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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months

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The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills the Moon

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name.

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.

"Is everything alright?"

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.

Nothing.

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.

"I look forward to working with all of you."

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.

"What?" Because you must have misheard him.

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

𖤓

It was something minuscule.

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him.

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.

It's worse than anything you could think of.

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?

This wasn't bullying.

This was abuse.

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired.

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

"Why?"

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.

"Get lost."

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.

"Anything, right?"

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.

"Get on your knees."

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.

"I-I-Gojo you-"

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.

"Gojo I-"

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."

You look down at the grass. Green, soft.

"Satoru."

His eyes flash in satisfaction.

"Open up, pretty girl."

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."

You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.

"My laptop...it's broken."

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.

The sunset is pretty today.

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.

"Thank-"

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.

"I love you."

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.

Fuck three weeks.

You needed to get out, now.

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.

The door shuts with a click.

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.

You take one back. He puts his hands up.

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."

His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.

You go to move.

Satoru's faster.

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-"

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.

"I'll make sure it takes this time too."

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.

"I love you."

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.

#yandere jjk #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #dark content #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru #reader insert #afab reader #bullying #harassment #forced relationship #tw: dubcon #tw:noncon

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lasnevadaslaborunion · 1 year

Text

It frightens and discourages me how pervasive "tribal" stereotypes and imagery are in the fantasy and adventure genres.

It's all over the place in classic literature. Crack open a Jules Verne novel and you're likely to find caricatures of brown people and cultures, even when the characters are sympathetic to the plight of the colonized peoples - incidentally, this is the biggest reason I can't recommend 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea to everyone, despite Captain Nemo being one of my favorite fictional characters of all time.

You can't escape it in modern cinema, either. You'll see white heroes venturing bravely into jungles and tombs to steal from natives who don't know how to use their resources "properly." You'll see them strung up in traps, riddled with sleeping darts, forced to flee and fight their way out. Hell, Pirates of the Caribbean, a remarkably inclusive franchise in many other ways, had an extended sequence of the white heroes escaping from a cannibal civilization in the second film.

And when fantasy RPGs want a humanoid enemy, the "bloodthirsty natives" are the first stock trope they jump to. World of Warcraft is one of the most egregious examples, with the trolls - blatant racist caricatures with faux-voodoo beliefs, cannibalistic diets, Jamaican accents, and a history of being killed in droves by (white) elves and humans - being raided and slaughtered in nearly every expansion.

It doesn't matter how vibrant and distinctive the real-world indigenous, Polynesian, Caribbean, and African cultures are. It doesn't matter how much potential these real civilizations offer for complex and sympathetic characterization. Anything that doesn't make sense to the white western mind is shoved under the same "savage" umbrella. They're different. They're strange. They're scary. They have to be escaped, subjugated, eliminated, ogled at from the safety of a museum.

Modern writers, directors, and developers don't even seem to realize how horrifying it is to present the indigenous inhabitants of a place as "obstacles" for non-native protagonists to overcome. "It's not racist," they say, "because these people aren't really people, you see." And if you dare to point out anything that hurts or offends you as a descendant of the bastardized culture, you're accused of being the real racist: "These aren't humans! They're monsters! Are you saying that these real societies are just like those disgusting monsters?"

No, they're not monsters. But you chose to design them as monsters, just as invaders have done for hundreds of years. Why would you do that? Why can you recognize any other caricature as evil and cruel, but not this?

This is how deep colonialism runs.

#tw racism #critical #this isn't even about any specific media anymore #it's a pattern #and it's a pattern that seems so obvious #but it's so omnipresent that even the most progressive folks can't seem to recognize how terrifying it is #these tropes were written in blood

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duuhrayliegh · 5 months

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consequences

a/n: I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM BUT HERE YOU GO

also i'm more than happy to continue this if yall want more, just LET ME KNOW

other works

“You want to what?"

"To open our relationship."

You stare at him in disbelief, clutching the soft blanket in your hands. There's a sharp ringing sounding through your eardrums and everything around you slows. He keeps talking, his voice breaking through the barrier of fog that encompasses your senses.

"I want us to remain honest with each other, but this is the only way to keep our relationship healthy."

He steps away from the kitchen counter, wearing the sports jacket you bought him for your sister's wedding.

"I want the both of us to disclose when we start dating someone else. That's the main boundary, we can hammer out all the ground rules later. Right now, I'm going on a date, so uh," he pauses as he checks his reflection in the mirror beside the door one last time, "don't wait up."

You try to focus on his words, but no matter your efforts you weren't able to process anything. His keys jangle in his grip and you faintly recognize the sound of the door slamming closed and his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor of your apartment.

"I still can't believe he said that to you."

The singular ice ball hits against the sides of your glass with each tilt of your wrist. You take a long drag of the dark liquor before laughing sardonically.

"It's been six months of him parading his dates around." Another sip, your work skirt digs into your thighs painfully. You distract yourself by reaching for a peanut from the nearly empty bowl. "And what's worse is that he still expects me to be the doting wife that he comes home to every night!"

The bartender refills your glass while you sneak another peanut. You card your fingers through your hair as you continue to rant. A dull throb radiates in between your brows so your eyes slide closed as you take deep breaths.

"Well, I can't imagine you're doing so bad yourself."

You hum questioningly at the man, focusing your gaze on the dark-haired bartender, his stubble dusting his sharp jaw as the muscles work beneath the skin. His eyes haven't left you since you sat down in front of him.

"I see you in here." You begin to pick at the skin around your nails and he nudges a bowl of peanuts in your direction. "Men come up to you all the time. You've been on dates too, right?"

You reach for a peanut and crack open the grainy shell, biting the inside of your cheek. Your bartender laughs incredulously and then presses his hands into his side of the counter to lean over toward you. The cloth he tosses over his shoulder must be damp because the fabric of his white button-up is darkened there.

"Focus on me, Peanut."

Your eyes snap to his, unable to keep the overflow of expression from brimming beneath the surface. Your heart cracks further as he visibly softens, crumpling against the counter to cover your hand with his. A tense silence stretches between the two of you, charging the air with unwelcome emotions.

Your bartender’s spare hand cups your jaw and swipes away the glistening tears fleeing down your cheeks. Sniffling loudly while straightening in your seat, you pull away from his touch—effectively stopping yourself from melting into him.

You’ve worked so hard to make this shitty dive bar your safe place, you’ll be damned if you ruin it with a fling.

“I don’t even know why I’m wasting tears on this whole thing.” You take three deep breaths—whiskey and apples invade your senses. The man in front of you tilts his head to the side while drying a few crystal glasses.

“You’re avoiding my question, Peanut.” He turns briefly and you try to figure a way out as the cups clink softly. “You have been dating too, right?”

Your teeth trap your bottom lip, peeling off the thin layers of skin. You purposely avoid his eyes, doing less than nothing to hide your answer.

“Jesus, Peanut. What’s stopping you?”

You huff, focusing your attention on the patrons around you. There’s noticeably less than there were when you first arrived. The bar guests go about their business, underlying emotions kept close to their chest and out of sight to everyone else. You wish you could be that way, instead of sewing your heart to your sleeve for anyone to rip pieces from.

“I--" You hesitate, twirling your glass, watching as the ice fights to keep up with the sudden movements you force on its surroundings.

"Some small part of me still loves him. No matter how much he hurts me with this whole open relationship bullshit. I'm still thinking that one day he'll wake up and remember that I've been his loving wife and partner for the past six years. This can't be my new reality. It just can't. He's meant to be my partner for life, not my partner who has really good friends. Not my partner with a girlfriend or some fuck buddy across town."

This is the can of worms that you'd hoped to keep locked away from the Commando's dive bar. What you've held close to your chest every night you slink past the blonde bouncer, Steve. The information you never let slip to the six-foot-five bartender with the metal arm. And now, you can't seem to stop the words from leaving your mouth.

"He's supposed to be my husband. Why isn't he my husband? Is it me? He said that we would talk about what the reason was, but I can't get him to sit down with me. I can't even get him to reply to a text, much less answer questions about our relationship."

You spit the last word before downing the rest of your drink in one go. Bucky stands patiently as you let loose every emotion that you've bottled up for the past six years. Further in the bar, someone shouts for the last call.

"Why don't I date? Because I love him. Because outside of him, I don't know who I am. I don't date because I've been with the same man for almost a decade and I wouldn't even know where to begin. I can't see past where I'm at right now. There is no future for me outside of the hell that I find myself in now. I can't date because I want to be there for when my husband remembers that I exist. I want to be there for him like he wasn't for me because I know the novelty of his flings will wear off soon enough. And maybe that makes me worse than him, but I don't know if I have the energy to care anymore."

There's now a heavy silence covering you and your whole body slumps because of it. Despite feeling the biggest breath of relief of getting those emotions out in the open, you now have to deal with what they mean. You were always taught that saying your emotions out loud would only lead to more issues, but here you fucking are. Sometimes these things are unavoidable.

"I call bullshit."

Your jaw drops as your bartender rocks away from the counter. You flounder as he starts performing closing duties. You stare at Bucky's back, slightly distracted by the muscles working underneath the tight material.

"Did you just bullshit my feelings?"

Bucky turns halfway, eyebrows raised, "Yep."

Your bartender plucks the glass in front of you and drops it in the sink on his way to the cash register. If you were in a whole state, you'd smack back with a witty comment, but you're tired.

"You can't bullshit my feelings."

He holds a stack of twenties in one hand and he pins you with the same expression as before.

"Uh, yeah I can."

He continues to count the register and tosses a goodbye to the other bartender. A long lull stretches between you. Now it's just the two of you in the bar, and that must have been what he was waiting on because it's only now that he really talks.

"Peanut, how long have you been coming here?"

You furrow your brow at the question, not sure where he's taking his line of questioning.

"I don't know, four months?"

“Four months, twenty days."

Bucky's retort is quick and final. A fact. Something he's committed to memory. You're taken aback by the heavy tone he layers between the syllables.

"And for those four months and twenty days, I've stood behind this counter and watched you wallow. I've watched you turn down proposition after proposition. I've had Steve throw out dozens of men for how they speak about you. I've sat back and tried to be the listening ear that you need because you're clearly going through a really difficult time. I've never been in the position that you're in and I'm not going to pretend that I understand the half of it."

He slams the drawer closed and rounds the countertop. His boots thud against the floor violently, stopping beside the barstool next to you. Your bartender leans down and swings your stool to face his before taking a seat.

"I've stood behind that bar and was able to listen to quite a bit. But what I can't have is you thinking that you're the issue."

His hand slips into yours, his thumb tracing the knuckles of your fingers. Tears begin to brim at your waterline again, but you refuse to let them fall.

"Peanut, you're the most loyal person I've met in recent years. You love fiercely and you hurt even harder. Hell, you've been with this guy for almost ten years and he's been fucking you over for the past six months and you're sitting in this bar defending him to a relative stranger!"

"But he--"

"You're husband took the decision away from you and then framed it in a way that made you out to be the bad guy. He put you in a nearly impossible situation because he knew you were too loyal to him to do anything about it."

"He didn--"

"Yes, he did."

Having it laid out like that by the one person you wanted to be kept away from all of it was eye-opening. Your shoulders crumple and a new wave of tears threatens to escape.

"Now, this isn't the best time, but I feel like in a situation like yours there's never going to be a 'right' time."

Bucky sits up straighter and sticks his metal hand out to you.

"Hi. I'm Bucky Barnes. I'm a retired Army Sergeant and I now work in the Howling Commandos bar. I've been your bartender for the past four months and twenty days. Over that time, I've grown to care for you, more than a bartender should. Because of that fact, I want to take you out on a date."

You suck in a breath sharply, immediately going to deny him, only for Bucky to cut you off.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now, Peanut. Just think about it and whenever you're ready, I hope I'm your first call."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, gnawing on the idea. You have grown fond of Bucky. He's become a sort of safety net for you these past few months. Going home has proven to be more and more of a chore so you spend hours on end in the Howling Commandos.

What if you and Bucky go on a date and you hate it? What if you date and you have a huge falling out? What if you--

"I can see the wheels turning, Peanut." He taps your temple with a cold metal finger. "What are you thinking?"

"What if we end up not working out?"

"What if we do?"

The question hangs. The implication is clear. You could spend hours going through the what-if scenarios, both positive and negative. You'll never truly know until you take a leap of faith.

"What would your boss think of you dating one of your new regulars though?"

You're grasping at straws, but you're really trying to convince yourself that taking that leap with Bucky would be the worst thing in the world.

"Peanut, I'll sell the damn bar before someone other than you tells me that I can't date you."

Your eyes meet his and all you can see is the adoration and sincerity in them. His thumb is still working over your knuckles, but it's also expanded to tracing aimless circles into the back of your hand. The cool metal is the only way you've grounded yourself to reality.

A slow smile spreads across your features, the first of its kind tonight and you both know what it means.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky x reader #bartender!bucky barnes x reader #seb stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #seb stan character #seb stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bartender!bucky x you #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader

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yandere-daydreams · 5 months

Text

Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal. There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok imagines #record of ragnarok x reader #hades x reader #yandere hades #yaanderecore #yancore

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ohshitsherry · 1 month

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You know the very first thing ive noticed about dunmesh is just the genius in the simpliticity of the panelling/page layout and i dont think people talk enough about it. I want to rant about a few pages cause its rotating in my brain

The very first thing that appears is "marcille" emerging from the dark. But her image itself is bright and softly drawn - A familiar image within the confusing darkness of the dungeon. But this panel is much taller than any other in the page, putting marcille in a much higher ground compared to laios and giving a sense of superiority. Everything in that panel unleashes an uncanny valley effect, even that weird sense of comfort. Something is wrong.

The next laios focused panel is awfully small and nearly claustrophobic. The trap is closing in. But as her hands reach for him, he doesn't see it. He isn't aware.

The next 2 panels, being so wide and so much more rendered than the ones before, feel awfully slow - even though theyre very close to one another. And even though this moment lasted in a matter of seconds. We are feeling it through laios psyche. This is the moment of realization.

And in this build up, marcille isnt bright anymore. As closer as she gets to him, the more engulfed in shadow she becomes. And in the very last panel, the shading connects them in a way that makes them seem like a single piece.

do you get it.... Becoming one.... Consumption.

What came from the darkness wasnt a relief from it. It was a part of the darkness itself.

TALKING ABOUT A MORE LIGHTHEARTED ONE NOW

What makes it so fun is that the panelling seems almost as alive as the characters.

In the small sequence where falin recognizes senshi, the main action is abrupt. But the way the other elements in the panels react to It is rather subtle, but makes the main action feel far more lively. It almost reminds me of a parallax effect in a way.

And the way itzutsumi hiding behind laios makes him seem cat-like himself. Besides being clever shape linguage, its fucking adorable

But my favorite part of this page is the last row. The panels dont seem to work merely as a limit/guide for the drawings and page flow, but an actual part of the scenario. When falin gets up from bed, her feet are in front of the panel borders. And as she keeps walking further, the further she is from the panel itself. Its reeeally simples but its such an insanely cool 3D effect. The fact that "escaping" effect happens right along with the "this is..... outside the dungeon?" Dialogue is so peak as well.....

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi rant #i know this is all very obvious but its really cool to stop by and look at #rant #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi meta

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norrizzandpia · 5 months

Note

i am Politely Asking for the lando post-race imagine you mentioned 👀👀👀

Your guys’ wish is my command 🤭

All He Needed Was Her (LN4)

Summary: Following the Vegas ‘23 crash, Y/n and Adam find Lando in his hospital bed, yearning for the comfort of his girlfriend’s touch.

Warnings: a panic attack, inferences of death, Lando crashing

Note: that crash was so hard to watch and i still have not recovered

Silence encompassed the space around her, her mind sick with the images of Lando’s crash. What she thought could potentially be his first race win had turned into her worst nightmare as Lando’s car laid smashed against the protecting fences. Her mouth stayed agape as she listened to her boyfriend’s broken “I’m ok,” followed by concerning whimpers and groans. Her eyes frantically searched the room, the faces of his loved ones burned into her brain with their watery eyes and panicked looks. She couldn’t bear the tension within the space, the expressions of the people around her like he had died. The room closed in on her quickly, allowing for no space to breathe or get out of the anxiety filling her lungs. She felt trapped, a panic attack coming on inevitably when she saw the way his hand shook, his arms trying to push himself out of the car yet failing continuously.

She shoved the headset off her ears, shutting out the taunting sounds, before throwing herself into the crowd behind her and pushing them to the side as she tried desperately to claw herself out. She couldn’t turn her head back to see the screens, not even when applauding emitted and a good sign emerged. Y/n reached the door, her hand grasping the handle and hesitating. A large hand grasping her shoulder called her back, willing her to open her eyes and see the survival of her love. When she turned around, her eyes looking up, she was met with the soft look of Adam, Lando’s father.

No matter how comforting he was trying to be, his bloodshot eyes reminded her of the risks her boyfriend took, the chances of him not getting out of that car after a race.

It was too much.

