#anyway I hope if you read this fic you also find yourself thinking about my extremely cringe ishin rarepair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cashmoneyyysstuff · 3 months

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HEAR ME OUT

“Don’t you think I’m scary?”

“Scary? My god you’re divine”

AHHHHH

FuskqosnisisbssbjHWISNSKSOAOAKWAJ 😭😭🤭🤭😋😋

I love two lovestruck idiots who don’t know they’re in love w each other and it’s grumpy German shepherd x golden retriever 😻😻

PLEAAASEE german shepherd x golden retriever is one of my faaavvv tropes OAT !! it’s so so adorable and especially with katsuki cus i know he just thinks he’s so scary ! i got a lil idea after the recent manga chap that just came out, so this might be a liiiiiittle super small spoiler but i think its so cute ! hope you enjoy anon tysm for the ask ! much luv xxx

fem reader, super duper minooor spoiler but katsuki has stitches !, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft katsu (cus he has to be but also cus he’s whipped) (but hes still a little piece of shit) reader is a lil sweetie, short lil fluffy fic, touchy katsuki bc i cannot help myself, lmk if i missed anything else !

before the war, bakugou had made a lot of new little habits.

he’s made it a habit of waiting for you to head out of class so you could walk together. he’s made it a habit of sharing just a portion of his lunch with you, because apparently he’s constantly been making too much, ignore the fact that he only let’s you have those ‘extra’s’ that doesn’t mean anything.

he’s made it a habit of carrying around an extra water bottle with him because you always forget to keep yourself hydrated after training, he’s also made it a habit to scold you for it endlessly. he’s ruthless even as you whine about how mean he is, saying that “he wouldn’t need to be on your ass so much if you just remembered to grab your damn bottle.” he ignores the fluffy feeling in his heart and tells you to shut up when you tell him that he always has your back anyway, swiftly looking away from you and cheeks turning red.

and since you're on the way to his house, he's made it a habit of walking you home. you call it hanging out after school, he calls it 'just making sure you don't get lost somehow..hah ?! don't ask me how ! your dumbass would probably find a way to !'

anyway, he's made it his mission to grace you with his presence every day after school. you always bid him a cheery goodbye, "see you tommorow !" you say, and he always looks forward to it, even when he turns away, nonchalantly throwing you a quick wave over his shoulder.

usually you wake up at completely different hours, so he doesn't pick you up the morning. you always wished you could see him first thing in the morning, but seeing him waiting by the school gate's was more than enough to make your heart soar, you were more than happy with that.

but today you can finally go back to school. after dealing with non stop fighting for what felt, and probably was, hours and hours on end during the events of the war. and being stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, it feels nice to wear your school uniform and feel somewhat normal again. you'd get to see all your friends again and you'd official be a second year. you smile softly to yourself in the mirror.

katsuki had sent you a text a few minutes ago. he'd asked if you were almost ready, and you'd responded that you were only for him to leave you on read. you didn't mind much and shrugged it off.

but today, when you walk out the door, you see katsuki waiting for you on the sidewalk.

you blink twice, eyes widening. katsuki turns and looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door he also blinks, although he's more unbothered then you as he simply stands up, pushing himself off his knees with a groan "took you long enough." he drawls. his eyes are warm and his lip twitch just the slightest bit at your expression "thought you'd keep me waiting forever."

"katsuki !" you exclaim, eyes still wide "what're you doing here ?!" you quickly walk to him, standing close enough to see the marks on his face, and the unmistakable stitches on his cheek.

he raises a brow like you're crazy, tilting his head "m'walking you to school."

"bwuh-are you even allowed to go to school ?" you sputter, realising he had his school uniform on, you liked it when he started making it a habit of wearing his tie more often. katsuki grumbles at your worries "shouldn't you be in the hospital ?" he scoffs at your fretting, but his eyes soften as he leans in closer to you. you see his battle scars better that way. you gulp at the sudden proximity, he's never been shy about getting in people's faces, although it was never meant to be intimidating when he did it with you, if the pink tint of his cheeks meant anything.

"doc said it's fine as long as i keep quiet.." he scoffs after finishing the sentence, rolling his eyes and causing you to giggle. hearing the sound he hadn't heard in what felt like ages made him sniff in amusement. you reach for his hand then, and he doesn't take his eyes off you while intertwining his fingers with yours. both your eyes shining with longing and affection for the other. you smile brightly at him and even though the doctors had told him to be careful with his heart, it seemed you were gonna make that hard for him. it didn't matter though, he was always up for a challenge.

pulling him along, you decide to tease him "guess that means you're gonna have to be on your best behaviour today, huh ? so you can't go gettin' mad at kaminari for no reason !" you playfully scold.

he rolls his eyes at the mention of your friend, though he doesn't hold back his smirk, he's definitely more open then he was compared to when you'd first started school. thinking about how far you've come together makes you happy, but it also feels bittersweet. "dunce face s'the who keeps pissin' me off, not my fault he can't handle it." you snicker and he snorts in amusement, squeezing your hand and making butterflies squirm around in your stomach. you don't mention the tight grip he has on your hand, probably because you're gripping his just as tight with no intention of letting go anytime soon. you probably look like a couple to the people walking by, you realise. and the thought does not displease you at all, far from it. it makes you a little too happy.

"behave." you squeeze his hand.

"i do." he growls, squeezing back, "he keeps trying me." you respond with a snort. your eyes occasionally fly towards his face, to the stitches on it more specifically. he's caught you looking multiple times on the way to the bus stop, not like you were exactly being subtle. your stare makes him nervous and he decides to finally confront you about it when you get to the bus stop.

"spit it out." he says, hands clammy in your grip, he hopes and prays you don't notice because it's so unbearably embarrassing to have to admit he was worried about what you'd think about his new look. he'd been anxious on your doorstep but you didn't give him much of a reaction, too shocked to even see him at the time, but your constant shifty glances made all the anxiety crawl back up again. so he speaks, keeping these distracting and frankly irritating thoughts to himself just irritated him.

you blink, humming curiously. katsuki grumbles to himself, keeping his eyes from yours. "ya keep staring at me, so what's up ?"

"it's strange seeing you with stitches." you answer bluntly. usually, he likes how honest you are, but right now it does nothing but stress him out. "i heard you messed your face up pretty bad, but i'm glad it didn't leave too much of a nasty scar." you muse. katsuki hums but his eyebrows furrow as he catches your last words, he's a little pissed off that you'd heard about what happened during the war. he'd wanted you to know as little as possible to keep from worrying you, or at the very least he'd wanted to tell you himself. he'll make sure to thoroughly question his fuckass friends later. of course, it also could've been her.

"..how'd you-"

"your mom told me."

he grunts. of course, it was his mom.

that damn hag..

"of course." he mutters bitterly. you don't respond, and to him that's all the answer he needs. a pit settles in his stomach.

"yeah, it's weird, isn't it ?" he agrees bitterly, unconsciously tightnening his grip on your hand. "it looks kinda creepy, right ?"

"what do you mean ?" his jaw tightens " i mean..like, on my face..." he sputter and mutters to himself, unable to properly say what he wants. you understand him though and immediately you turn till your face to face with him. your expression determined as you grab his other hand, both of his scarred hands now in your grip. his eyes widen in shock, embarrassment creeping up on him.

"there's nothing wrong with your face, katsu." you reassure, you'd made it a habit of calling him all those stupidly endearing nicknames, and it doesn't help taming the blush on his face slowly bleeding onto his cheeks. he pouts, fixing his gaze onto you and towards the floor.

"but doesn't it look..i dunno," he mutters, suddenly feeling self conscious "scary ?"

"scary ?" you tilt your head, he squints and looks away.

"i guess." he grunts with a nod, trying to save face. obviously it doesn't work by the look on yours. you're always so bubbly and sweet, he hates seeing such a pained expression on your face. you tug at his arms to get him to look at you "scary ? there's nothing scary about you.." you say sweetly, shaking your head. "i personally think you look really cool.." you mutter. katsuki feels his face heat, but his heart soars nonetheless. his eyes have been stuck wide for a second.

cool.

you think he looks cool.

"i was just wondering if they hurt ?" he tilts his head back in thought at that. instictively running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"nah, just felt weird when they were numbing it. but i didn't feel a thing." he shrugs, he suddenly smirks, the stitches being pulled up by the movement "wanna touch em ?" he teases, pulling you closer by the grip he still has on your hands. your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and he barks out a laugh.

"i-i can't do that ! what if i touch them and they come loose or something !" katsuki rolls his eyes at your jittering, using the hand still in his grip to bring it near his cheek, you desperately pull back and his evil smirk widens.

"katsuki, no !" you protest. he cackles meanly.

"it's fine." he insists, your pointer finger grazes his cheek and you turn your head away.

"i don't wanna !" you shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you hold back a giggle.

"yn. you're fine." he insists. he'd made it a habit of calling you by your first name after you'd started hanging out more. you called most of your friends by their first names pretty quickly into the year, your cheeriness making it easy for you to get along with everyone but you always were a little on guard with katsuki at first. he'll never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you'd call everyone in your shared friend group by their first name except for him. the sweet bubbly tone in your voice when you called for sero or kirishima made a nasty feeling bubble up in the pits of his stomach he'd desperately tried to push away. until one day he'd snapped during your group outing at the mall (outing he was coerced into going to by kirishima after finding out you where going too)

he'd regretted how whiney and bitter he sounded at the time, but he thinks it was worth it every time you'd look at him and say his name so sweetly, definitely worth it, as embarrassing as it was. and he'd started calling you by your first name too shortly after. all your friends do, but it felt so, so different with him.

finally your fingers make contact with the staples on his cheek. you peek up to look at him then. you run your fingers across them ever so softly, making sure not to hurt him. katsuki slowly let's go of your hand. unmoving and unnervingly still as you take your time scanning his face.

"so ?" he raises a brow, smirk slowly melting into a softer smile as he sees you smile to yourself.

"it's..not bad.." you tentatively start, still too worried to move too suddenly. he hums playfully. "and you don't feel it at all ?" you ask

"at all." he softly shakes his head. you don't realise you've gotten closer to his face but he sure has, and you end up realizing a little too late, but neither of you move away. you try to, but katsuki pulls you back in before you can get far. "do i still look cool up close ?" he jests, but there's some seriousness and vulnerability in his gaze. you smile warmly.

"yup," you say softly, you hear katsuki inhale sharpy, eyes never leaving yours "definitely still the coolest. not scary at all" you giggle, he rolls his eyes but chuckles. before you can question your positition or move away (or closer) to him you see the bus arriving in the distance. he notices it too and you share a look before you take a step back, smiling shyly at the floor while he keeps his gaze on the bus on the way.

until—

"OW, fuck !!"

your eyes snap up to see katsuki holding his cheek in his hand, your heart hammers and your eyes widen. you're next to him in two steps. "what, what—why-what happened ??!" you stammer, your hands reaching up to grab ahold of his face though you stutter, maybe it was your fault ?!

until—katsuki bursts out laughing. mean, but undeniably cute watery cackles that have you furrowing your brows in confusion until your jaw drops in realization.

the. asshole.

"you're not funny !" you whine, pushing at his arm although pushing might be the overstatement of the century. it could be more comparable to a nudge because even though he is an asshole, you wouldn't want to hurt him. even if he deserves it, you're better than that. you'll just think about hurting him.

katsuk chuckles breathelessly, grabbing your arm while you walk closer and stretch your arm out to signal the bus to stop. "it was funny, admit it !"

"you suck. you're the worst." scanning your bus ticket and walking ahead ignoring him, katsuki quickly scans his ticket and follows diligently behind you.

"you thought it was hilarious." he smirks.

"the absolute worst, the lowest of the low." you huff, ignoring the persistant heat of his eyes on you. he only snickers.

"i see you laughing."

today, you arrive to school with katsuki not at the school gates waiting for you, but walking together with you to start your new school year as second years. and you both hope you can make a habit out of this.

#thanks for the ask anon!#it was super fun to write and a fun way to come back from break !#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou drabble #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n

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dinogoofymutated · 1 month

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You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

Maybe not.

Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

“Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear?

oh.

Oh.

You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

First thing you do? Go to the store.

It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know?

So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is.

You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you.

You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

Holy shit.

Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him.

You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway, waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

“Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

“Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

“What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

“What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

“Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing.

“Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

“Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

“It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield.

“Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

“I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed.

“Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

“Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it.

“No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

“Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession.

“...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

“Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

“You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night.

He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

“...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

“Fuck”

You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

“Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed.

He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

“Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

“Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

“Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit.

“Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so.

“Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it.

“Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

“Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down.

You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

“Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

“...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

“Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream.

“Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

“I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

“Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right.

Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

“Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you.

“Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again.

You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

“Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter.

Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

“Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

“Tell you what?”

“That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

“Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

“You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

“You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

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enhafilthandfiction · 7 months

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ok hear me out (yall have a bet) imagine mutual masturbation with jake, but the one that cums first has to give the other a head.. regardless of the winner j@ke ends up eating you out

Dumb Games - Jake Sim

A/N : Hello everybodyy I. am. back. (after being dead for like 345 months). Anyways, just wanted to say that I missed you all sm! <3 I hope you are all doing well and ready to enjoy reading this fic! Anon tysm this is such a good idea oml esp with bff!Jake 🤭

Pairing : Bff!Roomie!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings : Kinda pervy and desperate Jake, mutual masturbation, oral (f.rec), dirty talk (bc cmon it's Jake), panty smelling (sry), some fingering and I think that's it :))

Word Count : 1,268 Words

Masterlist

It was a normal day for you, laying in bed, reading, scrolling through Pinterest, studying, until-

"Y/n? What is thisss?" your roommate's tone which echoed through the corridor told you he was up to some mischief. You lift your head up curiously as he stumbles into your room, your expression quickly changing when you notice what he's holding. "Jake!" you yelp, rolling out of bed to chase after him.

"I didn't know you owned a pink dildo" he lets out amazed, looking back at your tired figure which was still running after him. He giggles and escapes to the living room, settling on the couch as you follow.

"Oh and it vibrates too!" he exclaims in awe.

"Yeah, now give it back" you breathe, trying to catch your breath.

"Nah, come get it" he lifts his arms up and you scurry to get your personal object back, climbing on his sitting figure as you reach for it, but his arms were too damn long.

