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rose-gold-bullet · 2 months

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[𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰] - Giyuu Tomioka x Reader

Summary: You get injured while fighting a demon and Giyuu helps to bring you back to health.

warnings: none aside from the injury the reader endures and maybe a gross amount of fluff

"It hurts."

"I know." Giyuu spoke softer than usual in an attempt to calm you down as he took off his haori to create a makeshift bandage.

You struggled to maintain your breathing technique as you bled out on the forest floor. The pain you felt in your dominant arm was horrid, but it was nothing compared to shame you felt as you were sloppily nursed back to stability by your companion for the mission you were assigned. You were a member of the Hashira after all; how could you let yourself be torn down in battle by such a low level Kizuki? You were able to land the final blow, but not without substantial damage to your own body.

If you wanted to be honest with yourself, you knew exactly what impeded your typically flawless movements; you were distracted by him. The same man frantically wrapping his haori around your wound in a subpar attempt to stop the blood loss.

You couldn't help it; as cliche as it sounds, you felt like his eyes were designed to get lost in.

"Can you stand?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"I hope so. Can you help me up?" Your response was shaky and barely loud enough to be heard.

He slowly stood and pulled you up with him. You tried as hard as you could to steady yourself once he let go, but all the motivation in the world couldn't stop your legs from buckling. You gasped as you shut your eyes and waited for the harsh impact with the cold ground.

Unsurprisingly, such impact never came.

"Thanks." You muttered, trying to hide your embarrassment as you were being carried bridal style through the forest and soon onto a dirt road.

'As if I couldn't appear any more pathetic...' your brain assaulted itself with more negative assumptions than ever before, and you dug your face into Giyuu's chest to hide the upset expression you could feel plaguing your usually neutral features.

The walk to the Butterfly Estate was a bit of a long one, but it was necessary for a Pillar to receive the best care for mangled limbs.

Much of the said trek was made in silence.

After some time, you shifted your body so you could watch your surroundings. If it weren't for the trail of blood you were leaving with every step the visibly concerned man took, it'd be a perfect night.

"Giyuu, isn't it lovely out tonight?" You finally spoke.

"You're sounding dangerously similar to Shinobu. I have more important things to worry about, as do you."

A breathy laugh escaped your lips. You could tell your own injury was making you a bit delirious.

"You needn't be so serious. We both know I'll recover," you took a ragged breath, "I know you're a Pillar, but we're both allowed to enjoy life sometimes." You explained. As expected, there was no response.

You looked up at the night sky before taking another shaky breath, "You remind me of the moon."

"What?"

"Though, it's not nearly as handsome as you are." You spilled. You were too exhausted to care about whatever his response may be, and too inattentive to notice the slight blush that crept onto his face.

"I'll be sure to have the caretakers at the estate check for a concussion."

Once again, silence filled the open dirt road you were now following.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused tonight. I should know to make myself more useful."

"You were more tha-"

"I think I'm going to fall asleep. Is that alright?" You intentionally cut him off as you knew you weren't strong enough for that sort of conversation. You glanced up at his face and waited for a reply.

He hesitantly nodded, "I'll wake you up if your breathing gets to slow. Dying isn't an opt-" Once again, He was cut off. This time, by the gentle snores escaping your lips. He sighed, exasperated, but was glad you were at least safe for now. With that peace of mind, he allowed the guilt he was struggling to carry lessen in weight ever so slightly.

'As if I couldn't appear any more useless.' He thought as he replayed the moment you cried out in pain over and over in his mind, wincing at every opportunity where he had the power to change the course of the fight but couldn't think fast enough in the moment.

---

You awoke in a bed you recognized almost immediately. You were one of the more frequent visitors at the Butterfly Estate, not because you were weaker but because it wasn't unheard of for you to throw yourself in front of enemy attacks aimed at others (most often protecting Giyuu).

"Oh good, you're awake! We'll let Mr. Tomioka know immediately." Three girls stood at the foot of your bed with a polite smile pasted on their faces.

"Wait- What are my injuries?"

"A severe laceration in your (dominant) arm as well as a fractured humerus and 2 broken ribs. Don't worry, Aoi took the necessary measures and you should make a complete recovery in around 3 weeks."

"Why would you let Giyuu know I woke up?"

"He's always the most concerned, miss! This time, he tried to sit in your room as you slept so he'd be there when you came to." One girl spoke up and they laughed in unison after. With that, they placed water and what you assumed to be pain medicine on your nightstand and left the room.

You laid completely still for a few minutes longer, piecing together the events before you blacked out. You felt your face heat up as you recalled the short exchange you had with Giyuu as he carried you to safety, and silently prayed he forgot about it.

Your thoughts were cut short by rapid footsteps increasing in volume from down the hall. Seconds later, there was a quiet knock at your door.

"Come in." Your voice was still weak, but it was a massive improvement in comparison to the night of the injury. The door slid open to reveal your evidently dejected friend. "Why are you still upset? The residents said I'd make a full recovery and the mission was successf-"

"I'm sorry." It was Giyuu's turn to speak over you. He hesitantly walked towards your bed and kneeled beside it. "I could have stopped this from happening. I could have saved you so much pain."

"That's not your responsibility-"

"It is. I'm there to keep you safe just as you're there to protect me. I failed." He closed his eyes and for only a second, you saw emotion far more intense than you've ever witnessed him showing before.

It almost broke you.

"You can't blame yourself for that! You're the one who kept me alive." You quickly tried to sit up to emphasize your point but flopped back down on the bed upon realizing you had no movement of your dominant arm to support you. "... A cast?" You shook your head in annoyance upon seeing it.

He spoke up once again. "Let me aid you back to health," there was a brief pause as he tried to find the right words, "As an apology for my negligence."

Normally, you'd immediately decline. You have far too much pride for your own good and would never want Giyuu to assume you were weak regardless. But a broken arm is beyond annoying, and maybe some extra time with him outside of life threatening missions would be nice.

You thought it over for a few seconds longer, "If you insist!" you offered a smile although you were nearly certain you'd somehow regret this decision later.

Needless to say, you were right.

---

"Giyuu, let go! I need to train!"

"You need to rest. How do you expect to even lift something as heavy as a sword with a cast on?" You desperately tried to squirm out of his grip as he pinned you to the bed.

"I'll figure it out! Come on, Aoi said I could!"

"No I didn't!" You both heard her call out from the hallway in response.

It was no use. The whole world was against you. You gave up, but not without pouting and complaining for another 20 minutes before making another pitiful attempt at escaping again.

"How have you managed to make full recoveries in the past?" Annoyance dripped from the poor man's lips.

"I'm lucky!" You grinned, before shutting your eyes and going back to sleep. You missed his eyes soften as he watched your sleeping form, before standing up quietly and leaving for a little while.

'Nows my chance!' You stood up and left your room, only to be carried back by the exasperated water breather, both passive-aggressively bickering all the while.

---

"I don't need constant care, you know. It's just a broken arm..." You trailed off as you thought of a way to get him to leave for a while. You enjoyed your time with him, but it was beginning to feel like you were being babysat.

No reply.

You stood up from your bed once again, this time receiving a suspicious glare from Giyuu. "Calm down, I'm only going to get some food."

He nodded at you, but didn't leave your bedside.

"You're... free to join me, you know." You specified once you sensed he wasn't quite sure what to do in your absence. He nodded once more and began trailing behind you as you made your way to a sort of cafeteria where recovering demon slayers can find food.

The food they offered at the time was ramen, which you graciously accepted, though knew from the start it would be a battle to eat it considering your injuries. You took two bowls, found a seat, and waved Giyuu over.

"Thanks so much for making sure I'm alright," you started, "but I swear I'll be fine." You stared down at your ramen before glancing at the chopsticks beside it, then back at the bowl. Maybe you could wait to eat until Giyuu leaves so you don't have to worry about making a fool of yourself, or perhaps you could say you weren't hungry after al-

"You should eat. You haven't had anything all day aside from your medicine."

You looked at Giyuu, then back at the chopsticks. You took a determined breath, then shakily grabbed your chopsticks with your non-dominant hand.

'I can do this,' you thought as you slowly picked up some noodles. Let's just say you weren't exactly ambidextrous. In fact, it's a miracle you got your feeble hand to hold the chopsticks at all.

'I can do this, I ca-' the very few noodles you were able to grab flopped back into your bowl and you could feel the hot liquid splash back in your face. 'No. No, I definitely cannot.'

Meanwhile, your so-called caretaker was struggling to keep his calm demeanour and you caught a glimpse of his mouth twitching up. "It's rude to laugh!" You huffed, but you couldn't keep a straight face either.

After a few moments, his expression shifted back from amused to concerned. "Let me help."

"...What?"

He took the chopsticks from your hands and picked up some noodles before putting them in front of your face. "Eat."

Your face became redder than you thought was possible as some recovering demon slayers snuck peaks at the the two Hashiras apparently sharing a meal.

"I'll pass." You choked out. Giyuu feeding you was not on your plan for the day. He furrowed his brows a bit and inched the noodles closer. You would've held your ground, but the growls coming from your stomach begged you to accept the help. You closed your eyes and quickly took a bite.

"Wow, I had no idea Tomioka and (L/N) were together!"

"I wonder if they were keeping it a secret. I always knew they were in love!" You both overheard the hushed voices erupting from a few of the recovering demon slayers in the room, but neither of you wanted to correct them as you took another bite.

---

You led Giyuu out to the gardens after your rather embarrassing meal.

"I'm not letting you train." He said firmly.

You laughed, "I know. After being stuck in the manor all day, I just figured we both could use some fresh air." What you said was mostly true; yes, you needed the fresh air, but it was more so to calm you down after what happened in the cafeteria.

He nodded, and you both stood in silence as you watched the sun begin to set. Being alone with him so long only confirmed for you just how much you fell for him; it was the comfortable silence that proved it.

You began to walk around the garden, admiring the way the plants glowed under the setting sun. Giyuu grabbed your good hand as you both continued to walk and you blushed at the contact.

"Don't worry! I'm able to walk on my own at least," you laughed in an attempt to hide your bashfulness, "it wasn't my legs that were injured!"

Giyuu admired your blushing face before revealing a soft, yet genuine smile.

"I know."

Notes: -2,204 words -maybe i'll update this with a cringe warning -cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad if you want to support me there as well <3 thank you for reading!! new to tumblr so bear with me here lol

#demon slayer #giyuu tomioka #kny giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyu x reader #tomioka giyuu x reader #kny x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #tomioka x reader #kny fluff #demon slayer fluff #kny #demon slayer x reader #giyuu fluff

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luveline · 11 months

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Wait! Hotch x stripper!reader was so good. I want more of their potential relationship!!

"I want a private dance."

You look up from your seat at the bar in surprise. Yes, you're in lingerie, and yes, you're in a strip club, but the patrons here usually leave you alone at the bar after a few dances.

"I'm not doing private dances tonight, honey," you say, sipping at your drink, condensation wetting your hands, "sorry."

"Are you kidding?"

You wipe a droplet off of your naked thigh. You should've gone into the dressing rooms and changed, but you'd been dancing for a long time without a break, and craved a little drink to numb your headache. "Not kidding. Sorry," you say again, though apologising makes you feel sick. It's not your fault, you're allowed to say no to private dances, but you've learned that saying sorry helps minimise their anger.

"That's what you're here for."

"No," you say, looking away from him. "'M just a dancer. Private dances are done at my discretion."

"You could at least look at me when I'm talking to you," he says sharply. "Don't be a bitch, sweetheart."

"That's enough."

You look up, then, at a familiar voice cutting in. Agent Hotchner stands tall, dark and handsome where he stands behind your disgruntled patron. "Talk to her with respect or don't talk," Agent Hotchner continues.

"Who are you?" the patron asks.

He doesn't even need his badge. Hotchner just looks at him, waiting. It's impressive how stony one man can look, how much authority he can carry in little but his stance.

The patron throws you a disgusted look and leaves the way he came. You breathe a sigh of relief, though you're pissed too. You explained yourself twice and it didn't matter, but Agent Hotchner's scolding was enough to send him running.

"Thank you," you say.

He shakes his head at you. "You shouldn't have needed my intervention in the first place."

Your chest hurts with a weird queasy shame. "I know, I should've– I mean, what did I think was gonna happen, sitting here." You laugh awkwardly.

His frown deepens. "That's not what I meant… I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" you ask, turning back to your drink. You scratch at the salt along the rim.

"That it happens, Y/N. That you have to deal with it."

"Thanks, Agent Hotchner," you say.

"You can call me Aaron, if you're comfortable."

He'd said the same a few weeks ago. You'd shown up at the BAU to meet Spencer (who'd been indisposed of, playing an intense game of chess against himself) and he offered you a ride home. He insisted you call Spencer first. He did everything he could to make you feel safe, which is more than most.

"Aaron," you say, tucking your hands between your thighs. What would his colleagues think of him, here, standing opposite of you and your lingerie? Your chest craned forward ever so slightly, the softness of your stomach and your bruised legs? "I don't know why you're here."

"I have some questions for you."

"Am I in trouble?" you ask.

He gives you a look. You imagine it to be something similar to, No, but I might be. It's a nice fantasy. "No. You were a great help with Lawley. I was hoping we could use your expertise again."

"Is this going to get dangerous for me?" you ask, tilting your head gently to one side. "Snitching?"

"I'd never let anything happen to you. And if you were to keep talking to the FBI, we could even facilitate compensation."

"I sell enough of myself."

He holds your gaze. "I understand. But I'd really appreciate your help with this."

"Okay." You slip out of your chair. "Can I get dressed, first, or…"

"Of course. Take your time." He doesn't gawk at you, doesn't stare, only meets you head on with that familiar furrowed brow. "Does it happen often?"

You let yourself picture him as neither a customer nor an agent with work to do. For a moment, he's a handsome man, striking heartfelt conversation. "All the time."

You change into your clothes and meet him again at the bar, where he asks you questions about a patron and you answer to the best of your ability. Before he leaves, he gives you his card. "If you need me," is all he says as he goes. You put the number in your phone and tuck the card into your dressing table, wondering what definition of need fits the bill.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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yourdarlingalina · 9 months

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is it new years yet? | jack hughes

synopsis: y/n's new years kiss is the last person she expected, her former fuck buddy pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader word count: 2.7k warnings: slightly steamy, heavy making out, mentions of sex, a bit angsty, not properly proofread is it new years yet? - sabrina carpenter

What's the best way to forget about your fuck buddy who broke things off with you a week before Christmas? Who you definitely don't have feelings for and who definitely didn't find out about said feelings by accident?

From a responsible person's point of view, it was the correct decision. I fell for someone who just wanted no strings attached sex. He doesn't want a relationship, and it is supposed to save me from being hurt even worse in the future. But I am not a responsible person. A responsible person wouldn't have been talking about their feelings with friends when they knew that the person they had feelings for was also in the same bar.

Which is how I ended up in my current situation. A glass of champagne in one hand while the other holds onto a random guy's shoulder as we sway and grind to the upbeat tempo blasting through the club's speakers. The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one, right? At least, that's what my friends were telling me as they convinced me to go out with them for New Year's Eve.

"Start the new year off with someone new."

And start the new year off with someone new I will. The guy in front of me is decent looking, he's no Jack but he'd do. His hands were at least doing all the right things, one gripping my hip to pull me closer as the other was pushing my hair out of the way of my neck so that he could leave sloppy open mouthed kisses to my skin. Hands roamed down my body as I brought the champagne flute closer to my lips, this night would require copious amounts of alcohol if I am to make it to midnight. He pawed his hands down from my hips to my ass, gripping and squeezing in ways that should be making me want to push my body harder against his. His mouth trailing from my neck down to cleavage, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh.

He was doing everything right to my body, but it just didn't feel right. I wanted it to be Jack who was brave enough to handle me this way in the middle of a crowded club, not ashamed to be seen with me, but it wasn't. He made it very clear that he only wanted me in private, with no one knowing that I was his on those nights and that he was mine, even if it was only for a short time. It was like he knew my body better than I did, knew what buttons to press to make me cry out his name. How he made me come undone again and again. The kisses that gave me full body shivers and touches that left my skin feeling like it was set alight.

I was not getting those feelings with the man attached to my body. He seemed like he'd be a great lover for a night, but not in the way I needed. Perhaps if I met him before everything, I could be happy with him but it felt like I had been ruined.

A party popper would end up becoming my hero of the night when one went off right next to my ear causing the glass in my hand to tumble down, splashing champagne on the man as it made its way down to shatter on the floor.

"Oh God! I am so sorry!" I profusely apologize as the man whose name I can't quite remember jumps away from me.

"It's alright, suppose I was gonna end up sticky tonight anyway. I'll be back." He shoots me a wink as he makes off in the direction of the bathrooms. I take the brief moment to escape to the bar, being careful to not slip on the alcohol or broken glass scattering the floor.

I push past the glitter and sweat coated bodies, pushing myself into a corner where I don't think my former dance partner will find me. One of the bartenders comes over to take my drink order not long after I get into my seat.

"What can I get for you?" The man asks quickly, obviously on the verge of losing it due to the new year's rush tonight.

"She'll have a vodka cranberry and I'll have a beer." A voice says from behind me, a voice I know extremely well. I didn't know he was going to be here tonight. Not a single person thought to mention that to me? The bartender makes a move to speak but the man behind me continues, "Brand doesn't matter, just whatever you have." The bartender just nods then scurries off to get our drinks.

I slowly turn on my stool to face him.

"Jack." I say, acknowledging him.

"y/n." He says back, sending shivers down my spine with just how he says my name. He moves closer, keeping me between the counter and his body. Leaning over his body almost touches mine, he keeps his eyes on me, his face getting closer, and for just a second I think he's about to kiss me, but his fingers wrap around the beer bottle that was placed on the counter and suddenly he's back where he was originally standing. "You seem to be having fun tonight."

"You've been watching me?" I blurt out before I could think. Instead, grabbing my drink, putting it to my mouth before I could say anything else.

"Hard not to when you're basically letting whoever that was fuck you in front of everyone." He bitterly spits out. He's jealous? He's not allowed to be jealous. He doesn't want me, I got that loud and clear.

"So? Why do you care?" His eyes snap to me. "I'm not yours, I never was." I break my eyes away from his, suddenly thinking about how interesting my drink looks. He smirks at my sudden movement, his fingers grip my chin and force me to look at him. His face is so close to mine again, I can feel his breath on my face, can smell the alcohol off his lips. He's intoxicating. I clench my thighs together at the small act. Even like this he still has so much power over me. I am undoubtedly his.

His eyes flick from my eyes down to my clenched thighs to my eyes again to the countdown clock behind me and finally back to my eyes. "Thirty minutes till midnight. Meet me on the balcony upstairs in fifteen?" He's asking but it comes out as more of a command.

"Why would I do that?" I push back. I can at least hold onto a little bit of my dignity during this. Can't I? Might be debatable.

"Because I made a mistake two weeks ago." He whispers against my lips. My eyes flutter shut, he's gone when I open them.

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

Fifteen minutes went by quicker than I would've liked for them to. I still haven't made up mind on if I should talk to him or not, but my body decided that I'd still go. I slowly made my way up, giving myself more time to collect my thoughts. I hadn't talked to him properly since that night.