Her heart beat out of her chest and she struggled to find air, her impending anxiety surely, gradually, painfully encroaching her being.

Adam, being familiar with the anxiety attacks his son got, saw the signs, opening the door behind her quickly and shoving her into the empty hallway. His hands landed on her biceps, gripping them as he shook her gently.

“Y/n?” His voice was distant and Y/n wanted to run toward it, however nothing was ever that easy.

He tried again, “Y/n, breathe with me.”

Her mind understood, her lungs expanding shortly as he began to inhale. Tears seeped through the crack of her lips, adding to the drowning she felt she was enduring.

She blubbered and sobbed as she tried to follow his pattern, proving difficult when suffocation seemed probable.

Nevertheless, Adam’s determination triumphed, her mind slowing down as her body caught up.

He looked at her with pity as she came down, his eyes swimming in a certain sympathy she didn’t recognize. This was deeper, he was seeing the pain she was bearing, relating to it because of the exact connection they both nurtured with the boy.

His hands left her arms, stilling at his sides as he began to coax her toward his driver’s room, “How about you rest for a while? That seemed really bad.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, I need to be awake for Lando. What if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Adam closed his eyes as he nudged her into the small room, “Then, I will come wake you. But, for now, he’s going to go to the circuit’s medical center and there’s nothing we can do. It’s best if you allow yourself to relax after that.”

She knew he was right, more so because he sounded exactly like his son. When she had these horrid experiences, Lando was right beside her immediately, gently leading her to any surface where she could lie down. He knew exactly how to make it go away, she never expected to have to do it without him or because of him. He was consistently advocating for her rest after an attack, something that always helped her recover more quickly.

That memory, those habitual instances, persuaded her to give in to Adam’s pleas. He smiled at her as she brought a blanket over her body, Lando’s scent encompassing her body.

“I promise I’ll be back when I have updates.”

She nodded, trusting him like she had for the past few years, “Okay, thank you.”

He closed the door with a nod, the dark haunting her enough to close her eyes and lean into the quiet, peaceful embrace of sleep.

—

She was awoken by shaking, more specifically Adam’s hands shaking her upper body.

“Y/n, wake up.” He whispered, his words guiding her back to the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Yeah?”

He seemed stoic, rigid and stressed, something that made Y/n truly wake up, “Lando’s at the hospital. They said we can meet him there.”

She shot up from her laid down position, “What?! The hospital?! Is he okay?!”

His father sighed beside her, getting up and showing how antsy he was to move when he lingered by the door, “I don’t know.”

—

The pair burst through the doors of the hospital, launching themselves at the nurses who sat behind the desk. Their words mixed together as they sputtered out his name, occupation, and situation. This proved to be inefficient because the women looked back at them blankly.

Y/n tried again, “We are here to see Lando Norris. He is a Formula 1 driver and he was involved in an accident.”

It dawns on the employee and her head tilts slightly, “I can’t give out information on him because of his status and occupation. I am sorry. Unless you can prove you are family to him then I can’t give you anything.”

Adam’s hand flew to his pocket, whipping out his wallet and showing her his identification, proving his blood relation to Lando. Y/n watched with a heavy heart as she realized she had nothing to show, she wasn’t family. She was crushed as she realized he would be able to go on to see their boy without her.

When the woman gave him the room number, she gave it to him on paper so as to deter anyone overhearing, he bolted. He was right at the door that led to another hallway when he stopped and turned around, motions for Y/n to follow him.

“I need to see your proof of family relations.” The nurse beside her said expectantly whilst Adam moved back over to the desk.

She shook her head, “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t have proof of blood relations.”

The nurse shrugged, “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t have you go through.”

Y/n opened her mouth to fight back, but Adam interrupted her, “No, she has to. I’ve just shown you I’m his father, take my word for it. Please. My son needs her right now.”

The nurse seemed to be at a crossroads as her gaze flickered between Adam and Y/n. Finally, she nodded curtly and the two were running throughout the building. Down different hallways within the floor, they quickly reached his room. Without thinking, Adam charged in, a strong wave of emotion hitting him when he saw his son wrapped up in a hospital bed.

“Lando,” He sighed, arms falling around Lando’s body as he squeezed him softly, careful with him.

“Hi, dad. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He mumbled into his shoulder, hand laying loosely over the back of his father.

Y/n watched from the corner, tears pricking the sides of her eyes at the sight of him. She watched as they pulled back, Lando’s eyes meeting hers and softening with relief before Adam was coughing and excusing himself from the room.

When they were left alone, she walked slowly to him. She stood in front of him for a moment, both individuals taking in the other after the traumatic time apart. When he had had enough of not holding her in his arms, Lando reached out and pulled her closer to his body, arms linking around her hips as he stuffed his face into her chest. She breathed out as her hands tangled in his hair, both of them memorizing the way the other calmed them in such a state.

He clung to her, breathing steady as she whispered sweet, quiet words of love and encouragement to him.

“Sit with me?” He asked with a low volume, pulling back slightly and looking up at her.

She could never say no to his deep green eyes, “Always.”

He shifted to the side as she slid in next to him. She watched the way his eyes lingered over her lap. Chuckling, Y/n sat further against the wall, “Lay your head on my lap, baby.”

He smiled at her brightly, a childlike grin as he shuffled down and set his curly hair over her pants.

A silence passed before she was whispering again, “I love you so much. It was so scary seeing you crash today and I just could not live a life without you. I love you, Lan. You’ve ruined my life for the better. There’s no way I could ever go a day without you.”

He nodded below her, “I can’t either. I kept asking for you when I was at the circuit after the crash, but they kept telling me I couldn’t have any visitors with the impact I had just endured. I was so angry, all I wanted was you. I’ve been like a sitting duck as I stared at the wall and waited for you to arrive. But, now that you’re here, I already feel like I’m getting better. That’s your impact on me. I love you too, love. Being without you for that was worse than the crash itself.”

She looked down at him, leaning over to kiss his temple. When he felt the pressure, he turned his head. She had been pulling back, but got the hint when he looked up at her expectantly. He giggled as she leaned back down, meeting his lips with her own in an intimate, soft kiss.

When they pulled back, she watched his eyes slowly close when she began massaging his scalp and tugging gently at his brown hair. He moaned quietly at the feeling, stroking his hand over her leg as she comforted him with just her presence.

He buried his face further into her lap, breathing her in. By the change of angle, she lost sight of his face, only relying on the monitor to tell her he had fallen asleep when it evened out, reaching a rhythm.

Only then did Adam return, smiling lightly at his sleeping son laying in the lap of his girlfriend. Truly the sweetest sight, he thought, something he would’ve taken a picture of had Y/n been asleep as well.

He sat in the chair beside them, cocking his head at her.

“Thank you.”

The two words caused Y/n’s eyebrows to draw together, confusion etched into her face, “For what?”

Adam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “For being there for him. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always put everyone else first. He’s always made it the biggest priority to make others feel good when he wasn’t at all. Cisca and I always wished for someone to come along and take care of him right back. Turns out our wishing wasn’t in vain. Here you are and he’s finally understanding what it’s like to be loved that way.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, eyes averting back to her sleeping boyfriend strewn across her lap, before choking out, “Thank you, Adam. That means the world from you.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair before kicking his legs up toward the end of the bed. He watched her lean her head back, scumming to sleep just like Lando, her hands still buried in his hair.

That was when he took the picture, sending it to the Norris Family group chat, it including Y/n, and assuring the members of Lando’s wellness.

Adam (2:35 AM)

Image Attachment

Adam (2:35 AM)

Lando’s okay! Don’t worry! All he needed was some medication to calm his nerves and Y/n 🧡

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris edit #las vegas gp 2023

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minarisplaything · 3 months

Text

High Rise ft. IVE Wonyoung

Pairing: IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.4k Tags: Daddy kink, Exhibitionism, Choking A/N: i said i would didn't i? probably the fastest i've made a fic recently which also means please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes you find. might not be my best work but it sure was fun to write o7 Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction/parody

Dating a k-pop idol wasn’t easy. Especially when you were a so-called commoner. There were the obvious reasons, like you had to keep your relationship a secret until they reached their thirties, if you made it that long.And the not-so-obvious reasons; like watching your girlfriend parade around in sexy stage outfits and having to contain your desire to fuck her in them.

Or maybe that was just you.

When your girlfriend was Jang Wonyoung, a hyper-popular It girl – you cringed at even thinking those words aloud – the restrictions were even worse. Like that one time you had wanted to bring her flowers at her group's concert in Seoul and had to be snuck backstage with a bag over your head. Or the time someone had caught the two of you flirting candidly and Wonyoung blurted out that you were her cousin to save face. Embarrassing but somehow also cute when it came from her.

All this was to say it wasn’t easy.

But it certainly wasn’t without its benefits.

“Fuck, that one looks so good, princess,” you praised.

You snapped another photo as Wonyoung posed, biting her bottom lips and giving the camera a smoldering look. She hooked her fingers into her hip-hugging jeans, tugging them slightly as you quickly snapped another series of photos.

Honestly, you were somewhat shocked when Wonyoung told you her idea. It had felt provocative, mature even, and thus far each photo had proved that assumption right. But you rarely, if ever said no to her, even if her motivations were somewhat questionable. In fact, you wondered if this was all your fault.

“You left a like on Yuna-nim’s photo,” Wonyoung had said at the time. Her tone carried an accusatory hint.

“Did I?” you had stammered, trying to play naive. “I was just scrolling my feed and must’ve double tapped.”

“So you follow them?”

“Them?”

“Other girl groups,” Wonyoung clarified.

One thing you had learned about the IVE princess was that while she was sweet as a button on most days, she carried a jealous streak that verged on volatile. Sharing was not in her programming, least of all when it came to you.

You had recognized the trap forming but it had been too late. “Well, I mean, just to keep up. You know you do challenges sometimes and appear on their feeds.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked to the side and slight pout was all the answer you needed.

That week you had gone without any physical contact from your girlfriend. Though she made sure to send you the filthiest selfies possible throughout. Which, oddly, worked. Because no matter how much you touched yourself to the photos she sent, it didn’t compare to the real thing.

It had seemed like the incident was over and in the past but as you snapped a few more photos of Wonyoung by the windowsill, you briefly wondered if this stemmed from it as well.

“Are you sure you’re going to post these on Instagram?” you asked, after a particularly racy photo.

“Mhm,” Wonyoung nodded. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Remember the bathroom?”

“Oh, I remember.”

You also remembered the ones that hadn’t made it to social media and were sent directly to you. But this still felt even more daring than this.

“How many likes do you think this will get?” she asked, coolly, giving the camera a sultry look. An innocent question. At least on the surface. But you remembered her comment one night as you two relaxed together.

“Besides, it’s to promote the sponsor, that’s all. This will get the most engagements,” she added. Her gaze dropped and a small smirk formed on her lips, “In fact, I’d say it’s already working.”

You followed her gaze, looking down to see a rather obvious tent had formed in your sweatpants. You laughed, a flush coloring your cheeks. “Well, shit. Can you blame me?”

“I guess I can’t,” Wonyoung said coolly.

The way she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, spoke to more mischief however.

“Wony,” you wet your dry lips, “Are we still doing the shoot?”

“Mhm “ she nodded cutely, “Of course.”

She did another pose, pushing the waist of the jeans down to expose the lace underwear she had on underneath.

“You know, I love it up here. It’s perfect,” Wonyoung said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah…” you muttered, more focused on the sight of her exposed abs and smooth skin than her question.

By here she was referring to the penthouse you were using for the photoshoot. Funny enough, she could easily afford a place like this on her own. Though that would only spur on more talk about inequality among the rookie group.

“Being so high up…” she turned her head to look out the window. Your breath caught as you watched delicate fingers slip inside of her jeans. “We can see everything but no one can see us. Even if we were naked against this window they’d never know…”

Now you weren’t the smartest bulb in the room. In fact, sometimes you wondered if it was your self-proclaimed himbo status that Wonyoung liked most about you. But even you could put two and two together. And Wonyoung’s words combined with the side-eyed glance she was giving you were all screaming one thing.

“I could show my naked body to all of Seoul and no one. would. know.”

Her tongue pronounced every syllable while she locked eyes with you. As sweet and kind as Wonyoung could be she had an undeniable minx side to her. You were also fairly certain your girlfriend got off on the power high of being such a desired person but you had never actually confirmed that.

If you were starting to get hard when she pointed it out earlier, you were practically aching now. You tossed your phone onto the couch and made your way over to where Wonyoung was by the window. She let out a delighted squeal as you pushed her up against the glass, kissing her passionately.

Your hands moved against her stomach, feeling her toned abs that were shown off by the outfit she was wearing. Honestly, you should send a bouquet to whatever designer sent this to her to promote. You nipped at Wonyoung's bottom lip, your hands sliding into her unbuttoned pants to squeeze her ass.

"It took you long enough," Wonyoung gasped, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "I thought was going to have to beg you to fuck me."

Your cock twitched, straining painfully against your jeans, "You still could you know."

She must have been in a good mood because the idol looked at you with large eyes, biting on her bottom lip. "Please fuck me against the window, daddy."

Oh.

You see, it had taken some time but you learned that your girlfriend had two modes. The arrogant queen who knew all of Seoul was her playground and made you worship at her feet. Then there was the submissive princess who begged to be pleased until she was satisfied. Often her mood was some mixture of the two but neither one left you unsatisfied.

"If that's what the Princess wants," you growled.

A delighted smile crossed the idol's features followed by another joyful squeal when you spun her around to face the window. Her hands rose, catching herself as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. You could see the aroused flush creeping up her neck and coloring her round cheeks.

"Didn't you say something about showing everyone your tits?" you whispered in her ear.

Not waiting for a response, you pulled her top down, exposing her tits to the cool glass of the window earning a gasp from Wonyoung in response. You pressed further against her, the bulge in your pants pushing against her ass.

"This whole shoot was just to rile me up, wasn't it?" you said, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. Your hands moved quickly to yank the jean pants she was wearing, exposing the white lace panties that she had teased you with a peek of earlier.

"Maybe," Wonyoung mewled, arching her back perfectly.

Your hands hooked into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to reveal her bare ass to your hungry gaze, "Bullshit. You knew what you were doing."

"Maybe I just wanted to remind you of what's right in front of you," she said.

There it was. That switch up she was capable of. It also confirmed your theory that your girlfriend hadn't exactly forgiven and forgotten about the Instagram incident. Well, there was no time better than now to put the matter to bed. You gripped your cock, slipping it between her legs to get it slick from her dripping sex.

"Oh, I'm well aware of what's in front of me," you started. Slowly you began to slip your thick cock inside of her, inch by inch with each syllable. "The most beautiful." More. "Talented." More. "Gorgeous." More. "Perfect." More. "Princess."

"Fuck!" Wonyoung moaned, her forehead bracing against the window.

"Is the princess feeling full?"

"So, so full…" she cooed.

"And I didn't even get to mention how good a girlfriend you are," you teased.

You could feel her pussy quivering around your length, stretching to accommodate the familiar intrusion of your cock. Wonyoung's hands were splayed against the windows of the high-rise, her ass pushed out and into you. She was on full display and only you were lucky enough to see it.

You could take it slow with steady, languid strokes, gently fucking your girlfriend against the window. But something told you that wasn't what she nor you wanted at that moment. Your fingers flexed around her waist, pulling out your cock until just the tip remained inside of her before thrusting your entire length back inside of her. Wonyoung's body jolted with pleasure as she braced her nude body against the window.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Harder. "To know how much you turn me on." Faster. "To see how fucking hard you get me." Deeper. "No one else makes me like this." Repeat.

A mixture of mewls and moans fell from the idol's mouth at your relentless rhythm. Her head fell forward, her cheek pressed up against the glass. Perspiration was starting to form across her flawless skin and you had to resist the urge to lean forward and lick it up. You wanted to prove a point, to fuck Wonyoung to the point of exhaustion for the whole city to see. After that maybe you'd enjoy the little perversions.

"You probably say that to every - fuck - every girl," Wonyoung panted, glancing at you from over her shoulder. "You're probably just waiting to move onto the next idol you're drooling over."

She didn't say it with enough conviction for you to believe she truly felt that way. For starters, while Wonyoung may get jealous, she was not insecure. At least, not enough to ever think another idol was above her. It was more often a toxic possessive kind of jealousy. But nonetheless, in the heat of the moment you'd take the bait.

"Is that what you think?" he said, your breathing growing heavy with your harsh thrust. Conversation wasn't exactly easy at this pace. "Did you miss what I said earlier, huh?"

One hand moved from her waist to slip around Wonyoung's throat. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat as you squeezed. For a passing second there was no sound save for the repeated slaps of skin against skin as your hips were flush against Wonyoung's ass each time you entered her.

"I only want you," you finally gasp. "Always you."

Rather than another vulgar display to go along with your words, you merely lean over her, capturing her lips in a sideways kiss. It's messy and imperfect but it's also loving and passionate. Your tongues dance together all while your bodies remain intertwined. You can feel Wonyoung pussy quivering around your cock intensely as she moans into your mouth. When you pull back, you look at your girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you just cum from that?" you asked.

