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skbeaumont · 13 days

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"You Should Probably Leave" | Joel x Reader oneshot

Part 1 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: You Should Probably Leave – Chris Stapleton Summary: He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late. And then when he gets home you help him out, too, even though you both know you should probably leave. Tags/Warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, porn without plot, prose but kind of poetry/lyrical, sexual tension, PIV, oral (m! receiving), sub!Joel, you're Sarah's babysitter, AU! No outbreak, set in the 90s. Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I've taken the lyrics and worked them into the story, so I'd really recommend listening as you read. I've been thinking about writing this series for sooo long because country songs + Joel is a match made in heaven. If you've got any song recommendations, let me know!

It’s like a dance, a well-worn routine that you both know, practised and perfected after months of repetitions. You both know where it leads but you’ll still follow all the steps. That’s how it is.

You put Sarah to bed ages ago, spent the last few hours of babysitting on the sofa finishing up some college work, waiting for Joel to get back. His key in the door is a familiar click, the latch sticking the way it always does, his shoulder forcing it open.

You stay where you are. When he comes into the lounge his toolbelt is still strapped around his waist, the remnants of a long day’s work painted across his handsome face and strewn in dust that’s collected on the knees of his well-worn jeans and callused hands.

He pauses in the entrance, arm stretched up above him to rest on the mantle of the door, t-shirt pulling up to reveal a strip of tanned skin above his belt. There’s a glass of wine half-drunk on the coffee table beside you and your feet are tucked up under you.

Neither of you speak for several long moments. You just watch each other, the tension too delicious to break.

“You should probably leave,” He says, but you make no effort to move and he stays where he is, too, dark eyes watching you.

His expression is open, taunting, and you already know what’s going to happen. You untuck your feet and shift them onto the worn carpet, standing to step towards him. His form takes up most of the doorway, his shoulders so broad that they almost touch both sides of the frame.

When you reach it he’s looming over you, blocking the exit off from you if you wanted to leave, but you don’t. You turn into him, press your nose to the slice of skin between his shoulder and neck and inhale deeply, smell the work of his day on him: the musk of sweat, the tang of iron and sharpness of wood shavings.

“I suppose it ain’t all that late,” he says, voice rumbling through his chest, “still time for you to finish your wine.”

You won’t finish the wine, but it’s all part of the well-worn routine the two of you have. He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late.

And then when he gets home you help him out, too. Let him relieve some of the tension that he carries in his shoulders, on his thick-set jaw. You press the first kiss here, letting the rough caress of his stubble eat into your own cheek. When you let your hands course through his hair, scratching your nails into his scalp, he leans into it, eyebrows pitching up, something like a whimper falling from his lips.

There’s a devil on your shoulders, and its urging you each towards the same predetermined end.

“We shouldn’t.” He says, but he doesn’t move away.

“Just one kiss?” You ask, feeling him relax into your touch, the bulk of him slipping down the doorframe, bringing his mouth within reach of yours.

“Alright,” He rasps back, his voice pitching with need, and you claim the last syllable with your mouth, press your lips against his, pull a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Say you want me to stay,” You tell him, and he does, whispers it into your mouth, chases your tongue with his.

When he looks at you his gaze so intense it’s almost intimidating, and you recognise the look in his eyes, the need that’s behind the blown-out pupils and hazy expression.

The slow retreat to his bedroom is well-practised, the carpet belying a well-trodden route you both know. He lets you walk him backwards up the stairs, sighs when you push him against the closed door to fit your mouths together again.

Inside, his bed is unmade and you press him into it, pin his hands above his head and lick a thick strip up his neck, following the tendons to the underside of his jaw.

His moans are the chorus of this well-rehearsed dance. They spur you on as you undress him, revealing the strong lines of his chest, the thick trunks of his thighs, the impressive bulge of his cock in his briefs, already half-hard.

He twitches in your hand when you draw him out and you shift down the bed to take him into your mouth, the head of him heavy and salty on your tongue. His cock swells, the vein that spans the underside pulsing against your palm.

It’s intoxicating and dizzying and familiar, the recognisable ache in your jaw as you take him into the back of your throat, fist gripping the part of him that won’t fit.

“So good to me, darlin’” He groans, running shaking fingers through your hair, trying to sit up against the headboard.

“Relax,” you tell him, pushing him back down to lie against the rumpled duvet, “I know what you need.”

You know him and he knows you, and you both know how this goes. You pull back, work your dress up over your head and pull down your panties, which are ruined with your slick, so damp they catch on your thighs as you peel them off. Joel’s eyes widen as he watches; he can never believe you want this – want him – as much as you do.

When you sink down on his length – the fat head of his cock catching at your entrance, making the stretch delicious and white-hot – he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

You run a finger along his eyebrows, coax him to open them and he does, a muscle in his jaw fluttering as you rise up and drag your cunt back down onto him again.

“I wanna do the right thing, baby,” he tells you, as though this – the pinching heat of him between your thighs, the tremble of his hands as he clutches at the flesh of your ass – isn’t the greatest thing that’s ever happened to either of you.

But you know he hates himself for it, hates that he’s a good decade older than you, that you’re Sarah’s babysitter, that this – this twisted arrangement you have where you stay when he gets back and then end up in his bed – is the only thing that gets him through those long works days sometimes.

“I know,” you say, “but it’s getting kind of hard to resist, isn’t it?”

“You should leave,” he says, thrusting up into you, “we should – Jesus, baby, just like that – we should stop.”

You arch up off the bed, tilting your hips so that he can drive his cock deeper, bottoming out and groaning brokenly into your ear. It’s filthy. Depraved, probably: The slap of his hips as he cants them up into yours, the breathy moans that tumble from your mouth, Joel’s desperate, needy curses.

It’s easy to make him come like this: Three steady, deliberate rolls of your hips and he’s a quivering mess beneath you, his hands fisting in the sheets as he spurts hot and wet inside you.

After, you tell him you should probably leave. He makes you come with his fingers first, tells you to finish your wine, that it still ain’t that late.

And when the sun’s on your skin at 6am, he’s there watching you sleep, hoping you’ll say you’ll stay, even though you should probably leave.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #au! no outbreak #SoundCloud

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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 month

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CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed.

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh.

Right over his head.

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring.

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you.

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of.

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him.

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed Val coming into a room.

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants.

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with.

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach.

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

#vox x reader #vox smut #hazbin vox #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #x reader #my stuff <3

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jeannineee · 8 months

Text

Closure (Ⅲ)

Azriel x Reader

a/n: part three!! Comment if you’d like to be added to part four :) quickly proofread, sorry for any errors

Requests are open for headcanons/short blurbs

ALSO IM A BIT NERVOUS ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT THIS PART IS GOOD SO YALL LMK PLS

Part 1

Part 2

PART FOUR

warnings: angst, allusions to sex (18+ please)

“What are you and Azriel doing?”

Mor’s question drew your attention from the book in your hands. You sat up on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.

“I don’t know.”

That was the truth. You had no idea. It had been a few days since that evening with Azriel in the Hewn City. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t spoken to you since.

Mor sighed, taking a seat on the couch beside you. “I thought you said you ended things with him.”

“I—I did. But…” you trailed off, fidgeting with the spine of your book. “…I can’t stay away from him.”

“Because he’s your mate.” Mor said. A statement, not a question.

Shock was written all over your face. “How did you know that?”

“Anyone with a brain can see it. Except for Azriel, apparently.”

You looked away, finding sudden interest in Feyre’s family painting on the wall. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why?” Mor’s voice was soft, understanding.

“Because he is only interested in Elain.”

Mor went silent for several moments. “I think Azriel feels he isn’t worthy of you.”

“That’s nonsense.”

Mor snorted, twirling her golden hair around her forefinger. “Trust me, I know. But as long as I’ve known him, Azriel has always thought himself to be a bastard-born nobody, undeserving of anything good.”

Something in your soul ached at that. You knew Azriel had issues with his self-esteem, but you didn’t realize just how much it affected him.

At your silence, Mor continued, “Despite his inferiority complex, his behavior is uncalled for. He shouldn’t be stringing you along while entertaining Elain.”

“I know.”

“And you need to grow a backbone.”

You glared. “I have a backbone.”

“Not with Azriel, you don’t.”

You couldn’t argue with that, as much as you hated to admit it. Perhaps it was the bond, that made you so weak to his advances. Perhaps it was your own naïveté.

“Do you…” You swallowed thickly, the question catching in your throat. “Do you think he knows about the bond?”

“I’m not sure.”

~~~~~~~~

Later in the day, you retired to your bedroom, after spending a few hours training with Nesta and Cassian. You loosed a sigh of relief and contentment as you settled into a warm bath, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus wafting through the air.

Normally, a bath would be enough to relax you, and calm your thoughts. But Azriel weighed heavily on your mind. As did your conversation with Mor.

Half an hour passed by, filled with overthinking. Scowling, you rose from the bathtub, wrapping a towel around your form, and headed into your bedroom.

Before you could enter your closet, a knock sounded on your door. You didn’t need to hear his voice to know who it was.

“Y/n.” Azriel called from the hall. “Can I come in?”

You replaced the towel with a silk robe, and sat on the edge of your bed. “Come in.”

Azriel silently entered your room, his shadows much more active than normal. The shadows only behaved that way when he spent time with Elain—they disappeared in her presence.

Yet the shadows reveled in yours.

If the shadows weren’t hint enough as to where Azriel had been earlier in the day, Elain’s flowery scent ensnared your senses. You swallowed down bile.

The Shadowsinger cleared his throat, leaning back against the dresser that stood against the wall, a few feet away from you.

“Did you need something?” You asked him.

Azriel chuckled. “Do I need an excuse to see you?”

You fidgeted with your hands. “I have things to do, so…”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Azriel replied, taking a step forward. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the tanned, muscular chest beneath, and the black, swirling tattoos that marked his skin. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“How kind.” You didn’t bother hiding the annoyance you felt.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You snorted. “Why are you so hot and cold with me? One moment, you’re trying to get me into your bed, and the next, you’re ignoring me for weeks at a time. Why?”

“I have other responsibilities to attend to outside of our friendship.”

You knew those ‘responsibilities’ likely included time spent with Elain. But you didn’t voice that.

Azriel continued, “You know, you can come to me, too. It doesn’t always have to be me who initiates conversation.”

“You’re never around. You don’t tell me where you are, what you’re doing.”

“As I said, I have responsibilities,” Azriel said, before sitting on the bed beside you.

“That’s a piss-poor excuse,” you muttered, not daring to look him in the eye, despite the bond urging you to do so.

Azriel scoffed. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

At that, you whipped your head towards him. “I want my friend back. I want…” You stopped yourself before the next words could leave you.

You wanted him. Wanted—needed more than friendship. You needed your mate. But instead, you repeated, “I want my friend back.”

“You have me,” Azriel said, reaching a hand to cup your face.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he swiped his thumb over your cheekbone. Damn him.

Part of you wanted to protest—to push him away. But each time he touched you, it felt as though every broken piece of you was being put back into place.

“You have me,” Azriel murmured again, brushing his lips against your forehead. He placed a soft kiss to each of your cheeks before his lips melded to your own.

Elain’s flowery scent filled your nose once again, yanking you back into reality. You abruptly broke away from the kiss, rising to your feet.

“Y-You should leave,” you sputtered out, furiously readjusting your hair, your robe.

“Do you not want to…?” Azriel let the question hang as he too, stood from your bed.

“Are you serious?” You spat the question. The casualness in his words, his actions sent you into a white-hot, blind rage. “Not when I can smell Elain all over you.”

Azriel stiffened, but didn’t respond.

You laughed, but the sound was devoid of any humor. “I don’t know what I was even thinking.”

The bond. It had to be the bond, making you forget yourself with him. He still smelled like Elain, for fuck’s sake. For that alone, you would’ve sent lesser males running.

“It always comes back to Elain,” Azriel said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Shouldn’t it? How can you—do you even understand what you’re doing to me?”

Azriel looked taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth, coming short of a reply.

You debated simply kicking Azriel out of your room, and leaving it at that. But all the emotions of the last several weeks came bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over. So you let the words fly out, consequences he damned.

“You are hurting me, Azriel. You—each time you come to me, only to turn around and go to Elain? That fucking hurts. It’s confusing, and I don’t deserve it.”

You loosed a breath, continuing, “I don’t know what you do with her. I don’t know what you feel for her. I don’t care anymore. Just leave me out of it, because it’s hurting me.”

You braced yourself. Braced yourself for a screaming match; an argument. Part of you thought that maybe he’d even laugh at you.

Instead, Azriel merely walked out of your room in silence.

That was far worse.

~~~~~~~~

“What’s got Azriel so pissed off?” Cassian asked you from where he stood on the balcony, nursing a mug of coffee.

“Y/n put him in his place last night,” Nesta interjected, her voice lined with amusement. “Poor Illyrian baby couldn’t take it.”

Cassian grinned. “Rhysie will have a field day when he hears about this.”

You rolled your eyes, staring down at the glass of water in your hands. “Yes, laugh at my turmoil,” you muttered sarcastically.

Nesta and Cassian shared a laugh at that, before the former patted your back comfortingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll go to Rita’s tonight and make you forget all about it.”

~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, Nesta’s idea of “making you forget all about it” included her running off with Cassian into the bathroom after an entire thirty minutes at Rita’s, leaving you alone at your booth, stone-cold sober and mildly annoyed.

After another ten minutes of sitting alone like an outcast, you were prepared to call it quits.

That was, until Eris Vanserra slid into the seat across from you, two mixed drinks in hand.

“Y/n,” he greeted with a smirk, sliding you one of the drinks. “It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough,” you muttered as you took a large swig from your glass.

Eris chuckled, amusement lining his expression. “Always the charmer. How’ve you been?”

“I’m fine. What are you doing in Velaris?”

“Tsk. Not even going to ask how I’m doing?”

You stared.

Eris sighed dramatically, though you noticed his lips twitching up in a smile. “Alright. I’m here for a few days. Just visiting.”

“I highly doubt you’re ‘just visiting.’”

“Believe what you want.” Eris mused, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands. He studied you for a moment, before adding, “You seemed a bit lonely. No males around to warm your bed?”

You took another gulp of your drink. “My bed is of no concern to you.”

Eris grinned, undeterred by your disinterest. “Come on. Loosen up. Play with me.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol kicking in a bit sooner than normal. Or perhaps it was your determination to get Azriel off of your mind. You didn’t particularly care to find out as you replied, “What do I get if I do?”

Eris’s grin became feline. “Whatever you want.”

~~~~~~~~

The first thing that greeted you when you awoke the next morning was a pounding headache. You were never drinking again.

Your grogginess quickly eddied into panic as you realized Eris was sleeping beside you. If you pulled away the blanket that covered the lower half of his form, you were almost certain he’d be—

“It’s not polite to stare,” Eris murmured tiredly, his abs rippling as he sat up in bed, the blanket that previously covered his form sliding away.

You quickly averted your gaze, and rose from the bed, throwing on the nearest piece of clothing.

“My shirt looks lovely on you,” Eris mused, still lounging on your bed as though he owned it.

Your cheeks flushed. You cleared you throat, attempting to find any amount of dignity within yourself as you said, “You should probably leave.”

Eris chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t overstay my welcome.” He stood from the bed, and dressed himself. You prepared to return his shirt, but he halted you. “It looks better on you. Keep it.”

You cursed yourself as your cheeks flushed an even deeper color.

“I have to return home this afternoon,” Eris explained as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if you ever want a repeat of last night…”

You gave him a pointed look. “Eris, as much as I enjoyed—“

“Oh, I know you enjoyed it. Multiple times. You were quite vocal in showing it.”

“As much as I enjoyed it,” you began again with slight annoyance, “I think it best that we don’t do this again.”

Eris shrugged, unfazed. “That’s fine. You were a lot of fun,” he replied as he prepared to leave your room. “For what it’s worth, though, you are…nice to be around.”

You supposed that was the closest you were getting to a compliment from him.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Eris left before you could.

~~~~~~~~

The coffee you drank was a welcome remedy for your headache. Tiredness still gnawed at you from where you sat at the dining table, allowing your thoughts to wander.

You didn’t particularly regret last night. Eris was…fun. A distraction, even. Perhaps you’d take him up on his offer, in the future.

“Next time you bring a male over, at least have the decency to sneak him out,” Azriel said from behind you, his face frozen with rage.

You laughed. Laughed, to your own surprise. “I dealt with centuries of you, Mor, and Cassian bringing people home. Cope.”

The finality in your tone seemed to piss Azriel off even more. “You even smell like him, for Cauldron’s sake.”

It was then that you realized you still wore Eris’s shirt. Again, you didn’t particularly care. “Good,” you spat out as you stood from your chair. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel when you smell like Elain.”

“Did you fuck him?”

You weren’t sure why he asked. He already knew the answer.

“What does it matter?”

“Did you?”

“Did you fuck Elain?”

Azriel went silent.

