#like even when she's pointing a gun at him he's all heart eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princessbrunette · 5 months

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CRUSH ♡

… based loosely on the song crush by ethel cain ⊹˚. ♡

pairing: linecook!jj maybank + sweetheart!reader

synopsis: you’re head over heels for your bad-boy coworker, jj— the linecook for the outerbanks beachside restaurant you waitress at. a customer spilling coffee over your uniform catalysts a chain of events.

cw: a gun but no violence, shitty customers, jj being jj, smut.

You didn’t really know about restaurant employee culture until you started your job as a waitress. Stereotypes, things that fate would just simply decide to come true in every single restaurant no matter what. Waitresses were either the sweetest people you’d ever met or the bitchiest, managers had favourites and if you weren’t one of them they treat you like shit, the kid who gets stuck on dishwasher duty was always younger than everyone and fell in love with all the waitresses— uber specific and odd stuff. Oh, and that linecooks were troubled, or whores.

JJ Maybank was more troubled than the latter. Well, you’d hoped so anyways. You’d had a crush on the blonde linecook from your very first day, a quieter morning at the beginning of spring when the beachside restaurant was criminally understaffed. Your manager had appointed him to show you around before either of you had even made it inside, the tough older woman calling him out as he arrived to work, climbing off his bike, chewing on a toothpick with headphones over his ears. Your heart had fluttered when he bantered with the older woman, pointing to the music-playing-muffs over his ears, mouthing an ‘I can’t hear you, sorry’ when she’d approached him.

You’d felt embarrassed almost, like you were taking up his time. He was clearly comfortable here, had a good relationship with everybody— even the manager who seemed to hate the world tenfold. She’d yanked off his headphones and jut her thumb towards you as he stared her down with a mischievous grin.

“Maybank, I need you to show around the newbie— uh, what’s your name again sweetheart?” She spins to you, and for the first time JJ’s eyes flicker towards you, brows jumping up just a hair, a micro-expression that only you could hold onto for hope. Hope that he might be a little interested. You speak your name, and he’s swerving around the manager in his white tshirt, apron tied lazily around his waist, hung down, not even wearing it over his shirt like he’s meant to, black backwards cap over blonde messy hair.

“Well it is very nice to meet you ma’am.” He juts out a hand with a stupidly large grin that makes you feel even more shy.

You remember that day so clearly, the blonde showing you the ropes, practically training you whilst your manager chain smoked out the back. You remembered how you hadn’t had a proper school-girl style crush like this since forever, and one day into working at the restaurant you were already head over heels for the loud and hyperactive Pogue.

A few months down the line, and your bond had blossomed. Well, somewhat — it was a busy restaurant, lots of waitresses and cooks and customers. There wasn’t always time for chit-chat and flirting. Which sometimes you were grateful for, plates clanking awkwardly in your hands as you spot a more confident waitress trying her luck with him, hair twirled around a long finger. You were delusional enough to believe JJ seemed politely disinterested at the least, choosing to busy himself with ruffling the top of your head with his knuckles as you pass by him, hiding your smile at his acknowledgment.

You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends. You’d hoped not anyway, dreading being stuck in the friendzone with the guy you’d spent months pining after. You couldn’t be friends because you’d never hung out with him outside of work, not that you’d deny him but he’d never asked. You’d seen him around, don’t get it twisted — that group of friends of his; the brunette one who always seemed to be the talk of the town, the darker skinned boy who seemed too smart to be slumming it on a boat smoking weed, and a girl — who laughed at all of JJ’s jokes and threw glares to anyone she deemed too ‘Kook-y’. That was some serious intel, but you swear up and down you weren’t a stalker— just paying attention when you’d see him outside of the workplace.

JJ made it clear you were his favourite waitress. Well, he’d said it himself, holding a plate just out of your reach when you’d come to collect an order, playful smirk on his face as he stares down at you. “Can I have my order?” you pretend to hate it, hiding your smile as you huff, reaching out.

“I dunno, I could almost swear there’s a magic word that you’re missing there, girlie. Y’wanna help me out with that? Orrrr…” He tilts his head, playing dumb and you let the smile free— cheeks pushing up as you gaze at his stupid expression.

“Please, JJ.” You offer sweetly instead of sassing him, which makes his heart clench a little because you were just an absolute sweetheart by nature. He lowers the plate, hovering it above your palm and giving you a more serious look.

“Plates hot, alright? Better be careful with those delicate mittens.” You roll your eyes bashfully and he presses it into your palm. The plate was warm at best, it seeming that JJ would say anything just to keep the conversation going longer than it needed to.

“Thank you.” You smile once it was in your hand and he nods, faux solemnly as he backs off back to his work station, ignoring the knowing stare from his partner linecook.

“So polite, s’why you’re my favourite, princess.” He points with a wink and you turn away before he can see how flustered it made you. Princess, are you kidding me? It’s like he wanted to make you drop the plate. He watches the door swing as you head back out into the bustling restaurant, and jumps a little in surprise when he turns back to come face to face with another linecooks smirk.

“Playin’ favourites, huh Maybank?”

The blonde itches his cheek, bashful with a shrug— going back to chopping a carrot like he was before.

“Yeah well— doesn’t everyone do that here?” He tries to brush it off, head swivelling to glance back at the door, just incase you overheard.

“Yeah… yeah, chose a pretty one though, I’ll give you that. Lemme know when you’re done with it, I wanna play.” He speaks with a stomach-turning smile, and certainly doesn’t miss the way JJ’s jaw clenches, knife nearly going not only through the carrot but the chopping board too. Dont cause a scene now, Jayj.

JJ was troubled, like you’d said. You’d heard whispers from waitresses or friends of a friend outside of work — things about his father always being in jail, the blonde himself ending up in overnight cells a series of times. You’d heard about fights, his name always ringing close to the scene, even car chases and rumours about his run ins with big time criminals— but you wasn’t sure how verifiable any of these were.

It didn’t seem totally far fetched though, the Pogue occasionally showing up to his shift with his head down, a new bruise splattered on his cheek bone or a gnarly gash. He had one the day things changed, a cut through his lip, gone almost black from blood constantly drying after he’d assumably lick it open. From a glance, it almost looked like a lip-ring, and he sported it well with a large greenish yellow bruise beside his eye over his temple. You wish you felt close enough to ask where they came from, but knew that would be prying. You didn’t even wanna listen in when you’d see the manager nod him into her office to give him ‘the talk’ and ask about it presumably, which you’d also guessed she’d gained no information from as he’d leave her office looking casual whilst she still wore that slightly frustrated and worried look on her face.

Everyone seemed to be in a weird mood that day, even the customers. It wasn’t really his fault, the man somehow backing into you abruptly enough for you to spill an old container of coffee all down yourself. Well, to rephrase — it was an accident, which was actually the best case scenario considering you’d had drinks poured down you on purpose for making them wrong before.

You get that awful coil of embarrassment in your stomach when you walk into the kitchen, beige staining right through your usual pristine uniform and falling in droplets off the ends of your hair. JJ sees the pout before the stains, and it comes as no surprise to the other linecooks when he rushes over like prince charming.

“You good? Someone do that to you?” He’s already trying to bound past you to go and ‘handle the situation’ (AKA, kick them out) but you shake your head— not really upset just tired, and now cold thanks to the old coffee soaking through to your skin.

“It was an accident. I don’t have anything to change into so I don’t know if I should just… go home, or something.” You hold your hands out in frustration, looking down at yourself.

“Oh, nah— don’t sweat it. Got a spare shirt in my locker you can wear. S’just a white t-shirt, should do the trick.” He steps backwards.

“But it’s not uniform?” You furrow your brows and he huffs out a chuckle at you always being such a stickler for following the rules. “Our manager will have my head, surely.”

“Think she’d rather that than you walkin’ round smellin’ like cold brew.” He fishes through his pockets and tosses you a small key with a red triangle keychain on the end, the key to his locker in the staff cloakroom. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks Jayj.” You smile, excusing yourself shyly at the use of the nickname you’ve heard others use on him but always chickened out on. He noticed, because he shows all his teeth when he smiles and nods, turning back around.

The cloakroom always smells weird— like mulch and rubber, a cold and windowless room with a bench and a wall of seafoam lockers. You flip the key in your hand, spotting the number on the back and match it to the lockers. Wearing JJ’s shirt, huh — you smile to yourself, feeling giddy and stupid at the butterflies that brush their wings against the inside of your stomach. He was just doing you a favour, sure — but you got to prance around wearing him all day, and that was enough to fuel your delusion. You off your stained shirt, leaving you in just a small and flimsy tank top that you usually wear beneath it incase of accidents like this.

You open the locker, and something black immediately drops out onto the floor, echoing loudly and bouncing once a tiny bit by your feet. The weird clinical lighting of the cloakroom casts a dark shadow below where your head searches down for it, so you move slightly— brows furrowing when you see the shape of it.

Your brain clearly hasn’t processed or caught up with just quite what you’re looking at as you bend down, lips parted as you pick the item up in your hand, standing back to full height once more. In your hand, you stared directly at a gun. A pistol, to be precise. You seem to be in shock, the weapon glued to your hand despite anyone being able to walk in and get you fired and or reported to the police within a matter of seconds. You turn the weapon in your hand in fascination, whispering a “What the…” to yourself.

JJ leans against the doorway with a forearm, just now remembering what resided in that very locker other than the shirt he so generously offered. He’s distracted for a moment by your skin, the skin on the back of your arms and your back as you stand with your uniform shirt bunched in your hand, until of course he spots what’s held in your other hand and physically winces.

“Shit, uh—” JJ vocalises and your head snaps around, sighing in relief once you see that it’s just him. You’re back to marvelling in shock at the item in an instant, ogling between him and the weapon. “So, that’s — that’s not what it looks like—”

“A gun?” You whisper the second word, looking up at him with wide eyes and he points the pistol downwards with his finger when you hold it accidentally facing him.

“Well, okay I mean yes — it’s a gun, but I had no choice. Had to momentarily keep it here, alright? I took it in for a friend and —”

“What are you, some kind of hitman?” You shake your head, earrings jangling a little with your stressed little gesture which would usually warm his heart if he wasn’t focused on deescalating.

“Okay, first of all— why don’t I take this from you missy,” He eases the gun out of your hands and accidentally fumbles it inside his locker, the weapon clattering against the echoey walls making him let out a quiet ‘whoops’ before placing a black gym bag on top of it. He turns to you. “Secondly, no okay I’m not a hitman— I haven’t ever shot a person with this thing.”

“Then… why do you have it?” You furrow your brows, seeming to have calmed down a little, which was relieving despite your reaction being totally valid.

“W—you know, gotta stay strapped. Protect my people.” He shrugs, attempting nonchalance and your eye twitches, realising how different the two of you are. JJ, bad boy with a gun in his locker— and you, straight arrow waitress. “Look all m’saying is if you told me someone was messing with you… I wouldn’t hesitate.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, wondering what on Earth he was going through to lead him to owning a gun, but you daren’t ask— even now. You eye him, brows knitting cutely.

“And you’re sure you’re not some serial killer?” You ask, folding your arms. Mostly joking. Mostly.

“Yeah nah I couldn’t do the whole choppin’ up dead bodies thing, m’pretty squeamish n’I got this thing with my gag reflex where y’know, I — I just—” He gestures to his throat, head bobbing with a preemptive gag but sees the way you’re staring at him like he’d just stepped off a space ship from Mars and decides against the bit, clearing his throat and glancing into his locker. “Enough of that uh— why don’t I go ahead and grab you that shirt you were after…” He reaches inside his locker, pulling out balled up white shirt, quickly turning it back from being inside out.

“There y’go…” He murmurs as he does so to no one in particular before shoving his arms inside and pulling the head hole wider before stuffing you inside it, tugging it until your head pops out, still staring at him a little dumbfounded. “Peekaboo.” He smiles nervously before leaving you to shove your own arm holes through, pulling it down over your tank top. He awkwardly watches before you hand him back his key and he locks his locker once more, glancing around at you.

“So about the—”

“Your secrets safe with me JJ. Thanks for the shirt.”

You swan around in the white fabric like it’s a ball gown for the rest of the day. Delusional didn’t feel like the right word, no— he gave you the shirt, which in your head is flirting— handing you the opportunity to daydream about being his girlfriend and wearing his clothes all the time. Each time you moved you could smell him on you, that faint smell of cigarettes and just him — reminding you of the times you’ve caught him on a rough shift fumbling for a pack of Marlboro Red’s and heading out the back door to be angsty for a while before returning with a plastered on smile. You bite your lip, staring into space as you rub the material between your fingers, waiting for a table to flag you down, excited for the next time you could go into the kitchen and see him… have him see you, wearing his shirt only hoping it hot-wires his brain with some sort of romantic association. Oh, JJ Maybank. He just made you so… so…

“Ugh, mmph JJ!” You cry out, later that night. Guilty, you ended up in nothing but the t-shirt and two fingers stuffed into your weeping cunt. You felt kind of perverse, despite the million promises to yourself to wash the shirt immediately after to return to him— but also there was just something painfully arousing about touching yourself wearing it— every layer beneath it removed to have your hardened nipples peak beneath the thin white fabric, tousled and jostled up where your ribcage was as you grind your digits inside of you.

You were home alone, like usual — which gave you the perfect opportunity to moan his name. Too horny to care about the 0.05% chance he’s strolling in your area and walking past the window, hearing. Even the idea of that aroused you further in the moment, wondering just what he’d think if he knew the sweet and harmless waitress was defiling her cunt in his name, in his shirt. You think about best case scenario, the blonde with his rough hand around his cock— and you knew it was rough from the way it felt when he’d touch your arm or brush against your fingers when handing you a dish. Rough from working on his bike and handling hot food and other Maybank shenanigans that still lead him to fist at his dick in his room at night thinking of you, you and only you.

You cum in your palm and feel disgraced. Poor JJ. You’re a total pervert and you must wash that shirt.

Except you don’t, and you fall asleep— returning to work in your spare uniform the next day. Empty handed. JJ doesn’t notice, hell — he doesn’t care. He’s stacked up with so many orders you almost feel bad even though it’s not your fault. Maybe you’re still riding off the guilt of masturbating in his shirt. There’s a sick sense of pride that twists in your gut when you look at him though. Boyish, sometimes thoughtless blonde with no idea that you came so hard moaning his name just a matter of hours before facing him again. You catch him in a quieter moment, leaning over to his station with a stressed expression to tell him that you forgot to bring his shirt back, to which he just responds with a shrug and a careless wave that read as ‘It’s cool.’ That was the JJ you knew. Cool, calm, didn’t give a shit. You got butterflies at the minute gesture. God, get a grip.

The next time it comes up, it’s because he brings it up. Catching you on your break, a cheekful of pasta he’d made for you to quickly cram down before your manager gets onto you for slacking off— JJ approaches your little table outside, blonde hair feathery and light in the sun. “Howdy there, shirt thief.” He grins lightheartedly, pulling out the other chair on the small circle table you sat at and straddling it backwards, leaning his arms on the backrest.

You nearly choke on your pasta at the speed you go to explain yourself— way to not make yourself seem guilty. “It’s in the washing machine, I literally just kept forgetting I’m sorry JJ.” You look all sweet and worried in the way that makes him wanna pinch your cheeks, so he fiddles with his lighter instead, flicking it on and off in his grasp.

“Nah you’re good.” He chuckles, staring out at the water the restaurant overlooked. It was a windier day, and even from where you sat you could hear the loud roaring of distant waves. “Hey uh— you want a ride home on the old bike? I can come in and grab it if like— if that’s cool.” He suggests, almost seeming a bit hesitant, nervous even.

“Oh! Yeah, I mean I’d have to stick it in the dryer first but you’re free to hang out whilst it dries… unless you really gotta go then, you can have your shirt back damp, I guess.” You mirror the nervous energy tenfold, practically stumbling over yourself to not sound as eager as you were. JJ, in your house.

“Yeah, sweet. Cool cool cool cool.” He bops his head, drumming on the table before suddenly his name was called from inside.

“Maybank! These fish aren’t gonna fry themselves, you know that right?” The tough, unmistakable chain smoker voice of your manager rings through the air and JJ winces theatrically for your entertainment, making you giggle the same way a child might after a party clown does something stupid. It was kind of pathetic, but atleast JJ found it endearing.

You weren’t lying about the shirt, thankfully. Honest — the JJ smell was gone so you’d tossed it in the washing machine before you’d head out onto your shift, planning on finally (reluctantly) returning it the next day.

He pushes himself up to leave, before pausing and leaning over the table towards you. You freeze, and he brings his thumb to your cheek — swiping away a speck of sauce from the pasta that has splattered into your skin from how greedily you wolfed down his food. “Lemme just… get that for you.” He mutters as he does so, turning his thumb around to show you the sauce stain that had transferred to his skin and ease your confusion.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he holds your gaze as he leans back, bringing his thumb to his mouth, cleaning off the sauce. Oh, you sick bastard. He doesn’t even try and hide his smirk— and you stare dumbly at the space he stood even after he’s long gone.

The shift dragged on, tip tapping your feet whenever you stood still for too long, excited bubbles in your stomach fizzing up like shaken pop everytime you thought about the linecook. It felt like hours longer than usual, but finally — the end of your shift came. JJ’s had ended twenty minutes earlier, being replaced by another chef whose plates were always too hot and spoke too loud, making the last stretch of your working hour even tougher. You thought JJ might have forgotten about your little arrangement, just taking off to head home or to go and smoke on the rickety little boat you’d seen him on— but lo and behold, you step out the doors to that wretched place and there he is, leaning on his bike like something out of an 80s movie.

“No helmet?” You’re grinning by the time you reach him, barely containing your excitement. You don’t think you’ve even been on the back of one of these bikes before, let alone with the boy you’re crushing on. JJ scrunches his nose, wincing.

“Wasn’t countin’ on having anyone else on board today, that’s my bad.” He helps you climb on, ensuring you’re sat securely. “I’m a good driver, you’ll be alright. Just uh— hold on tight and I’ll avoid any big potholes, yeah?” He reaches back, taking your arms and wrapping them around his middle, forcing you against his warm back. He’d probably done that for plenty of people, the way it came naturally to him— but in that moment you didn’t care, just nodding as you leant more against him. You tell him your address, and he recognises it, someone he knows living near by. With that, the two of you are off.

You’re truly in bliss, closing your eyes with your cheek pressed to his back, wind whipping past your face. He is a good driver, and you dare even let yourself believe he’s being extra careful with you on board, none of the harsh turns or skids you’ve seen him do on the streets alone. Your cheeks start to ache with how much you’re smiling.

“You all good back there my lil’ backpack?” He pats your leg in a friendly manner at a stop light and you giggle, embarrassed with how fast goosebumps break out.

“Yeah, this is fun!” You yell at an unnecessary volume to be heard over the running engine, making him chuckle and glance round at you.

“Good, that’s good.”

You’re almost sad when the ride is over, his wheels coming to a slow as he parks up haphazardly beside your front lawn. You’re quick to pat your head down, knowing that journey must have you looking dishevelled at best and hop off the bike, patting the pocket of your shorts for your keys.

“My humble abode awaits.” You chirp, cringing afterwards but he smirks and follows you regardless, pulling up his pants boyishly as he stalks behind you up to your front door. Inside your head is a chant, one that consists of hoping and praying your parents wouldn’t be home so you didn’t have to do the whole awkward explanation thing, not that you didn’t have a totally valid excuse — and you were grown, so interacting with boys shouldn’t be the awkward dilemma that it was — but to them you were still their sweet girl regardless of age, and you’d like to keep it that way, which wouldn’t be possible being spotted ushering Pogue King JJ Maybank into your bedroom.

You unlock the door, calling out a ‘hello’ to be met with miraculous silence. JJ shuffles in behind you, closing the door for you and whistling quietly. “This place is pretty fancy, yeah… bet you got like, an electric toothbrush n’shit.” He comments, neck craning to look around as he follows you slowly through the house.

You huff a laugh out your nose, cheeks pressing upwards as you stroll through toward the kitchen. “An electric toothbrush?” You question.

“Yeaaah man, kook shit.” He peers nosily at the calendar, eyeing the events your family have coming up.

You spot a note pinned to the fridge and head towards it, shaking your head. “If I was a kook I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant getting coffee poured down me. Are electric toothbrushes the pinnacle of wealth in your eyes?” You laugh quietly, pulling the note off the fridge.

“Dude in eighth grade I lost my toothbrush and for a year all I had was my finger, some toothpaste and a dream.” He chats, appearing directly behind you and plucking the note from your hand. “Out ‘til late, pizza in fridge.” He reads blankly out loud and you take it back from him, tossing it aside.

“How’d you lose a toothbrush?” You chuckle, leading him out the kitchen.

“I be in situations.” He shrugs, following you to the short flight of stairs. To his core, JJ was truly just a guy— and took very little pride in watching you climb a few steps before he joined you so that he could check out your ass.

“Bet your dentist loved you.” You comment, glancing behind you at him making his eyes snap upwards guilty. He scoffs, wiping his hands on his pants like he was worried about dirtying up your house before grasping onto the bannister, skipping a few steps to hop up.

“Yeah, like I could afford one of those.”

On the landing, you point him towards the hallway, stepping back once you realised you were practically standing on top of him. He didn’t seem to notice, or mind, staring down at you for direction. “My rooms the last door on the right. I’m gonna go toss your shirt in the dryer, ‘kay?”

He nods once, strolling in the direction you pointed him. “Yes ma’am.”

You head to the laundry room and take a moment to collect yourself, sniffing his shirt to make sure it was properly clean before stuffing it into the dryer to turn it on. You lean against its circular door as it starts up, taking a breath before realising you left JJ Maybank alone in your bedroom.

You arrive at the door to your girly haven, immediately yanking a pair of panties off the ground and throwing them into a corner as you spot the blonde by the window, curiously looking around.

“So this is where the magic happens, I assume.” He glances at you, swiping his hat off his head and placing it on your dresser. Something about his gaze and the way it continually flickered to you, waiting for an answer suggested it was a genuine question. He was asking if you were seeing anyone, perhaps. You giggle.

“And if by magic you mean napping after work and reading books, yeah. It gets so magical in here, you wouldn’t believe it.” You sit on your bed, watching him semi-awkwardly pace infront of you, running hands through his hair before stuffing them into his pockets.

“Ah yeah, ha— forgot you were a real good girl. Should stay that way, I like it— and I mean like, there’s hella weirdos round here. Y’know? Better to… steer clear.” He rambles as you watch him with a smile. At work, the blonde seemed more calm, in his element— but here, in your terrain— he seemed slightly more on edge. You tried not to read into it.

Your stomach warms at the ‘good girl’ comment, lashes fluttering only a little before he’s distracted once more. You see him gazing ahead at the shelf above your vanity, opposite the bed where all your baby photos were lined up. His smile grows, and you see the cogs turn in his head.

He strides towards it in an instant, taking the framed image off the shelf. You jump up, following him to try and save yourself the embarrassment of whatever he was looking at but it was too late. He grins, turning his head to look down at you. “Oh wow, now don’t tell me this is you?” He holds the photo up beside your head, glancing theatrically between the two to compare and you bat him away.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re nosy?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. That, that is adorable though.” He’s immediately distracted by another photo, setting the one in his hand down to pick it up. “And who’s this?” He lifts the picture of your mother holding you as a baby.

“My mother.”

“Total fox. As expected.”

“Okay, no more for you.” You hide your amusement well, reaching out for the photo and grabbing it. He puts up little fight, letting you snatch the frame from his larger hand as he reaches for another, making a total mess of your embarrassing nostalgia display. This last picture is of you, around 5 years old— adorned in a pink princess dress and a plastic tiara, grinning at the camera.

“Aw.” He smirks, turning his body to face you. “Guess some things never change. Still a pretty princess.” You’re not sure if he’s mocking you now, because he’s tonguing at the cut on his lip which makes you gain a second heartbeat in your panties and you freeze up— which in itself is more embarrassing that this whole ordeal. He was a tease by nature he’ll admit, but this — this was fun. Seeing you get flustered was his new favourite thing.

You give him the exact reaction he’s after, failing to hide your smile as you lurch for the frame. He hides it behind his back and you stumble into him, stabilising yourself with both hands on his chest. He’s all… warm, and firm.