"S-shut up," Wonyoung retorted. You noticed a bright red hue of embarrassment coloring her cheeks before she hid her face, "Don't stop until you finish inside of me,"

It was always adorable when she continued trying to be dominant after her own orgasm. However, her words had an undeniable effect on you. "If that's what the princess wants."

You returned to the task at hand, focusing your efforts solely on chasing your first release and Wonyoung's second orgasm.

"Daddy," Wonyoung mewled, finding her voice. "I want you to cum, daddy. I want you to cum deep inside my tight pussy.""

You had a sinking suspicion that her words were payback for causing her embarrassing moments earlier. Her attempt at provoking you to blow your load sooner than you had intended to.

Regardless it worked to immediate effect. Your hips jerked, slamming against hers from behind. Your sweat-drenched body pressed flush against Wonyoung, pushing her up against the high-rise window. Your cock twitched, ropes of your sticky seed shooting inside of her womb as her walls convulsed around your length.

Of course the two things that pushed her over the edge would be you saying how you loved her and her revelling the power she had to make you cum on the spot. Truly a representative of her duality.

After a moment had passed and you began to regain your bearings you pressed a kiss to Wonyoung's shoulder.

"That was incredible, Wony," you muttered.

"I know," she said, her form practically radiating. "You weren't bad either."

You let out a chuckle, placing another lazy kiss to her skin, "Maybe we should've included that in the photoshoot."

Wonyoung smiled but didn't immediately respond. After a moment of delay she turned in your arms to look at you.

"Did you mean all those things you said?" she asked.

Her wide eyes looked at you and you reached up to brush aside a strand of sweat soaked hair. There was no hesitation in your response when you answered her.

"Absolutely. And don't you think otherwise for a second."

A smile beamed across the idol's face and she leaned forward, burying her face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around her and quietly you wondered if you weren't the luckiest man in the world.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

#wonyoung smut #ive smut #girl group smut #ive imagines #wonyoung imagines #ive x reader #male reader #wonyoung x male reader

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pathologicalreid · 1 month

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heyyyy how ruu

english is not my first language so i hope you can understand this u.u

this idea has been consuming my brain for days, sooo basically i was thinking about bau fem reader and reid doing undercover work (idk) and when they see the unsub, reader's first thought is to kiss reid so the unsub can't recognize them (and he wouldnt waste time in 2 ppl kissing???), then when reader sees the unsub going towards the exit even though she doesnt want to she breaks the kiss and everything is awkward but in a cute way??? yea idk if this makes sense feel free to change anything or to not do it at all :]

in plain sight | S.R.

your quick thinking (in an attempt to protect him) leads to a thankful spencer

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: reader is explicitly referred to as a woman. general cm violence. making out (for the plot). haphazardly proofread. word count: 1.19k a/n: no worries anon, i understood this perfectly! thank you so much for requesting!

Your firearm was digging into your hip as you leaned up against the wall of the bar. You were on high alert as you looked around the building, scanning the faces of people who walked by.

“L/N, Reid, anything?” Hotch called into the radios. The team was across the street in a surveillance van.

Quickly, your eyes met Spencer’s, “No sign of the suspect.” Silently, you hoped that Hotch would pull you from the bar and let you go back to the hotel for the night, but you knew that wasn’t the way your unit chief played the game.

You were more or less trapped inside a college bar, your shoes were sticking to the old wooden floor, and because you and Spencer were the youngest members of the team, you were voluntold to go undercover.

Reid had never looked more out of place, but he was twelve when he started college, so you supposed he had never really been in a dive bar like this one before. “Hey,” you said softly, “Are you alright?” You knew he had a thing about germs, and if you were bothered by the sticky floors, you couldn’t imagine how he was feeling.

“I’m sure this comes as a surprise, but this,” he gestured to the partying college kids around you, “isn’t really my scene.”

A small laugh bubbled up from your throat, “Oh, no. I never would’ve guessed,” you played along with his sarcasm. “I’m afraid my shoes are going to come off when I try to walk,” you admitted.

He smiled slightly, “I’m trying not to think about it.”

Tentatively, you moved a little closer to him so you wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “I thought the UnSub hunted around ten?” You questioned. All of the bodies were usually found at midnight with lividity just barely beginning to show, meaning the victims were picked at ten, killed by eleven, and found at midnight.

They were calling him the Countdown Killer because he kept on such a tight schedule. “He should be,” Spencer answered, glancing down at the watch on his wrist.

You looked around the bar, the both of you had your backs to a wall, so you weren’t exposed on that side.

“Remember, if you spot him, do not engage,” Hotch ordered through your radios. You and Reid were simply there to find him, the rest of the team would handle the chase. “He’s likely been watching the news, so he may recognize your faces – don’t let him.”

While you weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to hide your face from the suspect without seeming suspicious, you confirmed the plan with Hotch anyway.

A gleam of blonde caught your eye, narrowing your eyes, you focused on the figure. “Spencer,” you swatted at his hand, “two o’clock.”

Discreetly, Spencer’s gaze flickered over in the direction you had suggested. “Turn around,” Spencer said, “Don’t let him see your face.”

You turned around so that you were facing Spencer, looking away from the suspect. “What about your face?” You asked, surely the both of you staring at the brick wall would seem suspicious.

“He’s killing women. I don’t want him to notice you,” he responded, momentarily looking past you and at the suspect.

Surprised, you furrowed your brows at Reid’s statement, by having you face him, he was trying to protect you. You turned your face into your shoulder, “Suspect is in the bar,” you whispered into your mic.

There was recognition from the rest of the team before it went quiet again. “He’s approaching us,” Spencer said, faint alarm springing onto his features. He wasn’t talking into the radio; he was letting you know.

Spencer might’ve been outside of the victimology, but you couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him if the suspect recognized him.

Instinctively, you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. You were kissing Spencer.

At first, he was surprised, but his hands quickly found a home on your waist as he kissed you back. Your lips worked gently on his as he eased his mouth open, deepening the kiss. Abruptly, Spencer dragged you closer to him by the waist. The sudden movement caused your eyes to flutter open.

In your periphery, you could see the dangerous blonde walking away. He must’ve walked right past you, and Spencer had pulled you away from him. You let your eyes fall shut again.

You reached up to sling your arms over his shoulders as he experimentally slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your heart raced as you were fully making out with Spencer in the college bar.

Reluctantly, you separated yourself from Spencer, “Is he gone?” You whispered, peering up at him through your eyelashes.

Spencer nodded, swallowing thickly. His cheeks were tinted pink, and you were sure you were flushed as well.

You pressed your mic button, not taking your eyes off Spencer’s, “Suspect’s exiting out the rear door,” you notified the team. Suddenly, your job was done, and you became conscious of Spencer’s hands where they still remained on your waist.

Hotch asked you to report to the van, and you took Spencer’s hand and led him out of the bar. The cool night air calmed your rushing blood. “Thank you for that,” he said from behind you as you halted to look for passing cars.

You spun on your heel to look at him, “Did you just thank me for kissing you?”

“I thanked you for distracting the suspect, so he didn’t recognize me,” Spencer corrected, squeezing your hand.

Instinctively, you dropped his hand, “Right, me and my quick thinking.” There was not a single clear thought in your head. You started crossing the street as Spencer called your name, obviously confused.

You yanked your earbud out while the rest of the team was rambling on about the takedown over the comms. “What just happened?” Spencer asked.

“We made out in a bar, and you thanked me for it,” you answered stiffly, leaning your back against the white van. “So, you’re welcome,” you said. Really, you didn’t know what you wanted from him, and you knew that Reid’s experience with women was limited at best.

Surprisingly, Spencer rested a hand on either side of your head and leaned intoxicatingly close to you, “Did you want me to say something else to you?”

You looked up at him, you weren’t sure you had ever noticed the green flecks in his eyes, “I had a few ideas, yes.”

“Here was my other option,” he told you, dropping his head so that your lips met once again. You gasped into his mouth in surprise. Hesitantly, you placed one hand on the side of his neck and the other in his hair. He used both of his hands to cup your face, kissing you with less urgency than you had in the bar as if you had all of the time in the world.

The both of you jumped when the passenger side door to the van swung open and Emily poked her head out, “You know we can see you in the side mirrors, right?”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #margot's requests #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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ozzgin · 4 months

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Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (I)

This is probably my longest running dysfunctional daydream scenario, so I thought I'd share it here.

As stereotypical as it gets, you've fallen into an old well and found yourself in feudal Japan. Almost immediately, you're attacked by a yokai that calls you by a name you don't recognize. He insists you possess the soul of an ancient priest that would capture demons under a binding contract. Something isn't right, however, so your life is spared until further clues come to light. With two men unwillingly bound to you, you begin to uncover this mess as more 'collection pieces' show up. They might prefer you to their previous owner.

TW: violence, monsters

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guidebook]

You vigorously cough out whatever grass you seemed to have bit into when you hit the ground. Was all this vegetation here just one moment ago? As you get up and dust your knees you're brought back into focus by the loud buzzing of insects. You look above and involuntarily squint your eyes. You didn't expect to see a full, bright sky.

"What the hell?" is all you can mutter.

You and your university friends had planned a quick trip to the neighboring Tokyo, just to visit some trending local cafes and shop around. You somehow wandered into the suburbs and found a very obvious path to a large shrine that was visible from the bottom of the stairs. Now, what's more stereotypical than finding a shrine, approaching it with shy steps, dangling the old rope of the bell and humbly clapping your hands together for a quick prayer that gives you a fake sense of meaningfulness? Then again, you love a good cliché. So you did just that, and then whipped out your phone to snap some artsy photos of the place. In your search for the perfect angle, you spotted a wooden structure among some pillars and zoomed in to realize it's an old well.

Here's where you awkwardly tiptoed away from your friends. You couldn't possibly confess to them that you're one of those anime nerds, and that you immediately thought of a certain classic title, and that this could make a very good impromptu cosplay shoot. You could smell the nostalgia as you carefully swayed your way behind the pillars and under the shade of the tiled roof. You bent over carefully (apparently not carefully enough) to asses how deep the well was. Just as you were about to exclaim its shallowness, you felt the gravity pull you inwards. Within seconds your head made contact with the moist soil and you briefly blacked out as the rest of your body arrived in proper position.

Unpleasant, but you've had migraines worse than this. Though now you're wondering whether you might've damaged some important brain parts, given the sudden change of scenery. Or has your dysfunctional daydreaming finally caught up to you?

You laugh silently and test the walls around you, feeling for some contact point that you can use to pull yourself back out. You finally crawl out, but freeze with your elbows around the frame of the well, looking ahead.

There's no building around, just tall grass and what seems to be the beginning of a forest. You remember to blink, and each time you close your eyes you hope to see the shrine once again, to no avail.

"I thought I'm past the risk age for schizophrenia", you mumble in a humorous attempt. The situation is so absurd that you need to share it with an imaginary audience.

You muster up the courage to step out and onto the ground, with extra caution as if it could vanish at any moment. After brief consideration, you slap a bunch of weeds in front of you to test their consistency. The hard stems hurt your wrist and you nod. This is a little too intense to be just a hallucination.

Alright, so you got trapped in some sort of feudal anime remake. What now? You glance around, almost hoping to see some white haired man sleeping against a tree with an arrow stuck into the chest. You check your phone. No signal, but thankfully it still works. You have a battery and its charger, but the latter is probably useless. Unless this remake comes with electricity. You chuckle at the thought. Who knows, maybe it's one of those isekai otome games instead and some timeline inconsistency or loophole will provide you with an outlet.

After trying the well one last time without success, you decide to at least find another human being. Then you can get some grasp of your whereabouts and situation. You notice a patch of grass that's been bent to the ground, probably from frequent stomping. That's a start. You follow the hints of bipedal movement and hope for the best.

The improvised path slithers downhill and around the mass of trees, and you question whether the fields ahead might have traces of houses on them. You pick up your pace in anticipation.

A sharp swish of an unknown object causes you to flinch and halt, and before you can process it, a thin blade lays inches from your nose. You follow its length and find the source: a tall, horned (???) man with silver hair.

Ironically enough, he seems to be more shocked than you. His facial expression flips from focused anger to unbelievable confusion within seconds. His eyebrows are raised and his lips part.

"Ah!" you yell as the gears begin to turn. "Christ, you almost made me question my sanity!

Now let me tell you, this is some great cosplay. I was about to beg for my life. Hah! How the hell did you pull the whole transition? Is the well a tunnel? I hope I didn't accidentally break into some event."

The man returns his sword into its sheath, still in deep disbelief.

"You're not him, are you? But then again..."

"Huh? Him? I'm sorry, were you expecting someone? If you show me the way out I'll disappear in a moment." you turn around, prepared to be led to the exit. "Who're you cosplaying, anyways? I'm a big fan of historical dramas, but I don't recognize the character design."

"I don't understand what you're saying." the man tilts his head in utter surprise.

"Alright, I get the point" you force a laugh, slightly irritated by the persistence. "You're deep in your acting, I get that. Focus and all the jazz. But my friends are around the corner and I don't have signal, can you please skip the theatre and show me the exit?"

"The exit to...where? You're outside."

You sigh, loudly, and click your tongue. "Enough of this, please. Where's the shrine?"

"Ah, I get it. You're trying to confuse me." he pulls his sword back out. "I've had enough of your tricks. You're in an early stage, aren't you? Not strong enough to fight back. I can sense it."

Oh God, it's one of those maniacs, you think to yourself. You raise your arms as a peace offering and hope you won't be featured in the 5pm news with multiple stab wounds.

"Listen man, I really don't know what you're talking about. I'll leave quietly and won't bother you again, I promise."

You gulp and await a response, but the man's mouth opens and the words are replaced by a foreign, disembodied shriek. There's a rapidly approaching heavy shuffle that sounds like the trample of many limbs. You feel your leg being hooked into something and the ground turns around at a dizzying speed.

Something just grabbed you.

Given the movements of the lips, you're assuming that the mysterious cosplaying maniac is yelling something, but your ears are ringing and throbbing as the adrenalin begins to pump. You're being thrown around by something and you can feel the skin holding your leg together creaking and tearing with every jolt.

You manage to land your eyes on the creature. The teeth are unnaturally sharp and it seems to have many arms and legs arranged in a scattered order along the scaly body. It trashes around in such a fluid, dynamic way, that you doubt it could be the result of any machine. It's a living thing and currently attacking you for whatever reason.

Once the bizarre reality settles in, panic floods your body and you scream for help. If not the maniac, then some godly intervention. You did offer a small donation at the shrine, it has to count for something.

The spectacle doesn't last long, since the silver haired man doesn't hesitate to behead the creature. You can see that he wasn't making empty threats with his sword skills. You'd prefer, however, if you weren't the next one to go under his guillotine. Your body rolls over the dirt, limp from the shock.

You tilt yourself upwards pathetically and let out a groan once you attempt to use your leg to stand. You turn around and notice the aftermath of your little air ballet. There's a deep wound and thick, red blood is oozing out, scrambling to form a protective crust.

"You... really can't fight at all, can you? You weren't lying."

The man is now standing in front of you, the same amount of disbelief he had at the beginning.

"How the hell would I have fought that...that..." you choke and can feel tears forming in your eyes. "I don't understand what's happening. I just want to go back home. I don't know what's happening." you start sobbing and angrily rub your eyes, hoping to trigger some sort of way to wake up. But your eyelids burn and you feel awake. This was never a dream.

Your sudden meltdown startles the man and he awkwardly hovers his hands over you, unsure of how to handle this.

"Sorry, if I had known, I would've stopped it earlier. I genuinely thought you're..." he sighs. "I'm really sorry. You got hurt because of me."

"Can you please tell me where I am? I feel like I'm going crazy. It's year 202X and I was out with my friends and fell into a well. I've never seen a creature like that in my life. I somehow ended up here and I can't go back. Where the hell is this?"

"I... I don't understand what's happening either. I came here because I sensed he's back. I didn't expect to see... well... you."

You scan his face. His frown is sincere. Which, truth be told, is even less helpful. You're back to square 0, it's getting dark and your ankle is trashed.

You just want to sleep.

You stare at the ceiling, hands locked together over your chest. The improvised hay mattress isn't exactly comfortable, but it's certainly better than nothing. You sheepishly glance at the horned man. He's sitting by the window, idly looking outside with hooded eyes. He seems to be tired, too.

"Try to get some rest", he'd told you earlier. Easier said than done. After the monster attack, he carried you on his back until you found an abandoned hut. His way of apologizing for letting you get mauled. As you walked, he narrated his reasoning to you.

His name is Kiritsubo. When he was a child, a human dressed like an onmyouji took him in for training. Said to be the successor of Abe no Seimei himself, the man was feared throughout the country for his supernatural powers. Most of his strength, however, came from the collection of yokai he'd gathered to work for him. None of them had agreed to it, but no one knew how to break the bond subduing them. Eventually, the old man succumbed into his eternal slumber, yet the yokai were still not freed from the contract.