It was a night out after a big win, Jack had invited me and some friends to go out with him and the team. Teasing remarks were thrown at me about how I look at Jack like I was in love. I never did hide my staring well. He had noticed too, how when he looked over at me, my eyes were already on him. Adoration was obvious in my eyes when they were on him. When I got quiet and didn't make any attempt to shoot down the accusations they all got loud. "You love Jack!" They shouted over and over. My cheeks flushed, embarrassment flooded up veins, I had to get away from it.

He heard. I turned to leave the group and he was behind me, eyes wide and jaw slack in shock. He was frozen, a deer in headlights. Me whispering his name snapped him out of his daze causing him to walk off in the opposite direction. I made the mistake of going after him.

"We said no strings attached." He said after the door slammed behind me, his back still facing me.

"I know." My words came out whispered, I was terrified of this. This was never meant to happen. Feelings were never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to find out that one of our few rules were broken.

"We can't continue like this." He finally turned and faced me. He showed no emotion, he was so goddamn hard to read. His blank facial expressions would be the bane of my existence.

"I know." I whispered again, the only words I could get out. I fucked up, by catching feelings, by continuing this when I knew I caught feelings. I tried to push them down and pretend that they didn't exist, but it just wasn't enough.

"I don't love you." I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears start to well up and not daring to let them have the chance of escaping. I knew how he felt, but hearing it was a completely different feeling.

"I know." I sobbed out. He was gone by the time I opened my eyes.

Here I was, yet again, going after him. I somehow made it to the top of the stairs and through the crowd of dancing bodies. There he was, standing on the balcony, leaning over the railing and looking out at the Hudson. I stood there for a good minute, just staring at him, debating on if it was even worth listening to him. Did he really make a mistake or was he just feeling guilty that he didn't reciprocate my feelings?

"What was the mistake?" I finally ask.

His head whips around so fast that I almost think that he's about to give himself whiplash. A small laugh like huff comes out as I walk further out onto the balcony.

"I almost thought you weren't gonna come." His voice is softer, careful, like he was actually scared of the thought that I wouldn't meet him. I look back at the countdown clock on the wall, ten minutes to midnight.

"I like to be fashionably late." He lets a small laugh escape at my comment. God, I love that sound.

"You always have." He turns away again, hands gripping the railing, knuckles turning white from the tension.

"You still haven't answered my question." I say, waiting for him to finally tell me what the mistake was. Was he regretting ending us or how he spoke to me?

"That night." He starts to say before cutting himself off, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Yes?" I nudge his leg with the tip of my heel. He looks at me, eyes scanning my face like he's trying to read my thoughts. Trying to get any idea of what I'm thinking.

"I lied to you." No. "I said I didn't love you." No. "I lied." No.

I should be wanting to hear this, but I don't. I never thought I'd be the type of person to run back to a man just because he gives me a pretty apology and I will not start now, especially when I know it's not true.

"You don't love me, you just miss the sex. Don't worry, you'll find someone else to suck your dick." I move to walk away before I feel this hand come up to grip my arm. He was not going to make this easy for me. All I want to do is go home and crawl under my blankets, forget that all of this even happened in the first place.

"Please, just hear me out." I turn my head to look at him and goddamn those eyes that make me want to melt. He's looking at me so sweetly, I've never seen him look at anyone like this.

"Make it quick." I brush off his hand and lean back towards the railing.

"Oh come on, you know I don't do quickies." He attempts to make a joke, a playful smile pulling on his lips. It quickly fades though as he get serious again. "I broke our rule before we even made it." My head snaps up at his words. What?

"I loved you before we slept together that first time." He can't be telling me the truth. No, our first night together was a drunken mess that was just meant to be a one night stand. The relationship that came after was just mutually beneficial, he didn't have to worry about someone running to the tabloids and I got someone who touched me in a way I didn't think was possible.

"Stop lying to me." I choke out. I don't need a pity confession from him, especially when I just want to leave him behind next year which is in, I quickly check the clock, three minutes.

"I'm not!" He counters back just as the words leave my mouth.

"If you loved me you wouldn't have reacted like that." My eyes are brimming with tears, this is not how I wanted my night to go. I just wanted to find a new guy to kiss at midnight to make me forget about Jack.

"I never thought you'd feel the same." How he could think that is astounding. I don't think he realizes just how magnetic he is, and not just because he's Jack Hughes, hockey star. No, he was much more than that. A good friend, a shoulder to lean on, someone that listens when you really need it, a respectful person who makes you feel like you're floating when his attention is on you. "I'm not good at expressing my emotions."

"Yeah, no shit!" I nearly scream at him. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"I want to start fresh next year." He admits, his eyes lock back onto mine. "If you gave me another chance, I promise, I won't fuck it up again." He's not lying, he's being genuine. I can see it written all over his face, the softening of his eyes, the breaking down of his walls. He's having a hard time even attempting to be vulnerable about this.

The shouting from the party starts to get louder. "Ten!" Maybe I should give him another chance. "Nine!" If I get hurt again then it's on me. "Eight!" He is who I want to be with. "Seven!" Why not? Is this not what I wanted just hours ago? "Six!"

"Kiss me." I tell him.

"Five!"

"What?" He sputters out.

"Four!"

"You heard me." I say, giving him a soft smile so that he knows I truly mean it.

"Three!" He shifts his body to be parallel mine. "Two!" His hands cup my cheeks. "One!" His lips meet mine as literal fireworks go off. "Happy New Year!" People shout around us. But my mind is just on him. As he's pulling me as close as humanly possible but it's still not enough.

My hands snake up with his abdomen, fingers gripping at anything they can. His hands move to my hair, to my neck, down my chest, caressing softly down to my hips, pulling and pleading to get as close as possible. My body was being set alight, the familiar feeling I've been yearning for. He's pulling sounds out from me that I've never made before. It's from the feeling that he's fully mine now, no hesitancy in his movements, he's confident and proud in what he's doing.

My fingers move up to curl around strands of his hair, pulling his face fully flush to mine, lips melding and moving against each other at a fiery pace. We break away unfortunately to catch our breath, our smiling faces still touching, neither one of us making an attempt to move farther away. In fact, he's nuzzling his face even closer into mine, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do with me now?" I ask against his lips, looking up into those beautiful, mind melting, ocean like eyes.

"Start the year off right, by apologizing in so many ways." He says then capturing my lips again before dragging me through the crowd of bodies, down the stairs, and out of the door.

#alina writes #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl imagine

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anxious-lee · 8 months

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The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||

A/N: this entire fic was inspired by that one scene where Al threatens Husk in ep 5. it broke my heart to see him so utterly petrified so I wrote this as a hurt/comfort for myself

Warnings: mentions of Alastor's control over Husk, slight NSFW language but it's not actually sexual I just didn't have any synonyms for what I meant lol

Word count: 2,466

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When you're an Overlord of Hell, you tend to get pretty comfortable with staying in control.

Because one wrong move can mean the end of the line.

Husk knew that better than most.

And even now, after all that power of his was lost, he still found himself more suited to calling the shots in whatever situation he found himself in. It was just easier that way. If he could remain on top of things, then nothing would go wrong. Mostly.

That feeling of security never lasted long, though, because sooner or later, he was reminded of the terrible choice he made long ago. That he gave away his autonomy to the most psychotic demon in hell.

The way he spoke to him. Like he was so small. And insignificant. Like he existed purely for the bastard's own amusement and nothing else. Any input given was condescended to, patronized, and dehumanized. It formed an ugly little pit in Husk's chest. How little control he had once Alastor stepped into the room. It scared him, in a way that so few things did.

At least he had someone else to talk to who knew how he felt.

Speaking of whom, Angel Dust strutted into the bedroom, sporting a fluffy silk robe.

"Hope I didn't make you wait too long~" he whined seductively.

"Not long at all," the other purred.

The two settled down together in bed, soaking in each other's embrace.

Tonight was all about them, huddled together in hell's moonlight.

Husk remained still as Angel shifted downward until his head fit under Husk's chin, knowing just where to go.

He loved to be pampered, that much was obvious.

It was peaceful for some time before Angel's eyes suddenly blinked open.

"Hey. How come you never want a turn at being the little spoon? I'm not unreasonable, I'm sure we could share," he said coyly.

Husk didn't quite know what to say to that. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken in words. Husk dominated, Angel submitted (in more ways than one). It seemed almost absurd to suggest that Husk would be the one being given affection.

"Nah, I'm good. You look pretty comfy down there, anyway."

Angel, however, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pulled himself back to get a good look at the cat's face, cocking his own head curiously. Who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end? Even once? It couldn't be understated how warm and protected one could feel in the arms of another. And Husk didn't want that? Did he feel pressured to say that because he knew Angel liked to take that spot?

"Really? You THAT much of a top that you can't play second fiddle once?" said Angel.

"I'm just not a big... "softy-cuddles" kinda guy, as if you already couldn't tell," Husk admitted, gesturing to his overall gruff demeanor.

Angel studied his face.

"Not buying that for a second," he said, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest. "Come on, you're missing out!"

"That's sweet, babe, but I'm-"

"Just five minutes?" Angel pleaded, holding five fingers up in front of him, "Five minutes of me cuddling you for a change. If you decide you hate it, I won't bring it up again. I just... you're always taking care o' me. I want to give some of that back to you, ya'know? You deserve it."

Fuck.

How was he supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?

Besides, it couldn't hurt... right?

"Fine," Husk relented.

"Yay!" His boyfriend cheered.

They rearranged their positions; Husk now farther down the length of the bed and Angel wrapping all three pairs of arms around him like a furry burrito. His knees and head also tucked themselves inward to cradle the cat properly.

It still made Husk a little tense, letting someone handle him so willfully, but the touch was too nice to deny for very long. Thoughts of safety oozed into his brain as his body relaxed against the chest behind him.

"See? Now isn't this nice?" said Angel softly, barely above a whisper, "For a man who supposedly doesn't little-spoon, you've got the moves down pat."

"I'm not making any moves," Husk mumbled, smiling loudly in his voice.

"Well, you're relaxed, aren't ya?"

In a way.

Angel peered down at the bundle of fuzz, taking in how much shorter he was in comparison.

"Awww! I never noticed how cute you were from up here." His hand began petting the top of the kitty's head, smoothing down the hair.

And there was that feeling again. The one that couldn't let Husk enjoy a good thing while he had it. The fear of releasing control.

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled, having no control over the defensiveness in his voice.

Angel, ever oblivious, pressed on. "Oh, but you are to me~. My sweet little Husky~."

Finally, the camel's back broke under that straw.

"Just stop, okay?! I don't-" Husk took a much-needed breath, sitting up, "I know being treated like a toy is your thing, but it's not mine. I don't like being talked to like I'm a pet. Like all I am is your little dancing monkey." It dawned on him just how much of all that was directed at Alastor. The words sunk in like cement in a lake, and he turned his eyes away, unable to look at what he just ruined.

Angel blinked. All of sudden, the moment had soured, and he had no clue why. Was it something he said? Husk said he didn't want to be treated like a toy. Is that how he felt? Like he wasn't valued? That wasn't what he was trying to say at all! It was adoration! Not condescension.

"What...?" Angel breathed.

"Forget it. Just, I'm sorry-"

"No! No, don't apologize," Angel interrupted, choosing his next words carefully, "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It wasn't what I meant to say. I wasn't tryin' to say you were weak or small. I was... I was trying to tells you that I adore ya. You do so much for me and our friends. You look out for us, and protect us, and listen to our bullshit problems all the time.

"I think so highly of you, Husk. You don't take shit from no one, not even me. You're unafraid to speak your mind. You know how to keep your head when life gets messy. I got nothing but respect for you. That's why I wanted to do all this. That's why I want to pamper you with love and shit. Because you're always so strong, and I wanted to... I don't know... give you the space where you didn't have to be strong. Not with me."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Husk couldn't find the words even if he tried. He had never heard such meaningful things spoken about him. Him, the grouchy barfly. How could he possibly come back from such a beautiful declaration? Especially now with how foolish he felt. It had never occurred to him that accepting affection was an act of good, and not an admission of weakness. That someone could be trusted to hold him in their hands and lift him up rather than drag him down.

Angel could never be Alastor. This was not a hostage situation.

This was a security.

One that he felt that he needed in this moment more than ever.

"Fuck... I'm sorry. I messed up everything and spoiled the mood. I'm still not very good at this whole intimacy stuff," Husk sighed.

"I know, and it's okay. I can teach you," Angel cupped his hand around Husk's cheek.

Husk leaned into the touch. "And uh... thanks. For what you said."

"I meant it."

What did Husk do on Earth to deserve such an Angel?

"Look, if uh. Ahem. If you still wanted to... to do what you were doing before... you know, I won't fight you," Husk stammered, falling quieter with each word.

If that's the only means of permission that Angel can get right now, then he'll take it. He gently eased Husk onto his back once more.

"Good. 'Cause I still have lots more love to give you, sweetcheeks." Angel's iconic smile returned.

Even though Husk basically just admitted he wanted Angel to keep going, his praises were beginning to fluster him. The corners of his lips started to rise, and the only defense he had against them was to turn his face away from the man in front of him.

"You like it when I talk to you like that, huh, baby? Do you hear in my voice how much I'm crazy about you? How I'd do anything for ya? Cause I would~. There's nothing that you don't deserve," Angel said, scratching oh so lightly beneath Husk's chin.

Husk squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered to his smile and tried to crush Angel's hand with his neck.

"It's true~. Because you're just the cutest little thing alive! Er, unalive, so to speak," the spider said, feeling encouraged by this reaction, and bringing another hand to scritch in the middle of his side.

Before he could stop it, a giggle escaped from Husk's mouth. Mortified, he then clamped his jaw shut, holding any more upcoming laughs in.

"You don't have to pretend for me, baby. It's just us here," said Angel, now bringing all three sets of arms into the mix. One pair was tracing his sides, another scritching either sides of his neck, and the last drumming their fingers torturously over his belly.

The giggles rose back up again, and this time shutting his mouth wasn't keeping them at bay. If he weren't so stubborn, he might've given in by now. But it was just too embarrassing.

Husk clapped his paws over his mouth, and while it did (partially) succeed in quieting his laughter, it didn't do anything to remedy the tickly sensations now all over his torso. He twitched and quivered under the touch, but with Angel hovering over him, it didn't leave much room for reprieve.

"This looks like it really tickles. I'm sure you'd feel better if you let all those laugh out!" Angel encouraged, "Pleeeeeease? For me? For yourself?"

Still, he didn't budge.

"Okay. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you've left me with no otha' options." Angel took one hand that was scratching his chin and took both of Husk's paws in it, holding them above the cat's head.

The effect was gradual.

At first, you couldn't hear a peep. Then, over a matter of seconds, Husk's giggles began to bubble up once more, fighting their way to the surface, and tickling him from the inside out.

It was over. Before long, there was nothing between the loving attacker and the melodic sound he adored so much. It started out deeper and huskier, much like his normal speaking voice, but with each passing moment, it grew higher in pitch; the kind of laugh he reserved only for his softer moments with Angel.

The spider took this as a sign to continue and deepened the pressure of all of his appendages, digging into the jittery muscles.

Husk couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He sounded nothing like the bitter old drunk he normally was. In its place, was a goofy little lovesick fool who laughed like no one in the world could hear him. He guffawed and chortled and cackled with reckless abandon.

"There it itihis! There's that gorgeous laughter!" Said Angel. "For a moment there, I thought you was bout to explode!"

The compliment somehow made everything worse. The helplessness of the situation was still there, the feeling of being small, but it was... different. Like he was small enough to be held in someone's palm and protected from all harm. It felt safe.

Husk's cheeks began to burn red.

Hopefully, Angel would be too distracted to notice.

"Aw baaabe! Are you blushin'?!"

Fuck.

As if on cue, his cheeks burned brighter.

"Am I making you feel flustered~? Does it make it tickle more?"

"WOHOHOULD YOU SHUHUT UHUHUP?!"

"So it does. Hmm," Angel hummed as he started moving his hands faster and faster up and down his body. Up his sides, then down his sides, up his tummy, then down his tummy.

It was maddening.

It was tortuous.

It was wonderful.

If Heaven didn't feel like this, he didn't want it. If salvation didn't give him the same amount of relief and safety and joy that playing with his lover gave, then it wasn't worth it. He'd stay in this inferno of hell forever if it meant he could stay with Angel. Stay in this moment.

The demon in question kept on with his teases.

"Who's the cutest little thing~?" Angel cooed as he noticed Husk jump when he touched the lowest portion of his belly, "Ohoho, looks like someone's ticklish! Coochie coochie coooo~!"

Just when Husk thought he couldn't laugh any harder, he did.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU FUHUHUCKING PRIHIHICK HAHAHA!" Husk snorted.

"Oho my gosh! You sound just like Fat Nuggets!" Angel chortled.

Husk's laughter was beginning to go silent, and started getting wheezier. This, Angel knew, meant it was time to stop.

"Alright, doll, I think you've had enough," Angel said as he released his prisoner.

As the spider removed his hands from his body, Husk started panting and giggling hysterically, still feeling the phantom sensations on his skin.

"Need some help there?" Angel offered, moving his hands back towards the other's belly.

Husk curled away from his hands, "Dohohon't!"

"I'm not gonna tickle ya, I swear! I'm just gonna get the leftover tickles to go away. Okay?"

Husk nodded hesitantly and revealed his stomach to him.

Angel's hands met his fur, and although it did jump at first, the firm pressure and massaging motions rubbed away the remaining tickles, just like he said it would.

"Dahamn. That really works." Husk breathed.

"Right? Now do you feel better?"

"Yeah," Husk sat up as Angel gave him room, "You know, for such a compliant gentleman, you sure do know how to take charge."

Angel swiveled to Husk with his mouth agape. "I can be a boss when I wanna be!"

"Heh. Sure, power bottom."

Angel reached for Husk's right foot (or paw) and skittered one set of fingers over it.

"NonononONONOHOHO! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK! I tahahake it bahahack! Hehehehe!"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Angel stopped and huffed with a wink, nothing but kind love behind his eyes, "So. You ready for bed?"

"After all that laughing? Hell yes I am. I might even sleep through tomorrow." Husk said tiredly.

Angel chuckled, sidling up behind Husk and gently cacooning his arms around him again.

"This okay?"

Husk sighed.

"It's perfect."

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Wooh! That was a rollercoaster! 😅 Hope the people that wanted lee!husk enjoyed this fic 🫶

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickles #lee!husk #ler!angeldust #huskerdust tickles

505 notes · View notes

msmk11 · 1 month

Note

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

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thehistoriccemetery · 9 months

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Companions Found Crying

Back on my hurt/comfort shit again. Here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira when they are caught crying by the reader.

There are spoilers for at least Act 2, but I don’t think there’s any for Act 3.

Shadowheart

You find her late one night, just outside of camp on her knees, clutching the idol of Shar you gifted her from Grymforge. She is crying softly, but her sniffles are audible as you approach.

You ease yourself down behind her, laying a gentle hand on her back in an effort not to scare her.

You are caught by surprise as she all but sends you tumbling backwards with how hard she throws her head into your chest. The simple initiation of contact created an immediate need for more.

You stroke her hair gently. She’s taken it down for the evening, allowing you to gently run your fingers through it. She only cries harder, body nearly heaving with the force.