"Jake, please, just give it back" you sigh, giving up. You don't even realise you're pretty much straddling him in the position you're at until you feel his other hand on your arm.

"How about we make a deal?" he asks, a playful smirk on his face. "last person to make themselves cum wins"

You deadpan at him "Are you kidding?" you ask in a simple tone.

"Nope, and the loser has to finish the other off" he adds, looking at you hopefully. "Plus I'll give you this back so you can use it in the meantime" he shakes the pink object in his hands, flicking his brows up and down.

You've always kinda liked Jake, he was funny and unserious and just your type. But he was also the person you pretty much grew up with. You were scared to lose such a friendship so you never actually made a move. This was your chance.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance "Fine. You're gonna be the one cumming too quick anyways. We'll see how good you can give head." you shrug, giving him a pretty smile "Now give me my damn dildo back"

He laughs and places the plastic dick in your waiting hand, before looking up at you, smoothing his hands down your sides. You looked so pretty like this on him, he couldn't wait to see you pleasuring yourself.

You get off him too soon, finding your place at the other end of the big couch, spreading your legs as you snake a hands between them. "Fuck" he curses under his breath, his already-hardened cock twitching in his uncomfortable pants.

He also leans back on the opposite end of the couch, quickly untying the stings of his sweats and sliding them down impatiently along with his briefs. His cock springs out, the angry red tip already leaking precum.

You bite your lips at the sight of him, wondering how he'd feel inside you. One thing's for sure; that pink plastic dick wasn't half as good.

You get comfortable, rubbing your clit through you shorts. "Show me that pussy" he instructs, slowly stroking his shaft. You blush red, smiling at his impatience. Nevertheless, you lift your hips up and slide the shorts down along with your panties which you knew were soaked.

Jake didn't hesitate to grab the black material, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. You roll your eyes and sigh at his pervy behaviour. "Jakeee" you whine "That's dirty"

He doesn't seem to care, groaning at your smell and at the sight of you. "Fuck you're glistening" he points out, licking his lips as he speeds up his pace a little. #

You spread your juice around, circling your hole, closing your eyes at the tingling sensation. His lips almost start to draw blood at the way he's biting them, his hand going up and down his cock quicker.

He can't help the way his eyes are fixated on you, watching your expressions and your fingers touching yourself. He knows he's gonna lose the second you put a finger inside yourself, squeezing his base to calm himself down.

You open your eyes to stare at his, as if in a challenging manner, the sounds of your gushing juices fills the room, his curious eyes looking at where you finger yourself.

"Close Jakey?" you ask in a breathy voice which goes straight to his dick.

He breathes in "N-no" he lets out, his shaky voice betraying him. He can't help himself though. You want him to lose, adding another finger to your tight hole and moaning out loud.

He's done for when you purposely moan out his name, sending him into a frenzy, his eyes roll to the back of his head and before he knows it, his hands are drenched in cum.

You sigh at him "I didn't even get to use my dildo" you faux pout when he slowly opens his eyes, recovering from his orgasm.

"You won't need it" he mutters, getting off the couch and making his way to you. He grabs your thighs and positions you so that you're sitting comfortably on the couch. He doesn't waste a second to sink down on his knees, spreading your legs as he takes you in.

"So fucking hot" he whispers under his breath. He's been waiting to taste you for so long. Smelling your panties just made him more impatient. You nod at him when he looks up at you from between your legs and he dives in.

He flattens his tongue and licks up your folds in one go, immediately humming at your taste. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your hole before slightly prodding it in just to tease you. His licks his way up you clit, kitten-licking the little nub sending tingles up your spine.

"Fuck Jake" you breathe out, subconsciously grasping his hair between your fingers. You push his head deeper into you, encouraging him to suck at your clit. He hums at the little tugs on his hair, the pleasurable sting going to his dick.

He licks back to you hole, his nose bumping against your clit, making you whine out. You can't help but close your thighs around his head, engulfing him into you. He brings his hands up to your thighs, keeping them open before he brings one hand to your hole.

You feel like you're going to explode with his finger prodding at your hole and his tongue on your clit, the stimulation becoming too much. "Fuck, fuck r-right there" you moan out, pulling at his hair to ground yourself.

The way he hums against your folds doesn't help, your hips twitching at the feeling. He starts finger fucking you at a quicker pace, his mouth still working on your clit. All it takes is one last suck on your sensitive clit before your squeezing around his finger and tipping your head back in pleasure.

He eagerly licks up your essence before you push his head away due to overstimulation. You catch your breath as he sits up and settles on the couch next to you.

"Hate to admit it but that was one of your best ideas, Sim" you chuckle out, still in a haze.

"I never come up with bad ideas dumbass" he replies, also chilling back into the couch, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

"We should play this dumb game again sometime" you suggest, trying to place a hint.

"Damn you liked it that much didn't you?" he asked giggling

"It's always nice seeing you lose your own game"

Hi again, thankyou for reading to the end :D I hope you enjoyed it !! Have a good day/night and remember that ily! <333

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mariasont · 4 months

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Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right - A.H

a/n: my girl sabrina can do no wrong and i have been listening to this song on repeat since it came out so i just absolutely needed to write a fic about it

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events

warnings: angst (sorry in advance), aaron is like not a great husband, reader is also an imperfect character, reader is a girl boss though

wc: 1.2k

You were in your best dress. More expensive than you'd ever think about buying for yourself, but it had been a gift from Aaron. You had fought him on it, scolding him for spending so much on a dress you were sure to only wear once. But he had insisted, telling you that this opportunity was once in a lifetime and that it would be a sin for it to not be celebrated with a dress that made you shine like a ruby.

He was right, partly, you were shining--glowing, sparkling, glittering--as you moved through the library. It was beautiful, to say the least--all opulence and history that was almost too much to absorb. The marble floors almost seemed to amplify the conversations around you, the clinking of glasses, the swish of overpriced gowns and tuxedos.

Your eyes settled on the tiered desks fitted with bronze reading lamps, now repurposed as a station for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The circular arrangement of desks, once centered around knowledge, now facilitated hushed gossip and the discreet laughter of society's finest.

You could almost hear what they were thinking: there she is again without her husband, that poor thing always by herself, and your personal favorite—does he even exist?

You wanted to be angry, to scold their prying eyes, for putting their noses into something that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. But could you really blame them? Every event you attended you told the same story--my husband is a busy man with an important job--a line you had grown tired of repeating.

And that was all true. He devoted most of his time to saving lives--how could you find fault in that? How could you complain to having a husband whose very essence was self-sacrifice and heroism?

This evening was set to be an exception; he was in New York for a case, and the Pulitzer Prize ceremony was not something he would miss. He had given you his word.

You understood his passion for his job, completely, because you held that same passion for your own. You dedicated years of your life to your journalism, investigating corruption at its highest levels. This is exactly how you ended up here tonight, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for that very work. A Pulitzer Prize.

The term once seemed like a fantastical concept to you, a lofty accolade reserved for the likes of JFK, Bob Dylan, Robert Frost--icons, not someone as ordinary as you. Yet, against all odds, you find yourself among the select few, a nominee for an honor that has only been won by 1,512 individuals since 1917, a fact Spencer had supplied you with.

Someone was speaking to you, saying your name. Almost without thinking, your hand found a flute of champagne, taking a generous sip before turning to face them.

"You look stunning, and a well-deserved congratulations are in order. Everyone back at the office is cheering for you." It was your boss, her stilettos adding inches to her already imposing frame.

The flattery didn't quite mask her usual coldness, it was all too artificial. She wasn't your biggest fan, and she had made that clear from your first day. Still, you mustered a smile and thanked her anyway, taking another sip of champagne, hoping to drown away her nauseating voice.

"It's too bad your husband couldn't be here," she began, and you had to resist the urge to rip out her extensions. "This is an incredible accomplishment, but he's quite the busy man, as you say."

"Yes, he is busy, but he'll be here tonight," you replied, flashing her your best smile as you smoothed the red fabric that suddenly felt too tight. "He's actually here in New York on a case."

"Oh, how great. I can't wait to put a face to the name." You could tell by the look she shot her own husband that she didn't believe a word from your mouth. "Anyway, I have to go speak with an academy representative, but I'll see you and your husband at the ceremony?"

You responded with a nod, not dignifying her with words as she left, her giggles a bitter sound. You hated her. And you were ready to make her eat her words when your husband, who looked absolutely incredibly in a suit, showed up.

But then it was dinner, and you found yourself alone, surrounded by a table of important people whose names you couldn't remember. The seat beside you was empty and suddenly that omnipotent, cloud-nine feeling you had vanished with the time that passed.

The text you sent piled up, feeling a little juvenile, like you were back in high school again getting stood up at prom.

Let me know when you're close!

Is everything going okay?

Call me if you can.

An onslaught of anxious thoughts skyrocketed around your mind as you mechanically chewed the fancy food that only seemed to upset your stomach further. What if something happened? Was he okay? Did the case go wrong? Did he get in a car accident on the way here?

You were a bundle of nerves, gnawing on the inside of your mouth as your heel tapped up and down against the floor. But this wasn't borne from concern for his well-being; deep down, you were certain he was fine. The truth was simpler and sharper: he wasn't coming.

You should have been prepared, should have braced for this, but you were convinced that this time, this occasion would be an exception.

You name was being called, but this time not by someone wanting to extract prying information or stir speculation, no, this time it was carried across the crowed, wrapped in the microphone's static hum.

Your head snapped up, fingers ceasing their fidgeting as you struggled to mask the shock and avoid the gaping, breathless look of a fish out of water.

You had won.

People were clapped, but it seemed far away as you made your way to the stage, hands coming from all directions to offer pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations.

You had won.

Your feet were carrying you up a small set of stairs. You were trying to remember how to walk--left, right, heel, toe. There was a bright light on you now, prompting a slight squint and you worked to keep a smile on your face as you accepted the award.

You had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

You were on display now, under the intense stage lights. Your body was on autopilot, stepping behind the podium, words flowing out of your mouth--a speech you had rehearsed over and over again in the slim chance that you would win. And here you are.

But the more you spoke the more you seemed to deviate from the script.

You paused, voice catching as you tried your best not to let the tears fall--your makeup was too pristine for smears.

"But tonight, as I accept this honor, I am reminded that while we may seek comfort in the presence of others, our truest strength comes from within." Your eyes dart around the audience, clinging to the slim chance he's there, that he showed up. "It comes from knowing that when we step into the moment, we step in with conviction, with passion, and sometimes, with a singularity that says we are enough."

The final words of your speech hang in the air, a brittle hope that disappears as quickly as it surfaced. He proved them right, and no amount of applause can drown out the sound of your heart breaking just a little.

part 2

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179

#aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotchner #Spotify

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wintrwinchestr · 1 month

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strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face.

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door.

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here.

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit.

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat.

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again.

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like.

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression.

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug.

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you.

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full.

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.”

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial.

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing.

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today.

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits.

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother.

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down.

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why.

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night.

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened.

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples.

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items.

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?”

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of.

“Okay,” you agree excitedly.

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay.

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you.

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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wntrswolf · 3 months

Text

love mirage

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!secret-lover-betrothed-to-a-bracken

✧ theme/warning(s): slight/implied smut, angst, forbidden romance, star-crossed lovers. — (all characters mentioned are of age!) 18+

✧ word count: 1.8k

✧ author's note: hello! this is my first writing! this one-shot was spontaneously written as it was meant more for self-indulgence but i thought why not share it to others who also has a current obsession with the rising blackwood character, right? :-) anyways, reading fics under the benji tags manifested many scenarios in my head, and gave me inspiration to write something. lastly, forgive me for any possible grammatical errors, i still am an amateur in fictional writing. enjoy!!!

It was the dead of night. The sky had been painted in its darkest hue, the moon stood nearly at its peak, offering its gentle glow along the riverbank. The distant chatter that could be heard during a long day's labor was no longer present, replaced by the solemn silence of nature's symphonies—the flowing river, the rustling of leaves as they danced in breaths of wind, and the lullabies of insects as they clicked and buzzed.

The forest was no stranger to you; befriending the woodland for the passing moons. You often wondered if anyone would, or had, grown an inkling of your periodic disappearance following the hours of supper—what others would think of your father’s only daughter growing a rather sudden interest beyond the walls of your family's stronghold. You always made your way out stealthily, though his words echoed in your mind,

“You are our only hope, daughter. Do not fail us.” A stark reminder of your duty, which would soon bring honor to your family's name.

If it means anything, you knew it was wrong from the start. You had never intended anything as such to happen. For the name of a nobleman was bound to yours, yet your lips would chant whispers of another.

Time became irrelevant right before you met him on this cool summer night. There the young man stood, one hand steady on the hilt of his dagger, ever vigilant should danger lurk in the tranquil embrace of the silent woods; his tense body relaxing upon the sight of your cloaked figure before him—a beacon of familiarity. You had planned to tell him about your betrothal tonight.

Although it was not much longer that you would find yourself a whimpering mess under the Blackwood boy. Your sighs mingled with the saccharine words Benjicot spoke, adding harmonies of moans and gasps of pleasure in the serenity of the haven you both made. You often feared getting caught but Benji assured you in these remote lands, he doubted anyone would be near enough to witness anything— not even the treacherous act you both selfishly indulged in. You still pray to the Gods that they grant you both the favor that no eye spies this clandestine meeting; and the many before.

You never really questioned yourself on why you couldn't confide in your father about your betrothal; had you already envisioned the conversation—mayhem would ensue. It was simple, it was the decision he made—securing your family's position through a marriage pact, a political alliance they called it. Duty, you thought yet again.

You didn't know what, or whom, to shift the blame on—or maybe it was the complexities of guilt. your guilt. You knew the inevitable, yet your selfishness, your greed, your immature desire for love; tainting your rationale. Or that maybe you should feel resentment that your father and the Lord of Stone Hedge, Humfrey Bracken regarded their relationship as close as to being kin. Maybe then you would have the strength to ignore your obligations, this once.

You cursed yourself for thinking the way you did, and you cursed the Gods for the decades-old rivarly between the ancient houses—a hatred and feud born long before either of you were born; beyond your father's time, and his father's before him, yet its roots grew, multiplying the petty divide among those that followed after them.

It made you question what started the war between the two in the first place, as sin begets sin begets sin; however, unwavering was the tryst between you and Benjicot—untouched by the strife and grudges.