There’s a silence, but things are never quiet for too long with JJ. Thankfully.

“Damn, if you wanted to touch me up you could’a just asked. Pro’lly would’a said yes.” The smirk is yet to fade, infact you think it’s permanently stamped onto his mouth and your eyes widen just a smidge— scrambling for a witty comeback that didn’t make you look like a perverse idiot.

“I dunno, after you made fun of my baby pictures? Think I owe you two black eyes.” You tilt your head sweetly, proud of the response and his eyes flicker over your expression, eyes softening just a tad. Or maybe you imagined it.

“‘Think that’s a little extreme. How ‘bout a kiss instead?” You freeze, because it’s then you realise how close the two of you are still. Hes practically got you caged against your vanity, can probably hear how fast he’s got your heart beating— maybe smell the pathetic dribble of arousal seeping into your underwear just from being this close to him. You can’t tell if he’s kidding, and it seems he even caught himself a little off guard, blinking a few times during your stunned silence.

But then you look at his mouth, because asking a question like that is totally giving you permission to do so, and he takes that as an answer and leans in.

You’re so hypnotised when his mouth starts moving against yours that you nearly jump out of your skin when his large hands bracket your waist, pulling your body more flush against his. JJ was a good kisser, which lead you to indeed that he was infact— a whore. Well, maybe a former whore. Whatever, in that moment it didn’t matter— nothing mattered, just JJ and his tongue that was sliding against yours as the kiss heated up.

It feels like hours that your tongues are looping round eachother, snapped out the moment by the hungry blondes hands sliding down, your waist in his grip becomes suddenly your ass cheeks through your shorts, squeezing and pulling you against him practically lifting your entire body. It’s then you realise you having a working voice box, because you let out the most pathetic mewl you’ve ever heard yourself make. Even more pathetic than the noises you made only a few nights ago from your own hand.

He groans back almost as like a response, and with that — finally, he manoeuvres you to start walking backwards towards the very bed you fell apart on at the thought of what you were currently doing, or about to do. Your lips detach when the backs of your knees hit the bed, falling to sit down at the edge of it with a few bounces. He stares down at you for a couple of seconds, disorientated and sore-mouthed like even he can’t believe what’s happening— before he jumps into action. Jittery and clumsily like he always is.

“Should probably uh— if we’re gonna get on the bed I don’t wanna— poke you with somethin’” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, unloading them. His phone, his keys, earphones, cigarettes, wallet, other random knickknacks that would otherwise make you raise an eyebrow if you weren’t already so dazed by him. He’s about to return to you, before his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, as if he just remembered something — and he reaches into the back of his pants, pulling up the shirt that hung over his waistband to there retrieve his gun. He holds it up with a smile that said ‘How silly of me!’

You gape. “JJ, why do you have that?”

He shuffles some things around on your vanity, scrambling to make space for the piece. “Uh, had to bring it home today… lemme just… set that down there.” He places it next to your jewellery stand, the contrast in the items almost making you laugh in disbelief. “The old problem solver.” He mutters, giving it a fond pat before turning back to you, happy to carry on.

“What if my parents were to come home and see that?” You challenge with a pout, not too keen about him bringing a weapon into your house. He huffs out a smirk, leaning back down to where you’re sat, hands on your shoulders as he slowly lays you down.

“Think they’d be a little more concerned about the dirty pogue on top of their little girl, but y’know…” His words get lower and lazier as he draws in before locking his lips onto yours again, this time wasting no time with introducing his tongue.

You’re back in the zone, gun long forgotten within seconds— running your hands through his hair, over his strong arms, touching everywhere you’ve wanted to touch since you started working at the restaurant. Well, not everywhere.

He’s not holding back on being handsy either, body slotted between your legs after he lifts you further up the bed, grappling at your thighs, hips, and eventually tits. You can’t blame him, there’s desperation behind both of your actions — the fact you’d both wanted this for a while now slowly becoming clear. Your heart thumps hard at this realisation, suddenly less able to breathe and you pull back panting, breath trembling.

His eyes flicker over your face, watching your wet mouth as you ramble. “Wanted— mmph— wanted this for a while.”

He drags his lips over your cheek, pressing his hips against yours and you can feel him hardening. It does little to help you calm down. “Yeah, same… Is it… uh, is it weird I kinda didn’t want you to wash the shirt before givin’ it back to me?” He smiles, dropping another toothy peck to your mouth as his hands continue feeling you up.

Your eyes flutter closed once more when he softly grinds his bulge against your cunt, your knees tightening against his hips as you let out a silent moan, lips parted.

“H-had to. I slept in it.” You admit before you think, brain focused on other things. He laughs quietly against your jaw, smoothing his tongue over the now bitten skin.

“Aw, you did?” He creates some space between the two of you, his hand very slowly starting to trail down your body, past your stomach. “You got it so bad for me, huh?” He teases and you whine, openly and pathetically— spoiled and childish even. JJ didn’t seem the type to talk about his feelings easily, but teasing you for yours was outright mean.

“Shutup.” Comes with the whine, your breath catching pathetically as you feel the rumble of him slowly unzipping your shorts zipper at your crotch, lips detaching from your jaw for a second to look at what he’s doing, still chuckling.

“Thats rude.” He grins, quiet and lighthearted, elated when you start helping him pull your shorts down and kicking them carelessly off. If he wasn’t so desperate to get his hands on you, he would have taken more time to appreciate your cute little cotton panties with the bow on top. They were so you, exactly the sort he pictured you wearing, moreso pictured you soaking through the way you were now.

His hand slides over the length of your covered cunt, all but cupping you and pushing his fingers over the embarrassing amount of wetness on the fabric. “What else did you do in the shirt, hm? Talk me through it babe.”

He’s teasing you, not truly expecting much of an answer as he genuinely believed a sweet girl like you wouldn’t have the gall to do anything but sleep in his shirt. His lips trail down the centre column of your neck, and it bobs with a harsh swallow. Now, his interest is piqued.

“Can’t say!” You whimper, eyes screwed up, legs spreading wider as he gently thumbs at your clit through the fabric, just enough to stimulate you. You feel him remove his mouth from you, lifting his head into your direct eyeline with an amused raise of the brow.

“Well now sweetheart, you’re just gonna have to tell me.” His fingers tuck into the leg hole of your panties, like he wants to pull it aside but won’t. You realise he’s still watching you, waiting for an answer and that he’s not gonna go further until you speak. “Don’t be shy, tell Papa J what you—”

“Touched myself. I touched myself.” You release all in one breath. Now it’s his turn to ogle you, completely off guard. If he wasn’t hard as a rock before, he certainly was now. Probably leaking in his boxers too from how things felt down there. This was poor performance from him, he thought at the back of his mind. This fucked so early on? Shit, he knew he liked you but c’mon.

He peels your panties to the side and you squeak, the boy making no effort to touch you still— just letting the cool air of your room grace your glossy folds.

“And why would you do something like that, baby?” He noses at your cheek, trying to get you to open your eyes. You squeeze them harder before fluttering them open, so hot in the face and embarrassed when you find his gaze you think you might just die.

“Because I like you.” You whisper. It’s sweet, just like he thought you’d be when the time comes. He smiles, dimple deepening as his free hand cups your cheek.

“Because you like me.” He repeats in affirmation. It’s a little smug, he’ll admit — but having his dream girl beneath him had his ego on ten, what can he say. He slides two fingers through your wetness, dragging what he collected up your clit and circling it making you arch your back. “Gotta say, the feelings definitely mutual.”

He kisses you again, and this time it feels like something else. Like a confession, a proposal of some sort. It’s passionate, overwhelming in the best way, intimate — as his fingers start to move, stroking your clit and making your legs tremble in adrenaline.

As you writhe and moan beneath him, his lips swallowing as many as he can, unable to stay away— his other hand starts to slide up your work shirt. You wished you’d been wearing something sexier the first time the two of you got it on, but clearly it sort of did something for him.

If the speed at which he located and stimulated your clit wasn’t enough to convince you that the boy definitely had experience, it would be the way his hand slides around to your back, unhooking your bra singlehandedly. You can’t help but giggle through your whimpers and you’re not sure why, but he smiles too— murmuring “Party trick.” against your mouth. The smile is wiped from your face when his digit glides around your hole, as if lapping up all the wetness and then pushing in�� all the way to the knuckle.

You moan and tense up a little, it’s been a while and your own fingers were definitely smaller than his. At your reaction. he pulls back only slightly— a look of concern poorly masked on his face.

“Are you… have you uh, been with a guy before? Or is this…”

“One guy, a while back. Not good at all.” You sigh and he nods patiently, lips twitching up when he starts to move his finger and your eyes flutter involuntarily. “Think I can work with that.”

He twists his wrist a little, working you with just one finger as he paws at your free’d tit, sucking on your tongue. You moan, the sound of your own wetness having its own presence in the room and he hums, pulling back to look down at the way you’re sucking his middle finger in.

“So pretty, you’ve been holdin’ out on me baby. Should be a crime to hide this cute little pussy, damn.” He whispers and you whine in preemptive embarrassment to the way you clench around him, making him chuckle again. “Oh yeah? She liked that, huh?”

“More, please—” You nearly choke on your own swallow as you lift your head, looking down at the way he’s got you spread out. Reaching downwards you gently tug at his wrist, not quite sure of the aim. “N—‘nother one.” You pant. Jeez, already totally fucked dumb and he hasn’t even made you cum. You were going to give JJ Maybank an even bigger head.

He doesn’t say anything, just sinks two fingers into your cunt and you make a noise he’s only heard in amateur porn videos from Twitter, dick usually nestled in his fist. He presses his lips together in a quiet ‘Mhm’ and your hands are back on him, desperate once more to consume him wholly.

Your nails rake through his hair as he finds his rhythm, tonguing at the cut on his lip with wide observant eyes that flicker between your face and your cunt. “Look at you go.” He responds to a moan— but JJ being JJ knows he can do better, which is why he stops thumbing at your nipple and pushes his hand into the bed instead, using the weight on his arm to start sliding down your body.

The first kiss against your stomach catches you off guard, and if you weren’t so dizzy from pleasure you might wanna think about it more. He repositions his hand, stroking your inner thigh as he pushes them wider apart and shushes you, now face to face with your glistening pussy. His fingers slow their movements for a moment.

“She’s real pretty.” His fingers slide out so he can make messy doing of spreading your folds with his fingers, licking his already wet lips.

“Thank you.” You mewl happily, eyes watery as they gaze down at him like he hung the moon and stars for you.

“You’re so sweet.” He smiles genuinely and fairly innocently up at you as he strokes your thigh affectionately— before of course counteracting that by shooting out a thick bubbling glob of spit directly onto your clit, making your jaw drop. Lifting your thighs, he murmurs. “So sweet you get me hard. S’kinda unfair… at work.” Before he chases the spit with the flat of his tongue, bringing the muscle up to then wrap his lips around your clit and suck.

No noise can leave you for a few seconds, brows furrowed and jaw dropped in a silent moan until he forces the noise out of you by stuffing his fingers back inside your weeping hole.

“Oh— oh, JJ!” Your toes curl and in record time you feel your first orgasm approaching. It’s different from the ones you give yourself, it’s a ball of fire in your stomach and heat licking up your spine, eyes even watering at the exertion.

“Yeah say my name, c’mon.” He coaches you, moving his tongue faster like he’s competing with himself to make you cum.

“JJ, mmpph— feels— it feels—” You nearly sob.

“How’s it feel?”

“M’gonna—”

“Cum, babydoll. I got you.”

White noise. Like, almost the sounds of waves crashing. It doesn’t really feel like you’re a person anymore — but one thing is for certain. You have never cum like that in your life. You must of been on autopilot, moaning and whining pathetically, slurring out nonsense and maybe a twisted version of his name— but when you come back to Earth you’re near hyperventilating.

You slap at his shoulders with shaky hands because his lips are still latched onto your pulsing nub, fingers still squelching and working the release out of you. “Ok—okay, Jayj— please!” You let out a pathetic little cry and he eases up, pushing himself off you with a satisfied hum and grinning cheekily, letting you push out his fingers. You suck in shaky breaths, letting him soak in the moment by bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them off.

“Better than anything I make, can tell you that.” He jokes. “Taste that shit, s’fuckin’ delicious.” He eases his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck off the remains with a humiliated mewl before removing them, leaning over you to kiss you. God, it’s embarrassing how much you soaked his face. Really, how it ended up on his forehead— you wasn’t sure. You were too focused on your own taste he was forcing into your mouth with his tongue, purposeful and cocky, making sure to roll his own wet muscle over your tastebuds so that you never forget who made you cum that hard.

It’s then, and only then he realises you’re freaking a little and lets you off for a break, cupping your cheek as he pulls back. “Are you good?” He chuckles and you inhale deeply, still trembling. You’re not sure what he does, because everything’s all hazy but he manhandles you a little until he’s cradling you in strong biceps, brow creased. “Did I go too hard? I may— may have gotten a lil’ carried away there. My apologies.” He holds up a hand that wasn’t cradling you.

“Was just— haven’t — it’s never felt like that before. Never felt that good.” You admit, which brings back his dimple and that sickeningly soft look in his eyes.

“What can I say, you deserve the best there is when it comes to receiving orgasms, and I,” He presses his mouth back on yours, kissing you between each word. “Am the best, there, is, at, giving them.” On the last kiss you lean into it, holding him there, as you’re ambushed by an unexpected feeling.

Some kind of surge in your stomach, like butterflies but bigger, your heart pounding. If you weren’t so dazed you’d be worried the L word was coming to doom you early. The feeling made you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him back ontop of you, jean clad bulge pressed back against your sensitive heat as you moan, high pitched and happy against him.

He pulls back to make some kind of joke, maybe a comment about your recovery time but you beat him to the chase, staring up into his dilated pupils with love hearts occupying your own. “Wanna make you feel good, Jayj.”

“You—how—”

You suckle on your bottom lip, hand bravely travelling down to cup the bulge that was calling to attention in his jeans. His breath catches in his throat, lips parting to let out a quiet and surprised groan.

“I’ve never—” Your face is hot again. “Never given a blow job before but—”

“Next time. Yeah? If you’ll let me I kinda just… wanna fuck you.” He smirks and hides it in your jawline, almost too shy in the moment to look you in the eye. Your brows furrow with a silent whimper at his words.

“Next time?” You mewl happily like you’re floating on air. At this he pulls back, a hopeful grin.

“If you’ll have me, that is. Figured I should take you out on a real date.”

You don’t have time to respond, he doesn’t let you— perhaps out of nerves. Instead, he’s working your panties that had been pushed to the side down your legs, followed by pulling your tshirt over your head. “Peekaboo, there she is.” He smiles quietly and you giggle, thinking back to the time at the locker where he pulled his shirt over your head. You toss your loose bra away from the bed, now laying bare beneath him.

He sits back on his knees, hands instinctually lifting to his head like he wanted to fix his hat, a habit you noticed of his that would occur when he’s overwhelmed or in awe. He settles on running his hands through the blonde tresses instead, big goofy smile on his face.

“Holy shit. I mean like — holy shit.” He breathes and you turn your head shyly, then reaching out to tug at his shirt.

“You too.” You gesture to his shirt and he offs it within a second, not wanting to look away from your naked body from a minute. Once his hands are free again, he’s sliding them up to your chest, greedily massaging your tits in both hands.

“Fuck, you are so fine. I mean like I think I nearly came in my pants.” He admits quietly and you tug at his belt, having to remind him of what you were actually doing.

“C’mon, Jayj— want you to fuck me!” You whine, all doe eyes and pouts, not even registering how pathetic and desperate the sentiment was — only making his cock throb harder. He buckles slightly, like it physically pains him and he nods quickly, fumbling with his belt until he could pull his jeans down just enough to release himself.

It’s long, pink and pretty like you expected — pearly precum gathering at his tip. He grasps it infront of you, eyes flickering between yours and his dick, suddenly looking hesitant. “So uh, this is what m’ working with.” He announces awkwardly, overthinking everything — but it doesn’t matter because you’re wrapping a delicate hand round it, guiding him to your entrance.

“Woah there missy, okay uh— hold your horses. This job don’t pay either of us enough for you to get knocked up.” He side rolls off the bed hobbling over to the dresser for his wallet, retrieving a condom and returning. You would have laughed, but you get all embarrassed and teary eyed about how overly eager you’d been.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’.” You pout and his eyes flutter up to yours, kneeling between your legs.

“Hey? You’re good.” He tears the packet open with his teeth and you clench around nothing. “You’re good.” He repeats, stroking your thigh as he eases the rubber onto his cock. “Still up for it, babe?”

You bite your lip with a sniffly giggle, nodding and he grins himself, laying on top of you to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. He pulls away, and he lines himself up before slowly easing himself in.

Your legs around his waist hug him tighter and your toes curl at the stretch, wincing. “You got it.” He encourages, voice breathier like it teetered on a moan which only made you flutter around him.

“S’big, JJ.” You whimper and he huffs against your neck.

“I— thanks.”

Once he’s in, he’s in — and you can see how his fingers and tongue were only just the appetiser. He fucks like it’s the last time, like his life depends on it— rolling his hips, his hands somehow in ten places at once, his tongue — oh his tongue, it’s in your mouth, then down your neck, then looping around your nipple making you clench and whine and cry.

He starts to speed up, unable to control himself as his hands slide under your lower back to hold you, thumbing at your waist. “Shit, shit, shit.” He grits his teeth, having to contain himself there and then from cumming when he sees the way your tits bounce beneath him. “Takin’ that shit so good, huh? Jesus baby.” He wrinkles his nose in exertion, panting.

“S’just so good, JJ— mmph!”

“Yeah? Y’gonna think of this everytime I see you, shit, everytime I see you in the kitchen? Givin’ me those big sexy fuck me eyes everytime I hand you a plate? Shit baby, pretty little waitress, huh. N’ you’re all mine now. So freakin’ lucky.” Hes rambling, nonsensical— already pussy drunk.

You’re in ecstasy. Not only from how he felt, but from how you were making him feel. It occurred to you that no one seems to talk about the validation you receive from finally getting to fuck your crush, watching them come apart over you. You wanted more, wanted to impress him.

In a trance, you push at his stomach, shuffling upwards so he reluctantly pulls out, concern on his clammy face. You fumble, rolling onto your front, sticking your ass in the air, looking over your shoulder.

“Please.” You plead, and you’re not sure what for— but it works, the blonde puffing out his cheeks with a dramatic exhale, lining himself behind you and pushing in. “Gonna be the death of me, babydoll.”

You may have overestimated your abilities, crying pathetically when he bottoms out, his cock feeling ten times it’s size from this angle.

“Arch that back baby, there you go, just like that.” He whispers, pressing down on your lower back making you sob. You fuck back against him, pressing your cheek to your pillow, fingers curling into it for security. “Good girl, that’s right.” He drops a hand beneath you, finding your clit once more and as a surprise ambush, you cum— suddenly and embarrassingly, gushing around his cock leaving a ring of cream at his base.

He doesn’t stop this time, giving you a moment to catch your breath as you whine and mewl like a distressed kitten. No, if anything — he goes harder, his own release on the precipice. The bed is creaking now, wooden headboard smacking the wall as he leans his weight on the back of your arms, pelvis slapping against your ass. Little squeaks are punched out of you with each thrust, and when you think he’s reached a crescendo— he slows.

“Fuck, fuck turn around baby. Need to see that pretty face to cum, c’mon.” He pants in one breath, fighting you back onto your back and sliding back in with ease this time, pushing one knee up to your chest and rolling his hips, eyes squeezed shut.

He tries to keep them open, eyes everywhere— your tits, your big wet eyes, your lips. Like he can’t help himself, he sloppily cups your cheek, a thumb brushing your bottom lip. Wanting to help him along in your post orgasm brain-fog, your tongue peeks out, trying to catch the finger as he bounces you on his cock. Once you’ve got it, you wrap your lips around it, sucking with devotion and love hearts in your eyes.

“Oh my— god” He whimpers, finally dropping his cheek to your chest as he ruts into you, spilling his seed. You moan at the feeling, scratching at his back and fluttering around him. The butterflies return.

After ten minutes, you’re laying on his thick bicep— his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp at the bottom of your skull. The dryer beeps distantly, signifying that it’s completed its cycle.

Maybank is staring at you, like he’s trying to memorise your face, like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. An amused smile breaks out onto your face, trying to hide it in his arm as you press a kiss there. At this, a grin spreads on his own face, questioning.

“You know… I do actually have an electric toothbrush.”

“I freaking knew it.”

#linecook!jj #jj maybank fic 🎀

1K notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 4 months

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omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

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flangore · 4 months

Text

❥ she loves me like a dog

feat.: Valentino & Vox/f!reader

summary: You try and run away from Valentino. It's an entirely stupid idea and backfires spectacularly.

warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, punishments, manipulation, Valentino and Vox are their own warnings, guns, object insertion

Every demon in Hell, especially ones who had spent quite some time in the V's part of Pentagram City, knew that there was no escaping Valentino's grasp.

With connections that spread like spiderwebs through every part of town, there was nowhere to be safe, nowhere to hide, given how Vox's eyes reached every street, every alley, a phone or a security camera always in each and every corner.

There was nowhere to hide — except for at the Hazbin Hotel, apparently under the protection of the Radio Demon. You had heard Vox whine and bitch about it at one point, anger dripping off his voice, and, despite knowing better, your heart had lept with hope. Days after, you had tried your hardest to ignore each of the silly ideas making themselves at home in your mind; had attempted to not think of running away, of a better life.

And yet, in the end, you hadn't been able to resist temptation.

Every demon in Hell knew that there was no escaping Valentino's grasp.

That was why you had only yourself to blame for the consequences now that he had caught ahold of you once more, the contract, signed with both of your names, floating next to your face in silent mockery.

Tears brimmed in your eyes; your heart threatened to drop out of your chest with how erratically it was beating.

“I'm kinda disappointed, baby”, Valentino drawled, accent coming through thickly, betraying his calm and collected act. A claw, painted golden, hooked underneath your chin, tilting it upwards until your neck ached, your height difference only adding to the unease curling in your stomach. “Tell me, why did you do feel the need to run away like that?”

Your throat felt tight.

“Come on, you can trust me. Trust us.”

The chains, made of red smoke and currently wound tightly enough to leave marks around your wrists and ankles, really did not make you feel like you were able to trust him. Neither did Vox's presence. Admittedly, he had always unnerved you even more than Valentino had, though, right now, his smirk was downright terrifying.

“Was it the working conditions?” Vox crooned, tone lathered with contempt, with amusement. “Were you unhappy with your job? Do tell us. We're always open to criticism, really.”

There was no explanation that could have excused your actions.

Valentino's smirk widened. “Yeah, babe. What was the issue? I mean, you really can't quit, not with our contract, so what was the purpose of trying to run away?”

“I remember just how grateful you were when Val offered you this opportunity years ago. Do you suddenly think you're too good for us?”

Those words, leaving Vox's mouth so easily, finally dragged you far enough back into reality for you to get a noise out, high-pitched and terrified.

“No”, you choked out, quickly shaking your head, panic making you tremble. “No, that's not—”

“No? Then tell us the reason, mi amor.”

You were pretty certain you were in the middle of a panic attack, lungs feeling too small to take any oxygen in. Not that it mattered right now. “I don't know, I wasn't thinking—”

“That's such a shame. If you at least had an explanation, we could go easy on you.” Vox clicked his tongue, not looking like it was a shame at all. “Val, will you do the honours?”

“Already on it, babe.”

With how large of a being Valentino was, it was all too easy to forget just how quickly he was able to move. Pain bloomed on your cheek, your head spinning, and it took quite a moment for you to realise that he had hit you with the hilt of his gun, custom-made.

In the back of your mind, you wondered whether the rhinestones on it had left indents on your skin.

A metallic taste spread in your mouth. “Please—”

“It's a little late to beg”, Vox remarked.

Valentino's smile was all teeth, unkind in nature. “But it's fine, sweetheart, don't worry. I won't fire you.” His hand cupped your aching cheek, then grabbed ahold of your hair, yanking your head back painfully. “You'll be with us forever. Aren't you grateful? We just have to teach you a lesson. Can't have the bitches acting up, now can we?”

You really had no choice but to nod, tears dripping down your face, surely smearing your makeup, though that was the least of your worries as, suddenly, your bonds shifted, chains pulling taut, changing your position until your legs were wrenched apart.