“Allow me to make one thing clear, Azriel,” you started, taking a step closer to him. “I am not yours. You are not mine. What I do, with anyone, is none of your business. Just as what you do, is no concern of mine.”

You ignored the way the bond hammered against your chest in protest. The way you could feel his hurt surging through you like a tidal wave. Good. Let him feel what you’ve felt for months, now.

Azriel didn’t respond. Typical.

You started to leave, but Azriel’s next words had your breath catching short in your lungs.

“I know about the bond.”

You weren’t breathing. It felt as though the floor had been swept out from under you.

You turned back around, facing him. “What?”

“I’ve known for almost a year.”

A year. He’s known longer than you have.

You couldn’t bring yourself to form a proper response—you could hardly think over the roaring in your head.“Then why would you—Elain—what?”

Azriel took a step forward, to which you immediately stepped back.

Azriel began, “There is no excuse—“

“You’re right,” you sneered, “there is no excuse.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Save it.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed. He reached out a hand, as if to caress your face. “Y/n—“

“Do not presume to touch me. Ever again.”

You hurried out of the dining room before you could further register the anguish on Azriel’s face.

The bond made you feel it all, anyway.

~~~~~~~~

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#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acotar smut #smut #female reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #Azriel smut #angst #Azriel angst #acotar angst

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gangplanksorenji · 4 months

Text

Kinknuary Day 9: Cunnilingus

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM Chaewon x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,156

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

--------------------------------------

She made herself clear, albeit it’s almost inaudible—she wants you.

You can’t blame her and you would do the same if you’re on her shoes—being physically deprived with her embrace and affection, even though you’re still in touch with her online, is a hard thing to endure since you missed each other so bad that once you’ve saw each other’s faces, you can’t help but run onto each other and envelop her with a warm embrace and to kiss her lips lovingly, as the cherry on top.

You can’t help but get lost, drowned into the sea of love because of her her endearing stare that makes you feel butterflies, let alone her honey-filled, sweet-toned voice that makes you melt every time she talks—you just love her so much that there’s no other person that can top off your adoration as much as you towards her.

“I meant it—I want you, now. I miss you so much that it’s driving me crazy everyday.”

You caressed her hair and cupped her cheek, as you responded, “I genuinely missed you too, Chaewon and now that you’re here, there’s nothing I could ask for.”

It’s genuine and she can feel it laced in every word you let go, and that alone makes her feel so much love that her emotions are starting to make her cry a little, shedding a tear as you wipe it swiftly with your finger.

“You don’t need to cry anymore, Chaewon-ah—I’m here now, okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m just—” Chaewon sniffs as her throat gets progressively dry due to the weightful emotions she’s into, but nonetheless, she’s feeling all positive and in pure ecstasy. “—overwhelmed right now, so, I can’t help b-but cry…”

She broke down again but this time, she buried her face onto your chest as you reassure and comfort her with your slow strokes onto her hair as she’s giving it all. “Chaewon-ah, it’s alright now, okay? I’m here and we’re not leaving each other anymore.”

She looks up at you with her orbs glistening with delight as she gleefully paints a smile, her cuteness making you smile contagiously in response as you kiss her forehead for further assurance. You know that she agrees with you with that, and will never leave your side but now, such unstoppable forces can’t be stopped as the wholesome moment was later turned into a heated kiss. It wasn’t aggressive nor slow but the passion behind every second you spent on the kiss was felt as you found yourself indulging into it deeper, unable to even pull out to gain some leverage or even fix yourself. With her initiation, you immediately reciprocate as you utterly missed the taste of her lips as you were deprived of it for months and months and no one can blame you for that.

“Wah—y-you’re skills never faded, hah…”

“Thanks to the girl that taught me how to do it properly.” You gave her an endearing look, signaling that you’re talking about her only and nobody else (jealousy would be the last thing you would want to see) and you stand by it, she made you this way and you’re thanking her always for that. It’s truly life-changing and such a grateful thing meeting a girl like Kim Chaewon—so down-to-earth, caring, loving, clingy and most of all, really thoughtful about who she loves, not to mention her utter respect for others as always.

Epitome of perfection, that’s what she is.

The both of you can’t contain your emotions against each other, so, this time, instead of her initiating another kiss, you did it yourself yet this time, it’s way different—her kisses are full of hunger and aggression, unlike from the earlier slow and passionate ones but hey, you’re not complaining but rather liking her insatiable side even more. Constant thuds resonate around the walls as the both of you fight for your hunger against each other and not so long after, you pressed your tongue onto her lips, wanting to increase the intensity of your kisses as Chaewon happily obliges, now her tongue battling yours in a dominant fashion.

Each second that passes are wild, sloppy sounds of exchanging dances of your tongues as your voiced out your satisfaction and faint struggle with little murmurs and small whines as so does is Chaewon, but hers in a much higher tone and god, the atmosphere quickly heated out as such assertive kisses inevitably emanates such steam (figuratively speaking, of course). You can’t fathom how great this feels, as always, not to mention such absence of hers are the constant fuels of delight and those soft, luscious lips alone are enough of an evidence. Maybe you’re biased coming up to such a positive conclusion but you didn’t care—you want her, no, you need her.

With further retaliation and eager combat against each others’ tongues, you pulled out of her mouth’s tight embrace as the both of you exchanged exasperated breaths and of course, such satisfied smiles knowing that such an incredibly hot act ends up on a great note.

“You’re hungry for me, Chaewon, hm?”

“Maybe, my stomach’s rumbling but I want you better than anything else, honestly.” Chaewon paints a mischievous smirk up her lips as you read her mind, instantly enlightened about her wants and of course, how insatiable you are for her that she’s craving for more, of you.

“You know how I can’t help it whenever I’m with you.”

“So am I, Chaewon.”

Insatiability was inevitable the first time you’ve felt such hunger within each others’ lips and now, you’re craving for more and yearning for your own desires and wishing Chaewon’s on the same boat as yours, too. You could never know what could be in her mind right now but you can sense the need in her eyes—those glistening, round orbs pleading for you only and god, it’s only within a single reach before you can achieve everything you've been abstaining from for months.

Of course, you know Chaewon can get easily embarrassed even with the tiniest, silliest acts so you didn’t really want to make a scene onto the airport’s restrooms even though the tiny room is considered somewhat private—you’d rather want to take this somewhere only just the two of you are capable of witnessing.

“Let’s go home, Chaewon, at your place, okay?”

Chaewon didn’t really formulate any reasoning behind your current halt of her needs and yours because she wants it rather in a more private way too, just like how you concluded to opt for that earlier.

“Yeah—I missed going home to my place too. Want to feel that atmosphere again and—” Chaewon teases her fingers onto your chest as she faintly buried her nail onto the clothed skin, “—you.”

You didn’t really think of much more as time is now considered a gem, more valuable than anything from now on…

---

Such preceding events grow in a substantial rate when it comes to affection and showing such signs of love and honestly, it’s growing exponentially off the charts, to the point that it should be elevated and further shown in actions and words. Well, those were the pinnacle of anticipation and you can’t handle what you’re feeling anymore as you wanted to confess everything you want with her.

Not just staying with just pure verbal words, but what you’d rather do with Chaewon.

“I’ve missed this, baby.” Chaewon parts your lips with affectionate kisses and then, painting a smile right after as her stern yet seductive countenance comes right after, turning you on.

“You don’t know how much I missed this too, Chaewon—like I can’t start off a morning without seeing your beautiful face and your…” You cup her waist as you progressively run your palm up to her plump backside, squeezing it gently as it earns a faint moan escaping Chaewon’s lips. “Body—your body, Kim Chaewon-ah—I missed it as much as I missed you.”

Of course, that earns a flustered expression from Chaewon, as her cheeks shades a rosy hue and so are her ears that turn faintly red. The feelings are mutual as you’re not even trying to hide it from her—you’re vocal on why you want her and how you want her. Her hands weren’t idle, though, as it coursed its way onto your toned abdomen and onto your chest, caressing it as she mutters, “Bet you’re utilizing my naked pics for your own pleasure, no?”

Inadvertently, you spanked her buttcheeks as she yelped and looked at you with her puppy-eyes, involuntarily pleading and whimpering for you, “Isn’t it obvious, Chaewon? I do that every week, thinking about you—being crazy and horny about you.”

She’s enlightened about the fact that you’re frequently driving yourself crazy with this epitome of beauty—the pinnacle of perfection, her, Kim Chaewon. Again, no one can blame you for this and it’s going to the point that it’s becoming unhealthy—obsession is a vice, you know it, but you just can’t help it.

“You naughty, horny boy—you must’ve been so needy before this, aren’t you?”

The techniques she uses everytime she wants to collapse your iron walls is just brilliant and amusing, almost like she knows everything to make you weak—the way her tone instantly changed from a cheerful then a seductive one, her uses of such pet names and most of all, that damn stare that could melt within seconds because on how attractive and seductive it can get.

She’s a lethal weapon and you’re risky enough to handle her, of course—you know her too well.

“Of course I needed you before, Chaewon but all I know is that—” You swivel deftly as you turn her, herself pinned against the wall with a loud thud as you regain the dominant side and continued, “—your holes needs some good filling or shall I say, some teasing, no?”

Again, the feelings that can be felt are obviously mutual as she’s getting turned on with your lustful choice of words, her biting her lip and letting out small whimpers are enough of an evidence to your conclusion. You always find each other hot but you got to say how much you’ve been craving for her since you met her in a warm embrace on the airport: black-colored nylon jacket that compliments her simple style of fashion of her black-colored one-piece dress of a long sleeve and those stockings that serves up an incredibly pristine, simple yet elegant look—of course she’s phenomenally hot with that outfit as it’s passively included there, as always.

Even with how elegant-esque and classy her outfit is, it’s better off on the floor as no image can top off Chaewon’s scrumptiously tight, little body.

“You know m-me, baby—now show me how it’s done.”

You take that as a green light as you immediately pull her for another intimate kiss, the two of you rumbling from the aggression initiated by the both of you but suddenly, she pulls out as she tells you something that’ll arouse you even further.

“I’ve missed you—and this cock, so please—I wanna taste it so bad.” Further needs should be assessed immediately, and you’re not the man who will take advantage of depriving her for something that she’s been longing for and you didn’t even get the time to command her to kneel down as she did it herself. With those eyes—those goddamn pleading eyes, you’re not even going to try and tease her and abstain her as you immediately undressed your bottom-half like you’re in a hurry, not minding such foreplay as if Chaewon wants it now, then she’ll get what she wants now too.

“Then come and get what’s yours then—it misses you too, and your incredible mouth.”

Of course your length does, not to mention how it’s already so rock-hard that when you pulled down your boxers, it almost sprung and hit her on the face. Chaewon eyes your cock like a meal she’s been longing for, examining every inch of it as her hands cupped the throbbing muscle, and then giving it such sluggish strokes and inevitably, you moaned, voicing out such faint pleasure.

“It’s still as big as I remembered it, baby—hope you'll give me a healthy load deep down my throat.”

“Well, I r-really haven’t released one for the past t-two weeks so, this should be great.”

She licks your leaking slit, collecting the precum eagerly as she gave you another mischievous look, almost feeling like she has a deviant plan up her sleeve, “I’ll make you cum like no fucking other, baby—you deserve it for waiting for such a long time.”

That you do, and it’s not even ego-centralized anymore—the both of you deserve such rewards from such hardships and deprivations, of course you’ll fucking deserve it—

And then, Chaewon just indulges into it, on the point of no-return.

She parts her lips onto your swollen cockhead and starts kissing every inch, letting you know how much she adores it as every kiss shows affection and lust over you. She also lathers your whole length with her saliva as she licks it like it’s her favorite ice popsicle that she can’t really resist. Every movement she does with her skillful tongue and tight lips releases serotonin all throughout your body to the point that there’s too much that you need to release such beautiful moans that Chaewon always wanted to hear—your moans also serve as fuel to further make you feel great and she’s really at her own league with this.

You never doubted her skills, even without your presence for months (you probably doubt this considering that she might be even practicing giving some blowjobs with her toys, thinking that it was you) and that’s one of her plethora of wonderful displays of her lustful prowess. Right from the start, whenever she hollows her cheeks for such an incredible suction up to the electrifying sensation of her tongue licks your sensitive head, it’s just a gift to experience her masterclass, no matter where she’s servicing you or what’s your mood—you’re just incredibly thankful on how gifted of a woman Chaewon is.

She never fails to amaze you, right away. Her beguiling eye contact with you in thrust she does with her mouth on your length makes you feel butterflies—you don’t even know if you’ll feel endeared with her orbs staring at you lovingly or just get totally aroused with the mess she’ve done and her eagerness in everything she’s doing to you—and of course, her feverish strokes and fondling of your balls would be the most treasured prize you could possibly earn and it’s just magnificent that you’re feeling it right now—you just love the fact that her strokes are constant whenever it’s giving you pleasure as she knows how to hit your sweet spots with alternating between sluggish and fast strokes, from base to tip that could certainly make any man cherish the moment and the way she fondles your balls with care is just adding gasoline to the flames as it stimulates you further and unleashes the hint of your masochistic side.

“Chaewon, your skills are still—fuck—god—s-so good…”

You compliment her from time to time knowing that it’ll further add up the ante of her pace and the quality with an already impressive service. Even when you avert your eyes to wander around the things that could possibly distract you from the peak pleasure she’s been giving you or even just to fight it alone, her marvelous work between your legs is more omnipotent to be ignored nor fought with. With that power, your hands immediately find her hazelnut locks as an outlet to try and fight the intense pleasure that has been coursing down your veins. With a newly profound action form you, Chaewon took this as an opportunity to further lower down your iron walls, wanting to collapse it on her feet as she quickens the pace, blowing you with just withdrawing with only the tip inside and then slamming back in, balls-deep inside her mouth as your toes curl from the pleasure—of course, she didn’t forget to even fondle your balls and swirl her tongue all over your swollen tip, maximizing what she can bestow to you as such pool of saliva is evident on how much she’s utilizing everything.

Her pace is now unstoppable, and you’re not in authority to stop her because you know how feisty she can get when she doesn’t get what she wants and you don’t want that to happen. Everytime you voice out your satisfaction, a visible smile can be seen from your perspective even when she’s not looking at you and solely focusing into giving you the maximum effort she can muster and that alone makes her feel butterflies, let alone your encouraging words that always makes her feel valued and it’s even better when anything is not sugar coated—everything is genuine, maybe it’s the fact that there too much pleasure coursing down your body that you’re biased but that’s the essence of giving such a spectacular service.

“C-Chaewon—fuck—I’m getting close—shit, I’m not g-gonna last that long.”

After, for like, six-and-a-half minutes (that’s your intellectual estimate but you didn’t care anymore) of an earth-stopping blowjob session, she pulls out and smirks at you, mocking you with her dirty talk and anticipating your long-awaited release. “Wow—I’m surprised you’re not cumming any sooner—now give that creamy, thick load deep down my throat, baby, please—I want it here—I w-want it deep down, please, baby—fuck—mmph!”

“Don’t worry—I’ll give t-to you ‘cause—fuck—I’m going to fucking cum deep down your throat!”

There weren’t articulate words escaping your mouths as the state of bliss is coming soon and to further assess each others’ needs (mostly yours), you buried your cock deep down her tight cavern of a throat as she gagged with your forceful actions, deepthroating you with one thing in mind—to paint her slutty throat white. It wasn’t long before you achieve your desired prize and with an unholy sound that Chaewon’s doing on your cock and the continuous release of such vulgar profanities, you erupt as her gags sends magnitudes of vibrations onto your throbbing length that it further sends you into oblivion. Thick, warm shots fill her throat as she tries to take all of it, tears streaming down her cheeks as the visible struggle was too much that she forcefully pulled out of your length and catches her breath yet with all of that, you knew she took you well as now all of your semen is now swallowed down to her stomach. Shs hums in delight with what you gave her and that’s a beautiful sight to see, and her saccharine tone is a pleasant sound to hear. Even with the disheveled mess she has gotten herself into, she’s still as beautiful as ever as every inch of her impeccable features are sheathed with either sweat, tears, makeup or her saliva.

Yet with all of these, you’re not the only one that’s going to win and get its needs attended—Chaewon has her own necessities, too, that needs utmost attention.

“It’s not just f-fair that you’re the only one who’s going to get off…”

You help her stood up, and then faced her, voicing that you know how this is going to end and you know how she’s as needy as you, “I know, Chaewon—you know that I won’t let my girl sleep without fulfilling her needs but, what exactly do you want me to do, though?”

Good thing you asked because she has a lot of things on her sleeve that she wants you to do but one must prevail, and she’s not going to suspend and make you wait any further. “Since I gave you some world-rocking blowjob, then, you must answer with an oral expertise, too.”

You, a clever guy, exactly knows what she wants you to do as you answer ahead of her further explanation, making her eyes lit in awe and excitement. “So, you want me to eat you out, hm?”

It was pretty obvious to formulate such dirty thoughts whenever she hinted at those words, and you’ll oblige to her wants now. Without any time to waste, Chaewon eagerly nodded as you read her mind pretty fast and sat down onto the side of the bed and spread out her legs a little, teasing you onto your desired needs.

“Such a little tease, hm, Chaewon?”