He knew. You were aware of his knowledge with the woven webs you had with the Brackens; about your father's bond with the red stallion lord. Your thoughts do not come to a plausible explanation as they endlessly spun in your mind.

And all it took was Benjicot's hips to lower into yours, silencing these whirling thoughts.

Your cloak drapes over you, offering its warmth from the breaths of wind, coming from the riverbank. It spared the watchful eyes of the forest spirits from your unneeded bareness. At your side, Benjicot lays as he adjusts his breeches.

“There’s a war soon to come,” he says as he stares at the sky, hands behind his head, ”And I ought for you to know that given the growing wars, you have not left my mind since.” he nervously confessed.

You hum in response, the weight of his words settling heavily in the quiet of the forest. "I fear what lies ahead, Ben" you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur, filled with both longing and apprehension.

He turns to you then, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that spoke of unspoken promises and uncertainties. "No matter what comes, my love for you will endure." he vows, his fingers gently tracing the contour of your cheek.

You turn your head and sit up, feeling around for your discarded garments to dress.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, sitting up, his expression betraying confusion at your abrupt reaction.

"No, it's not that." you breathed out, your back faced to him. It was this very moment you had feared since the first: the inevitable.

"Well, did you not finish as I had?" he ventured in jest, a playful side of him that you loved. "Or is it because I professed my love for you?", hoping his declaration had not caused you to pull away. "Trust me, I will make sure there's nothing—"

"My betrothal..." you did not let him finish, "it's to Aeron Bracken." you said, still facing away from him as you rose from the ground. You picked on your fingers picked in nervousness of his next response. The weight of your confession hung heavy in the air.

At first he thought he had not heard you clearly, as if the world had gotten awfully quiet. It was when you repeated once more, realizing his ears did not fail him as his blood got hot—of you saying the name whom ignited an unexplainable fury in him.

"Aeron Bracken," Benjicot repeated in disbelief of your sudden confession, "The Bracken twat, eh?" — the very same Bracken he encountered in fresh conflict, near the mill's boundary stones. Although he did not show it, the tension in the air was strong enough to burn and linger its flames; his knuckles turning pale as he clenched his fists at his side.

"A craven false king follower... is bound to your name, to you." he chuckles incredulously.

He paced in the clearing, his footsteps heavy as he turned to you. "And what are you to do about it?" He posed the question, pain plain upon his face, though hope bled through the mask of his composure. Deep down, he already knew the answer. He could scare tell if asking you such question was to self-inflict torment, or just a desperate need to face the harsh reality of your confession— not a difference between the two really.

You finally turned to meet his gaze, "It's my father's decision," you explained softly. "I... I cannot defy it." You stood before him, as your tears glisten in the faint light. Torn between love and duty.

"Ben," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "You know the stakes. It’s my duty. My family's honor—”

"Fuck honor!" he interrupted, his voice thundering through the forest. He strides towards you, "It was long gone the very moment we first met—" he huffed out. He knew in his heart that despite the love he developed towards you, the tangled web of your kinship with the Brackens would soon unravel the bond you shared— still, he gambled with the odds, just as you had.

He had ever hoped that the old Gods would bestow the blessing of his fervent wishes—that it would be you, not some other maiden, whom he would take to wife. He often dreamed of you bearing the heirs of his house, growing gray together, and watch as your blood flow through the veins that would carry on his legacy. Yet, it was only ever a distant dream.

You reached out to him, to calm the storm raging within him, but he jerked away. "Tell me, then," he challenged, stepping closer with fire in his eyes. "Where do your loyalties lie, beyond this," he motioned between the two of you. "Are you suggesting that your father, and even yourself, are to declare for the usurper cunt of a King?" he whisper-yells to you. “Or is this some sort of arrangement with those Bracken fucks, to get back at us Blackwoods, simply just using me as a pawn, 'cus you know I'm now Lord?" His words spitting at you like venom;

“Oh, you know where my loyalties lie," you spat, your voice filled with heartache, "But I won't stand for you questioning my integrity nor my family's honor to secure a future." You glared at him as your heart stung with hurt, "And to accuse me... I would not dare to commit something so heinous even if i could; I'm not cruel, Benji."

Benjicot's jaw clenched, shaking his head as he stood facing the river, incomprehensible words muttered under his breath.

"I never asked for this," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "But I have responsibilities. We both do." you sniffled, swallowing the tension of your throat away, "And I know you know..." you wiped your tears, "we know... that this was bound to occur, sooner or later, Ben." your voice was barely audible, even with the deafening silence the forest came to be. "There's a war coming."

The silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and the weight of impossible choices.

Benjicot stood before you, his expression torn between love and anguish. His hands trembled as he gathered his scattered belongings, his movements reflecting the turmoil in his heart. You mirrored his actions, silently picking the remnants of what you felt is to be your last fleeting moment of happiness.

"I swear it," he finally spoke, "would that we were not bound by the enmity between our folks, I would have already vowed myself to you. Long before your father would have you promised to another."

His words pierced your heart with longing and regret, the bitter truth of your circumstances hanging between you like a veil of sorrow. “And I would have gladly accepted it,” you replied with a heavy sigh. "—my Lord."

The Blackwood male nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. With a heavy heart, you both silently acknowledged the futility of your love.

Benjicot turned away first. The distance between you both grew; and his silhouette became one with the dark forest.

You knew that somewhere, amidst the pain and heartache, you would find a way to carry on—a life of uncertainty but fraught with duty. As you walked away from the happiness and love that the forest had given you, the ache in your chest spoke of a love that was lost but will never be forgotten. It would be a bittersweet reminder of what once was, and what could never be again.

#hotd x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #bloody ben #davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #forbidden romance #star crossed lovers #hotd angst #i love me some angst #mmm mmm mmmmmmmm #i hope you guys like itttt!!!#kieran burton fancast #hotd fanfic #hotd

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lilahisntsadanymore · 9 months

Text

Blood status seems to become less important when you acknowledge the actual feeling of love. What will Theo do when Y/n comes to the terms with the differences between them being impossible to ignore?

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Author's note: My apologies for keeping you waiting so long, but I finally got some time off at uni!! Wishing you all a good year!!

Kind of a 2nd part of this fic, but you can read it without the previous one

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Keep you safe

One evening, Theo was waiting in the library. Waiting for a person he never expected to talk to. Y/n Granger. He found himself feeling a bit nervous, even though there was no reason.

Thinking about Y/n made him feel something. A feeling he never felt before. Slughorn said it's love, the muggle kind of love, the purest form, not induced by anything supernatural.

Theo decided to read about it. Hoping to find some book about it, he asked the librarian. She gave him a book specifically about love potions and spells. One of the first chapters was just what Theo was looking for.

"How to tell the difference between love and infatuation caused by magic." He whispered the first sentence to himself.

He started reading, his mind realizing what he got himself into as his gaze brushed over the text. Well, technically it wasn't his own fault and apparently also not the girl's fault.

But there must've been a reason. If love was a part of biology, brain chemistry, there had to be some logical factor.

"What are you reading?"

When Theo heard Y/n's voice right next to him, he immediately closed the book, causing it to make a loud sound.

"You took such a long time I got bored." He replied.

"Don't be so shy," the girl shifted her eyes to the title of the book, "oh, love potions and spells? But we're doing something completely different."

"Really? I couldn't care less, forgot what we were supposed to do." Surely one thing he'd love to do was making out with her on that table.

Y/n put her homework on the table.

"Read it and tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, I just-"

"What's wrong with my text, Nott. I didn't ask how you were doing."

"Right."

Theo took the papers and started reading. The text was written with the most beautiful handwriting he's ever seen. So elegant, so precise.

"How long did it take you to write?" He asked.

"One evening. It was easier than you'd think."

"I think it's extremely easy." He bragged. "Anyway, is that all? Or do you wanna add something?"

"Well, Slughorn thought it's necessary for you to help me. Is there anything you think should be added?"

"Uh, no, it looks fine," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Fine? Theodore Nott, the perfectionist Slytherin, settles for 'fine'? I expected more from you."

"Look, it's not my homework, it's yours. I don't know why I agreed to help you, but it was pointless."

"You got yourself into this, could've said no."

"What the fuck am I even doing?" Theo asked rather himself than the girl. "I don't need to be helping a mudblood, who cares what grade you'll get." With these words, he stood up.

"Because-" Y/n stuttered. "Because... I've heard your conversation with Slughorn. And you said... that you liked me."

"Me? Liking you?" He snorted with laughter. "What the hell, Granger?"

Tears formed in Y/n's eyes as she watched Theo walk away. Sure, he was mean to her before, this wasn't the first time. But this time was somehow different.

Y/n could swear she heard Theo confessing to Slughorn that he's actually in love with her. It's not possible her brain played tricks on her. Plus Hermione said Theo told her about his feelings for Y/n.

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Harry walked onto the astronomy tower. Y/n was supposed to be back a long time ago. Ron and Hermione also wanted to go there, but Harry asked to let him go alone.

Harry knew where Y/n was thanks to the Map. He felt such relief not seeing Nott's name next to hers. She was standing alone, leaning on the banister. There was something in her hand, Harry couldn't see well in the dark, but from the smell he realized it was a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoke." He spoke.

Y/n expected this to happen, she was aware of Harry's feelings towards her. She took one last drag from her cigarette then dropped it on the ground, put it out with her shoe and kicked off the tower.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Y/n asked, smoke leaving through her mouth. "I knew you're gonna look at your silly little map to see where I am."

"We were starting to get worried. Theo is... you know, dangerous. We got scared he would hurt you."

And he did. Theo did hurt Y/n, just not physically.

"Hermione should be here instead. But, let me guess, you told her you'll check up on me."

"Maybe," Harry admitted finally, "do you know why? Because I actually care about you. I've had feelings for you for years. I deserve you, not Nott. I deserve you, because-"

"Because you're the chosen one?" She mocked and paused. "Look, Harry, I like you as a friend. I've never felt anything more than this. I can't change how I see you and I won't pretend otherwise."

He nodded, acceptance settling in. "I get it. I just... I thought if I cared enough, it would make a difference."

"Caring is important, Harry, but it doesn't always lead to the feelings we hope for."

"Whoever you date, just don't date Nott, please."

"I promise I won't. Not after today, I'm over him."

"Care to share what happened?"

"I'll tell you, Hermione and Ron in the common room. Let's go, I've been here too long."

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Y/n didn't even know how wrong she was that night on the astronomy tower, but she forgot about it. Weeks went by, Christmas had passed, everyone were back from the break. Classes started again and Y/n found herself hoping to catch a glimpse of Theo.

They kept exchanging glances on the corridors, accidentally bumping into each other in the crowds. Y/n wanted to believe Theo liked her, but even if he did, they could never work.

"Y/n, listen to me," he said, catching her when she was alone in the library one time. "I know how things have been between us, but during the break I... I realized I don't wanna keep being enemies."

"Theo, you know it could never work. You said what you said and maybe it's better to leave it this way."

"I contemplated a lot," it was true, he spent the break mostly in his room, drowning in thoughts. About her, about them, coming to terms with what he was feeling. "I decided to accept my feelings."

"That's great for you, but we could never work. I've always 'fancied' you, I guess, despite what you were doing, ironically, but the time we worked on my project together, I accepted we could never work."

"And why's that?"

Y/n took a deep breath, wondering if he was stupid or just pretending. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone. Maybe Draco dared him to do this.

"You don't see how different we are? What do you expect is gonna happen? Would you introduce me to your father? Wouldn't you care that I'd get you disowned?"

Theo looked at her, Y/n could see sadness in his eyes. She realized her words made him realize the differences between them, because he walked away. Theo walked away without a word.

Y/n pierced her own heart with an invisible knife. She was really hoping they could work, but it just wasn't possible in this universe. Maybe there was a universe where none of this purity bullshit didn't exist. Y/n wished she would've been born there.

Y/n couldn't predict what Theo was going to do. She thought her words made him give up on her. It was for the best, of course, she should've focused on her studies firstly, and then on a realistic relationship.

It was a Friday. Y/n was sitting next to Ginny by the Gryffindor table. It was dinner time, all the students gathered in the Great Hall. All the students besides one Slytherin, the one that Y/n hoped to see. Maybe it was weird, but she enjoyed the sad looks they'd pass to each other.

"Hey, Y/n, are you listening?" Hermione asked from across the table.

"Sure," Y/n quickly shifted her eyes to her sister. "You were talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"You've got divided attention. Stop looking at the Slytherin table."

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, "were you doing this again? Merlin, you stare at this Slytherin git 90% of the time."

"Well, he isn't here today. I wonder where he could be. Everyone else is here."

"There he is," Ron pointed out, rolling his eyes.

The golden trio and two younger Gryffindors looked at the doors' direction. Theo had just walked into the Great Hall, but surprisingly he didn't walk towards his table. He walked towards Y/n.

"Y/n," he spoke, catching everyone's attention. People were reading to witness another argument. "I can't help this, I love you."

Shocked noises came from all the tables, but Slytherins kept whispering between each other also when Theo continued talking.

"I don't care what anyone says, anyone thinks. Love is not meant to be controlled, it kills me to fight it."

Y/n stood up from the table, ready to leave the room.

"Theo, stop," she begged, "you're embarrassing us both. Your friends will-"

"I don't care what they do. If they don't accept it, they're not my friends. If anyone wants to fight me for having feelings for a muggleborn, I can fight, I've never lost a duel."

The whole Great Hall fell silent, even the teachers didn't try to intervene, when they saw Theo pulling out a small, black velvet box.

"I want you to wear this ring," he opened the box, "as my promise to always protect you from whoever tries to harm you or our relationship."

"It's beautiful, but..." Y/n was speechless by the sight of the ring. It was silver with two gemstones forming a subtle heart - half emerald and half ruby.

"It was custom made and if you accept it, I'll once get you a matching engagement ring. Also, there are thorns which will hurt you when you try taking it off. I want you forever, Y/n Granger."

The ring in the black velvet box sparkled under the enchanted ceiling. The Great Hall remained in silence as Theo poured his heart out, confessing his love. The unexpected turn of events had everyone on edge.

Slytherins exchanged intrigued glances, Gryffindors shared confused looks and even the teachers seemed to not know how to react. Y/n could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on her, and for a moment, she considered the potential consequences of accepting Theo's proposal.