“What have I done?” She sobs. “What have I done?” She repeats over and over again, muffled only by your body.

“You did the right thing,” you say in response, looking down at her as she drops the idol in favor of grabbing your shirt with both hands.

“So… what, I’ve been doing the wrong thing for-for as long as I can remember?” She stammered. “I’ve dedicated my whole life to-to the wrong thing?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you can’t find the words. There was no way to answer her both honestly and helpfully.

“Was I the bad guy? Am I the bad guy?” She asks weakly. “I wanted to fight the evil… but I think the evil might be… me.”

“No,” you say, gently grabbing her wrists and looking into her teary green eyes. “You are not the villain. You never were.”

She picks up the statue on the ground and throws it in to the surrounding forest with a scream of relief. She did not believe your words. Perhaps she never would. But with you by her side, she was sure she would be would be on the right path from now on.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel had dragged you away from supper earlier that evening to spar. You had both done this several times before, but something was off about tonight.

The way she swung her sword was entirely different. Her moves were frantic and lacked her typical calculation. It was the types of swings you’d expect to see from a strong but unskilled child.

On one swing in particular, she swung hard, but in the wrong direction, allowing you to parry the blow and throw her off balance. She stumbled in a nearby stone slab, using her hands to restabilize herself.

You approached her, stepping softly and reaching a hand out to lay on her shoulder. You could tell something was wrong, but you didn’t exactly know what.

Before you could reach her, she turned to make another swing. Even though she had the element of surprise, the strike was blind and unplanned. You easily side stepped her maneuver and she fell, dropping her sword and tumbling to her hands and knees.

“Lae’zel!” You shouted. “What’s going on?” You approached her again, more cautiously this time. She reached for her sword, but you kicked it away before she could reach it.

She looked up at you, defeated. Her war paint was smeared sloppily down her face. You tossed your own weapon aside and fell to ground in front of her.

“I feel frenzied,” she admits finally. “My feelings towards you. I feel- out of control. Like if I were to lose you… I don’t know what I would do. I do not think I could bear it.”

You take one of her hands into yours and reach out with the other to stroke her cheek. “Well then it’s a good thing you’re not gonna lose me.”

“But I cannot control it,” she explains frustratedly. “I cannot even control myself in the face of it.”

You smile a little bit, allowing her to press her face into your hand. “That’s love, my dear,” you explain softly. “It is unbridled happiness in the face of uncertainty. It is brilliant and it is terrifying. And we will do it together.”

She squeezes your hand, and covers your other hand with her own. Somehow, despite all the battles she charged into head first, loving you may be the bravest thing she’s ever done.

Karlach

You find her curled up in a ball behind Dammon’s forge at the Last Light Inn. Her arms and tail are wrapped around her legs, and her teary eyes are barely visible above her knees.

“Karlach?” You call out, holding your lantern out to better illuminate her. She tucks her head into her chest to avoid your gaze.

You set down the lantern and sit down next to her. As big as she is, she feels so small and delicate as you reach out to touch her.

“Love, what’s wrong?” You ask. “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

“It’s not fair,” she cries, still not looking up at you. “It’s not fucking fair.”

You sigh. After Dammon’s news you had been waiting for Karlach to finally break. She had put on a strong face for the others. She was able to enjoy the most brilliant night with you, but her unrelenting optimism could only get her so far.

“I know love,” you say, resting your head on her shoulder. “I know.”

You both sit in silence for a moment before she finally lifts her head to look at you. “Can you at least promise me you’ll be there? I can’t bear the thought of… and doing it alone.”

The terrified look in her eyes and the way her bottom lip trembled made your heart break into a million pieces.

You kissed her on the forehead as tears threatened to fall from your own eyes. “Of course darling,” you promise. “I will be with you until the bitter end. There is nothing that could keep me from you.”

She adjusts her position and wraps her arms around you. Sobs violently tear through her body, and you felt tears pour down your cheeks.

“I don’t wanna leave. I want to be here with you forever,” she sobs. “I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love anything.”

“I love you too, darling,” you say, tucking her head under your chin. Her broken horn allowed for a perfect fit.

You didn’t know how you’d ever cope with her loss, but you knew that you’d be at her side until the end of her days.

Minthara

Minthara kneels in front of an alter, hands clasped on top of the holy surface. Tears fall silently from her eyes. Until you saw their reflection under the moonlight, you couldn’t tell she was crying at all.

It has been a very long time since you’ve known to look for Minthara here. She has not much prayed since disavowing the Absolute. In fact, she seems rather repulsed by both her previous gods.

Her eyes were closed, and if she heard you approaching she made no indication of it. She knelt silently in the moonlight.

You sat on the ground behind her for a moment, waiting for her to finish and acknowledge your presence. You were certain she was aware of it despite the lack of acknowledgment.

In time, she fell back to sit on her feet, briefly swiping away the tears that escaped her eyes. Then she adjusted her position and laid back into you.

“I have not known you to pray in a very long time,” you point out, curiously but not judgmentally. It would not be disappointing if she had turned back to the gods, just surprising.

“There are certain things,” she explains, “I feel I must pray for. Even after I have stopped praying for anything else. Even after the gods stopped listening.”

You do not ask what she prayed about, she does not offer a follow up. She only twists the two of you around, allowing you to rest your back against the alter as she lays on your chest.

You attempt to wrap your arms around her, but she gently pushes them back to your side. Her gaze seems far away, but you do not dare ask what she is thinking about. She would tell you if she wanted you to know.

Tears start to roll down her cheeks again, but she does not sniffle or cough. Her body does not shake. She is silent. And you are silent.

You feel helpless, like nothing you could do would soothe her pain. Little do you know, your silent company is everything to her.

Jaheira

Jaheira has been alive for far too long to get embarrassed about something as trivial as crying. At least, that’s what she tells you. She has never cried in front of you or anyone else for a very long time.

So when you find her going through an old box of handwritten notes from her children that never reached her, you’re surprised by the tears that threaten to smear the ink on the pages.

When she hears you approaching she hastily wipes her face with her sleeve and pretends she was not crying. “Not embarrassed” your ass.

“What are you reading?” You ask, looking down at the sloppily written notes in her hands.

“It’s nothing… it’s just,” her hands shake as she hold the papers. “Notes from the children from when I was away. They… um… never reached me.” The note she was currently reading seemed to be from a much younger Rion.

“In all my dedication it’s easy to forget just how much got left behind,” she says, staring once again at the letter. “I don’t regret anything- it’s just- I gave up so much….” Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to fall again.

You rest your forehead against hers, holding her face in your hands. “You’re home now,” you whisper. “And as far as your children are concerned, they turned out to be wonderful little creatures even in your absence.”

There was a lot that could not be undone. There was a lot for Jaheira to grieve and be sorry for. But with Kethric Thorm now dead for good, the healing could commence.

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short-honey-badger · 1 year

Text

Phantom Pain

Little soul mate au where they feel each other's emotional and physical pain.

Warnings! A lil bit of angst and a lot of possessive Shanks cause I just can't help myself. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Phantom Pain Masterlist

Soulmates. Just the thought of them disgusted you. What good did it do anyone in this world to have someone else's pain and trauma to worry about? The joy of meeting your other half just wasn't worth all the hurt one had to go through, in your opinion. Yours certainly did nothing but cause you grief. Hangovers that weren't yours, to wounds from swordfights and shootouts. The worst had been the day your other half had lost his right arm.

Even now, almost a decade later, that phantom pain lingers, and with it, the guilt that isn't yours that eats away at you every time you acknowledge your soulmate. You ignore it the best you can, hell, you would be happy to never meet whoever they are. And you make sure to let them know that, too, with your own frustrated feelings. However, life had rarely been kind to you, and it wasn't going to stop tonight.

You know the moment you step into the only open tavern in the sleepy little town and see the red-haired man with a black cloak on at the bar, that tonight would be it. While he is covered, you can still tell that there is nothing on his left side and your arm aches something fierce. You debate with yourself. You could run away before your possible soulmate noticed you, or you could put on your big girl panties and go order a hot drink like you had planned.

You shiver violently, and the decision is quickly made. With a world weary sigh, you hang up your wet overcoat and then casually cross the room to sit at the bar several spots away from the one armed man. You order your drink and see out of the corner of your eye him staring at you, but you stay looking forward even when you notice him scoot down to the seat next to you.

Shanks stares at the person who had come into the bar, dark gaze curious. He'd felt you the moment you had walked into the bar, all angry emotions and swirling frustration directed right at him. Even through the negativity, the Yonko was desperate to know if you were the one. And he knew the fastest way to figure that out.

The grin that splits his face is full of glee and victory as you yelp loudly when he pinches the meat of his thigh. You whip around to glare at him, eye alight with indignation, but Shanks looks like the sun and moon just fell in his lap, "Found you," he says with a teasing tilt to his voice, "I've looked for you a long time, ya know that?"

You scoff at him and loom away to take a deep sip from your cup, "And I've been running," you quip meanly. Why? Why did he have to do this ro you now of all days? All you wanted was a nice evening to yourself, and of course, your soulmate seems obnoxiously good spirited.

Shanks laughs, and you can feel his merriment and joy at finding you. Your body desperately wants to act as well, but you fight down your biology and tell it to shut up and stay down. You've faught against this your entire life. You couldn't break now.

"I know," he says, and his words make you look at him with narrowed eyes, "I'm a dangerous man, Sweetheart. I know I've caused you a lot of pain, and I'm sorry about that."

You have to turn away from him with how genuine and soft he sounds. You drink deeply again and then set your mug down with a click. You've felt his guilt before, but having words go with it made you break just a little more.

"Well. Thanks for the apology, at least," you murmur and then tense when you watch him get off the stood. He circles around you and presses his front to your back. Despite yourself, your body relaxes, as if it knows that this man is meant for you. His one hand grips your hip, thumb moving to stroke the your skin under your shirt, and you shiver unintentionally.

"I plan on making up for it," he says casually and leans forward to bury his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. You smell like the sea and something else unique just to you. He can't get enough of it.

"I don't plan on sticking around," you tell him and shift to try and get away from the man, but the obvious pirate only tightens his grip on your hip.

Shanks laughs again, but it isn't a very nice sound this time, "Sorry to burst your bubble, Hon," he whispers, and you shiver at what he says next, "You don't have much of a choice this time," the Yonko waited long enough to find you, he wasn't about to let you go now.

He leans around you, hand leaving your hip to grasp your chin, and a kiss is bestowed on your lips, soft as a daisy, "Name is Shanks, by the way. What's yours, Sweetheart?"

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #soulmates #alternate universe #fluff #angst #soulmate au #opla shanks #phantom pain

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months

Text

comforting him

(cw: age gap 25/41; nightterrors, scars from injury, könig is having a shitty day, smoking, a bit of angst maybe, smut nsfw, mdni 18+)

the part before: going for a walk

It isn’t always fun and games, like the first time König had nightterrors while I was sleeping next to him.

The scream that woke me up. My disorientation until I knew what’s going on. His big body shaking next to mine. His arms trying to hold onto something. That something being me. And I talked to him, trying to get him grounded in reality again. Soft words, whatever came to mind.

After a while he calmed down, but he didn’t want to talk about it, which is… understandable.

And it happened again today, his pained shouts pulling me from my sleep. My smaller body hanging onto his bigger, trembling one, almost shoving me off me him when he snaps out of it.

I have to tell him at least five times that I’m okay, that he didn’t hurt me at all, that nothing happened to me. And even then, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

We both don’t sleep the rest of the night. Just sitting in the living room, listening to music. I get up every time to change the vinyl or flip it to the B-side, then snuggling back into his lap.

He looks exhausted and I just want to take his discomfort away, but I don’t know how. So I just resort to softly stroking over his shoulders and back, calming him like that.

I try not to see the scars that adorn his body, cutting through the tattoos here and there. Sometimes destroying the motive that already was there. Sometimes seeming like they were worked into the design because they already were there before. My hands caress over his warm skin, trying not to linger too long in one spot. To not think about all the injuries, or about him going on another mission. Probably sooner than later.

He always holds me close to him when I sit on his lap. Just tonight it feels a little bit more like he’s holding onto me not the other way around. Not to slip away.

In the morning, I go to work, König slipping back under the covers while I get dressed.

"Get some more rest, hm?", I tell him, caressing over his cheek before giving it a little kiss. "If you can." I don't know what else to say.

He just looks so tired, dark circles under his eyes. For once looking his age – or even older.

He grabs my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles, grunting softly instead of an answer. I press his fingers before slipping out of his hold and leaving the bedroom, quietly closing the door.

I drive myself to work, yawning a little more than usually while answering emails, getting myself an extra coffee. My mind coming back to him every so often, sighing. Remembering the panic on his face, the empty look in his eyes afterwards. Cut off, inwardly suffering, silent.

When I return home, looking to hug the big guy and give him a big kiss, ask him how he is doing, he is nowhere to be found.

"König?" I call out.

Where is he? I check all the rooms, kitchen and living room at first. There isn't a trace of him, no food cooking on the stove, his glasses set aside next to the book he's currently reading.

Mimi is sleeping on the couch, the little kitty basking in the sun that is falling in through the window.

I think for a moment, almost running upstairs, but no. He wouldn't be up there, he doesn't use the office and I can't hear the shower. So I head downstairs, to the home gym. Usually, he works out while I'm at work, already showered and fresh when I return. But I don't know where else he would be. He surely would have texted me if he had gone out.

I crack the door open a little, peaking my head in. And there he is, wrecking the punching bag that's hanging from the ceiling.

Thud thud thud.

Thwack.

His fists hitting the leather repeatedly, before smacking the palm into it.

The headset is sitting fast on his head, his hair loosely tied together. His shorts tight around his thighs, his muscle shirt sweaty like the rest of him. And I try to ignore how good he looks like that.

His movements come to a halt, seeing me in the corners of his eyes, only doing a half-turn in my direction.

"Hey, how are yo-", I start, but he interrupts me, pushing one of the headphones back.

"What?", he says, louder than necessary and the impatience in his voice startles me.

"I was just-", I repeat, but the look on his face shuts me up as he finally meets my gaze. I feel like I'm intruding, disturbing him when I shouldn't be, and for a moment I don't even know what to say. Startled.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares.

My mouth drops open, hoping the right words come out, but they don't. The way he looks at me... I can't deal with. The simmering anger, the arrogance the way his chin tilts up, the brows more furrowed than I've ever seen them before.

I shake my head, breaking the eye contact for a moment, just to get away from his stare. "Uh, just- I'm sorry for disturbing you.", I finally press out, slipping back, heading out the room again.

Before I turn around, I see the anger on his face dissipate into frustration and something else I can't put my finger on it.

I rush out the door and up to living room, pacing around until Mimi comes up to me, and I pick the kitty up. Snuggling the little furball. Contemplating if it might be better to pack up my stuff. Give him his space.

I shake my head. No, that would be shitty too. Running away because he has a shitty day.

I sigh. I feared that something like that might happen when I was hesitant to go stay with him. And it's not like he shouldn't be allowed to have shitty days. I just don't really know what to do about them. Yet.

I hear steps, heavy thuds on the stairs, coming to a halt, and I turn to look.

He just stands there, on the top stair, almost hitting his head on the staircase above. The headphones around his neck, his hair falling down into his face. Just looking at me, his arms hanging to his sides, his shoulders slumped down. The distance between us too great, but he doesn't dare come closer.

"I'm sorry, Liebes.", he says, his voice hoarse, the words quieter than I would have thought. Defeat and apology in his expression.

I just stand there, looking at him. I mean, I knew he had troubles. The self-imposed lonesomeness. And I'm not talking about staying home a lot, preferring to be by himself. The stuff about his work that he doesn't want to talk about. The nightterrors, just like today. I don't fully believe him when he says, he doesn't have them often.

The scowl on his face when he thinks I'm not looking. The simmering anger that's seemingly always there. Directed at himself rather than the people around him. Well, most of the time at least.

"It's okay.", I finally say.

He shakes his head, making a step forward, just a small one. "It's not." He sighs. "I'm usually better at hiding... it." Another step. "I'm not angry with you, I swear."

I sigh too. I knew that but apparently, I still needed to hear him say it. A soft sad smile stalks onto my face as I come closer until I'm standing before him.

"You shouldn't need to hide it.", I say, snuggling into his chest, pressing myself against him, still holding Mimi.

He closes his arms around me, embracing us both. He's sweaty, but I don't care right now. I need this closeness.

"You're here because I broke your bed, not to babysit a manchild.", he says flatly, but the edge in his words jabbing at himself is still obvious. And I don't want to point out the flaws in them. I’m not here because he broke my bed. This isn't at all what this is about, but he still seems to be in whatever spiral he was just moments ago.

"I'm not.", I answer. "Something is troubling you, that doesn't make you a child nor does me asking you about it make me a babysitter." He doesn't say anything, his arms only hugging me a little tighter. "So... You wanna talk about it?", I ask.

I can feel him hesitate and then shake his head. "No, I'm..." He breaks off. "I just have to deal with it, okay?" He softly strokes over my hair. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But I still do.", I say, softly, finally looking back up at him. I can't stand the defeated look on his face. He averts his eyes, hugging me closer.

And we just stand here in the living room. The three of us in a hug, only our soft breaths cutting through the silence.

Before he breaks it. "I actually got the information on the next mission.", he says, his voice steadier now.

I perk up. "And?"

"I'm leaving next week.", he answers.

I swallow, hard. "Which day?", I want to know, so I can count the days.

"Wednesday." So six days, including today. Shit.

"Okay." I press myself into him, Mimi still in between, and she meows. Tearing me from my dwindling thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby.", I coo, pressing a kiss to her head, and she meows again, freeing herself from my hold, jumping down to the floor.

He takes the chance to pull me flush against him. "Me too.", he mumbles into my hair.

My arms wrap around his waist, my hands stroking down his back. Hugging him back, thinking about what to do.

If he doesn't wanna talk about it, then maybe a distraction will help ease his mind. Or at least take his mind off things. And mine too, now that I know he’ll be leaving.

"Some, uh, friends of mine asked if I wanna go out for some drinks.", I start. "We could join them if you want to." The tips of my fingers brushing over his lower back. "We can also stay home, of course, you know – whatever you prefer. But they actually wanted to go to the pub where we met." I smile up at him, remembering that moment when he got my attention with a simple compliment of my bandshirt.

"That..." He hesitates, but returns the smile then, although meekly. "That actually sounds like a good idea."

I get onto my tiptoes to finally get the kiss I came looking for earlier. He meets me halfway, kissing me, and the way his lips feel against mine sets me a little more at ease.

"Shower first?", he says then, his eyes intently on mine.

"Yes, stinky.", I quip which makes him laugh a little before I pull him with me up the stairs.

I hear him sigh behind me, a deep defeated tone, and I stop in my tracks again, but he just lifts me and carries me to the bathroom.

After the shower he looks refreshed, in a fresh band shirt and his favorite pair of cargo pants. Smelling like his usual shampoo, and he even put on a little bit of aftershave.

He's looking a bit more like himself. Especially when he puts on his leatherjacket, flicking his hair back with a trained move of his arm, so it isn't stuck in the collar, but falls down his shoulders.

The frown on his face is still a little more etched in than usually. It lightens up a bit when we sing along to Slipknot's "Before I forget" on the drive to the pub, and even more so when we join my friends there.