“You know you like this, baby—” She’s now stripping herself in front of you, putting on a show as she raises up her arms and undressed that one-piece long sleeve that complimented the hourglass figure of her body—that alone shows how tight her body could be as it never ceased to make you drool. Now, with that piece of clothing off her body, you noticed the set of her black-laced bra, supporting those scrumptious, perky tits and a black thong, that further compliments her already hot look, emanating even such a hotter one. “—but I’ll always know how much you like to eye my tight, little body, don’t you, hm?”

And she’s not wrong, your eyes eyeing her body like it’s a five-star meal is enough of an evidence.

The wink. Her voice. The kiss. Her thighs. The thong. Her—she’s just insatiable and you’re now voraciously down bad now with all the teasing she’s doing to you. As much as you admire the thong that’s making the atmosphere excruciatingly hot, you’d want it down because of such actions you need to attend. Chaewon seduces you with her sultry tone, encouraging you to indulge onto her as she spreads her legs and removed the thong down her ankles and god, you froze for a second within the sight of her delicious, wet cunt all over your eyes to feast on and it’s just utter perfection.

“Don’t keep your girl waiting, baby—eat my pussy—gah, oh fuck!”

You part your lips immediately with the green light that spilled out of Chaewon’s mouth and your tongue lets her know how insatiable she is. You swipe your tongue onto the heat of her slit as you make her squirm within just few licks and it is effective—the way that her body’s almost writhing with your tongue work on her juicy cunt marks that she’s enjoying this as much as you do (on a side note: of course, who wouldn’t want to relish off of such a perfect girl’s pussy?). With the constant swipe of your tongue to collect her nectar and to taste such a delectable pussy, Chaewon eagerly moans for more encouragement and as time goes by, she voices out the pleasure she’s feeling through a series of desperate mewls and needy cries. It was later all dissolved into intense pleasure, as she fights it by grabbing the back of your head with a tight grip on your hair, similarly identical to the leverage you made while she’s blowing you earlier.

“Moan for me, Chae—tell me how much you love my mouth eating your needy pussy out.”

She’s totally perplexed with the expression of skill you’re doing to her cunt as more juice leaks out and you eagerly collect it with one single swipe as your mouth treasures every single drop. With how much she’s leaking, you’re really unable to collect all of her dripping nectar yet you truly devour her cunt like it’s your last meal, not caring for the mess she’s making in your mouth.

Within such a calm and collective atmosphere are the needy moans and small whimpers that break the silent essence of the room, and gladly, it’s being blessed with Chaewon’s songs of satisfaction. You could tell how sensitive she is considering how her thighs are quivering in every truculent swipe you do on her folds with your tongue and that alone ignites the flame inside you to further make this worth her while. You increase the pace of your tongue and your mouth, as you add in series of kisses between your tongue actions and as well as humming, a vibration that can make any girl weak, down on her knees as Chaewon does so as her ragged breaths, tight grip on the bed sheets like her life means it, and her relentless squirming—each of these elements serves as a compelling evidence of being succumbed onto the ocean of pleasure.

“Come on baby, let it all out—tell me how much you love this—”

“F-Fuck, you don’t know how–gahh—much I missed this! Fuck, y-you’re—fuck—ahh, s-so good at it.”

You lap the juices at her leaking folds as your fingers now take a turn to rub her clit to further stimulate her, “Of course, Chaewon—nobody is doing this better than I do and I’ll make sure that—” Your tongue find its way to collect more of her sweet nectar as she moans in response, satisfied with such sinful acts you’re doing onto her clit as you’re not done with your so-called narrative, “—you’re going to have one hell of an orgasm and that’s thanks to my doing.”

And, you make that promise come to life as you quickly swipe your tongue and finger her clit until she squirms out of oblivion and yes, it’s working effectively. You alternate between sealing your lips tightly onto her folds, licking her labia and collecting those treasure prizes, which is her nectar and the fingering of her clit which makes her brain go haywire. Wanting to gain a better leverage on eating her out, you commanded to lay down on the bed and relax herself and unhesitantly, she does what she’s been told as you further bury down your face onto her heat and god, this new, profound position is way better than earlier. Such sultry, erotic moans and needy mewls that escapes Chaewon’s heavenly mouth fuels the lust inside you, further diving into your animalistic urges as every second that passes is just treasured and cherished, more so on Chaewon’s side.

“Oh fuck—that’s so good, baby—don’t fucking s-stop—fuck!” Chaewon exclaims her blissful trance that sets herself onto submission, further fighting the gradual increase of pleasure coursing down her veins as she tightens her grip onto your hair, nearing those nails down your scalp as a leverage. Your constant pace and momentum is now an unstoppable force as you find yourself even indulging onto the sea of her nectar and her succulent folds even more—you’re now hypnotized with her pussy, can’t be stopped as your only aim is to make her satisfied enough to make her approach her own orgasmic state, in which, with the constant clenching of the walls of her pussy whenever you insert your tongue, you can tell how near is she and you’re helping her for that since she deserves it, right from the start.

Well, this is another thing to note for. Why? Well, she’s not usually like this whenever a steamy session gets initiated by whoever party it is because she’s more likely a switch that alternates onto being dominant and submissive but this is the wonder behind it. Maybe, it’s also the fact that she became overwhelmed with lust and joy that she didn’t care what roleplay she must put in but just succumbed herself to her needs, and it’s just evident.

She’s peak submissive now, and you’re loving it. Maybe, all it takes is your hungry mouth to get a taste of her succulent juices and to be in contact with her needy folds.

And, she’s about to get her hopes up and her high oh-so-near—

“I c-can’t take it anymore, baby! I’m g-going to explode all over your face—all o-over your fucking face, baby—fuck—ahh!!”

She flicks the switch as the devil comes out to play, and she utterly succumbs to her carnal needs as a sinful moan signals the start of her orgasmic trance. She tightens her grip onto your hair as you bury your face onto her wet cunt, her pussy starting to spray such the paramount of her release, the treasured prize that the both of you deserve—such saccharine nectar filling every inch of your face. Every spurt she blesses your face with comes with a moan that adds to the symphony of sinful sounds that filled the entire room earlier, and it’s such a tremendous display of afterwork that you’ve exerted such effort into. You insert a finger while she’s still on her orgasmic trance as the wet squelching of your fingers spurts her nectar out like a fountain and soon, the inevitable has come into an end and Chaewon catches her breath, exasperated with what you’ve done and what she indulged into.

“God—hah—b-baby, that was—hah—so, so fucking good I can’t—hah—wow, you did it s-so well…”

“And you tasted good, baby.” You wiped the plethora of nectar that she blessed you with as you tried to catch everything but in the end, you were deemed unsuccessful.

“I c-came so hard—fuck… I never t-thought it will b-be—hah, this good…” Chaewon further articulates what she felt as the euphoric essence of her orgasm earlier was making her extremely exhausted, her chest heaving for air shows that she’s slowly recovering from her high. Of course, a mild remark of concern paints your face and your tone, scared that she came a little too hard that it may cause some problems but gladly, there weren’t any signs of that.

“I told you, Chaewon—I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.” Chaewon’s ears weren’t deaf, as your words provoked her in the minimal bit, her lightly punching you from your mocks but as much as she’s going to be a hypocrite (and she won’t be), she’s not going to lie about the fact that you made her reach her high way up above, over the limits.

“I f-feel… exhausted, baby—I just wanna sleep now…” You then joined onto the bed as you can see her drowsy eyes, half-lidded as she felt a little too exhausted and overwhelmed—you can’t blame her for that if she felt everything was too fast and euphoric that it just hit her like a truck, and you’d want her to recover further because you value her the most than anything or anybody in this world.

“Then let’s go and sleep, baby—” You then got up to the bed and fixed yourself, ready to go to the bathroom until a snap of a thought enlightens you, wanting to ask Chaewon something before you do anything else for yourself, “I’ll be cleaning myself first, though, how about you?”

She didn’t respond as you can see her already sleeping soundly. You didn’t bother to break that and wake her up, so, you just coursed your way into the bathroom, wanting to clean off the filth that was bestowed to you earlier.

You pay each other with your own coins, and it ended up favorable for the both of you, but this just can’t end like this, on an anti-climactic matter—

Well, maybe, when she wakes up tomorrow or whenever she’s down to do it… And you’re there, to pay another price.

#kinknuary 2024 #le sserafim smut #chaewon smut #kim chaewon smut #le sserafim x male reader #chaewon x male reader #kim chaewon x male reader

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azsazz · 2 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 21)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,850

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

You haven’t spoken to Azriel since the morning you woke up in his bed alone.

Which, granted, has only been one day.

You’d spent the rest of your Sunday confused, rerunning the previous night over and over and over again until your head hurt with it. You thought that you and Azriel had started anew, if the passionate sex you’d shared the night before was anything to go by. But when you woke, the sheets beside you hadn’t even been warm and the note he’d left you seemed scrawled in haste, like he’d barely had the courtesy to do so on his way out the door.

Something important came up, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. Please don’t be mad, princess. I’m coming back to you. —Az

He’d left his number but you’d left the comfort of his bed, slipping back into your dress and collecting your things before doing the ultimate walk of shame next door. Really, it’s much worse than the last time you’d snuck out of his apartment. You’d been hungover then, caring mostly about not throwing up in the hall or waking Azriel, but by the silence of the apartment as you made your way out, there was no need for you to be quiet.

It left you only with the aching between your thighs and the mottled bruises painting your skin purple.

That night was better than a dream. You would’ve never thought that you and Azriel could work past the lingering feud you’d started the year with, and you hadn’t realized how draining your constant grudge had been. It turns out that getting over yourself and under him had been the best thing that could’ve happened for your relationship.

His touch burns your skin long after you’ve showered him off. You can still feel him between your legs, fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he held you still for his taking. The feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing yours, everything that he’d done to you last night, clinging to your very being as if he’d tattooed himself across every inch of your skin.

Maybe you should’ve listened to his note. You could have easily stayed in his bed all day, with how comfortable it is, but as the minutes trickled by, the paranoia set in, eating at you until you’d had to flee.

Feyre hadn’t asked any questions when you slipped into her room after your shower. She’d welcomed you with open arms, a sad look in her eyes as if she knew exactly what happened. And maybe she did; maybe she heard you like you heard her, but you hadn’t cared, only snuggled up to your best friend's side as she put a movie on her laptop for the both of you to watch.

She knew you would tell her in good time.

It hadn’t stopped Azriel from blowing up your phone. He must’ve stolen your number from Rhsyand or Cassian, or perhaps he even told them what happened because message after message after message lit up your notifications, pleading for you to answer your phone like an incessant alarm.

Princess…it’s Az. Where did you go?

Do you want some waffles? There might still be some ice cream left before Cassian finishes it all, but with the spoon he’s found, it won’t last long.

Can I please explain?

And finally:

I can hear your phone buzzing through the wall. Please answer me.

You hadn’t replied to those, nor any of the ones that followed. You half expected him to come knocking at your door, but Feyre had noticed your poor mood and told Rhys that the two of you were having a girl’s day and not to bother either of you.

You could’ve both kissed and been upset with her for that.

You wanted that explanation from Azriel, but you also wanted him to fight for it. Let him come knocking, let him ask you in person to explain. Who finally gets the girl and leaves her to wake up alone? Especially after all of the things Azriel had admitted to you…

Monday morning is much the same. You’d successfully avoided seeing Azriel on your way to campus, and as much as you tried focusing on your drawing course, none of the shapes you were drawing turned into anything great.

You’d expected it to be bliss, to get your mind off of every little nitpicky thing you keep thinking about from that night. Feyre and Lucien’s presence helped some, but when the class quieted down for a drawing exercise and you were left alone with your thoughts once again, they naturally drifted back to yesterday morning. Maybe you had misread Azriel’s intentions and he was only looking for a one night stand. You did make the first move, afterall.

It was all a jumbled mess in your head that could only make sense if Azriel explained it. And now you’re once again thinking that you should have stayed…or at least texted him back.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Lucien asks, startling you from your thoughts. The tip of your charcoal cracks against your drawing pad and you frown, staring at the black chalky marks on your fingers. You frown, shoving the immediate thought of Azriel from your head and tilt your head up to meet Lucien’s concerned gaze.

You offer him a forced smile. “Yeah, sorry, I was zoning out a bit. I’m fine.” You hadn’t realized that class ended and everyone is packing up their things. Feyre’s over by the drawers, stowing her pad in the one you share. Lucien doesn’t look like he believes you, but he stays silent while you hastily pack your supplies away, grimacing at the drawing you’d been working on.

You don’t check your phone. You’d already woken up to multiple messages from Azriel this morning, asking to walk you to class and explain. Luckily, you hadn’t run into him on your way out the door, tearing down the staircase with a confused Feyre trying to keep up.

Lucien and Feyre are talking about where you should all head to lunch when the three of you leave the building. Alis had announced another assignment, and the premise already hangs heavy on your shoulders. The instructions were left loose enough that you have once again no idea what you’re going to draw for it. It’s infuriating, how everyone else just seems to know immediately what they’re wanting to create when it takes you weeks to figure it out, and then when you do, you’re changing your mind again and again, worried that nothing is good enough.

You run smack into Lucien’s back while you’re lost in your thoughts. Your friends are three steps out the door and your nose stings from where you’d hit it against your friend. Lucien hardly even seems to notice, his mouth set in a straight line and he and Feyre stare directly ahead.

At Azriel, who’s leaning up against the railing. He looks so nervous it’s almost as if he doesn’t even go to this school; doesn’t walk into the same buildings or around the same campus. His thumb is tucked into the strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, and the other is stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket. His black hair is tousled but not from the wind, from the amount of times he’s nervously run his fingers through it.

You watch his golden eyes flick over Feyre and Lucien, darkening as they rove over your copper haired friend while you step out from behind him. He instantly finds your gaze and they soften, and then he’s pushing off from the railing and making his way towards you. Your face heats because this is the last place you thought Azriel would corner you. In public.

“Hey, Azriel,” Feyre greets, glancing over at you. You shake your head softly but keep your gaze pinned to Azriel who strides closer like he no longer has a care in the world. It’s a front and you know it.

Azriel nods politely, but he doesn’t break your stare. “(Y/N), can we talk for a minute?”

You feel Feyre’s confused blue eyes burning into your skin. The way that she slides her phone from her pocket like she’s trying not to make any sudden movements is not missed by you nor Azriel, but neither of you seem to care that she’s seconds away from messaging Rhys about this. You wonder if he knows, if Azriel had admitted anything to his roommates about you, about the night you shared together.

Lucien is tense, shoulders coiled tight. He’s almost glaring at Azriel but it doesn’t faze the onyx haired boy in the least, like he’s a speck of dust on his shoulder. Nothing can deter Azriel, of this you know. Somehow, he’s just as stubborn as you are, and the soft look in his eyes, pleading with you, makes your stomach twist.

“Sure,” you find yourself agreeing. You turn to your friend so you don’t have to witness the relief on his face. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. And I’ll see you in Art History, Fey.”

“You better,” your best friend mutters, already tapping away at her phone. She drags Lucien by the sleeve because he doesn’t seem inclined to leave you alone with Azriel despite you agreeing to speak with him. Azriel looks like he’s going to bare his teeth at the boy. “Come on, Luc.”

You start down the stairs of the building, going the opposite direction from your friends. You can feel Lucein’s sun and moon eyes on you as you walk, but you don’t turn around to look.

Azriel catches up to you in two great strides. You don’t know where you’re going, fine with waltzing around campus while you talk. You might need to text Feyre to bring you something to eat during class, because you’re getting hungry for lunch.

“I don’t like him,” Azriel mutters, and you can tell by the tight grip he has on the straps of his backpack.

“I don’t think you like anyone,” you respond, not unkindly, but it’s not a friendly remark either. It’s strange almost, to be seen with him in public not only after your public feud, but the night you’d spent together as well. It feels like a dirty little secret has come to light, and you don’t like it.

Azriel glances at you sidelong, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “I like you.”

You snort because he doesn’t even know you, not really. “You didn’t even like me two days ago, Azriel,” you start but he’s already shaking his head in disagreement, denying your accusations. “And with the way you up and left me in your room, I’m thinking there’s still a possibility that you don’t even like me now.”

He stops you with a gentle hand on your elbow, turning you to face him. You stumble at the suddenness of the move and it puts you a step closer to him than you’d like. His grip on your arm isn’t firm or demanding, it’s a soft caress that matches the pleading look in his honeyed eyes.

“Please,” he murmurs, and you can see just how much your avoidance has been bothering him. His fingers tremble along your arms and when you look down at them he pulls away, nervously tucking them into the pocket of his hoodie. It makes something in your chest crack a little. “I can explain.”

“Explain, then,” you answer simply.

Azriel shifts on his feet, glancing around. There are students milling about and you should probably keep walking or at least move out of the way, lest the both of you get mowed down by someone late to class or a biker. “Here?”

You quirk a brow.

He sighs a little, exasperated. “Can I take you somewhere? How about lunch?”

You study him. It’s clear that he wants to explain to you, and he looks just as stressed out about the situation as you are. And you really do want to hear what he has to say for himself, if his reason for leaving you is forgivable…

“Fine,” you relent, and his shoulders drop a notch. “But I have class this afternoon and I can’t be late.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is the kind of place that you walk past and don’t go in.