"Theo," she began, her voice breaking, "it's not that simple."

"I know it is. But I can't keep hiding my feelings, Y/n. I've tried, and it's tearing me apart. I'll protect you from whatever comes our way."

Y/n looked at the ring, then back at him. "I believe in second chances. And I appreciate your sincerity. I accept the ring, Theo."

Theo carefully took the ring from the box and gently slid it onto Y/n's finger. The Great Hall burst with cheering and applause, only the Slytherin table didn't seem so enthusiastic about this.

Theo placed his hands on Y/n's waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn't hesitate to kiss him back, her hands sinking in his dense her yet the ring on her finger still visible, reflecting the light from the ceiling.

#Theo Nott #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #theo nott fanfic #Lorenzo Zurzolo

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 5 months

Note

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

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jqyszn · 1 year

Text

Like what you see?💤

paring: dom!bestfriend!sunghoon x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, friends to lovers (mdni !!)

summary: in which you come home to find your best friend getting off, weird but it's natural right? not until you heard him calling out for you.

warnings: smut ofc, masturbating, unprotected sex (don’t be a prick, wrap your dick!!) , panty stealing… riding, body worship, fingering, biting, degradation, spitting, marking, squirting, profanity, dirty talk, pet names (slut, cum dump, princess), breeding kink, sunghoon is a perv,, this is honestly just pure filth too😭 (Imk if i missed anything!!)

wc: 1.5k (1,597)

a/n: this is my first fic (😭) i apologize in advance for the cringe wattpad like writing,, also english isn’t my first language so please ignore any grammar mistakes <3 i hope u guys enjoy and im so sorry for the wait like i don’t know why it took me like three weeks to make a 1.5k fic😭😭😭 i promise for my other works they will be more hastily written🩷🩷

taglist: @lelelelelelenim @iamkali @jjonghoonist @ramenoil @deobitifull @velathaheigeros @enhaz1 @thinaswreck @heeseungsslutt @cherriruto @yohanabanana @hvnyujiq @fightqueen @parkhonnie (some of the tags aren’t working so i’m so deeply sorry for everyone who asked and isn’t here </3)

“can i come over?” you read the writing on your phone as you best friend sunghoon messaged you. “yea, sure :) i’m still at work though but you have the extra key anyway.” you replied to him putting down your phone and typing away at your computer. your phone buzzes once again but desperate to rest, you ignore it and continue working.

on the other hand, sunghoon is at your door in a heartbeat. he unlocks the door with ease, walking in, the smell of you instantly hitting him. he inhaled your lingering scent as he closes his eyes imagining him nuzzling into your neck, pounding into you, taking in the smell of your natural perfume. “fuck.” sunghoon groans as his cock starts to feel heavy.

he makes his way towards your room, your scent growing more intense as he groans internally. “what are you doing to me y/n?” he thinks about his morals for a minute before diving into your laundry basket, picking up a used lace thong. he curses at himself but he doesn’t stop. instead he goes on your bed and propped himself up nice and pretty.

he holds your panty in his left hand bringing it closer to his face as he takes a fat whiff of you as he threw his head back. his other hand starts palming his refined boner as he continues sniffing at your undergarment. he pulls down his sweats down to his knees along with his boxers, freeing his hardened member. “oh god..” he grunts as he drapes your thong over his leaking, pink tip. staining it with his glossy precum.

unbeknownst to him, you’re already back home taking off you heels. “hoon?” you call out neatly tucking away your shoes as you make your way to your room. “fuck yes y/n, you’re taking my cock in so good~” did you hear that right? you stopped in your tracks thinking there must be someone else in your room. scared, you peep your head in your doorway, looking ahead into your room.

and to your surprise, it’s sunghoon. pumping his cock furiously, his eyebrows furrowed, lip bitten, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and your thong over his length. fuck he looked so hot. you always had a thing for sunghoon but not wanting to ruin your friendship, you kept it to yourself and your trusted diary. you can’t help but clamp your legs together, almost moaning at the sight.

you decided to test your faith, so you walked over infront of your bed. “shit y/n! your pussy is so fucking tight princess!” sunghoon whimpers out, he opens his eyes only to see you. standing infront of him, arms crossed and face flushed with a crimson tone. “like what you see doll?” sunghoon smirks not showing one bit of embarrassment. instead, a sense of pride.

“i.. uhm..” you stutter shocked by the lack of embarrassment he showed on his face. “you love it huh? watching your best friend fuck himself with your skimpy thong? huh? look at you. i bet you’re all soaking wet from watching me pump my cock for you isn’t that right, slut?” he whispered, walked over to you, leaning down into your ear moaning playfully as he nibble on your earlobe.

“ahh.. hoon..” you whimper at his words, his hands trailing up and down your body stopping where you wanted him the most. “shit. no panties? do you really are just a slutty whore aren’t you? practically begging any man to cream your pussy right? you better fucking stop. because this tight, wet, creamy cunt is all mine. understood?” he degrades as he slaps your warmth, making you jerk forward as you nod your head in response.

“use your words doll. you know i hate stupid little whores.” he orders rubbing circles into your clit making you moan and clinging onto sunghoon’s broad shoulders. “you’re gonna let me breed your sopping pussy yeah? fill you up with my babies to show everyone who you belong to right?” he mutters over your neck, sucking and biting marks all over your neck. “yes hoon.. i’m all yours.” you finally managed to moan out.

“good girl.. now come here.” sunghoon ordered as he picked you up effortlessly, slamming you down on his lap earning a yelp from you. “may i?” he asks for your consent before stripping you to which you consented. “oh fuck doll, you’re gorgeous.” sunghoon admires your soft skin, rolling his fingers over your nipples licking his lips. “feels good hoon~” you whine out bucking your hips into his. “i know pretty girl..” he coos a finger teasing at your wet hole, him waiting for a reaction.

“hoon please.. i want you.” you whimper grinding on his fingers as he smiles in satisfaction. “beg for it then. tell me how much you want me to fuck you dumb.” he grins looking down at you and watching your face contort from the feeling of his long and slender fingers sliding into your core. “i want you to fuck me until i can’t walk anymore.. i need your cum in me hoon. i need it so so bad!” you squeal at the sensation of his fingers going in and out of my sopping cunt. wet, gushing sounds reverberating around the room. “good girl..” he grunts, speeding up his pace.

you feel a familiar knot in your abdomen, panting uncontrollably as you arch your back, “fuck hoon i’m close..!” you whimper, him smirking back at your call as he continues to finger you in the ‘come here’ motion. “cum for me then slut.” he commands as you release on his fingers. the sight was so dirty, your squirt soaking his fingers and your sheets, his mouth sucking your juices off you and you arching your back, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape.

“fuck,, you’re such a slut huh?” he teases, pulling his digits out of you and shoves them in your mouth. “now suck.” he commands, to which you obey. swirling your tongue around his fingers coating them in your saliva. his cock twitches at the sight, sunghoon wanted to absolute ruin you.

sunghoon sat comfortably on the bed patting his bare thighs, “come here.” he commanded, smirking at you. “what are you waiting for? is it because i’m not heeseung?” he gritted his teeth, the flashback of you giving heeseung a lap dance engraved in his mind wishing it was him you were grinding all up on. “no.. it’s not that” you mutter out quietly, crawling to sunghoon straddling him.

“what is it then? hm?” he caressed your thighs softly, looking at you expectantly. “it’s just.. i’ve been waiting for this since we became friends hoon..” you ground your hips down on his throbbing length, smiling at him softly. His eyes darkened at your words as he tightened his grip on your hips, pushing you down onto his lap roughly, feeling your wet pussy sliding along his engorged cock. "oh is that so? enjoying yourself aren’t you?" he smirked at you once again.

He grabs you by the hair and pulls your face close to his, thrusting his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with a deep passion as his cock twitches against your slick hot cunt. you kiss him back passionately moaning into the kiss. “trust me doll, you’re gonna forget who heeseung even is after i fuck you dumb.” he growls as he grabbed onto your hips pulling you towards himself forcefully slamming his cock deep inside your tiny hole stretching it wide "fuck... yes.... fuck..!" he grunts.

“you’re so fucking big hoon~!” you whine out watching him slowly thrust in and out of you. “i know doll, i know.” he replies cockily while grunts he slams himself against you harder, grabbing your breasts roughly and squeezing them, feeling your nipples get rock hard under his fingers as he continued to slam into you, using you like a toy as he pounded you relentlessly. you moan his name like a mantra, completely fucked out.

“yeah that’s it. moan my name like a whore. you’re all mine understand?” he glared at you waiting for your answer. “yes hoon! i’m all yours!” you pant out, bouncing up and down on his girthy cock, your cunt convulsing around his length. he smirked proudly, thrusting himself deeper inside you until he was buried completely within you. "that's right, doll. cum all over my fucking dick." He whispered huskily, grabbing onto your hips tightly as he began pounding away at you mercilessly, driving you crazy with desire.

“shit hoon i’m cumming!” you scream, feeling yourself come undone. a thick, creamy gloss ring coats the base of his dick, dripping down onto his thighs. “can i cum in you doll?” he asks for permission as you nod your head, “yes yes yes! cum in me sunghoon! i want your load in me so bad!” you beg, your body shaking from the stimulation your yet receiving.

“so fucking good, all wet and creamy all just for me.” he grunts as he finally shoots his milky, thick load inside of you. guiding your hips as he rides out his high. he pulls out of you, you whining at the emptiness. “look. watch my seed drip out of you.” he orders as you watch his gooey cum trickle from your well fucked hole down onto the sheets.

“are you gonna give me aftercare or are you gonna be a dickhead?” you cocked an eyebrow

“only if you be mine forever.” he smirked jokingly, getting towels to clean you off.

“i’ve always been yours.”

#enhypen #enhypen smut #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #park sunghoon smut #smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon fic #kpop smut

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folkwhoredoll · 6 months

Text

library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

#drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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sanemistar · 9 days

Note

hii (ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

i see that your reqs are open again! if you can, can you do a fic where geto has been hiding his feelings yn for a while and he while hes alone w her, he cant hold it in anymore

smth like one day all of the friends r busy ( gojo, nanami, & shoko ) and only geto and yn r free at the moment and geto comes over to her shared apartment with that yn and shoko share nd he finds her doing skin care and self care things so he joins in, and when hes alone w her his butterflies in his stomach are going crazy and so is his heart, and as shes applying his face mask, close face to face, hes gazing at her in the eyes and he cant seem to hold back his feelings anymore, so he pushes her back, holding her arms, ears red and just admits everything.

hope this isnt too much !♡︎

can’t hold back | suguru geto

୨୧ pairing: suguru x fem!reader

୨୧ genre: fluff

୨୧ wc: 0.8k+

୨୧ warning: suguru may be a bit ooc

୨୧ a/n: lovesick suguru is definitely something omg !! i hope you enjoy reading <3

it’s your day off after a long week of work, so you plan to hang out with your best friends because you haven’t seen them in a while due to your busy schedule. you text them in your group chat, but they all say they’re busy except for suguru, who happens to have some free time and is nearby. you ask him privately to come over and hang out with you at your shared apartment with shoko to keep you company while she’s out, to which he agrees.

you decide to do some skincare while you’re waiting for suguru to come over, so you put on your favorite mask and play some soft music. a little while later you hear a loud ring coming from your front door, signaling suguru’s arrival. you quickly get there and open the door and happily greet him as you invite him to come in.

“enjoying yourself, huh? let me join you.” suguru asks, which of course, you gladly agree to. you guide him through the apartment until you reach your room, and the moment the door opens he’s instantly greeted with your scent that feels like a warm hug on a cold night. you sit on the edge of your soft bed and pat on the empty space next to you, waiting for suguru to join you. he’s hesitant to step any closer, wondering how can you be so defenseless around him this easily? but then decides to join in anyways.

the moment he realizes he’s completely alone with you, in your room at that, butterflies begin to form inside his stomach and his heart starts racing. but he keeps his composure and remains calm, though he’s not entirely sure how much longer can he hold himself back.

“i’m gonna apply this mask for you, it’s really good! it’ll make your skin look glowy and healthy.” you enthusiastically inform suguru. he’s not really into skincare or anything of that sort, he couldn’t care less about what this mask does. he just loves it when your eyes light up and you beam brightly whenever you talk about something you enjoy, he can never get tired of it.

you lean in to apply the mask for him, and your eyes are instantly locked in a long gaze. your faces are so dangerously close that your hot breath is fanning all over his face and your lips are only inches away from a kiss, causing his skin to slightly tingle in both excitement and nervousness. this new sensation sets his heart on fire, and it’s becoming so overwhelming. he doesn’t think his heart can handle it anymore, like it’s about to burst out of his chest. he can’t help but wonder if you’re also feeling the same way, or is it just him?

you’re done applying it, yet your eyes never dare to look away, as if you’re caught in a trance. you both stay like that for who knows how long before suguru pushes you back, his hands tightly holding your arms. he’s reached his limit, he can’t hold back any longer.

“y/n… are you deliberately tempting me or what? looking at me with those eyes with your face so dangerously close. i’m losing my mind here.” you? tempting him? what is even talking about? you’re completely oblivious to what’s going on, and suguru quickly catches onto that. of course you just have to be oblivious, which adds more to his suffering.

he lets a big sigh escape his lips, and he lets go of you. but his gaze is still onto you, you notice that his ears are turning bright red.

“i just can’t hold back anymore, i don’t think we can be friends anymore. i’m in love with you, i’ve been feeling this way for a long time now.” suguru’s sudden confession takes you by surprise, not only because you’re trying to process the fact that THE suguru geto has just confessed that he likes you, but also because you can’t believe that your crush on him has been mutual all along. you begin to connect the dots and now everything makes sense. how he used to push other guys away from you, how overprotective he is of you, how sulky he feels when you hang out with satoru and kento without him.

you start giggling all of a sudden, and it slightly startles suguru. but before he gets a chance to say anything, you pull him in a hug. arms wrapped around his neck as your fingers play with the jet black locks of his hair. it doesn’t take him long before he wraps his arms firmly around your waist.

“i love you too, suguru.” you whisper softly against his ear, sending shivers all over his spine. the moment he’s been dreaming of is no longer just a dream, but a beautiful reality. suguru pulls away from the hug and lets his hand find a home on your soft cheeks as he leans in for a deep kiss. you smile against his lips as you kiss him back, letting yourself melt in the sweet sensation.