Some of them suggested he wasn't truly gone. Merely reincarnated. And today, he felt it for the first time. That's how he stumbled upon you. You appear to have part of his soul within you, whether you realize it or not. But if you truly have no knowledge of it, he doesn't have the heart to slaughter an innocent.

"What about the rest?" you blurt out, quietly.

Kiritsubo turns to you, mildly startled.

"What do you mean?"

"You said the man owned 12 legendary yokai. Are you the only one left?"

"No." He frowns. "They most likely know about you already. Let's try to send you back to your world tomorrow, because they will not be as forgiving."

A shiver runs across your spine. This one is scary enough already. You pray you'll be home before you can meet any other beast.

"This is where I found you, so the well shouldn't be far."

The silver haired man surveys the horizon and you limp forward.

"I'll check the area, since you can't walk much."

As soon as he says that, he vanishes. You're left with the heavy buzz of afternoon cicadas. You might as well do your own search. Keep yourself preoccupied. The idea of leaving this behind fills you with excitement and you find enough strength to push ahead.

A few minutes later, you hear a shuffle behind you. Could it be that Kiritsubo already found the well? Enthusiasm fills your chest and a burning heat spreads out. Although it speedily pools in your left shoulder, and you notice in horror that it wasn't enthusiasm taking over your body. A blade is sticking out of your shoulder, avoiding anything vital as some sort of mockery rather than omission.

"Found you."

The voice is deep and foreign. You barely manage to tilt your head and meet the glowing red eyes of a black haired man. Dark horns are twisting menacingly from his crown and his expression is that of pure wrath. As fresh blood drips down your chin, you wonder if this is the next yokai in line to seek his revenge.

How will you get out of this?

#female reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere yokai #yandere demon #yandere monster #monster x reader #yokai x reader #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #original work

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8-0mph · 4 months

Text

Forbidden Dream

This is all of my Adventure Time AU in chronological story order. Thanks to my friend for proof-read.

Act I: Prismo and Betty

This takes some time after the events of F&C. Prismo and Scrabby inhabit the TR(TimeRoom) and Golbetty has gotten restless with her time in space. She decides to reach out to other multiversal beings, but no one wants to associate with Golb. She finally finds someone that puts up with her ..that being the Wishmaster.

Prismo is scared of Golbetty at first, especially Scrabby since he has a little bit of history with her. He scurries off or hides behind Prismo when she is in the TR. To Scrabbys surprise, Pris and Betty hit it off and become good friends. They find they have something in common, which is their “human” past. Theyre both mortals turned to immortals.

The duo start off by drinking and making fanfics together, but then Betty proposes the idea of making these fics “real”. Prismo is hesitant at first but lately he doesn’t mind breaking the rules.

At first they visit universes that Prismo considers safe. They treat them like vacations, and a lot of these worlds do not have the typical AT characters. Theyre peaceful docile places. Prismo gets daring, telling Betty that he wants to feel alive again. The two of them agree to visit a dangerous world, the Vampire Kingdom.

Notes:

- Betty chose her physical form to look like magic Betty because she felt it would be strange to appear as she normally did in the past.

- Prismos physical form is what he looked like as a younger human. He thought it would be more fitting for the “adventure”. Also.. He hates how clothing feels on him, so the see-through garments suffice.

- Scrabby is not happy about their friendship. He feels that Prismo has gotten even lazier, foregoing his Wishmaster responsibilities and even worse, ignoring him. The scarab thought he found someone that was happy to spend time with him for the first time, But feels like he has gone back to being the “forgotten” one.

EP II: Vampire Kingdom

Once Pris and Betty teleport here, theyre immediately caught off guard by a group of vampires that whisk Prismo away and the two are separated. Betty gets surprised by a starved vampire!Simon, who at first doesnt recognize her until he gets a good look at her face.

He refuses to believe its actually Betty and rather a wizard attempting to play tricks on him. Marcy calls his name and he flys away, leaving Betty stunned.

The vampire world is an AU where Vampires take over, but Simon never died and was able to stay with Marcy. Marcy isnt evil here. Simons crown was stolen before he could make a complete transformation into IceKing, and his sanity was kept in part to Marcy turning him to save him from a group of hungry vampires. One curse was replaced with another.

Marcy was turned at a younger age by the VK, but Simon saved her by scratching at the VKs eye (his face scar). Even though the King is furious at Simon for this, he thinks it is more amusing to keep Simon alive and suffering from vampirism. Vampires are starved in this world just like “The Star” episode, but Simon proposes the idea to wrangle human (and animal) survivors and keep them on a reserve to supply the Vampires with a food source. He inevitably becomes the person in charge of the Blood farms. Keep in mind, Simon did this to save humans, otherwise they would have been hunted to extinction.

Unlike the safe worlds PrisBetty visited, this world has most of the original cast in them. Finn is a survivor of the Blood Farms, swearing to kill Simon who he believes imprisoned him in there (which.. is true). The farm is surrounded by booby traps all around the perimeter, no one can get in or out without some level of flying.

Finn always managed to get close to escaping But eventually gets caught in one of the traps. The last attempt caused him to cut his own arm off to be freed and helped by Huntress Wizard. She is one of the few wizards to help the freedom fighters, a band of humans and candy people led by Commander PB. Wizards are hated by Vampires since theyre the few beings that can overpower them. They try to stay out of each others business But huntress is an exception as she feels that the vampires are disrupting the balance of nature.

The Candy Kingdom is fortress walled with wooden spikes and garlic (I thought it would be silly Lol). PBs armor consists of wooden stakes and reminiscent of Golb who she is a follower of. She has access to the Enchiridion and sees Golb as a being that she should harness the power of if the vampires happen to overwhelm her people someday.

The end of the story would involve PrisBetty helping Simon overthrow the VK after Marcy discovers the vampires ability to “drink red” instead of blood. They team up with the help of PB and Huntress. Simon never truly reconciles with Betty as his defense mechanism is to push any feelings of his past away. But he does have a newfound respect for her and tells her to visit him again. Simon will assume the role of Vampire King and free the humans afterward.

Notes:

- Simon is the only vampire dressing in traditionally “Dracula” clothes. Because hes a nerd and thinks its fitting.

- Marcy is raised by Simon here instead of VK, so she is a lot kinder and sympathetic to the humans and candy kingdom (even if she doesnt show it for a while).

EP III: Winter Kingdom

After the Vampire world, Prismo and Betty decide their adventuring is “complete” and attempt to teleport back to the Time Room with Prismos magic. This doesnt work out. Turns out, their human forms have been draining their magic slowly, making it so that they need to find a magical item to recharge. This being the Enchiridion.

This is a totally different world than (Canon) Winter Kings as obviously he is alive here.

Ooo has been mysteriously frozen over and put into an eternal Ice Age. There is hardly any life (apart from immortal beings and those resistant to the temperatures) so hardly anyone lives on the surface. Prismo automatically assumes WK is responsible, but Betty refuses to believe Simon would be the cause of this destruction. WK has a much larger kingdom with a variety of ice people, a lot of them more human-like in appearance. It seems like he is trying to mirror a human society.

Here WK has Bettys skeleton and attempting to use the cloning machine he has in F&C to clone a “real” Betty (which is why he doesnt have an ice clone of her).

The backstory of this WK mirrors my au version of him.

Prismo and Betty are briefly separated and I wont go into too much detail on the story. Betty gets the “safe” tour of the kingdom by WK and Prismo is left to wander in search for the Enchiridion. He starts to see things that point to a darker scene (fire people fighting ice soldiers, lack of any plant life, and ice clones of people who no longer exist). At the same time, Betty is off-put by WKs controlling nature. He reveals to her that he has been in a 100-year war with the Fire Kingdom “who destroy everything” with their flames, while ice “preserves it”. Betty is shocked to see the extent of destruction the Ice Kingdom has caused to Ooo and manages to slip away to do her own investigating. She eventually ends up in the room Bettys corpse is kept, which is the only place that WK allows plant life to grow. The Enchiridion was sitting on skeleton Bettys lap.

The two of them engage in a fight where he details his plan for her and Ooo.

Prismo manages to save her at the end of it. Up until this point hes been a pacifist in the story. They use the Enchiridion to teleport home and they end up.. not there.

Notes:

- I had a bonus page where Scrabby is reacting to PrisBetty not arriving back in the Time Room. He thinks they didnt teleport back on purpose.

- This page also has WK grabbing Bettys ankle right as she teleports. I was going to have WK teleport with them so there was some kind of threat. I am not sure yet.

- The fight scene was supposed to be a lot longer with Betty having the upperhand at first, But I didnt want to draw all of it.

- Winters appearance slowly turns back into Simon when separated from the magic crown.

EP IV: Back Home

They end up in Ooo where the magic teleported them into the sky, making them fall a great distance. They are a little injured, but Betty is mostly shaken by her experience in the Winter world. She redirects this into frustration at Prismo for not teleporting them to the correct place and that they would need to search another “sucky universe”.

Prismo is frustrated and goes off on his own to find another magical object. Betty stays put in the forest. When looking up, Prismo realizes the universe they teleported to was actually the main Ooo upon seeing the floating human city. He rushes back to where Betty was sitting, telling her to go find her Simon here in Ooo, that he knew that he had the Enchiridion in his closet. Betty refuses, knowing that she already said goodbye to Simon years ago and him seeing her again will only hurt him.

Prismo is annoyed at this but walks off, and Betty wanders around the forest until she encounters one of the transport boats that take people up to the city. In her reluctance, she hitches a ride. Meanwhile Prismo reaches a graveyard on the outskirts of the woods, he hides in the bushes and sees a familiar person, Finn, walking up and leaving a bouquet of flowers at the grave.

When Betty makes it up to the city, she explores for a bit before approaching Simon (who is signing a childs book). Before she could say anything, she covers her face with her hat and speeds off. He is at first confused by this but is immediately distracted by the kid again.

Betty is in shock and retreats onto the boat leading her back down to land. She eventually catches up to Prismo, who is kneeling over Jakes grave. She attempts to comfort him, but the words fall short. He asks her if she visited Simon, but Betty says she couldnt do it. At this point Prismo feels like he wasted his time in the Time Room when he could have been spending it in his human form visiting Jake. He remained trapped in the TR unable to spend time with the mortals he built connections with. He feels that Betty is going to suffer the same regret he feels after Simon inevitably dies.

In a turn of events, Prismo places his hand on the grave and it teleports them back into the Time Room. They are amazed by this, Jakes grave acted like a magical object would have. They temporarily celebrate before Betty is impaled by an angry Scrabby.

Bettys human form is heavily injured as Prismo and the Scarab fight in several rooms. Scrabby tells him that he alerted the auditors about their misdeeds. That they will both be locked away for thousands of years or perhaps forever just like he was trapped in the Time Room.

Prismo temporarily subdues Scrabby and goes back to the main room where Betty is. This is where he turns her into a fox to keep her hidden, and promises that her memories are all stored in her body dormant in Golb (Like how Prismos form is dormant in the Time Room).

Fox!Betty wakes up in Ooo, no memories, a feeling of disconnect from her body, and hungry.

End of Act 1

Act II is all about Bettys life as a fox in Ooo. Its a lot calmer and slow burn in comparison to Act I. Upon landing in Ooo, fox!Betty encounters posters advertising Simons* sci-fi series Casper and Nova. She is convinced he is knowledgeable about space because a talking dog told her he was.

*EDIT: Someone pointed out that C&N was written by Astrid (it is implied heavily). Pretend the posters are the two of them working together, maybe Simon helping Astrid write them since she is just a kid.

She starts pestering Simon at one of his book signings and he already dislikes foxes because earlier in the week, a band of them stole his draft for an upcoming book. Betty proposes that she will find the notes and return them to him if she can have a place to stay (Even though he says no, she crashes at his place anyway).

I thought about Simon giving Betty a nickname so that she isnt just referred to as “fox”, so she is “Sunny” since she really likes when he makes sunny-side up eggs. She really likes eggs as a fox that is her quirk.

Update 1/21/24: Sunny encounters Simon after breaking into his home and snooping around for clues. Simon ambushes her in the Golb ritual room, assuming she has come to steal the Enchiridion. Sunny explains herself and claims that she can get Simons draft back from the fox thieves. They go on an “adventure”. It is revealed that fox!Betty can transform into Betty only when unconscious/sleeping. Simon wakes up next to her but assumes he is hallucinating..

Post about Simon and fox!Bettys dynamic.

I couldnt fit all images into this post as there is a 10 photo limit. I decided to link additional photos to underlined text. If you want further context, check those out. I love reading others AUs and was inspired to do my own. Any questions can be left in comment. Thanks for read..!

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soullumii · 11 months

Text

stranded | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you get stranded in the middle of a blizzard. joel comes to your rescue. you share a bed for warmth. things escalate from there...

warnings/tags: 18+ content, MDNI!, smutttttt yurrrr (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, dubious consent, lil bit of somnophilia, joel is packinggg), no outbreak!joel, modern au, implied age gap, soft!joel, pet names (peach, baby, darlin', sweet girl, sweetheart), lil bit of joel being jelly, cuddling to keep the cold at bay, fluff, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 7.6k (idk what the fuck happened)

“Damn it!”

You press down hard on the gas pedal, grimacing when your engine revs but the car doesn’t move an inch.

Your tires skid uselessly over the snow and your headlights reflect into a white wall of nothing—the snowfall so thick you can’t see anything in front of or around you, as if you’re trapped in a snow globe. The road is practically gone from existence.

The only thing you can hear is the wind whistling and the staticky sound of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ going in and out on the radio.

Yeah, you wish he would right about now.

“Fuuuck,” you whine, eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hit your wheel in frustration, dropping your forehead onto the horn. It honks pityingly.

Of course, the one time you were actually going out, you had forgotten to check the weather.

You’re probably going to die out here on this back road through the woods. There’s no one around, not that you can tell, and you’re low on gas. You were going to fill up once you got out of the woods and back into civilization, but the blizzard had other plans.

Your stomach rumbles, crying out for the dinner you had skipped in hopes of having a hearty, post-sex meal with the hook-up you are—or were—on the way to see. Though, that’s certainly not happening, and the snacks you usually had stuffed into the glovebox are gone, your sister having stolen them last week after you dropped her off at school.

(Darn that growing goober!)

You don’t have anything that might prove useful in this situation besides the long, slim heels on your pumps (which could be used in defense), and the thin peacoat wrapped around your shoulders. You check your phone to see if you can call a towing company, but of course, it has zero bars.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper, pressing the heel of your palm to your watering eyes.

“It’s gonna be fine,” you say to yourself, picking your head up and rubbing away the tears in your eyes. You take deep breaths and put the car into park. “You’ll be fine.”

The sudden sound of a knock on your window startles you so bad you yelp, jumping in place as ice cold terror rises up your spine.

You can hardly see who had knocked, only their gray silhouette in the white blizzard.

The stranger knocks again.

“You alright in there?” The shadow asks, a hint of a Texan accent curling their vowels. Shit. It’s a man.

You slowly grab your shoe from your foot, holding it so the heel faces the window, and snow blows into your face as you carefully roll it down an inch or two for precaution, because who knows if it’s a fucking cannibal-axe-murderer who preys on unsuspecting women stranded in the snow. Maybe he does this every year—maybe this is his prime harvesting place and time.

Your eyes are wide as you peer through the opening warily, heel at the ready.

He’s close enough now that you can make out a prominent scowl, hard brown eyes, salt and pepper hair…

…wait a minute. You’d recognize that glower anywhere.

“Joel?”

Your lungs suddenly remember how to work again, and you inhale on a shaky breath. The hand holding your shoe drops to your thigh in relief.

His brown eyes narrow. “Peach…? The hell are you doin’ out here?” He asks, and Jesus you forgot about that stupid nickname he gave you. It sends butterflies loose in your stomach. “It’s a goddamn blizzard.”

You scowl in exasperation, though, at his obvious observation. “Yeah, I think I know that, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“I heard a honk, figured someone needed help.” He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on the circles of mascara around your eyes. “Guess I’m right.”

You straighten in your seat, the gratitude you feel at his presence is overshadowed by the need to look self sufficient and capable, because you are. You’re a grown ass woman! So…

“I don’t need your help,” you huff.

He arches a brow. “Really.” It’s not a question.

You glower. “Maybe.”

Joel leans an arm on the frame of your car, and taps your window once more. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

God, this is so embarrassing!

“Fine.” You roll up the window and turn off the car. Joel tugs the car door open as far as it can go and offers a gloved hand to help you out. You wobble a bit when you step out in your heels, grateful that Joel is there to steady you. Though, the feeling sours a bit when he huffs in disbelief at your shoes.

You send him a glare, “I had plans for tonight, okay?”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” He deadpans.

“It wasn’t that bad when I first started driving.”

“Riiiight,” he drawls, “Well, I’m sorry to say, peach, but you ain’t driving in this mess anymore. You can stay with me tonight.” He says, closing the car door behind you.

Stay? With him?

“Joel, I couldn’t bother you with—“

“I wouldn’t offer if it was a bother.”