After the general introductions we get some drinks and settle down at the table. My hand in his, underneath the tabletop.

"Can I try? Just a sip." He points at my drink, an orangy-red liquid, more sweet than sour.

I pull one eyebrow up. "Sure, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

But he already took my glass and gulps half of it down.

My jaw drops. "You said just a sip!", I complain, loudly.

He smiles at me, a lop-sided apology, the smile that never lets me be mad at him, before his face contorts into a grimace. "You were right, I don't like it.", he comments.

The nerve. He sees my exasperated expression and laughs. His big hand grabs the back of my head and he pulls me in to press a big kiss to my cheek, and the public display of affection makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter and my exaggerated exasperation disappear.

"I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he says, pulling away, getting up and heading to the bar.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. Looking after him, my eyes are panning from his broad shoulders down his back until they land on his tight ass as his hips sway. Blatantly ogling him, but I can't help it.

Robin’s hand on my forearms pulls my attention to them, and they start to tell me about their newest obsession: little, tiny octopuses. They’re showing me pictures and videos of the cute and small creatures when König gets back. He sets the new drink onto the table in front of me, I glance at him, mouthing 'thank you'. And he just winks.

It doesn't take long until he joins the conversation with the younger guys at the table which quickly turns into a trip to the billiard table. And my friends come in all shapes and sizes, still König towers over all of them. His tall stature bending down over the side of the table to line up the ball, sinking it in the right hole with precision. He is an insertion specialist after all.

Robin and I are laughing and giggling, making the stupid jokes we always do, and I’ve almost forgotten about the troubles today, getting myself another drink.

I look over to the guys again and König’s talking to Dan. Bits and pieces I pick up are telling me that they're talking about some soccer teams and matches. I grin to myself because I know how glad Dan must be that he finally got someone around who's interested in that, because none of us are.

He catches me staring at him, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smirk. I blow him a little kiss before I take my jacket and head out the front door for a smoke.

Moments later, the door behind me croaks and I turn around. The big guy is standing in the entryway, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

“You smoke?” His deep voice fills the silence of the breezy night.

I sigh, juggling the bag of tobacco, rolling papers and filters in my hands. “Used to, but sometimes when I’m out with friends… or stressed… I still go for a smoke.”, I answer, a wry apologetic smile stalking onto my face.

He nods like he understands, putting his hand in his pocket, leaning beside me on the wall. A simple gesture, but when it comes to him, I find even the most minute of movements hot.

“Me too, especially when I’m at work… or having one of those days. Like today.”, he says, the smile turning lop-sided, and after a pause adds: “So… Can I have one as well?”

I chuckle, hiding my slight surprise. “Sure. Should I or do you know how to roll one?”, I ask in return.

His extended hand, the palm turned up, and a little tilt of his head are his only answer. I hand him a filter and a rolling paper with some tobacco, getting myself the same items before I put the tobacco baggie back into my purse.

When I turn to him again, my attention gets pulled in by his hands that softly take the little paper, putting the filter on the right side, pushing some of the tobacco in. Taking it between his middlefingers and thumbs, rolling it up in a swift trained motion. The ease with which he does it is impressive, even more so considering how tiny the cigarette is compared to his hands.

Then he lifts it to his mouth, his tongue darting out, licking over the paper in one swift go, to make it stick.

My eyes go wide, my breath halts in my throat, and I have to remember myself that I need to breathe.

He sees my expression which pulls a laugh from him. “Never thought you’d be jealous of a cigarette, hm?”

That pulls me from my trance, I laugh and playfully smack his arm. “Oh, stop it.” I shoot him a look, my eyes sparkling at him while I tease: “I know, I’ll be getting that as soon as we come home.”

He lights his cigarette with the zippo he always carries in the right outer pocket of his cargo pants, taking a drag and blowing the smoke into the air. “Don’t you know it.”, he says, the devilish smirk coming out. His hand drops down, pinching my butt playfully, and I yelp a little bit, almost dropping my unrolled cigarette.

“König!” But he just grins down at me.

Then I finally manage to roll it, stick the filter end between my lips and search for my lighter.

“Here, let me.”, he says, holding out the zippo in front of my face, the clank of metal and then the familiar snap, before a little flame burns at the top.

I shoot him a thankful look and lean forward until the flame catches on and the cigarette burns. I take the first drag, inhaling it deeply.

He puts the lighter away again, and I fall against him, resting my head against his chest while his arm drops around me, pulling me into him. Sharing this moment together while we smoke our cigarettes.

“To think that this all started because I complimented you on your shirt…”, he says, seeming a little bit caught up.

I laugh, the light sound getting carried away into the quiet night sky. “Is a little crazy, right?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

We fall silent, puffs of smoke inhaled and exhaled. Soft noises from inside the bar making it less quiet. The air around us is thick with things we don’t say.

I think, I like you more than I ever thought I would.

I might even be falling in love with you.

And that scares me.

We excuse ourselves a little early because honestly, I'm tired from not having slept all that much tonight, and the few drinks I had made me a little tipsy. And he kind of promised to eat me out when we get home.

We get to the car and – as so often – he opens the door for me. I smile at him and climb into the seat, but he steals another kiss. One that has me panting a little harder. He pulls away and rounds the car to get into the driver side.

I sit back, turning on the music as he starts driving.

Looking at him. The streetlamps light up his face every so often, casting the one side in shadows.

Wondering what might be going on in his head, the stoic expression not giving anything away.

Whatever went on in his mind today seems forgotten about, he seems like his usual self again. But maybe he’s just hiding it? Or it helped going outside for once, and I ask myself if maybe the time we first met, he also went out to distract himself.

And I don’t even know why, but my heart starts hurting a bit.

How is it like when he is alone at home? Does he talk to nobody?

“What is it?”, he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

I look away and shake my head. “Nothing.”

“I’ve been around long enough to know that it’s never nothing.”, he says with a little sigh, an understanding smile on his face.

“Just thinking.”, I say plainly.

The smile gets a little wider. “Hmm, thinking, that’s a dangerous thing.”, he says, sounding earnest and joking at the same time.

The corners of my mouth tilt up, of their own volition. “It is.”

His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing it, and the little gesture soothes me. Pushing the thoughts away as I relax into the leather seat.

His thumb grazes over the sensitive inside of my thigh, and I shoot him a look. The small grin is the only hint that he’s doing it on purpose, only getting wider as he brushes further up until his hand is between my thighs. My fingers clasp over his, but I don’t pull them away. Shamelessly grinding against the palm, relishing the delicious friction and paying him back for his cheeky move. Now it's his turn to shoot me a look.

The sleepiness is almost forgotten about, and the slight tipsiness does nothing but make me even hotter and hornier.

Parking the Mercedes at his usual spot in the garage, he cuts off the engine and I jump out the car before he can even get out and open the door for me.

I take a few steps back, biting my lip, trying to hide the grin that stalks onto my face as he makes his way around the car. His gaze is on me, looking at me from under his brows, unbridled desire in his eyes.

His broad shoulders seem even wider with his signature leatherjacket, his hair moves, the long strands falling down his shoulders, while he comes closer with long strides until his boots bump into my converse and his arms close around me. He almost towers over me, leaning me back in his embrace. His lips crash into mine while my hands grab him, trying to get even closer to him.

We don't say anything, but I can feel the simmering intensity as he deepens the kiss and picks me up, making the last few steps into the house. My legs close around his waist when he pushes through the door, and we're both not breaking the kiss, desperate for more.

I think back to the first time we hooked up, how he carried me upstairs to my flat. How the anticipation and excitement simmered in my veins back then, and his touches still consume me and make me wanna devour him, but it has become so familiar at the same time. How his fingers press into my thighs, grabbing the soft pillows. How his nose nudges against mine when we kiss. How he swallows up the soft noises I make, tasting every single one of them. His chest against mine, the plane of muscles warm and pillowy.

His scent, his taste. How the long strands of his hair feel as I run my fingers through them.

He sets me down on the dresser in the hallway, pulling my shoes off, kicking his boots away and getting rid of the leatherjacket. He doesn't have to say it, I know what he wants, and pop the button on my pants, lower the zipper. His hands grab the waistband, helping me get it off. My pants and panties fall to the floor before he drops to his knees, his eyes fixed on my pussy as he spreads my legs and places them over his broad shoulders.

He pushes his hair out of his face and dives in, his mouth pressing against my lips, and I moan as his tongue darts out and licks me for the first time.

My hands hold onto the surface beneath me, my body slumping back into the wall, the sensation of the cold brick against my shoulders,while he starts to eat me out. Soft groans and mewls drop from his lips, getting lost in the slick and warmth. His lids are closed, his lashes adorning his cheeks, seeming almost solemn. The stern expression he usually wears on his face nowhere to be found, the frustration that was plaguing him today slowly dissipated throughout the evening and I can't find any of it left in his eyes when he looks up at me. Finding mine, holding the gaze.

His nose is buried in the soft curls as his mouth closes around my clit, sucking, licking over it with his flat tongue, coaxing moan after moan from me.

My hands dart out, the one grabbing his fingers that press into my thigh, the other caressing down the side of his face.

"Fuck, can't get enough of you.", he breathes, licking me again. Lapping up the wetness, desperately tasting me.

My eyes turn up, breaking the eye contact, my thighs are starting to shake and I come on his tongue. His hands are steadying me, so I don't fall off the dresser, my body writhing, my head pressing against the hard wall behind me. My moans resound in the small space around us, the stimulation making me lose my mind.

He doesn't stop until I grab his hair, pulling him up to me. He grunts, reluctantly breaking away from my pussy, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss that I answer with the same frenzy. Tasting myself on his lips.

He hastily unbuckles his belt, freeing his erection that has been straining against the zipper, hard, the tip smeared with pre-cum. Breaking the kiss to look down between our bodies. He grabs himself by the base, slowly dragging it over my pussy. Finding the entrance and dipping into the wetness.

His eyes are intently on mine, my mouth falling open as he stretches me, my eyebrows turning up. His jaw drops, his expression mirroring mine.

He's so close, our panting breaths intermingling. A choked moan rising up my throat when he fills me, the tip pressing up against my cervix.

My legs close around his waist, pulling him closer. He lifts me off the dresser, but we don't get far as he presses me up against the wall, steadying me with his arms. Fucking into me, his hips pushing forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.", he curses, the desperation in his voice sending a pang of need between my thighs.

I hold onto his shoulders, my back pressed against the wall behind me, meeting his movements.

"So tight, Liebes.", he grunts. "Driving me crazy."

A little laugh shakes me before him bottoming me out makes me moan again. "What should I say, huh?", I shoot back, teasing him.

He halts and captures my face between his thumb and pointer. "Oh, but you always take me so well.", he tells me, knowing what those words do to me. And they don’t miss their impact.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingle running down my spine. “Fitting together like two puzzle pieces.”, I joke, which pulls a deep hearty laugh from his throat.

“Well put.”, he says, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He hoists me up again, making our way to the bedroom. His dick moving inside me with every single one of his steps, and I sigh as I snuggle into the crook of his neck.

He slips out of me and almost throws me down into the mattress, quickly getting off his clothes, and I pull my shirt above my head, fully naked now. I lie down, my belly against the sheets.

The mattress dips down as he drapes his body over me, his warm skin against mine. I look back at him, propping myself up on my forearms. Inviting him in, and the hurry drops away again.

He brushes my hair out the way, looking into my eyes, as his dick slides between my thighs. My mouth falls open, little panting breaths dropping from my lips, when he drags him himself back and forth, his length pressing against my slick pussy.

He slips into me, filling me up again, and I relish the feeling, familiar but still intense every time. He pulls me up, his hand grabbing the back of my head, kissing me. His lips softly against mine as he backs off and presses into me again. Slowly, savouring how I take every inch, until he's fully seated inside me. Rolling his hips, almost lazily.

Soft, so soft.

“Feels so good.”, I mumble into the kiss, thrusting my ass back, meeting his languid strokes.

Losing myself in the hazy pleasure, the slow and sweet fuck. Moving in unison until his hips are rutting forward, stuttering, as he loses the rhythm. Still kissing me while he comes inside me.

"Ngh, Liebes...", he grunts against my lips, pushing in one last time, slumping down on me, and I feel his weight on me for a moment.

I cradle his face, my thumb coasting over his jaw, wiping away a drop of sweat. His panting breaths fill the room, and I can't help but smile. Pressing another kiss to his lips, a small sweet one.

It seems to stir him awake and he doesn't stay slumped over me, propping himself up on his hands again, smirking down at me.

He pushes into me again, my mouth shaping into an O, my eyebrows turning up, and I can feel the wetness seep out of me as his dick fills me up again.

The question on my face must be clear when I crane my neck to look up at him.

"Didn't think it was over, did you?", he drawls, starting to fuck me harder. "You can give me one more, Hexe."

"Oh fuck.", I mumble as his hips snap forward, colliding with my ass. I hold onto his arm, steadying myself, my nails burying into his muscly forearms.

I remember how he was careful with me at first, afraid to break me. How he doesn't have such reservations anymore. Thrusting into me at an almost punishing pace. Trusting that I would use my safeword if it in fact was too much.

And I remember how I imagined how fucking him must be before we did it for the first time, and how it compares to reality.

Me splayed out on the bed, my front to the mattress. Him kneeling over me, his knees framing my ass as he's buried balls deep in my pussy.

Grabbing my hips, positioning me to fuck me even deeper. Sliding in and out of me, bottoming me out which pulls whimpers from me every time. Making me lose my mind quickly.

His hair whipping back and forth when his hips snap forward, his groin pressing up against the soft pillows of my ass repeatedly.

“Good girl, oh fuck.”, he praises me. “Taking me so well…” He lets go of me, his hand coming down on my butt, and I cry out at the sting.

Alternating between my left and right cheek, reddening the skin with every slap.

My hands are fisting the sheets beneath me, and my eyes are rolling back, lewd sounds getting pulled from my throat, as he plunges his dick into me again and again.

"Fuck, König...", I sigh, his name getting swallowed up when my face gets pushed into the sheets again.

"Say it again.", he grunts, but the hard thrusts of his hips unintentionally shut me up as he leans forward again, pressing me into the mattress. "Need to hear you say it, Liebes."

And I do say his name as I come once again, the sounds turning into uncontrollable moans, and he is not stopping until I'm a writhing shivering mess beneath him and he is pressing sweet kisses to my face again.

He pulls me with him as he rolls off me, bringing my body close to his until I'm draped over him. Basking in the afterglow, pressing myself up against his warm chest, our heavy breaths intermingling.

I remember how we joked about him keeping up, him making a comment about how I should be concerned to keep up with him, and most of the time he's right, but seeing him a little out of breath after we just had sex. Just like right now. It makes me feel all kinds of things. Deliciously dirty and heartwarmingly fluffy ones.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm feeling so sleepy.", I mumble into a yawn. The sleepiness caught up and is taking over me now.

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple, his arms engulfing me. "That's okay, Liebes, just sleep.", he whispers, and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to his pillowy chest.

"G'night..."

"Gute Nacht."

~ more in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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millerscoffee · 1 year

Text

heat lightning

6.5k | sub!joel miller x f!reader

gif credit: @jdmorganz

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: NO OUTBREAK. established relationship, no age gap – up to you for joel's age but he has creaky knees so..., sub!joel, bratty!joel??, mommy kink, rope kink, dom/sub dirty talk, joel whimperin' n whinin', gagging, choking, slapping, spitting, edging (m receiving), oral (f receiving - face riding), piv (unprotected), praise kink (good boy, etc.), pet names (pet, baby boy, honey, etc.), a touch of humiliation/degradation kink (spoiler: a moment of cock shaming – every body is a lovely body!), size kink (he still got that thang tho), we walk by breeding ave., sickly sweet aftercare, lingerie. dude if i missed it - it's probably in here! no use of y/n

A/N: thank u to the sweet anon (u know who u are) who requested this almost a month ago. i hope it was worth the wait! love youuuuu!!! ♡

Joel liked having his way. Shocking.

This concept drew you to him, not only because you enjoyed being told what to do (every now and then), but even more that you wanted to challenge why he needed things to be his way in the first place.

You’ve been with Joel long enough now to know the mix of events that made him who he was. Nights and days where he felt insecure for exposing all there was to him, but he was willing to fish it out of him to you.

Only to you.

Tonight wasn’t unlike a handful of nights the two of you shared since being together and unraveling Joel’s vulnerability. It was beautiful, and in moments of softness, it was easy to reflect on how far he’d come. But, right now? You’re a little preoccupied.

---

It started earlier tonight. Joel refused to wear contacts for the fourth time in a week, and forgot his glasses just as much.

And guess who had to remind him? You! Of course! Every. Single. Time.

To wear his glasses, or put his contacts in. But the week was busy at work – Tommy gone off again. Or at least, this was his excuse. More and more excuses poured throughout the week until it was a mere grunt at your suggestion.

Your knuckles blanching until you just gave up entirely. “Ah, fuck,” you hear from the kitchen, the view of Joel rubbing his eyes not long after the sound.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” words are sharp and you clench your teeth. It catches Joel off guard at first, his head shooting up to meet your cold stare. And before he can make an attempt to straighten you out, you stand up – rushing to the kitchen. “I tell you this at least twice a fucking week. ‘Joel, wear your glasses. Joel, have you put your contacts in today?’ you know why your eyes hurt so fucking much? Because you don’t listen to me, and I’m sick of it.”

“You know it’s been a rough week,” Joel’s tyrannical now, his jaw setting – ticking forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry – did I give you permission to speak?” you raise an eyebrow waiting for a reaction, but instead you witness the shift of his hips and the drop of his gaze.

He feels the energetic shift as much as you do, and seems into it. The hitch in his breath gave him away.

“No, ma’am.”

“Bedroom. Now. Swear to god, if you make me repeat myself.”

So he goes and you follow. And you bring a dining chair with you.

Placing it down, you go to the closet to grab some clothes before turning your heel to face a man whose cock shouldn’t be so fucking hard from getting your last nerve.

“I’m going to change, and you are going to sit on this chair. Naked. Do I need to repeat myself?”

Joel beseeches you silently with his dark stare and a steadfast shake of his head, “No, ma’am.”

You don’t respond because you don’t have to and usher yourself to the bathroom – door shuts behind you and you slip into something more dominating.

---

“Darlin’, it’s a little tight,” Joel rattles now, his strength to hold back waning. The rope that curled around the strong arches of his wrists tug harshly as it found tautness from behind the chair.

His wrists and ankles tied with knots that Joel taught you how to tie long ago.

The chair at the foot of the bed.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, you peer over him, changed into laced lingerie with leather accents. Red. Cinched at the waist, your tits bloom out from the cups — daring to spill but never do. You feel sexy, and you feel in control. And fuck, you look so good. Joel knows it, the way he sops you up just by his eyes.

He’s shorter than you like this, but his body still takes up so much space, and it’s intoxicating to observe Joel in such a submissive position in his sturdy frame.

“Is Darlin’ my name?” voice flat, you prop yourself up on the edge of the chair – tilting your head to scan over his body. You take your time with each part of him. Because his wrists are tied, yes, but you look down at the rest of him, completely stripped for you. His hips jolt involuntarily, pathetically really, all from your words and you really watch between his legs. The head of his cock pulsing with blush, weeping against his stomach and thigh as it arches. And he twitches at your gaze.