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mercuriians · 1 month

Note

I feel like a fic about Atsumu, Oikawa, and Bokuto finding their s/o reading fanfic about them would be hilarious

(You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to <3)

Have a lovely day and thank you if you end up doing this request <33333

a fantasy world

content info — gender neutral! reader, fluffy hq!! drabbles with some crack & hurt/comfort (sounds weird but bear w it, all separate). a teeny tiny bit suggestive in atsumu's part cuz he's a little shit.

word count — 1.9k words.

author’s note — holy HELL this is so late 😭 anon i hope ur still here, i made this pretty long so that's my way of apologizing. im also praying that atsumu is in character because this is only the second time ive written him. anyway, tysm for requesting!! hope u all like this <3

MIYA ATSUMU

your eyes are obstinately glued to your phone, wholly transfixed by the words that were typed across the screen. not a single soul knew about your little hobby and quite frankly, it was likely better that they remained oblivious. you wouldn’t know how to react if anyone found out, but really, there was one particular person who absolutely had to stay unaware.

as it turns out, they were also the very subject of the story you’re currently reading—of course, none other than your sweet, beloved boyfriend, atsumu. not that the term ‘sweet’ was an especially fitting term for him. ooh, that was a sick burn.

now, obviously you loved the boy. atsumu was bold, intelligent, thoughtful, hardworking, and affectionate to the point where osamu and the rest of his team often complained about how shameless he was in front of them. his spirit burned bright with fiery ambition, glimmering red and orange and yellow, and he introduced a kind of light into your life that you had never quite experienced before. at first you were a little wary at first, a little blinded by how much he shone, but because you were just as stubborn as he was, you soon grew used to it.

if anything, you came to learn that atsumu was undoubtedly one of the most inspirational people out there. motivating his peers was like second-nature to him, and even if he didn’t consciously put in the effort to inspire them, he still ended up doing so anyway. his love for volleyball was blatant in its authenticity, in its obsession. so when coupled with his charisma, and, yes, his boyishly good looks, atsumu developed a serious kind of gravitational pull. it was no wonder so many people were drawn in—yourself included.

but, inevitably, something had to be sacrificed. your boyfriend’s devotion to the game often meant that you two didn’t get to spend much time together. if atsumu wasn’t practicing at the gym, then he was either thinking about doing it, on his way to doing it, or—this happens only under the direst of circumstances—recovering from doing it. he was, in every sense of the word, a workaholic.

you were fine with it for the most part, mostly because you had a busy schedule to deal with yourself. if you weren’t doing homework or studying for an upcoming exam for the sake of staying on top of your classes, then you were either fulfilling your duties as a student council member, playing your respective sport, or taking care of things at home.

regardless, there were still times when you wished atsumu was with you. it didn’t matter if he was spewing volleyball jargon, or forcing you to pepper with him, or anything like that. you just wanted to spend time with him, to actually see him and his stupid face and his stupid smile that you want to kiss so badly.

maybe that’s why you’re so zeroed in on the fanfiction you’re reading—to try and make up for what you’ve been deprived of for days on end. a very palpable twinge of sadness tugs at your heart. you push the unwanted sentiment to the depths of your mind, trying to focus on reading the story again.

god, what sentence were you even on? and why was the door suddenly opening—

“hey baby, did ya miss me?”

your soul leaves your body.

before you even have time to think, a shrill scream rips from your throat as you scramble to hide your phone underneath the covers. atsumu's jaw drops, completely and utterly befuddled by your behavior. after a moment he raises his hands in mock surrender. "jeez, darlin', it's just me. your boyfriend, remember?" atsumu says, brow raised. there's a mixture of emotions written across his face—slight concern, palpable amusement, even some suspicion. "what are ya hidin' there on your phone, anyway?"

finally, you seem to find your voice. "n-nothing important," you mumble, clearly and very intentionally avoiding the intensity of atsumu's hawk-like gaze. "i didn't even know you'd be visiting today.. thought you would be busy with practice again."

maybe it's because your boyfriend knows you so well by now, but he catches the hint of bitterness in your tone. his face softens, and he takes one, two, three steps toward you until he's taking up the space on your left. "coach called in sick, so mister perfect decided to just cancel practice for today," atsumu shrugs. you're still somewhat upset, but you can't help but smile at the setter's nickname for his captain—kita shinsuke, the closest embodiment of perfection that anyone's ever seen.

"i'm pretty sure i texted ya that i would be dropping by," your boyfriend adds, glancing over at you. cautiously, you pull out your phone again and open up the messages app. lo and behold, he did in fact text you, but you were too busy with your fanfiction to notice.

your face burns with the weight of your embarrassment.

a small chuckle escapes from atsumu's mouth. "wow, i haven't even done anything and you're already blushin' for me," he teases. you hit his chest halfheartedly, muttering about how mean he's being. you fail to notice the calculating glint in his eyes. you also fail to notice his hand wandering.

a second later, atsumu grins smugly, your phone held securely in his grip.

"what the hell, 'sumu?!" you screech, trying to retrieve the object in vain. "how did you even—"

"i'm good with my hands," he winks, and you don't even have time to scold him for the clear innuendo because he's typing in the password to your phone. all you can do is accept your fate as atsumu discovers the story you were reading.

as expected, he laughs. loudly. it's almost like the laugh he lets out whenever he wins a bet against osamu. you turn away, shame and humiliation gnawing at your chest. there's nothing more you want than to be swallowed by the floor beneath you.

however, when atsumu's laughter dies down a few moments later, you feel him wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "baby," he begins, voice still a little breathless from all his cackling, "why are ya reading this when ya got the real thing right here?"

you look up at him, a confusing mess of emotions swirling within your stomach. "because we don't seem to spend much time together anymore," you admit, lowering your eyes to the ground. "laugh all you want, but these stories are there for me whenever i need them. you probably think it's stupid, or pathetic, or whatever, but.. i miss you, 'sumu."

you close your eyes, preparing to hear another round of thunderous laughter. it never comes.

"open yer eyes for me, babe," atsumu's voice is unexpectedly soft, tender. hesitantly, you do, and your gaze meets his. your boyfriend reaches out, resting a calloused hand against your cheek. his touch is so familiar, so comforting, that you can't do anything else but lean in and welcome it. "i didn't know that ya were feelin' this way, and i'll admit that it's my fault for not noticing. but hey, you wanna know somethin'?"

"what is it?" you whisper.

"i miss ya too," your boyfriend confesses. he leans in, placing a soft kiss against your lips. "and tomorrow, i'm taking ya out on a date."

OIKAWA TOORU

"oh my god, this is so cute," you sigh dreamily, swinging your feet in satisfaction as you indulge yourself. it was fanfiction, for crying out loud—can you really be blamed? this particular story practically reeked of fluff. you had just received flowers from the male lead, with you two having confessed just a few days ago. now you were on the first date, entering the doorway to a beautiful relationship that made every reader jealous.

the fact that the male lead—the infamous setter of aoba johsai, fanboy of iwaizumi hajime, hater of ushijima wakatoshi—also happened to be your boyfriend was just a minor detail.

you continued reading, the outside world completely irrelevant as you immersed yourself in the story. soon another squeal leaves your lips as oikawa, the male lead, bends down to kiss your hand. he says something swoonworthy, causing you to giggle like a madman. "that's it, i'm marrying you," you say, as if he can hear you through the story.

"marrying who?"

you let out a defeated sigh as your boyfriend pops his head into your room. there's a pout on oikawa's face, his mocha eyes filled with mock betrayal. still there's a part of you that knows he actually is a little bit jealous; he just doesn't know that technically, he's jealous of himself. "who are you marrying, babe?" he asks you somewhat accusingly. "i think it's a bit too early for—"

"shut up please," you groan, a bit sad that your reading session got interrupted. "i'm reading this fanfiction of you, and in the story, you're actually nice to me."

you immediately hear an indignant gasp from your boyfriend. he puts a hand to his chest, his pout now even more prominent. "excuse me, i am nice to you," oikawa scoffs as he walks over, squinting at the story you're reading. "i'm way better than him!"

"you are him," you deadpan.

"exactly! why are you reading that when i'm right here? i'm hurt," oikawa says in disapproval, shaking his head at you. "now move over."

you blink—once, twice. "wait, what?"

"i wanna read too," oikawa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "so i can list all the things they got wrong about me."

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

maybe reading fanfiction about your boyfriend wasn't the best idea. it's not that the story wasn't great because it really was—the characterization was on-point, the writing style was smooth and elegant, and the plot was creative. it's more about your boyfriend himself. particularly the way that he reacted when he found out.

"am i not good enough?" bokuto asked you quietly as he stared up at you. his golden eyes were absolutely despondent, his shoulders were slouched, and even his owlish hair looked like it was deflated. you didn't need akaashi to understand that those were all signs of an emo bokuto.

and it was all because of you.

man, the guilt was unbearable.

"koutarou," you say softly, reaching out to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "baby, you are more than enough for me. you're amazing, okay? you're my anchor, and you make me smile when no one else can. compared to you, this fanfiction means nothing." you pause, placing a tender kiss against his warm cheek. "seeing you sad makes me sad, you know?"

"i'm sorry," bokuto mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. "i thought i'd let you down or something, like i wasn't being a good boyfriend. it scared me."

his words make your heart hurt even more. you pull away from the hug, letting your earnest gaze meet his. "from now on, you don't have to be scared," you tell him seriously. "i'll stop reading fanfiction, and every day, i'll remind you of how much you mean to me. is that fair, kou?"

bokuto nods, and it's at that moment that you start to see the gloomy aura around him disappear. "i love you," he says, and you can tell that he means it. he always does.

you pull him closer, your fingers combing through his hair soothingly. he hums quietly, enjoying the feeling. "i love you too, koutarou," you smile. "and no story will ever change that."

you let a few moments pass by, simply listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. slowly, you let your eyes close, your boyfriend's strong embrace lulling you to a light rest. after a few moments, though, bokuto's voice breaks through the silence. "can i ask you a question, babe?"

you open your eyes. "anything."

he pulls away, his expression completely serious as he looks at you. "can we get something to eat?"

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satans-helper · 2 months

Text

In Your Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~5300

Warnings: semi-public sex (like...very low-key), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PIV sex. 18+ only ~

This took me forever to finish because I started it before my stupid tonsillectomy and I was totally useless throughout most of the recovery. Also, it's been absolutely ages since I wrote a Jake x Reader fic so I'm not sure how I feel about it...I really enjoyed writing this regardless of my trepidation though. I loved the idea of falling in love with him at work and him being so cheeky...hope you enjoy it too <3

P.S. also ages ago, I wrote a Josh x Reader fic that also took place in a library which you can read here. Links on my desktop masterlist aren't active for some reason...but I found it using a certain tag lmao. If you know, you know.

---

You were finishing up fixing the order of some art books in the back of the library when you felt Jake come up behind you. “Wanna hear something kind of crazy?” he whispered in your ear, his chin nearly on your shoulder, his hair brushing against yours. Without even seeing him, the closeness and warmth of his body and the low, husky whisper sent a tingle up your spine–he certainly added a level of intrigue to working in a library.

“Always,” you said, slipping the last book into the correct spot. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon–you’d thought it’d actually be busier given the rain that kept bucketing down outside, creating an even cozier atmosphere, but maybe people just wanted to stay home with their books instead. That was fine by you. You liked it when it was nearly dead silent throughout the building and Jake was there to occasionally break through, his voice a river through your thoughts and his subtle touches all shockwaves to your heart.

When you turned around to face him, Jake looked like he was holding back a hilarious joke or something, eyes all eager and a grin tight on his lips like he was bursting at the seams. “So I just went to the bathroom and guess what I heard?” he went on, raising his eyebrows.

You scrunched up your nose, already worried. This wasn’t what you were expecting when he’d said ‘something crazy.’ What sort of craziness happened in libraries anyway? “There are a lot of things I can think of. Is this a gross story?”

Jake chuckled. “It depends on your definition of ‘gross.’ Okay,” he said, looking around to make sure you two were still alone in the section. Then he looked into your eyes again and lowered his voice even more to tell you, “There were people fucking in there.”

You scoffed, offended on behalf of the library–the sacred, beautiful space where people went to relax and read, not deal with lewd conduct. That wasn’t crazy, that was just offensive! “What, like two guys?” you questioned, tilting your head, a little irked at Jake finding this all so funny.

“No, a guy and a girl.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse. Women shouldn’t have to deal with getting laid in a men’s bathroom,” you said, then were momentarily distracting yourself with yet another out of place book on the shelf. “I’d never do that. I can’t believe someone else is. I mean, kids go here.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said slowly. He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at you pointedly, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “Then again–”

Before he could finish, you had another thought. “Wait, Jake–did you say anything to them?”

“No. What could I say? I just high-tailed it out of there as soon as I heard.”

You sighed. The whole thing would be far more redeemable if your boyfriend had at least tried to throw out some warning words to the perpetrators. “You should have told them to stop. I would have.”

“I’m sure they finished soon after I left.” He smirked. “It sounded like they were pretty close.”

You groaned quietly and turned away, preferring to find another thing to busy yourself with now. “Gross. They should be banned.”

Jake followed along right at your side as you whisked through the rest of the art section and back to the cart you needed to empty. “I didn’t see who they were, so no chance of that.” At the cart, he put his hands on it, keeping it in place. “I actually thought you’d find it sort of amusing, Y/N.”

You leaned over, almost close enough to touch your noses together. “You’re such a guy. Only a guy would think it’s amusing and not disgusting.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a little stuffy,” Jake replied, tilting his head up as if he were challenging you. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering we’ve never done anything like that.”

You scoffed again and leaned back, surprised and still a little irritated, but also genuinely curious. “Oh, so you want to fuck around in a public place? That’s something I didn’t know about you.”

Jake’s challenging stance turned crestfallen, and he lifted one of your hands to press a kiss to. “Forget I said anything about it. I mean, I suppose you’re right–it is kind of gross.” He kept your hand clasped in his for a few seconds as he said, “But I’d never make love to you in a public bathroom. I’d hope you know me better than that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of a man clearing his throat, settling down into a chair with a newspaper. He wasn’t paying any attention to you or Jake, but you gave the cart a push anyway, cajoling Jake off it so you could navigate to where you needed to go next.