The outside is a smidge better than decrepit, with its peeling paint and uneven sidewalk. There’s graffiti on the side of the building, tags you can hardly ready with how curvy and obnoxious the letters look. One of the windows has a shade, but it’s hanging by a thread and looks more like a hazard than not, and the rest of the windows are bare, sunlight pouring into the yellowing casement. You wouldn’t even know the place is open with its rusted neon sign so broken and sad.

But Azriel guides you in through the door with a hand on the small of your back and you blame the shiver that travels up your spine on the blast of cold air that hits you in the face when you step over the threshold.

Maybe you’ve been a little harsh on its exterior appearance because the inside is tidy. The air smells like greasy burgers and crunchy fries, and there’s a shiny jukebox in the corner playing an oldies song you think you’ve heard at one of Cassian’s parties once. Well, you heard it through the wall when the entirety of said party belted it at the top of their lungs and not even your headphones could block out the noise.

There’s an older man sitting at the counter and a girl who looks to be about your age behind the counter. She’s smacking her gum and doodling on her order pad, a half abandoned milkshake melting in the red cup beside her. She doesn’t even look up when Azriel leads you towards a booth, and you slide in opposite him with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, nervousness flicking through his eyes. He hesitates to sit down, awaiting your response.

“Nothing,” you assure him with a soft smile you don’t feel is genuine. “I didn’t even know this place was here, really.”

Azriel all but slumps onto the electric blue seat, eyes sparkling with delight. Your heart rate picks up at the sight of the little grin he offers you. It’s nice to see this side of him, happy and relaxed, in his element.

You wonder how he looks when he’s concentrated on a drawing, or a tattoo.

He’s got them covered up with his leather jacket today, though the tips of those coiling shadows around his collar bones peek out from the neckline of his black t-shirt and you think about how much you were coiled around each other the other night, skin to skin.

Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you look down at your lap.

“It’s great,” Azriel explains, slipping out of his jacket. You wish you had paid more attention to the artwork marking his skin the night you spent together but there hadn’t been much time to with the way you were all over each other, and he wasn’t around when you woke up. “Been coming here since freshman year.”

You’re about to respond when the waitress you’d seen arrives, slapping two menu’s down on the funky patterned table. You startle with the motion and shift uncomfortably when Azriel all but glares at the girl. She doesn’t seem to care though, flipping her stark white hair over her shoulder with a sneer.

Her brown eyes flit over you like you’re a piece of her chewed gum stuck under the table, then leans her hip against the edge of the table, flipping her order pad open. “I already know what you want,” he says haughtily to Azriel, and then those piercing brown eyes are on you, pinning you to your seat like it’s a trap from Saw. “What will you be having?”

“I, um, I’m not sure yet,” you stutter awkwardly, because you’re confused. Who is this and why is Azriel acting like this is normal? “I need to look at the menu.”

She rolls her eyes and the silence that ensues makes your face grow hot, sweat bead at your hairline. She crosses her arms over her chest, popping a bubble with her gum, and it’s as if she’s waiting for you to look at the menu and decide right now. You send a pleading look to Azriel whose jaw is ticking with annoyance.

“Give us a minute, will you, Cresseida? And let Rita know I’m here. Thanks.”

With another eye roll and an annoyed “Whatever,” Cresseida all but stomps away from your table. Your eyes trail her until she’s around the counter and pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

“She seems…lovely,” you mutter, fingering the corner of the menu where it’s bent. “Seems like the kind of place you would’ve taken me when we didn’t like each other,” you tack on, squinting at the small font. Why are there so many items on the menu?

“I’m sorry about her,” Azriel blurts, and you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen him blush. It’s unfairly adorable. He offers you a hand, face up, and you can’t resist that look in his eyes, how he’s offering you his scarred hand instead of hiding it. With a short huff, you place your palm on his and he immediately intertwines your fingers, holding tight. It makes you blush. “She’s always been cranky,” he peers over his shoulder like she might be standing right behind him. “I promise, Rita is much nicer.”

You give him a forced smile because honestly, you’re not sure what else to say to that. You’re not even sure you’re all that hungry anymore, with Cresseida’s off putting attitude and the nerves that are gnawing on your stomach from the talk you’re about to have with Azriel.

You busy yourself with looking at the menu. There are way too many options and not enough time to decide because a short, stocky woman is trapezing her way around the countertop and towards your table, her eyes glowing with joy.

“Azriel, what brings you back so soon? Oh—and who is this lovely lady?” Her eyes fall across your intertwined fingers and she fails to stifle the beaming grin that appears on her red lips. You can tell that she’s a gem by appearance alone, but also in the way that she looks at Azriel, like he’s the son she’s never had. You can’t help but to smile at her. Her round face is flush with a permanent blush and she looks like the kind of woman you’d love to hug.

“Rita, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Rita, the owner of Rita’s Diner.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you greet eagerly, trying to pull your hand away from Azriel’s to shake her hand. He doesn’t let go, and smirks at the glare you shoot his way.

“(Y/N) as in…” Rita trails off, flicking a glance at Azriel. You narrow your eyes at him, curious as to what he’s told her about you. She continues, “As in your girlfriend, Azriel?”

You almost splutter, cheeks going red hot at her insinuation.

Azriel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, admiring the color to your cheeks and the shock in your eyes. “Not yet.”

Not yet.

But maybe soon, when he finally explains himself.

Rita winks at him and you really want to bury your face in the menu right now.

“What can I get for you, darlin’?” Rita asks, her voice sweet as cherry pie.

“I don’t know, there are so many options…” you trail off, sending a pleading look towards Azriel. “Almost too many to choose from.”

Rita’s chest swells with pride and Azriel snickers.

“Cass prefers the pancakes,” he supplies, “But I think the waffles are better.”

“Pancakes, it is,” you beam, handing Rita back the menu. Azriel glares playfully and Rita seems positively overjoyed as she makes her way back to the kitchen.

Your smiles fade with Rita’s cheerful attitude and it’s all too soon that you’re aware you’re holding Azriel’s hand and he still hasn’t explained. You look at him and he’s already sighing. There are dark circles under his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, and you can tell that he hadn’t slept well last night either.

Azriel strokes a thumb across your knuckles and your tense shoulders ease a bit. The embarrassment you’d felt when you woken up alone in his bed has simmered with his eagerness to explain to you what happened that morning, but you’re still feeling a bit tender about it, especially when you see the pained look on Azriel’s face.

Whatever had happened hadn’t been good.

And you feel like a fool when he answers your question lingering between the both of you.

“The reason I wasn’t there that morning was because my father was in town. He came to see me.”

You try to swallow back the sudden rage boiling up from your stomach. The man who’d let his step-sons burn Azriel’s hands. The one who doesn’t want him to follow his dreams, his passions, when he clearly has the skill to do something amazing with them. The one who didn’t even visit him that night of the incident.

You squeeze his hand and Azriel seems to relax, understanding your forgiveness. Your throat is still tight when you respond, forcing the word out. “Okay…”

It gives him room to continue, even though Azriel looks like he’d rather face Cresseida’s wrath again.

“He found interest in purchasing and renovating our apartment building.”

You blink, not sure you’ve heard him correctly. “What?” You tack on, defensively. “Why?”

Azriel shrugs. To keep me in fucking check. He sighs as if the tremendous weight on his shoulders is two seconds away from crushing him completely. You don’t like that frown on his face and you don’t like his father.

“He thinks it’s a good investment opportunity, I guess.”

You don’t like the sound of this one bit, and Azriel agrees with you.

“And if he does buy it?”

Azriel shakes his head sadly, “No more neighbors.”

You didn’t think the thought of not being his next door neighbor would hit you so hard. Your chest aches with the idea of it, no longer sharing a wall. Even though you despised it at the beginning, you’ve gotten used to and even like the fact that you share a wall now.

Rita comes back and sets a plate of hot pancakes in front of you and a stack of blueberry waffles in front of Azriel. Everything smells delicious and your mouth waters at the sight of the thick pat of butter melting its way across the top of your breakfast.

She places a milkshake between you and Azriel, and there’s no missing the two neon colored straws sticking out of the top. You blush, thanking her.

She winks in response. “Enjoy, you two.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthrongirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#acotar #midnight muse #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au #artist!azriel

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0deadly-nightshade0 · 4 months

Text

Broken Him

summary - You change his mind

warning - mention of abuse! (not coryo)

Coriolanus Snow would not marry for love, he wouldn’t allow himself to be so vulnerable, so weak.

Love makes people delusional and it once made him deluded.

Lucy gray

that name wrang in his head like an unstoppable fire alarm, his feelings angry, yet betrayed, sad? all he knew was that his firey feelings towards her made that fire alarm ring on and on.

So he married the person he cared the least for his.

His little wife.

His little wife that doted on him, that spent all her days, every minute, every second trying to please him.

He didn’t love her, he couldn’t,

Always stood at the door, waiting for him to come home, her pretty little pink 50s swing dress on, ballet flats adorned with bows, a row of pearls around her neck, resting gently over her collar bones.

She was happy.

She had to be.

There was no way, after marrying someone like him, much more attractive, higher rank, smarter.

A man who gave her anything her naïve little heart wanted.

A massive estate, bags, dresses and more.

Coriolanus walked in, expecting to see his darling wife stood by the door.

Nobody.

I look of confusion crossing his face.

“Wife?”

He somewhat shouts.

He walks along to her bedroom, cracking the door open slowly.

There you were.

his brows furrowed as he watched you take a long drag of your cigarette.

Your mascara running down you cheeks.

like watercolour paint.

continuing to water down, and dry in streaks.

the ash on the end not flicked off.

a glass of red wine in your hand, much different from your usual light sweet alcoholic drink.

You looked a state.

“Something on your mind?” He asks walking in, sitting next to you on the window seat.

You seem startled, shocked at his presence.

“I’m fine” you respond flatly, the moonlight illuminating your sad face in a way that makes him feel something.

not good.

“I know when your lying” He smirks, his piercing blue eyes examining every part of you.

“I could say the same for you” You snap, though your voice isn’t loud, and it shows a hint of sadness in it.

Coriolanus looked surprised, his little wife being so? so rude to him.

His faced shifted to a serious one, his eyes narrowed a little.

“Watch your tongue, wife.”

He knew what this was about, his love for you.

he could feel you slipping away from him.

“We both knew what this was. I don’t need to love you for us to have a successful marriage”

you start to stare out the window.

“I don’t want a successful marriage, I want someone who loves me.”

He was like a deer in headlights.

and it all started to dawn on him.

his sadness earlier at you not being by the door.

seeing you sad.

he was falling for you.

and he couldn’t let himself.

“I-I can’t love you” It was more an admission of defeat than an answer to your want.

“I know you can’t, but it was cruel for you to choose me and leave me in the dark about that, you don’t know the life I’ve lived, and you don’t know how you’ve ended all my hopes”

‘Shit.’ you thought.

stupidly you had brought your past into this.

He almost looks confused.

“Why the hope of love? Don’t you understand it makes you weak? and vulnerable?”

You think for a moment, how to explain love to a person that wishes not to be loved.

“But you have been loved, had people around you love you, you’ve had many people love you, it doesn’t make you weak it makes you stronger, having constant people in your life who love you and are willing to do anything for you”

Coriolanus was trying to see what the disconnect between to the two of you was.

“That love is a weakness because love is also a vulnerability. The people who you love the most are also the ones who can hurt you the most. If I love someone fully with my whole heart they also have the potential to completely destory me”

Lucy gray. that name pinged in his head again.

“Tigris? would she do that? Grandma’am? would she do that? no. Whoever has hurt you before didn’t love you, atleast not strongly. that I can say with one hundred percent certainty.”

you look over at him, giving him a sad smile.

that you were correct about.

his walls felt like they were crumbiling down.

never had he viewed her with such a high opinion.

that was a fair assumption.

one he hadn’t made.

Coriolanus pauses, Tigris, his cousin, did love him. And he was never worried about her being someone who could hurt him, because she couldn’t.

It was one very rare time coriolanus had been beaten in a debate of words.

“How do I know you wouldn’t do the same?”

“Because I couldn’t, I’ve loved someone, and the way they treated me, made me vow to never hurt anyone that loves me.”

“to treat people the best I can”

She couldn’t?

“I would feel to guilty, but I can’t force you into loving me”

Coriolanus paused again. You sounded similar to himself but instead of vowing to treat people the best he could, he had instead vowed himself never to love.

You were alike in so many ways, yet complete opposites.

how was this innocent little woman doing this to him.

he felt vulnerable.

“Who hurt you?”

“My father, he was very physically abusive, and I albeit atupidly, still loved him, but I vowed never to hurt someone who loves me, to never break them like he broke me”

Coriolanus took in your words, he couldn’t Imagine what that was like, still putting other first after that.

so kind, so pretty, and slightly smart.

“Aren’t you afraid of love hurting you again?”

you had to think.

“Nobody will ever love me, I barely leave this estate, you don’t love me, and I have no friends”

He did that.

and he felt awful.

he wanted you to himself, even if he didn’t love you.

listening to her words.

Coriolanus looked at his wife for a moment, contemplating his choices.

His marriage felt superficial compared to everything else he had dealt with before.

He married her becuase she was easy, innocent, naïve.

he had broken her.

and she had broken him.

“Kiss me”

He blurts out.

“C-Coriolanus I can’t, I won’t push you to do that kind of stuff.”

You shake your head.

Coriolanus took notice of your refusal.

“I ordered you to kiss me, now kiss me”

he says.

you gingerly graze your hands against his cheeks, kissing him softly.

Coriolanus felt his entire body warm up, you were like the water that set out all his firey thoughts.

The entire world could burn to the ground around you both and he wouldn’t care.

Your lips, your hands, your face, your body, he flet like he was in heaven.

You had broken him, and he was glad.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 🎀

#tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #yandere coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #nympette #dollette #lana del rey

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secretivemessenger · 2 years

Text

Harbingers Lover

Fatui harbingers x Male reader

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: OOC harbingers! Blow job! Begging?! Pet names-puppy! (Pantalone)! Body worship! Rough sex! Possessive behavior! (Childe)! Degrading! Power bottom reader! (Scaramouche)! Edging! Sex toys! Clones?! (Dottore)! Rough sex! Marking! Sex coaching?! (Capitano)! Rough sex! Overstimulation! Implied multiple orgasms! Dilf! (Pierro)!

- fatui harbingers relationship headcanons

^Pantalone^

——————————————————————————————

You know i have to start with this man , he has me on chock-hold the moment he showed up on screen

Pantalone is a very busy man since he has alot of business deals to take care of , and he has to take care of the northland bank that is know to be the biggest bank in teyvat , so he barely have anytime to spend with you his own lover

That’s how it’s usually like with him , since he’s very busy most of the time to show you his affection he does it through material gifts

But when he does actually have some spare times for you he would definitely spend every minute of it with you , he would either spend it with you in his room or taking you out shopping

We all know that he the richest man in teyvat , quite literally and that just means that everything you ever desire shall be yours , if he can’t show you physical affection he will buy you stuff

want new clothes? Theres a cabin full of em ready for you , you wanna a place to stay? don’t worry tons of mansions are ready and set for you , new jewelry’s accessories he got it all to you

He’s literally a sugar daddy , a gentle and sweet sugar daddy , but it’s not always like this with him , if you ask him for things most of the time he will be happy to give them to you but if he’s feeling a bit tipsy or frustrated he will have you beg for them

Oh no would you look at that you just spent all the mora you had on you so you went straight to him asking for more , what you didn’t expect is him asking for a price back to give you the money you need

The last thing you expected is to have pantalone’s cock stuffing your mouth , slurping noises come out every time you moved your mouth

You looked up at him with puppy eyes hopping it would somehow change his mind on this but he simply gave you a smile as he pat and ruffled at your hair

“Come on now i know my good puppy can do it”

You whimpered around his cock when you realized your begging won’t work on him , and now your only solution is to please him so slowly but surely you started bobbing your head taking a bit more with every push

You easily gag at his cock but you continue to suck at it like and obedient little puppy , whining and moaning like a good slut would do waiting patiently for him to paint your throat white with his cum

^Tartaglia^

——————————————————————————————

The second one has to be our favorite ginger

He may not be as rich as pantalone but he can definitely give you everything you want , even if he somehow doesn’t have the money for them as long as you want them then whatever you want is gonna be right at your hands

And unlike the busy Pantalone childe has alot of free time on his hands , and you better believe he’s gonna sped every second of it with you , He just want you to be happy , to see that beautiful smile that gorgeous laugh , he just want to please you his precious boyfriend

He likes it when you make those adorable noises when he’s fucking you , the cute moans you scream out when he’s balls deep inside you , the faces you make when he fills you to the brim with his cum

And he would be so proud know that he’s the only one who can see and make you like this , know that you belong to him only

You felt like you body was getting completely destroyed , with every rough thrust from childe as he had you in mating press

You legs spreading wide open as childe seated between them , his hips moved violently against your own his cock stretching you more than you ever thought you could take

“Does it feel good getting fucked with this cock that you love so much”

He continued to rearrange your insides with his big cock all the while observing every little expression you make , all the loud screams and moans just encouraging him to move even faster

And all you could do is cry about how good it feels to be fucked by him , how well his cock rams into your prostate , hitting it straight on with every thrust it just feels soo good

^Scaramouche^

——————————————————————————————

This man is a degenerate motherfucker , how did you even managed to get together with someone like him

He’s a very hot headed person who can easily be frustrated weather your his lover or random fatui agent , he would get angry at the most random things he just wants a reason to scream