Joel’s as stubborn as a bull, more so than Ellie. And she is stubborn. You don’t argue, because it’s fruitless to argue with a brick wall like him. And, faced with freezing to death out here or staying in a well-insulated building, choosing the latter is obviously the right thing to do.

“Okay,” you relent and point to your trunk. “I have a bag back there.”

He raises a brow. “Heels and a bag…What kind of plans were we talkin’ about here?”

A hook up, Joel, you mentally drawl. Because…that’s exactly why you were out.

Like hell you’ll tell Joel that, though, he’d disapprove. He’s always been the protective type. You’ve known him since your junior year in college, after your families practically merged. But you’ve never seen Joel as another dad. He’s always been…something else to you.

“A trip to Nunya.” You supply instead of the truth, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve some heat.

“Nunya?” Joel’s brows furrow.

“Yeah. Nunya business, Joel.” You give him a sardonic smile.

He shakes his head and sends you a look you’re quite familiar with, the one that makes you feel inches smaller. And ten degrees hotter.

Joel sighs in exasperation and wordlessly wrenches the trunk open. He slings your bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.

(It weighs a lot. You’d know, you shoved five different erotica books in there, just in case your date failed to make you orgasm.)

(Though thinking about Joel probably would’ve been enough.)

You lock your vehicle with a bemused glance. “What are we gonna do about my car?”

“I’ll tow it out tomorrow,” Joel says. “Roads are a fuckin’ mess right now.”

You trudge behind Joel to his quaint cottage sleeping cozily between tall pine trees and chubby evergreens. The porch light is on, and the windows glow a comforting orange. Puffs of smoke drift up from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, like straight out of a Christmas movie.

You’re impressed at how close you managed to strand yourself to his house. Maybe Jesus really did take the wheel.

Joel kicks the snow off his boots on his front porch, then opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

When you breach the doorway with Joel at your heels, warmth settles over your cold-bitten cheeks along with an alluring aroma of meat and tomato and spices that hits you in a wave. You’ve never seen Joel cook anything other than Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, or burgers on Tommy’s rusting grill before, so this is certainly a surprise. It could be Sarah or Ellie’s cooking, but last time you checked, Sarah could cook eggs and Ellie could cook, well, nothing.

“So did you hire a personal chef to make whatever smells so good?”

He sets your bag down in the foyer with a grunt and shrugs out of his coat. “I made it.”

You can’t help the disbelieving laugh that bursts out of you, and the slightly offended look on Joel’s face only makes it harder to stop. You cover your mouth with your hand, but you’re absolutely positive he can see the mirth lighting in your eyes.

Though he’s offended, there’s a twitch to his lip, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking.”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” you try to stamp down your giggles. “Yes, you’re capable but… is it edible?”

Your stomach decides in that moment to start rumbling, and he smirks.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You take your coat off and follow Joel towards the kitchen. As you follow, you take in his aggressively Texan decor and furniture. Paintings of cowboys and horses and mountains are hung artfully on cozy, beige walls. The Eagles’ discography drifts merrily in the air from an old record player. There’s a guitar stationed in practically every corner. It’s all so very Joel, though the random space ornamentals and butterfly drawings sprinkled about are so very Ellie and Sarah. It makes you smile.

“Where are the girls?” You ask, because usually those little stinkers would be stationed at the dining room table, bickering over the answer to a ridiculously difficult math problem.

“At Dina’s,” he answers, taking off his gloves and dropping them on the table. “They wanted to play in the snow.”

Oh. So you’re here alone with him. Anxiety prickles at the edges of your mind, sinking in your stomach.

“I guess I was the only one that didn’t know about the blizzard, then.”

“You must be livin’ under a rock to not know about it.”

You grumble in protest, but your grievances disintegrate on your tongue as you enter the kitchen and near the simmering pot. You breathe in the aroma, the smell so powerful it's almost like you’re actually tasting it.

You look over your shoulder at him. “Is this chili?”

He nods. “Want some?”

“Absolutely.”

He comes up beside you to open a cabinet. “Go ‘head make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it out to you.” Your mouth dries at the sliver of skin that peeks out beneath his flannel as he reaches up.

You force yourself to turn around. “Wow. Such a gentleman, didn’t realize you were capable,” you say, your saccharine sweet tone doing well to mask how flustered you feel. You can breathe easier the second you exit the kitchen and enter the living room.

His voice follows you. “A simple ‘thank you’ ‘stead'a this attitude would do you some good, y'know?"

"I know," you sing-song, grinning as you settle yourself down onto his couch, grabbing a blanket from a basket on the way. A fire crackles in the hearth and you study the flames with fascination as warmth spreads across your skin. You tug the blanket around you, pulling it up to your chin.

Joel emerges a minute later and your gaze darts from the fire to the bowl he holds out to you. “Here.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you say emphatically, accepting the bowl and cradling it in your hands.

He smiles, “There we go. Guess you do have some manners.”

You give him a half-bow. Joel just smiles in that familiar way, like you’re just so ridiculous he can’t believe it. It makes your stomach curl giddily.

Having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to his elbows, Joel’s forearms are on display, muscles flexing as he tosses another log into the hearth, and you drop your gaze to your chili, as to not get caught staring. He sits down in the armchair adjacent to you with his own bowl.

You blow on the steaming chili before taking a bite, an involuntary moan releasing from you the moment it hits your tongue—paprika, peppers, tomato, cumin. It warms your stomach pleasantly. Who knew Joel could cook so well?

“This is so good,” you mumble around your bite.

He swallows his own chili down, pupils large as he watches you. “Edible enough for ya?”

You nod enthusiastically, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, unconvinced, but he’s smiling at you again, and you can’t help but return it.

Comfortable silence lapses between the both of you as you eat your meals. Joel finishes first, of course, setting his bowl on the coffee table and leaning into his chair with a satisfied groan. He throws an arm over the back, spreading his legs. You watch him while he watches the fire, heat licking through you.

Eventually, after you slow down, you speak again.

“Thank you, Joel, seriously, for letting me stay.”

His eyes find yours and he nods. “‘Course, peach. Wouldn’t’ve let you freeze out there.”

You nod and glance around, taking in his cabin. A large, stone fireplace is set in the wall, a tree trunk coffee table stationed in the center of the living room, some handmade wood carvings of horses and other animals scattered about. There’s a drawing of himself sitting on the mantel, “To: Joel, From: Ellie” signed at the bottom. Your heart swells.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” you remark.

“I know,” Joel says. “You should come around more often. The girls miss you.”

Your smile turns shy and you feel a spike of bravery. “What about you? Do you miss me?”

He takes a moment to answer, a veiny hand coming up to rub at his beard as he leans on the arm of the chair. Onyx eyes drag down your figure. “‘Course I do, darlin’”

Heat pools hot and thick between your thighs at that look, and you’re about to press him about how much he really misses you when a buzzing in your pocket captures your attention. Your phone. Guess you have some bars now.

marcus: where r u?

Oh right, the hookup!

you: blizzard blocked the roads. won’t make it tonight.

marcus: ok.

You scoff at the lack of depth in his response. Not even a “stay safe out there”? Jesus. You settle into the couch with a frustrated sigh, head thumping against the cushions, eyes falling shut as exhaustion creeps into you.

Boys always thinking with their dicks. Why do you even bother?

“What’s that about?” Joel asks. You peek an eye open at him. Firelight dances across his tan skin. He gestures to your phone. “That gotta do with the real reason for your trip tonight?”

You rub your temple, “Yeah.”

He hums. "...Listen, I know it's none of my business but—“

"It was a hookup, Joel," you interrupt, already knowing where he was going with that. He tends to do that, beat around the bush so much until you’re desperate to just say it. More desperate than he was to know it. You’d rather just skip that whole process.

"Oh,” his brows furrow.

"Yeah," you repeat dumbly, fiddling with the blanket.

"There, uh, ain't no shame in that, darlin'."

You quirk a skeptical brow, "I know."

"Alright," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. Awkwardness settles between you.

"Things are just a bit dry," you supply, though you have no idea why you're still talking, or why you described yourself and the state of your love-life like that because Joel doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that

But it captures his attention, because he's looking at you again, though this time annoyance is written on his features, along with something else you can’t name, his eyes practically black. Damnit, you knew he’d disapprove, even if he claims there’s no shame in it.

“And you went to some random boy for that?"

You straighten on the couch. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Joel? You?” Sarcasm drips from your words.

What the hell is he implying?

His gaze jumps to the fire, the muscles in his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing on the arm of his chair. "Never mind I said anythin'."

Your arms cross defensively over your chest. "I don't need your judgment, Joel.”

"I ain't judgin'."

"Sure sounds like it."

He stands abruptly, running a hand through his peppered locks. "I'm not, I just—listen, it's gettin' late. You should sleep. I didn’t have time to get the girls’ room ready, do you want my bed?”

You shake your head, "Couch is perfectly fine, Joel. Thanks."

“You sure?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m a grown woman who can handle her decisions.”

"I know that.” Frustration laces his words. He sighs, hand coming up to rest on his belt. “Just... let me know if you need anythin'."

“You got it.”

He turns the living room light off on the way to his bedroom down the hall. You don’t watch him leave.

Once he's gone, you change into your pajamas and settle yourself on the couch beneath a blanket or two. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside lulls you to sleep faster than you expect.

-----

“Fuck.”

The aggressive shivers that wrack your body are what wake you up in the middle of the night.

Your blanket is wrapped tightly around you, but it’s a thin, furry thing. Nothing like the down comforter you have at home. The fire has also gone out in the hearth, low flames flickering in the ash.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, curling in on yourself as the cold permeates your skin.

Aside from the chattering of your teeth and the squall outside, it’s eerily silent in the house. You realize, now, that the whooshes from the heating system you had grown accustomed to before are gone

Shit.

You reach for the lamp on the side table, pulling down on the chain. It doesn’t turn on.

“Shit.”

You sit up, blanket wrapped around your waist. The power is out. The snow storm must’ve knocked out a power line. It’s too cold to stay out here with only your thin blanket and the clothes on your back. And Joel had said…

Let me know if you need anythin’.

You really don’t want to bother him, but the goose flesh rippling across your skin and the pathetic way your lips are quivering, along with the shudders that wrack your body as it attempts to maintain homeostasis are not something you can just sleep through.

You tightly wrap your blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe down the hall. You can see a warm light from Joel’s bedroom, the flicker of a flame on the cream walls.

You slowly push the door open but hesitate at the sight of Joel buried comfortably beneath his comforter. You don’t want to wake him… but his room is awfully toasty from the fire crackling away in his own hearth. And his bed looks absolutely heavenly.

You steel yourself and pad to the side he sleeps on.

“Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t respond.

You lean over to gently push his shoulder. “Joel.”

“Mm—“ His brows furrow, and he scrunches further into the blankets, reminiscent of a cat curling its paws over its head when woken up.

You push his shoulder again, a bit harder this time. “Joel. Wake up.”

He swats at the air, as if your hand is a fly buzzing around his ear. “‘M awake,” he mumbles against the pillow.

“Joel—the power went out. I’m freezing.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes still shut. He’s no doubt rolling the words around in his head, trying to make sense of them through a sleepy haze.

Then, when he does, he wordlessly scoots back and reaches for the comforter. He lifts it, offering the space next to him to you.

“C’mere.”

You splutter, taken off guard by the invitation. “What? Joel—“

“‘M not askin’, peach. C’mere.” The last word leaves his lips like a command, and you straighten reflexively, apprehension holding your limbs hostage as want curls dangerously low in your abdomen at his tone of voice. That should be enough warning to not climb into bed with him.

You debate telling him to get his ass up and give you another blanket along with a couple more logs in the hearth so you can avoid any kind of proximity between you (lest you feel those capital-f Feelings), but you can practically feel the heat radiating from the bed and his body beckoning you in.

Oh fuck it.

You let loose a shaky breath and hesitantly slip beneath the covers, facing away from him. You stay glued to the edge of the bed, careful not to let any part of you touch him. Your legs curl into your chest for extra measure. Immediately, it’s so much better. So warm. So comfortable.

And it smells like Joel.

You inhale the earthy and spicy scent of him that lingers on the linen as your head sinks into the soft pillow, but your inhale chokes off as Joel’s strong arm snakes around your waist beneath the comforter, his large hand burning like a brand when it settles hot over your stomach.

He pulls you into him, the sheets swishing as he tucks you into his body. Your back slots against his warm, broad naked chest. His bare legs intertwine with yours, his pelvis almost flush against your ass, only covered by a thin pair of briefs.

Holy shit.

You can feel everything.

“Joel?” You question, voice quivering at the sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”

“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck.

You do feel warmer, though it might not be entirely because he’s holding you, but rather because of how he’s holding you. He’s curled around you, like a koala around a tree, thighs bracketing yours.

You can feel his beard scraping at the nape of your neck, breaths puffing against your feverish skin.

His thumb is rubbing softly along the pudge of your tummy, palm branding your skin, his fingers dipping innocently beneath the hem of your shorts.

You can barely breathe, or even think, heartbeat stuttering as arousal pools liquid hot and heavy between your legs. Every unknowing twitch from Joel’s fingers makes it worse. Every touch of his calloused fingertips against your skin is pure agony. Every brush of your ass against his pelvis has you throbbing. You stare wide-eyed into the darkness, gaze roaming the pitch black, as if something out there could make you forget about the ever-growing desire you feel for Joel.

You can’t sleep like this.

It seems like Joel can though, appearing to already be deep in slumber. He hasn’t moved in a few minutes, his exhales even and slow against you.

You try to ignore the wetness between your legs, ignore the instinctual urge to roll your hips back against him. You should just go to sleep. But this ache you feel, pounding and deep and relentless…You have to do something about it, even with Joel holding you close.

He won’t mind…right?

But how are you supposed to touch yourself with Joel’s hand in the way?

You could just move it. That’s the right thing to do, but it feels too good, so hot and heavy on you that you just don’t want to, and as a result, an idea so absolutely fucked worms its way into your mind, lust and desperation destroying any last semblance of rational thought. You could…

No. No. You can’t do that. He’s a human fucking being, not a hand shaped vibrator.

But… you really want to, and he’s asleep so…he won’t even know…right?

You make up your mind and slowly curl your fingers around Joel’s deadweight palm, biting your lip in concentration and shame as you carefully urge his hand further into your shorts. After each nudge of his palm, you wait to see if Joel gives you any sign of him being awake. But he’s dead asleep. After a moment, you keep going.

This is so fucked, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you finally feel his thick fingers brush over your clothed folds.

“Shit,” you whisper, breathlessly, holding back a whimper. You manipulate his hand so that his palm is resting large and warm over your aching clit, while his index and middle finger are placed heavily above your heat.

And then, you really say fuck you to your morals.

You give an experimental thrust of your hips into his palm, shuddering at the contact against your clit. Then you wait to see if Joel reacts, your head tilting a bit to look over your shoulder. But Joel hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word. Good.

Confident he won’t wake, you rock your hips again and again, holding onto his hand with your own, pressing it down with each thrust of your hips to get that sweet contact. The heel of his palm bumps your aching clit with each thrust, and you bite back moans and whimpers well enough, but you can’t hide the deepening of your breaths as you climb closer and closer to your climax.

Everything else fades away as you just focus on that one goal. On crawling over the edge. You hardly feel the growing smirk pressed to the back of your neck, or the way Joel’s cock is now hard against your ass as you grind against his palm.

“F-fuck,” you huff, eyes tightly shut as you ground yourself in his presence behind you, the beat of his heart thudding against your spine, the rise and fall of his chest, the light, unconscious brush of his lips on your neck. Closure is on the horizon as you imagine him lifting up on his arm and leaning over to actually get you off, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts his fingers into your aching cunt.

“Joel—“ you quietly moan.

The moment his name slips from your lips, his hand suddenly pulls back, and you let out a frustrated groan (he can’t do that!), which quickly turns into a squeak of mortification (oh yes, he absolutely can!).

Because Joel is awake.

He. Is. Awake.

And he knows what you were doing, his chest rumbling against your spine as he—is he fucking laughing at you?

“Needy girl, aren’t you, peach?”

Mortification ignites in your cheeks, nausea pooling in your stomach. “Joel, oh my god, I’m so sorry—“

His hand gravitates to your thigh, curling around it. He pulls it up, inserting his knee in between your legs and he griiiinds it into your clothed cunt. Your desperate apology is cut off by a reflexive wanton moan, your back arching as pleasure reverberates inside you.

“‘S okay, baby, I understand. So fuckin’ desperate you had to use me while I was sleepin’, huh? Didn’t get what you wanted earlier so now you’re searchin’ for somethin’ else, hm?”

His large hand finds your waist again, sliding down your stomach to inch beneath both your shorts and your panties now. You gasp as his fingertips find your clit easily.

“I’m just a ‘lil offended I wasn’t your first choice,” he chides, fingers slipping through your soaking folds. “But I like this much better than you findin’ some boy to get you off. You need’a be fucked by a man, darlin’. Ain’t that right?”