“It’s really the fact that it’s the bathroom that makes it so gross,” you whispered as Jake kept following you. You couldn’t deny you’d had some secret fantasies about getting it on in the library–after all, it was where you and Jake had met and where you continued to spend the most time together. But none of your fantasies included the restrooms in the hall, or the utility closet or that little corridor tucked away across from the restrooms where the vending machines were. Too grody, too cramped, too obvious.

“At least our bathrooms are clean.” Jake parked himself right next to you once you were in the biography section, and when you stepped away from the cart, he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place. “But if I’m being really honest, I have thought about us, well, fooling around here. I think it’s quite surprising we never have.”

“Jake,” you said in an attempt to protest, but his sweet, pretty face and ticklish touch on your waist made you giggle, and his confession that echoed your own secret thoughts lit a little spark. “We work here!”

“So? All the more reason. It’s always been our special place.” Jake smiled as he got even closer to kiss you; you kissed him back, looping your arms over his shoulders. He was smiling even bigger when you both broke away and he said, “You know, it’s just me closing tonight. You should stay after with me.”

“God, and do what?” you replied, but, despite yourself, you were growing more intrigued.

“Well, don’t you think the study rooms here are nice and cozy?” Jake questioned, still latching himself to your side as you started to put more books away. “There aren’t any cameras in any of them either. No one would know.”

You looked up at him from your crouched position, sliding a book into place. “Someone would know. Someone would find out somehow.” You were quickly finding even more perfectly good reasons in your mind not to do this, to not even really toy with the idea, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought, why not? Could the risk make it more fun? Even just the new, ill-fitting, sort of scandalous environment?

Besides, Jake really did look hot today. He looked hot every day, but the second you’d seen him after he’d come into work earlier, he’d lit a fire in your belly that was more intense than usual. His hair had the perfect level of slight messiness and the relaxed black button-down shirt was perhaps one or two buttons shy of being overtly inappropriate for work; the smooth tan skin of his chest exposed and acting as a lovely backdrop to the long silver chain dangling, the pendant hitting his sternum. You could imagine tugging on that chain, grasping the pendant in your palm, to pull him closer while he pressed you against one of those thick wooden tables. You’d run your fingers through his hair and kiss him in the frozen silence, and maybe no one would ever know after all.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning,” Jake remarked, tapping your forehead once you were standing again. “You know you want to.”

You let out an inadvertent nervous giggle and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m thinking about it.”

Jake stepped closer, pressing you back against the cart of books. “I’d love to hear some of those thoughts,” he said, putting his hands on your waist.

“You’re lucky it’s dead here today,” you said, keeping your voice a whisper despite the, indeed, dead library around you. You rested your arms over his shoulders, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers; Jake just kept looking at you with that sweet, silently begging gaze until you giggled, relenting. “Okay. I was, um…thinking about you pushing me down on one of those big tables.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “What else?”

“Well…” you began, looking down at his dark jeans rubbing against your skirt. “You’re giving me some more ideas now.” You lifted one foot off the floor to rub your calf over his, the delicate material of your tights creating subtle but scintillating friction against his denim.

Jake ran the tip of his nose up your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Same here.”

Just as you were closing your eyes and allowing yourself to let your environment fall away around you, to forget about all the risk of being caught right there, and just as Jake’s hand was sliding down between your legs, a person’s incredibly soft–thanks to the clever carpeting job–footsteps headed your way yanked you right out of the moment.

Jake, too. He shot back and cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and looked in the direction of the footsteps; you did too, and soon enough an older woman with her nose already in an open book trotted past the shelves.

“See?” you whispered, gesturing at the passer-by who was already out of view. “It’s so easy to get caught.”

“Please, that lady didn’t notice a thing. Alright,” Jake said before he stole one last hurried kiss. “I should let you keep doing your job and I should carry on with mine. But will you stay after with me tonight?”

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, considering, but it wasn’t long before you said, “Alright, Jake. I’ll stay after and we can play out your little fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy too, baby doll,” Jake said with a wink before he half-turned, beginning to step away. “I think we’ve established that.”

There wasn’t a whole lot to keep your mind occupied as the afternoon carried on. The rain kept coming down, hammering hard against the roof and windows, and the sky outside was pure gray, all flat and blank. It reminded you of your first day working here, as a matter of fact–that morning in the previous late October, when autumn’s chill was officially in the air. A fine layer of frost had even been on the ground that morning; your shoes had crunched over it on the short walk to your car and you’d had to use your defroster once you turned the key, your anxiety peaking as you had to wait even longer to start the new job.

How could such a quiet, peaceful place encite so much anxiety anyway? You remembered wondering that very question as you walked over the sidewalk to the library entrance for the first time since being hired, the concrete slick with that morning frost and the beginnings of a gentle rainfall. And just when you’d been settling in and getting comfortable, Jake had showed up and introduced himself, all casual and easy like he didn’t know he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

Thankfully, Jake was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. It didn’t take long before his beauty and charm stopped intimidating you and instead just made you feel all light and full of joy–you were simply happy to chat with him whenever you both could spare a few minutes. Those few minutes steadily turned into shared breaks; then, shared lunches where you’d sit out back on the one picnic table when the weather permitted. Then he started bringing you special treats sometimes, things he knew you liked because he actually listened about what you liked, and then after that he started bringing you whole lunches packed with love and care that you’d never experienced before.

So, after all that, was it really such a big deal to make love inside the place in which you fell in love?

None of your other coworkers even seemed to notice that you were staying later than planned this evening. But, just to be safe, you also made a point to hide out in the kid’s section when closing time crept up, busying yourself with cleaning up stray crayons and markers and then browsing through some of the newer picture book additions when you were done with that.

When you were sliding one picture book back onto the shelf and reaching for another, you noticed the part of the library beyond the kid’s section dim; you stood up and walked out into the main area, and there Jake was behind the checkout counters flipping switches.

“Despite almost always being the one to close,” he said, flipping another switch. “I still sometimes forget which lights actually get turned off and which ones stay on.”

A path of yellow light led the way past the checkout and reception, past the few rows of public use desktop computers. Jake held your hand as you both stepped through the library, your heartbeat speeding up a bit with nervous yet delightful anticipation; a few more steps and you were further into the very back of the library, just about there. Four study rooms were staggered just beyond the teen reading section, two on the left and two on the right with a wall of windows in between.

Jake opened the door to the last study room on the right. A large window was in there too, soaking in the deep sunset that was resting beyond the grass outside and the trees, and the mostly-bare branches of all the trees were throwing shadows across the library grounds. Then Jake flipped the light on, making it all disappear.

“Oh no,” you said, reaching behind him to flip it off again. “It’s sort of magical with the light off. Look at that sunset.”

Jake followed your gaze out the window to the wash of deep blue painted across the sky, nighttime so early in autumn that only a slight sliver of golden-orange remained just on the horizon. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago and had left a lingering mist on the ground, its faint haze trailing along just outside the windows–the whole scene was so much more peaceful than what was going on inside your head. You couldn’t shake the possibility of getting caught even though Jake was right about there being no cameras back here, and there was no one else around, not even any of the custodial staff, and not a soul out there in the fog. Just you and Jake in the little dark study room, his hand still warm around your own.

Your thoughts started to drift away, making space for your mind to comprehend the shadowed image of Jake before you as he gently turned you to face him. He smiled with the slightest bit of white teeth gleaming between his full lips, and you instinctively smiled back, pulled under his charm again. So, now effortlessly charmed and put at ease, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close, caressing his shoulder blade with one hand and the slight curve of his waist with the other as both of your smiles disappeared into a kiss.

“You were making me crazy all day,” he remarked between the kisses that accelerated with both of your lips parted and the wet meeting of tongues.

“Really? You kept it well-hidden.” Of course Jake did–you never doubted his affection and passion for you, but he kept everything so private. It was one of the many things you liked about him. You cupped the back of his head, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails just the way he liked it, and kissed him again.

“God, your ass in this skirt,” Jake said, voice a little rough, and he reached down to grab you there. “The way your hips move.” He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face. “So unbelievably pretty.”

You held the side of his face. “You are too, Jakey.” He really was, and even in the dark–perhaps especially in the dark, actually. The shadows enveloped him in even more mystery than normal, but you could still so plainly see the angles of his face and the smoothness of his skin in the faint, distant glow of the lingering sunset. Jake smiled at the sound of that little nickname coming from you, then disappeared as he pressed his lips to yours again and pushed you back against the table just like in your little fantasy.

You felt the warmth of his hand travel around your hip then slide down over your skirt; you kissed him harder and spread your legs a little wider when his fingers skated effortlessly up your thigh over your tights. Jake purred against your mouth as he traced the seam of those tights, and subsequently the crotch of your panties beneath, with one fingertip, and your own hands hurried down his body with much less grace to squeeze his ass and feel the hardness between his legs as reciprocity.

Before you could do much more than that, he was pushing your skirt up all the way with one hand and continuing to use the other to tease you. Your breath caught in your throat as you were finding yourself trying to stay silent despite the library being completely empty; Jake carried on with longer, deeper touches over the crotch of your panties and tights. The steady back and forth of his fingers over the two thin layers of fabric sent a delightful tingle of pleasure up your spine but you couldn’t forget his either–you kept that one hand of your own on his crotch too, gently squeezing his erection through his pants.

Jake huffed softly and kissed you again; you clutched his arm with your other hand, squeezing his bicep. Maybe other people didn’t mind getting caught–maybe there really was some sort of thrill to it. Maybe other people actually sometimes wanted others to witness their most intimate moments but you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine doing this with the lights on in the middle of the day, with the soft noises of people beyond the walls and the risk of someone catching a glimpse from opening the door or from outside the windows. You were perfectly happy with having Jake all to yourself in the shadowed little square study room, his skin so perfectly warm, his kiss so perfectly molded to yours.

“Was this part of your fantasy?” Jake questioned as he slowly sank to his knees, keeping your skirt bunched up over your hips with both hands now. But it was obvious what he was doing, so you took their place to keep it out of the way while his hands squeezed your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs.

The scant sharpness of his teeth over your crotch made you gasp. “Maybe,” you answered, thighs quivering against the table behind you.

“Oh, come on,” Jake beckoned, looking up at you with a sweet but slightly mischievous gaze, his eyebrows raised just enough to display teasing curiosity.

“Seems like you already know,” you replied, stifling a giggle at him struggling to get your tights down from beneath your skirt.

“I don’t know how you wear these things,” he remarked, which made you actually let out a laugh.

“Just rip them for fuck’s sake,” you instructed, eager now, already wet for him. “They’re not expensive.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “If you insist,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of black nylon in each hand and ripped the tights right open, then quickly pulled your panties to the side next, giving you no time to think at all anymore. Whatever words your mind may have found merely turned to shaky breaths as you watched Jake’s face disappear between your legs again.

He gave a little hum just as he went straight in, the bridge of his nose rubbing up against your clit while he dove his tongue into your center like he really did want to eat up all the arousal that had been conjured up just for him. Your fingers found his hair again, knuckles curling to tug the long strands while your nails scratched his scalp again and he let out a little pleased sound, almost like a gratified laugh, and dug his own blunt nails into your inner thigh as he kept you spread open.

One word finally emerged from your lips–Jake’s name, simply spoken in a soft tone as the ministration of his tongue and lips had you squirming and quivering even harder, your heels digging into the carpet below as you slightly struggled to stay upright. The repeated flicks of tongue over your clit disappeared for a brief moment, then slowed to one long drag of his tongue over your center just to start that quick pace again. Sighs and whimpers were dragged out of you with each lick; when Jake slipped two fingers in, the slow but easy stretch made you tremble and clench your fingers into his hair even harder.

“You’re so tight,” he commented when he pulled back just enough for you to look down again and see your own wetness glistening on his lips and chin. You could feel it too, how much tighter you were clenching around his fingers as he gently thrust them and teased, curling them and now rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so good,” you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes again when the sensations had you arching your back. You hissed and bit your lip when Jake’s mouth found you again, his tongue teasing your clit more while he slid his fingers in deeper.

You had thought it would take more of a conscious effort to relax in this space and just let go, but it was easy, so easy–you just let your body respond to Jake with each tremble and moan and gasp and tug at his hair until your legs were outright shaking. Panting, the peak rising deep inside, you pulled him closer and he obliged, sucking on your clit as his fingers curled and gently tugged deep inside you too as if he was literally trying to pull you right to the edge you were already rapidly careening to.

His name from your lips once more wasn’t a soft little sigh; it was a sharp, long whine that seemed to boom in the little study room. Your ferocity surprised you even more when the overstimulation came on so soon and you yanked his head back with one hand and shoved him away with the other, your hand gripping his shoulder. Panting, eyes still shut, you could feel how much wetter you were with his saliva and the rush of your orgasm, the fluid soaking your panties that were pulled to the side and even the very inside of your thighs.

Jake pressing a kiss to your thigh made you look down but he was getting up on his feet now; your gaze followed the steady movement of his rise and then you were whisked away into blissful darkness again when he closed in and kissed you–close-lipped because he was so polite. But you parted yours and slid your tongue over his and gripped his waist tight for a moment before hastily getting those buttons on his shirt undone, fingers trailing all the way down to get his pants undone next.

He tentatively pushed you back onto the table a bit more so your feet were off the floor, legs still spread wide around him and dangling when he pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal that heated hardness. His cock leaked just a bit as he stroked it once, looking at you, and a blip of that old insecurity born from adoration and fascination stroked your brain, because Jake was just so beautiful and his beauty was so much more stark in contrast to the plain white walls behind him.

“That was intense,” Jake said with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips as he slid the head of his cock all through your wet center, making a point to rub longer and harder over your clit. As he slid in, taking your breath away entirely, he sighed too and you watched his shoulders drop and his chest flush and he asked, so casually, “Is your fantasy being fulfilled?”

Even with the impact of Jake’s cock filling you so perfectly, you had to laugh. “You're a fantasy, Jake,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, to make the head of his cock hit so deep inside you that you gasped again as if you weren’t expecting the feeling. “What about–” You had to pause when Jake gave his first thrust. “What about your fantasy? This was all your idea.”