amongst all the harbingers he’s the hardest one to deal with , especially when he has one of those tantrums that he throws around when things don’t go his ways

But you somehow always managed to calm him down , maybe not in public but if your alone in his office and he starts yelling you know the exact way to shut him up

Just push him to the ground and stuff his cock in your hole and no more words will come out of him , all you would hear is his pathetic little whines saying how much he thinks your bad while showing the most lewd faces

“Yo-you fuckin- ugh.. whore , don’t even-know how to-hyuaah”

Despite his degrading words towards you , despite his attempts on trying to deny how good it feels he still couldn’t act well , no matter how much he says he hate it he just keeps moaning loudly like a slut

He couldn’t stop squirming around as his cock was being buried deep inside your hole , he laid still as you rod him so well hoping up and down on his cock , you hole being stretched on his cock

No matter how many time he tells you to stop moving you keep on going knowing damn well that if he really hated it you would be dead right where you sit

slowly his yells would die down , completely lost in the pleasure that is your warm hole around his cock , and without noticing his hips would thrust up in rhythm with you , and in no time he would start cumming inside you none stop

No matter what he says your truly the only one who can get him to be like this

^Dottorr^

——————————————————————————————

Now aren’t you just an interesting boy , to make even someone like this man to feel things that he shouldn’t be able to feel , and it just started his curiosity

The more time he spend with you the more curious he gets , it came to the point where he’s obsessed to know everything about you , the moment he laid eyes on you was the moment of no return

Dottore is a doctor who lives off of his researches , whats he’s most know about are actually his researches , and when you two got together it gave him an opportunity to actually make his own research on you

And that exactly what he did , he tested your body and mind with everything he had

Tying you up and edging you for hours on end just to see how long can you last before begging for him , fingering you to see how many times you can cum before you become empty

He even invented some special toys with the help of sandrone , and just who’s the perfect person to test them out-you his dear lover

But but but isn’t that alot of work for one person , not to mention how busy dottore actually is but thankfully he has his little clones to help him out test the new products

One , two , three dottore’s surrounded you every one of them being a different version of him , same look different age and two of them is holding a different toy , or thats what dottore called it

You were being played with like a toy , as two of them were doing *tests* on you while the third and most recent dottore was taking notes , asY our hands were tied up by a rope hanging from the ceiling making you stand still without being able to move

A toy with taking the shape of a dick was wrecking you hole so roughly by one of them , and it just happened to be a vibrating one isn’t that just great , and another vibrating toy was being pressed onto your cock

And all you could do is squirm around , your legs was shaking badly and your body couldn’t stop trembling , but that was just the beginning the night is still long and dottore still has a ton of toys to try

“Look at your holding on so well , do not worry the fun won’t be ending anytime soon”

^Capitano^

——————————————————————————————

Capitano is a very hopeless man on the romantic side , how did you get him to love you is still a mystery to others

Affection is a very hard thing for him to show , not that he is shy or anything he just don’t know how to or what that is to be honest , but thats why your there to teach him

At first you’ll teach him the simple things starting with dates , “a date is where you go out with your lover” is what you said and big boy capitano took that too personally and took you outside the fatui Headquarter in the freezing cold and just stood there , and he even had the audacity to call that a date

And thats when you learned that if you wanna teach him something you need to be as specific as you can , and thankfully your words work as he took you to an actual restaurant the next time

He loves you he really do he just don’t know how to love you you know , but little by little he learned and thats when you started teaching how to really love you

Teaching him the ways to get to you , the things that gets you hard , the ways you like to be touched , the spots that gets you over the moon when their hit , and in no time he knows your body more than you do

“Is this good , does it feel good when i ram this spot”

He asked you like he always do as he fucks into you roughly , you threw your head back crying about how good it feels , praising him telling him how good he’s doing

You wrapped your legs around his waist locking him up which resulted in more rough pounding from capitano , it just makes you cry out even more

His naked back full of scratches left by you , he even commented how your like a little mad kitty which completely took you by surprise by the way , but it made you comment on how capitano himself is like a dog since your body was completely covered with bite marks

And he took that personally , which made him start pounding you so roughly you felt like your hole would get ripped apart , never make a snarky comment while having sex with capitano , another lesson learned

^Pierro^

——————————————————————————————

This man is a total dilf and you can’t convince me other wise , even if he doesn’t have kids just by his appearance alone gives off huge dilf vibes

He’s literally rumored to be a survivor of Khanria’h which means he’s over the 500 already , you better believe he had relationships during his life which automatically make him the most knowledgeable harbinger between his colleagues

He knows how to take care of someone , even if he is busy he’ll always make enough time for his lover , he would always take you to unforgettable dates and even more unforgettable nights

He know exactly how to work your body , the places that feels good he knows them all , he’s truly the best at pleasuring you

Oh how quite was he compared to your loud shameless cries , but you can’t help it it just feels too damn good , the way his hips snapped against your own how slow but deep they are

The hands you had on the mattress couldn’t hold on anymore as you fell face first onto the bed with your ass still on air , he will have you cumming multiple times from only him pounding your tight hole before he himself cum

It well take long for him to cum when he does you’d be to overstimulated to even speak , oh boy if you think your done after he came once you are so damn wrong

“It must’ve been hard to hold on that long , think you can go for a bit more”

🏷.TagList: @vyloy @gaybitchfx

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aemondsbabe · 3 months

Text

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?”

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.”

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home.

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well.

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it.

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement.

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was.

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk.

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it.

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face.

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you.

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings.

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly.

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does.

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin.

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks.

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor.

“A… A great victory, master!”

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare.

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?”

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you.

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall.

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded.

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –”

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately.

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always!

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything.

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts.

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.”

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow.

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours.

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad.

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer.

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet.

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone.

A kindness, even now.

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly.

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.”

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head.

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers.

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot.

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter.

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace.

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow.

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.”

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.”

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them.

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way.

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill.

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again.

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?”

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip.

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his.

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same.

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you.

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers.

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself.

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises.

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples.

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm.

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold.

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine.

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking.

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives.

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason.

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his.

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm.

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend.

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine.

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her.

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion.

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore.

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now.

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again.

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you.

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say.

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly.

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close.

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew.

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips.

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you.

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else.

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet.

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

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strang3lov3 · 10 months

Text

Tis’ But a Scratch

Kinda brat tamer/dom! Joel x stubborn fem Reader

Summary: when you’re injured and refuse to accept Joel’s help, he decides to adjust your attitude.

W/C: 4.3k

Warnings: brat tamer joel kinda, dom!joel, smut, rough sex, blowjobs, orgasm denial. Slight dubcon. Degradation. A little bit of fluff, implied age gap, spanking, cream pie, a bit of come play. Descriptions of injuries, but not too bad! I’m super squeamish and was able to stomach it for the most part.

A/N: based on this request by @speckledemerald ! I had a lot of fun with it and did not expect it to take this turn, but you guys know me well enough to know I’m a sucker for some rough Joel smut!

Master list

As always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated. If you like this story, let me know! I am thankful for each and every one of you who support my work ❤️

The slam of the kitchen door behind you makes you jump, you feel your blood running cold. Joel’s an angry guy, but you’ve never been directly on the receiving end of his anger. At least, not this much anger. He is fucking pissed.

“Coulda’ gotten us fuckin’ killed. You realize that, right?” Joel spits out at you, chucking his backpack on the kitchen island sharply. You startle at the sound. His eyes are piercing and full of anger when you look at him. Hatred, even. You feel your heart drop to your stomach, fearful and full of guilt. “You never watch your fuckin’ back. Always dawdling or somethin’ else. You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”

He’s right. You know he is. “We’re fine, though. I was handling it,” You don’t know if your words are meant to be a comfort to him or yourself.

You and Joel were in an old store on patrol together, going through it to see what supplies you could scrounge up. Joel was constantly scolding you for not keeping up with him, not watching your back at all. He was sick of babysitting you, he told you. Too old for it, he said. You rolled your eyes every time he complained.

So yeah, handling it. That’s what you’re sticking with. When a raider snuck up behind you and your back was pinned to him in a bone crushing embrace, his knife pressed into your side. And all you could do was kick and scream for Joel and thrash your body. Handling it.

“Yeah?” he asks you, his tone sarcastic and full of venom. “Had it all under control, is that right?” Joel is pacing around the house, making sure there’s no other raiders or clickers. This is a known safe house, far away from any civilization.

You and Joel spent plenty of time here together, often playing cards or just talking. The last time you were holed up here together, he watched you closely. The way your eyes traced his face, how they traced every line and curve of his muscled body. You thought you hid your desire, but Joel knew better. He knew just how you craved him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you spit back, enunciating your words harshly. You’re lying, you know it and so does Joel. The truth is, if Joel hadn’t shot the raider in the head and dragged you out of there, you don’t know if you’d be alive to be having this argument right now. But you’ll never tell Joel that.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ a goddamn river into the fuckin’ floor right now,”

Your brows furrow. “What are you–” you trail off, eyes darting to your side. You didn’t think the raider actually stabbed you. You lift your shirt, and nothing. But then it catches your eye.

The adrenaline must have kept you from realizing what happened to you. The raider managed to knife the top of your left thigh pretty good, a long cut all the way across. You couldn’t tell how deep it went or what. “Fuck,” you mumble.

“Blood everywhere. You know, that’s pretty fuckin’ close to your artery, genius,”

Don’t remind me, you think. Blood was never your strong suit. You press your hand into your thigh, your eyes flutter shut and your breaths become shallow when you see the liquid crimson painting your palm. Quickly, you walk to the couch in the living room and sit down with your head between your knees. You’re getting dizzy. “Just a scratch,” you mumble, to him or yourself, you don’t know.

“Get back here,” Joel barks at you. “You’re hurt. And I ain’t finished with you.”

You really don’t need Joel punishing you more than you’re already doing to yourself. You can’t take any more of his disappointed and angry looks. Any more of his words that cut so deep inside of your body.

“Fuck off,” you whisper, trying to compose yourself. Your vision is going spotty as you unbutton your jeans and push them down your legs, wincing as the rough fabric brushes over your wound. Your head is getting fuzzier, and Joel’s shouting something about other raiders being there at the store but you can barely understand him. He sounds miles away and underwater.

Joel follows you into the living room, reaching for your leg once he meets you at the dingy old sofa. It’s a dusty rose color with yellow and blue flowers. You kick his hand away and grit your teeth at the action. It fucking hurts. “Leave me alone, Joel. I’m fine,” your voice is weak and your eyes are getting glassy. Your lips lose their color. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” you pant.

“Oh, shit,” Joel whispers in realization, watching you lose yourself. He’s seen it all before. “You’re faintin’ again.”

Again.

You really didn’t handle blood well.

Once, Joel accidentally sliced his hand open trying to open an old can of fruit. You watched the entire thing and fainted right in front of him, ended up falling flat on your face. You have a scar on your chin from that night, now.

He spent the evening trying to bring you back to earth, feeding you the old fruit to get your blood sugar back up. Grumbling something about how you need to get it together if you’re gonna continue to be his patrol partner.

“No, I’m not,” your voice is barely above a whisper. You can’t admit defeat, admit that you should have been more conscious of your surroundings back at that old store, or else you wouldn’t be moments away from unconsciousness right now. You absolutely cannot let Joel win.

Joel lets out a deep sigh and crouches in front of you, trying to remove your hand from your thigh. You fight him, still. He can’t wrap his head around why you’re being so. Fucking. Stubborn.

“Stop it, Joel. I can take care of myself,”

Joel just grabs your wrist again, moving it away. You don’t have the energy to fight him off this time. “Let me see,” he mumbles. He takes in your injury, then leaves to grab his backpack. Once he’s situated, he begins his work. “Don’t need to be so proud. You’re hurt.”

He begins by pulling out a bottle of alcohol. You reach forward to take it from him, do it yourself. Deny him the satisfaction of picking up the pieces of the mess you’ve made of yourself, yet again.

He glares at you. “Knock it off,” he says gruffly. But you don’t, you just wiggle and avoid his touch. Pull away from him and push into his stomach with your foot. “Quit your squirmin’, for fuck’s sake. Too goddamn stubborn, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your cheeks go red at the pet name, your squirming comes to a halt. Joel takes notice of the effect his words have on you. “So that’s what it takes to get you to behave, hm? Call you sweetheart?”

He’s testing the waters…curious.

“No,” you lie. Yes.

There is an immediate change in the room, a tension between you and Joel in the atmosphere. It’s palpable, like you could reach out and grab it. Feel it between your fingers, even. Hot and heavy and impossible to ignore.

Joel reaches forward, covering your eyes with his hand. “Keep those eyes closed f’me, sweetheart. Don’t look. That’s it, now,” He removes his hand and your eyes are still closed, you know better than to look at the gore of your injured thigh. He continues, “Need to pull these pants down some more, alright?” You nod lazily in response, he pulls your pants down your legs and nudges your thighs apart. The cut goes further inward than either of you realized.

Joel gets to work then, dumping a bit of the alcohol over your wound. You groan and cry at the pain. It brings you back from your state of near-unconsciousness. “Fuck, Joel,”

He tries to ignore the little moans and fuck, Joel’s you let out as he disinfects your cut. “I know, I know,” he croons at you. “It’ll be over soon. Promise.”

He reaches for a rag and dumps some of his canteen’s water on it, then gently scrubs away the blood. He starts on the outside of your thigh and washes the blood off of your skin.

And then it happens. White-hot sparks of electricity deep in your core.

He reaches the inside of your thigh and accidentally brushes your center, covered only by the thin cotton of your panties. You let out a gasp in response.

“Sorry,” Joel mumbles. “Your wound is real close to yourself there. Might happen again.”

“No, it’s okay. I trust you,” you reply. And you do, but a part of you is hoping he touches you again.

“Doin’ so good f’me,” he mumbles, and his words have an intoxicating effect on you. Does he know what he’s doing to you? How he’s making you fall to pieces?

It does happen again. And again. And each time, you let out little gasps and moans. You almost wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, but you don’t mind. You wonder if he knows how aroused you’re getting with every brush of his fingertips.