“Oh, he likes that,” you remark condescendingly, and on any other day you’d be eager to wrap your lips around him. To suck him until his toes curled and your name slipped through the air from his rough, but blissed out voice. But tonight was about taking the lead, teaching a lesson. Taking him how you wanted because you could. And maybe because you loved him and wanted him to experience – to just experience without the expectation of being in command.

“Now, tell me,” you start, teasing the tops of your fingernails grazing the length of his thigh slowly – humming in approval, his body shuddering, his grunts fill the air, “what’s my name, Joel?”

“M-mommy,” the word scorches his cheeks, causing him to bite into his bottom lip and his eyes squeeze shut, precum beading to the tip. His head hangs in unbearable arousal, chin lifting to catch your eyes. The soft brown of his eyes, full of desire and willingness to do anything for you. Anything… except doing what he’s told when he’s stubborn. Your core aches when you squeeze your thighs together for relief, but you don’t falter.

“Mommy!” a fake gasp, you lean over to pat him on the cheek before smacking the skin ten percent harder, “That’s right! Good boy!”

And that wrecks him, sends his hips flying off the seat as much as he can, but you’re quick to shove them down. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, Mommy’s not done with you yet,” your fingers curl under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“How can you make me feel good, pet? Let’s use our words,” you lean down enough for him to see your tits pushed together like this and the look on his face– god, you’d bottle it. His brows wilted upwards, lips parting, and they’re so wet, so inviting, you want to kiss them for hours. The right toy for you to use in pursuit of getting yourself off.

“I—I c’n use my mouth. I wanna. Wanna be good t’ya, mama,” and he’s almost begging. He’s so close, you can tell he’s trying. It’s just that, he’s distracted– wants to devour you whole without having to ask, not like this. He’s still not used to saying the things you so easily offer him on any other day.

“You wanna be good to me,” you repeat mockingly, tongue darting to one side of your cheek, “That’s too bad. We’re not doing that yet, you still need to learn your lesson. Gotta make sure you know who’s in charge, don’t we, darlin’?”

You don’t let him answer before you sit back at the edge of the bed, your legs spread as they relax against the mattress. You watch Joel, how his head won’t look at you directly – not even if he wants to. He feels too shy, too ashamed for not listening to you, and honestly you’re sick of it because you look fucking hot.

So you clap your hand at his chin lightly, “Miller. Right here.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and those deep eyes take their precious time to rake their gaze over you.

“Is that how you act when a gorgeous lady’s in front of you?”

Joel lifts his brows first, then his eyes, “No, baby– I’m sorr–”

“Not my name.”

You see Joel’s mandible flutter again in frustration now because yes, you’re grinding his gears, but the vulnerability makes him uncomfortable, and he grits out, “No, mommy. I’m. Sorry.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice Joel,” your arms cross over your chest, leaning forward to make eye contact, and though it makes your tits raise, your body language says it all: last chance.

That seems to make him reroute his stubbornnesses because he’s back to open expressions and spread thighs – thick as his cock that weeps pitifully against his abdomen and thigh.

“Yes, ma’am.”

If you were to admit it to yourself, you’re distracted. His cock looks so good, throbbing like that – bobbing with each twitch as his balls tighten along with it and he’s so perfectly thick your mouth waters, but it is not about making his ego feel good tonight. Not yet, anyway. He must understand this behaviour is unacceptable. Just when you think about caving, you’re reminded of how fucking obstinate he’s been and you get annoyed – dominant, all over again.

“Here’s how tonight's gonna go. I’m gonna touch myself, use your mouth, and if you’re good, I’ll ride your pathetic excuse of a cock. Sound good?” you flash a sardonic grin cutting him off when his mouth opens, “Good! Now shut the fuck up.”

It shouldn’t make him hard and it shouldn’t make slick gather between your legs, but of course it does because you’re both insatiable when it comes to each other. Fueling a fire that can’t be tamed anyway, you unfurl in front of him – one palm against the lush duvet while the other trails in front of you, through the lace of your panties. You squeeze your thighs together again, spreading your mess and there’s a wicked grin on your face because you know he knows just how it feels to have those thighs squeezing around his head. To make that messy pussy of yours glide over his features. And the damp fabric emits subtle sloshes from just how turned on you are by this. You love the opportunity to have the upperhand.

Joel, he looks rabid, eyes unable to move from your core while the sweetest sounds fall out of your mouth. Like a hypnotising trick from the circling of your clothed folds – a magician’s secret. His stare is so animalistic you almost want to egg him on like a dog: this what you want, boy? But you’ve got him right where you want him, and you don’t want to take him anywhere else.

“It feels good, Joel,” you confirm with no pornographic moans. Rather a solid melody to your tone. Grounded in your power. You want Joel to know you can make yourself feel good without him, despite it being very much because of him. “Better than you can make me feel.”

And Joel can’t take it anymore – he can’t stand it when you lie to him. He’s seen you with him. How you blossom under his touch until your thighs are shaking all on their own. Seen drool spill from the corners of your mouth as you take and take and take from him, slurred praises floating from your needy throat.

“That ain’t fuckin’ true,” he growls like a caged animal, hips squirming into the chair, and you stop pleasing yourself – wrist frozen as the pressure on your clit becomes lighter, eyes narrow.

“Did I let you fucking speak?” Question rhetorical, you slip your scanty panties off and wad them up before prying his mouth open and shoving them, crotch-side first, inside to mute any more rebukes. The taste of your sex coats his tongue and his moans are muffled, eyes roll back for a fleeting moment – as if he forgot what he was even saying to begin with. His wrists slightly turning colour from the resistance against the rope. Hog heaven, you can hear the southern phrase drawl from his lips without the words.

“And what? You think you can make me feel better than I can? You really think that?” Joel finally smartens up when he realises you’re naked from the waist down and can see the slick against the seams of your thighs while your legs are apart – how turned on you are by keeping him on a line, and god the air is thick. His eyelids droop to the sound of your voice, the scent and taste of you overcoming him as a piteous nod is given to you. Poor baby.

It should irk you, the fact that he believes he knows your body better than you do, but it rakes the coals instead. It’s in that he’s so eager to show you how he can get you there – makes you curious, your pussy tingles in anticipation, pulse rises.

“If I let you go, are you going to be compliant? Because if you think you’re in control, you’re wrong and I need to know you’ll be a good boy for me. Will you be a good boy for mommy if I tell you what to do?”

The strained pleas from the fabric and emphatic nods give you reason to follow through with your promise. And he looks like he means it, like you’ve worn him down to submit to you fully without restraint. You can tell he’s in pain from how hard he is. Like he’s being edged without even touching him. His hands must be numb, his body could tremble at the slightest touch.

It’s enough for you to waltz behind him. You loosen the rope, ghosting your hands over the other typically warm set and despite them being tingly – he can still feel you. His breath hitches, the slopes of his shoulders are so gorgeous from behind. The muscles of his back taut as they flex, their silent entreat for relief. “It’s okay,” you whisper, now that you can’t see him, you feel more inclined to be forgiving.

The arousal is a constant build between the two of you. When you let his wrists loose, he doesn’t move. Just rolls his knuckles into fists, bringing blood and oxygen back to the extremities. He’s good on his word, and makes that known when you untie his ankles. He’s giving it up to you – totally conceding, and moreover adores this side of you. He knows he’s the only one you could ever be this assertive with because the relationship you have creates room for it. Both of you feel safe. His teeth tighten around your panties when you come back around to him, and you cup your small hand, comparatively, to the side of Joel’s neck.

“You good little thing. Got mama so proud,” pushing his curls back, you pull the spit-soaked garment from between his teeth and he’s beaming, nudging his cheek against your touch hungrily. “Go lie on the bed, honey.”

His joints creak from age when he does, having sat there for what felt like an eternity but he does exactly as you say: nothing more, nothing less. Hums softly to himself at the feeling of being able to lie flat on his back because it feels so good, and in the brief moment it’s there without a role – your adoration for him, the gentle quirks that make him so delectable. He deserves to sit back like this, to let his brain just take rather than supply.

However impatient he may be in the process of submission.

“You are doing so well, Joel. I know you have a pristine mouth too, don’t you? Are you gonna show me your tongue?” Getting onto the bed, you walk on your knees as this newly obedient Joel sticks out his tongue flat for you to float over. Your throat dries at that, how perfect he can be for you like this. A smirk comes over your features, “Much better with your tongue out than running it all the time,” and you swear you see Joel’s teeth creep up in a similar smile, but you’re busy straddling his waist with your ass facing his chest to notice.

His strong nose bumps against your clit when you bracket his head. Sipping the air abrasively, your body seizes at the sensation. Clearly more sensitive than your confident words let on, but that’s just the thing – you are confident and extremely horny and you can admit it. So you give in, purring deliciously when you lower over his mouth until you’re sitting completely on his face.

“Love using this mouth for my cunt,” fingers tangle through the strands of his hair and you use it to roll your hips frantically, yet methodically, against the heat of his wet mouth. His tongue hits your folds succinctly, on purpose, and even though you haven’t allowed him to touch you, his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s rolling your hips for you.

“Fuck, you’re swimming in it now,” you groan, neck thrown back before leaning your neck over to the side to watch his eyes flutter shut – the slight shake of his achy jaw, the sweat at the top of his hairline. He’s putting in the work to take it, even when he feels like giving up.

The squelching of your juices has you in your own trance, and though you would wait for his cock to give into the prickling at the pit of your belly, you decide to go give in to what you want in the moment – to orgasm right here, right now. All over Joel’s face.

Pulling the top of your pubic bone, your clit exposes to the plush of lips beneath you. “Suck.” The instruction is simple compared to the stir of fireworks that he sets off inside you. Because he does what you say, and how you say it, instantly. Joel’s eyes roll back alongside his muffled, but satisfied moans that vibrate against the bundle of nerves he’s taking his time to satisfy. Wet suction sounds fill the room when the air breaks off, his tongue swirling right underneath the hood of you and you break out in a sweat from how impossibly good he is at this.

“Y-you’re so good for mommy,” you sound wrecked, Joel looks up at you when he catches just how gone you are. Loving to see you take what you want from him, using his mouth to pleasure yourself. You rock deeply, your hands knead over your lace-covered tits and when you look down at him again, he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Eating you like he worships you, and you’re certain he does.

But using him meant not warning him when you were close.

So it comes as no surprise, the influx of low, masculine, ached groans from beneath you when your body responds to its pleasure. Your fingernails dig into your fists as you shudder and moan above him, the lightning rising from your core to your limbs in a matter of seconds – and in waves. You lean forward, catching yourself at the headboard and let out a slight chuckle at the comedown. The two of you surfacing in between this power dynamic. “Shit.”

That’s short lived under your ruling, however, and you slide off of him – getting your bearings. Joel stays still, his mouth vivid pink to match his cheeks, beard and lips sheened with your slick. The look in his eye shows his constraint, his need for something and when you pluck your gaze down his body. His beautiful cock straining against his abdomen, a pool of precum greets you.

“This?” You raise both eyebrows, pointing between his legs, “This needs touchin’?”

“Please,” fuck, he sounds ruined – consumed with lust and need for anything you can give him. He’s really begging now, not the bullshit he tried to deliver you in the beginning.

“Okay, baby,” you coo, “You’re so good for me, gonna make you feel so good.” When you finally, finally acknowledge his cock, his abdomen jolts though you barely touch his sides. You laugh through your nose briefly, “That bad, darlin’?” His head sways ‘yes’ against the pillow before saying it, and you waste no more time in your pursuit to obliterate him now.

So you straddle him. Right at his waist, angling above where his twitching cock lies. You can feel the heat radiate off the both of you. Your core pulsing from your orgasm, wet from slick and spit. You have some wits about you now that you came, and it aids you in authorising the next step – the step that has every nerve at the edge of its seat for Joel.

Joel’s body. The taut skin, the hair down his arms and across the landscape of his chest down his middle. Your own body fills with anticipation when you anchor your hips further down until your folds are greeted by the underside of his length and it’s unhurried when you both shudder in response.

“Sh-shit, shit, darlin’–mama,” he inhales sharply, those words transitioning to whimpers when you glide your hips over his cock back and forth with intention – applying more pressure with each pass.

“Yeah, you like that?”

Joel’s tongue skates over his bottom lip as he nods frantically, and you still yourself.

“Nuh uh. Words, tell me. Need to hear you say it, Joel.”

“F-feels so good, honey. Feels like my kinda paradise.”

Or at least that’s what you are pretty sure you hear. It’s rushed from his feverish breaths, but he’s doing his best. Wants to make an impression that he is committed to giving in. It’s when his eyes slip shut do you lean your body over him, tilting his chin, you wrap one hand around his throat though it doesn’t quite reach around to completion.

“You beautiful man. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

Joel blinks them open to see your hooded eyes above him, unable to hide just how in awe he is.

“Y’look gorgeous, mama,” and shit– you feel your cunt clench around the absence of him at that. At how candid and altruistic his words are in the moment.

“You’re one to talk,” you run the tops of your fingers against his beard, hips languid. “Stay right here. My good boy. M’gonna take this big fucking cock. That’s right, isn’t it? Make you know for certain who it belongs to.”

And he loves hearing you talk about him like this. Looks so serene as you sit upright, peeling the rest of your layers off until you’re both naked and he looks like he desperately wants to touch you, but you give him a stern look – not yet. Not until I take you myself.

Reaching behind, you press the head of his cock at your entrance and hiss at the instant stretch. Not working yourself up with his fingers shows when you envelop him like this, and you can feel him digging his heels into the bed from just how you feel around the head of him.

“M-Mommy!”

The sound of him whining is symphonic to your ears.

“Shhhh, you can take it.” The role reversal makes you shiver, your wet sex moving down a little more before you pull up, popping off of him completely and his hips stammer trying to follow you, but he soon realises the edge you’re bringing him to.

He’s greeted with your sinister smile.

“What, honey?” You lean over him, forcing his chin up, you deliver a slap to his cheek before sliding down his cock again – working him up and down, then off again.

His bottom lip trembles and puffs. He’s losing his cool, hands ghosting your hips because he knows better than to touch you like this. Not when he’s so close to getting what he wants. The heat, the fucking heat from them – you shake.

“P-p, mama, mmngh,” his whimpers put you in a daze. How he feels so good he can’t even form a proper sentence. Your free hand claws at his chest while the other at your front edges him – rocking against the underside of him again. Minutes feel like hours when you rile him up like this, and you know you look a mess too. Fucked out, nipples peaked and you catch his gaze on them – his hunger for you extends through the room leaving heat on your skin as it radiates, the energy bouncing off from this tantric experience. The eye contact is insane: Joel’s pupils dilated, eager against the constant spasm of his cock against your messy folds.

All humidity, sweat, and sex make their presence irrevocably known.

You’re slipping.

But you muster one last discipline, leaning down so your tits graze against his chest. You brush your nose against his, insisting his precum spreads against your entrance. He grunts, teeth together, hips grinding as best as he can without breeding you into your submission. And fuck, you’d almost allow it.

Almost.

“Should’ve worn your fucking glasses.” You whisper against his lips, your clit brushing against the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen, and it’s exactly then does he spill over his breaking point.

“I’ll wear them, I’ll wear them!” And, fuck, Joel sounds pained – he sounds sorry, and he sounds desperate. “Please! Please just let me come, mama. I wanna paint ya up so good, honey. P-please, mama! I’ll get fuckin’ lasik – please, just lemme in that perfect pussy!”

That’s the green light.

Placing him back inside, your hips grind on him shallowly. Both hands tighten around his throat, albeit a bit looser than the one fist he’d have around your neck – but it seems to do the trick and you buzz in satisfaction before a choked moan fills your lungs: the sound he’s been craving. Your body giving in, doing what it does. It’s nature, after all, giving into these feelings. “Fucking take this cunt. Fill mommy up, yeah? You wanna make me a real mama, baby? C’mon, let go for me. You can let go, you can move.”

It’s a lightswitch. It’s flipping a breaker, giving Joel such permission.

You yelp when he tosses you off of him. Onto your back, he’s on his knees within a blink – gripping your thighs, he pries you apart before his cock spears inside you with little remorse, and “Oh-my god – your cock!” you scream. It’s exactly what you need now. You nod through knitted brows, praises fill the space between you. You take his chin between your thumb and pointer, one arm around his shoulders you pry his lips apart to transfer spit right inside his mouth. Your tongue glides over his and he drinks straight from the source. You can feel his Adam's apple wobble as it swallows what you’re giving him underneath the pad of your thumb. “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you mutter sloppily from the rutting of his deviant hips.

Gravity’s against you when you spit in his mouth again, getting some of it on your chin and nose, but fuck, you don’t care. You want it filthy like this with your head half off the bed, his fingers plucking your nipples as it ripples pleasure down your center. “I’m doin’ okay, mama? This whatcha need?” This sly fucker. “S-s’perfect!” The requirement of reassurance fastens you in the leadership role you assumed in the beginning, and you’re so fucking thrilled Joel’s your partner. How he can deliver you mindblowing thrusts, yet still look at you through his lashes like he’s the softest motherfucker on the planet. A gleam of pride in his eyes and at the corner of his lips when he hears your juices be tapped in a fast tempo by his heavy balls. Like giving you pleasure is the pearl he longs to hold for dear life itself in his capable hands.

Of course, he circles your clit for good measure. Of course he would. Little shit. It works like a charm.

He knows your body, said it himself. How it operates, how to take you there. And you’re panting, hips lift to be greeted by his thrusts all the way to the base of your stomach – achieving the spongy spot only Joel can reach.

You feel it happen like a coiling, a buildup of thin air and then all at once: immense pleasure. It snaps, your body convulsing around his cock, core fluttering as your moans get higher, and you think he’d slow down, but it makes him work harder. You try to keep your eyes on him, but it’s just no use, he’s too good at his job. “F-fuckin’, mmngh,” you can’t get out much else, but you’re soaking his cock – what else could possibly be said? Your tits bounce to his thrusts and you can tell this is it for him. He’s been so proficient at keeping it together all this time. Your eyes pop open then, lips wet, you tug for him to come closer. You don’t fucking care that his sweat sticks to your shoulder when he buries his forehead against your neck.

Joel keeps his whimpers close to your ear. His moans of your name, his passion for this feeling – all of it, right against you. Like a secret, like a prayer and you’re the divine goddess in every moment of reverence.

“Can’t last,” he drawls, a coherent sentence flows through him for a moment and you nod, mouth brushing against the red of his neck. “Give it to me, Joel.” Lips dance at his pulsepoint as the contact bounces from his thrusts, and you can hear his heart thud from outside his body. It floods you, the sawing of his cock inside, the swelling sensation against your walls. Tugging his hair, you pull him back just enough to see his faded eyes, “Give me every drop, baby boy. Come for mommy.”

His lips attempt to make contact with yours, but really all he can do is breathe heavily into your mouth and it’s dizzying, being each other’s oxygen. “S-s… so p-perf–,” he tries, he really tries in making the words connect, but even his core feels shaky from his forearms on either side of your head. You snake your hands around his throat once more, and that’s fucking it.