“It was a shared idea,” he reminded you with the cutest little smile. How could anyone be so sexy and adorable at the same time, especially during the actual act of sex, especially when that sex was taking place inside a public library? But he was, and you kept your eyes on him as he steadily sped up with his hips and his hands explored your body over your clothes, one squeezing your breast through your shirt and the other smoothing down your waist, your hip, traveling around your thigh.

“Oh god,” you chirped when Jake’s fingers made contact with your still-sensitive clit; but he was gentle, clearly deliberately being slow with the little circles he was making. With your arms still a loop around his shoulders, you sank your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there for a minute before the soft pink of his chest became too tempting not to touch.

“Fuck yeah, that feels amazing,” Jake said in that deliciously hazy, husky voice after you slipped your hands past his open shirt to toy with his nipples. Bringing more attention to him put your lingering overstimulation in the background–you continued to tease with one hand while the other skated over the other side of his chest, feeling his warm, soft skin, up to his neck. You caressed him there, your fingers lightly touching the tender skin along his throat and then up to his ear, and Jake moaned softly and tilted his head to try and get more contact.

That was fine by you. You lightly scratched behind his ear like he was a cat and he sort of purred like one anyway, making you giggle; Jake giggled too and surged forward, picking up his pace as he whisked you away with another series of kisses that were deep but just sloppy enough for your mutual moans to be voiced.

But, also to your surprise, Jake began to voice more thoughts between increasingly ragged breaths: “Remember when we first met?” he asked, his fingers over your clit sliding down to get slick again from your own arousal. “That was–fuck, that was such a good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, playing with one of his earrings as your other hand squeezed his pec. “I’m lucky I even got the job here. For a lot of reasons.” You stole another lingering kiss before adding, “You’re the biggest reason.”

Jake smiled. The sunset that had been just barely clinging to life when you’d both began was gone now–the only illumination was coming from a parking lot light that was too far away from the windows to see, but the pale yellow glow was scant enough to see that alluring, mystical beauty that your boyfriend possessed. Just looking at his face was enough to make you come again.

But Jake’s skilled fingers and the heat, weight and stretch of his cock still thrusting into you certainly helped. You buried your face against his neck now that you had access to all of him; a thick sob was muffled as you tightened and spasmed around him, and you heard him let out a quiet “wow” as the second orgasm rolled through you.

His fingers on your clit, thankfully, moved away. He gripped your thigh again instead; his pace was now messy and fierce, and you had to fight to stay in place not only from the harsh movements and how the table you were sitting on was skidding a bit across the floor, but also from that second round of intense bodily excitement.

“God,” you huffed, stifling another laugh. Apparently it didn't matter where you were–if you were with Jake, he just gave you the giggles. “You’re really going for it.”

Jake cradled the back of your head, messing with your hair a bit. “And I’m–hmm–almost there.”

You kissed him softly and sweetly, from his collarbone and up his neck to his ear. “Good boy,” you whispered there, giving his ear a nibble. Jake moaned wordlessly in response and gave one last deep, solid thrust that jostled you backwards and made the table creak, then he went slack over you, his whole upper body all loose and so hot that warmth was radiating through his shirt.

When Jake lifted his head, you leaned back and waved the back of your hand over your forehead with a silly “whew” motion; Jake laughed and nodded, then slowly pulled out. He collapsed forward again, resting his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him once more.

“Well, we’ve done it once. Do we ever need to do it again?” you asked, petting his back.

“Like, um, sex?” Jake asked, mumbling against your chest. “Or sex in the library?”

“In the library, duh,” you said with a chuckle, and kissed him when he lifted himself up and looked at you.

“Where else should we do it?” Jake replied, his tone and little smile making it obvious he was kidding–finally. You were glad to have played out this little fantasy and do something new and a little risky, but you’d be even more glad to just go back to the way things were. Nothing wrong with a classic.

“Our bed, definitely,” you said, and Jake smiled and nodded again; you began working on buttoning up his shirt. “Our couch. The floor. Maybe the shower.”

“Maybe?”

“Last time we tried the shower, you nearly cracked your head open,” you reminded him, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “And nearly broke your perfect teeth.”

Jake’s smile grew wider. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d never forgive that stupid shower.”

Jake patted his hands from your shoulders down the length of your body, stopping at your ankles. “Well, babe, we’re both in one piece now, aren’t we? Time to close up?”

“Definitely. The custodians are probably going to be here any minute.”

“Oh my.” Jake held your hand to bring you off the table. “That would have been quite the show for them.”

“No more shows,” you said as you both put the finishing touches on getting yourselves decent before Jake opened the door. “I should be the only one looking at you when we fuck.”

---

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junkissed · 10 months

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wait

member — joshua x gn reader genre — fluff, comfort (18+) word count — 1.1k synopsis — sometimes you just need to take second to wait. warnings — allusions to past/future sex but no sex happens in this fic, implied that shua is more dom and reader is more sub, this is literally just pure aftercare notes — i never feel like i put enough aftercare into my fics because i'm usually drained by the end of writing and i just want to finish it and hit post so this is kinda to make up for that. also i'm really particular about the way aftercare is written and i feel like i never see the kind i want to read so honestly this is just a super self-indulgent fic, because if you can't find it then write it yourself or whatever toni morrison said, but i hope you can enjoy this too :) i haven't proofread this since 3am so if there's mistakes pls ignore! also this is not based on the song wait by dino as you might have assumed i just thought it was a fitting title because we all need a reminder to just slow down and wait

"wait, wait... wait!"

joshua starts to stand up off the bed, but hesitates when you call out suddenly. "what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks quietly, eyes carefully watching your face, searching for signs and trying to figure out what you need.

"don't leave yet," you say softly, your fingers wrapping loosely around his wrist. "don't want you to go.”

he rubs his hand over the back of your palm. "just gonna get you a glass of water,” he explains but he sits back on the bed, waiting anyway.

you're exhausted and you know you both need to shower and change the sheets, but the thought of moving right now only sends you into a panic. you're overheated and sticky with sweat, but still you crave the warmth of joshua’s body next to yours, the feeling of his skin against you as close as he can possibly get.

“later?” you say the word like a statement, but your voice rises in a question. “just stay for now. please.”

there's a time and a place for everything, and joshua knows right now is not the time for rational thinking. sure, you've got twice the amount of laundry to do later and your mouth feels drier than a desert, but that can wait. it can always wait, for joshua. it can wait because right now you need to feel the grounding weight of him beside you, telling you he'll always be there, especially when you need him most.

even though it's what he immediately wants to do, no amount of sweat-stained sheets could ever come before you in his mind. even though he knows you're thirsty and probably craving a cold shower and he wants nothing more than to jump up and take care of your every wish, that's not always what's best. yes, what you need is fresh laundry, but what you want is him.

so he settles back in on top of the bed, easily sliding into place beside you without a second thought. because it's always about you. always has been.

"better?" he asks, his finger gently brushing your cheek in slow, repetitive motions.

you exhale and lean into him, letting your eyes fall shut as you hum in reply.

the gentleness of his touch is such a stark contrast from how he'd been handling you not even 15 minutes ago, but you can't help but love both sides of him. gone is the hair pulling, the slapping and biting, replaced with soft brushes of your hair and careful caresses of your skin over each of the marks he'd left in the heat of the moment.

really, it's joshua's favorite part, besides the fact that he gets the honor of fucking you and being the one to bring you pleasure. it's the part afterwards that he looks forward to, when you're at your most vulnerable and both still riding an emotional high, when he gets to build you back up after so meticulously taking you apart. it's the trust in him that you show without ever so much as saying a word, the sense of safety and comfort washing over you that only ever comes from the feeling of being held in his arms.

the air seems to hang silently around you, as if even the universe can sense that this is a moment that shouldn't be interrupted, your own little bubble together that exists outside of space and time.

you just need a second to collect yourself, and seconds turns to minutes turns to half an hour before you can fully feel like yourself again. sometimes it's minutes and sometimes it's longer, but he'll wait as long as it takes.

you slowly open your eyes and inhale, lips warming into a smile as you see joshua is still here, still cradling your head against his chest, and that this all wasn't just a pleasant dream. you can always rely on him that when you open your eyes, he'll be there waiting for you. no matter how long you need to rest, he's always there when you're ready.

your thumb brushes over his arm, and he rests his cheek against the top of your head. “okay now?” he asks. “or do you just wanna leave it and go to bed?”

as tired as you are and as comfortable as his body feels, the intense feelings have subsided a little and you've regained enough of your energy to realize that what you need most right now is a shower and a glass of water.

so joshua slips off the bed, but not without leaving you with another sweet kiss because why wouldn't he? and you let him leave without a word of protest, because you don't feel that crushing feeling in your chest anymore of being left alone when you really need someone to hug, so you just wait patiently for him to return.

he comes back not much later with cool, fresh water in your favorite cup, and he sits beside you as you drink with his hand on your thigh because now it's his turn to be cared for, and the way he feels cared for is knowing you feel good and knowing he's doing a good job at making you feel loved. and you know that he needs this time just as much as you do so you savor the seconds spent here, letting the water wash down your throat until you both feel refreshed.

“thank you,” you tell him as you sit atop the sink, watching as he sticks his hand under the faucet to see if the shower is the right temperature yet. the bed’s already been stripped of its sheets and a fresh stack of towels been laid out, one by one ticking things off joshua's mental checklist. it's a routine, one that isn't always this thorough every single night but always equal in the amount of care and love he puts in each step.

and eventually things will return to normal, and you'll wake up the next morning filled with nothing but adoration for the man still sleeping peacefully next to you, and then you'll go about your days and come home in the evening and still be so much in love with him that you do it all again. maybe it goes differently next time, faster or shorter or less intense and you don't need to wait like you did tonight.

but sometimes you need a little extra time. and joshua is a patient man.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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dinogoofymutated · 5 months

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NSFW! Cable/AFAB!Reader

Alright! Last time this one will be posted lol. Thanks everyone for being patient with me, I know Cable isn't exactly a fan favorite compared to the other characters I write for on this blog, so I appreciate everyone being cool while I've been finishing this :) If you'd rather read the SFW version, You can find it here :) also, This fic has come callbacks to the previous cable fics I've written, So I'd recommend you read/Reread that one first! TWS: MDNI!!! Jealousy, creepy men, we choose the bear and the bear is Cable. Slight miscommunication, but healthy talks happen. PNV sex, fingering, dirty talk. Usage of pet name "pretty girl". Raw sex, wrap it bf u tap it guys.

The bar is busier tonight than you’ve ever seen it. It’s humid, stuffy, and overly loud with all the warm bodies packed into the small space. You’ve never been one for crowds, but you know for a fact that Cable is certainly not a people person.

The two of you had been crammed into a corner booth for about an hour and a half, originally having come to the bar to meet a contact that never ended up showing. Normally, the two of you would have gone home by now. It was your idea to stay and get something to eat, wanting to at least make some good with the newfound downtime.

You were comforted by the feeling of Cable’s keen gaze keeping an eye on you as you wove through the crowd, finding your way to the bar. You hold back a smile as you sit down, ordering some drinks for the two of you as you wait on the food. Eventually, you glance back at Cable and find him still staring at you, making eye contact as you send him a smile. You’re not surprised, but you raise a playful eyebrow at him. Cable, ever the protective grump, rolls his eyes at you in response, but you still spot the small smile he gives you when you send him a wink.

“That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

“Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

“Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

“Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't.

“What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip.

“This Husband.” Cable grunts.

All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

“What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and was getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately try to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable is ignoring the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

“ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

“Ohhkay. Yeah, let’s go.” You tug on Cable's arm, practically dragging him away at first. You weren’t worried about the drunk, that guy sure as hell wasn’t getting up any time soon. To be honest, you were more concerned with the fact that you could never meet someone in this bar discreetly ever again. Yay.

The drive back to today’s apartment is silent, and you’re thinking too much about Cable, honestly. He’s not necessarily talkative himself, arms crossed in the passenger seat as he looks out the window. You send a nervous glance his way. You had called him your husband, and although it felt right in the moment as you tried to get another man off your back, you didn’t think that Cable would actually hear you. And boy, did he hear you. Sure, he responded… like he did. The memory of it almost makes your stomach flutter. Part of you wants to be absolutely delusional and just revel in the fact that he inadvertently called himself your husband, but what if he felt forced into it? What if he only said that so that you wouldn’t be caught in a lie? When you think about it, that had to be it. I mean, he was being overprotective in the first place, but he was just trying to defend you from unwanted attention. God- you just wish you could pull your thoughts together. Pick up the confusion and chuck it out the door.

You drive on autopilot, and before you know it, you’re already “home”. Nathan splits off from you, going to change probably. The fact that he hasn’t really looked at you yet makes you even more anxious, but to be honest, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if he had. He wasn’t usually affectionate when he was high-strung, and you knew that, but still. You can't seem to let it go. You’re curled up on the couch when Nathan joins you, fresh out of the shower and already in casual clothes. He gives you a little space as he sits, like he doesn’t want to startle you. He’s still as stoic as ever, but at least he doesn’t look angry. You’re itching to say something, to speak, and he can tell.

Nathan could feel your anxiety since the car, and no matter how badly he wanted to know why, he could tell that you needed a moment to get it out. He crosses his arms with a sigh. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but when that idiot at the bar started talking to you he just couldn’t stand it. He knows he blew your cover big time with that punch, but there would always be another crusty bar to go to. In all honesty, he was more concerned with your change in attitude. You receded into yourself in-between the bar and the car, and he didn’t want to know if he was the reason why. He wonders if he overstepped.

“Sorry, by the way.” You finally manage to say. Nathan cocks an eyebrow at you.

“For what?” He asks. You look away nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

“For when I called you my husband back there. I know we’re certainty not… well, I was just scrambling and needed something concrete- and calling you my boyfriend felt weird so-”

“Take a breath.” You’re surprised as he cuts you off, feeling a little stupid as you try to collect yourself. There was so much you had been through, so much that you had learned how to handle, but this?? Why was it so hard to communicate feelings like this when you normally can communicate with him so easily on the battlefield? He was probably tired of your rambling.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it. We wouldn’t have even had a problem if the guy had taken a hint.” Nathan says, pissed off at the thought of the guy putting his hands on you still. You glance at him, a confused look on your face as you lean back on the couch.

“So…?”

“So, don’t apologize. It’s not like I actually…” Nathan stops for a moment, and your heart skips a beat. “I didn’t mind it” He finishes.