Panties were rarely part of your work clothing, but being fully bare in front of them right now made bile rise up in your throat.

“See, I wanted to fuck you, remind you who you belong to”, Valentino commented, sounding terribly nonchalant. The muzzle of his gun pressed against the soft skin of your inner thigh, the metal cold. “But Voxxy had better ideas.”

Your heart must have stopped at one point, you were certain of it. This must have been a fever dream, a hallucination.

Despite the panicked thoughts running through your scrambled mind, you didn't protest; had no time to, either. Not that it would have been any use.

Before you knew it, Valentino pushed the gun into you, dry, fuck—, the pain making you cry out, voice high-pitched. Unceremoniously, he shoved it further inside, unrelenting until the hilt of it rested against the lips of your cunt, your whole body tense with agony.

“There we go.” Your eyes flickered over to Vox, the way he was palming himself through his trousers obvious even with your blurry sight. “That's hot. Hah—, look, she's even wet.”

At this point, you hardly noticed that you were screaming, throat aching, the thoughts of running away by now merely an unrealistic fantasy, silly, like the wishes of a spoiled child.

You were, in fact, not wet; instead, blood was easing the glide at least a little, albeit it hardly offered any relief.

You must've torn somewhere. Placing the pain seemed to be an impossible task when simply everything hurt.

At least it wasn't going to get worse from here on — it couldn't possibly.

Valentino just loved to prove you wrong.

“Hey, you think we can fit a dick in there at the same time?”

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rissouu · 4 months

Text

EARS PIERCED, connie springer.

he can’t handle it when his daughter gets her ears pierced.

“i’m not turning the car around, connie..” you let out a sigh of relief when you finally reached the claire’s. connie had been begging you the whole drive to just go back home and forget this ear piercing shit.

but you couldn’t just let it go, every girl needed their ears pierced at some point. your mom got yours done when you were little so you wanted to stick with the tradition and do the same for your little baby… connie wasn’t going for it though.

“man what do she need her ears pierced for? she just turned one!” he decided to sit in the back with his daughter like he always did. the man took one glance at her in the car seat with sad eyes.. his poor baby had no idea what was coming.

“cause she’s a girl connie. and ear piercings barely hurt i promise, i got mine at this age too!” you tried reassuring him but he still wasn’t going for it. you knew he’d probably be salty for a while but oh well, he’ll get over it soon.

once you parked the car connie mentally prepared himself for disaster, if anything he acted like he was the one getting his ears pierced. he couldn’t stop the anxiety he felt when you opened the door to get the baby out.. he had half a mind to slam the door shut and lock it so you wouldn’t get in, but he knew better.

“baby come on or we’re gonna be late to the appointment,” you gently pulled him out of the car by his sleeve and he was damn near ready to throw a tantrum. your daughter didn’t need her ear pierced but you’d rather have it done now than when she’s older.

it just made more sense, plus you’ve had your ears pierced since you were 2— and never in all your years have you had to get another one.

originally, you were supposed to be the one in the chair holding your daughter. but connie again, wasn’t going for it. he at least wanted to hold his daughter just in case anything went wrong, which is what he was expecting.

you watched the piercer mark your daughters ears, and you couldn’t help the worry sinking in— honestly you were scared too. looking at your daughter smile and giggle in her fathers arms without a care in the world.. it made you feel horrible.

she had no idea what was coming and you just hoped she wouldn’t be too mad at you afterwards.

“okay dad im gonna have you hold her tightly okay? she can’t move or else the piercings won’t be accurate to each other!” connie followed ever procedure possible because he’d do anything to just hurry and get this over with. his heart was already pounding in his chest during the whole car ride, and now it was even worse.

without warning, the worker aligned the piercing gun to your daughters ear and shoved the needle in. (she actually went as gently as she could, but to you and connie it still wasn’t gentle enough.)

the young girl’s face immediately fell into a frown, her previous mood of happiness quickly faded into sorrow. she let out a heart wrenching cry— so intense that her little body started shaking, and that was the last straw for connie.

you couldn’t lie, your heart ached hearing her scream like this. out of all the times she’s cried, it’s never been this intense nor has she ever started shaking because of it.

“no, she’s done. you see she’s over here hollering right?” connie mugged the piercer when she tried to do the other ear, he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

“constance stop it! let her do the other ear really quick, it’s her job.” soon enough your husband was mugging you as well, which you quickly returned. you didn’t know why he was acting like you were some evil witch just for wanting your daughters ears pierced?

you waved at the piercer— letting her know it was okay to continue, which she did. the second one didn’t hurt your daughter as bad since she was still stuck on the last one’s pain.

her cries only got louder but now it was more of forced out whines than actual tears. you rolled your eyes at that since it was a habit of hers, forcing herself to continue crying. deep down you knew she got that trait from you but you’d never admit it.

“anddd we’re all done! you did so good hun here, have a sticker.” she placed a yellow smiley face right on your daughters hand, and that was enough to make the young girl feel better.

connie though, he was still salty as hell. he hadn’t said a word to you yet, he just kept staring at the new earrings in his daughter’s ears. yeah, they were cute but fucking useless. like he said before, she could’ve gone without them.

“let me see her pa,” you held your arms out expecting him to give her to you, but instead he did the opposite.

“nah we’re mad at you right now. you on punishment, bye.” he gave you a blank stare and to your surprise your daughter did the same thing. she may not have been that old but she was old enough to know you put her through all that pain.

the tiny girl looked you up and down before rolling her eyes and turning her back on you to lean on her father’s chest. your jaw dropped as you watched connie let out a little chuckle and high five his daughter.

“tuh, okay then little girl ima remember that when you want some milk. i don’t like y’all!”

©rissouu 2024 (it’s been a while yall im sorry, i just had no ideas.. but i hope you enjoyed! more dad!connie to come probably.)

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joelslastofus · 5 months

Text

[SUMMARY: Joel takes your virginity without knowing it’s your first time and gets a little too rough.]

Smut, big age difference

“I was rough with you. I wouldn’t have just shoved myself in you so damn selfishly had I known it would hurt you.”

It had been a month since you met Joel and Ellie and began staying with them at a cabin. Ellie and you both got along great but Joel didn’t seem to like having you around.

Ellie sat at the table eating food you had made while Joel unexpectedly grabbed his shot gun and made his way to the door.

“Where are you going?” You asked confused.

“Check the perimeter” he responded without looking up at you.

“I can help-“

“No, you’re staying inside” his response was cold as usual.

“Joel, I know how to use a gun. I’m not a little girl” you argued before turning away, his eyes quickly taking a glance of your backside with the corner of his eye. Joel knew you weren’t no little girl, regardless of the age difference you had with him he knew that you were a grown woman. A grown woman he was attracted to.

Hell, it was the whole reason the man couldnt bare keeping himself around you. It had been years since Joel felt an attraction with a woman like this. But Joel had never been with someone so young and he knew his mind wasn’t the best for you. He didn’t know too much about you but one thing he did notice was there was an innocence to you he didn’t have. He felt it was better to keep his distance. In his mind, Joel didn’t want to ruin you.

“You’re just gonna have to listen to what I say” Joel finally responded low as he grabbed his belongings and left the front door.

Ellie watched curiously as you frustratedly threw your spoon and followed him out.

“What the hell is your issue with me?” Your voice making him turn to find you with a hand on your hip, God it took everything in him to control where his eyes looked.

“Get inside” was all he could say.

“You know, you treat me so unfairly since I’ve been here. I’m twenty two years old not some twelve year old-“

“I ain’t gonna tell you again” he cut you off turning away from you. Angrily you walked off slamming the door shut giving up at this point.

A while had gone by and Ellie went up the stairs to sleep at the top open floor. You watched from downstairs as she got under the covers and within a few minutes she was asleep.

It was getting late and you wondered where the hell Joel was just as he suddenly opened the door and walked in. He froze at the sight of you by the couch noticing you were wearing his flannel button shirt big enough to stop right above your knees.

“What the hell are you wearing?” His heart racing at the sight before him, all you were doing was making this harder for him to ignore.

“Ellie gave me this, I put my clothes to wash earlier,“ as you spoke he dropped his stuff to the floor without taking his eyes off you, making his way closer to you.

“I’m-I’m sorry” you began to speak nervously as he got closer, towering over you.

“I had nothing else” you continued to explain when he wrapped his arm around your waist and abruptly pulled you against him. You gasped, confused yet intrigued as he brushed his hand against the side of your neck, digging beneath your hair. He looked at you for a moment knowing damn well he was completely giving in and pulled your neck towards him kissing you, taking you by complete shock. You quickly wrapped your arms around him as he began to guide you to the couch behind you, both of you falling onto it as he placed himself between your legs.

He moved quickly which actually excited you, his body was so big next to yours his legs hung off the side of the couch. He seemed like he was in a trance, not saying a word he reached between your bodies and unbuckled his pants pulling them down far enough to expose his erect cock. The man hadn’t even taken off his jacket and he didn’t care. His breathing was heavy now reaching between your legs to pull aside the thin layer of fabric of your underwear. You were a virgin and hadn’t told him a thing, hell you didn’t want to and that’s when you felt the tip of him pressing against your entrance before he thrusted his hips and fully entered you abruptly. You whimpered grabbing onto his jacket, he leaned his face in the crook of your neck as he thrusted again making you wince. You knew sex would hurt but you never knew it would feel like this. A rough sound escaping his lips, Joel felt how tight you were but couldn’t stop himself from plunging into you again and again. Lifting his head up to look down at you he noticed a distinct look in your eyes that he couldn’t make out. Shock? Confusion? The last thing you wanted him to suspect in this moment was that he had just taken your virginity…painfully, and so you tugged at his jacket pulling him in close for a kiss.

Joel dug his hand into your hair pulling at it hard before he thrusted again making you gasp. Each stroke a little less painful than the last and before you knew it, it slowly started to feel good. From the moment he met you, Joel couldn’t stop thinking about having you, feeling you, touching you, he fought it off the best he could. But here he was, on top of you burying himself inside you and you didn’t want him to stop. Feeling you grab onto him with each movement he made only aroused him more when an unexpected moan escaped your lips loudly. Surprising yourself Joel quickly placed his had on your mouth, thrusting deeper feeling you pulsate around him. Remembering that Ellie was asleep right upstairs he kept his hand on your mouth as he began to move faster. Your legs wrapping tightly around him wanting to feel him closer than ever. His eyes locking with yours as you felt a sensation you had never felt before, he watched your eyes roll back and your body shake beneath him. A muffled moan as he squeezed his hand tighter over your lips.

“Shhh” he whispered still moving his body fast against yours. You nodded panting beneath him as he released his hand from your mouth with only one stroke left in him, he quickly got on his knees and came on your inner thigh. Never had you seen a man cum before, watching as he leaned his head back squeezing his eyes shut, more cum spilling out of him. It took everything in him not to make a sound. He sat back on the couch next to your legs trying to catch his breath before grabbing a rag close by and silently passing it to you.

“Thank you” you whispered as he cleaned himself up and quickly got up. Buckling his pants you watched as he walked to the door, you furrowed your brows confused trying to quickly put yourself together when he just walked out.

Knowing Ellie was asleep upstairs, you didn’t bother calling out for him but quickly got up wrapping a sweater around your waist.

Joel had his back to you staring out into the dark when you quietly closed the door behind you.

“Are you kidding me? You just walk out?”

He didn’t respond.

“Hello?”

“I shouldn’t have done that” he uttered low without turning to you.

“Ok well you did and….I loved it-“

“Well it ain’t happenin’ again. Drop it”

“Excuse me?” You walked over to him quickly making you feel a soreness between your legs you had never felt.

“Ow” you quickly stopped standing awkwardly in place as Joel looked over at you.

“What’s wrong? I hurt you?” His sudden concern surprising you a bit.

“No. It’s just..I mean-“

“It’s just what?” He asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“That…that was my first time, Joel” you could see the color almost drain from his face.

“Oh Jesus” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me, dammit?!”

“Why are you getting mad?” You asked with confusion.

“You think I would’ve-“ he caught his voice getting loud and took a deep breath.

“You think I would’ve taken you like that on the damn couch if I knew that?”

“So what, I’m fine” you assured him.

“That’s why you were looking at me like that” he remembered the look in your eyes that he couldn’t explain. He remembered how hard he first entered you and cursed at himself. Each stroke pushing deep. It explained why you looked at him so shocked never having felt that before.

“I didn’t even give you a damn chance-“

“A chance for what?”

“I was rough with you. I wouldn’t have just shoved myself in you so damn selfishly had I known it would hurt you.”

“Joel so what? I was the one who didn’t tell you. It felt good after and I never knew I could feel something like that. I can’t explain what I felt, I don’t know what you did but that feeling…” you suddenly looked away almost losing your breath just thinking about how your body shook. Joel watched as you slowly got lost into that moment, your lips parting, hell it was beginning to arouse him all over.

“I don’t know what it was but-“

“I made you cum, darling” his voice completely distracting your thoughts.

“You made me what?”

He slowly walked towards you as you looked up at him innocently. His hand slowly caressing your cheek as his thumb found your bottom lip.

“I made you cum” he slid his finger into your mouth watching as you slowly closed your lips around it when suddenly the sound of the door opening made you both quickly back away from each other to find Ellie coming out.

“Oh man, how long was I asleep for?” Joel quickly turned back towards the woods.

“Not too long” you responded walking back to the house.

“Is there more food left? I’m kinda hungry?” She asked turning back inside with you. You nodded as you let her in front of you before looking back at Joel. You knew he wanted you again, but this time he wanted to take his time with you, he wanted to do it the right way.

Maybe just once more, he thought to himself. Whatever this was you knew it was only the beginning.

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fan fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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sleepingdead96 · 2 months

Text

Prepared for Anything Pt. 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, MasterPost

What was with Danny’s luck and fires? He wondered as he searched a warehouse he’d come across for survivors. He’d been flying home(invisibly of course) when a nearby building had exploded. Flames licked at the grease spattered floor and ate at old crates, but the biggest issue was the smoke. It billowed thickly like the smog that filled Gotham’s skies, and impeded even Danny’s enhanced vision. He could taste the ash in the air. He knew there were people here. He heard someone coughing and the sound of fighting going on ahead.

He forged onward, dashing towards the sounds, and the layers of smoke lessened enough for Danny to see what was taking place.

The first thing he noticed was the scuffle. About a dozen of what were clearly henchmen fired guns and grappled with. . .

Danny sighed.

More vigilantes.

One wore purple and had long, blonde hair. The other wore black with gold accents, and a mask covered her face. Both sides of the fight wore rebreathers.

The second thing Danny noticed was the red vigilante with bandoliers across his chest, bound with chains, and hanging by the ceiling. He hung over a vat of boiling oil that was alit with flames.

. . .

What was this? Some scene from a childrens’ cartoon?

Danny hurried forward, egged on by the lung Red was hacking up, one who very much was not wearing a rebreather.

Danny pointed a finger at the chain suspending the poor vigilante, and shot a small ecto-blast from the tip. The chain broke.

The vigilante screamed as he fell towards the boiling vat and Danny leapt to intercept him mid-air.

“Huu—“ The vigilante huffed at the impact, Danny’s shoes squealing as he landed and skidded to a halt.

The red guy wheezed. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Couldn’t just leave you hanging around, now could I?” Danny grinned.

Tim groaned.

Danny didn’t think the vigilante had room to complain.

Immediately, they were beset by attackers.

“Oop.” Danny dodged a bullet, shifting only the needed inch to avoid it. “Hey! Watch it! I’ve got cargo!”

“Carg—?!” The vigilante tried, only to hack again. He sounded offended. Danny didn’t really care.

A few goons were closing in on them from all sides, and Danny found it highly annoying that they were interfering with his mission to get this damsel in distress outside to fresh air. It wouldn’t take too long to knock ‘em out, but still.

One of the lackeys raised his weapon and Danny prepared to—

Flying in from the left came a foot, clocking the man in the jaw. Danny watched a small and lithe black figure move like she was the manifestation of violent, deadly grace itself. Danny was in awe as she took the man out, gliding and dancing as if it was all she breathed and all she lived. Her movements were efficient and so quick, Danny could barely catch the motions taking out the next three men after. She tore through them like they were nothing. They fell at her feet as if they were insignificant gnats, as if one look was enough from the goddess of death over here to kill them.

She turned to Danny when she’d cleared his immediate attackers, and he stared at her, mouth slightly agape. His heart fluttered.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. . .” Danny muttered mostly to himself. He could watch her do that over and over and over again and never get tired of it. It was captivating.

The black vigilante went still for a moment, her eyes seeming to lock with his through her mask, before motioning for him to flee.

“Right.” Danny dashed past her, lugging the red one in a bridal carry. A fireman’s carry would probably be hard on his lungs.

“Wh—at w—s tha—t?!” The red one coughed up. Danny couldn’t tell if he was laughing at him or judging him. Or both.

“Shush.”

Danny blew through the nearest doors of the warehouse to meet fresh air and sucked in a deep breath. The smoke didn’t bother him, but this was still nice. He distanced himself from the warehouse quickly, worried about wasting time and risking this dude’s life. Or health. Danny had no idea how bad the smoke inhalation was. Pretty bad, he was guessing.

Danny laid him down in some alley. Mechanical whirring announced who had arrived. Danny looked up as the purple and black vigilantes dropped down from the roofs.

Danny’s eyes briefly glanced over Purple to rest on Black.

“Oh, hey. That was quick.”

The purple one shrugged. “We were almost done any—where did that come from?”

Danny uncoiled the tube to the oxygen tank and mask, fixing it over the baffled face of Red.

“Huh?” Danny fiddled with the knob on the tank and Red took deep breaths.

“You just have an oxygen tank on you at all times?” The purple one laughed.

“You don’t?” Danny countered. He tried not to smirk as Purple choked on her laugh.

“I was joking!”

Danny shrugged.

“Good job.” Black complimented and Danny’s heart palpitated. Her voice was so soft and gentle and the most melodious thing he’s ever heard.

“Yeah, thanks, I mean, no problem, just passing by, I'm in burning buildings all the time, wasn't any trouble." Danny rambled as he went back to fumbling with the knobs.

"Wait, what?" Red croaked.

Purple took in a long breath, as if hit with some amazing bit of realization.

Danny abruptly stood where he’d been sitting on the ground next to Red.

“Here. These are for you.” Danny thrust his hand out to Black, holding a bouquet of exotic, beautiful flowers, native to the Infinite Realms, and at least six times the size of his head.

Purple nearly seized back. “What the—?! Where are these things coming from?!”

Danny had received a multitude of bouquets for his coronation and he was suddenly very glad that he’d frozen them in time to decorate his keep with. Jazz had insisted it would brighten up the place.

“Ah, well, you never know when you might need a professionally done, extravagant bouquet of exotic wildflowers to present to your rescuer. You were my knight in shining. . .whatever kinda armour that is. . .”

Purple’s jaw went slack. Black seemed to pause before shrugging lightly and looking away, curling a little into herself as if embarrassed. Her body language said she was still happy, though. She carefully took the bouquet from him.

Danny was gonna die again. The butterflies were going to mutate and burst out of his stomach.

“Oh my gosh! Stop flirting over my dying body!” Red interrupted.

Danny spluttered. “I am not—“

“You totally are!!” Purple cackled as if this was the most entertainment she’s had in weeks.

Danny ignored her. “Anyway, can I have your name?” He asked Black.

“Wait. . .”Purple tried to get herself under control. “You don’t know who we are?”

Danny shrugged. “I’m, uh. . .from outta town.”

“Well, that was kinda obvious.” Red said.

“Orphan.” Black gestured to herself.

Danny paused. He blinked. Alright, that was. . .that was some oddly personal information to go straight to, but okay.

“I’m. . .sorry for your loss.”

Purple guffawed and slapped a hand over her mouth. Red hacked up another lung. He was gonna run out soon.

Black shook ever so subtly with her own laughter and Danny nearly melted.

“No. Name.” She gestured to herself. “Orphan.”

“It’s her vigilante name.” Purple was still laughing.

“Ah. . .yes. . .right.” Danny blushed. “My name’s Danny. It’s nice to meet y'all.” His words implied he spoke to all of them, but he looked only at Orphan.

“Yeah, I’m lucky you were there to grab me. I don’t know how that chain broke.” Red said from where he’d sat up from the ground. Danny’s lips pursed. He honestly kept forgetting about him.

Purple took a steadying breath, warding off the laughter still treading her words. “We should probably get him some medical attention.”

“Psh, I’m fine.”

“I thought you said you were dying?” Danny asked.

“That was like, ten seconds ago, I’m fine now.”

“Yeah, about as fine as a chain smoker with a drinking problem. Have you heard yourself? It’s like you swallowed a sword and gave it a good swishing around down there.” Purple retorted.

Red scoffed.

Danny backed out of the alley, flashing Orphan a smile before disappearing.

<><><><>

“What happened to all your food?!”

Danny came home to Jason(AKA Red Hood. {The wacky ectoplasm kinda made it obvious. Danny was working on that}) peering into his fridge judgementally as if it was an a affront to his person. “I loaded it up just a couple days ago!”

Danny reached past his friend to grab the orange juice and poured himself a glass. He went to sit at the counter. “I ate it all. Duh.”

“There was a week’s worth in there!” Jason gestured indignantly at the empty fridge, staring at Danny.

Danny took a long sip of his juice, keeping eye contact with Jason all the while. When his thirst was parched, he set the cup down with a quiet clink. He leaned his elbows on the counter to hold his face.

“Obviously not, because I ate it all.”

Jason pinched his nose and sighed before letting the fridge door drift closed. He poured the kettle he must’ve boiled earlier into a prepared mug.

Danny stared down at his half-emptied glass. “I think I’m in love.” He murmured thoughtfully into it.

The tea bag bobbing in Jason’s mug paused, before continuing. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Danny sighed, mournfully. He wondered if Orphan would care if he was half-dead or from another dimension. Would he meet her again? He really, really hoped so. “I met her in a burning building.”

“. . .What?”

“Yeah, what an amazing coincidence, right?”

“That’s not—“

“She was so cool.”

“. . .kaaay?”

How did Danny get her attention? He couldn’t just show up wherever she was vigilante-ing, could he? He didn’t want her to feel like he was stalking her.

Danny shuddered and made a face. Ugh. Ew.

No. He needed to find another way.

A small smile wound it’s way over his lips as an idea came to him.

“What’s her name?” Jason asked.

“Umm, you’ve probably heard of her. She said her name was Orphan.”

Jason choked on his tea.

#dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #orphan #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #Red Robin #tim drake wayne #Dimension Travel #dp x dc au #danny phantom #Spoiler

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ssahotchnerr · 8 months

Note

aaron hotch where she gets hurt during a fight with a unsub and she gets really clingy, and everyone at the bau noticed. and when coming in one morning she overhears someone making fun of her to aaron because of it. she hears him laugh and walks away, and begins avoiding him.

turns out it was a fake laugh and he yelled at the guy who was brave enough to make fun of her infront of him. and he didn’t mind her clingy-ness and was glad he made her feel safe.

unwilling to part

cw; fem!reader, no established relationship/mutual pining, officer makes a mildly misogynistic comment and is just an asshole overall, small angst to comfort wc; 1.4k

your injury had been mild - as mild as it could be within your job title. some bumps and bruises, a black eye was most likely in your future. the surprise of the attack had been the worst of it; leaving you spooked, especially when your gun tumbled out of your hand and slid across the floor away from you.

but that's what backup was for, and the situation had been resolved almost as quickly as it started. aaron had heard the fight commence from his position down the hall, the loud clatter of your weapon, and to your rescue just as fast as you could blink, pulling the unsub off you and slamming his front into the nearest wall, forcefully restraining him.

due to the shock numbing your mind and body, the next few minutes were a haze. you vaguely processed aaron crouching beside you, his concerned expression or his hands cupping your face, nor did you hear his repeated question if you were alright.

all you could do was hold onto him, and he let you.

the team and a few officers had crowded around, providing quite the audience. but aaron hadn't seemed to mind; allowing you to cling onto his side until you came back to the real world, your fingers clutching onto his fbi vest. one of his own arms had been around you, escorting you to the medic, to the waiting suv, up to your hotel room. he even relayed the instruction to please call him if you needed him at all throughout the night - he'd be at yours within the second.

the following morning you had been the last one ready, soreness delaying you. your muscles ached as they pulled in every direction - simply getting your shirt on had been a tedious, and painful, task.

the jet was scheduled to leave early afternoon, allowing the morning to be spent at the pd, settling what was needed before returning home.

you could hear ongoing conversation from inside the conference room the bau had been inhabiting the past few days, but before you entered, something in your gut told you to remain put and listen.

you heard aaron first, finishing his thought. "- to be put into evidence, and the rest can be sent over to our technical analyst in quantico."