Joel’s sounds are a mix of the low grunts you know, tailending with particular whimpers that leave you moaning back to him like a call to each other. Holy fuck, you’ve never heard him make that sound before. And he’s good on his promise – coating your inside sticky with his substance, your own vibrational tone is low in your throat as you hum in approval. Until he rides it out. Until his pleasure turns sensitive and his hips come to an end.

“Oh, baby,” you praise, delicate hands leaving his throat, you pet his back – warm and masculine and rippled with muscles that he attained from his work. He’s out of breath, and you both laugh at it, pressing tender kisses to his nose and lips.

“Might fuckin’ die at this rate.”

“Well, at least we had a good run.”

It feels empty when Joel pulls out of you, his lanky body shakes the bed when he gracefully thwacks onto the mattress beside you.

“Mmmng.”

A flawless response. Mmmng, indeed.

You stretch your arms overhead, facilitating a yawn in the process.

And you don’t ignore the way it feels to have his cum spill out of you. Hot and sticky and where it’s meant to be.

“Stay there,” you whisper, rolling onto your side, “You did so good. I’m so proud of you, baby.” You even speak differently now – tender and light, peppering kisses all over his tired face in satisfaction. Slipping up to your feet, you go to the adjoined bathroom and run the bath. Putting a couple of drops of your favourite essential oil to make the sensual experience last in the afterglow. You peek your head out from the bathroom door when it’s ready and give him a gentle look of compassion. “It’s ready.”

Joel grunts when he propels all of his upper body strength to sit up in one go. You can’t get enough of him. The way he looks – sleepy and fucked, arms thick and shoulders broad. You have both earned this bath, even if it’s crowded. He sinks in, and you get in front of him, and honestly you both close your eyes for a long while. Exhausted, used. He wraps his arms around the front of your shoulders, and it’s regulatory to your nervous system.

“I really am sorry,” he finally gruffs, wide palms cater to your shoulders as you melt and sink into the bathwater with him. “This week’s been… it don’t matter. You tell me ‘bout my eyes all the time, and I never listen. I will, I promise. I didn’t mean t’make your life harder.”

You frown at the last bit, turning in the water so your chest is against his. Drops spill out the tub when you do.

“You never make my life harder, Joel.”

“Seems like it,” and you can tell he’s not saying it to play the victim. He’s vulnerable and feels safe enough to share this shame with you. “Seems like I end up fuckin’ somethin’ up.”

No. You won’t be having any of that.

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you shake your head in tandem with your words. “Not even close, do you understand?” Sternly, you keep his eyes poured into yours. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it. You make everyday brighter. Even when you’re a royal pain in my ass.”

You both join in with laughter before you rest your warmed cheek to the hairs on his chest. “I swear.”

Joel’s throat vibrates to the tune of your last words, and fingers comb through your hair, leaving you both to flutter your eyes shut in the all-too-small bathtub.

“Okay, I believe you. But only ‘cuz I’m a pain in your ass.”

You take in his warmth, so much as sniffing at his words, and it feels good to be connected like this after those moments of taking matters into your own hands. It feels good for both of you to be unarmed to each other without consequence.

When it's time for you to get out, you dry off before holding out a towel to wrap around him and you lean up, pressing your lips to his – both naked and comfortable. Basking in the aftermath – the scene you two created in the bedroom you transition into. Your eyes scan over the bed: the unkept version of sheets, pillows haphazardly thrown together and you individually slip your clothes on. It feels nice to have a soft fabric cloak over your skin, his t-shirt fitting easily from the worn material. Joel takes your hand in one of his, the dining chair in the other. You look back at the room before flipping the light off. At least for a moment, you’re both pretty tired and will work around the mess soon.

Then there's the kitchen. Where it started. But you don’t feel the same aggravation creep up as it did before. Instead, Joel wraps his arms protectively around you when you rise to your tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard. It feels like slipping into a warm pool, and you never want to leave. He is more enchanting than the tub could ever be.

“Hot liquid for my man?”

“Y’could just say tea, I ain’t gonna gag, you know?”

You snicker, turning the kettle on and closing your eyes as his chin tucks at the crease of your neck, not so sure he means it. Coffee? Yes. A blend of chamomile and lavender? You weren’t so sure. But he doesn't turn his nose up when you press the teabag to him, so you sneak a kiss and you plop one bag in each cup.

“I dunno, you might gag,” a knowing smirk grows at the side of your cheek that Joel’s at and you mercifully knock temples, as if your brain waves could send each other the memories you have from tonight. Everything primal and raw, all for the both of you.

“No more gaggin’ tonight,” there’s a laugh in Joel’s words and you scratch his beard idly as you pour your hot drinks when it’s time. “That’s alright, baby boy. Mama can handle a little bit of gagging if it means you’re taking.”

“You better watch it,” smile behind his voice, his nose nudges the edge of your jaw and a shudder draws out a small purr from deep in your chest – especially because you know there’s not an ounce of a menacing tone behind the threat.

“I’m not doing anything,” the grin transfers to your face and you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his shoulders because you can and he pulls you up until your feet leave the ground. It’s a stretch that feels good, your heart’s content.

“Yeah, you’re just so good. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be bad unlike us common folk.”

And that makes your cheeks rush with blood because you know it’s only a matter of time before the tables turn. Before you’re caught doing something Joel has told you thousands of times to do or don’t, and he has you in some precarious position to drive you back to the version of your best self.

Still, it’s funny, and you nose against the column of his neck – all sweat still mixed with the bathwater and something so innately, masculinely, Joel Miller. “Not too good, just clever. I get away with a lot more than you think, old man.”

“Easy.” His tone shifts all too easily into a warning, his hips pinning you to the edge of the countertop. Your eyes widen before you press your index finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Relax,” you pet his shoulders, before leaning up to kiss his eyelids, “I like that you’re an old, senile man I can swindle.”

“Goddamn, you’re at record time in attempting to prove just how misbehaved y’really are.”

Finishing the tea, you hand his mug off with a nonchalant shrug.

“I learn from the best, I guess.”

You wait a beat.

“So… lasik, huh?”

Joel practically chokes on his beverage. “Uhhh…,”

“Great! I’ll book the appointment tomorrow!”

You won’t (probably), but the look on his face is priceless.

“Yeah, yeah.” That makes Joel smile eventually, his rough hand cupping the side of your face before planting a dichotomously tender kiss to your forehead, and you are steadfast to reciprocate the affection.

The only thing that matters, anyway.

No matter all the hardships, the restless nights. It’s this. It’s delivering Joel to his knees as he worships you, then securing him with a warm cup of liquids in the form of tea, bath, the undulating nature of your arms in their energetic vibrations when they find his frame.

You would take care of him. You would catch him.

Like how rivers bend and rush to oceans:

Everything leads back to him.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @pedritoferg - comment to be added, and please let me know if i missed you!

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lolokouhm · 1 year

Text

pt.2 is out!

"Could you rail me?"

That's not something Megumi expects to hear at 10 p.m. Especially coming from you.

You're drenched - that's the first thing he notices. It's been raining the whole day, pouring even, making early autumn weather even gloomier than it usually is. You don't have an umbrella and the light jacket you put on yourself earlier in the morning looks completely out of place - it doesn't even have a hood to hide under. Or maybe it's not the jacket that feels off? Maybe that's just you.

You, the one who is always prepared. You, the one who is always put together. You, the one who, as far as he's concerned, should be in the cinema on a date with your boyfriend right now. A dickhead boyfriend, Megumi makes a mental note. He couldn't bring himself to like the guy, but as long as that idiot treated you right, he wasn't really in a place to say anything. But apparently, something has changed.

"Could you rail me?"

Yeah, something has definitely changed.

Megumi doesn't really say anything as you get inside - your every movement is showing how furious you are, and it’s not like Fushiguro's not used to people with bad temper, it's just you're not one of them. He's never seen you like this before and, combining the situation with that question you’ve asked him twice, he's taken by surprise. That gets him thinking. Something must have happened, and judging by your face...

Then he notices. The smudged mascara, the barely visible traces on you cheeks, and your red, puffy, eyes.

You cried.

Megumi has seen you in various mental states, but never furious - and most importantly, never crying, so he couldn't possibly have any idea how seeing you like that would make him feel. He knows now.

He'll kill him.

"Come on, you need to take a hot shower, or you'll get sick", he finally says, his voice sounding surprisingly normal and calm. He's relieved - all these years of hiding his emotions and not letting them surface have at least some perks. Looking at your state, you need something - someone - to calm you down, and Megumi won’t let himself lose control just over his imagination and groundless jealousy. You need to tell him what happened first.

So when you’re finally out of the shower, your hair still damp, drowning in his cotton, black T-shirt, Megumi is waiting in the kitchen - and he needs you to speak.

„He cheated on me.” It falls from your lips, light as a feather, and these words do something to him. Something that could have very bad consequences. „We broke up. But it doesn’t even hurt. I… I am so fucking stupid.” You’re not crying anymore - there’s a fire in your eyes that Megumi has never seen before.

„He’s the one that’s stupid.” That is probably the nicest adjective out of many others he has on his mind right now. He observes you carefully as you adjust yourself on a high hocker next to him.

„No, I am. I…” You sigh, hiding your face in your hands. „I didn’t cry because he broke my heart. That’s the problem. He didn’t.” That’s a relief, but Megumi’s still not convinced. His brows furrow, as he’s trying to understand what exactly has happened. „I was crying because I don’t fucking understand myself.” Your gaze suddenly jumps on him and the intensity of it makes him gulp. „That’s why I want you to rail me.” Before he can form a coherent answer to that, you speak up again. „I think I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. And that makes me a cheater, because I went into a relationship knowing that. Or at least suspecting that.”

So many things Megumi didn’t expect to hear tonight.

He just stares at you, not sure, whether his heart is racing or it’s completely stopped beating. You’re blushing, but at the same time doesn’t look embarrassed. Despite that cute pink tone on your cheeks, you seem determined, and he’s not sure what he should do about it.

„Or you can say you won’t”, you suddenly speak up again. The eye contact is so intensive, to the point it physically hurts. „You can say that and I’ll see if it breaks my heart. It’ll be easie-”

„I won’t rail you.” It jumps out of him faster than he’s able to process it, and his heart drops as your face turns pale.

„Okay. It hurts. So this is a crush after all.” You stand up suddenly and rush somewhere - his apartament isn’t big, but the embarrassment hits you like a truck and you just need to hide. Or die.

„How the fuck do you expect me to rail you?” Nervousness in Megumi’s voice makes you turn around. He’s got up from his seat as well, his worried expression long forgotten - now he just looks angry. „I’ve had sex like three times before. Fuck”, he sighs, pinching his nose bridge. As if that ever helped somebody to focus. He doesn’t have any other options though. „Jesus, (Y/N). You can’t just say these things like that. Why can’t you just like… say that you have a crush on me? At least I’d know how to answer”, Megumi murmurs and now you’re confused.

He cannot comprehend the fact that you haven’t noticed. Everyone noticed. Itadori, Nobara, Gojo - everyone. Even he himself noticed. The gradual changes in your friendship, the staring, the smiles that cost him way more than anyone else, and yet he would give you them for free. The jealousy that came few months ago - with you being asked out, taken on dates, kissed. The irritation. And eventually, the nights where he would be so hard and frustrated, and the only cure seemed to be a memory of you. Of your skin. Of your touch. He was sure when your name left his lips that one particular night - he let his imagination run freely, and it sprinted to the point where he imagined it was your hand going up and down on his dick. He panicked a bit, that night. Your friendship was more valuable than anything else. He couldn’t risk it.

So he endured.

And now this?

That’s not fair. You play dirty. You asked that fucking question three times and now he’s sexually frustrated and stressed beyond what’s humanly possible. He tried so hard, gritted his teeth, tossed and turned - and you just destroyed everything.

So when Megumi comes up to you to catch your face in his hands, you can feel his anger. And a million other things that convince you, that yes, Megumi Fushiguro could rail you without any doubt. He kisses you - and the kiss tastes like longing, like desperation, like something more, than just „liking”. Like…

„He was first”, he murmurs, as he pulls away, just millimetres, but enough to be able to say what he needs to say. His long, slender fingers rest on both sides of your face, the right thumb delicately brushing you cheek. A feeling completely different from that sudden kiss.

„What?” You feel a bit hazy and so does he.

„And you were always so happy… I just couldn’t…”, he mutters, running with his gaze when the embarrassment hits him. He curses himself for wearing that black sweater tonight, it’s so hot he cannot stand it - especially when your hands land on his covered chest.

„I was happy because I was with you, you dumbass!” You moan, and even though it’s not sexual at all, Megumi can’t help but groan. You are intoxicating. „I thought you didn’t like me… So I tried to…” You’re interrupted as he pulls you for another kiss, even more needy than the first one. And you suddenly forget what you wanted to say.

Megumi still remembers, but he needs you. If that’s a dream, then he just hopes he’s not going to wake up. Luckily for him, the way his body reacts is more biological than ever and that gives him some hope.

„You tried to…?”

„I tried to fall in love with someone else.”

„You’re stupid then.” His lips travel down your neck as he’s leaving slow, sensual kisses all over it. You grip tightens on his forearm, nails diving between the sweater’s weaves just to find his skin underneath. You had no idea Megumi could kiss like that, and when his fingers slide down your collarbone, you find out that you had no idea that he could touch you like that either. „If you talked to me, we’d save a lot of time.”

„You could have said something too”, you whisper, and the combination of stress, anxiety and bliss makes your legs go weak. Luckily, Megumi’s here, and his arm keeps you in place. „You never say anything. And I…” A little whine interrupted you as his teeth grazed over your paper thin skin. „I don’t know how you feel.”

„You really can’t see it?”

„I need you to say it. I can say it. I’m in love with you, Megumi”. Is it really your voice, or are the angels singing? He could swear he got the chills. „Please.”

Years of hiding. Years of not saying anything. Years of keeping his feelings hidden. All that, just for him to make a confession.

„I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” It’s shaky, it’s soft and it’s quiet, falling into your skin and melting into your soul - something you needed so desperately. And that’s enough.

You need to see him, so you cup his face into your hands, and the picture leaves you in awe - his soft cheeks are flushed, blue eyes shining with desire. It’s so unlike him, and the fact that you’ve actually managed to pull these words out of him shows how desperate he is.

„You can let go” you whisper, before pulling him for another kiss. „Don’t overthink it. Just… let go.”

Who knows - he might rail you after all.

masterlist ❤️

#megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro smut #fushiguro #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu megumi #megumi #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi imagine #megumi headcanons #megumi drabble #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader

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slutforleeminho · 6 months

Note

Hiiii just wanted to know if you could make a oneshot of you being the 9th member and having cramps during practice and Bangchan and Lee Know comfort you (sorry I'm a sucker for them they are my bias😩) Thank you so much I love your writing. I just followed you and will be waiting. Though if you don't want to write it, It's completely fine. Oh and sorry for such a long note! 😅 Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language.🫶

this is super short but i hope you like it🫶🏻

“shit!” you dropped to the floor, tripping for the third time tonight. your knees and elbows are bruised from attempting to catch yourself each time. but this time your reflexes didn’t kick in and full on belly flopped against the hard ground. you couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore, curling into the fetal position and sobbing.

all eight boys rushed to circle around you, eyes wide and full of concern. you’ve only cried like this in front of them a handful of times but that was mainly when you were on tour and extremely overwhelmed. never during dance practice.

“i’m okay, i promise.” once the pain subsided a bit you sat up and explained to them that it was just really bad cramps and that the last fall hit you right in the gut.

jisung brought you a bottle of water and some medicine and kissed you on the top of your head before leaving. the rest of the members either gave you a hug (not too tight though) or squeezed your shoulder as to show you that they cared, and then they all left.

well, except for minho and chan.

you looked at them confused as the members filtered out of the room. “i’m okay, you can go back to the dorms. i just need a minute for the medicine to kick in.” you smiled at them.

“i’ll wait with you, can’t have you getting kidnapped walking back in the dark all by yourself.” bangchan said while sitting on the ground behind you, outstretching his legs on either sides of yours. you were about to question him about it until he placed his hands on your shoulders and started kneading your sore muscles. your head fell forward as you felt immediate relief, sighing in contentment.

“yeah, we can’t just leave you here in pain.” minho said, sitting directly in front of you.

“i’m not a baby, min, i can take care of myself.” the exhaustion started to kick in as chan was easing all the tension from your upper back. you started to lean back against him without realizing it and soon you were completely surrounded by his chest and arms, his warmth radiating off of him making you all the more comfortable.

“you don’t seem to be complaining now” chan snickered. you snapped your eyes open and tried to break free from his hold, in which you failed from being to weak, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. “oh, stop being stubborn and rest for a minute.”

you gave in and relaxed into him again, this time sliding down until only your head was in his lap, using his thigh as a pillow. you closed your eyes as a yawn escaped from you, feeling a hand wrapped around your ankle you opened them to see minho maneuvering up onto his knees and taking both your ankles into his hands. “what are you doing, minho?”

“i heard this helps with cramps.” he says as he confidently folds you legs forward and against your abdomen, not too hard but just enough to cause a little bit of tightness in your lower stomach. it hurts. and you’re about to tell him so until he pulls them back towards him, the tightness releases and it felt so relieving. you probably looked ridiculous, the way he was stretching your legs like you were in fact a baby.

“did it help?” his eyes wide like a curious cat.

“yeah, it actually did.” you rolled your eyes and he laughed cause of your annoyance. he continued moving your legs back and forth, putting pressure on your stomach and then pulling back once more. “i appreciate you both staying with me,” you began. “it means the world to me to know i have people who sincerely care about me and care for me. i’ve never had that with anyone, and it’s actually really nice.”

minho sat your legs back on the ground. “we’ll never leave you, y/n, okay? you’re stuck with us until the day we all die, and even then i’m sure i’ll find you in the afterlife to aggravate you some more.” he gave you a wide smile, giving you a full view of his bunny teeth.

“yeah, if we don’t make your life equally miserable and fun, who will?” chan poked your cheek. you giggled and just smiled the widest you have in a long time.

“i wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

“awww you do love us!” minho squealed.

“oh, shut up!” you kicked him in the shoulder blade, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to push him on his back. he still acted as though he’d been shot nonetheless. “you’re so dramatic.”

as all your laughing died down another yawn came from you, which made chris yawn too. “has the medicine kicked in yet?” minho asked sitting back up.

you tested it by pushing yourself up and standing to your feet. “yeah i feel pretty good actually.”

“good.” was all you heard from behind you before chan was lifting you up bridal style.

“what are you doing?!?!” you screamed, wrapping your hand around his neck, scared he might drop you. “chris, i can walk, i’m not helpless.”

“oh, shut up and let’s go home.” minho whined.

you couldn’t argue with that.

i wasn’t sure if you wanted smut or not, so if you want an alternate ending let me know:)

taglist: @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs @katsukiswife @seung-mine @sungprotector @soephiphanymain @z4ir3 @minnieslover @kjr-army @extrhotjne

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prythianpages · 10 months

Text

Stuck On You | Part Three

cassian x reader | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

[series masterlist]

A/N: I debated on splitting this into two parts since it came out longer than intended but I wanted to leave the bulk of the angst in this part. Some more scenes and quotes from Lilo & Stitch since I couldn't help myself. just one more part! I have a rough outline of it so I probably won't be able to finish it tonight but definitely by some time this coming week.