“Oh?... Oh.” You say, slightly taken aback. Nathan is flushed red, staring straight ahead as he avoids looking at you.

“So we’re okay, right?” You ask.

“Of course we are,” Nate responds immediately, without even thinking. He looks over at you finally, still blushing a little. You relax at that, having a bit of deja vu. You realize that one of you had moved closer during the conversation, and your sides were pressing together. Nathan’s hair is messy, the gell having washed out during his shower. You always liked how fluffy it was like this, and to be honest, you can't help but reach up and run a hand through his hair. He huffs at the action, a ghost of a smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at you, but he doesn’t stop you from doing it. He’s a bit too tall for you to comfortably reach, even sitting down. Your arm is getting a bit tired, but you don’t want to ruin a sweet moment like this one. After a minute of you debating what to do, Nathan sighs and pulls you into his lap.

“You think too much.” He says, closing his eyes. He brings one of your hands back up to his hair, encouraging you to keep going. You hadn’t expected the action, almost startled by it. Sure, it wasn't like you had never touched him before, but the two of you… you were still getting the hang of things. New changes, familiar feelings. It felt good to be this close to him, and for once you know that you don’t have to worry about your time together being cut short.

“Does it bother you?” You ask quietly. “When I think too much?” Nathan hums, hands resting on your waist.

“...No. You think more than anyone I’ve ever met. Your mind is always running about something or other. Really, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t thinking.” You notice a slight change in his demeanor during his last sentence, but you don’t comment on it. Instead, you find yourself admiring his face. Your hands shift down from his hair, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes, across his cheekbones. Your eyes drift down to his lips, and you can’t help but lean in and kiss him. He’s surprised for a moment, eyes flickering open and then shut as he cups the nape of your neck and kisses you back. You sigh into him, moving to straddle his legs as his left arm tugs you closer to him by your waist. The cold metal chills you through the fabric of your shirt, his thumb idly rubbing against you.

Both of you are out of breath when you separate, caught up in the unbreakable connection between the two of you. You look into his pretty brown eyes, and you want to say it. You want to say those little words so badly. But you know you shouldn’t. There was something about saying it that made everything a little too real, that made everything seem a bit too different. You want to say it, but you don't. You know he knows. You know- you hope he feels the same. It’s all you could ever hope.

“Of course I do,” Nathan whispers, a look so similar to heartbreak on his face. Your eyes widen, once again not realizing his intrusion into your thoughts. Then again, maybe you were just so used to him lingering in the back of your mind that you didn’t notice anymore. You kiss him again. This one is slower, more intimate, more sensual, and he returns it in the same manner. You’re feeling a little sappy, but content just the same. Nathan finds himself in a similar well of emotions, hoping that next time he won't have to remind you for you to know it’s true.

Nathan kisses you again, and again. He drags his teeth across your lower lip before smoothing the skin with his tongue. You eagerly open your mouth, goosebumps forming on your skin as he takes the invitation. Both of his hands have moved down to your waist, squeezing the plush skin as the kiss begins to morph into something a little more intense than it originally was. You feel cold fingers start to drift under the fabric of your shirt for a split second before he shifts you to the side.

Nathan begins to crawl over you, pressing your back onto the couch cushions as he keeps kissing you. He holds himself up with his left arm as the other one begins to slide further underneath your shirt. He’s completely caught up in you and the feeling of you against him. His kisses begin to trail down the side of your neck, and it’s like he knows every sensitive spot by heart. You tangle a hand in his hair again in an entirely different manner than you had done the last time. He shifts his weight so that his other arm has more room to work with.

The mood dies a little when your hair gets pinched by something. You let out a yelp of pain, and Nathan immediately recedes from you. You flinch at another tug, realizing that your hair has gotten caught in his metal arm. Nathan is wide-eyed as he leans up, untangling himself from you so that he can carefully tug your hair free. You sit up as he does, rubbing your sore scalp. He raises a hand like he wants to do the same but doesn’t. He makes a sour look at himself and his arm before he begins to lean away from you completely.

“Sorry, I’ve overstepped,” Nathan says. Your stomach drops to your feet as you scramble to grab a hold of his shirt, keeping him close to you in a bit of an awkward position.

“No!” You say, a little louder than you intended to. Nathan looks a you, more confused than surprised, like he couldn’t fathom why you were holding onto him, why you wanted him to continue.

“I… I’m fine with… just-” You’re struggling to say it, flushed beet red at just the thought of what you’re trying to say. Eventually, you huff and give up, fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. You tug on it a little, but Nathan doesn’t move.

“Don’t make me ask, Nate.” You say. His breath hitches. You bite your lip and his eyes catch on the sight. He catches himself before he gets a little too distracted, and glances away for a moment before making a decision.

“Okay. But we're not doing this on the couch.” Nathan grumbles. He stands, pulling you up with him as he does so, and you can’t stop yourself from tugging him down for yet another kiss. He has to bend down to meet you, a little too tall to kiss you comfortably. It’s not much of a problem though, especially when the man you're kissing is strong enough to lift you into his arms like you're weightless. The kiss only breaks for a second as he lifts you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him as he walks to the bedroom. You realize just how much warmth had begun to pool at the change of position, feeling a wetness between your legs that you wonder if he can feel.

You don’t want to distract him as he carries you, but every time you pull away from his kisses he drags you back to him, biting and sucking on your lips in faux annoyance. It’s like he already has the apartment mapped out in his mind, barely needing to look to navigate through it all. He doesn’t bother closing the bedroom door when he gets there, plopping you down on the bed before he’s crawling over you again, kissing your neck and collarbones as his hands drift underneath your shirt. His hand is rough and calloused compared to the plush skin he finds there, the metal of his other one cold and smooth. You swear it leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

You clench your thighs together as he touches you, not quite used to the feeling. It’s been a while since anyone has touched you like this, and you find yourself completely overtaken by Nathan. He nips at the skin of your neck, and you gasp at the feeling. He continues to suck and lick at the spot, and when he’s done, he starts another one. You wonder if the man at the bar would have still approached you if you had been marked up like this before, wearing a purple, tender kind of jewelry that you’d only let Nathan give to you. You try to project the thought on purpose, hoping that he’ll pick it up. You think about everywhere else he could mark you, and Nathan curses as he sees the images in his mind as clearly as they appear in yours, a hand thumbing at your bra before it slides under you to unclip it.

Nathan leans back as he takes your shirt off, the bra coming with it. You try not to shy up as he openly admires your breasts, watching as your nipple pebbles when he brings his cool left hand up to caress the skin. His eyes catch your own as he leans down to your chest, kissing a trail from your collarbones to the peak of your left breast. He sucks and nips at the soft, squishy skin, taking the nipple into his mouth after he had his fill. You let out a small noise of pleasure, gasping at the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive nub as his other hand lovingly caresses the other.

Your hands wander up and down the expanse of his back, sliding under his pajama shirt. Nathan shudders as you gingerly slide your fingers over his scars, and the torn skin that marks the difference between man and machine. Your fingers follow the seam of scarring delicately, caressing the skin. You feel how his skin prickles, and wonder about the extent of his sensitivities before he nips a little harshly at your nipple to catch your attention. You wince at the feeling before he smoothes it over with his tongue. He kisses your breast one last time before he moves back to your lips.

You lean into the kiss with a hum, inviting him inside of your mouth as his hands trail down to your waistband. His thumbs hook underneath the fabric before he starts to pull it off of you, underwear included. He breaks from the kiss, wiping the trail of spit that connects your mouths. He leans back onto his knees, kissing down your stomach as he slides your pants off completely. His shirt is next to go, revealing the strong muscles that lie underneath. Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his pants, a certain kind of warmth forming in your chest as you realize that every part of him is intimidating. You feel yourself clench at the thought, spreading your legs shyly, inviting him to touch you where you want him the most.

It’s like something in Nathan's snaps as he takes in the sight of you. Your flushed face, heaving chest. The marks he’s left across your upper body.

“Fuck.” He practically growls as he grabs ahold of your thighs, dragging your core flush to his hips and grinding into you smoothly. You can’t help but moan in both pleasure and surprise at the sensation of his soft pajama pants pressing into your bare lips. He feels good against you, his hardness hot and aching to be inside of your warmth.

“Please,” You gasp. “Please, Nate. I need you.” He curses again at the sound of your voice, his hips jerking into your own.

“Not yet. Beautiful.” He rumbles, Struggling to pull himself away from the steady grind. “-Can’t yet. Don’t want to hurt you.” You whine when he stops moving, and he leans forward to kiss you. You twitch at the feeling of his thick fingers sliding through your folds, collecting the wetness he finds there. Nathan groans, knowing just how much you want him from that simple action. He teases you, sliding the pads of his fingers down from your clit to the slit below it, circling your entrance before doing it all over again. You don’t have to say a word for Nathan to know you’re complaining. He chuckles at you, before slipping a finger inside.

It’s thick. You knew it would be, but feeling it was entirely different. You break from the kiss with a moan as he curls the finger and catches that spongey spot inside of you. He moves his kisses to your cheek, and the spot below your ear as he has one arm keep your hips from jerking. He’s slow and thorough as he prepares you, a second finger sliding in with ease when he deems you ready for it. You knew he was good with his hands, but this was giving you a whole new definition of the phrase. The wet noises coming from you are almost embarrassing as he fingers you, hand absolutely soaked from your wetness already. He uses his other hand to start rubbing your clit, and the pleasure almost becomes too much.

“Nathan.” You whimper his name, pleading with him. You needed him, badly. You didn’t want to cum yet, not without him inside of you, not without hearing his low groans and moans as you take him exactly like you were meant to. You clench around his fingers at the thought, and he hums as he pulls them away.

He pulls you up, switching the position so that you’re on top of him. You don’t hide the fact that you’re watching him as he finally takes off his pants, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen as it slips out of the waistband. You wait till he’s fully kicked them off before you begin to stroke him, twisting your hand at the head of his cock. He groans out your name, and another plume of fire lights inside of you as he does so. You really liked how that sounded, falling from his lips.

He’s just as thick as you thought he would be. Your hand can't wrap fully around him, red and straining. His cock twitches as you run your thumb across the slit, collecting the precum that was beading there. You're addicted to the noises falling from his mouth, giving him a slight squeeze to hear him moan again.

Nathan grabs your wrist gently when he's had enough, face flushed and breathing heavily. He helps you angle your hips over him, lining himself up with your slit. The head of his cock notches against you, and both of you want so desperately for him to be inside. There's a quiet - schlick- as he slides through that first ring of muscle, both of you moaning at the feeling.

You take it slow while you're taking him in, circling your hips as You lower yourself down slowly. Fuck- this feels so much better than his fingers. You rest your head against his chest as you struggle to take him, even as wet as you are.

His hands comfortingly slide up and down your thighs when he bottoms out. You take a moment to collect yourself, feeling a slight pinch with how deeply he fit inside of you. Nathan gives you time, pulling you into another breath taking kiss as you adjust.

When you're comfortable, you begin gently rocking your hips against his own, feeling Nathan sigh against you. You're grinding your clit against his pelvis each time you rock, enjoying the added pressure against your sweet spot. You begin to work yourself into a pace, reveling in Nathan's groans as you bounce on top of him.

His cock is hitting all the right spots inside of you, his hands now gripping the flesh of your ass as he thrusts up into you with each stroke of your hips. He feels so unbelievably good, hot and heavy inside of you.

You desperately try to keep up as his thrusts pick up the pace, wanting all of him and more. But your thighs were staring to get sore, and your knees aching from the position. You tuck your head into the crook of Nathan’s neck, balancing yourself on him as a means to catch up, but you just can't. You slow your hips, catching your breath as Nathan continues to trust his hips. He's trying his best to slow down for you, absolutely lost in the feeling of your soft skin and wet cunt.

“Come on, pretty girl. You can do better than that.” Nate says, making you moan in surprise as he gives you a particularly sharp thrust. You shake your head, pleading with him to just roll you over, take you at whatever speed he would like. He's hesitant at first but you're kissing his neck, nipping and sucking at a spot he doesn't remember being so sensitive.

“Please, Nate.” You whisper into his ear, and he shivers, body stiffening under you. “Please,”

In less than a second, you're under him, legs on top of his shoulders as he thrusts into you wildly. His eyes are hooded, gazing at you lustfully as your breasts bounce with every movement. The sound of skin slapping on skin is loud and pornographic as his balls slap against you with his thrusts, the grunts and moans coming from the both of you not much better.

Nathan brings a hand down to rub at your clit as his hips begin to stutter, closing in on his pleasure. Your hips jerk as he does so, quickly reaching that peak of white-hot pleasure yourself. He moans your name as your inner walls clench, back arching as you get closer- closer- so close-

You call out for him when you cum, his hands holding you still by your hips as he ruthlessly fights to reach that peak of pleasure. You're clenching around him as you ride out your orgasm, and it's almost too much.

Nathan pulls out of you when he cums, sticky streams of white splattering on your stomach. He grinds himself against you a few more times, coming down from the pleasure. Your legs have gone limp against him, boneless as you pant and tremble beneath him. Nathan kisses the inside of your ankles before he eases them down.

He leans above you, kissing you tenderly as he cleans you up with his shirt, having dragged the clothing into his hands with his telekinesis. When he's done thoroughly wiping you down, he falls beside you. He rolls you onto his side as he holds you tightly. He's pleasantly exhausted, looking at you in a way that you've never seen before.

His large hand comes up to rest against your neck, thumb running over the tender spots on your skin. You make a bit of a face at the soreness.

“Those are definitely gonna bruise, aren't they?” You ask, somewhat weary of the marks now that the sexy excitement has worn off. Nate huffs a laugh.

“Yeah.” He affirms. You pout at him as he brushes the hair out of your face, sighing in exasperation. To be honest, you didn’t mind it too much. Certainly not enough to be mad at him for it.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You ask, closing your eyes as you snuggle into him. Nathan’s hand rubs your back soothingly as you start to drift off.

“Hm?”

“Did you mean it. When you said you didn’t mind me calling you my husband.” Nathan is silent for a moment. You don’t quite have the energy to read into it like you would have before, but you're relieved when he speaks up.

“...yeah” You smile at his answer, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest as you begin to fall asleep, content and wrapped in his arms.

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