His words send heat straight to your core, thighs clenching around his knee as he ruts it against you while simultaneously stimulating your clit with his fingers.

“Yes, Joel,” you moan. “Need you.”

His teeth scrape against your throat when he growls, “Goddamn right you do.”

You can’t believe this is happening.

Joel slides his hand further into your panties, his middle finger curling in to sink into your soaked cunt. You choke on a gasp.

“Who’s the guy?” He asks, randomly, while his finger rocks into you.

You can’t think as Joel inserts his ring finger alongside the other, stretching you so deliciously. “W-what?”

“The boy you were gonna see tonight. Who is he?”

Who was it? Mark? Matt? And why does he care? You don’t know, you don’t care, only thoughts of Joel Joel Joel consume your waking being.

“I—I don’t know, Joel. Please, oh my god.”

He hums pityingly. “Poor thing can't even remember his name.” His other hand comes up to slide through your hair, gripping the locks at the nape of your neck. He tugs, and you melt. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget mine.”

He doesn’t need to worry about that.

Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit as he thrusts his thick, long fingers up and into you, curling them to hit that spot that has your heartbeat dropping between your thighs, desperate and loud and begging for release.

“Hhhoh— Joel!”

“Tha’s right, baby. So goddamn wet. You’ve been dealin’ with this for awhile now, huh?”

You nod into the pillow on a broken moan as his fingers withdraw and sink into you at a steady pace, his thumb circling and circling and circling.

“Words, baby.”

You cry out, hands gripping the pillow. “Yes, yes. Joel. Been wanting this f’so long.”

“Should’a come to me first. Would’a helped you out a long time ago,” he drawls.

Yes you absolutely should have, based on how quickly you’re approaching your orgasm.

Your cries are so loud, but you don’t care, focusing only on your pleasure and the feel of Joel’s mouth on your throat.

You’re finally getting what you want. And fuck, is it amazing.

Your eyes roll back as it all builds up inside you, Joel’s hand unrelenting as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re scorching, everything hot and intense, your stomach tightening, your legs stretching out as the pleasure builds and builds.

Fuck, you’re gonna cum—

It rips through you violently, eyes prickling with tears, your thighs clenching as your walls bare down repeatedly around Joel’s fingers, making him groan.

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs, hand eventually inching out of you and your shorts to squeeze your thigh appreciatively as aftershocks run through you, thighs quaking and clit throbbing. “That’s what you needed, huh? S’it feel good, cummin’ all over my fingers?”

His fucking voice!

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, sinking into the sheets, eyes drooping shut as pleasure lulls you to sleep.

He tsks, “Wake up, darlin’ I ain’t done with you yet.”

His beard scrapes against your neck as he moves to your ear.

“It’s my turn to use you.”

Your eyes shoot open. Fuck.

Joel pulls your panties down your legs as far as he can, and you squirm to wriggle them off of you.

He pulls away for a moment, but when he’s back, the bare, hot, thick length of him is pressed between your ass cheeks, and a full body shudder runs through you.

Holy shit, he’s big.

He grips your thigh again, but this time he throws it over his own. And then you feel it, the slick head of his cock as he guides it through your folds.

Oh fuck.

“You okay, peach?” He asks, laying a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Now you have tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason. His hand slides across your waist and up beneath the hem of your shirt, palming your breast. Your nipples tighten.

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow down a lump of lava. “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good. Wanna give you all of me, how’s that sound, darlin’?”

You will take whatever, anything you can get from Joel.

“Good, Joel. Yes, please, oh my god.”

“There are those manners.”

A desperate whine slips from your lips as he directs the head of his cock into you, slowly and carefully, his hand running up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. God, he’s stretching you so much, hot and thick and pulsing inside you. It’s almost painful, but it’s a welcome pain.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moan when he stops to let you breathe, “You’re so big.”

“I ain’t even halfway in yet, darlin’.”

“W-what?” How is that even possible?

“You can take it.” He says, sliding in some more and fuck you don’t have much of a choice. but you can, and you will because he feels too fucking good, and you’re ready for him to make you feel it into next week.

“Is…is it all the way in yet?” You ask, thoroughly stretched and filled.

“Almost, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

That makes you clench down even more, and he releases a pained groan behind you. “Relax, darlin’, c’mon.”

You do your best and let yourself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the crackling of the fire.

And then, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up completely, and your mind is right back to him, a soft cry slipping from your lips into the pillow.

“There we go, tha’s it. Good job. Taking me so well,” he croons, stroking your side.

“F-fuck me, Joel, please move.”

He squeezes your ass in his large palm in retaliation to your command. “You use me, I use you, remember?”

But he listens anyway, likely desperate to move himself, because then he’s gripping your hip with a large hand and pulling back just to sheath himself fully into you once more, his cock head bumping against your cervix, and holy fucking shit.

“Joel!” You cry, and he leans over to kiss you, teeth biting at your plump lower lip as he thrusts into you again.

And again.

He rolls into you at a steady, bruising pace, and you’re practically boneless as you just take it. Cries and whimpers and moans spilling out of you like a gas leak as he mouths down your throat, sucking and biting and oh my god this is way better than just getting yourself off on his hand.

Then Joel shifts, pushing at your side to press your stomach into the mattress. You whine as he pulls out of you to situate himself behind you. He grabs your hips with both hands and pulls them up and backwards, easing himself back into you until your ass meets his skin, then he rolls his hips, driving his cock deep from a brand new angle.

All you can do is sob into the pillow.

He’s so fucking big, so fucking deep you can’t think of anything else besides him and his wonderful cock, or the filthy things he’s whispering into your shoulder blades.

His large hand plants itself on your spine, and your hands scramble for purchase on a pillow.

“Sweet girl, taking me so fuckin’ well,” he purrs. “You were desperate for this cock, huh? God, I wish you could see yourself. Split open on me like this. Your little boy toy wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this, ain’t that right?"

You shake your head. God, why did you even make that dick appointment in the first place?

You hadn’t even realized what being fucked by a “real man” meant until now.

Joel knows how to fucking deliver, you guess that’s why he’s so successful in his contracting business. He’s delivering you straight to that blessed release.

You clench around the girth of him, the filthy sounds of your arousal echoing in his room along with the cracks and snaps from the fire burning steadily in the hearth.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you definitely will be able to after this because you’re mindless as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Joel, fuck—mmph—!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Can’t say anythin’ but my name.”

His breathing has become more labored, desperate grunts escaping his lips as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s getting close, deep and gravely moans falling out of him as his thrusts become harder and more sporadic.

His hand sneaks around your front, spanning your entire stomach as he slides down to your soaking folds, his middle and ring finger finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and giving them a gentle tap before circling, using that same method from before that had you squirming.

You writhe on his length, legs falling out beneath you as your orgasm swells within you.

“Please Joel,” you whimper into the pillow.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

It’s there, filling your body, building and cresting and searing white-hot through your limbs.

And then he thrusts a certain way, hitting that spot within you, and his fingers are circling and—

Yeah.

You fall boneless to the mattress as you come apart, your arousal coating Joel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your release, stroking your spine. Pleasure floods through your body as the tension releases, and tears freely fall as you cry into the pillow.

Because goddamn it!

How can something feel so good?

And then Joel’s pulling out of you and letting loose a long, satisfied moan as he comes all over your back, hot stripes painting you.

He collapses next to you, groaning something about his back.

And you can’t help but laugh, delirious and soft, and Joel’s laughing too, brown eyes sparkling. His calloused hand comes up, runs his thumb along your jaw, and he’s smiling at you, soft and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

“You alright, peach?”

“Ohhh yeah,” you giggle, sighing with contentment.

You’re gonna be feeling this for days, just like you wanted.

Joel’s lips brush against your forehead gently, and you’re too tired to acknowledge it, slumber pulling you under far too quickly. You think you can feel the gentle swipe of a wet washcloth on your back before you pass out.

-----

“Fuck…”

The bed is empty when you wake, and a spike of anxiety shoots through you as you sit up. A fire still crackles in the hearth, a fresh log dropped in the ash. On the night stand is a note, beneath it, one of Joel’s t-shirts, your jeans, and a pair of your underwear.

Mortification climbs through you as you read:

Peach,

My bathroom’s on the left if you’d like to shower. I hope you don’t mind, I went through your bag to get you some panties underwear. Lot of books in there. You sure like to read.

Oh god, he found your erotica stack. The covers are not misleading, either, he definitely knows what kind of books they are. You force yourself to keep reading through the humiliation.

I’m out picking up Sarah and Ellie, I’ll be home soon. There’s pancakes on the counter. We’ll tow your car when I get back.

Also–about last night…we don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that if you ever need something like that again, I’m here. And for anything else. I’m here. Always.

See you soon.

Warmth fills your body and you reread those last sentences over and over.

Always. Does he really mean that?

You check the alarm clock on his nightstand–it’s eleven fucking a.m. Holy shit, you haven’t slept that late in a long time.

When you stand, an ache radiates through you, and memories of last night flit in your mind and along with them, a fresh new wave of arousal. You scramble for the shower.

You emerge fresh and clean twenty minutes later, smelling like Joel, having only his body wash and shampoo to use. Each inhale is practically torture, and the ache between your legs is just another reminder. Seeing yourself in his shirt makes it worse. You try and push it away.

You descend the steps, halting when you hear the sound of Ellie’s voice from the kitchen.

“And I was like, pew pew! And I got both of them out!”

Sarah’s scoff of disbelief follows. “Nuh-uh! You didn’t even hit me!”

You creep down the steps, smiling a bit at Ellie’s outcry of “Yes I fucking did!”, and then you hear it–Joel’s low laugh, the Texan drawl.

“You kiddos are gonna drive me crazy. Just eat your damn pancakes.”

“Why’d you make these in the first place? You don’t even like pancakes,” Sarah teases.

“Uh…”

You decide you should probably help him out. “Hey girls.”

Three heads snap in your direction. The eyes of one skirting down your body, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The other two brighten in shock.

“What are you doing here!” Ellie gasps.

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Sarah adds.

You enter the kitchen and come up behind them to pull them in for a hug, your arms hooking around their necks. You smush their cheeks against yours. Ellie grumbles, Sarah laughs.

“I know! I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m just super busy with being an adult and all that shit,” you say, letting them go so they can breathe. You round the island, grabbing a plate and stacking two pancakes on it.

“Well, stop being busy. We miss you,” Ellie says.

“If I could, I would.”

“Why are you wearing Dad’s shirt?” Sarah asks, eyes narrowing, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“I–um–” the question catches you off guard, and you scramble for an excuse, eyes flicking to Joel desperately. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his broad chest, now covered in yet another, dark flannel. How many does he own?

“Snowstorm stranded her here last night, and she didn’t have any clean clothes,” Joel says, definitively.

It’s not a lie at all, and yet, it feels like one.

Sarah and Ellie exchange a look that says, yeah fucking right. You shovel pancake into your mouth to try and cool down the blush in your cheeks.

“Speakin’ of,” he continues, “I’ve got the tow dolly all hooked up so when you’re done, we can tow your car out.”

“Great. Thank you, Joel.”

His brown eyes flick between yours, his hand coming up to rest large and warm on your shoulder. “‘Course, sweetheart.”

You finish your pancakes without any more embarrassing questions from the girls, thank God, and then you’re out in the snow wearing a pair of Joel’s boots stuffed with socks (they’re too big, but they’re better than heels) and bundled up in one of his coats, watching Joel tow your tiny car out of the snowbank.

It’s just as cold as yesterday, though the dreary sky has cleared into a baby blue, the sun bright and high above the clouds. The roads are clearer, the snow plows having come by not too long ago.

You grimace as you hear your car groan and creak as Joel pulls it out of the snow, big puffs of it falling off the roof in clumps. Eventually, it’s on solid ground once more, and he tows it back toward his cabin.

Back in the driveway, Joel hops out of his truck and double checks your car. He pats the roof of it when he deems it accetable. “All good to go, sweetheart.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you so much Joel, seriously.”

He nods, though he looks…nervous for some reason. “‘Course, darlin’. Glad I could help.”

You don’t really want to leave, but you’ve bothered him long enough, so you stroll to the driver's side and go to open it, but suddenly Joel’s hand comes down to keep it closed. You look up at him confused.

His expression is hard, serious as he looks down at you. “Do you regret last night?”

Well. You were not expecting that. You thought that, maybe, it would just remain undiscussed. A blip. Something you both shared, but never spoke of again. You know your answer, though.

“No. I don’t.”

“Good,” he says, eyes dark, “me either.”

He opens the door for you, pauses for a second then shuts it, voice desperate. “I just need to say this, before you go.”

You nod, encouraging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his graying locks. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and shuts his eyes tight. When he opens them again, there's a hard determination in them. Your pulse quickens, your legs turn to jelly.

“I like you, peach,” he says. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me because of the whole single father thing. And, also because I’m me. But I just thought I’d tell you how I felt, because,” he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, “I’m thinkin’ you might like me, too.”

Your hands are shaking, and not because of the cold. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with how lucky you've been these past fifteen hours.

“I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, Joel," you confess.

“Oh,” he says, breathless, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your own grin forming to match his.

The breeze shakes the evergreens, drifting flakes of snow onto Joel’s graying hair. His nose is reddened by the biting cold, but his eyes are warm as he smiles down at you.

“Not gonna lie to you sweetheart, I’m kind of glad you got stranded here.”

"Yeah, me too," you laugh, and then you pull him down to you, pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss.

This kiss is the exact opposite of the one he gave you last night. It’s careful, sweet, tentative. He reveres your mouth, rather than ravishes it. You’re both bundled in multiple layers, standing in the freezing cold rather than lying naked in a warm bed.

And yet, it’s just as perfect, if not more.

Eventually Joel pulls back, hands heavy on your waist. He’s still grinning. His hands frame your face, his thumb running softly along your cheekbone.

“Peach,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller

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demieyesore · 5 days

Note

so dom!mattheoriddle x shy!reader x Theodore Nott who’s there to just hold her and force her to take Mattheo.

just reader, sitting on Theodores lap and him having a hand grasping her two hands and one on her thigh to keep them open. Reader is crying from overstimulation and try to move her hips, while Mattheo is literally pounding into her furiously for talking to another guy. Theodore agreeing with him. 🫢

Jealousy, Jealousy - M.R x Reader x T.N

Summary - A fanfic in which Mattheo and Theodore see you becoming flustered by another boy and get jealous.

Warnings / Mentions - GN!Pronouns, AFAB!Reader, Shy!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Theo is just kind of there, Theo gets no action LMFAO, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Reader isn't actually interested in the third party, they only get flustered because they're shy, mention of Hayden Christensen's character Sam because I love him so much that I had to include him...size kink for sure, humiliation kink, breeding kink, mentions of baby trapping, squirting

A/N - As soon as I read this request, I got a second pulse ONG. Also as someone who is shy, writing this made me feel like a total slut

Requested - Yes

Word Count - 2,697

Tag list - @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely @yourenogoodforme @gallerygourmet (Add yourself to my tag list and or remove yourself by going to my pinned post! You can also pick an anon emoji through my pinned post!)

Your whole life you have been a shy person; Always getting embarrassed in the most stupid and silly situations. You once got flustered while buying an item at the store, you were trying to explain yourself and stuttering over your words when the shop keeper told you that she was only kidding. The item in question was a packet of Band-Aids, you needed them because you were always tripping over yourself, always finding mysterious bruises and cuts on your body. Unfortunately, Mattheo and Theo had gone a little wild the night before, your neck was absolutely covered in hickeys.

Despite you trying to cover up the purple and red markings; the first thing the older lady said to you when she grabbed the box was, "Honey, you might need to grab another pack with how your neck looks." Of course her comment caught you off guard and you immediately tugged at the hoodie you had on, pulling the neckline upwards in a clumsy attempt to hide the love bites.

So really, it should be no surprise that when a Slytherin boy came up to you and flirted with you; completely unashamed, might I add. You reacted very awkwardly, your face promptly heating up.

You were outdoors in the courtyard of Hogwarts, leaning against one of the trees while practicing a spell from the previous class lesson. You scratched at your head in annoyance and confusion when it once again failed. You huffed a frustrated breath of air as you pocketed your wand.

When you weren't paying attention, a boy walked up to you and cleared his throat to get your awareness. Your eyes drifted up to his face, he had black hair with a streak of blue running through it. He had a multitude of piercings but his most noticeable was one sticking out from below his lip. He wore thick eyeliner and maybe even some black eyeshadow if you were to look close enough.

You recognized him as one of your classmates, Sam. You had never really talked to each other, but you weren't oblivious to him staring during lessons. It never bothered you, it did always startle you and bring a small amount of pink to flush your cheeks. It wasn't out of attraction to him though, more so just being more conscious of yourself knowing that you were being watched, seen, and perceived.

"Having trouble?" He asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Your eyes widened as you stumbled out a response.

"No, well I mean yes, but not anything too hard..." You replied, anxiously messing with your after school outfit. Sam was quick to mutter something under his breath, something that you didn't quite catch but you swore that you heard him say, "Not harder than me."