"gotcha." someone answered, another officer you presumed as the voice wasn't familiar. there was a quick shuffle of papers, a quiet thud of something being put into a box, before he voiced his next thought. "they'll let anyone into the fbi these days, won't they?"

aaron's composed voice followed, "sorry?"

"that agent who got hurt last night." at the mention of yourself, your face immediately burned - his tone not setting up for a positive. "thought you all were 'posed to be tough. with the way she was attached to your hip," he laughed, "fuckin' annoying if you ask me, that was nothing. should've stuck to an desk job if that scared her."

aaron had the heart to chuckle, and your heart dropped right to your stomach, your feet moving to their own accord as you hurried away, not craving to hear more.

tears pinched at your eyes and your body swarmed with heat, full of embarrassment and most prominently, betrayal.

what made it more painful, you could recall on one hand instances where you have heard aaron laugh (a mild exaggeration, but the point still stood) and laughing at you, was now one of them. what also didn't make sense then, the entirety of last night. even as you parted ways at the hotel room, aaron's expression, had been unwilling to part. maybe you read into it wrong, but you could've sworn that's what those brown eyes of his you loved so much indicated.

so for the rest of the day you refused to make eye contact with him, moving swiftly away if he approached, choosing to sit as far away as possible on the jet. even when you all had entered the bullpen, you beelined straight for your desk, eager for the busyness to be your next excuse to avoid contact. but, it was only a matter of time until aaron had trailed down to check on you.

"hey."

you ignored him, acting like the paperwork in front of you was suddenly the most fascinating thing you've ever seen.

aaron's brows furrowed, his question low. he had been quick to notice your clear avoidance earlier in the day, yet another reason why he wanted - needed - to make sure you were okay. "are you alright?"

"yeah, i'm supposed to be, aren't i?" you stated bluntly as you looked up at him, your tone a bit more harsh as you intended.

aaron had the audacity to look perplexed, the confusion in his tone almost convincing if you hadn't known better. "no? someone twice your size blitzed you, disarmed you-"

you slammed your file shut - causing heads to lift and look in your direction. you got up from your seat, not wanting to remain in his presence. "don't bother. i'm better suited for a desk job anyway, right?"

"wait, no." aaron moved in front of you, stopping you from moving forward. he understood immediately, or so he thought. "you heard that?"

"a black eye doesn't affect my hearing, does it?" you snapped, tears brimming your waterline.

aaron sighed deeply, his eyes playing up the shame you're certain he felt. "i'm sorry he-"

you nearly let out a laugh at that, interrupting, "sure. that guy was a ass, but don't you dare apologize for him. what about you?"

aaron's eyes widened in surprise. "me?"

"you laughed." your anger immediately dissolved, hurt filling it's place instead. it was written all over your face, making aaron's heart plummet. "i thought... look, i didn't mean to embarrass you in front of everyone if that's what i did. and i know, in and out of the field we're supposed to be objective and i let my emotions or whatever that was get the best of me. but if i can't do that, then you shouldn't have let me depend on you like... that. despite popular belief, i am tough. i can take rejection."

aaron opened his mouth to respond, but paused, as in his peripheral he noticed all the heads still turned in your shared direction. it was probably best to do this in private. "come with me."

just as last night, his hand found the small of your back, leading you up into his office, closing the door behind him. you went willingly, but remained by the doorway as he walked a bit further inside, your arms crossed.

when aaron turned to you, his eyes were sad, but compassionate.

"i did laugh," more tears burned behind your eyes at his confession, until he provided clarification. "at his idiocy. you sadly missed the good part, i believe it's safe to say he's now highly appreciative of you and the work you've done. check your email, i'm sure a thank you, if it's not already there, will be in your inbox shortly." a small laugh came from his chest. "you can even ask prentiss, she can vouch he left with his tail in between his legs."

your defense dropped, hands falling to your sides in realization. in aaron's character, of course that made more sense.

"oh god i'm sorry," your hands rose to your face, momentarily hiding in humiliation. "i heard... so i thought-"

"exactly, you heard what you heard." aaron's hands grabbed yours gently, pulling them away from your face and allowing you to see his understanding, kind one. "and given what you did hear, i wouldn't expect any less of a reaction. i also would've given me the cold shoulder." a small, closed smile formed on his lips.

"no, i'm so stupid-" aaron shook his head, stopping you halfway.

"you aren't. and despite what we do, you're still only human. you reacted appropriately." his voice softened, rather adorably at that. "i wasn't embarrassed either. i'm glad - honored actually - you can depend on me when you're frightened or need further support. trust me, you can cling onto me all you want." a faint blush tinted his cheekbones. "and i'll never push you away."

his hands squeezed yours, swinging slightly with solid emphasis. the gesture, caused you to just now realize he was still clutching onto them, unwilling to part.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

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rrickgrrimes8 · 1 year

Text

Your Bear

summary: Joel Miller doesn’t just lose Sarah that night but his other daughter too. but maybe you can still be found. (part II)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader -- she/her pronouns used & AFAB

warnings: guns, violence, angst, mentions of death, birth, hurt/comfort, happy ending ;) (kinda), no spoilers for part 2/canon divergent

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open!

word count: 3.2k

Joel Miller was always a good father - no matter what he thought. He cared for his girls more than he cared about anything in his damn life. So when they were both taken from him... there was nothing left to care about.

It was Sarah first.

He held Sarah as she died. His shirt was still stained with her blood. The watch on his wrist shattered by his failure.

But his other daughter, you, looking back he can only imagine the worst.

It all happened so fast. He had Sarah in his arms she gasped for air that was growing distant by the second, while Tommy watched with a pained look.

You, however, no one was watching you. Only 5 years old - you didn’t understand a thing. And so when you heard a loud noise. When you saw your sister go down and hearing the cries of both your father and her you panicked.

You thought you were getting help. That’s what’s your dad always told you to do if something bad happened. “Find the nearest phone or adult. Call me or Tommy or this number, okay? 911. Remember that number babygirl.”

And you did.

You ran as quick as you could, which wasn’t all that impressive but it was fast enough for them not to notice you had gone.

By the time you had found your way back into town, Tommy had noticed. “J-Joel,” His voice wavered, fear taking hold. Tommy searched the clearing, calling your name.

Joel looked away from his limp daughter then. His heart was thumping in his chest. His ribs ached as did the wound on his side but nothing compared to the terror that tore through his whole body.

“W-where is she?” His eyes darted over the area but you were no where to be found.

“No, Tommy,” He sobbed already fearing the worst, “T-tommy not her, please.”

Tommy shuddered. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t real. You were just here. Sarah was just here.

“Joel,” He began until he heard shrill, painfully familiar scream from off in the distance.

“No,” Joel cried looking down at Sarah, hesitating just for a moment before setting her down, “I’m sorry baby.”

Tommy was already running at that point, hoping not to be late, not like he was for Sarah. Joel screamed your name as he sprinted - he couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t lose you, his babygirl.

When he got there he saw Tommy knelt beside a bloodied teddy bear.

Your bear.

He collapsed. Knees giving way. He pulled the bear of the ground, its white fur tormented by the red hue.

Tommy shouted your name a few times. Joel didn’t have the energy to bother. His answer was here.

You were only five. You’d never have survived on your own.

And he would never survive without you, without his girls. He hugged the bear as if it was your body and he never let go.

“Why’d you have a bear in your bag?” Ellie teased as she caught sight of an fluffy ear sticking out.

Joel clenched his jaw, stuffing the teddy back inside. “What?” She laughed innocently, “Is it for your bad dreams? Chase the monsters away?”

The man grunted, discarding the bag on one of the chairs - away from Ellie’s view, “None of your business.”

Ellie frowned as she caught his eye. The brown was darker than usual, which was really saying something. They were empty, hollow but at the same time watery. Like he was one step away from crying. She shook the thought off - this was Joel she was talking about. Joel never cried, not in front of her - not really... She didn’t even think he could cry. But his eyes told her something else. They told an unspoken story. One she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But one, at the same time, she needed to hear.

“Sorry,” She mumbled, moving into the living room of the house Tommy and Maria had given them.

Joel sighed as she did, guilt running through his veins. “Sorry,” He called out, gruffly, stopping her in her escape. Ellie turned back waiting for him to continue. “it was...” He cleared his throat roughly, “The bear was my daughters.”

“Oh,” She whispered, looking up at the man with sympathy, “If i had known it was Sarah’s... i wouldn’t have said anything.”

Joel sucked in a breath, turning towards the cupboards behind him, grabbing a cup. “Wasn’t hers,” He corrected trying not to let his voice catch on the lump forming in his throat.

“What?” Ellie dared a step closer, “But Sarah was... is your daughter.” Joel bit his tongue, forcing himself to face her again. “Joel?”

He let out a watery sigh, eyes set on the ground, “I had... i had another daughter.” He spoke your name softly but with fear. He hadn’t said it in years - he couldn’t. He hadn’t spoken about you in nearly 20 years either. He hated to talk about you. It was hard enough letting Ellie in, letting her know about his past, about Sarah. But it was too hard to say your name. You were only a baby. His baby.

“I didn’t know. You never mentioned her,” Ellie almost felt guilty asking - like this was something she should’ve known. That she should’ve known wasn’t something you just bring up.

“Yeah,” He scrunched his face a little, the feeling of your loss rushing back.

He thought and he believed for a time that if he didn’t talk about you, about the way he failed you then all that hurt would go away. He was wrong. He saw you every night in his dreams. He saw the woman you grew up to become. He saw your smile and heard your laugh. But then he’d wake up alone. He was always alone.

The worst was when the dream felt real. You were a baby again, Sarah was young too. It was just the three of you. You’d be doing something mundane - watching TV, eating dinner, whatever. He’d have conversations with the pair of you, forgetting that none of it was real. He’d hold you to his chest, sing to you, make you laugh. He’d dance with Sarah to their beat up radio in the kitchen. He would watch you take your first steps, say your first words, form your first smile.

But he’d always wake up. He hated waking up.

“How old was she?” She dared to ask.

Shakily he replied, “Five.”

She fell silent after that. Five. Five years old. Joel lost a five year old - no wonder he didn’t want to talk about it, idiot.

Ellie thought for a moment, a question daring to fall from her lips. “But she’s wasn’t on the memorial at Tommy’s.”

Joel’s head snapped up, anger residing in his chest. Who he was mad at he didn’t know. Himself? Tommy? Ellie? You? “Tommy... he,” He huffed, “He doesn’t believe she’s gone. Holds out hope on that fucking plaque - fuckin’ delusional.”

Ellie leant against the countertop, eyes not leaving the man for just a second, “Why would he think that?”

“No body,” His voice was cold all of a sudden as if it meant nothing at all. As if he wasn’t talking about the body of his five year-old.

“But then she could be-“

“Don’t,” He snapped, “Don’t say another word.”

Ellie rolled her eyes but complied. Joel turned back to his cup, filling it with coffee he had just traded for. He didn’t speak until he was finished and even then he wished he hadn’t.

“We heard her scream... And we found-“ He grimaced, gesturing to his bag, “And we found that damn bear.”

“But,” She tried again.

“Ellie-“

“No, seriously, if all you found was a bear she could still be-“

Without another word, Joel stormed past her, ripping the bag open, slamming the bear onto her chest.

Ellie saw it now.

She understood the haunting look in his eyes. She understood the story it told. It was matted, showed its age. What once was white was red now.

All of it.

Not just a patch here and there.

Everywhere.

It reminded her of Joel.

“That look like she could be alive to you?” He shouted.

“Fuck,” She felt sick just looking at it let alone touching it.

“You kept it?” A voice called from behind her.

Joel met his brothers eyes. “‘Course i did,” He spoke defensively.

“Joel,” He simpered. They stared at each other for a while. Almost like they were having a silent conversation.

Until Joel spoke, “It’s all i have of her left.”

And there was nothing else to say.

Years had gone by since they had gotten to Jackson. And things were surprisingly good. Eerily good. It was the type of good that Joel knew deep down wouldn’t last. It was the type of good that only existed before this mess.

Every morning he would wake up here he had a weight on his chest. A feeling that something was going to happen. This was the calm before the storm, he’d remind himself.

He didn’t tell anyone about it. He couldn’t. He’d just sound paranoid.

Him and Ellie were on a run. It was simple - it always was. The people in charge at the commune never liked to overstep - go to far. Never liked to do what Joel craved.

All they had to do was scope out a few cabins that were spotted deep in the woods. Ellie had jumped at the proposition as soon as Tommy had suggested it. She hated being cooped up for so long - Jackson could only give you so much freedom.

And just because Ellie agreed he knew he had to as well. There was no way in hell he’d let her go out risking her life when there was no way he’d be able to save it.

Getting there was the easy part. The horses at Jackson were a godsend. When they got there the place was still. Ellie gave Shimmer a soft pat before joining Joel who was stalking up to the door. He knocked first - not out of curtesy, just to attract any infected that it may hold. Because that’s what they expected. But Joel should’ve known better.

Joel should’ve thought about their biggest threat - people.

They had only cleared two rooms when Joel felt the cold sting of mental on his temple.

Ellie gasped but kept her gun up, eyes trained on the figure that held Joel’s life in their hands. “Put it down,” The voice ordered.

“Like hell I will,” Ellie retorted, finger edging closer to the trigger.

“I said put it down or the old man gets it,” She forced the barrel against his head - so hard he was sure it would bruise.

“Jesus, fuck, okay,” Ellie mumbled, slowly setting her gun on the floor infront of her, “Just let him go?”

The woman laughed, “So you can kill me, yeah, no thanks.”

“We can work this out,” Joel tried, hands raising to show he was unarmed but it only aggravated her more. Her arm wrapped around his neck, making him stumble back into a chokehold.

“Hey!” She yelled at Ellie as she reached for a gun. The teen stopped, taking a few steps back.

“Just put it down. We can work this out,” Joel proposed, gasping as she applied pressure to his neck, “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Bullshit,” She spat, breathing heavily, “What the fuck else are you here for then, huh?”

“Supplies,” Ellie told her, “We’re from a commune-“

“Ellie-“

“We can take you back there - help you. If you just put the gun down.”

“Bullshit,” The woman removed the gun from Joel’s head aiming it now at Ellie, “You’ll kill me the first chance you get.”

Ellie shook her head, going to respond before Joel gripped the woman’s arm flipping her over. She gasped as she forcefully hit the ground, splinters from the wooden floor embedded into her spine.

Her breathing picked up, hand scrambling to get to the gun he had knocked out of her hand but a foot stopped her.

Joel’s boot pressed harshly against her wrist, “Don’t.”

“Christ Joel,” Ellie huffed, “You scared the fuck out of me.” Joel watched her as she reached down to get her discarded gun. Ellie laughed as she caught her breath, “Where the hell did that come from? You’re like 80.”

“Ellie,” He scolded with a strict look.

“Right, sorry,” She chuckled.

“So this is when you kill me then,” The woman heaved, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Joel turned to her then, catching her eyes for the first time. He faltered, boot leaving her wrist as he took a step back.

She was a spitting image of... you.

No.

“Shouldn’t’ve tried to kill us, i guess,” Ellie retorted humourlessly.

“You came into my house,” She shot back.

“This is your house,” Ellie muttered, “Needs some work. Right, contractor?” She shot a look over her shoulder at Joel. The man was pale, breathless. His eyes were trained on his attacker with a foreign look she couldn’t decipher.

“Joel?”

“Name,” He ordered, gun pointed down at her but both of them could see it shake.

“What?” She coughed, struggling to understand the strangers.

“Your name, what is it?” He yelled.

“Jesus,” She almost let herself laugh - she would’ve if she wasn’t so shit scared.

Joel gave her a stern look so she said it. She spoke your name.

Ellie’s lips parted, confusion leaving her face, “Holy shit.”

Joel’s expression crumbled as did the grip on his gun, which now hung loosely at his side. “Last name?” He asked, voice a mere whisper.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Answer.”

“It’s Miller, Christ,” She answered, “What the hell is the matter with you people?”

Joel’s knees felt weak, his breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. You died. You were gone.

“Joel is she-“

“Stand up,” He told you.

Hesitantly you did as he said, struggling slightly as your injuries caught up to you. Seeing this Joel stepped forward, hand outstretched. With an odd look in your eye you took it - ignoring how the mans eyes lingered on it for a second too long.

“Are you alone?” Fearfully you shook your head. “Where?” He ordered.

You shook your head again, “Please don’t- You can’t. I was just trying to protect her.”

“Who?” Ellie spoke up, despite it not feeling like her place to be in this conversation.

“M-my,” You started but a cry interrupted, echoing through the cabin.

You didn’t think for a second before you ran out of the room. Joel cursed as you did, going to rush out after you before Ellie spoke up, “What are we doing here, Joel?”

“I-“ He paused, shaking his head and leaving the room.

“Is it her?” She questioned, following closely behind him, “Is it really her?”

He gave her stern look as he entered the room you escaped into. His eyes blurred as he saw you with a baby to your chest.

“Please don’t,” You held up your free hand, stopping them, “You can’t- not her.”

“Holy fuck,” Ellie gaped, “You have a fucking kid!”

“Ellie!” The baby fussed in your arms, cries escaping despite your comfort.

“Please leave,” You beg, “Just let us go. I know i messed up. I didn’t want to hurt you guys but i- i couldn’t let you find her.”

“It’s okay,” Joel spoke softly, a type of softness you wouldn’t expect a man like him to be capable of. He holstered his gun, carefully and moved his hands where you could see them.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” He told you, “Ellie, put your gun away.” Ellie did as he said.

“So leave,” You pulled your child closer to your chest.

“We can’t do that,” Joel said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s-“

“Ellie, don’t,” He cut her off, turning back to you, “We weren’t lying before. We have a commune - it’s safe. You’ll be safe there. You both will be.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, repeating the same question, “Why?”

“B-because you’ve got a kid,” He lied, “We can’t leave you here to die.”

“I don’t trust you,” You frowned. Joel mirrored your action, looking around the room at the makeshift cot you had constructed. He felt his heart ache when he spotted a blood stain on the carpet in the corner - you had given birth here, alone. You went through that alone.

“Please,” Ellie spoke up, “You won’t survive out here. You need somewhere safe. And maybe you don’t trust us, that’s okay but we’re honest. We want to help you.”

Hesitantly, you nodded after a few minutes, anxiety building in your chest.

Joel’s eyes were still stuck to the bloodied patch and he was reminded again of how he failed you. How he failed Sarah. He thought about that damn bear. The bear that he thought was the last part of you he had. And despite the pain in his chest and the ringing in his ears he was so glad he was wrong.

“What’s her name?” Ellie asked as she took a tentative step forward.

You didn’t flinch, you wanted to but a part of you, a naive, childish part, wanted to believe them. “Sarah,” You returned, pinching your girls cheeks causing her to smile.

Joel’s eyes filled with tears, tears he had been trying to suppress for the past 20 minutes. For the past 20 years.

Sarah. His Sarah. Your Sarah.

Ellie’s eyes snapped to Joel. He almost felt embarrassed, showing this side of him. Showing his weakness.

“She’s beautiful,” He whispered.

You smiled as he spoke, kissing the side of Sarah’s head. “She is,” You kissed her again before whispering - more to her than them, “My babygirl.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #tommy miller x platonic!reader #the last of us #the last of us imagine

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sinner-as-saint · 9 months

Text

stealing hearts

Mob!Bucky x Thief!Reader

Run-through: His mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist.

Themes: thief!reader, mentions of homelessness and parental death, slight angst, mob!bucky, dom!bucky, slight daddy kink, sex toys, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut, fluff, cocky!reader

a/n: more mob!bucky bc i need to write him for my mental health

“Where is he?”

You heard a deep, surprisingly calm male voice ask, followed by multiple footsteps that echoed outside this dark room which resembled a dungeon, or rather a large storage room filled with boxes.

You heard someone correct the man. “Uh, it’s a woman, sir.”

The footsteps stopped for a brief moment, then resumed. The first authoritative voice spoke up again. “She was alone?”

“Yes.”

Silence. More echoing footsteps. “I’ll handle this. Wait here.” Immediately all the other footsteps stopped and only one continued approaching.

A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man walked in. You knew who he was, you’d broken into his home after all. Bucky Barnes. You had seen his face on the news multiple times. He was also easily recognisable because of his metal arm. He was the one most people feared around here. He was the infamous mob boss. Filthy rich, arrogant, merciless. But powerful more than anything.

He took one look at you, tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, and scoffed. The asshole scoffed.

You glared at him. “Spare me whatever dark villainous speech you have planned and just shoot me already.” You hissed, looking away from him.

He was quiet for a second. Then said, “What makes you think I have some dark villainous speech prepared?” His voice was surprisingly softer than how he sounded outside. Smooth, rich voice. The kind that felt like a caress.

You turned to look at him again, still glaring, “All you old, rich bastards are the same. You love to hear yourselves talk.”

He chuckled this time, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked in a slow circle around the chair you were currently tied to. “I’m not that old. Besides, wealthy is the right word here.” He ignored the way you scoffed at his words, and continued, “Also, a thief who hates wealthy people? Very original.”

You sarcastically chuckled this time. “See what I mean? You love to hear yourself talk.”

He stopped right behind you, where you couldn’t see him. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t start racing immediately. Out of your sight, he could have a gun pointed at your head right now and you wouldn’t even know.

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Letting the anticipation build. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking on the ropes didn’t work, you tried that earlier. So you said, “At least have the decency to look me in the eyes while you kill me.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

When you gave him your name, he sighed and said, “Who said I’m gonna kill you?”

Oh?

“Well I can’t imagine you’re gonna let me walk away just like that either.” You’d been observing rich people all your life, you knew how they operated. You knew he would ask for something in return.

“No,” He said, remaining out of your sight. “No, I won’t let you walk away just like that.” He confirmed.

You laughed humorlessly. “Just so you know, I don’t have any money.”

He ignored you. “Who sent you?” He asked.

Ah, the interrogation. Again. “Your loyal guard dogs already asked me that while they were tying me down. And they used some very colourful language too,” You scoffed. “And I’ll repeat what I said to them. No one sent me. I don’t work for anyone.”

He began walking around you again, coming to a stop right in front of you this time. You looked up at him. Damn he was… kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but smirk, then failed at hiding it.

“What’s with the smirk?” He asked. You were surprised with how calm he was with this whole thing. It was unnatural.

You held his stare as you spoke, “Nothing I was just thinking about how I used to watch the news growing up and they always mentioned how much of a big bad monster you are. But there’s not even a single battle scar on your pretty face.”

He chuckled this time, shaking his head as he looked away from you for a brief moment. “Stop making me sound old. Also, the scars are everywhere but on my face.” He said, stepping closer, bending down a little so he could whisper, “And did you just call me pretty?”

Your smirk faded. Your murderous glare returned. “Fuck you.” You said quietly.

He stepped back with a proud smirk on his face. “How did you get in here? With no help? I’m finding that hard to believe.”

The smirk came back. “You’re doubting my amazing thieving skills? I spent years perfecting them mind you.”

He sighed. “Years? You look twenty-five at most, have you been stealing shit since you were a kid?”

You shrugged, or tried to, “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Dead parents, grew up with shitty relatives, ran away from there, been a thief ever since.” You summarised your life in that self-deprecating way you always did.

He didn’t laugh, or chuckle. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “Where do you even live?”

You gave him a sassy smile, “I’m a thief, I break into somewhere new each night. You’d be surprised at how many vacant apartments with comfy beds there are in this area.”

Again, he gave you that same poker face. Handsome poker face. “And you broke into my house tonight for what? To sleep?”

“House?” You gasped dramatically. “This is a damn castle. Though the décor is a little too dark, then again it suits you, you know? Nice gardens, by the way.”