He works for a while longer, then wraps up your wound with gauze. “All better now, sweetheart. I was feelin’ nice for some reason and didn’t torture ya with stitches, but I’ll check on it later and we might need to do some. Depends on how it’s holdin’ up, but I’ll be gentle if it comes to that,” He says softly, apologetically. His words are his olive branch extended to you, his apology for being too harsh with you in your injured state.

“Oh, how kind,” you bite back. And just like that, your feistiness has returned, you’re right back to being your stubborn and sarcastic self just like before. And you don’t really know why you build your walls back up, but you do. You’re not gonna take any pity from him. His words echo in your mind. Too proud. “I would’ve been fine without all your help, you know. And I won’t need any when we get back, so drop it.”

Joel’s soft gaze leaves and is replaced by another fiery look of offense. “Oh, fuck you. Jesus, would it kill you to say thanks?”

“Fuck you!” you spit. Joel blinks when your saliva hits his face, he wipes it from his cheek, then examines it on his palm. Slowly, he meets your eyes, his gaze dark and lustful. The tension in the air strengthens, you feel your heart begin to beat rapidly. You didn’t mean to spit on him, but you’re gonna stand your ground and not take any of his shit.

Joel rises to his feet, so big and radiating power and masculinity above you. “You wanna try that again?” he asks, his voice is low and dark, lacking any semblance of amusement.

“I, fu-” you stutter out. Your confidence is beginning to dwindle as you choke out, “Don’t need your fucking help. Don’t need to be a part of your fucking savior complex.”

Joel laughs dryly. You’ve really pissed him off now, you can see the pure hatred in his eyes. They’re icy cold, piercing right through you. “You’d better swallow your pride before I shove it down your throat myself, sweetheart. Sick of this attitude, you fuckin’ brat,”

“Make me,” you retort, challenging him. “How’re you gonna do that?”

You wonder just how far he’ll push you. What boundaries he’s gonna test…

“I don’t think you wanna find out, sweetheart. Not gonna be nice about it, I promise you that,”

“Big surprise,” you snarl, “There’s not one nice bone in your body. You’re a fucking ass–”

“Gonna start by fuckin’ that pretty mouth of yours, teach you a lesson,” he interrupts you. His voice is cool and collected, you watch his hands make their way to his front, he palms his growing erection. He eyes you questioningly for a moment, using them to ask you sincerely if this is okay. If it’s too much. You nod, understanding his silent question. He nods back.

You open your mouth to speak, but Joel wastes no time shutting you up. “You suck my dick like a good girl, and maybe I’ll consider makin’ you come. But I’m not feelin’ very generous yet,”

“What are you talking–” you trail off, watching Joel unbuckle his belt with his swift and deftly moving hands.

“You’re drippin’ for me, darlin’. Didn’t think I noticed? Could practically taste it,”

Your body betrays you and you let out a whimper at the thought of Joel’s tongue in your pussy. How he’d explore your folds with the firm and wet muscle. Joel chuckles in amusement, freeing his cock from the constraint of his jeans. He takes one imposing step in front of you, his thick and hard cock is held loosely between his thumb and his pointer and middle fingers.

“Not so tough now, hm? Not when your pleasure’s on the table, I see. Selfish fuckin’ brat,”

“Joel,” you moan. He shuts you up by shoving his cock in your mouth in one swift motion, your lips part around the soft and smooth flesh of his tip. He’s slow at first, making sure you can take it. When he’s satisfied with your readiness, he shoves it as far down your throat as you can comfortably take.

“Fuck, that’s all you needed. God, sweetheart. You’re so much nicer with my cock in your mouth, you know that?” he groans, his hands finding your scalp. He tangles his fingers through your hair and pulls gently, when you moan he tugs your hair roughly.

You hum in response, wrapping your hands around his upper thighs and squeezing his ass. He pushes them away with force. “You just don’t get it do you, you poor dumb thing? You take what I give you now, girl. Don’t be greedy,”

His words send pangs of desire through your body, you’ve never been so aroused in your life. His cock is hard and heavy on your tongue, and with each powerful thrust of his hips your nose nudges that tuft of dark hair surrounding his member.

“Fuck,” he hisses through gritted teeth. Your eyes are blown wide, tears pricking the corners. There’s spit dribbling down your chin and you look completely fucking ruined.

The dull ache between your thighs grows stronger, and ever so subtly move your hand to your center. Or so you think. Just before you can press your fingers to your clit, Joel pulls his dick from your mouth and grabs your wrist in a vice grip.

“God, you just don’t fucking learn, do you? I told you to suck my dick like a good girl,”

“I did, Joel,” you whine in protest. You move your other hand to your center in hopes of relieving the pressure, but he grabs that one too.

“God, you’re dumb. No, you didn’t. You didn’t listen, didn’t take what I was givin’,” he yanks you up by your wrists, drags you to the arm of the couch and shoves you. Hard. “So I’m gonna take what I want from ya now. And you can cry and beg as much as you want, and I still won’t let you come. ‘Cause you can’t follow simple directions.”

Your stomach drops, you realize just how serious he is. He’s gonna use you and toss you aside, leave you crying for release. “Joel,” you cry. He’s breaking you down.

“No point in cryin’ now. Just shut your mouth like a good girl and take my cock,”

You move to face him, but he turns you back in place. “Bend over,” he demands.

When you don’t jump at his command, he shoves you again, forcing your chest down into the arm of the couch. He roughly tugs down the fabric of your panties, and then you feel the sting of his big hand striking your ass, red hot pain spreading over your cheeks. “Fuck,” you yelp in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Shut up,” he tells you sternly, massaging the stinging flesh of your ass. It’s a gentle reminder he’s still here. “God, you’re stupid. Poor thing. How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet?”

You let out a moan in protest and he smacks your ass again. “Spread your legs. No back talking, now. Be a good girl and open wide for me. That’s it,” he croons as you shuffle your feet apart.

He drags his cock through your folds, purposely stopping just before your clit, denying you any sort of relief. He slips the tip of his cock in your pussy, then without warning, pulls you onto his cock. Hard.

You cry out and he shushes you, reminding you to keep quiet. He repeats the motion again and you bite your lip to keep your noises suppressed.

He fucks you with both hands on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin, surely decorating you with bruises. The room is filled with the noises of his heavy breathing and skin slapping skin, as well as the wet squelching of your pussy.

“Fu-” you start, moving a hand to cover your mouth.

“That’s it,” he breathes in approval. “Quiet.”

You bite back moans, feeling your stomach tighten. You’re getting close, just need a bit more.

His cock begins to pulse inside of you, his once calculated thrusts now sloppy and frenzied. “Feel that?” He asks. “Gettin’ close, now. Almost over, sweetheart. See what this pussy’s doin’ to me?”

You can’t help the wail that falls from your lips. You’re in agony, you need to come. And after this, you don’t know if you’ll be able to relieve yourself. Your fingers will never compare to his cock, you’ll never be able to match the pace or power with which he fucks you.

“S’matter, sweetheart?” He taunts you. “Breakin’ the rules again, you know. Do I need to remind you how good girls act?” He rubs a hand over your ass in warning, tapping his fingers on the swollen and still stinging flesh.

You shake your head no. It’s painful, the way he’s punching into that sweet spot deep inside you. So close yet so far from your orgasm.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I want you to nod your head yes or shake your head no, got it? Still don’t want you makin’ any noise,”

You nod in anticipation of what he’s going to ask of you. He’s still fucking you at a punishing pace.

“Been thinkin’ that you’d look real pretty comin’ all over my cock. Don’t you think?”

You nod again.

“Unfortunately, baby, you’re not allowed to. Which is a goddamn shame, of course,” he mumbles, his thrusts coming to a slowed pace.

He continues, “I was thinking if you said the magic words, I might make it all better for you,”

You whimper at the prospect of release, then quickly swallow your moans.

“You know those words, right baby? Please, thank you. Manners,”

You nod again, pushing your ass back into his groin. He swats at you with his hand, but not terribly hard. Just a gentle warning.

“Maybe all of this could have been avoided if you said ‘thank you Joel’. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position, practically beggin’ me to let you come,”

You nod in response, not willing to argue any longer. “Say thank you for my cock down your throat. Did you a favor, anyway. God knows you needed to shut up,”

“Joel, fuck. I need to come,” you rasp out, breaking his rule.

“Say thank you, sweetheart. Come on now, mind your manners,” God, how sexy and low his voice is.

You don’t thank him. Not yet. You won’t thank him, not until he breaks down every ounce of fight left in you.

He slaps your ass once more, then moves his hand to your clit, gingerly rubbing light circles into the sensitive bud. Teasing you. “Thank you, Joel,” he instructs you to say. “Thank you for your cock.”

You ignore him still.

He pulls you off his cock, whips you around to face him and looks deep into your eyes, notching the tip of his cock in your pussy once more. He begins pushing all the way in. “Say it.” He says in a taunting tone, elongating his words. His thumb is on your clit again, and he’s thrusting in and out of you slowly. “I’m givin’ you an out here. Just say those words f’me.”

You groan in frustration. Are you really going to give in?

“Come on, sweetheart. Know you need it. Look at the fucking mess you’re makin’, needy thing. Soakin’ my cock,”

And there it is again, that sickeningly sweet pet name he so affectionately calls you. Fuck it, you decide.

“Thank you,” you whisper, finally. Repeating what he wanted to hear you say for him.

“For what?”

The words kind of just slip out of your mouth, “For taking care of me,” you admit.

Joel’s movements falter, and he looks at you with a puzzled expression. It’s not at all what he thought you were going to say, what he wanted you to say, but nonetheless he’s pleased that he’s managed to fuck away some of your pride. He just smirks knowingly, pulls you in close and kisses you.

It’s sweet and slow, he’s taking his time massaging your tongue with his own. “Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he murmurs against your lips, fucking you again. He’s rubbing concentrated circles into your clit and continues. “Not so hard, hm? Just listen to me and let me take care of ya. However I want.”

You nod feverishly and pull yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His skin is hot and sweaty under your fingertips, the circles he’s tracing into your clit have your stomach tightening and your face contouring in pleasure. You’re right there, he can feel it. He’s not far behind.

“You earned it, baby. Let go now,” he whispers, hot breath tickling your ear.

And with that, you come harder than you ever have. His ministrations on your clit don’t stop, he keeps fucking you through it. “Joel,” you moan. “Oh, fuck. I’m there, I’m there.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. Ride it out with me. I’m right there with ya,” he assures you, his thrusts becoming frenzied as he chases his own orgasm. His neck and cheeks are flushed red, and in mere moments, he’s pulsing inside you, spurting hot and thick ropes of his seed that paint your insides. It’s a delicious feeling, one you’ve been craving for a while now.

He’s panting on top of you, his forehead pressed to your own, slick with sweat and sticky hair. You’re still holding onto him for dear life, catching your breath. He pulls out of you slowly, watching the mixture of your come drip on to the rosy couch. He pushes it back inside your worn pussy with his fingers, then brings them to his lips and licks them clean.

You giggle, your head dropping to his shoulder. He holds you like that for a moment, letting you steady yourself.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” he speaks softly. “Didn’t mean to get out of hand. You okay? How’s your thigh?” His voice is full of concern, his hands on either side of your face. His eyes are sparkly and the darkest brown, the crease between his brows a little more prominent than usual. “Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me. I liked it,” you admit sheepishly, assuring him that everything is okay. You’re slightly embarrassed. Who knew you were such a freak? “My thigh is…I’m fine, I promise. It’s just a scratch.”

He says your name sternly, shooting you a warning look. “Let me see it. Can’t trust you,”

“Fine,” you concede, biting back a grin. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t flattered by his concern, the way he’s fawning over you.

He bends down in front of you, gently pulling back the gauze. Your wound is a little irritated in the rigorous fucking you and Joel participated in, but was mostly okay. He decides to clean it and wrap it again in new gauze, telling you he’s not wanting to risk infection. “So,” he starts undressing your wound. “Gonna listen to me from now on, right?

You nod your head. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off, “I know you didn’t. Just need you to be careful, okay? Need you to listen to me. I’m lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,”

You wince in pain when he dumps more alcohol on your wound. “I just…I can take care of myself, you know?”

“I know you can. I know,” he says. Part of him wants to argue more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he silently works, wondering why you buck him on this, why you refuse to ask for help or admit you may need it. Whether it be on patrol or when you’re hurt, or fainting in front of him because you can’t handle a bit of blood. Thank god you’re never on nursing duty at the infirmary. He won’t press you anymore, though.

You share a moment of silence together, both unsure of what to say. What does this mean for your relationship in the future? Joel finishes wrapping your wound, and helps you stand up on shaky legs. He dresses himself, then tosses you your clothing. When he reaches for your pants, his hand falls through the massive hole on the thigh from where the raider knifed you

“Just a scratch, my ass” he mumbles, you hear the smirk in his voice. “Just a flesh wound, right?”

You smile as he tosses you the tattered jeans. “Yup. Just a flesh wound,” you say as you dress yourself again.

Joel leads you to the door, silently letting you know it’s time to get back to Jackson.

“You don’t even understand that reference,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Jesus, kid.”

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @spideysimpossiblegirl

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #dom!joel miller #brat tamer!joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #Pedro pascal #tlou

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lewisvinga · 3 months

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carmen | lando norris x fem! reader

summary; y/n was addicting to everyone, the boys and the girls. lando was just another one in her path to become ultimately addicted.

warnings; mentions of sex, drinking, drugs, reader is sometimes referred to as carmen by others

notes; lana ate w carmen

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

f1 masterlist !

“Who is that?”

“Carmen?” Max questions after Lando had gestured to a girl standing by Lewis. Her long blown-out hair, the red dress, and the matching red lip immediately caught Lando’s attention when they stepped into the club to celebrate their podium.

“Her name is Carmen? Like George’s girlfriend?”

“Not really, it’s Y/n, but many people call her Carmen,” Max shrugs. “She’s friends with Lewis though, I see her often in these kinds of scenes. Quite popular in Monaco.”

“Really?” Lando questions with a raised eyebrow. “Never heard of her.”

“Yeah, good. Everyone, they all like Carmen, obsessed with her even.” The Dutch driver began as they made their way to where the other drivers were. “But she hooks up with everyone and leaves them heartbroken. So be careful.”

The McLaren driver shrugs in response, keeping his eyes on the topic of the conversation. Something about her made him attracted to her. Possibly it was the way she would throw her head back when she laughed at a joke Lewis said or the way she’d flip back her long locks.

Lando simply couldn’t keep his eyes off her even when he was at the front of the dance floor in front of the DJ stand. Y/n had noticed him staring earlier at night and standing near him. The Brit signals her to come over to him.

Her red-painted lips curled into a smile, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached him. “You’ve been starin’ all night.” She says with a melodic laugh.

“Can’t help it when I see a girl like you.”

“You’re a special one, Lando Norris,” Y/n says with a raised brow and a smile. The Brit flashes her his signature smile as he pulls her closer by her waist.

The rest of Y/n’s night was spent by Lando's side, even while he was DJing. Even if girls tried to gain his attention, she stuck out and shone like a diamond. No one could get him to move his eyes from her.

Later that night, they were walking hand in hand back to his home. All it took was her batting her cartoon-like eyes for Lando to rush out of the club and drag her out. “So, what do you do for everyone to be obsessed with you?” The McLaren driver curiously asks.

Y/n lets out a laugh as she shakes her head. “Just street walking by night and a star by day, and y’know lookin’ for fun and gettin’ high for free.” She says with a shrug, her heels making clicking sounds as they hit the pavement with each step. “But trust me, you don’t want to get this way. It’s tiring.”

And she left it at that. Lando was still intrigued by her, thinking they had something special between them. He didn’t listen to what Max had told him and he invited Y/n to his hotel room where they spent a very restless and lust-filled night.

The bright sun shining in his eyes caused Lando to wake up with a groan. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up against the headboard. He turned to the side, expecting to see Y/n but instead saw an empty spot beside him.

She left without a trace. Her clothes, shoes, everything about her was gone like she had never come to his room. He makes a mumble of curses as he reaches for his phone, remembering how they exchanged numbers.

He immediately pressed on her contact. It led straight to voicemail.

Lando lets out a frustrated groan, now realizing what Y/n’s reply to his question meant. He finally understood why she was called Carmen after a certain song, since all the boys, the girls, were all obsessed with her exactly like how he felt.

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #lando norris scenarios #lando norris x reader

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such-expensive-mistakes · 7 months

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Superpham AU (part 4)

Original prompt + parts 1-3

Masterpost

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It's not the most awkward dinner Lois has ever had, but only because she's dined with literal supervillains before.

Danny is poking at his Mongolian beef with his fork more than he's actually eating it. Lois can hardly blame him; it’s been a difficult few days for her and she’s not the one who just landed in a different dimension from the one she grew up in. But Danny certainly isn’t up to keeping conversation going.

Jon is making a valiant effort, but he seems distracted. He keeps shooting looks at Lois and Clark when he thinks they’re not looking, and while he recounts everything he and Damian got up to (not too much trouble, thankfully, although that wasn’t saying much), he’s less enthusiastic than he would normally be.

Clark keeps shooting Jon worried looks when he thinks Jon isn’t looking. Lois will have to ask him how that conversation went; it seems like it was rough on both of them.

Eventually, even Jon runs out of things to say, and the four of them sit around the table, eating their Chinese takeout in silence.

“So, Danny,” Lois finally says. “I don’t know how the dimension you grew up in differs from this one, but if you have any questions about anything, please ask one of us.”

“It’s not that different,” Danny says. “I mean, it is in some ways, but it’s still Earth, you know?”

Lois isn’t entirely certain she does, but this doesn’t seem to be the time to ask. Maybe when things are less fresh.

Jon has no such compunctions. “What’s the biggest difference?”

Danny looks thoughtful. “You guys have a lot of superheroes here,” he finally says.

“What kind of superheroes did your other world have?” Jon asks eagerly.