He quickly spoke up again, speaking more clear this time and with confidence. "You should come to my dorm tonight, my roommate and I are throwing a little party." Your face visibly faltered, and hesitancy was evident on your features. "I'm sorry Sam, I don't really go to parties and I'm supposed to hang out with Mattheo and Theo."

He looked you up and down briefly, his tongue sucking on his canine in what seemed like irritation. "What they don't know won't hurt them." He gently grabbed your hand, playing with the ring that your boyfriends collectively bought for you.

"Sam, I really wish I could go but I just don't think I can make it tonight..." You whispered, biting the inside of your mouth as anxiety filled your system.

"God, are you stupid? I'm trying to say that I like you." His free hand ran through his hair, messing up the typical style he had it in.

Sam was a cute guy, don't get me wrong, but you simply weren't interested and you already had two boyfriends. Which sometimes they can be even a little much to deal with.

Sam's effort to convince you to go was abruptly stopped as a fist connected with his face. He fell backwards, dropping his grip on you when Theo protectively held you against him. Mattheo shook his hand, trying to find relief from the pain he had caused from punching the douchebag flirting with you.

Mattheo basically spat at the fellow Slytherin, "Yeah? Well guess who's dating them." Mattheo would've beat his fucking ass if you let him; Jealousy was raging through both of the boys. Mattheo was more loud about his anger while Theo was just passive until violence was necessary.

Mattheo didn't want to spend another goddamn minute of his time near this asshole, he was already on the ground so there's no need to continue the fight when he's already won. Mattheo's hand grasped your upper arm, dragging you in front of him as he walked away from the Courtyard. Theodore followed loosely behind, his hand resting on the lower part of your back.

They lead you through the corridors, not uttering a single word as they pushed you into their shared dorm. They had already shed their school robes before the quickly ended fight, never wanting to wear the uniform afterschool.

"What a fucking dickhead." Mattheo scoffed, referring to the scene that just played out. He sat on the end of his bed, manspreading while trying to shake the feeling of jealousy. His hands with intertwined as his head hung, just looking at the ground. Theo on the other hand was massaging his temples as if he had a headache.

"The audacity to say all that bullshit is unbelievable." Theo's accent was more prominent, often a result of his temper running thin.

He said an array of curse words in Italian, none of which you could understand. Mattheo just kept staring at the ground, something was definitely on his mind besides the interaction.

You sat down next to Mattheo, Theo still standing; even beginning to pace back and forth. Mattheo put one of his large hands on your thigh, kneading the skin possessively. He was now staring at your thighs and how his hand roamed your skin. His opposite hand was holding up his face as he lazily laid on his palm.

"Why were you blushing?' He finally asks, his fingers impatiently tapping along his cheekbone. Theo's pacing stops as he turns to look at the both of you. His eyebrows furrowing as he thinks back.

You tilt your head in puzzlement, "What?" Mattheo groans, throwing his head back before turning towards you. His left leg hiking up onto the bed. His hands moving to latch onto your hips while he leans in. His face laying on your shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. "I said, why were you blushing? He said he liked you, and you were blushing." Mattheo murmured, his controlling side peaking out. He was trying his hardest to stay calm with you, but he couldn't keep his thoughts away. He saw how you looked at that freak, a blush settled on your face while he messed with the ring that he and Theo got you. It was a promise ring, although that part was technically a secret. They never called it a promise ring, just a gift. But both of them knew that it was them promising themselves to you and to each other as they adorned the same matching ring.

"Mattheo- I was just flustered, you know how anxious I get...especially with other people..." You defended but Mattheo persisted. "With other people? Are Theo and I not enough to get your heart racing?" He quipped back as he selfishly left kisses on your throat.

"That's not what- that's not what I meant!" You stuttered out, your heartbeat increasing in your chest. He hummed against your neck, sending vibrations down to your core. "Right, I forgot, you only get shy around us when we fuck you."

"Mattheo, don't say that..." You whined, embarrassment flooding your veins. "Why not? Too vulgar for you?" He questions, still pressing firm kisses into you. Theo finally laughed a little bit, already knowing where this was going. He sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard while he watched the heating up conversation.

"Yes! You always say such...risky things..." You mumble out, trying to find the words to explain his vocabulary. "Risky? You really think so? Theo, what do you think?" Mattheo scoffs, his arms protectively enveloping you while he looked over your shoulder at Theodore. Your back was turned to the boy with light brown hair.

Theo thought for a moment, pausing just long enough for you to nervously push at Mattheo's hold on you. Suddenly you felt too warm, like your skin was on fire. Mattheo tightened his grasp on you, placing another kiss to your neck. "Stay still." He whispered, his voice low and commanding.

Theodore ultimately decided to say, "I think...they should be just as flustered when talking to us. We're your boyfriends after all." His sentence started out directed at Mattheo but switched over to you at the end. "Theo-" You whined out in a complaint.

"Always so whiny..." He counters while Mattheo sucks at your jawline, demanding your attention once more. "You heard him. We're your boyfriends, that nobody shouldn't be getting reactions out of you that we don't." Mattheo lets go of his clutch on you, shoving you backwards, leaving you to fall towards Theo. His soft hands pulled you into the free space between his legs. You were in a position where you were partially sitting upright against his chest but loose enough that you were still laying down.

Theo's hands gripped the underneath of your thighs, prying your knees to bend so your legs were open. Mattheo swiftly removed his shirt, tugging the fabric over his head. He shuffled over to your open legs. He practically yanked off your pants, pulling your underwear down along with it.

"This okay?" Mattheo glances up at you, checking in with you. He observed as you nodded your head slowly. One of Theo's hands gripped your jaw, his sultry tone dripping. "Words."

You twisted your head away from the boys, wanting to just disappear from shame. "It's okay..."

"Good, because you obviously need a reminder that we're the only ones that can make you feel like this." Mattheo mumbled under his breath. He undid his belt, tossing it to Theo. Theo made quick use of the leather, tying your wrists together as he secured the rest of the belt in his mouth. Wanting to make sure that you couldn't move your hands while his own held your legs open.

Mattheo unzipped his jeans, freeing himself from the restrictions of his boxers next. He spat his saliva onto his cock, stroking himself a couple of times to coat the fluid over his dick as a makeshift lube.

"Sorry sweetheart, not getting you ready for me today. I need you now." He admitted, lifting your hips and forcing them to wrap around his waist.

He ran his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness. "Holy shit, no foreplay and you're absolutely soaking. You little slut." He ridiculed. You failed in an attempt to close your legs, feeling the embarrassment seep into you while Theo tightened his hold on you, keeping your legs secured in place.

"Aw, poor baby, too flustered from my words alone?" He mocked as you rocked your hips closer to him, teasing his tip.

"So needy for cock..." He whispered as he finally pushed into you. Your walls squeezed around him as you tried to adjust to his size. "Fuck, don't snap my dick off. I forgot how tight you are, shit." He said breathlessly at the feeling.

He slowly moved, trying to ease your cunt into the movement. When you started to roll your hips onto him, Theo slapped your thigh, holding you down with enough pressure so that way you couldn't get yourself off.

Mattheo gained his pace, his hands laying on your hips as he thrusted into you. You could feel Theo's boner pressed against you but he made no strive to relieve himself in anyway. Mattheo pounded into you with no mercy, the sound of your moans echoed in the dorm. You tried to hold back your moans, even trying to muffle them. Mattheo could feel you flutter around him as you climaxed for the first time.

"Couldn't even hold off on one orgasm for a little longer? Fuck, you're such a little slut, you'd probably like it if I slapped you. Maybe you'd cum on my dick harder if I manhandled you." You whimpered at his words, they repeated in your mind as he kept fucking you through your high. But he didn't stop and you knew he wasn't gonna stop.

"Oh come on baby, you can take a little more can't you? Don't you want to be good for me?" He taunted as he slammed back into you. "You know that nobody else could make you cum like this right? Ain't ever gonna leave us." He chattered to himself possessively, as if he was talking himself through the experience.

His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his own high, his eyes were closed tightly as his head flew back. He was still pumping deeply inside you as he came. He pulled out for a second, watching as his cum leaked out of your sopping hole. "So pretty when my cum is inside you."

His eyes darkened as he swallowed harshly. He pushed his tip back at your entrance, but not fully entering you. He was pushing his cum back into you, his eyes were hazy as he re-entered you.

"Can't fuck anyone else if you're carrying my baby, now can you?" He fantasized aloud. He quickly regained his composure, regaining speed, not even allowing you the time needed to recover from your climax.

"Mat-Mattheo, stop, I'm too sensitive..." You whimper out, moans falling loosely from your lips like a waterfall. You could feel the wetness between your thighs, you could feel every single touch, your skin was crawling. It was all becoming way too much. "Too much, it's too much-" You could feel your mouth going dry as you started to overheat, but none the less, Mattheo kept tearing through your cunt. "All worn out? Too fucking bad." He muttered in a cold tone, not caring about the discomfort you were feeling. You tried to pull your hands apart, the skin itching from the leather belt wrapped around them. Tears began to form in your waterline.

Mattheo was essentially abusing your pussy, all he wanted and craved for was to feel you pulse around him. He drilled into you, observing as you stiffened again, your body shaking as another orgasm was pulled from you. Tears were fully streaming down your face from the overstimulation.

"So fucking precious when you cry, all tired from my cock ruining you. I wonder just how cockdrunk I can get you." You mumbled, jutting your hips out as you squirmed from pleasure and pain. Theo struggled to hold you down, groaning when you accidentally rub against his painful erection. "Stop fucking moving." Mattheo demands, slapping your cunt causing you to whine.

Theo removes one of his hands from your thigh, placing pressure on your lower stomach, making it so you could feel Mattheo's cock inside you even more. You moaned so loud that it was almost pornographic. "Feel that?" Mattheo asks, throat going dry when he sees the bulge in your stomach. He looks at Theo for a second, speaking as if you weren't even there. "Fuck, you should see just how our baby's cunt sucks me back in. Every damn time." He moans, as he cums inside you again. Filling you up, he still doesn't stop, not until the bed is dripping in your liquids.

He finally comes to a stop, pulling out of your pussy with a pop as you squirt. You sprayed his dick with the fluid as he just smiled down at his work with a dominant aura. He was getting off on the fact that he had made you squirt, getting off on the fact that only he and Theo could make you cry from how good they felt.

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serpentandlily · 1 month

Text

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny IV

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny IV - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: a lil bit of angst, a lil bit of fluff, a lil bit of suggestion

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

To say he was panicking would be an understatement.

No, Eris had felt panicked when he had opened the door to his chambers and realized his mate was not there. But that panic turned to full-fledged terror when he had finally tracked down the two handmaidens he'd assigned her this morning and they both said they had no idea where his mate was.

He stalked through the Forest Home---trying to appear calm and nonchalant despite what he felt. He didn't want anyone to catch wind of something being amiss. Not before he was able to find his mate and safely get her back to his chambers. Lucky for him, he'd been forced to wear a mask his whole life and this was no different.

A bark from behind caused him to whirl around. Ashera came running from around the corner, ears flapping and tail wagging. That had to be a good sign. She yipped again when she caught up to him and gripped the edge of his cuff in her sharp teeth.

"Did you find her, Ash?" Eris asked, quietly.

He was answered with a pull of her teeth. His shoulders loosened with relief and he let Ashera guide him to wherever it was that she had found his mate. He had given Ashera the order to find her the minute he realized she was missing and had gone the opposite way of her to cover more ground.

A few moments later, he found himself in front of the doors to the library. Ashera let go of him and started to paw at the doors with a whine. He could hear two voices from behind the doors. His mate's and....

He grabbed both handles and yanked open the double doors, stalking inside.

"And do you want to know what I said—" His brother, Finnegan, abruptly cut off his sentence when the sound of the doors slamming shut behind Eris and Ashera caught his attention. He looked up, smirking when he caught sight of his frazzled brother.

Seated in front of his brother, a chessboard on the table between them, was his mate. She turned in her chair, eyes wide as she looked over with surprise until she recognized who was there. A soft smile bloomed on her beautiful face, her doe eyes lighting up.

No one had ever looked at him like that when he entered rooms. Not even his own mother. No, he was usually met with either fear or disdain. But not from his mate... She should've been staring at him with disgust or contempt, especially after how he had treated her yesterday and especially after their argument this morning when he forbade her from leaving his room. Instead, she seemed happy to see him.

Was she putting on a front for his brother?

"Eris!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat. "You're back. Oh, you won't believe the day I've had! Finn found me wandering around and—"

"Come here," Eris ordered, cutting her off. He held out his hand towards her. His brother's smirk grew as Eris glowered at him. His mate’s eyebrows rose in question but she thankfully listened to him, walking to his side and grasping his hand in her much smaller, much softer one.

Ashera let out an excited yip and brushed up against her legs, causing his mate to smile down at her. Honestly, he should've known she was his mate the minute his hounds hadn't torn into her when she first appeared in Autumn that day. Should've known the second Ashera had pranced forward and tried to comfort her, for Gods' sake. His dogs were prime hunters, yet around her, they were reduced to nothing more than fluffy house pets it seemed.

He remembered seeing her for the first time, her leg stuck in that bear trap. Despite the tears running down her face and her hair tangled with leaves and twigs, she was the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. So soft and delicate. The opposite of everything he was.

But the mating bond hadn’t truly snapped until the shadowsinger had shown up in the clearing that day and whisked her into his arms. She had looked straight at him and a golden thread had unwoven in his chest, causing him to stagger back just as they disappeared in a swirl of shadows. It had taken all of his will power not to immediately storm the Night Court if only to see her for a second more.

“Can I not have her for a few more minutes, brother?” Finn asked, tossing his arms behind his head and resting his head against them with a smug grin. “We’re nearly finished with our game.”

Eris sneered at his brother. “If I see you sniffing around her again, I’ll rip out your throat.”

“Eris!” His mate exclaimed, looking up at him with wide eyes. He ignored her, still glaring daggers at his brother who didn’t even flinch at the threat.

“You’re lucky I stumbled upon her before father did,” Finn crooned. “I’d say you owe me one for allowing her the pleasure of my company.”

“Well, consider me not ending you where you stand your one and only favor,” Eris retorted. His mate went to pull her hand from his but he gripped her tighter, finally looking down at her. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

He stalked towards the library door, pulling her with him despite her soft protests. He didn’t say a word to her as he led her back to his chambers, not wanting any servants milling about to gossip if they heard anything. He only released her hand once they were safely in the living area of his quarters and behind the heavy wards set up.

“Are you out of your mind?” She hissed at him, holding her hand to her chest.

“Are you?” He bit back, flicking his hair out of his face. “I gave your strict orders to stay here while I was gone or with your handmaidens!”

“I am not something you can just keep under lock and key!”

“You’re not in the Night Court anymore, bunny,” Eris argued. “My father is nothing like Rhysand. The males outside these doors are nothing like those two wretched Illyrians. I can have you chained to my bed and no one would bat an eye, do you understand?”

“And is that what you’ll do if I don’t listen to you?” She retorted, crossing her arms. “Put me in chains?”

“No,” he snapped. “But I will lock you in here if I must. I’d rather you hate me than let anything happen to you.”

“Then take me out with you,” she protested. “Don’t leave me here!”

Eris let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking down at his irritating, foolish, and completely and utterly bewitching mate. Her large eyes were hopeful, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. The mating bond was driving him absolutely wild. He wanted to shove her against the wall and rip that lip out of her teeth with his own.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Fine,” he growled. “But if I agree to take you out tomorrow afternoon, you will agree to stay inside my chambers unless otherwise instructed. Do you understand?”

Those sweet, alluring eyes turned callous in a matter of seconds.

“So, you intend to treat me like a dog? Like a pet?” she snapped, crossing her arms. “Actually, I take that back. You even treat your dogs better than that!”

As if proving her point, Ashera jumped up on the couch, laid down and covered her face with her paw, as if she felt his mate’s exasperation.

“Have you any idea what is at stake here?” he bit back. “I do not intend to treat you like a pet. I intend to keep you safe!”

“And you think by keeping me locked away, I’ll be safe? They all know where your chambers are, Eris. I’m no safer here than I am anywhere else in this manor!”

“At least, I’ll know where you are! Do you have any idea how worried I was when I went to find you earlier and you weren’t here?”

Her eyes widened and her arms fell limp at her sides. “You… you were worried?”

Eris tossed his arms in the air, letting out a noise of frustration. “Of course, I was worried. Do you know how many enemies I have in this court? Do you know how many people would wish to harm you if they had the chance just to hurt me?”

“I thought…” She paused, rubbing her arm.

Eris glared down at her. “You thought what? Go on, bunny, tell me what that little mind of yours thought?”

“I thought you were mad! And can you blame me?” she huffed up at him. “You treat me like a nuisance, insult me any chance you get! Why the hell would I ever think you were worried about me? I’m sure you’d just be so over the moon if someone did get rid of me! Since I’m such a burden.”