He sighed again, like he was dealing with a difficult child. “Why did you come here? And how? How did you get past my guys?”

You took a deep breath and began explaining, “Number one, I came here to steal whatever expensive things I could find. Though you do have very nice comfy beds but I never,” You put more emphasis, “ever, sleep in a house when the owner is home.”

“Charming.” He commented.

You continued explaining.

“And as for how, well I spent the last few days hiding and watching. You have thick bushes out near the entrance of your castle. I stayed there, observed and learnt your security guards’ schedule, and found out that the multiple cameras around your property also rotate. I figured out that I had exactly a fourteen-second window to get past the gates. I found a chance and took it. Picking the locks was easy. But then your people just had to catch me while I was halfway through stealing that lovely painting from your lovely library.” You finished with a smile so sweet it had him sighing again. “And now here we are.”

He mumbled something under his breath about god saving him, then he walked to the door and opened it. He called out a name and someone came running. A young man with a sweet face, looking younger than you even, walked into the room.

“Peter, I need you to make all necessary arrangements.” Bucky pointed in your direction and said, “She’ll be staying with us. Looks like we have a new member.”

You ignored Peter’s very confused look, and hissed at Bucky. “What? I didn’t agree to this!”

Bucky turned to face you with a serious look on his face. “You have no job, no income, and no place to live. I’m offering you all three and you are not in a position to refuse me.” He continued over your attempt at cutting him off. “You have skills I could use. From now on, you work for me.” He paused. “Agreed, little thief?”

You glared at him. Damn. A job, a salary, and a roof over your head? The bastard knew you couldn’t refuse. You had to be smart here. He could’ve killed you, but he didn’t. Instead he made you this almost irresistible offer. This could only mean that…

“You really need me for something, don’t you?” You asked, suddenly sounding cocky.

He clenched his jaw. And that was confirmation enough. “We’ll talk business later.”

You laughed in his face. “Alright, alright, don’t get too excited. But if I’m working for you, I have some conditions and requests.”

He blinked. The Peter guy was so quiet and still you almost forgot he was in the room. “What makes you think you’re in a position to have conditions, or make requests? I could’ve killed you the moment I saw you, you know that?” That cold voice of his would’ve sent shivers down anyone else’s back.

“But you didn’t because you need me.” You argued with a sly smirk. “Now, here’s everything I need,” You turned to Peter and began listing, “A nice room, preferably the guest bedroom at the end of the right wing.” You winked at Bucky and said, “I checked it out earlier and it has the best view.” You turned to Peter and continued, “I also want a whole new, complete wardrobe, with bags and shoes and everything.” You looked at Bucky and said, “Can I also have a car and a chauffeur?”

He frowned. “No.”

“What if I need to move around? Run errands, go get my nails done and all?” You fake pouted.

“I said no.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, can I have a pet horse?”

Bucky sighed, “No.”

“A puppy then?”

“What are you, a child?” He questioned.

You smirked, “I mean you’re probably old enough to be my father.” You teased him and tried again, “Can I please have a puppy, daddy?” You knew the way you said it sounded far away from innocent.

Bucky walked over to you so fast your brain barely registered it. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and stared deep into your eyes. “If that’s the case then daddy can also put you over his lap if you keep being a brat, and spank your little butt raw until you either cry or come, or both. Is that what you want, little thief?”

You were breathless as you whispered, “No.” That wasn’t entirely true, and damn it, you both knew it in that moment.

Bucky smirked. “Good girl.” He whispered. Then stepped away and turned to Peter and said, “Untie her and get her whatever she wants.” He looked at you as he said, “No cars, horses, or dogs.”

Then he left the room. Leaving you speechless, and very much wet.

—

Peter, you learnt, was one of Bucky’s assistants. Whatever Bucky asked him to do, he did. That included sending a group of mean looking men out to shop for all that you had written down on your ‘Requirements’ list.

He showed you to your requested room and promised your stuff will be here before the end of the day. And sure enough, by the time the sunset everything you had asked for was brought to you.

You squealed when you entered the closet, excited to put away all your new things. Clothes, accessories, bags, shoes, toiletries, makeup, skin care products, and more.

Peter came by again in the evening, bringing you dinner and said, “Boss said he’d see you in his office tomorrow morning at eight. Don’t be late, please. He hates it when people aren’t punctual.”

You’d be lying if you said the mention of Bucky didn’t immediately remind you of what he said earlier about you being on his lap and… ugh. Damn him.

For the first time in a long time, you went to bed with a full belly that night. And you squealed again when you got in the comfy bed, freshly showered and moisturised. As you drifted off to sleep, feeling weirdly warm and safe, you forgot all about your meeting with Bucky the next morning, and how you needed to be up early for it.

—

Bucky couldn’t sleep that night. So much had happened in such a short time. One moment he was having a quiet, calm day of golfing with Sam, and the next he got a phone call from his security guys that his mansion had been broken into.

He went from spending a rare day off with his best friend, to having a sassy, drop dead gorgeous thief in his guest room. He sighed, sipping on his whiskey, holding the phone to his ear as he looked out of his bedroom window.

“Oh, I know that sigh of defeat.” Sam laughed through the phone. “Is she really that pretty that you couldn’t even use your brain?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. And here he thought calling Sam to complain about everything was a good idea. Of course the latter would only make fun of him. In fact, he thought, maybe Sam would team up with you and you two would make fun of him together.

“Shut up, Sam. I’m serious.” Bucky sighed again, “She pisses me off but at the same time… I don’t know. This girl has been living like a fugitive since she was a kid. I looked up the relatives she ran from, her uncle and aunt, and honestly, anyone would run from them. God knows what kind of messed up shit she’s witnessed and been through her whole life.”

Sam was quiet, listening.

Bucky continued. “You know the bushes near the entrance? She hid there for days. Days, Sam! Through the rain, and cold nights all just so she could study the guards’ movements. She probably didn’t eat that whole time. Who knows when’s the last time she had a warm meal? She’s so resilient. And strong. But so sassy, and the way she runs that mouth it makes you want to-,”

Bucky exhaled, exasperated. And continued.

“She has that look in her eyes, you know?” Bucky thought back to earlier when he first saw you. “Life hasn’t been kind to her. She has really sad eyes. Like she was forced to grow up and take care of herself. I couldn’t…” Bucky trailed off, “I couldn’t just let her go back to living like that. Go ahead, make fun of me for it.” He sighed. “She’s gonna be really useful to me.” He stated. “You remember last year? When I was ambushed by Roger’s men? Something of mine was stolen then, and I’m gonna get it back using her.” Bucky already had a plan made. “I needed a skilled thief anyway. I mean she managed to break into my house, that means she actually is really good. She could even lead some of my guys when they go-” Bucky stopped talking and asked, “Are you even listening?”

Sam chuckled, “I am, I am. It’s just rare to see you admire someone like this. Who knew big bad Bucky could be so soft? You better let me win next time we’re golfing, otherwise I’m telling everyone that you have a crush on the thief.”

Bucky groaned, “What is this? What are we, children? I do not like her like that, alright? I’m about a decade and a half older than her. And she won’t stop reminding me of it.”

Sam laughed again. “Oh I like her already. Anyway, have fun with your crush and tell me how it goes.”

“Goodbye, you asshole.” Bucky ended the call and shook his head at the thought of what Sam said. A crush? On a thief? No way.

As he made his way to his study room, Bucky couldn’t help but pause outside the guest room in which you slept. He could hear soft snores coming from within. Something in him felt satisfied that you were able to sleep soundly here, not having to find vacant places to break into. He wanted to keep it that way.

Why? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, Sam was wrong.

As he sat at his desk in his study room, Bucky tried to get work done but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Something about you was different. Bucky never trusted people this easily, let alone allow them into his home.

That reminded him of something… Bucky found the list that Peter had left on his desk. The list of Requirements, as you called it. And as he read all the things his men had to go out and buy earlier, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.

Oh this could be fun. Bucky couldn’t wait for your meeting the next morning. At eight sharp.

—

When you woke up, the sun was in your face. But you hadn’t felt so warm and comfy in a long, long time so you relished the feeling. You let out a yawn, opening your eyes slowly. And you found yourself looking right at a rather pissed off Bucky standing at the end of the four-poster bed, with his hands in his pockets.

All black suit, perfect hair, and those blue eyes…

“Oh hi,” You said, taking your sweet time as you sat up in bed. “Good morning.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.” Bucky hissed. “Who sleeps in for that long? You and I had a meeting at eight this morning. I was waiting.”

You yawned again. “I’m sorry, this bed is really, really comfy.” You said, as if that was a decent excuse. “Maybe you shouldn’t have put such nice beds in your guest rooms if you didn’t want your guests to sleep in.”

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he was trying very hard to contain his annoyance. “You are not a guest. You work for me. So when I tell you to meet me in my office at eight, I want you there.”

You smirked, peeling off the covers and slowly crawling over to the end of the bed where he stood. You knelt on the bed right in front of him, “Oh? You want me?” You teased, knowing he would snap at any moment now.

You remained kneeling on the bed as his metal hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, squeezing just a little. The smirk on your face stayed in place this time, only pissing him off even more. “Watch your mouth, little thief.” He said.

“Or what? You’ll spank me till I… what was it you said?” You repeated his words from the day before, “Till I cry, or come. Or both?” He remained quiet. His hand tightened around your throat, choking you a little bit more. You couldn’t help but whisper, “Jokes on you, I’m into this shit.”

Bucky let go of you immediately. You laughed in his face as he shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket again.

“Get out of bed and get ready. Meet me in my office in half an hour.” He ordered and turned to leave.

“But I’m hungry,” You said right before he could walk out of the door. “You can’t treat your guests like this, you have to feed me.”

Bucky refrained from groaning. “Fine,” He said, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His broad shoulder. “I’ll have someone bring up some food for you. Now hurry up, don’t be fucking late again.” He barked.

—

Bucky was embarrassed to admit to himself that his hands were shaking as he left your bedroom and walked to his study room. Fuck, less than twenty-four hours and you already had such a bizarre effect on him.

Bucky shut the door behind him, and closed his eyes to find some kind of composure. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The sight of you in those black satin shorts and that tight, excuse of a top… fuck. The sight of you so comfortable in bed had messed him up so much he’d gripped you by the throat like an animal.

He was grateful you didn’t seem to notice the hardness in his pants. He needed to get a grip. How the hell was he supposed to boss you around if this is what a brief interaction was doing to him.

He sat at his desk and waited. And about twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the housekeepers with a tray of breakfast food. Bucky waited some more and after a short while, there was another knock at his door. Before he could even open his mouth to say something, you walked in.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. Just who allowed you to look this good? You were glowing after a good night of sleep. You looked incredible in your little sundress. Bucky watched as you took a seat on the other side of his desk before he even asked you to. The smell of your body wash and perfume drifted over to him, and he was almost salivating.

He kept watching as you moaned in delight when you took your first sip of coffee, then your first bite of warm croissant.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your breakfast at,” He checked his watch, “almost three in the afternoon,” He spoke, finally. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss your position here in my house and as my employee.”

You scoffed through a mouthful of some kind of pastry. You swallowed it with a sip of coffee and said, “So formal, my god. Just tell me where to go, what to steal and I’ll do it, no need to be so poetic about it.”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t need you to steal anything at the moment. There is something, but the time isn’t right. I will let you know when it is. But as of now, I have other plans for you.”

You frowned at him as you finished your breakfast. “Okay… I’ll do them under one condition.”

“Enough with your conditions.” Bucky hissed.

Despite his warning, you continued, “There’s this old, abandoned apartment complex,” You said, grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper from his desk like it was your own, scribbling something down, “I have some stuff hidden in there that I need. Not much, just two boxes. I know you won’t let me go but could you have someone go get it for me, please?”

Bucky looked down at the address and apartment number written on the paper. “What stuff?” He asked.

“Just stuff I’ve stolen over the years.”

He scoffed, “But you have everything you need here.”

You nodded, “Some of the things are… priceless.”

Bucky nodded. “Fine. I’ll have someone go get it. Now, about your role here. You’re gonna start training with the guys tomorrow.”

You frowned, “I’m a thief, I don’t need exercise.” You argued.

“No,” He said, calmly as he leaned back into his chair. “But you need to learn how to fight, how to use a gun, a knife, self defence, how to be part of a team and all that.”

Okay. Things got very real. You stayed quiet and nodded.

“Can you drive?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll have someone teach you.”

You shrugged. “So, no stealing for now. Only training like I’m going to battle. Anything else?” You asked.

“Yes, actually.”

–

About an hour later, you stood in the middle of what Bucky called your new workstation. You looked around the spacious room, impressed. It looked a lot like a lab, with every equipment a thief could ever need, even some new tech that you yourself weren’t familiar with. Weapons, trinkets, everything.

“So you want me to teach your guys how to steal using this stuff.”

“I want you to teach them necessary skills.” Bucky corrected. “Strategies. How to be observant. How to pick locks, how to be discreet, how to be invisible and hide for days, how to use a narrow, fourteen-second window to infiltrate a secure place. Whatever else you can teach. Minus the stealing.”

You smirked, leaning against your new desk. “So you like what I do, huh?”

Bucky ignored that. “Don’t cause any trouble.” He said. “I’m paying you to do a good job here.”

You looked around again, not able to fight the genuine smile that formed on your face. “It’s like paying a kid to be at the playground.” You smirked, looking at him with determination in your eyes, and some mischief. “I’m gonna have so much fun here with my new friends.”

“Do not hurt my guys, I need them.”

—

The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. You woke up each day, excited for a change. No more having to be constantly on the run, no more having to steal for food, clothes, or find shelter. You had more time to live now, not just survive.

Plus you had the lab. It was your favourite place ever. Surrounded by gadgets and tech you didn’t know could exist, weapons that you were starting to get the hang of, and Bucky’s guys that you used as if they were your test subjects – you actually had fun each day.

The dynamic between you and Bucky changed too. And it all started the day after he first showed you your new lab…

“My guys have your stuff from the old apartment. It’s in my office, come get it.” He spoke through the phone – your new phone – ordering you to come collect your stuff.

You almost ran out of your room and to his office. When you got there, the two boxes were placed nicely on one side of his desk. A cardboard one, and the other one was a medium sized metal code-lock box. He stood behind the desk, watching you.

“As requested,” He pointed at the two boxes, “Your stuff.” He paused, then said, “Open them.”

You froze. “Uh, what?”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I’m gonna allow you to keep your stolen goods in my house, I should know what they are. Now come on, open the boxes. I need to check them.”

You walked into the room, shutting the door behind you. As you approached the desk, you tried to find a way out of this. “You don’t need to. They’re nothing. Just things I’ve collected over the years.”

Bucky gave you the usual, handsome poker face. “Would you like me to open them?”

“No,” You said quickly. You rushed to the cardboard box, opening it to let him see the contents. “See? Just books I’ve stolen from everywhere.” You explained as he looked inside the large box filled with old and new books.

“Now the other one.” He said, eyeing the metal box.

“That one has… um, personal things.” You said. “You don’t need to see all that.”

Bucky walked around the desk, stopping only when he was inches away from you. He leaned a little close to your ear and whispered, “I have received bills of all the things you made my guys buy recently. Some of the bills explicitly listed each and every piece of lingerie and underwear you ordered, including a certain little red thong you’re possibly wearing right now.” He said, making you shiver. “And now you wanna talk about boundaries?”

You pulled away to look at him, seeing the proud triumph in his eyes. “Fine.” You refused to let him win this one. You reached for the box, unlocked it, opened the lid and waited. Bucky was quiet. Too quiet. “Say something.” You whispered, “This is very awkward.”

Finally he did.

“Get on the desk.” He said. You froze again and seeing that you weren’t moving he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “I said, get on the desk. If I’m gonna allow you to keep all of these toys, then I better test their… effectiveness as well.”

You avoided his eyes, focusing on the top buttons of his shirt as you asked, “What kind of rule is that?”

“My kind.” He replied. “Now get on the desk. Legs up and spread them so I can see exactly what I have to deal with.”

Fuck.

You sat up on the desk, feeling just a little coy as you lifted your legs up and placed them on the edge of the desk, spreading your knees as far as they would go so he could look at you down there.

Bucky scoffed. “See? There’s that red thong.” He pulled his metal hand out of his pocket, placing it on your inner thigh, slowly inching upwards. His cold fingers lazily teased your clit, then slid down to inspect your wet folds. He pulled the thong to the side and mindlessly dragged a metal finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you.

You let out a quiet whimper which made him groan.

You looked down in between your thighs, his hand teasing you like it was the most casual thing. You sheepishly looked up and into his piercing, icy blue eyes that were already staring at you. You couldn’t look away.

“Which one’s your favourite?” He asked. And it took you a little while to realise that he was referring to the pile of sex toys in the metal box.

“The, uh… the vibrator.” You answered. Your face got all hot but you refused to seem embarrassed.

Bucky smirked, pulling his hand away to reach for the vibrator. Light pink wand with a bulbous head. Bucky looked at it, then at you. He looked down at your wet folds and spat before turning the wand on and pressing it right on your clit. His spit helped the toy to move around better as he circled your clit with it, before moving it up and down your slit.

You couldn’t help but moan and gasp as you felt the familiar pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Of course Bucky noticed, and he scoffed as he lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release.

“No,” You whined, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, “Please…” You begged.

“Look at me,” he said, softly. You looked back at him as his other hand wrapped around your throat. Bucky leaned in enough so that his lips brushed against yours when he spoke. “You will come when I allow it, you hear me?

You nodded immediately.

“Good girl.” He said as he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, as you stared into his icy blue eyes. He moved the toy around a little more before lifting it off you again, turning it off this time. “You can take your books and go now, this box stays with me.”

He put the vibrator back safely, shutting the box.

You closed your legs, hopping off of his desk. “What do you mean it stays with you? You can’t just… just steal my toys!” You frowned at him, pissed.

Bucky gave you an annoying smirk. “Yes I can. Now whenever you need a toy, you can come ask for it. If I feel like it, I’ll let you have it.”

Bastard.

You left his office angrily that afternoon. And vowed never to beg for any of the toys in that box. Let him have it. Screw him, right?

Wrong.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your fingers didn’t relieve you as much as the vibrator would have. And that’s how you found yourself swallowing your pride and knocking on his office door. The lights were on so you figured he’d still be in there.

“Come in.” He said and you could already hear the smirk in his voice.

You opened the door, walked in and shut it behind you. “I need it.” You said, looking at him as he lounged on the couch near his desk.

“Need what?” He asked, acting oblivious as he placed his drink down and pretended to be confused.

You rolled your eyes at him. “The vibrator. Please.”

He leaned back on the couch, with a playful smirk on his face. “Oh I put it in the trash. I put all of them in the trash.”

You blinked. It took a moment for the anger to surface. You took a step towards the couch. “Do you know what I had to do in order to rob that sex store? I had to fight the guy who was closing up for the day. With a baseball bat! And you know the worst part? He was one of my ex flings!”

Bucky let out a chuckle.

“Don’t just sit there and laugh! What am I supposed to do now?”

He gave you a mischievous look and said, “Come here.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and stood there in the middle of his office. “No.”

“Keep being a brat and I will drag you here by your hair if I have to.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Try me.” And those words had you moving towards him at once.

You reached the couch where he was sitting and stood in front of him. “Now what?”

“Get on my lap.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to show how his words and tone made you want to drop to your knees and take him in your mouth instead. “You’re such a disgusting, old, pervert who just wants to-,”

He cut you off by pulling you into his lap and grabbing you by the throat. His metal hand squeezed your throat just enough to make you whimper. “What did I say about you and your smart mouth? Hmm?” Then he scoffed and said, “Right, I forgot you’re into this shit.” He squeezed your throat a little more. “If I reached down there, would I find that you’re completely wet and ready for me?”

You whimpered again, instinctively grinding on his lap. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Look at you,” He murmured. “You won’t need your toys now,” He said, “If you need to come, you ask for my cock. Understood?”

You nodded immediately.

He smirked. “Now, will you be a good girl and fuck yourself on daddy’s cock or what?”

You whined, nodding, “Please…”

Bucky couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss then. All your whimpering was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t take it anymore.

You kissed him back, allowing him to almost tear your PJs off of your body. You only pulled away from the kiss to say, “We need a condom. I’m not on birth control.”

Bucky nodded, reaching to pull a condom out of his pocket. “Remind me about the birth control thing tomorrow.”

You watched as he undid his trousers and put the condom on. The moment it was on, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss again. He helped you as you lifted up and then slowly lowered yourself down on his hard cock.

You couldn’t look away as he held your stare. You both gasped and moaned as you finally sank down on him. Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside at first. Bucky felt it too, and an arrogant smirk formed on his face as he grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up, filling you up.

You moaned out loud as he did. “Fuck, you feel good, little thief.” He whispered.

Once he was buried deep inside you, you leaned in to kiss him again while lifting your lower body just the slightest, before sliding back down on his cock, you whimpered as he groaned, filling you up and being all snug inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” He swore again, “You feel so tight around daddy’s cock.”

The tip of his cock reached places you never knew existed. You whimpered, whining in pleasure as you took a good look at the man beneath you. He oozed power, manspreading on the couch with you on his cock.

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. Grunting and moaning under his breath as you sped up even more, riding his cock and making him lose his damned mind.

“You have such a perfect little cunt…” He said, “It’s all mine now.”

You were whimpering and whining yourself as you took more and more of him. But you couldn’t help but tease him, “And here I thought mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing.”

Bucky playfully slapped your thigh. “I make the rules here. From now on, mixing business with pleasure is a very good idea.”

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “Fuck,” You whined.

His hand circled around your waist and he pulled your warm body closer to his. He was still very much clothed, except for his cock being out and buried inside you. Meanwhile your PJs were on the floor, leaving you completely naked on his lap. Something about that contrast made it even hotter.

“Beg.” He said, “I want to hear you beg me to let you come.”

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his blue eyes.

“Please daddy,” You whimpered, “Please, can I come?”

Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. “Hold on, just a little,” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Just a little,” He whispered, “Wait for me.”

“Please… I can’t,” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath.

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” You said as you caught your breath. “I’ll wait next time.”

Bucky laughed. “It’s alright. You were still such a good girl for daddy.” He murmured.

—

That night changed everything.

Ever since, each time you annoyed Bucky he would just fuck you against the nearest surface. Safe to say you began to annoy him even more.

But he could also be kind sometimes. For instance this one time when he found you in the library:

You were lounging on a sofa, reading when he walked in silently.

“Winter’s tale?” He surprised you with both his literary knowledge and presence.

You peaked at him from behind your book and said, “Leontes is such a cunt. Quite like you sometimes.”

Bucky ended up fucking you right there on the sofa. And then promised to get you your own bookshelf in the library because he didn’t like the way you stuffed your books among his on the current shelves. It’s messy and immature, he said. Grown ups don’t keep their books like this, he said.

Bucky could also be so confusing at times. Like how he would always treat you like the thing between the two of you was just a casual fling. But then he would get jealous whenever he saw you getting too close to any one of his guys while you trained with them.

“I will be overseeing your training from now on. No need to join the guys in the morning.” He said out of nowhere when you joined him for dinner in the dining room one night.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because you distract them too much with your shenanigans. Constant flirting, walking around in your little workout outfits, all that needs to stop.” He spoke, avoiding your eyes.

You smirked. “So we’re gonna be early morning workout buddies from now on?”

He sighed, “Don’t make me regret this.”

You chuckled, “Oh you will regret this.”

He did. But in the best ways. So each morning workout either started or ended with a nice fuck sesh.

—

You were at your workstation one morning when Bucky walked in with a serious look on his face.

You’d just seen him a couple of hours ago for your ‘workout’ so you wondered why he was back. Usually he left you alone for most of the day, only finding his way back to your bed late at night. So this was unusual.

“What’s going on? Why do you look like you want to murder someone?” You asked as he stood right in front of you with an earpiece in hand.

“Put this on.” He said.

You did as he asked. And waited.

Bucky grabbed his phone, walking to one of the nearest screens and a few taps later, you were looking at the live feed of some kind of body cam.

“What’s this?” You asked. Just then, you began hearing muffled voices coming from the earpiece.��

Bucky turned to you. “My guys are… retrieving something of mine from a secret location. I need you to guide them.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, is this it? Is this the thing you needed me for?”