“We mostly didn’t,” Danny says. “I mean, I guess Phantom kind of counts. But that’s it.”

“That’s it?” Jon is clearly flabbergasted by this. Lois fights a smile, and she can see Clark doing the same thing. Jon has never known a world without the Justice League, but she and Clark can both remember when superheroes were much, much rarer.

“Most people probably wouldn’t even count Phantom,” Danny says. “The kids mostly did, but a lot of adults didn’t trust him because he was… because he wasn’t exactly human.”

Combined with what Danny said before about that interdimensional portal, this is painting a picture Lois really doesn’t like.

“There are folks like that everywhere, unfortunately,” Clark says. “And you can’t always change their minds. But I believe most people are better than that."

Judging by Danny's expression, he wasn't entirely convinced of that. Lois couldn't blame him; she has enough trouble seeing the good in people the way Clark did, and the other dimension sounds worse than hers in this regard.

Danny doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it any further. Silence lingers for just a beat too long before he speaks. “Oh, the sun’s yellow here. That’s different, too.”

-----

The front door slams, shaking the house, and Jon scrambles into the kitchen.

“Where’s Ma and Pa?” he demands.

Kon mentally says goodbye to his tentative plans for the day. Not that he minds hanging out with Jon, but he’s clearly upset about something. Kon’s good at a lot of things, but emotional conversations is not one of them.

“They’re in town for the day,” Kon says. “You’re lucky they didn’t hear you slam the door like that.”

“Did you know about Danny?” Jon demands.

“Who?”

“Dan-El.”

Clark texted a couple of days ago, telling Kon to call when he had time. Kon has been putting it off, knowing that Clark has better ways of getting in touch with him if there’s a real emergency. That’s starting to seem like a mistake.

He doesn’t answer Jon right away, which Jon seems to take as its own answer.

“Did everyone know but me?” Jon demands.

The thing is, Kon is pretty sure he's not supposed to know about Dan-El. Lois and Clark have never breathed a word about him in Kon's hearing.

He only knows because he spent an afternoon helping Ma go through some old boxes up in the attic and found a box of photos-- mostly of Clark as a kid, but some of Ma and Pa when they were younger.

"Oh goodness," Ma had said, when she'd notices what Kon was looking at. "I keep telling myself I'm going to organize those and put them in an album, but I never get around to it."

She'd sat down next to Kon and looked through the pictures with him, pointing out her favorites and telling stories to accompany them. ("And that one was from just after Clark's tenth birthday-- we had to get a new door because his strength was just coming in and he broke the old one.")

Then Kon had pulled out a photo of a toddler, sitting on the front porch with Pa. He'd thought it was a picture of Clark at first, but Pa's hair was considerably more gray than it was in the pictures from Clark's childhood, and Ma had just told him that the porch had been rebuilt and expanded after Clark broke the old one in tenth grade.

"Oh, that's Daniel," Ma said. She'd gently taken the photo from Kon's hand and ran a finger over not-Clark's face. "He was our first grandson-- Lois and Clark's oldest." She'd gone on to tell him the whole sad story.

There's a small headstone for Daniel Kent in the Smallville cemetery, right next to Pa's parents. Kon thinks it must have been Ma or Pa's idea; there was no body to bury and as far as he knows, Lois and Clark never visit it.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Kon says. “I think it’s just not something they talk about.” Jon doesn’t look convinced, so he adds, “They told you now, right?”

“Only after he showed up!”

“Wait, what?” Kon is starting to think he really should have replied to that message from Clark.

-----

Not for the first time, Clark wishes there was a handbook for this sort of thing. But oddly enough, parenting manuals generally don’t cover how to talk to your long-lost son about his alien heritage. He’s put this off long enough already; Danny had spent most of the previous day out with Lois, picking up all the necessities he didn’t have.

“So…” Danny says, kicking his feet a little. He’s sitting next to Clark on this skyscraper, his feet dangling over the edge. It makes Clark a little nervous, seeing how Danny can’t fly yet, but he also knows he’s fast enough to catch Danny if he were to fall.

"Lois said you're an alien?" The words are softened by the blatant curiosity in Danny's tone, and Clark remembers Lois recounting how excited Danny was to meet J'onn and to see space from the Watchtower.

It's a sentiment Clark can understand. He's traveled through space and met aliens both hostile and friendly. He regularly meets with his colleagues on an orbiting space station. And yet, seeing his adopted planet from space still fills him with awe.

"When I was born, my parents— my birth parents— already knew our planet, Krypton, was dying," Clark begins. It's not an easy story to tell, but the grief is old. Not gone, but distant. It's a place and a people he will never know except through stories and the archives in the Fortress— but those, at least, he can share. He tells Danny this, too, and promises to take him to the Fortress soon. It would be easier if Danny could fly, but he'll make it work.

"You should talk to Kara, too," Clark adds.

"Who's Kara?"

"My cousin. Right now she's in space, on a Justice League mission, but you'll meet her when she gets back. She was a teenager when Krypton was destroyed; she has firsthand memories." He’ll save explaining the part where she got caught in suspended animation for later; he’s dumped a lot of information on Danny already.

“You said something the other night about yellow sun radiation?” Danny asks.

“It’s what gives Kryptonians our power, here on Earth,” Clark says.

“And what powers are those, exactly?” Danny seems more hesitant than Clark would usually expect of a teenager finding out he’s going to develop superpowers— but then, they already know Danny grew up in a world where that sort of thing was feared and looked down upon.

“Enhanced sense, enhanced strength and speed, flight, invulnerability— there are others, but those are the main ones to expect.”

Danny nods thoughtfully.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #superpham au #fanfic #dc x dp fic #the continuity for the supers gives me a headache so I'm sticking with the origins I know best #slightly less angst this time #slightly more setup for Shenanigans

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panxramic · 14 days

Text

Missa cubito ohmygod today’s stream was SOOO.

Firstly, I haven’t talked about this but the fact that q!Missa has finally accepted the family home as his home too makes me want to snob. The fact that he calls it HIS home too, after spending so long distancing himself and saying that he doesn’t deserve to live with them? It makes my heart spin. And yes he still has his movements of self doubt but he knows now that this is his home and this is where he will always return to no matter what.

And I adore the little things that Missa notices. Last stream he got so giddy over the barrel in the house with his name on it and got so happy that he was included with the rest of the family even if he didn’t have anything in it. And then once again today gasping and getting happy at seeing the barrel again as if it was the first time all over. Missa loves being loved and he adores the little things the family does to show it. And how does he return the favor? With drawings he can leave behind dedicated to each one of them. Because he loves his family and he will find a way to physically show it even if he can’t be awake when they are.

And ohhh today with the cakes. He struggled so much and he lost so much energy trying to make the birthday cake for Tallulah but he would not give up until he got it done for both of them because his kids deserve it. And can I also point out I don’t think he realized it was also Chayanne’s birthday but he still made him a cake because he wanted to give something to his son and not make him feel left out. And when he was making the drawing for Tallulah he would not stop and he would not let ANYTHING distract him because his daughter deserves the world and she deserves the perfect painting.

Then come the raccoons. He goes and helps them clean because maybe he can earn money for the family and help out more around the house -> something Missa has always struggled with. He always wants to provide for the family the way they have him so he goes along with these raccoons. Then it all goes to shit when Bad logs on and he finds out it was his home they were cleaning. He finds the dead bodies and he gets scared because… who is this man he’s been calling his friend? Why does he have a grave of bodies underneath his home?

Missa runs. He tries to run away from q!Bad but he always finds him. And then it gets revealed that Missa was working with the raccoons and Bad backs away from Missa because how could he betray him. And Missa does try to explain it, he doesn’t know what is going on. He’s lost and confused and no one is answering his questions. q!Bad threatens and leaves q!Missa with the racoons just for the racoons to stab Missa in the back and rob him too.

This is when he asks himself, who can he trust? q!Bad isn’t who he thought he was, and the racoons betrayed him. He has considered q!Bad a friend for a long time because he’s always on when Missa is on and is always there to help (though if you ask me I would argue the opposite). He tried finding a way to justify Bad’s behavior, even the stuff chat brings up until he can’t. So, he goes back home and prepares a letter to Phil.

Because he realizes after everything in his life, after continuously trusting and relying on the wrong people, he concludes he can only trust q!Phil.

Missa never really leaves letters. His thing has always been paintings and small gifts. But for the first time (in what might be a long time) he leaves Phil a letter. Now that he’s accepted this is his home, he sees it’s also a place people can use to hurt him, in this case q!Bad.

Notice how when q!Bad came back and said he was gonna prank q!Phil and left, q!Missa immediately ran in to check on the kids? His priority and his fear will always be losing his family. He has spent so much of his life pushing himself a way from them, he doesn’t want to lose them when they’re so so close.

But as always… Missa runs. He runs away and sleeps somewhere else for tonight.

In his defense, I will say that this time it’s different. He’s running to protect his family. Is it the best option? I don’t think so. Missa always has struggled with feeling like he isn’t enough. And in this case, his families lives could be in danger so he runs away, because it’s his fault and he isn’t enough to protect them.

I will say. Things have changed. Because this time around he warned Phil. These two have had SOOO many instances of miscommunication and not talking to one another and we finally have a moment in which Phil is hearing directly from Missa. Not some other character, not his kids, Missa.

And the last thing Missa said when he went to bed. He wasn’t sleeping on a bed, because the only bed he will ever sleep on is the one in his home. LIKE FUCK. Yes he ran, yes he left to protect his family. But that’s his home. That’s where he will ALWAYS return to for comfort and safety. It isn’t a forever. It’s just for now.

For the first time, Missa is certain he will always have a home to return to.

#sorry if this makes no sense #I love Missa cubito so much #I just had to spit this out #qsmp #marv rants #death family #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #deathduo

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r0ttenhearts · 26 days

Text

longing stare

kazuha x situationship! ex! reader

sypnosis: after two months of no contact, kazuha appears back on beidou’s ship, looking for you.

warnings: angst, mean kazuha, cheating, situationship, suggestive content

“kazuha?”

the white haired samurai noticed the slight hitch in your breath as you stared, wide eyed. you looked the same as he remembered, your hair only being a few inches longer.

your features seemed healthier, you seemed happier. kazuha’s gentle smile only confused you as you stood there. you never thought you’d see him so soon, much less again. kazuha beckoned you towards the side of the ship. the boat rocked gently with the waves as you followed kazuha to the side. he leaned against the side while you stood there stiffly next to him.

“it’s been awhile, (y/n). you’re still with the crux? i thought you would’ve been onto your adventures in fontaine by now.”

you winced at the memory of a past dream you shared with him, “i decided to stay. this place felt more like home than there.”

you laughed dryly, “and you came back. why? was miss kamisato not promising enough for you?”

memories of the night you found out about them still laid as burning scars. scabbed over, but with the lightest scratch they’d be open again.

kazuha had been lying to you about his past relationship with the young lady of the kamisato clan. he had first introduced her as his friend, but not that he was once in a relationship with her. you found letters from ayaka in his small trunk he kept in his part of your shared closet. he reassured you they were old until you found another letter hidden away in the pocket of one of his haori coats. this letter was a detailed confession of how deeply ayaka felt for him and the words he told her.

your confrontation of the letter was the last memory you had with the samurai. his soft mumbled apologizes weren’t enough to keep him in the door. you were done, he no longer had a home with you. so he stayed in inazuma for two months.

kazuha gently shook his head. “i’ve been thinking about you, dove.” you shook your head at the familiar nickname.

“you shouldn’t call me that, kazuha.”

kazuha stood up from against the ships side, taking one of your hands, holding them in his. “i missed you more than anything. you were my calm in the storm, you silenced the torment in my heart. i see how i have wronged you, and i am so very sorry for my betrayal. it was my fatal mistake, my dear.”

you shook your head, your chest tightened with every word. “why now, kazuha? why didn’t you say that back then, that night?”

kazuha mumbled soft words of apologies, his gentle touches on your shoulder as you wept about how unworthy and undeserving you had once felt for him.

“i never did anything with her, my love. those two months i spent in inazuma weren’t spent with her. i was wandering the streets of the city, trying to put myself back together after the mistake i made that pushed you from me.” you nodded gently at his words, your tear streaked cheeks being wiped by his bandaged fingers.

kazuha would spend the night in your room, making up for the time he had lost. he worshipped you that night, holding you close to him as if he’d lose you once again.

you found him the next morning in the same spot where he apologized to you. a cup of tea was warming his hands as you came to stand next to him. “good morning, dove.”

you smiled gently at the familiarity of this scene, this is how you would spend mornings with kazuha before the breakup.

“good morning, my dear samurai. what adventures await us today?” you asked him teasingly.

kazuha’s bandaged arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. “don’t worry your little head about such matters, let’s enjoy the day in each others company.” kazuha planted a kiss on the top of your head before turning back into your room. you chased after him and spent another day together. he wrote you a haiku and brought out his paint brushes. you created a beautiful painting of the autumn leaves and inazuma’s terrain. everything felt perfect. just as it had before everything left you once before.

but you knew better than to trust a man that had betrayed you. it had only been a week of kazuha being back that you noticed how he now flinched from your touches. he wouldn’t sleep next to you or in the same room anymore, disappearing all night somewhere on the ship. his soft words of affection and endearing nicknames had stopped as well. he now only called you by your name.

you still remembered the last night he spent with you before turning cold. he had brought up how he missed warming your bed at night, burying himself inside of you. his whines to complete himself inside of you were finally heard, his scarred body retracting immediately as he finished. “where are you going, kazu?” you’d called out softly as he shrugged his kimono back on. “i’ll be back soon, dove.” he spoke coldly as he left you.

but his warmth never returned. he spent most of his time with beidou and the others on the ship. if you arrived he wouldn’t even pretend to acknowledge you.

a deep sinking feeling that was all too familiar enveloped you once again. kazuha was acting the same way he did two months ago. but this time you wouldn’t let him get away with it. get away with breaking your heart for a second time.

after some liquid courage from beidou, you found kazuha against the front of the ship. he was watching the waves, a familiar bottle in his hands. “hello, (y/n). come to watch the waves?”

you shook your head, tearing the bottle from kazuha’s grasp. “what’re you playing at kaedehara?”

kazuha shrugged his shoulders, “i don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“you know exactly what i mean kazuha. you can’t just be all close to me, tell me you love me, share a bed with me, and then go all cold in only a few days. i forgave you for that kamisato girl, i forgave you for everything. so why? why are you doing this to me?”

kazuha’s expression didn’t change from his usual demeanor, “we’re moving too fast, (y/n). we should take things slow. i was afraid to tell you, i admit. but i think we should just be friends.”

it felt like every archon had cursed you in that moment. the buzzing of the alcohol couldn’t hide the immense ache in your chest as you stood there, watching how kazuha seemed so unfazed by the fate he had declared for you both. you gave yourself to him, something you never allowed him to do when you were together previously. but this time had to have been different, right?

“okay.” you spoke with a low voice as kazuha turned his attention back to the dark sea. your stumbling footsteps carried you back to your room, sobs erupting from your mouth. you gave yourself to him, and all he could offer you now was friendship.

as you laid there in the dark, you realized how wrong you had been. and how wronged you now felt. two months ago was supposed to have been your biggest betrayal from kaedehara kazuha, not now.

with this new realization in your heart, you could no longer call the crux your home. as the night went on you had gathered all of your things, writing beidou a goodbye as well as a thank you note.

the ship docked in sumeru early in the morning, and you made sure to be off the boat within the first hour. with a rushed goodbye, you gave beidou the letter, as well as one for kazuha. you would get to fontaine. you would build a new world for yourself. one far away from the samurai you could no longer call home.

a/n: situationship/being an ex of a kazuha main HURTS i wouldn’t wish it on anyone

taglist: @samarill @whorerificstuff @somatchajade @dearsumire @saeism @jaderose18 @0kauy @lelemnh @linkookie197 @xiaonscaraswife @reblog-crazily @sparklylanddetective @gh0sts0up @darliingyu @kenmabfasf @jihyuniepark @chiisananingen @just-anotherbookworm

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha angst #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha

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14thgalerie · 6 months

Text

home

"In a chilling twist of events, you find your walls marred with splatters of crimson red, and at the epicenter stands your fiancé, a haunting nonchalance in his gaze."

• pairing: tom riddle x reader

• now playing: nfwmb by hozier

• word count: 4.2k

• genre: angst

“What have you done?” You ask, voice breaking in trepidation.

A heavy sense of unease permeated the air, leaving no doubt that what may come out of his mouth will only confirm your worst fears, yet, you still ask. Grappling at the little hope, that fading light, that maybe you might be wrong.

There was no response. The only audible noise was the eerie ruffling of the trees outside, swaying terrifyingly from the storm, paired with the endless ticking of the grandfather clock at the end of your entrance hall.

Hands turning cold and clammy, itching to scratch at the blockage in your throat. To plead with him to answer you truthfully, for once in the entire 10 years you’ve known each other.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” He finally speaks.

Maybe it was a false light. One that he deliberately put himself in order for you to believe that he was still worthy of your time, of your saviour acts.

“Did I ruin your act, huh?” You entertain this show of his, one last time. Letting him believe that he still holds the reins. But his piercing dark eyes that are brazenly fixed on you with such a deep intensity urge you to cower back against the door.