Warnings: angst, some fluff if you squint, mentions of violence/abuse

“Cassian said he would take me out for ice cream if you said yes!” Seraphine beamed, removing her boots at the foyer of your small, humble home. “I’ve never had ice cream before. Have you?”

“Sera,” you said with a sigh, concern laced into your tone over how attached she was to him. His month-long absence had given you a glimpse of the consequence of the effect he had on not just you but Seraphine as well and you didn’t want her to get hurt. She wouldn’t understand.

“I think it’s best if we don’t see Cas anymore.”

She turned to you with a pout. “He’s our friend! You have to say yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Seraphine’s lip quivered, her tired eyes brimming with tears.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t bring yourself to.

Instead, you threw your aching body onto the small loveseat in the living room. This week had taken both an emotional and physical toll on you, as you tirelessly kept Seraphine up to date with her studies, managed the tavern’s monthly expenses and wrestled with your inner turmoil concerning Cassian. The constant restlessness in Seraphine only added to the mountain of exhaustion, her unbridled excitement buzzing incessantly over everything.

You knew you should draw a bath for the both of you and then head to bed, considering your fatigue.

However, you were well aware of your little sister’s stubborn nature as it was one you also exhibited. It must run in the family. Once she was fixated on something, there was no distracting her and judging by the intensity of her little sister’s sobs, you braced yourself for a long and challenging night.

“You’re so mean!” She cried. “I hate you!”

“Please don’t be a pain tonight,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You should just sell me and buy a rabbit instead!” Sara shouted at you with her finger pointed at you, referring to your empty threat of replacing her with a rabbit every time she misbehaved. You hadn’t brought it up in months, years even, and were surprised she remembered.

“At least a rabbit would behave better than you,” you muttered.

“Go ahead!” Seraphine exclaimed, making you wince at her sharp tone. You hoped your neighbors could not hear her, fearing what they’d do if they did. You heard her angry stomps as she made her way to her room. “Then you’ll be happy! It will be smarter than me too.”

“And quieter!”

“You’ll like it because it’s stinky like you!”

“Go to your room!”

“I’m already in my room!” Seraphine screamed as she opened her door just to slam it shut again, irritating you further.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and brought it to your face to muffle your scream.

Guilt began to settle as your initial anger faded away. You knew you had overreacted. For many years, it had just been you and the small family your mother had created. Neither you or Seraphine had made any friends in Ironcrest yet, unless you counted the friendly old male who you purchased spices and groceries from every Sunday.

Your small family of four had unexpectedly and significantly reduced to half, leaving just you and Seraphine. Of course, she was excited when Cassian came along. You’d deny it if asked but a part of you was excited too.

He was sweet and kind but your worries crept in about what it meant to allow him into your tightly-knit world. What if things didn’t work out between you? What if the burdens you carried were too much for him to bear? You couldn’t allow him in further when your sister was already so attached to him, unable to bear the thought of having her witness another loved one disappear from her life.

You had to end this, whatever it was that you and Cassian had and you had to end it soon. Before any further damage could be provoked.

Throughout your life, stability had been a luxury, and the haunting fear of attachment loomed over you. The constant uprooting had instilled a deep seated fear of getting close to people. Every bond you had forged was inevitably followed by a painful goodbye. The walls safeguarding your heart, constructed since childhood, grew higher and stronger with every move. You had hoped that your mother’s marriage would bring a lasting change, a nice and needed break from moving, and for a while, it had.

However, the universe had a cruel way of reminding you that stability was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You would’ve never expected your one night stand with Cassian would lead to something more–to this.

Cassian, with his unwavering determination, posed a threat to the walls you had carefully built around your heart. Love. It seemed like a beautiful risk but the fear of losing what was gained, overshadowed its allure for you. Your heart had never felt so heavy.

You took a deep breath before knocking on your sister’s door. The lack of response didn’t surprise you. She must still be upset. The soft glow of faelight seeping from beneath her door confirmed she was awake. Balancing the two mugs of hot cocoa in one arm, you opened the door and slipped inside.

Your stomach churned at the sight of your little sister, clutching the pegasus doll that Cassian had gifted her. Tears streaked her face as she gazed down solemnly.

“I brought you, your favorite. Hot cocoa,” you offered, hoping to bring a glimmer of cheer to her troubled expression.

“We’re a broken family, aren’t we?”

You frowned, setting the tray down on the nightstand, hesitating before answering. “Maybe but only a little…”

You settled yourself onto Seraphine’s bed, gently cradling her into your lap. “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”

“I like you better as a sister than a mother…” Seraphine sniffled.

“Yeah?” You tenderly brushed her long, dark hair away from her face in contemplation.

A pang tugged at your heart–the weight of becoming a mother figure pressed on your shoulders. As a sister, you also played a nurturing and protective role in Seraphine’s upbringing, offering support when it was needed. You were the one Seraphine would run to for comfort after your mother's scolding or being stern with her, but now you were the one that had to be stern. It was a struggle finding the delicate balance between fulfilling the motherly duties Seraphine needed and preserving the sibling bond that meant the world to you.

“And you like me better as a sister than a rabbit, right?”

“Oh, my sweet Sera.” You replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead, your arms wrapping around her smaller form with a gentle squeeze. “Of course I do! I would not make my special hot cocoa for just anyone. Only you.”

You handed one of the mugs to her, smiling fondly as she inhaled the rich aroma of the hot cocoa.

“Cassian says ice cream is like frozen milk,” she mused softly. “I wonder what hot cocoa would taste like frozen but then it would no longer be hot cocoa, right? We would have to come up with a new name for it but I don’t think I like the sound of frozen cocoa…”

Her innocent dilemma made you laugh, finding it utterly endearing. You wanted her worries to always be like this. Small and trivial.

“Perhaps we should leave the cocoa out to freeze and find out for ourselves? We can decide on a name then.”

The night air was chilling, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. You hugged your coat closer to you, sparing at glance at Seraphine to make sure she still had hers on and the scarf you had bought her was snug to keep her neck warm. You couldn’t help but giggle when you caught Cassian, who had been persistent on walking you home, was constantly blowing his hair out of his face.

“Did you lose all your hair ties?” You quipped, digging into the pocket of your pants and offering a hair tie to him to alleviate his struggle. He reluctantly took the elastic from you and tied his hair up into his usual bun. You noticed he wore it down more recently. “You can keep it, too.”

“I just wanted to let it loose, try something different.” He replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

You let out a small hum, stuffing your hands back into your pockets to keep them hidden and fell into a thoughtful silence once more. There was a knot in your stomach as you three neared your house.

Seraphine, who once again had chosen to skip ahead of you two, paused. She turned around with a knowing gleam in her eye. Her lips curled up and she opened her mouth to speak and if you hadn’t been occupied in the tempest of your thoughts, you wouldn’t have missed Cassian bringing his finger to his lips to keep her from exposing him.

“Fancy hair,” she giggled, despite his plea.

“What was that?” You said, turning your head toward your sister.

Both Seraphine and Cassian exchanged a look before turning to you, responding in unison:

“Nothing!”

Your eyes narrowed at the two in suspicion but you decided not to question it.

When you three finally reached your home, Cassian was surprised at your invitation to come inside. You had never invited him inside, always bidding your farewells at your door. He walked in, overwhelmed by the sweet and delightful scent. It smelled just like you. His eyes darted around the living area curiously, taking in all the small touches you incorporated to make this place feel like a warm and inviting home.

You instructed Seraphine to change and pick a book for you to read to her before bed. She politely said her goodbye and goodnight to Cassian, her movements slow as she was reluctant to follow your instructions. She had no desire to go to bed, not when Cassian was inside your home for the first time and you found the glare she sent you amusing.

Cassian was staring at the wilted and dead flowers resting in a small vase you had placed on the kitchen table, recognizing them as the ones he had gifted you so long ago. You never threw them away.

“Cassian.”

He loved the way you said his name. But it was different this time. He pulled his attention away from the kitchen table to look back at you. You leaned against the back of the loveseat in hesitation, your eyes revealing the weight of the decision you were about to make.

His throat tightened. “Yes?”

“I think it’s best if you stop coming here.” Your voice was laced with a vulnerability you hated and before Cassian could reply, you were speaking again. “I have to take care of my sister. I can’t risk her getting attached, more so than she already is and–and neither can I. We’ve lost so much already…”

A tear escaped your eye. You brushed it away with a trembling hand and then Cassian was bridging the distance between you both, his hand gently cupping your cheek and coaxing your gaze to his.

“Y/n,” he gently whispered. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“How can you say that? What if something happens and–”

“Please don’t push me away.”

“They call you the Lord of Bloodshed. You’re the commander of the High Lord’s armies. You made a name for yourself. And me? I am no one. I’m not worthy of love. Of you. You’ll soon realize it and grow tired of me–”

“Stop.” Cassian interrupted, bringing his other hand up to cup your face. His touch was both comforting and agonizing. “You are worthy of love and so much more and I want to prove it to you. There could be a room full of others but just like that night at the bonfire, I want you. I choose you.”

A heavy sigh escaped you as you gently removed his hands from your face. “But I can’t choose you. I have to choose Seraphine. I always will and right now, I can’t afford to have you both.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the responsibilities that anchored you, pulling you away from the love that beckoned.

Cassian grasped your hands in his, refusing to let them slip away. He did not want to let go of you. He understood the depth of your worries and the distress etched onto your features was breaking his heart. Why couldn’t you see yourself the way he saw you?

“I won’t force you into something that scares you, y/n.” He reassured you with a soft tone, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “I only want what’s best for you and Seraphine.”

Your lips trembled as you managed a small, strained smile.

“But you have to know that I love you–both of you. And this love, it’s not going anywhere. It’s a constant. A promise that will never waver.”

Cassian hadn’t returned and although you had asked for it, you couldn’t deny the lingering void in your heart. Seraphine sensed something was amiss when your voice wavered as you read her a bedtime story shortly after he left. Surprisingly, she refrained from asking about Cassian until a week later, almost as if she dreaded hearing the news that he wouldn’t be coming back.

When she finally did, tears welled in her eyes and you comforted her, convincing yourself it was for the best. However, the attempt of reassurance was futile and did little to ease your own pain.

Seraphine sighed, absentmindedly nudging the green vegetable on her plate. Scrumps was propped on the table, facing her with its stitched eyes. “At least I still have you,” she murmured to the pegasus plush. “You’ll never leave me, right?”

You frowned at the sight, feeling helpless and unsure how to alleviate your sister’s sorrow. This was precisely what you had tried to shield her from and it stung to realize it was too late. The damage had already been done.

Your attention was then pulled away as the creaking door to the tavern swung open. The room fell into silence. The dining Illyrians, previously immersed in their conversations, cast furtive glances toward the entrance.

In stepped the formidable son of Ironcrest’s war-lord, Kallon. Another Illyrian stepped in behind him but he was overshadowed by Kallon’s commanding presence. His gaze swept over the room, eyes like steel, assessing every face, every corner of the establishment. The tension in the air was palpable. He was looking for someone.

The regulars exchanged subtle nods, acknowledging the unspoken command to show respect. Whispers died down, and the muted sound of footsteps echoed as he advanced further into the tavern. The atmosphere had shifted from one of amiability to one of quiet deference, all eyes now focused on the figure who seemed to hold the establishment in the palm of his hand.

Your eyes were wide and you felt your body tense. You almost forgot how to breathe when Kallon’s cold eyes found yours. Seraphine, who sensed your distress, hopped off her chair and ran to you. Her tiny hand found yours and you guided her to stand behind you as Kallon continued his approach.

“Kallon,” you managed to find your voice, forcing a smile onto your face as you bowed your head in respect. “Should I prepare a table for you and your companion?”

“There’s no need.” He replied. He then turned his head at the eavesdropping Illryians, his gaze a silent warning to them. It wasn’t until the menacing look on his face prompted a couple to abandon their tables and those that remained to resume their conversations that he turned his attention back to you. “I came here to speak to you.”

“Me?” You echoed, your voice daring to break. The male behind Kallon remained quiet but you caught the way his gaze had flickered to your little sister, who hid behind your skirts. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“It has come to my attention that you have been fraternizing with an Illyrian male from Windhaven–” Kallon’s lips curled up in disgust and you felt Seraphine’s grip on you tighten. “– who just so happens to also be the High Lord’s general.”

“His name is Cassian.” Seraphine said, peeking out from behind you to scowl at Kallon.

Kallon looked toward your sister with a scoff. You pressed Seraphine into your hip to keep her from speaking again, worried of the consequences that may unfold. “He’s just a friend.”

Kallon’s attention drifted back to you, his gaze burning into you. “It seems you and I have different understandings of a friend because friends don’t kiss each other now do they?”

Your breath hitched. The two of you seldom interacted with each other. The last time you did was to report your mother’s murder. You cursed yourself at that moment, disappointed with yourself. You had failed to recognize that Cassian was well known throughout Illyria and to make it worse, he was from Windhaven. A rival camp to Ironcrest. You wondered how long Kallon had been following you and why he waited to confront you about it now, several months later since Cassian’s first visit.

“I–”

“It’s not a good look for you, y/n.” Kallon shook his head in disapproval with a small tut. “You of all people should know the consequences of whoring yourself out. Finding a husband will be troublesome for you and if you continue down this path, it is not a good example for your dear little sister.”

Your blood grew cold at the insult and you forced yourself to look up to keep the tears that were threatening to spill at bay. “I’m s–”

“It seems I may have failed you in some aspects.” Kallon interrupted, raising a finger at you in warning. He turned his attention to the empty glasses lined at the counter. “It is my job, after all, to help my father run this camp and it seems that I have overlooked you. Poor little y/n. You have been running this business and raising your sister all on your own.”

His fingers danced along the counter, a wicked gleam in his eyes. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the air, a sharp and crystalline shatter that reverberated through your bones and had Seraphine wincing into your body. You stared at the shattered glass at your feet, heart pounding through your ears.

“But it is not your place to do so.” Kallon reprimanded, his voice seething with a barely contained intensity. “It is his.”

You lifted your gaze.

The Illyrian male that had been quietly observant finally stepped forward. His features held a strange familiarity you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were cold and distant, lips pressed into a taut line.

“This is Aerik. Seraphine’s uncle.”

The wind was knocked out of you as the day you had dreaded finally came. Kallon had tracked down your step father’s only living relative– his brother, Aerik. The illusion you had so carefully crafted was unraveling and you found yourself at the precipice, forced to surrender the tavern and Seraphine, as if she were a mere object, to him.

But you knew the future that laid ahead for Seraphine if she stayed with her uncle. To you, she was your precious little sister, the one you had devoted your life to. To him, she was disposable, reduced to nothing but a bargaining tool once she was of marrying age.

She would not have the freedom to be a child as she did with you. She would be groomed to become a submissive wife and soon enough, her wings would be clipped. A tradition that had been banned but not enforced in Ironcrest. You could not allow any harm to fall to your sister, not when you were alive and capable of taking care of her. You wondered if this is how your mother had felt when she had you, cornered by the cruel world.

Kallon had left moments ago, along with the remaining customers, but now without a warning. A threat to harm you and Cassian in unimaginable ways if Kallon heard of Cassian meeting with you again.

"I don't give a fuck if he's the High Lord's pet. This is my father's camp and as his son, I have the authority to punish those who dare cross us as needed."

You had instructed Seraphine to go to the kitchens to help tidy up, leaving you and Aerik alone. Your eyebrows knitted together in an exasperated manner, bewildered by his demands.

You were a half breed–half high fae, half Illyrian–and a bastard. You were of little significance to Aerik–to any male in this damned camp, if you were being honest–and his plans with Seraphine did not include you. He wanted to take her away from you. For good.

He shifted, directing himself toward the kitchen and you were stopping him. Your hand gripped his arm desperately. “Seraphine needs me.”

Aerik tore his arm from your grasp with a snarl, using it to grip yours instead in retribution. His grip was hard and bruising and had you grimacing. “Is this what she needs?” He seethed, vividly gesturing to the tavern and lack of order in Seraphine’s life.

“It seems clear to me that you need her a lot more than she needs you.”

Cassian told himself he would give you space, as tortuous as it was for him. It’s what you had asked him for. He missed you dearly, often wondering if you were feeling that painful ache in your heart too. Despite the temptation, he resisted the urge to ask Azriel to check in on you with his shadows, not wanting to bring his friend into this tangled messy emotions he found himself grappling with. He couldn’t shake the desire to check up on you one more time, hoping that you might've change your mind.

A week later, when an overwhelming sense of unease gripped him, he set off for Ironcrest.

Cassian pushed open the door to the familiar tavern, his second home as Rhysand had teased him weeks ago. His eyes scanned the room in search of you like they always did, but he couldn't spot the one person he was hoping to see. His head was then turning to the table Seraphine often occupied only to find it empty.

An unsettling feeling knotted in his stomach when he couldn’t spot either of you, not missing the glare the male behind the counter had sent his way. It confirmed his suspicion that you weren’t here. Growing concerned, he decided to look for you, hoping you were safe and sound at home.

The journey was swift as it was one he knew by heart, his footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. When he reached your door, he hesitated for a moment. He could see the subtle glow of a light, coming from the small window that he knew faced your living room. He heard a squeak come from inside, recognizing it as Seraphine’s, and then he was knocking on your door.

There was a faint rustling inside and then the door creaked open. Cassian’s confusion set in as he initially saw no one at the other side. It wasn’t until he heard a sharp gasp that his gaze shifted downward, relief washing over him as he spotted Seraphine.

“Cas Cas!” Seraphine’s expression brightened, reveling in his presence and wrapping her tiny arms around him when he crouched down. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“It’s good to see you too, munchkin.” Cassian smiled fondly, lifting her up with ease. He had missed her so much too.

“Sera, it’s time for your ba–Cassian?” You blinked, your grip on the towel in your hand tightening. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Can I come in?”

You looked past his shoulders worriedly and hesitantly nodded.

Cassian stepped into the foyer, crouching down to let Seraphine down. She grasped at his hand, guiding him to the living room where you stood with a forced smile on your face.

His worry deepened as he looked at you. "You weren’t at the tavern so I came to–to see you.”

To make sure you’re alright, is what he wanted to say but within seconds of seeing you, he knew you weren’t. Yet, you still attempted to dismiss his concern with a casual shrug. “My step-uncle is taking over the tavern now.”

“Oh yeah, Cas! I have a step-uncle now and he’s so nice to me. He bought me a new coloring book and so many toys! Do you want to see?”

Cassian realized that the glaring male from the tavern must be Seraphine’s step-uncle. He caught the way you bit the inside of your cheek at your little sister’s words, sensing something more beneath the surface.

“Sure.” He replied to Seraphine.

He waited until she disappeared down the hallway to take a step closer to you. “Is everything okay?”

A fleeting moment of hesitation flickered in your eyes that you quickly concealed, hoping he didn’t notice. But he did.

"I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired but thankfully Aerik offered to step in to help.”

Despite her attempt to reassure him, Cassian couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The lines of worry etched on his face as he spoke, "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

“Yeah,” you nodded your head nonchalantly at him.

“Y/n.” His voice was gentle but stern and he reached out for your hands.

His fingers accidentally brushed against the bruise Aerik had left the other night and you couldn’t mask the wince that followed. Cassian stilled, eyes glancing down and widening at the marking of your skin. “Y/n, Sweetheart–”

“It’s nothing.” You were pulling your arm from his grasp and out of his view, clasping them behind your back. “I tripped and hit my arm against the counter the other night.”