Bucky’s face gave away nothing. “Just do as you’re told.”

You nodded, quickly looking back at the screen. “Who’s leading them?” You asked.

Someone’s muffled voice replied from the earpiece. “Thor is.”

You nodded, looking at the screen. “Right. How could I miss those biceps that are bigger than my head?” You said.

Bucky smacked you on the butt and said, “Focus.”

“I am, I am. I got this.”

Anf for the next few minutes, you led the men through whatever maze of a building they were in. You found the location within seconds and managed to have a blueprint of the place. You warned them of the cameras, told them when to move and when not to. You instructed Thor how to pick an ancient looking lock that led them into an even bigger maze. But you did everything right, used the right strategies, the right tricks up your sleeves, and you managed to get the guys out of there safely, with the mystery package they stole.

Once they were out in the clear and confirmed that they were on their way home, you turned to Bucky and asked, “How did I do?” You waited eagerly for his response.

Bucky just smirked and said, “Good. You passed the test.”

Your smile faded fast. “What? What test?”

Bucky explained, “The guys weren’t actually out stealing shit. I just wanted to see how you would do in a situation like that. And you did great. Congratulations, little thief.”

He turned to walk away but you called out. “You know, I deserve a nice gift for being so amazing.”

“Do you now?” He asked, not turning around.

“Yes, I want a dog!”

Bucky paused at the door. “No.” He said and left.

“Please, daddy…” You pouted.

“No.”

Oh well, it was worth a try.

—

The next morning, you woke up and got ready for yet another day of annoying Bucky. However, when you stepped out of your bedroom door, you noticed something outside your door.

It was a basket. And inside it slept two puppies, two of the fluffiest little balls of fur you’d ever seen. Once the shock passed, you began tearing up immediately.

You picked up the basket as slowly as you could and made your way to Bucky’s bedroom. You walked in without knocking. And there he was, standing in the middle of the room, getting ready for the day, buttoning his black shirt, casually looking like a god. Once he saw you, his playful smirk showed itself.

“So, how do you like-,” He stopped talking the moment the first tear fell down your cheek. His smirk disappeared. “What is it?” He asked.

You carefully placed the basket down, the puppies inside it sleeping soundly. Then you rushed to Bucky, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

Bucky hugged you back instantly, though confused concerning your reaction. Out of all things, he didn’t expect this. “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked, softly.

You sniffled, hiding your face in his chest. “I was thirteen when I ran from my uncle and aunt’s house.” You said, voice muffled. “And they had dogs so I grew up with them. But when I took off to be on my own, I couldn’t have a dog because I could barely take care of myself.” You sniffled again. “And it’s hard being without animals when you grew up around them, you know?” You let more tears wet his shirt. “Thank you,” You said, finally.

Bucky held you as your shoulders shook with your sobs. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and whispered, “Oh baby, I’ve got you now.”

You pulled away to look at him, both of you ignoring the patch of wetness your tears left on his grey shirt. “You got me two puppies.”

Bucky smiled down at you. “You deserve it.”

You sniffled, “You’re being nice, what do you want?”

“Nothing,” He rolled his eyes, “Now get out of here.”

You stayed put. “I can’t. I have to make it even.”

“Yeah?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “How?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, let me suck your-,”

He cut you off by pulling you closer, a hand wrapped around your throat already. “You are very tempting right now, in your little red dress. And if you don’t want want me to tear it off right this instant, I’d suggest you-,”

You cut him off this time, “Who said I don’t want you to tear it off?” You asked with a smirk.

Bucky sighed before pushing you down on his bed. “I’ve got a busy day ahead.” He said, looking down at you as he hovered above you, “But you don’t care about that, do you?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Not one bit.” You said, running your hands over his chest and his strong shoulders.

He smirked, giving in. He leaned in for a brief kiss while he pulled your dress up and placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them.

Your heart raced in anticipation. His hand slowly dragged your thin underwear down your legs and threw it around somewhere behind him as he inched his face closer to your already dripping core.

“Such a fucking brat.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath.

“Shut up, admit it. You’re obsessed with me.” You sassed, then moaned out loud when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your clit. You felt a familiar rush in your veins. Fuck he was addicting.

Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning more moans out of you as your back arched off the bed. His bed, you realised. This was the first time you two were fooling around in his room.

Only now did you realise how it smelt like him. Dark, male, addicting. But most of all, dangerous. Fuck, just his scent made your head all foggy in lust.

Bucky had you squirming, moaning, a complete mess under him in no time. “I love seeing you like this,” He said, kissing your inner thighs, “Too busy moaning for me to run that smart mouth.”

You couldn’t answer as your legs trembled around his head, he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed his tongue deeper into you, making you cry out of pleasure.

“See what I mean?” He chuckled, “I bet you want to say something sassy so bad right now, but you can’t.” He playfully bit you before sucking on your clit. “Daddy’s tongue has you all tongue-tied, huh princess?”

You cried out. “Please… please daddy,” You whined.

With a proud smirk, a look of determination in his pretty blue eyes, and a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you gushing out all over his tongue, lapping up all that you gave him. While you moaned and squirmed on his bed as he sucked on your sensitive clit until you calmed down.

You kept your eyes shut as you caught your breath, feeling him leave small kisses all over your thighs.

When you opened your eyes again, his face was right above yours. His devious blue eyes looking down into your wide open ones. You were certain all he saw in your eyes was hunger. For him.

“I want you,” You whispered, sliding your hands into his hair. “Now.” You demanded.

“Brat.” He hissed when you tugged on his hair.

You smiled. “Pretty sure it’s princess.” You teased.

“A bratty fucking princess then.” He didn’t give you a chance to sass back as he leaned in for a deep kiss, holding himself up with one hand as he quickly undid his trousers. You helped, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Bucky moaned into the kiss as you did, and the sound of it sent shivers down your back.

You gasped, and whined into the kiss as he carefully slid into you, filling you up entirely, inch by inch. Stretching you out deliciously like he did all the time. Bucky wasted no time, he pulled out and pushed back into you, making you moan into the kiss each time until the makeout turned lazy and messy, filled with gasps and moans.

You noticed he wasn’t being as ravenous as usual. He was… trying to be gentle with you.

Indeed he was. Your heart skipped a beat when Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up just a little into you. He was groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly, and you were unable to focus on anything other than him.

His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name out loud.

“That’s it, princess.” He whispered against your open mouth, “Tell me who’s making you feel this good. Who’s fucking you, huh?”

You kept whimpering his name over and over again as he fucked you nice and slow, kissing his way down your face, from your collar bones to down your chest. And you cried out when he took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

You opened your eyes as he pulled away to look down at you, his lips soft and pink and parted as he breathed rapidly, fucking into you a bit faster.

Something shifted in that moment, you weren’t sure what. But something changed.

His brows furrowed as he tried so hard to hold back and make you come before he did. “Fuck,” He swore. “Come for me.” He smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for daddy, princess.”

You felt the pressure building in between your hips as he sped up even more, his metal hand reached down and grabbed your hip gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other.

Bucky pushed his face into you and nuzzled your neck as he growled in pleasure. With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone, moaning and whimpering under him, grinding against him hungrily while he came right after, filling you up again.

He stayed there, limp on top of you for a brief moment, before he slid off of you and laid down beside you. He caught his breath while you blinked rapidly, trying to calm your racing heart and figure out what the hell just happened.

Before the awkward silence settled in completely, you got up on shaky legs and fixed your dress. “Well, this has been fun. I gotta go feed my new kids now. See you later.” You grabbed the puppy basket and almost ran out of his bedroom.

As you shut the door, you heard him laughing to himself. A boyish, carefree laugh that made you smile.

—

With your new dogs, training, your lab, more training, days flew by.

Whatever Bucky had planned, whatever big heist you were supposed to carry out, you knew it was coming soon.

You often wondered what would happen once you successfully stole whatever he intended for you to steal. You didn’t even know what it was yet. Must be something precious either way, if all this planning went into it. But what after that? Would you no longer work for Bucky then?

Would this… whatever it was between the two of you that both of you absolutely refused to acknowledge – no matter how much Sam teased you both for it – would it all end?

You were lost in thoughts of all this when you found yourself mindlessly making your way to Bucky’s office one evening. Your two dogs, loyally in tow.

You found Bucky in an equally sour mood as you, sulking at his desk with a drink.

You shut the door behind you, leaving the dogs outside as you made your way to Bucky. He looked up at you and silently patted his lap. You made yourself comfortable on his thighs, an arm around his neck as you leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. His stubble rough against your nose and cheek.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, “What has you looking like an evil god plotting the end of mere mortals who are standing in the way of you dominating the world?”

He chuckled at that. “You are so annoying you should be grateful at least you’re pretty to look at.” He mumbled, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. You assumed it was whiskey.

You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. But then you noticed that distant look in his eyes. Unfortunately, you were very good at reading people. You leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“What is it?”

He let out a sigh. “You never ask me what I’m keeping you around for.”

You shrugged. “You said you’d tell me when it’d be the right time. I’m just waiting, I guess. You told me about Rogers and his men and how they stole something from you. The details aren’t necessary, whatever it is, I’ll get it back. I promise.”

Bucky placed his glass down and turned to look at you. His metal arm held you securely on his lap. “It’s my mother’s ring.” He said. “The ring has been in our family for generations. All the men propose to their women with it.” He paused, then added, “I have nothing left of hers. Just the ring.”

Damn. Well. You would have never guessed that. A family heirloom? Why would Rogers tell his men to steal that? How would he even know to steal that?

You began to ask just that. “How did-,”

Bucky answered before you could even finish your question. “Steve, Sam, and I used to be friends. I always thought we’d be friends till the very end. But then Steve went rogue, power got to his head.”

Shit. No wonder Bucky and Sam were so close, they survived the downfall of a strong trio.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured, gently stroking his cheek. “I’ve never had close friends like that, I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose them. But I can tell it makes you really upset.” You pointed out. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll get your mom’s ring back. And I will even kick Steve for you if you ask me to.”

Bucky gave you a faint smile.

“Just get the ring back.” He said, staring deep into your eyes. “I need it.”

Oh? The thought of him on one knee, asking someone to marry him was surprisingly uncomfortable. But you pushed all that aside.

“So when do I go?”

—

Another week later, the plan was ready. Bucky’s men were ready. You were ready.

You had the location, had studied the blueprint very well. You’d be in contact with Bucky the whole time through the earpiece. Steve was rumoured to be out of town. His guards would not be expecting the heist. This was perfect.

Or so you thought. The moment you got near Steve’s house, a gut feeling told you something was off. And you must’ve mumbled something to yourself because Bucky’s voice came through the earpiece just then.

“I’ll say it again. The moment you sense something wrong, fall back. Do you hear me?” He used the cold, bossy tone.

You scoffed and replied, “Yes daddy.”

A few of the guys chuckled around you. And you could hear Bucky sighing as you giggled to yourself.

You noticed the guards getting ready to move, the typical security rotation. You looked behind you and whispered to the guys, “We have exactly twelve seconds to make it past the gates. Don’t be too loud, and follow me. If you can’t make it, stay back here and keep watch. Everyone understood?”

They all nodded silently.

“Okay… now!”

Not all of the guys could make it. Some had to stay back because the twelve-second window was too short for everyone to beeline through the gates.

But the group of you that made it past the gates and into Steve’s house were in for a big surprise. It was a trap, Steve wasn’t home but his people had been waiting for you.

What was meant to be a clean heist ended up in a crossfire.

You could hear Bucky barking orders through the earpiece. “Fall back! Now!”

You almost did… but fuck you were so close. So close. That was when you took the earpiece off and tucked it into the pocket of your cargo pants. He may have been right, but the adrenaline was too much to resist. You’d missed this feeling, this rush of being so close to danger, to being caught…

So you went for it.

Walked deeper into the trap.

You knew where the ring was kept, you had the little box in your hand. You didn’t have time to see what it looked like as you put it away in your pocket, along with the earpiece that Bucky surely was still screaming through.

And then. The room exploded.

Then there was nothing. Just ringing in your eyes, and blurry images in front of you. You coughed, gasping for air and all you got were dust in your lungs.

You faintly remember hands reaching for you, dragging you, trying to get you to walk. But your body did not cooperate. It refused to.

You don’t know how much time passed. Or where you were.

You could hear the panic in his voice as you tried your hardest to reorient yourself. Bucky was here? You were lying on the floor somewhere. You couldn’t remember much.

The heist. The ring. A lot of fighting. An explosion.

Ah, an explosion that threw you across the room causing you to collide against a concrete wall.

Your side hurt, badly. Your head throbbed. Your vision was blurry, but at least Bucky was here. He was here, you could hear his rapid footsteps approaching.

“Baby….” His voice sounded distant. “Baby, open your eyes. Please.” He had never sounded so vulnerable. Due to the way your body moved, you assumed you were in a rapidly moving vehicle. “Look at me,” You felt his hands on your face, “Princess, please…” You couldn’t focus too well on what he was saying, “... sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… baby, please…”

Then there was just darkness.

And pain.

And a headache that refused to go away.

But you were with Bucky so you gave into the darkness. You knew you were safe now that he was here.

—

When you woke up, you realised you were in Bucky’s room. On his bed. The headache was still here, not as bad as before though.

The room was dimly lit, so you figured it must be well into the evening. The house was quiet, but as you tried to sit up, you heard him.

“Thought you were gonna sleep for two more days.”

You couldn’t help the smirk. “I slept for two whole days?” Then you panicked, looking around, “Where are my dogs?”

“Safe, fed. Sleeping.” Bucky stepped out of the dark corner of the room, but didn’t come any closer. He was quiet for a few moments. Then, “You almost got killed.” He stated, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but no less handsome.

You scoffed. “As if that’s all it would take to kill me. You know, I once fell from two storeys and survived with just a twisted ankle. I’m amazing like that,” You winked at him. “Besides, I did a good job. I managed to get your precious ring,” You went to pat your pocket, only to realise that you were no longer wearing those cargo pants.

Of course, he wouldn’t have left you in those same clothes for two days while you recovered. You looked down under the blanket and you were wearing clean clothes. His clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt smelled like him.

“Looking for this?” He held his hand up and there it was. Prettiest piece of jewellery you’d ever laid eyes on. You could see the big, heavy stone from here. Dark green, black, silver. It looked elegant, and like it was crafted in some fae realm. It was truly unique.

“You changed me.” You pointed out, looking down at the clean clothes.

He gave you the same poker face. “What does it matter? I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count.” He said.

“And you made me wear your clothes.” You gave him a bratty, triumphant look.

He glared at you. “I’m sure my clothes feel more comfortable than those tight little dresses you wear all the time.”

You gasped dramatically, “You mean those tight little dresses you fuck me in all the time?”

That had him walking towards his bed immediately. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not right now, you’re hurt.”

“Aww,” You teased, “You care about me.”

Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. “I guess I do.” He said, reaching out to touch your face carefully.

You couldn’t look away from him. He was so gorgeous. Even in poorly lit rooms with his face half hidden in shadows, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

He smirked when he noticed you checking him out, “I know I’m pretty, stop drooling.”

You scoffed, shoving on the shoulder. The muscular bastard of course didn’t even move an inch.

“I’m gonna go bring you some food.” He said, taking your hand in his metal one. “You’ve been unconscious for days, you need the energy.” He slid the ring on your ring finger so casually it took you a few moments to realise what he’d just done.

Only when he got up to walk away did reality hit you. Hard. “Wait, what the fuck?” You held your hand up, “What does this mean?”

Bucky gave you a shrug, “Get used to it.”

“Bucky!”

“What?”

You blinked, mouth open, your body frozen in shock. “Did you just… are you for real? I thought the plan was to get the ring back so you could display it in your office and admire it like the deranged villain you try so hard to be.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Change of plans.”

You lowered your eyes, tracing a finger over the big stone on the gothic looking ring. “You can’t marry a thief.”

Bucky sat back down again, taking your chin between his fingers. “Why not? You stole something very precious the day you broke into my home, and this is your punishment now. A life sentence, if you will.”

“What did I steal?”

“My heart.”

You groaned at his cheesiness, leaning in and hiding your face into the crook of his neck. “You bastard.”

Bucky chuckled. “I love you too.”

You were quiet for a moment, breathing in his scent. It grounded you. But then you pulled away and asked, “What about Steve?”

“I’ll deal with him.” Bucky answered, sounding grave and cold. “He hurt my princess,” He said, pulling you closer so much that you were almost on his lap, “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You giggled, “Well technically he hurt your princess because she broke into his house to steal. Honestly, he had every right to hurt your princess.” You argued.

Bucky smirked, “So you agree? That you’re my princess?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Technically I’m your fiancé but I don’t really care about labels so yeah, I’ll be your princess or whatever.”

He laughed, “Oh you don’t get to be nonchalant about this. I’ll throw a big party, invite the whole city if I want to. And you’re gonna be the centre of attention the whole night, parading around in a pretty dress of my choice, showing off your ring, and telling people how much you’re in love with me.”

You groaned again. “You are insufferable.”

“I love you too, princess.” He repeated, kissing your forehead.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes

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rinhaler · 3 months

Note

OMG HI I LOCW UR WORKS U ARE SO TALENTED THAT MEGUMI KNW WITH THE GUN?? JAW DROPPED SCREAMING DLENCHING THE TOES WANT TO LICK THE SCREEN

anyways i love you and everything you write <3 was thinking about ex babysitter jujutsu kaisen guy.. envisioning geto or sukuna or gojo (???) idk but they like used to make fun of u and be a little angel for the parents n stuff but seeing them again but ur all grown up and a little spicy reunion !! n they’re like 5-7 yrs older so yum

got so so so carried away as usual but this was so fun to write.. i made it satoru and suguru bc i thought it would be fun :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, slight dubcon, fem!reader, age gap (reader 20s + them 30s), childhood crush to lovers?, alcohol consumption, love bites, tit sucking, praise, slight cucking?, double penetration (one hole), spanking, hair pulling, squirting, slight pussy eating, creampies, snowballing, pet names (sweetheart, baby).

words: 2.3k

It’s been months since you got to see a movie in the theatre. You don’t even remember the last time, or what you saw. But you’ve been counting down the days until you and your best friend finally had a day off work that lined up with each other. Why you’ve been craving seeing a movie, you’ll never know. But what you’ve been most excited for is the food.

Nothing has caught your eye, but your friend points out a cheesy sounding horror movie that you’re happy to see.

“Satoru? Is that you?” you ask, a familiar head of white hair catching your eye as you and your friend walk closer to him, seeing him leave the cinema screen you’re about to walk into. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since I was…”

“Wow,” he chuckles. “Look at you, all grown up. Yeah, it’s been a long time.” he continues. Your eyes meet the stare of the woman on his arm.

She smiles, but you see it’s disingenuous. Her body language is clingy and affectionate, desperately holding onto Satoru’s arm as she urges him to leave with her. You aren’t surprised that she’s trying to lead him away, but you are taken aback that someone has managed to tie the Satoru Gojo down. He was always popular with girls back when he used to babysit you, but he was never one for commitment or staying faithful.

“You two make a cute couple.” you smile at them both, trying to put the girl at ease. It doesn’t work, however. Instead, it seems to make her more nervous.

“It’s our first date.” Satoru informs you. He sighs a little as she pulls at his t-shirt, and it’s less than discreet. “We’re going to dinner later, so we better get going. It was nice seeing you though.” he smiles.

“Wait,” you stop him. “Um, are you still in touch with Suguru?” you wonder.

He smirks at that. He always teased you about having a crush on his best friend after the first time he brought him over for babysitting duty. They didn’t come as a pair every time after that, but it was more often than not. He made your heart race and you lost all ability to form a coherent sentence. You knew he’d never be interested in you; he was older and cooler than you’d ever hope to be.

“Of course. You know what? Here, give me your phone.” he tells you. The girl’s eyes fill with water, a look of defeat in a battle you weren’t even participating in overwhelms her. He quickly types his number into your phone and texts himself so that you can exchange contact information. “We can arrange a little reunion, yeah? See you around.” he winks before leading his date away.

A whole fortnight has passed before any plans come to fruition. That cinema trip is a distant memory that has been replaced with flirty texts in the group chat Satoru decided to make with you and Suguru.

It’s like being a teenager again.

Satoru’s teasing is ceaseless. Everything is so casual and generic in the group chat save for the occasional comment about your crush on Suguru back in the day. But it’s worse in the private messages. Now that you’re older and wiser he sees no point in holding back. He’s so flirtatious and grotesque and vulgar all at once.

Your conversations with Suguru, however, are a lot more reserved. Your fingers tremble whenever he texts. And the conversation is a lot sparser in comparison to how you talk with Satoru.

He’s sweet and kind, but you wonder if he’s just tolerating you for Satoru’s sake.

Satoru: are u cooking for us?

You: we’re getting takeout 🙄

You smirk at your phone as you continue to read the bombardment of heartbroken messages from Satoru, disappointment from the lack of a home-made meal. You can’t even tell if he’s being serious or kidding. You laugh, nonetheless. Though you’re easily startled when hear your doorbell ring.

As you open the door, you have to will yourself from allowing your jaw to drop. Pocketing your phone as you look up at Suguru. That handsome youthful face ageing into a more mature and chiselled one. It makes your heart skip a beat, but you try to downplay it.

“H-Hey!” you smile. “Nice to see you, it’s been forever.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” he smiles too, walking into your home when you move aside. He follows you to the kitchen, watching your every move as you pour two glasses of wine for yourselves. “I’m glad you got in touch.”

You continue to converse as you lead him to the front room and sit side by side on the couch. Neither of you seem to notice how time flies as you chat and reminisce about the days he used to come over to keep Gojo company while he babysat you.

As if you weren’t old enough to stay home without a sitter. That hardly helped your ability to seem cool for your age. And Satoru didn’t fail to tease you about that either.

“I always thought your little crush on me was sweet.” he laughs. “But I was too old for you, then.”

“I know.” you nod, taking a sip of the red liquid sloshing around your glass. “Do you remember that time Satoru invited two girls over?” you ask, face filling with heat as you recall the embarrassing incident.

“Oh,” he chuckles lightly, like a memory has been unlocked in the back of his head. “You locked yourself in your room and wouldn’t come out all night. Even after we sent them home.”

“I was jealous!” you try to defend yourself. “I was such a lame little pre-teen and then these gorgeous girls with perfect skin and perfect hair came over and you guys were hooking up and I was just… heartbroken!” you clutch your hand to your chest dramatically and begin to laugh as you try and make light of the memory.

He breathes, a soft smile prominent of his face as he thinks about it some more. The girls in question were the pretty, popular, cheerleader types. Everything you wanted to be, everything you wanted Suguru to see you as. And yet, you weren’t even close to achieving that reality. And still, he told them to go. Satoru felt bad for upsetting you, too. So they didn’t hesitate to tell them they had to leave.

“I remember sitting with Satoru outside of your bedroom door the whole time. You didn’t even use the bathroom.”

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “I ran to the bathroom after you left. And then I cried to my mom all night about how devastated I was.”

He thinks to himself, putting down his glass of wine on the coffee table before he looks at you. Your body freezes, worried you’ve offended him or creeped him out. A slew of words run rampant in your mind as you try and formulate an apology.

You’re taken aback, however, when he cups your face and slowly tilts his head before kissing you. It’s everything your teenage self had ever dreamed of. You want to drop your own glass to the floor and cup his face in turn as it deepens. But he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing.

“We’re not kids anymore.” he whispers.

You put down your glass beside his, before lunging in for another kiss. He lets you push him back against the couch, stripping yourself of your sweater so you’re down to just your bra. He smooths his hands over your hips, watching you eagerly as he awaits your next move.

“We’ll have to be quick.” you tell him. “Satoru will be here soon.”

You bend down to make out with him again, keening as he expertly unhooks your bra. His lips latch around your nipple before you’ve even realise he’s tossed your bra halfway across the room. Your hips roll against his clothed bulge, still in a state belief that this is even happening.

“I always wanted you to be my first.” you confess, and he halts his actions momentarily. “But I’m glad… I can fuck you properly instead.”

He allows you to help him out of his own shirt, neither of you capable of keeping your hands off each other for more than a second. Even less than that for your lips. Each sentence is hushed and hurried as you try and navigate this new and exciting development in what was meant to be a casual, friendly, reunion.