“No, I was just surprised, is all.” He puts on that god-awful mask— making you wonder how painfully stupid you were before to not realise you were being played as a fool. The one that he quickly plasters on as he walked the hallways of Hogwarts back then. A gentle smile that mirrors the one in his eyes, inviting and comfortable. “Let’s go outside, shall we?”

He reached out his pale hands, fingers decorated by silver rings, one of which was a gift from you years ago. His hands that always housed themselves above your thigh, tracing mindlessly despite the evident warmth that followed it.

The normalcy that laced his visage made you want to throw up the bile that had been bubbling in the pit of your stomach since your nose registered the metallic smell that permeated the living room air. It makes you sick that he is capable of such atrocities.

“No.”

You let a moment of silence occur, watching the mask crack, his perfect smile flinching. You have got to give it to him. He was able to send waves of fear through you, willing you to succumb to his every whim. Even now, as the blood paints the once cream-coloured walls. The walls that you spent hours meticulously covering.

“Let’s talk here, instead.”

He nods slowly, for the first time, you see how the state of being unsure of your next actions leaves him unsettled and tense. Eyebrows creasing ever so slightly, the bulwark he built around himself getting thicker.

“Did you honestly think you could get away with this?” You ask, puzzled at his gall. “To pretend that you can barely even see the original colour of our walls now because of-“

Your breath hitches at the thought, unable to speak the words out loud. To do so is to acknowledge that someone has brutally died in the very place that you planned to raise your child in. Somewhere that should have been a safe haven for you.

“Nothing a little magic couldn’t fix, Darling.”

“Are you dense? I don’t care for the walls!” You shout, unable to keep your wits on you anymore.

“Then why are you complaining about it then?”

“I’m talking about how you just killed, no, murdered somebody in our house. Our home. the one place that I should feel safe in.”

“And you are…anywhere you are as long as you’re with me.”

Raising your hands to your pursed lips, dragging it down in exasperation. It truly baffles you how unstirred he is in this situation. You knew he had a qualm for unusual habits, but never did you think that this would be one of those.

“How am I supposed to feel safe when you are the reason for this? The reason why someone would be left wondering where their loved one has gone missing?” The irritation poisoned your speech, but the alarm wasn’t veiled by it. “He could’ve been a father, a sibling, or whatever!”

“Do you really think I didn’t take the time to snuff out every possible hindrance to this? What do you think of me?” He says, almost offendedly. Although you weren’t even sure why. As if that made it any better.

“I don’t know. My fiancé, who works diligently as an auror for the Ministry and wouldn’t do such a terrible thing?” You sarcastically reply.

“Well you got the first part right but don’t act like this wasn’t all because of you.” He points at you with that long, slender finger. It reminded you of your father’s back when he used to reprimand your mother for whatever mistake she had supposedly made.

You glare at him through your eyelashes. “Don’t twist this around, Tom.” A snarl escaped you and you could feel a twinge of anger coursing through you at his words. In your confused and irritated mind, you don’t notice how he flinches at the sound of his name. He forces himself to believe that it was just a slip of the tongue.

“I’m not. I am honestly delighted that I did such a great job, dismembering his face enough that you can’t even recognise this man.” He says as he steps over the body that lies unconscious with its limbs twisted in unnatural ways. Blood covered the canvas of his face, his eyes welled up into dark circles, and from your view, seemed to have been missing a few front teeth. “I want to say I’m sorry that I had to take away the pretty face that you were so enamoured with, but that would be a lie because I hadn’t enjoyed my time like I did while doing so.”

You finally dare to look directly at the body, at the unfortunate person who runs out of luck, and a tiny light bulb in the back of your mind sparks. Yet, you still couldn’t quite put a finger on it. By a few breaths, you calm yourself enough to continue observing the broken figure.

From the corner of your eyes, a warm golden ring hits your vision. The shape was distinct enough that your brain made quick work to make the connection.

It was like a pin dropped in the still silence.

The realisation of who it was sent you spiralling even further into the hollow space in your mind. Cowering in the darkest corner of the space.

He is leaning against the marble counter in your kitchen, where you are still within clear eyesight for him. His body was lined with tension, like a spring coiled to a point of painful traction and you were just waiting for it to snap back.

“Tom…” There it is again.

“Yes, hun?” He takes a tasteful sip of the amber liquid. Savouring the taste of every last drop. The sight honestly distracts you for a second before you forcefully pull yourself back. Horrified at the thought of being aroused when a body lies cold on your carpet.

“Is this-”

“The man from the bar?” He hums, “Yes. Yes, that is him.”

A wicked grin paints his face, cruel malevolence dancing in his eyes. The glint in his eyes flickered with genuine delight as if he was presented with a chance to show off his new toy.

“It was an easy catch, I will tell you that. I was expecting him to put up a bit of a fight seeing as he was all macho with you.” He divulges. Leisurely walking back to the living room, stopping at the person’s head, giving it a nudge with his speck clean leather shoes.

“Why did you do it?” You cut him off. Your mind was reeling at his words as an endless pit formed in your stomach. Talking about it as if it was something mundane.

But he ignores you and continues as if your words were only a gust of wind. While he expectedly should not be a fan of your blatant disregard for him, he doesn’t say a thing about it.

“I followed him the day after, tracking him for a while, noting if there was something else that would hit him harder but seeing him regularly forget he has a family by flirting with young women day and night…it was only right that I rid the world of vermin.”

“You mean to tell me that you had tortured this man to his death all because of his proclivity for cheating on his wife?”

He looks to you, and for the first time that night, a semblance of something else appears on his face. A cocktail of disdain and hatred. “Is that something not worthy of punishment? To swear your vows to a person you declared to be your love and then blatantly lie to their faces about your nightly habits. To forget that your children are waiting for you to pick them up from kindergarten so he could get his cock wet.”

Tom kept his eyes on you, his face breaking into pieces of anger and confusion. “Tell me. Is he not worthy of such when he deliberately chooses women who are half his age? All the while knowing his age gives him power over them?”

You shook your head, tears welling and blurring your vision. You blinked to keep them away as you didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. The way your emotions have dipped and hiked in the past hour has already been too much, leaving you utterly confused about what is even happening anymore.

“I don’t know anymore, Tom. I have no idea what to think, what to focus on and scorn you in particular. Your blatant disregard for our home, using it as your fucking slaughterhouse, now that we mention it, should be something to talk about. You just killed a person, no, you tortured somebody with pure malice.”

“He should’ve been hung, strangled, and quartered!” He pauses, realising his voice has turned a lot louder than he intended. “I’m sorry. But it’s true, Y/N, even if he has done nothing to you, he deserves all of those things and no less.”

His thumbs soothed over your knuckles that have turned pale from their tight clench, easing your hands until your palms are open to him. The twinge of pain from the pink crescent moons on the surface alleviated with his gentle touch.

He leans down, lips tenderly kissing the hand secured in his grasp, before twisting his head to press with the same gentleness on your other hand.

“I am well aware that you abhor these kinds of actions. It’s why I worked hard to keep it from you, I never wanted for you to think of me as some person who reverted to violence for no reason.” He kneels down next to your seated figure to level your eyes. “You are somebody special to me, and not a single word that I know of would be enough to perfectly explain that to you. Nothing in this world, in this reality, could take you away from me unless you wish it yourself. But please, I beg you to understand that I did this out of pure concern and love only.”

Tom raises one of his hands, letting it sit gingerly on your knees that, without your control, has succumbed to your habit of bouncing it in moments of tension. Pressing it with just the right balance of force and gentleness to calm you.

He swallows hard, his chestnut brown eyes flickering back and forth between your own. The previous edge in them is long gone as he looks up at you, instead, a hint of desperation takes its place.

“You love me, don’t you? I know you do and I never for a second have doubted that. I feel the same, and possibly even more than you do and it scares me. I was never made to know love nor ever experience it so when I met you, I swore that there would be nothing in existence that can forcefully keep you away from me.” He says in one breath until his body finally forces him to take one, then he continues. “When I told you how my mind and soul is yours only, I meant it. You are the sole person who can tell me that we are done but please. I will beg on my knees until they are bleeding so that you understand that.”

You finally look at him, actually, look at him. Not one of fleeting glance only. Stomach twisting.

“No law or morality will stop me.”

This is what worried you.

You were sure to tell him off. Take him up on his offer to be away from him without a hint of resistance. At least, more than halfway sure already, but those eyes. Those fucking eyes. You were worried that if you looked at them, every nerve in you that was ready to run would relax. That you would be catapulted into your foolishness, and all the right senses would be nothing.

To see that there isn’t an inkling of malicious ambition in those eyes, but instead, there was only unabashed determination and genuineness behind his words. An openness only reserved for you.

Your heart immediately starts hammering against your rib cage, and you try to resist the urge to give in to him. Forcefully diverting your mind to the monstrosity he committed in your home.

Tom sees this. He always did. He knows you better than you ever will.

“I won’t promise that this would be the last time because that would be a lie and I promised to you that that is something I will never do to you. But I can promise you that you won’t ever have to see this ever again, also because I don’t want you to.”

When he sees that you have finally cooled down, he slowly moves to sit next to you. Making sure that there is still enough space between the two of you so that you don’t feel uncomfortable.

“Tom…” You call out in a meek voice. He hums, patiently waiting for you to continue.

“I get the reason why, as much as it still baffles me, but you didn’t have to go through this much.” Exhaling shakily. “You didn’t have to beat him until he saw the pyres of hell. Report him to the proper authorities for his crimes! That should’ve been the first thing that popped into your head, for Merlin’s sake!”

Your torso swivels to face him, eyes wide as you let everything out. Emotions pouring out of you in the form of tears, staining your cheeks wet again. Tom wanted nothing more than to wipe them away and pull you to his chest, but he knew that you were like this because of him and he didn’t want to push further away from him.

“Why did you have to drag him into our home? Tainting our home with this kind of violence, hell Tom! This is supposed to be where our child would be raised, where they would be spending their lives and now I don’t even know if they should be.” You shouted, waving your arms around wildly.

“They can, darling. This is the safest place they would be in, I would make sure of that. If there is anything that I will prioritise more than anything is your safety and our future kid.” He assures you.

“I don’t want them to witness these kinds of violence.”

“And they never will, just as you never will also. Tonight was an unfortunate mistake for me, one that I will never make again. And I am sorry that you had to, please forgive me.”

“I don’t know.” A murmur, one that could have been passed for a breath. But his sharp ears strained to pick it up.

He was angry. Enraged at himself. This wasn’t how he planned tonight to go, it was supposed to be an easy work and toss. He hadn’t expected you to be a part of the equation, planning the events of the night around yours to ensure that you wouldn’t have a clue of what transpired in your home.

In all fairness, it was a dangerous game that he played. Taking that piece of disgusting waste to your home was a step that he had to take so that he wouldn’t be disturbed by nosy strangers. Taking the off chance that you wouldn’t be home by then.

He was angry at himself that he had broken the unsaid promise to keep this side of him away from you. A small part of him was terrified that you would turn your back on him just as the people before you did. Taking the life that he could have only dreamt of back then with you. The thought curses away the ridiculous calm facade that he has kept when around you.

“No.” Vehemently shaking his head back and forth, dropping your hands on the softcover of your couch as he jumps up to pace in front of you. Trying to calm himself at the prospect of his worst fear turning into a reality. “I’m sorry, okay. I really am. We could move far away, build the house of our dreams and forget that this happened. But I need you to forgive me, Y/N. Please.”

To your utter surprise, he harshly drops onto his knees. Taking your hands back in his trembling hands.

“Tom.” You begin before you are cut off, “You need to stop calling me that.”

“What do you mean? That’s your name.” You confusedly ask.

“Call me darling again, call me anything but that. It’s almost as if you gave up already and that can’t happen, please. I need to know that I'm not alone in this. Please, I’m so sorry.” He says, a slight tremor in his voice.

Your heart breaks at the sight in front of you. The once strong and unwavering countenance he puts on every day was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a man who was unknown to you, placing his vulnerable self all out for you to see. In a sense that you’ve never before seen, he was gentle to you, yes, but never like this.

Tears lined his waterline until it couldn’t be controlled anymore and they were slipping down his cheeks like a torrential downpour. He was inconsolable.

No time would be enough for you to understand the emotions twirling behind those dark eyes. Overwhelming you to the point of giving in. There was anger, pain, sorrow, and all of it. And you knew he was trying his best to control it, evident by the way his hands were tensing, not wanting to fist them.

“I’m so sorry, ok, and I know that saying it repeatedly for the rest of our days together wouldn’t be enough, but I need you to know that I am. Words are the only thing I can give you right now, however, if you let me…I would prove it to you every day in any way possible to man.”

“I’m pregnant.”

A pause in the beat of sound.

His ears were ringing.

He had no idea if time had paused and his mind was left wondering in the abyss of time if he was hearing things that weren’t true.

“I’m about three weeks pregnant already.”

It was only when your tiny voice permeated through the silent room that he realised he wasn’t being delusional. His ears had not fooled him.

“You…you are?” He asks, with hesitation lining every syllable.

“I am. I found out today which is why I came home.”

If he was confused by the torrent of emotions and thoughts that waved over him earlier, now it was like he couldn’t comprehend a single exhale anymore. It was only at your touch and call that he let his lungs feel a wave of oxygen.

“I already had my suspicions earlier this week, but I wanted to be sure before I told you, hence why I made a plan with a friend to go to the doctor today. I kept it a secret so I wouldn’t get your hopes up, I know we have been talking about it for a while now so I didn’t want it to be a false alarm.” You explain.

“So here I was, so excited when the doctor told me that I was indeed pregnant with our child that I forgot to tell you I was coming home. I assumed that you were making dinner and I wanted to make it a surprise, so I got ourselves a cake to celebrate.”

A single chuckle leaves you. “Well, obviously that didn’t go well.” You said as you looked at the box of ruined dessert by the door from when you dropped it.

Although his mind was still haywire from what you had announced, he still made an effort to let you know he was listening intently. Giving you a gentle squeeze in the hand.

“I want them to have a normal life, one that is far from the atrocities of the world and I know that is a child’s prayer, a romantic dream, but I will try my very best to achieve that. That includes taking them far away from this home, from their father, if need be.”

He looked at you as he moved to sit back next to you, keeping hold of your hand still, an unfamiliar look in his expression.

“Y/N…darling, forget what I said earlier. I would never put a hand on another person again if it meant there wouldn’t even be someone for me to do it for. I will control myself, take the sessions you told me about.” He declares, with a finality in his voice that shows his determination to prove he was being true.

It was a lie, and you knew that. A little, white lie. You’ve been with Tom since 5th year, and now you are at the age of 24, if anybody knew his body language better than anyone, it would be you.

He would only be more cautious now, making sure that every grainy detail is there in its proper places. Ensure that he would never make the mistake of making you see what he is capable of.

You look at the dormant body that has long passed in the middle of your living room. Mind reeling back to what he mentioned earlier. Now that you have calmed down, you realise that your outburst was more because of shock and less of that piece of trash. He did indeed make you uncomfortable, and if Tom hadn’t been there, you had no idea of your fate then. Added on by the fact that this was apparently a pattern he does to other women.

In all honesty, you didn’t really know what to feel at the moment after all that had happened in the span of an hour. You suppose you should be livid, upset, hell, even guilty that you’re somewhat relieved that someone had enacted an act of revenge on a disgraceful human being.

Tonight was a whirlwind of emotions, to say the least, and you couldn’t trust yourself to make a just and coherent decision.

“If-“ His breath hitches, the thought that flashed behind his eyes making him gasp for air. “If I lose control again, I will never force you to stay with me.”

“Tom, I am not asking you to do all of that. Though, it would be great for yourself and for your mental well-being because you need to find more healthy ways to deal with your problems.” You sigh. “I just ask you to please never let our child see whatever violence you inflict on others, I don’t want him to grow up thinking that this is the answer to everything. They should grow up with the proper mindset that you didn’t that I know you want also.”

“I know but I’ll still try to better myself, for myself. I can’t promise it would be fast, nor can I even promise it would work, but I’ll try.”

“I’ll go stay at an inn tonight while you deal with this-“ Waving your hand around unfashionably. “mess. I’ll call you in the morning and please?”

“What is it?” He asks.

“Take another day off because we need to look at a new house immediately, I cannot stand to breathe in another particle from this place anymore.”

“Whatever the wife wants.” He smiles and pushes a whisper of a kiss against your soft lips. “Still a few more months, Mr. Riddle. I’m tired so I'll go now. Let’s talk more tomorrow because I don’t think I can last another second staying awake.”

“I’ll drive you there, I don’t want you apparating anymore.”

“No complaints here,” You mumble against his lips that gently press onto yours. Wanting to say the three words that you loved to say but before you could,

“I love you, too.”

— hello there ! moved my notes here becuase the intro was too long. this initially had a whole back story that lead up to the events here but i cut it out because that part was taking too much time to complete. also hello, i'm finally writing for my og crush in harry potter but uh i decided to use the tom hughes fancast since this is set way after they graduated.

masterlist

#harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle angst #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #slytherin #tom riddle oneshot #tom marvolo riddle

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