Cassian felt a burning feeling in his chest, his teeth clenching. Someone had touched you--hurt you.

“Does this have anything to do with the sudden appearance of Seraphine’s uncle?”

“No.” Your response was too quick to be anything but a lie. “Aerik has been kind to us. So kind that he offered to help me find a husband.”

More lies. Your fear and anxiety grew with every passing moment that Cassian remained in Ironcrest. Kallon’s menacing warnings echoed in your mind, threatening dire consequences for both you and Cassian, if he ever returned. Since he had gone to the tavern to look for you, you were sure Aerik had seen him. Cassian was not one to easily blend into the crowd with his imposing stature, striking features and seven siphons. It was only a matter of time before he would run off to go tell Kallon.

You knew Cassian was a formidable warrior from all the gossip and tales you'd heard at the bonfire. Still, you couldn't shake your fear. Cassian was in enemy territory. Vastly outnumbered. He had to leave.

Cassian shook his head in disbelief, swallowing hard. “What?”

Stepping forward, he closed the distance between you, his intense gaze burning into your skin as you actively avoided it. “Is this what you want?”

“It’s what is best,” you told him, sidestepping his question. “So please leave. I don’t want Aerik to get the wrong idea by having you here in the house alone with me.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m so sorry, Cassian.”

Walking away, you felt your heart begin to shatter, unaware that you had also shattered his. You wiped at your eyes once you knew you were out of his view, holding your breath as you moved down the hallway. Seraphine ran past you with her coloring book and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop her.

Seraphine paused, her chest heaving as she caught up with her breath. Her lips curved into a deep frown when she spotted Cassian heading for the door. “Cas Cas, where are you going? I was going to show you my coloring book…"

"I thought you were here to stay.”

Cassian couldn’t bring himself to answer her and as young as she was, she recognized the look in his eyes. It mirrored the expression on your face before you had to deliver bad news.

“You can leave again if you want.” Seraphine said as realization dawned on her. She casted her head down.

“I’ll remember you though. I remember everyone that leaves.”

[series masterlist]

A/N: don't hate me for breaking Cas's heart. I just live for the angst 🫠 if it's any consolation, this will have a happy ending 🩷

tagging: @kemillyfreitas

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #acotar cassian #acotar imagine #cassian imagine #cassian fluff #cassian angst #acotar fluff #acotor angst #acotar x reader #cassian acotar #soy

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littlenightma · 9 months

Text

Warm Hands | Rusty Nail x Female!Reader | Part 2 (NSFW)

Author’s Note: Part 1

Tags: NSFW content, older man/younger woman, size difference, dubious consent, kidnapping, possessive behavior, Rusty is doting on reader, lots o’ smut.

The convenience store had long disappeared beyond the horizon miles back, but you still stared at the rear view mirror hoping it would somehow appear again or that you would wake up in your bed letting you know this was all just a bad dream.

The snow storm was worsening as time passed, layering the road with snow, ice, and dirt. He took his time driving and acted nonchalant to the fact that he kidnapped you as he occasionally fiddled with the radio when it lost signal.

Your grocery bag sat in your lap, teasing you of what your night could have been. Watching your favorite show while you lounged on couch, eating your snacks and watching as the snow fell peacefully outside.

Yeah, what could have been.

“What’s your name?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.”

You visibly deflated. “I meant your real name.”

“That is my name.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a nickname. There’s a difference.”

Rusty shook his head, further cementing his previous statement. “I haven’t considered myself that name in years. Everyone knows me as Rusty and that’s what you’ll call me too.”

“Don’t you want to know my name at least?”

His eyes twinkled amusingly. “I already what your name is, [Y/N].”

Your mouth parted in confusion. “Wait — how do you know that?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached into his jacket and pulled out your wallet, offering it back to you. His voice and face teamed up to convey their disapproval and you felt like a child being chastised by their parent for being caught sneaking out at night.

“This fell when you tried running away from me.”

You took your wallet and examined it in disdain. You never realized it fell nor that he picked it up. So now he knew not just your name, but also where you lived. Great. You stuffed it into your own jacket roughly, punishing it for making your situation worse.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“Home. It’s not too much further.”

You drew your eyebrows together. “You’re taking me to your home?”

He glanced at you then back to the road. “Where did you think I was taking you?”

You shrugged, mumbling quietly. “I don’t know, some cheap motel or something...”

He sighed heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling with confliction. He then rubbed his chin in thought before finally settling on what to say.

“Well, I ain't, so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You scuffed at his absurd logic. “Yeah, like that’s what I’m worried about.”

Stop calling me pretty.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No, but I know I won’t change your mind either.”

“You could let me go.”

His answer was quick and final. “No.”

You shook your bag in aggravation, crumbling the snacks inside. “Why not? Can’t you find someone else to fuck?”

He raised an eyebrow, giving you a questioning glance. “Who said anything about fucking you?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. His head had to be screwed on too tight or maybe he was smoking more than just a nicotine cigarette.

“You! Back at the store you said you wanted company for the night. What else is that supposed to mean? I sure as hell know you’re not taking me home to chat about this lovely weather we’re having.”

He chuckled low, long fingers gliding across the steering wheel as he turned it. Those same fingers flexed away from the wheel before going back to gripping it until his knuckles turned white. His voice noticeably deepened in timbre, exacerbated with desire as he spoke.

“I have every intention on getting you in my bed tonight, but it isn’t to fuck you like some lot lizard I found slinking in the streets. Oh no, little one, I’m gonna be to taking my sweet time with you and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”

In that moment, the truck passed another car who was going just as slow and careful. Their headlights brightened the tenebrous truck and in their hazy glow, Rusty’s blue eyes caught yours. They threatened you with a dark seductiveness and a dangerous allure and had Rusty not kept on driving you would have thought he was getting ready to pounce you right there.

You found yourself struck silent, dumbfounded and uneasy. You wordlessly turned back in your seat and watched as snowflakes hit the glass pane of your window. His words played back in your mind over and over again like it was an old VCR player and somebody was constantly pressing replay.

From his side of the truck, Rusty’s resistance was waning as time passed into the drive and the more he sensed your rising turmoil. He wanted to pull the truck over to the curb and spread you wide over his seats so he could quell your worries.

He had no intention of bringing home any woman when he stopped by the local shop to get a working lighter and a pack of cigarettes. After being on the road for months on end, he was ready to call it quits for a while, get some chores done around the house he’d been putting off and rest up while he had the chance to.

Funny how plans could change in a blink of an eye.

He swore he stood witness to an angel dashing through those sliding doors bearing a halo of snow and a mischievous smile highlighting your pink champagne lips. He smelled your shampoo when you whipped by briskly not sparing him a glance. He peered curiously over the shelves and watched you peruse the store in determination. He figured you were after something important like bread or milk or even a flashlight, but when you came around the corner carrying an accomplished grin and an arm full of sweets, he grinned himself.

Cute little thing.

He thought nothing more you after that, still intending to get his smokes and lighter and head home, but whether by accident or fate, his hand brushed yours when he passed you and it all hit him at once; your soft skin, your slight intake of breath, your timorous glance and just like that you had drawn him in. Rusty was enamored and he wanted nothing more than for you to follow him because between the few steps he took between you and the door, he decided he wasn’t going home alone tonight.

He waited patiently in his truck for you, cock already half-erect and painful from the delicious images in his head. He lit a cigarette and adjusted himself. Inclining his head back, he blew a few rings of smoke up into the air. His bed had been feeling mighty cold lately the thought of you warming it sounded too good too pass up. He looked out the window and saw you walking closer, eyeing his truck with apprehension.

Come to me, pretty girl. Just a little closer now.

He rolled the window down.

~ ~ ~ ~

“She ain’t much, but she’s home.”

He pulled the truck up a long and winding dirt road until a two-story, white farm house came into view. It looked run down and unkept, but it was a lot better than the dungeon you had pictured in your mind on the way there.

He got out of the truck and came around to your side. He unlocked your door with a key he took from his pocket and offered you a hand. You eyed it with uncertainty and glanced behind his raised arm into the vast darkness where the crystalline snow morphed into the black of night. You contemplated whether or not you should make a run for it.

“I know these mountains like the back of my hand. You’d never make it out of them before I or the animals get you and that’s only if you don’t freeze to death first. But—” He opened the door wider and stepped aside. “—If you’re that set on leaving then I won’t stop you.”

The chilly night air brushed against the back of your neck threateningly. You pressed your lips together. He was right. Running away would be a death sentence. What made it even worse was that you knew he knew you wouldn’t actually run so him giving you an opportunity to was his way of showing you who was actually in control and it was working. Begrudgingly, you placed a hand in his. He squeezed it, giving you a gruntled look.

“Good girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The people pleaser in you delighted in the praise even though it came from Rusty. He led you up the walkway still holding your hand. You didn’t understand why since it should have been clear that you weren’t going to run, but when when you almost slipped on a nasty patch of ice, he steadied you with his strong grip and his refusal to drop your hand became perfectly clear; he was making sure you didn’t fall and hurt yourself.

The inside of his house was interesting to say the least as it looked pretty much abandoned. Cobwebs hung in intricate designs from the ceiling fan and the hardwood floor had long lost its shine due to the several years worth dirt and dust doing their best to speed up the aging process. Various things were stacked into high piles in the corners of the room while others were haphazardly thrown about, forgotten and unused. The house appeared more like a storage unit than an actual home.

Rusty went and turned on a few lamps and the heating system, warming the house both in light and temperature. He came around and took off your coat and laid it on the back of the couch along with his two which left him in a green, button up flannel and a brown t-shirt. He was more well-built than you’d expected and when he bent down to pick up one of his coats that fell to the floor, his arm muscles flexed and you were intimidated by how dramatically they bulged.

He could really hurt me if he wanted to…

Curiosity got the best of you as you wandered the house. You were in awe with how much stuff there was to look at and for a couple of minutes your mind forgot why you were brought here in the first place as you glided your fingers across the different things you came across. Rusty trailed a few feet behind you. He kept quiet, letting you do your own thinking. He found himself growing more self conscious about the state of his house and hoped you didn’t find it too much of a wreck.

“You don’t really spend a lot of time here, do you?”

Rusty shook his head, a hint of regret in his voice. “No, not really. My job requires me to be on the road most of the time so everything in here just sits collecting dust for the most part. Could always use a women’s touch I suppose.”

“You mean to clean?”

Rusty grimaced when he realized how his comment came across and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

You laughed softly. “I know what you meant. Maybe you’ll find someone who will add some life to this place.”

His gaze settled on you, unwavering and penetrating. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You turned away from his unspoken insinuation and met a set of stairs leading you up to what had to be his bedroom. It was the only room you hadn’t encountered yet. No longer feeling up to exploring you tried turning back, but Rusty stopped you short.

“You still have one more room left to see.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t want to see it.”

He leaned in his closer as if to share a secret. His lips scraped your ear, traveling up to your temple, right above your eye where he pressed a kiss there. The small, loving gesture quelled your consternation, but a thick, foreboding cloud of doubt still lingered because the kiss held an implying promise of what was yet to come. You pressed your face into his chest seeking comfort and he rubbed your back a few times before he turned you around to face the stairs.

“Stairway to heaven, sweetheart. Up you go.”

He lightly swatted your backside causing you to yelp. You felt his chest move as he chuckled and pushed you forward. With your head bowed defeatedly, you trudged up the steps. Rusty couldn’t help but appreciate the sway of your hips and how tight your jeans were.

Entering the bedroom, he slid past you, catching one of your belt loops with his finger. He tugged you with him to the bed where he sat on the edge of it, pulling you between his knees. You wrapped your arms around yourself and waited for his direction. You felt out of place and worried that if you didn’t do good enough that it would cause him to become angry and lash out at you. Without dropping your gaze, he unbuttoned his flannel and peeled it off before lifting the brown t-shirt over his head, taking his hat with it. He threw the clothes and hat, well, you didn’t know where he threw them because you were too busy being mesmerized by his chest.

His chest was a chest belonging to a laborer, well muscled and broad. The temptation to touch him was hard to resist and before you knew it, you were exploring it like much like you did his house, running your fingers through the sparse salt and pepper hair. He radiated warmth like a cup of freshly poured coffee that you couldn’t wait to wrap your hands around and enjoy.

As you marveled his body, the next words tumbled out before you could stop them. “You’re really handsome, Rusty. Like one of those greek sculptures.”

The astonished look on his usual stoic face made you regret your words. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Embarrassed, you dropped your hands and whispered an apology. Rusty was quick to mend things.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, darlin.’ I just ain’t used to receiving compliments is all.” He grabbed your hands and placed them back on his shoulders and smiled gently. “Will you keep going for me?”

Instead of going back down his chest, you chose to run your hands up the back of his neck to his head. Rusty sat with his hands on your hips, enjoying the attention you were giving him. He closed his eyes when your nails scraped his scalp and groaned loudly.

“Fuck, baby. That feels nice.”

Without his eyes on you, you felt more comfortable to do your own thing and in a spur of confidence, you peeled your shirt off and unhooked your bra. Rusty opened his eyes questioningly and instantly locked onto your breasts that were bobbing teasingly a few inches away. His mouth parted and without a warning he latched onto a nipple and began sucking. His tongue swirled around it, hardening it until it was ripe, and he let it go to do the same to the other one.

Your head leaned back while your chest leaned forward into his mouth. One of your hands cradled the back of his head while the other raked through his long hair, pushing it back from his face so he could suck without interruption. You both groaned in unison from the reciprocating pleasure.

With your hands still lost in his hair, he roamed his own over your stomach, appreciating how perfect and healthy you looked. He wanted to mark you somehow. He wanted you remember this night long after it’s over, like a blood stain that refused to lift.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and hurled you onto your back on the bed. The old springs squealed beneath the toppling weight of you and Rusty. He loomed over you on all fours like a predator ready to ravage its prey. You felt the vibration of your zipper being pulled down against your pussy and it sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. Sliding his hands beneath you, he coaxed you up.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

Maybe it was his deep southern drawl or the way he naturally exuded power and dominance that compelled you to obey without question because as soon as he commanded you to, your hips were in the air. He pulled your jeans down until they were mid-thigh and from there he slipped your off your shoes and socks before sliding the jeans the rest of the way. So now you lay in his bed with nothing but a pair of panties and you couldn’t have been more nervous for them to be stripped away too.

You were a perfect balance between shy and tempting. You crossed your legs attempting to hide from his lecherous gaze, but it was fruitless. Rusty had already mesmerized your beautiful body and all its curves and bends. He grabbed the plush muscle of your thighs, kneading it like dough. His eyes asked for permission to go further, to finally touch you where he desperately wanted to. You sucked in a breath and nodded, looking up at him with so much trust. It warmed Rusty up better than any blazing fire ever could.

You’re safe with me, little one. You’ll always be safe with me.

He peeled your underwear down slowly. His eyes never rose until they were completely gone, tossing them aside like everything else. The air swept across your bareness and you knew there was no going back now. When he did finally look, he made a noise low in his throat and his eyes darkened to a deeper shade. Your pussy was already glistening for him. He pushed your knee with a heavy palm, prompting you to spread yourself.

His lecherous stare on any other man would have repulsed you, but on him it only made the butterflies in your stomach flutter eagerly. Gradually, like the first drifts of snow falling from a cliff before the start of an avalanche, the heavy walls you had built finally collapsed and you shuddered happily.

He playfully rubbed his chin on your thigh. The stubble from his jaw tickled your skin and you reacted in a fit of giggles. Rusty visibly lit up at the sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard laughter in his house. He did it again, eyes focused on you. He earned another laugh and loved the smile you tried preventing from spreading. You lurched forward and pushed his face away.

“Hey, stop that! It tickles!”

He smirked, feigning innocence. “Stop what?”

Your eyes narrowed. “You know what.”

“Let me just go down lower then…”

His full lips kissed your thighs, going further until they hovered over your folds. Your breath hitched when his hot breath warmed your pussy. He was so close, yet so far away. It was delicious torture. When you lifted your hips up to his mouth, he abruptly pulled away. You noisily voiced your dissatisfaction.

“Want do you want, baby? Use your words. I ain’t no mind reader.”

You lifted your hips again, begging helplessly. “Rusty.”

“Rusty what? What do you want me to do?”

“I want your mouth on me. Make me come, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He used two fingers to spread your lips open and latched onto your clit without mercy. A guttural sound echoed in the room and your eyes widened when you realized it didn’t come from Rusty, but from you. This spurred Rusty on and he sucked your sensitive clit so good that you thought the roof was caving in as your eyes rolled back into your skull. You tangled your hands into his hair, using his face as a make shift saddle and his curls as the reins.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised adoringly between licks. “Make me put my mouth exactly where you want it.”

You tugged his hair and pushed him down in a particular spot that had you shaking and weeping because his stubbled chin rubbed your aching pussy in all the right and wrong ways. Soon you felt yourself drawing close to your release and you grinded fiercely on his face in anticipation.

“Rusty—” you gasped, back arching, “I’m going to cum. Don’t stop!”

You could bring any man to his knees by begging like that and you surely brought him to his. There was nothing Rusty wouldn’t have done for you in that moment if it meant hearing that sweet voice of yours crying out to him in ecstasy.

“Fill my mouth, little one,” he growled, reclaiming your pussy with an animalistic ferocity, hungrily eating you out with his entire face buried between your legs so that only the back of his head could be seen.

Like the good girl you were, you did exactly as you were told. Your ribs expanded from the gasp, head reeling back as your orgasm shook you. Rusty never stopped thrusting his tongue, lapping up every drop of your cum. He swiftly pulled you forward so could he drive his tongue further and as expertly as he drove his truck. From his position on his knees, he watched you writhe and squirm, unable to keep still from the intense pleasure that overwhelmed you.

Your thighs locked around his head and covered his ears, muffling your loud moans. Rusty licked everywhere, from the inside of your thighs to the very inner workings of your spasming pussy as if he was a starving man who refused to be wasteful. With a final swipe of his long tongue, Rusty had you cleaned up good. He then placed a satisfied kiss on your pussy before straightening himself.

“How you feeling?”

“I…I need a minute,” you said between breaths. “It’s never felt like that before.”

He kissed your shoulder, purring reassuringly. “Take all the time you need, darlin’. There’s no rush.”

Comforted by his words, you laid back leisurely on his pillows, still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm. Rusty laid beside you, running his hands over you soothingly. The lamp on his bedside table casted a tangerine glow on your body and it suited your flushed face perfectly.

A few hours ago you wanted nothing to do with Rusty or his hands. But now your eyes followed their every move, seeking them out when he raised them away then relaxing when he brought them back down again.

His movements casted a soporific effect on you, and soon your eyes began to flutter close and your breathing slowed down to an even rhythm. Your body sank deeper into the mattress as the tension left your body and to Rusty it only confirmed to him that he had an angel sleeping in his bed.

Rusty bent down and kissed the valley between your breasts, easing you back awake. “Don’t give out on me yet, pretty girl. We’re just getting started.”

#rusty nail #rusty nail x reader #slasher community #joy ride 2: dead ahead (2008)#joy ride 2 #mark gibbon #original writing #slasher x reader #slashers

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