“So you’ve got experience now, huh?” he asks, kissing your neck greedily as he thinks about how much you’ve grown in the last decade. “You know how to fuck like a good girl?”

You nod, dumbly, kissing his neck in turn before traversing down his sculpted body. You both freeze, however, when the doorbell rings again. Your eyes widen in horror as you realise all of your clothes are scattered across the front room. There’s no way you can get dressed quick enough. Maybe it would be better to pretend you aren’t home. That you ran out because you forgot something at the store.

“It’s open.” Suguru yells, your heart pounding even faster than it had previously.

Satoru swaggers in as you sheepishly look in his direction with your arms across your chest, doing all you can to preserve your modesty.

“Wow.” he sneers, a teasing lilt in his tone as he looks at you both. Sweaty and dazed, though one of you seems to look less embarrassed than the other. “I knew this would happen.”

“It’s not what it looks—”

“Your tits are in his face and I can see a bruise forming on your neck, sweetheart.” he interjects, getting closer to you both. “I’m not judgin’. Why would I?” he smiles.

You can’t help but feel like you’ve been set up.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, “It’s too much Satoru. I can’t. I can’t. Y-You’ll have to wait your turn!” you protest as he prods at your already occupied cunt. But despite your whining he continues to push himself inside of you, determined to stretch you to your very limit. He shudders at the sight of your pussy swallowing his tip and doing all it can to spit it back out.

He’s been watching on the sidelines, patiently, as Suguru fucks you in the comfort of your own bed. Palming himself as he gets off to the image of his best friend’s cock drilling into your perfect little cunt. He thought he could be patient, but he was sorely mistaken. He’s seen with his own two eyes how well you can ride cock, but he wants to see how well you can handle getting railed.

He pushes you down towards Suguru has his palm splays across your back. You’re soon comforted by the feeling of his lips on yours, though you break away to moan as Satoru inches in further and further. His cock flush against his best friends without a single care, revelling in the sounds of your ragged breath and desperate whimpers.

“I can’t wait, baby. You’re swallowin’ this cock so good. Just take it, yeah?” he tells you, slapping your ass as he starts fucking you slowly.

“You look so pretty full of cock, sweetheart. Does it feel good?” Suguru asks as he plants his feet down onto the mattress and starts to fuck you in tandem.

You nod as a response, yelping as you feel Satoru’s fingers interlace with your hair and yank you up towards him. Your sweat coated back pressed flush against his chest. His free hand holds your hips while he uses your hair to his leverage as his pace becomes brutal. Your pussy oozes and gushes as they each poke and prod and fondle you through their eager assault.

Suguru’s hands wander to pinch and slap your tits, his lip bitten raw as he gets off to the sight of your flesh jiggling and bouncing in all of the right ways.

You squeak, unable to utter a single word or even so much as moan as you begin to squirt from the pleasure. The feeling is enough to have Suguru tumbling over the edge right after you while Satoru wraps his arm around you to play with your clit.

“Again.” he orders, pulling you away from Suguru so that he can kneel in front of your twitching pussy.

The pleasure builds again. Harder, slower, but finally you snap. Your cunt gushes divinely and Suguru savours every last drop. Satoru finishes deep as his balls tighten and he moans pathetically in your ear. But he doesn’t give you or himself a second to relax as he hooks his arms under the bends of your knees, spreading you open wide so that your combined coupling drips out of your hole.

Suguru buries his face in your cunt, slurping up the mess created by the three of you. He sticks his tongue out to show you the lewd combination of your fluids, before looking at Satoru with lust filled eyes. Satoru leans in to kiss him, accepting the tangy tasting mixture into his own mouth before looking down at you.

“Your cunt tastes beautiful, sweetheart.” Suguru tells you as he lightly spanks your clit.

Satoru forces you to look in his direction as he holds your jaw, prompting you to open your mouth wide for him. He kisses you passionately, encouraging you to follow his lead and welcome to lewd fluids onto your own awaiting tongue. You gasp as the taste hits you, but before you can object, he covers your mouth and pinches your nose with one hand.

“Swallow it like a good little girl.” he orders, and you do.

He lets you go after that, though your body just goes limp in his arms. He helps you lie down next to Suguru as he spoons you, and your childhood crush peppers you skin in delicate kisses as you begin to drift off.

“I’m glad I went to see that shitty movie the other day.” Satoru smirks.

@enchantedforest-network

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believemedarlin · 6 months

Text

The Perfect Man

Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader (3.9k words) Also available on AO3

Summary:

“You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”

“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.

Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued

***

A drunken night out with the girls leads to some interesting revelations.

***

“Let’s play Fuck, Marry, Kill.”

A round of groans sounded from the table, but Penelope Garcia was not to be dissuaded.

“Come on, ladies. It’ll be fun!”

Her best puppy dog eyes firmly in place, Penelope implored her friends and coworkers with a practiced look. You were holding strong until she brought out the big guns and pouted at you.

A mere ten seconds later you caved.

“Okay, fine,” You sighed. “But can we use kick instead of kill? I always hated that option. Why do you have to kill them when kicking would be just as effective in showing your lack of interest? No death required.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Penelope immediately agreed with a nod. “You know I’m a pacifist at heart.”

She turned to the other two women seated at the table, pout back in full force. JJ gave in first, patting Penelope’s hand with an indulgent smile and a nod.

Seeing that she was outnumbered, Emily shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll need another drink if we’re doing this. I haven’t played this since college.”

“I’ll get us all another round.” Penelope jumped to her feet to join her and they made their way to the bar, weaving through the other patrons.

It was a rare Friday night off and the women of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had decided to go out for a much-needed night of ladies-only fun and frivolity. They had happily left the guys to sort out their evenings and escaped the second the clock struck five.

They were all a few drinks in at this point, which is most likely the reason Penelope had suggested the game. She always got a bit playful when she drank.

They returned a few minutes later, fresh drinks in hand.

Once settled, Penelope leaned in, an eager smile on her face. “Okay. Fuck, Marry, Kick. Henry Cavill, Ben Barnes, Zachary Levi. And go!”

Emily took a sip of her drink and wasted no time in voicing her choices, followed by JJ and you. You took turns coming up with more and more outlandish options, and pleasantly spent the next hour drinking and laughing with your friends.

You had just finished giggling over Penelope’s reasoning behind her choosing to kick Willy Wonka and marry Jareth the Goblin King so she could enjoy a night with Conan the Barbarian when Emily leaned in with a smirk.

“I’ve got a good one. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid.”

The table erupted in a chorus of ooohs and laughter.

JJ bit her lip in thought. “Okay, since we know them personally and I’m a happily taken woman, I’m going to change mine to kiss, because it’s weird to say I want to fuck any of them. So, uh, I’ll go with kiss Morgan, marry Reid, and kick Hotch. But only barely, because I do not want him angry with me.”

“Easy,” Penelope chirped. “Fuck Morgan, marry Morgan, and kick Reid and Hotch.”

You, JJ, and Emily burst into laughter, with JJ swatting Penelope on the arm. “You can’t double up like that!”

“Can too! My game, my rules. Besides, it’s special circumstances with Morgan as an option.”

Emily snorted, then grinned. “Hmm. I think I’d go with fuck Morgan, marry Hotch, and kick Reid.”

All eyes then turned to you as you stared into your drink, taking entirely too long as you overthought the options.

Eventually, Emily cleared her throat and you looked up to see her watching you expectantly.

“What?” You grinned sheepishly with a shrug. “It’s harder than you’d think!”

The ladies teased you good-naturedly until you finally said, “Okay, okay! Um, I think…”

You blew out a breath in a long sigh. “Fuck Reid, marry Hotch, kick Morgan. No wait… Maybe fuck Hotch, marry Reid?”

Emily and JJ cackled while Penelope put on a fake offended air. “Why you gotta kick my beloved cinnamon hot chocolate Adonis not once, but twice? He’s the perfect man!”

"I mean, a lot of women would think that, yeah, but not me.”

Penelope gasped and pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. “Why, I never.”

You giggled with a shrug. “Sorry?”

“You’re forgiven.”

“What I want to know,” JJ chimed in with a mischievous grin, “is why you can’t decide between Reid and Hotch on who to marry?”

You buried your face in your hands to hide your blush. “I don’t know! Both seem like solid choices. I think they’d both make good husbands.”

Emily smirked. “Sure it wasn’t because you couldn’t decide which you’d rather fuck?”

Penelope and JJ burst into laughter again while you groaned into your hands.

“You all are menaces. I don’t know why I spend time with you.”

“Because we’re wonderful people and you love us.” Penelope teased.

“That’s debatable.” You mumbled.

“Oh, come on,” she leaned into your side and laid her head on your shoulder. “You know you adore us.” Penelope batted her eyes and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah, I do.”

She cheered and called for another round of drinks.

The game wound down and devolved into a rather extensive list of men and women that each of the ladies wouldn’t mind enjoying some personal one-on-one time with.

You had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the past few minutes, chin in hand and elbow on the table, your mind pondering on something Penelope had said earlier. Your voice took on a contemplative tone as you mused aloud, “You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”

“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.

Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued.

“Okay, just hear me out. Now, granted, everyone’s idea of the perfect man is different but for me… If we go by physical attributes first, you have to admit that each guy is objectively attractive on their own. I mean seriously, was it a prerequisite that everyone has to be outrageously good-looking to be a member of the team?”

The ladies heartily agreed with laughter and nods, but you gestured across the table to them. “I’m including you three in this too. Have you looked at yourselves? You’re all absolutely gorgeous.”

“Damn right, we are,” Emily exclaimed as she high-fived JJ.

You raised your glass to her and took a sip before expanding on your premise. “So by themselves, each man is handsome but combined…”

You tilt your head in thought. “For me, it would be Reid’s hair. I’ve always liked longer hair on a guy and have you seen those curls when he lets it grow out? And then add in Hotch and Rossi’s dark hair and … yeah. Next would be Morgan and Rossi’s facial hair. I don’t know about you ladies but I like a man with a bit of scruff, you know what I mean? Goatee or full beard or just a couple of days growth, hell even a good five o’clock shadow, as long as it’s maintained and not all scraggly, I like it. Oooh, remember when Hotch came back with a beard?

“Yeah,” you sighed, a bit more dreamily than you had intended, surely caused by the late hour and not the memory of a casually dressed, bearded Hotch. “Like that.”

All three ladies shared a knowing look, but you paid them no mind.

“Though there is something to be said about a freshly shaved face. It’s so soft…” You sighed again.

“And then there’s height.” You knew you were rambling, but with the alcohol fueling you, there was little chance of stopping you now. “They’re all at least 6 foot so the height difference is perfect for both cuddles and forehead kisses.”

At this, Emily snorted. “Forehead kisses?”

“Yes,” you snipped primly. “They are the pinnacle of non-lip-to-lip kisses and they are my favorite thing. They just make you feel so adored. Now shush.”

You shooed her and rested your chin back in your hand. “Let’s see… Eyes. Honestly, I think they all have lovely eyes. I’m not picky on eye color really but I think Hotch’s stand out the most to me. I mean, have you seen his eyelashes? It should be criminal for a man to have such beautiful eyelashes.”

Another round of nods and hummed agreements sounded from the table.

“You know,” you continue with barely a pause, “I’ve never been a fan of really buff dudes, which sorry Pen, but that’s kinda why poor Morgan got kicked twice.” You shrugged unapologetically at her.

“I’ve always preferred lean guys. Not scrawny but not bugling out his shirt, you know? Strong but not shoved in your face. But!” You sit straighter in your chair, index finger raised to emphasize your point. “That’s just looks. Personality-wise, I’m drawn to kindness first and our boys all have that in spades. And they each show it in different ways, but it’s always present.”

You met Penelope’s eyes. “And Morgan’s kindness absolutely overrides his excessive muscle mass. He’s honestly one of the kindest people I know, even if he’d deny it. He’s not humble about a lot of things, but he is about that.”

Your eyes dropped to the table as your finger ran along the wood grain. “I also like intelligence and while yes, first thoughts go to Reid, the others are all brilliant too. Like, Rossi is so wise! It seems like he always knows what’s going on with someone before anyone else, and always seems to know just what to say just when you need to hear it. And they each have strengths that I admire. I genuinely like each of them as a person and I’m proud to know them and am honored they consider me a friend. Honestly, I feel that way about all of you.”

“Aw!” Penelope sniffled. “That’s so sweet. We love you too, you know.”

You gave her hand a quick squeeze and took another sip of your drink.

“What about lips?”

You blinked at JJ. “Lips? I’m not sure. I don’t know that I look at them much.”

Emily tilted her head. “You seriously don’t look at men’s lips?”

“Not really? I mean, I notice smiles. And honestly, how did I not start with that? It’s usually one of the first things I notice about someone. Smiles make everyone look twice as attractive. Oh, and a sense of humor! Gotta love a man who can make you laugh.”

“This one is definitely Morgan,” Emily chimed in and you nodded in agreement while Penelope raised her glass.

“Absolutely. He always makes me laugh, but so do the others. Rossi is snarky, which I appreciate as a fellow snarker. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s made me hold back a laugh during a round table. Reid can be really funny, too. Especially when we’re making Star Trek or Doctor Who references that no one else gets. Except you, Pen, but you’re usually in your lair. And Hotch—”

“No,” Emily cut in. “No way you think he’s funny. The man barely smiles.”

You tsked and leaned in, your tone turning a bit haughty. “First of all, I think it’s a good thing that he holds those back because have you seen how handsome he is when he smiles? His whole face transforms and he has dimples. Dimples . It’s ridiculous and no one would be able to focus on work if he was blinding us with his smile all the time. And secondly, yes. He’s hilarious, actually. He has a dry sense of humor that gets me every time. And he is so straight-faced about it. I laughed embarrassingly loud once at something he said and I had to leave the room because I couldn’t stop giggling. And the man had the nerve to be smug about it later.”

You shook your head with exasperated fondness, not noticing the raised eyebrows and pointed looks the other ladies were sharing.

“Anyway,” You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “Morgan is my biggest supporter, Reid nerds out with me, Rossi gives the best advice, and Hotch makes me feel safe. All things that would attract me to someone. So, with their powers combined…” You spread your hands in a sweeping motion. “The perfect man.”

“Huh,” Penelope hummed. “You know, I kinda see it.”

“See?” You grinned triumphantly. “We really do work with amazing guys.”

A cry of ‘hear, hear’ sounded around the table and the four of you leaned in to clink glasses.

Emily settled back in her chair with a smirk, her eyes focused on you. “Okay, you waxed poetic about the guys. Now, what about us?”

You grinned. “You, my darling lady loves, all hold a special place in my heart. There’s no way I could choose. You are each the perfect woman.”

Another cheer went up and everyone downed their drinks, laughing merrily.

The outing wound down about half an hour later. You each stumbled your way outside, Emily and Penelope deciding to share a taxi.

You stood with JJ as you waved the other two goodbye; you waiting for your own taxi and JJ waiting for Will to pick her up.

“You know,” she said conversationally, her eyes on the street. “You mentioned Hotch quite a few times describing your perfect man.”

You blinked. “What? I did not.”

She turned to you with a wide grin. “Oh yes, you did. No denying it now.”

You sputtered, not sure how to reply.

She chuckled and laid a hand on your arm, just as your taxi arrived. “Seems to me like he ticks quite a few of the boxes for your perfect man.” She leaned in to whisper, “So what are you going to do about it?”

JJ winked as she stepped back to open the door of the car that pulled in behind your taxi and slid in. “Just think about it, okay?”

You nodded numbly, mechanically climbing into the back seat of the taxi while Will and JJ patiently waited to make sure you were safely on your way.

You mumbled out your address and barely noticed the drive home, arriving much sooner than expected, as your mind was focused on JJ’s words.

You shook your head as you entered your apartment, determined to think no more of it. It was just a silly statement born out of one too many drinks.

There was no way you thought of Hotch that way.

No way at all.

***

The rest of the weekend was miraculously quiet and work-free. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much time to yourself, so you took full advantage of it.

As days off always tended to do, they flew by too quickly and Monday morning arrived before you were ready for it. You greeted everyone when you entered the department, nodding to Rossi and waving at Morgan and Penelope as you settled in at your desk.

No new case had come in, so today would be an in-office day catching up on paperwork and caseloads.

You were productive throughout the day, completing most of the pending work assigned to you, and you were feeling quite accomplished with the diminishing stack in your inbox.

Only a few minutes remained in the workday when you stood from your chair, stretching your stiff back, and made your way up the stairs to Hotch’s office to drop off an armful of completed reports.

You knocked on his door, only having to wait a second before he bid you enter.

He was focused on the open file in front of him and he didn’t look up until you spoke. “These are ready for you to review, Hotch.”

His eyes shot up to meet yours before dropping to the folders in your arms. He gestured to the corner of his desk nearest you and went back to scribbling notes on the report. “You can just leave them there, thank you.”

You set them down next to another stack and grimaced. There were multiple bundles of files littering his desk. While in-office days were great for clearing your desk of work, it unfortunately always added to Hotch’s workload.

“Looks like everyone had similar offerings for you today. Will you be able to leave at a reasonable hour tonight? I’d be happy to help with anything if you need it.”

Hotch finished the line he was writing and looked up at you through his long lashes, a small, shy kind of smile curving his lips. His cheeks were just a touch pinker than usual and you blinked because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.

He looked almost bashful, a word you would never have associated with Aaron Hotchner.

But damn, was it a good look on him. He really was a handsome man, wasn’t he? Kind, funny, successful, and a great father. He was practically the perfect man.

You froze and blinked again at the realization.

“Oh, uh,” his deep voice broke you from your thoughts. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it covered. I shouldn’t be here too much longer.”

“Right, of course.” You nodded and prayed he couldn’t see the blush you knew was rapidly spreading across your face. “Well, good night, sir.”

You spun on your heel and opened the door, ready to flee as fast as your feet could carry you.

His low, murmured good night followed you out the door and you nearly shivered because holy hell, even his voice was attractive.

You quickly grabbed your things and nearly sprinted to the elevators, not wanting to stay one second longer around skilled profilers who could read you so easily, knowing they would spot your flushed cheeks instantly and want to know what caused them. Or worse, they’d already know, and that was not something you were ready to discuss with any of them at the moment.

You had fully intended on ignoring JJ’s words from Friday night, but after your reaction just now, you knew she was right.

Hotch was pretty damn close to fitting the idea of your perfect man.

Or maybe, the idea of your perfect man came from Hotch.

You sighed as you entered the thankfully empty elevator, finally admitting to yourself the truth that had been staring you in the face for longer than you’d ever care to admit.

You had it bad for Aaron Hotchner.

Oh, you were in so much trouble.

***

Aaron watched as you left his office, your face a delightful shade of pink.

His eyes followed as you rushed to your desk, snatched up your things, and darted out the door.

He hadn’t meant to overhear Prentiss and Garcia’s conversation that morning as they reminisced over their night out last Friday. He certainly hadn’t meant to linger when they mentioned you and your adorable—according to Garcia—rant about the perfect man. And he most certainly hadn’t meant to lean in rather eagerly when they whispered about just how many times his name had come up as an example during said rant.

He had been pleasantly surprised and somewhat stunned by the information. He’d never thought of himself as an ideal for the perfect man.

Sure, he supposed he had a few attributes that some women might find appealing. He had a successful career and tried to keep in shape, though that was more for his job than vanity.

But he never imagined that anyone would look at him and think that he was a paradigm of their perfect man. Least of all you.

You were a brilliant profiler, exceptional in the field and able to hold your own in a fight when needed, but you were also caring with the victims and their families. You were witty and kind and easygoing. You were someone who smiled freely and laughed readily and did your best to cheer and encourage the team on tough cases.

Not someone who would think of stoic, hardass Aaron Hotchner as the perfect man.

Still, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from drifting to the window of his office throughout the day, seeking you out.

He thought back to when you joined the BAU and how quickly you became not only an essential part of the team but a much-welcomed member of their little family. Everyone adored you and Aaron himself had to admit that you had wormed your way into his heart.

He loved the time he got to spend with you when the team got together to unwind after a case and the little moments of levity you all shared in between working. He recalled the times he managed to make you laugh and the occasions where he found himself chuckling as well. You were easy to talk to and more often than not, the two of you fell into conversation whenever everyone else was either asleep or preferred to be left alone on the jet going to and from cases.

He genuinely enjoyed your company and found himself wishing he could enjoy it more often.

His eyes wandered to the bullpen again, zeroing in on you almost immediately. Prentiss and Morgan were standing by your desk when one of them said something that made you laugh.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth opened to release an enchanting sound of delight. Aaron couldn’t look away and had to admit that you really were quite lovely. Inside and out.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat looking at you but knew it was longer than appropriate. He shook his head and forced himself to focus back on his work.

He managed to shove all thoughts of you from his mind for the remainder of the day until a soft knock sounded on his door late in the afternoon.

He didn’t bother to look up from the report he was notating after giving a gruff come in until he heard your voice.

Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes from darting up to meet yours before dropping them to the large stack of files in your arms.

He gestured for you to place them on the corner of his desk next to the ones Reid had deposited earlier and thought that would be his singular interaction with you for the day.

But then your caring side came out again and you sweetly offered to help him, a proposition that both filled him with fondness and nervousness.

After all his wayward thoughts about you throughout the day, he wasn’t sure if being in close proximity with you was a good idea or not.

Aaron looked up at you again, the late afternoon sun enveloping you, enhancing your features, and his only thought was that he’d been wrong earlier.

You weren’t just lovely. You were stunning.

In that moment, he was completely captivated by you and his thoughts ran rampant as he cataloged every minute detail of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your brilliance, and all the little things that made you you . Everything that endeared you to him.

But his thoughts came to a crashing halt when he realized that he was staring at you. He felt his face flush and he stammered as he gently declined your help.

You bid him a good night, but Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the spreading blush on your cheeks. It kept his attention until you were out of sight.

He blinked and dropped his eyes back to the forgotten report in front of him, a slow smile creeping across his face.

He may not have meant to overhear the conversation that caused him to think about you all day, but he was starting to be glad he had. It seemed it was all he needed to face a few truths he had been in denial about for a long while now.

He was completely and utterly smitten with you.

Now, he just had to decide what to do about it.

Aaron sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jj jareau #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds fanfiction

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miley1442111 · 1 month

Text

no promises- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: aaron had to save you.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, guns, trauma, a kid is hurt, talk of abductions, talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, talk of surgery, talk of choking, etc.

You hadn't even realised he was behind you until you felt the familiar but unwelcome sting of a bullet in your arm. You screamed out, falling to the ground in pain as he ran off.

Get up. Something inside you said. What if he gets to the team? To Aaron?

You got up.

Running after him, you ignored the sounds of the rest of the team on comms and continued, following his footsteps. You can’t shoot him, you reminded yourself. He’s the only one who knows where the kid is.

You caught a glimpse of his hand, turning left. “Put your hands up, put the gun down,” you pointed your own at him, the young girl in his hands as he pointed a gun at her. “Put the gun down now.”

He didn’t respond, a sick smile on his face. He’d been abducting children, ones that eerily reminded you of your little sister. Your eyes were closing and you could practically feel the blood flowing out of you, he’d definitely hit you somewhere bad. Yet, you had to save this girl, even if it was the last thing you ever did.

“And why, pray tell, should I?” He asked, a disgusting smirk on his dirty face. “Do you not wish her the same fate as yourself?”

“No,” You grunted out, still ignoring the screams from the other side of the comms. No one had followed you into the hidden door in the back of the warehouse, leading to a maze of endless rooms and confusing signs. “She’s a little girl, take me instead.”

His interest was piqued.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron felt sick to his stomach. “Take me instead.” was ringing in his ears as he scoured the warehouse, desperately trying to find him. He felt everything was happening in slow motion, he could taste the copper of his own blood, he’d been biting his lips. His anxiety was taking over. You hadn’t spoken on the comms for a whole 20 minutes, you could’ve already been gone. He’d heard gunshots, you could be dead and he’d be able to do nothing.

Nothing.

“Sir,” He heard a sobbing child, he whipped his head around and saw her, the little girl the unsub had last taken, hsi heart stopped. Immediately he wrapped her up in his arms, allowing her to cry into his chest. When his ears finally focused in, he could hear her soft apologies, he pulled his head away, adrenaline and genuine dread running through his body.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he promised her, cutting her off. “Look at me- you have nothing to apologise for, at all.”