There were a lot of things in life Eris regretted but calling his mate a burden this morning was now on the top of that list. He hadn’t meant it. Of course, he hadn’t. She just didn’t understand the severity of the situation. He didn’t want to be mean to her or to have her hate him… but if it kept her safe, then so be it. At least, that had been his train of thought. But seeing the hurt on her face when those words had come out of his mouth had nearly killed him.

“I’m sorry, okay,” Eris groaned. “I’m sorry I called you that. It’s not true. It was never true but bunny…you really don’t understand…”

“No, Eris, I do,” she snarled. “I’m not as stupid or naive as everyone likes to think I am!”

“Not naive?” Eris mocked. “Then what do you call galavanting around the Forest House with one of my own brothers?”

“Your brother was fine,” his mate replied. “He was perfectly polite. All he did was show me around a bit and then take me to the library as I requested.”

Eris scoffed. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“You know what’s funny? That is the exact thing my sisters would say about me and yet they have no idea who I am. They’ve never let me be anything other than the girl they think I am. Have you thought that perhaps this competition your father has you all so convinced of between you guys doesn’t even exist? Have you ever even tried talking to one another without your father’s influence?”

She wasn’t wrong but Eris knew how deep his father had his claws in his brothers. It would take a lot to shake them from his grasp. Time and effort he wasn’t afforded with at the moment. Not when he constantly had to look over his shoulder and now had to keep his mate safe at all times. This court was corrupt and dangerous—everyone here was in survival mode.

These hypotheticals might be worth a discussion and if it were up to him, he would’ve taken his mother and younger brothers far away from his father a long time ago. But alas, he did not have such power…yet. But perhaps things could change. Though, nothing would so long as his father still sat on the Autumn throne. Until then, these sorts of conversations were not worth the time.

“You speak on things you have no knowledge about and I see little point in having this conversation with you,” Eris said, straightening out his lapels. “I have a meeting I must attend with my father. Stay here.”

And then he left swiftly, before his mate could see just how much her words affected him, before he grabbed her and winnowed as far from this court as he could—consequences be damned. She drove him absolutely mad but Gods, did he find her so enticing. She was wild and impulsive and had a lot to learn, but the sort of honesty and hopeful outlook she had…Well he could only hope he could protect that, hoped he could keep her sweet and kind and soft and all the things no one had ever allowed him to be.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You had just woken up when your two handmaidens, Willow and Ivy, entered the room, pestering you to get up. Bleary eyed, you let them drag you into the bath before they sat you in front of the vanity. Ivy braided your hair while Willow dusted some light makeup on your face.

“Can I ask what you are prepping me for?”

“Lord Eris has requested that we get you ready for an afternoon trek on horseback,” Ivy answered, with a slight smile on her face.

Your eyes widened, taken aback. You hadn’t spoken to Eris since your fight yesterday. In fact, he had never even returned to his chambers last night. You didn’t try to leave, in fear that you would find the door locked and all your worries of the kind of male you were mated to would be proven true. Instead, you had pretended that a night in was just what you wanted, begrudgingly following his command.

They dressed you in an off the shoulder linen chemise and flowy skirt that fell to your shins before lacing you into a burnt orange corset that had your lungs screaming for air. They slipped a pair of brown leather boots onto your feet.

“Surely trousers would be more appropriate?” you asked, spinning around so your skirt swished around the tops of your boots. Ivy and Willow gasped at your words, placing a hand over their hearts.

“A lady should never be seen in trousers,” Ivy declared, aghast.

Their shock was humorous to you, so you bit your lip to keep from laughing. Gods, the Autumn Court was so backwards sometimes. You were getting better at choosing your battles, so you said nothing else as they led you out of Eris’s chambers to the horse stables.

Eris stood there next to another male who was preparing two horses. Your mouth dried a bit at the sight of him. He was wearing a loosely tied tunic, tucked into brown breeches and a pair of riding boots. His red hair glimmered in the sun like a ruby gem, his pale skin nearly glowing. He looked as if the Autumn forest made him itself.

You hadn’t realized you had paused in your steps until your two handmaidens giggled next to you.

“You are a very lucky female, Lady Y/n,” Ivy whispered to you with another giggle, causing your cheeks to turn pink.

“Lord Eris is a very lucky male to have someone as lovely as Lady Y/n as his mate,” Willow countered, which only made your blush deepen.

Eris noticed you as you drew closer and his eyes trailed over your form, heat swirling in them. You felt goosebumps rise on your skin under his gaze. His fox-like face was so beautiful, so enchanting, it was hard to look away. You kept eye contact with him as your handmaidens presented you.

“Lady Archeron, as you requested, my Lord,” Willow said as she curtsied.

“Thank you, ladies, you may continue on with the rest of your duties,” he said to them, though he didn’t stop looking at you which caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. The two girls sauntered off, their giggles heard until they rounded the corner.

You wanted to be mad at him still, but this seemed like a sort of peace offering or apology for yesterday. One that you decided to accept. You walked forward until you were at his side, glancing at the large horses.

“This is Marigold. She is our most well-mannered horse,” Eris said. “Go on, you can pet her. She won’t bite.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse, my Lord,” you said, shyly, reaching out a hand to pet the one in front of you.

Eris seemed surprised but made no comment on it. He simply turned to the stableboy and waved a hand at him. “One horse will do today, Landon.”

“Oh, are you going to teach—”

You squeaked as Eris grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto the horse as if you weighed nothing, your cheeks turning bright red. A moment later, he lifted himself onto the horse, right behind you. The butterflies in your stomach were worked into a frenzy as his long legs encompassed you and your back was pressed against his firm chest.

“Yes, bunny, I’m going to teach you,” Eris whispered, his breath dancing along the edge of your pointed ear. You could hear the smirk in his voice, as if he knew exactly the kind of reaction he was causing inside of you.

“Is this not improper?” you asked. “Aren’t ladies supposed to sit with both their legs on one side?”

It had been a hard transition for you—to go from living in poverty in that tiny cottage to living in high society. You weren’t like your other sisters who had spent their childhood years being trained to be ladies. You could hardly remember any part of your life before your mother died.

It was, perhaps, why you felt the closet to Feyre of all your sisters. Because she, too, was wild in a way that Elain and Nesta weren’t.

“Something tells me you have no concern over how ladylike you are, bunny,” Eris chuckled, his hard chest rumbling against your back. Your cheeks flared up again and you tossed him a glare over your shoulder.

“Everyone else seems so concerned about my virtue and image,” you hissed.

“Well, I’m not,” Eris retorted. “Go on, grab the reins.”

You hesitantly wrapped your fingers around the leather straps and nearly jolted in surprise as Eris’s placed his calloused hands on top of yours. He started to maneuver your fingers. “You want to keep your thumbs on top and your fingers closed around them.”

Once he seemed satisfied, he tapped the horse on the side and she began her trot. You bit your lip as his hands slid off the reins and on to your thighs. “Relax your legs, bunny. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall off.”

You hadn’t realized how much you were squeezing the poor horse until he lightly stroked your thighs, getting them to loosen before his hands slid to your waist instead.

"What do I do with these?” You asked, nodding towards the reins in your hands.

“Nothing for now,” Eris answered. “You use them to steer or to get her to stop.”

His proximity to you and the tiny circles he absentmindedly rubbed on your waist with his thumbs caused your body to hyperfocus on all the places you were touching. You could hardly pay attention to his instructions and the more the two of you continued on, the more you found yourself relaxing into his chest—soaking in the heat that seemed to exude off his body.

Once you seemed to get the hang on the basics, a soft silence fell between the two of you. The sounds of the forest came alive the deeper you traveled into the trees. It was truly beautiful out here. The red and orange leaves on the trees reminded you of the painting Feyre had done on your drawer on the dresser back when you were living in the cottage.

“I’m sorry,” Eris whispered into your ear, breaking the silence and surprising you. “For yesterday.”

You softened at his words. “It’s okay.”

“No,” he said, his grip on your waist tightening. “It wasn’t okay. It pained me to hear you say I think of you as a nuisance, as something to get rid of. It is simply not true, bunny and I’m sorry for ever making you believe I think that.”

Eris didn’t seem like the type of male to apologize for his actions, so it meant more to hear it from him.

“I just wish you would stop trying to push me away. I’m tired of everyone always deciding what's best for me instead of trusting me to know it myself,” you sighed.

“I know and I’m sorry. I know how unseen you feel.”

He seemed to see right through you. Was it the mating bond that allowed such a thing? Or was it just something you had in common? No one had ever looked closely at you. You were the baby of the family, never allowed to be involved in decisions or important things. You lived in your own world most of the time.

Although Eris was brought up in a far different environment than you, you couldn’t help but think he felt the same way. That he was constricted and forced to play a role he had no wish to. That he was written off as arrogant and cruel simply because he was born under a male who was.

But he was nothing like his father.

“I know you do because I know you feel the same way, Eris,” you whispered, glancing back at him. “But I see you.”

“Perhaps that scares me.” His amber eyes were still guarded as he looked down at you. “No one has ever looked before. No one has ever wanted to.”

“I do,” you said, holding his gaze. “I want to.”

It was silent for a moment and you twisted back around, staring at the forest ahead.

“You shouldn’t,” Eris said, so quietly, that you were certain he was talking to himself. But despite his words, a tension had been lifted between the two of you.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

A little while later and after several whines about her legs starting to hurt, Eris let his mate have a break. He helped her off Marigold and found a tree to tie the horse to so the two of them could walk for a bit.

He kept a step behind her, watching as she spun in a circle, the leaves crunching beneath her boots, as she took in the forest. The wonder and excitement in her eyes caused a spark in his chest. Those things had long since been beaten out of him so it was nice to see them in someone he already cared so deeply about.

Eris enjoyed being out here with her, away from the Forest House and everyone else. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he kept his guard up to protect his wonderfully oblivious mate from any harm that might come her way.

“It’s so beautiful here,” his mate whispered.

The sunlight casted gold rays of light through the leaves, illuminating her beautiful face. She looked made for this kind of place, for Autumn. His chest ached at the sight—at what could be if his father wasn’t such a conniving bastard.

“It is,” Eris said softly, his amber eyes still trained on his mate. She peeked over her shoulder at him, blushing as she met his gaze. Gods, if he were a lesser male, he’d have shoved her up against a tree and claimed her as his already.

“Hey, I have an idea!”

“I’m sure you do,” he chuckled and she whirled around, placing her hands on her hips as she glared at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “Nothing. What is your idea, bunny?”

“We should play a game,” she said. “Like hide and seek.”

Eris snorted. “Hide and seek? What are we, children? I’m over five hundred years old, bunny, I’m not going to play games with you.”

“Fine, suit yourself,” she shrugged. “But I guess that means you’ll have to return to the Forest House without me unless of course…you find me.”

And then she darted off into the trees, weaving her way out of his view. He expected to find himself irritated, but it was the opposite. He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped from his mouth at how ridiculous his mate was. Ridiculous and brash—but so endearing.

“You can’t hide from me, bunny,” he shouted into the trees.

Silence met his ears and then…a twig snapped in the distance. He sauntered off in the direction of the noise. He would entertain her absurd game but he would not be running off like some wild beast through the forest. He followed her enticing scent of harvest apples and forest pine, twisting through the tall trees and leaf-covered ground.

He saw a flash of her hair from the corner of his eye and spun in place, listening for her footsteps. He continued following after her, getting small glimpses of her here and there, hearing the tiny giggles that seemed to echo in the silent forest and he realized that a small smile had grown on his face as the game went on.

Until things went so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. He froze, sniffing the air. He could still smell her but where had she gone? He spun in place, looking for footprints and listening for any sounds but…nothing. His heart started to beat faster in his chest, suddenly worried she had run off too far.

“Bunny,” he shouted. “You can come out now!”

Nothing.

The smile on his face dropped and he continued his search. Had she ran into some creature that took her? Had his guard fallen so low that he hadn’t realized that someone else was out here?

“Hey, bunny—fuck!”

Something ran straight into his back and wrapped their arms around his neck, making him stagger forward. He turned around and pinned them against the tree with a snarl so quickly he hadn’t even realized what exactly had knocked into him until he heard the familiar giggles and his mate’s scent washed over him.

“Got you!”

She was staring up at him with wide, excited eyes—her face flushed from her exertion. He stared at her in disbelief, uncertain how she was able to sneak up and ambush him like that. The hand that had wrapped itself around her throat moved to rest on the tree next to her head.

“And so the sly bunny ensnares the dumb fox,” she sang between her pants, her arms still around his neck, her back still pressed against the tree.

He let out a breath, staring down at her with a small glare. “That is not funny. I could’ve hurt you!”

“But you didn’t,” she countered, not seeming concerned about it at all. “I’m surprised I was able to sneak behind you. I thought for sure you saw me at one point. You looked right at me!”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I was standing right there,” she laughed, pointing at a spot to their left. “And you looked right at me! I thought I was busted but I don’t know, Eris, you might be going blind with age.”

Her eyes held amusement as she looked up at him but he was confused. He had no idea what she was talking about—he hadn’t seen her at all. She had not been standing there. She must’ve been mistaking those trees for another.

“Very funny,” he said, deadpanned.

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” she teased, her fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, absentmindedly. Her touch sent shivers down his spine. Her body pressed against his fought against the control he had.

He wanted to knock the smug smile right off her face. He stepped closer, placing his free hand on her sternum and trapping her against the tree. He felt her breath hitch and grinned.

“I’m not the loser,” he purred, before leaning down to whisper in her ear, “You’re still ensnared by me, bunny. Not the other way around.”

Being this close to her again reminded him of all the ways he would take her and he let out a heavy breath, trying to keep from getting hard and scaring her away. Her head was tilted back so she could stare at him, her smile slipping as her heart pounded loudly enough that he could hear it through her chest. It seemed to beat in rhythm was his.

He was certain she was going to cave first. His other hand still rested against the tree next to her head, allowing her the chance to dip away if she wanted. Her cheeks turned pink and he was sure she was about to start stuttering like a girlish maiden as she usually did when she said something that absolutely surprised him.

“Maybe I want to be ensnared by you, Eris,” she whispered.

Heat spread through his body like a wildfire and he knew it exuded off of him by the way she melted into his touch, her eyes flickering down to his lips as she shuddered. She bit her lip and he growled, his hand moving up her sternum until it rested against her cheek. He plucked her lip free with his thumb and she met his gaze again—her eyes wide and innocent yet full of desire. He could feel her anticipation down the mating bond, which glowed like firelight between them, and he knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

The mating bond sang in his chest.

Mine….Mine….Mine…

She glanced down at his lips again and the look she gave him was enough to snap the last string holding his composure.

So he surged forward and passionately kissed her.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

One second you were thinking of how much you wished Eris would kiss you and the next second he was. His lips were soft, softer than you imagined, and so warm. Your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed him back with the same fire and eagerness that had Eris groaning against your lips. The hand that was resting on your cheek moved to your neck and angled your head back farther so he could deepen the kiss.

One of your own hands slipped into his hair, tangling some red strands between your fingers as the butterflies in your stomach began their frenzy again. All thoughts seemed to cease at that moment. All you could feel was Eris’s body pressed against yours, his kiss so full of hunger that your knees almost buckled under the weight of it.

Your other hand slipped down to grab onto the collar of his tunic and yank him closer. He growled and bit down on your bottom lip; you gasped at the slight pain. He used that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and his kiss turned crazed.

Fire sparked under your skin, so hot it threatened to consume you.

His hand slipped down to your thigh, yanking your leg up around his hip so he could press in closer to you—nailing you to the tree. The rough bark rubbed against your back, serving as a contrast to the softness of his lips on yours.

He devoured you, kissed you in a way no one ever had before. You didn’t fight for dominance. Not when it felt this good to surrender yourself to him. Heat and wetness pooled in your core—the evidence of his own arousal pressed firmly against your stomach as his tongue continued to explore every crevice in your mouth, claiming it as his.

Every inch of your skin was tingling as he pulled away and began to trail feverish kisses down your jaw and neck—giving you the chance to breathe for a moment. You whimpered as his canines nipped at the sensitive skin on your throat, marking you.

“Do you know how much I think of this?” Eris groaned against your skin, his nose trailing up the column of your throat. “Of ravishing you like this.”

“Y-you do?” You stuttered as his canines grazed your neck again—reminding you again that Eris was no human man. No, he was much more than that of a man. He wasn’t even a full High Lord yet and still, you could feel his power crackling around you like burning embers.

“Oh, bunny,” Eris purred, pulling back to look at you with that fox-like grin that had your knees weak again. “I think of you like this—at my mercy—all the damn time.”

He leaned down and kissed you again until your face was flushed, your lips swollen and your neck was full of love bites. The both of you were panting as he rested his forehead against yours, his amber eyes staring down at you with flame licking his irises, full of hunger and lust and longing.

You knew at that moment that you belonged to Eris because there was no way anyone else on this earth would make you feel as you did now. And you didn’t want there to be anyone else. No, your heart and mind sang for him and him only. No matter how things turned out, you knew they always would. It was scary and thrilling and daunting but it was true.

And by the way he stared down at you, you knew he felt it too.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

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