“But the woman-” she cried and his face hardened. Damnnit.

“We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

“She was bleeding!” she cried into his chest, sobbing harder.

“She’ll be ok, she’s strong,” He whispered, quelling her tears and after a few minutes she slowly allowed the exhaustion to overtake her and fell asleep against him. In that time, he’d let his own tears fall, you were hit. You were missing.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron walked through the confusing maze with a SWAT team hot on his heels. Finding there was one exit and entrance, you and the unsub still had to be in there. Spencer was busy mapping out the warehouse and maze through small drone cameras they’d sent out around 40 minutes after your comms were shut off but Aaron couldn’t wait any longer. You were missing.

They’d found your earpiece on the floor beside your gun and a trail of blood. The trail of blood followed on the wall, and they silently moved along it. Everyone held their breath as they kicked open a door, just praying to find the unsub and you, alive.

They found what they were looking for, just not in the conditions they wanted. You were on a surgery table, a heart monitor showed that you were barely alive. Aaron wanted to scream. He set his sights on the unsub, an unfamiliar rage settling in him. His hands were around the asshole's neck before he even knew what he was doing, and it took three officers to pull him off.

He blacked out after that. Spencer said he went with you in the ambulance, and waited for 14 hours while you had emergency surgery.

You were alive. You had 12 broken ribs, a broken arm, shattered hip-bone, some facial wounds from when the unsub had beaten you up, and you’d lost a kidney and almost a lung. But you were alive.

Aaron walked into your hospital room the second the nurse said he could. He saw you sitting there, being fed jello by a nurse and he smiled. You were still alive.

You looked at him and smiled to the best of your abilities. “Hi,” you croaked out.

“I love you,” he said, taking your right hand. Surprise spread across your features and a warmth set in your stomach.

“I love you too.”

“Never do that again,” he said with bated breath. “I think you’ve taken years off my life with the stress.”

“No promises,” you joked and he smiled. “Now feed me my jello.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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hyperfixiation-station · 3 months

Note

🥺 hi. I get so anxious asking for requests. So I’m sorry if it’s weird. But could I please please Pleaseee get a ghost x fem reader. Hurt to comfort. They were on a mission and she’s there for medic help. Not even to fight. But she got taken by the bad guys. And she gets tortured for information that she doesn’t have. And they play mind games with her. Making her think that they will never come rescue her. They really fully break her body and break her mind by the end of it. But before she thinks she’s about to finally die, Ghost and the others come and save her. And it’s about how the only person she feels safe with after all that is ghost and just him helping her heal and get back to the woman she was before all this. I want it to hurt my soul. 😭 but then there’s hope at the end of it bc they have each other.

My Heart Will Go On

Don't be, I love when people ask me things, and I looooved this request so much!!! I too like to torturehave fun with my OC's :)

TW: Blood, torture, manipulation

Pairing: GhostxReader

Part 2

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all, actually. It was just another mission, another day on the job. You went out with the boys as usual, their assigned medic as theyghost refused to work with anybody else. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was your soft demeanor, your gentle touch, the way you never judged himthem for anything hethey did. But whatever it was, they liked you, and so with them you went.

You hung back at the evac point, also as usual. Sitting in the truck, first aid kit on your lap, a comm in your ear as you listened to your boys and made sure they were all okay. It was a tense fight, gunshots and pained grunting filling your headset. You were on edge, rocking back and forth as you listened for your que to come in. In fact, you were so focused on the comms that you didn’t even notice the danger you were in until it was too late.

Your first cue something was wrong was when the comms went silent. The sounds of battle filled your ears for hours before getting cut off abruptly. Your hand shot to the comm link, fiddling with it as you frantically tried to reconnect, worried something was wrong.

“Ghost, do you copy?”

“Ghost?”

“Price?”

“Gaz?”

“Can you hear me??” Your voice got more and more panicked as you got no response. You yanked the headset off and shrugged your vest on, kit in hand as you slid out of the truck.

Your second clue something was wrong was when you looked up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at your face. You didn't even have time to ask ‘what’ before everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello, princesa.” You blink hard as the blindfold is removed from your eyes. The light is blinding, the splitting headache you got from being pistol whipped only intensifying under the harsh lights.

“Who are you?” You manage after a moment, eyes slowly focusing on the man in front of you. He is large, easily over six foot, and built like an absolute unit. His face is covered by a black balaclava, though his scarred, tattooed forearms are on display.

“Don’t play stupid with me.” His voice is deep and smooth, and if you weren’t in the situation you are in you would have asked him to keep talking.

“‘M not! I don't-"

“Don’t lie to me Princesa. I don’t like liars.” A shiver runs down your spine as his tone darkens.

“But I’m-”

“Ah ah lovie, I am one asking questions here.”

“I wasn’t ask-”

“SHUT UP!” You flinch back at the drastic change in tone, the sound sending bolts of pain through your skull.

“Oh sorry Princesa, did that hurt?” Seriously, you are going to get whiplash from his bi-polar personality, “Forgot you have concussion. Let's get you Advil for that and then we see if you talk, yeah?"

You watch with blurry vision as he leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound sends waves of agony through your pounding head, and by the time you can focus again he's back.

All it takes is one well placed blow to the head, an attempt to get you to pay attention, and you're out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know anything I swear! Please! I don't know anything!” The sobs tear raggedly out of your throat, already raw from screaming. Your voice is scratchy and broken, but still you can't stop begging.

“I don’t know anything” You sob. Those words, I don’t know, had become your motto over the past few daysweeks(?)

“Oh Princesa. I know.” He croons, running a finger down your bruised face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time was meaningless. Has it been 2 days since you were captured? Two weeks? Months? You don’t know. Your meals come at staggered times, and your captors never come at a routine time. The lights turn on and off at staggered times, nothing in a set pattern, a system created to mess with your mind.

Not that you know that. This wasn’t the kind of life you lived. You were a medic for heaven's sake. Your hands had been built to mend, to fix, to heal. Not to clutch at broken bones, to scratch against cement, to be chained and broken. You arewere a gentle creature, not designed for this world of torture and terror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They no come for you." You moan as the words pound through your skull, nearly unintelligible.

"Wh'...y'say?" You mumble, voice scratchy and broken.

"You're friends, Princesa. They are no coming for you." He sighs and moves next you, prodding your side with his steel-toed boot, "You are replaceable, your skills are easily replicated, they no spend time and resources to find a simple medic."

"They…'ll c'me." You wheeze, refusing to belive that Price, that Gaz, that Soap, that Ghost, would just...leave you.

He laughs in response, digging his toe into your side until your gasping in pain.

"We shall see, Princesa. We shall see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t built for this. Weren’t built to recognize the manipulation, the mind games. Weren’t built to survive the two-face man who was reshaping your brain. The man who was your greatest source of pain, but also your only friend. The man that flayed your flesh open, but soothed and bandaged you when it was all over. This man, who was slowly becoming the only thing you could trust in your unstable world. He may bring you unbearable pain, but he brought you comfort too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That looks bad, Princesa." The man lightly touches the bones sticking out of your forearm. You whine in pain, clutching it to your chest. He chuckles, wiping your blood off on the cell floor.

"Let's get that fixed up, yeah?" His voice is soft, and gentle, and the nicest thing you've heard in a loooong time. His touch is the same, gentle caresses of bruised and broken skin, revolting and appealing at the same time.

Oh, it's utter agony as he sets and stitches your arm with no pain killers. You scream, back arching, lungs heaving, body seizing.

But after? Oh it's heaven. He holds you, cradling you against his warm body, making sure you don't go into shock, telling you you're a good girl, and that you've made him proud. You hate yourself for it, but you can't help but preen at the praise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He brings you a calendar. One month. It’s been one month since you got taken.

“It’s been over a month.” He says, a deep voice tinged with pity, “and no sign of your…friends. I’d give up being rescued if I were you, because they clearly have.” You can barely hear him as you stare at the paper in his hands, 31 days marked off with big, bright X’s. 31 days that you have been trapped here. 31 days that your squad…hadn’t come for you. Is he right? Are they really not coming? Did Ghost really give up on you? Are you-

“Ay Princesa, I even did what you asked. I sent your squad pictures and videos that even the greenest tech member could pull some coordinates from, but nothing. It’s like I said. Your ‘friends’ don’t care for you. They are not coming for you. I am your only friend in this place. Tell me, who bandages your wounds, who feeds you, who makes sure your living space is comfortable?”

“Y-you do.” You whisper uncertainty, “But…you also hurt me, don’t you?”

“Oh Princesa, I wouldn’t hurt ya if y’ would just listen. It not torture if you're disobedient. It's just…punishment.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, “And you just back-talked me. Do you remember what happens when you try to give me sass?”

"I get…punished." You mumble, cheeks flushing with shame.

"Obviously, you fucking idiot. I mean how."

"I…you…I have to do affirmations."

"Look at that, y'r gettin' it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Say it again." He snarls. You sit in front of a mirror, face bruised, bleeding, and swollen.

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends…'re n-no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'v'ble…I 'm r'pl'c'…able." You whisper for the hundredth time.

"Again."

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

"Again!"

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

He makes you keep going, repeating those 4 sentences until you literally can't make sound anymore, a fact he tests by seeing how much it takes to get you to scream. You pass out before he gets anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ghost?"

"Simon?"

"Please."

"Why are you not coming for me?"

just FYI if the timing seems disjointed and the speech is wierd, that is intentiweird,

anyways I hope you liked it!!!!

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pedros-mustache · 1 year

Text

good thing

word count: ~4k

warnings: smut (18+ only). also: established relationship, angst, non-planned pregnancy, implied sex-for-pay, age gap, language, x fem!reader

a/n: idk you guys. he is—as my middle schoolers would say—Him. it was bound to happen that i would write a pregnancy fic about this man. i will admit that i am weirdly nervous about sharing this fic so please be kind, friends✨🤗

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

“Whose?”

“Not yours.”

The room falls quiet, swollen with the ugly reality of your revelation. Your heart hangs in your chest. A clock on the shelf ticks each miserable second he does not respond.

Joel drums his fingers on the faded arm of the couch, his face blanketed by an unreadable shroud. He stares out the window, and you know he is thinking—wondering—calculating—when this happened. You cannot tell if he is hurt or angry or merely confused, but you can tell he is running the numbers. Running the myriad of possibilities of how you got knocked up under his watch. You could tell him—spill your slimy secrets on the creaking apartment floor like a parishioner at confession—but what good would that do? What would that change? Truth revealed or not, the fact remains:

You are pregnant, and whatever is blossoming between you and Joel, whatever tender flower has broken through cracked soil to find the light of day, the baby is not his. More than that, this development, this situation, marks the end of your budding connection. That glittering future you once saw with him, the future of safety and security at his side? Snipped at the bud, crushed beneath the heel of practicality. You can go no further. Not with him.

Across the apartment, the girl—Ellie—shuffles side to side. You glance at her over your shoulder and watch a wave of discomfort twist her smooth features. You sigh, dropping your arms from their position crossed over your chest.

“Come on, Joel. Now isn’t the time to ask questions. When Tess gets back with the guns, you and her have got to get Ellie out of here.”

Maybe it is something in your resolute tone of voice, or maybe it is reality crashing landing at his feet, but your comment breaks Joel’s attention from the window. He stands, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. He faces you, and that unreadable shroud falls from his face. He is angry, that much is clear.

He points to the apartment door. “Out.”

The blood in your veins slows, turned sluggish with the weight of your sudden anxiety. “What?” you breathe.

Shaking his head, his free hand comes to rest on his hip. You know the stance: he does it every time you insist on sharing tea in the morning or rubbing the tension from his sore muscles. He’s irritated, but not outraged. That alone is a reassuring sign.

“Not you. Her.” He gestures to Ellie. “Go wait in the hall.”

You start to protest. FEDRA on the move, Fireflies dispersed, night coming quickly—time is wasting. There’s no time for you and him and figuring this out, if that is what he wants. That ship has sailed and sunk beneath a bitter ocean of what-could-have-beens. There is only time for here and now and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

“Joel, I don’t—”

But his face softens as it so rarely ever does. He pulls his stare from the girl and turns his brown eyes—those damn puppy dog eyes—on you, and you are helpless. “Please,” he whispers.

The clock on the shelf ticks louder. Maybe you can steal a few minutes...

Without turning to face Ellie, you cock your head at the door in a silent dismissal. She releases an annoyed huff, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath about fucking adults before slamming the door behind her.

“Delightful child,” you murmur.

“She could save us all.”

Scoffing, you press your palms to the chipped table in the center of the apartment. The wood veneer is smooth, cool to the touch. It soothes your racing heart, even if only for a moment. “You’re starting to sound like Tess.”

Joel remains quiet—perhaps thoughtful, maybe biding his time—but his fixed stare carves gaping holes in the side of your head. You can feel him rooting through your mind like a scavenger. He is wondering when you slipped away long enough, when you found the time. He is replaying the moments in the market when you spoke to any other man and held his gaze for too long. He sifts through your shared memories with frantic fingers, and you can feel him—you know him well enough—to sense the panic swirling in his chest.

But for the first time in the three years you have known him, you do not have it in you to quiet the storm in his mind. You have your own tempest to battle.

Finally, he speaks. “You gonna look at me?”

The slow, deep timbre of Joel’s voice catches you off guard. You expected anger, shouting, frustration that boils over into rage. But Joel has always been gentle with you. Beneath the brusk of necessity, he is a true Southern gentleman. Just like his mama raised him. And even now, standing on the edge of the crumbling cliff where you have placed yourself, he treats you with nothing but respect.

God, you could love him. You really could. If only things were different.

You look away from the table and find him a step closer. Not close enough to touch. He is too angry for that; it is written in the shadow on his brow. But he is close enough that you can see the concern etched in the lines on his face. His frown is not at you, it is for you, and that makes looking at him all the harder.

“When did this happen?”

You shrug, eyes skittering to the floor. “I told you. It doesn’t matter. The details don’t matter.”

“Don’t they?” He has both hands on his hips now, his head tilted as he tries to catch your wandering gaze. “Come on, girl. Answer me. You owe me that.”

He’s right: you do owe him. You owe him so many times over it is impossible to count. Still, if he knew—if he truly knew... There would be no hope of repairing the damage you would cause. You would only split the torn earth on which you stand wider. The crumbling cliff would give way, and you would fall to your doom.

He reaches out. His fingers skim the rough hem of your flannel, his flannel. “Tell me, baby.” Those three words, choked out and brittle with desperation, snap your resolve in two.

You will lay your cards on the table, spread yourself across the sacrificial altar, bear your soul. For him—always for him.

Inhaling, you stand straight, bracing your socked-feet on the floor. You meet his eyes. If you’re going to go down for the decisions of your past, you’ll do it with your chin held high. Your father didn’t raise a quitter.

“Remember that battery, the one for the radio? The boots, the jacket?”

Joel nods. “For my birthday.”

You nod. “For your birthday.”

He holds your unwavering stare. The clock ticks: tick, tick, tick. Understanding rises like a slow tide over his face. You can’t bear to watch it. You look away. Shame gnaws at your stomach like a hungry wolf, and you press a hand to your belly.

“You didn’t—” He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth curling. “You didn’t have to...”

“I wanted to. For you.” Something catches in your throat. You circle the table, placing the furniture between his growing emotion and your growing regret. Fuck, you should have just stayed quiet. “So you could have one good thing.”

“But now you’re—”

“Pregnant.”

Tearing a hand through his hair, Joel twists. He faces the door, and you wonder if he is dreaming of escape just like you. You wonder if he is dreaming of a world where doves still fly and babies live past six months and men and women can afford to build a life together.

He presses a closed fist to his mouth. Light bounces off the cracked face of his wrist watch. “What are you going to do?”

You answer without hesitation. “Keep it.”

His neck turns so fast you swear you hear it crack. You would joke about his age if the situation weren’t so dire. Two nights ago you joked that he is old enough to be your uncle, maybe even your dad; he fucked you good when you said that, just to prove you wrong. That levity feels far away now, impossible to grasp should you even dare try.

“The likelihood of survival—”

“Is slim. For me and the baby, I know. But I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve even prayed about it. And I—” You blink away the warm tears rising to blur your vision. “I want this.”

“Why?”

Why? What a simple question. What a loaded answer. You don’t know where to begin. But he looks at you with such earnestness, such a craving to understand, that you have to at least try.

“I want a husband,” you say. When he frowns in confusion, you push onward, the words rising to your tongue like a sermon. “I want a child and a home. A life I can build and call my own. I may never have a husband or a true home, but with this child, no matter how it came to be…” You give a pitiful shrug of your shoulders. “I need something more, Joel. Something more than simply living to die.”

After a moment, when your words have settled like dust on a crowded roadway, Joel motions to your stomach. He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can—can I?”

“Yes.” You release the word on a stolen breath.

Rounding the table, Joel keeps his focus glued to your abdomen. His chest rises and falls, deep inhale after shallow exhale. He stands before you, a giant amongst men, his fingers shaking as he unbuttons the three lower buttons of his flannel. He brushes the fabric aside, and when your stomach is bare before him, he swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs as though he, too, feels a lump lodged in his throat. He smooths the palm of his hand over the slight bump at your womb. Barely there, blink and you miss it, but unmistakable once noticed.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see,” he murmurs. His thumb massages your ever-stretching skin, back and forth, back and forth. His warm breath fans your face as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“Because you didn’t want to.”

You pass your fingers through the graying hair at his temples and study the way his eyelashes fan his cheekbones. Little moments, you think, to be tucked away in your heart once this is all over and he is gone.

“When Kate was pregnant, I knew. Sarah... I could feel her...”

Your chin trembles, your fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know... I know...”

“A baby. In this world. I can’t remember the last time I—”

Without warning, he cuts his own thought short and slowly lowers himself to his knees. He presses one hand to the small of your back, the other still massaging the bump of your stomach. You hold your breath as he leans forward and touches your bump with his forehead. He whispers something, something you cannot hear and you suspect is not for you, and then he is standing. He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and when you meet his eyes, you see the world.

“Sugar, you are my good thing.”

I wanted to. For you. So you could have one good thing.

His words—your words—ring loud in your ear, and you choke on a sob as he lowers his mouth to yours. He kisses you like the rain kisses dry land. You are parched, cracked and withered from the fear of this moment, but with his touch, he waters your aching heart. He is eager, holding you close, cradling your jaw with the wide expanse of his hand. Never before, not in the year of sharing his bed, has he kissed you with such devotion coating his lips. You could drown in it.

You tear your mouth away long enough to look over your shoulder. The door to the apartment remains shut, a measly separation between you and the outside world. “The girl—”

Joel shakes his head, already working on the remaining buttons of your flannel. “She doesn’t matter.” He kisses your neck, once, twice, creating a wet trail to your earlobe. “Not right now.”

“Okay.” You turn back to him, your face softening as you catch his dark eyes.

He nudges your nose with the end of his own. “Okay.”

Words dissipate. Like fresh dew beneath the morning sun, the need for talking disappears under the weight of all that is and was and could be. There is nothing more to say—not aloud, not right now—but there is much, oh so much, your body can say for you.

You kiss Joel with a fierceness you have not felt since the first time he laid his hands upon you. You are desperate for him, desperate to tell him just why you did what you did, and how much you need him, want him, fuck—maybe even love him. You part your lips to allow him access, and you cling to his arms, your nails biting the flesh beneath his denim shirt. He hisses when you bite his lower lip, the hand still resting in the small of your back pushing you closer to his warmth. You tangle your arms around his shoulders, holding him closer, closer, as close as he can get without forcing him to merge into your own skin.

With a quiet grunt, he fists his hand in the hair at the back of your head and wrenches to the side. You gasp, eyes widening as he flattens his tongue against your pulse point. He sucks your skin, biting gently, before releasing your neck with a wet pop. You whimper—even as he takes your chin in his fingers again and seals his mouth to yours.

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink fully into the kiss. You do not know what the future holds or what will become of you and the child within. All you know is that here, in the now, in the present, Joel kisses you, and sweeps his tongue across your tongue, and runs his hand down the inside of your jeans to cup your ass. And for right now, in the here and the present, you are okay and you are safe and the risk of being with him is worth the reward.

He squeezes the flesh of your ass again, and you shake yourself free of any wayward thinking. Just him—just you—just now.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers against your lips. “Mine.”

You nod, and through laboring breaths, you confirm what has always been the truth. “Yours.”

It is a backwards, lopsided dance to the only bed in the apartment. He collapses to the edge, and you straddle his thigh as you kiss him. His broad hands run the course of your body, up and down, front and back. He massages your breasts through the paltry fabric you call a bra, pausing long enough to tweak a nipple hard enough you whine. He chuckles, leans forward, sucks the offended nub through the covering. You go to shrug off his flannel, but Joel stops you with a hand to your arm.

“No.” His eyes roam from your face to your shoulders to your peaked nipples and finally, the swollen womb above your center. “Keep it on.”

He leans back on his palms as you unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. The zipper of his jeans strains against his growing erection. You peel your underwear off and face him with a smirk.

“You’re overdressed.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Maybe.”

“We should fix that.”

He waves his hand in invitation. “Be my guest.”

Biting your lower lip to conceal a grin, you pounce, zealous for him as much as he is for you. His clothes come off in quick succession until you are both naked save for his flannel hanging loose around your shoulders. He pauses then, a second, maybe two, his hand poised against the side of your neck. His eyes dart between yours, his lips parted, words he dare not say resting on the tip of his tongue.

“I know, baby.” You put one hand on his shoulder, his warm, tan skin a comfort against the chill in the room. You reach out and grip his hard cock with your opposite hand, and when he winces in pleasure, you brush your knuckles over the hair on his jaw. “I know.”

Joel allows you to stroke him, a rare occurrence in your repertoire of fucks. What is normally a frenzied connection in the dark, moments stolen before the light of day brings reality crashing back, is turned slow by the knowledge that things are different now. Things cannot be as they once were, no matter what the future may bring. So you stroke his cock, spit in your hand, and stroke it faster. Up and down, until he is pulsing in your hand and weeping from the tip. He drops to his back on the bed, his face buried in his hands as you touch him.

But then you pull away.

Joel removes his hands from his face. He stares at you, a flash of annoyance brightening his eyes. “What—”

“Shh.” You plant both hands on his sturdy chest as you swing your leg over his hips. “Walls are thin.”

Gripping the base of his cock, you run your dripping warmth over his tip. You hover above him, eyes rolling back in your head as you tease yourself. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body, and you grit your teeth to keep from moaning. Joel grabs your hips, but he does not force you down. No, he waits until you are ready. He waits until you position his cock at your entrance and begin the slow descent to heavenly madness.

You suck in a deep breath as his cock stretches you open. He fits snug in your core, like he was crafted just for you. When you have adjusted to his girth, you move your hands to grip his arms. You shift your knees, lifting your hips up before descending again. Over and over, a smooth, unchanging rhythm.

You are in no hurry to find release. For once this fuck is more than finding a shot of pleasure amidst the cruel darkness of the world. You want this to last and you want this to feel good. You need this imprinted upon your mind, locked in the secret place of your heart.

But you and he both can only take the slowness for so long.

Joel soon resumes his position of dominance, as is custom when his need builds. You allow it because you crave it. His breadth and strength and command shields you from danger in the outside world, but you crave it in bed too, when you can allow that breadth and strength and command to slam the fear from your mind.

He slides an arm around your waist and flips you to your back, keeping you snug beneath him. He gives a few experimental thrusts before he kisses you—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. He leans back and exposes your body to the yellow light of the room. He trails his hand down your sweaty chest. His fingers dance over your bump, hovering there as if in prayer, before finding your swollen clit. You gasp, hips lifting upward, as he rubs you in circle after circle. He brings you to the edge before pulling away and gripping your shins with his hands. He pushes forward, and you are bent in half, completely at his mercy.

Holding your knees to your chest, he picks up the pace. He plows into you, teeth gritted, lips pulled back in a snarl. He watches his rigid length split you apart, thrust after thrust. On some level, you know he is staking his claim. He drives into you with such force, with such feral carnality, you know there is some part of him that just wants to mark his territory. Reclaim what is rightfully his. You let him because it is true. You belong to him, Joel Miller, not the man who planted his seed in you and walked away. Always and forever—his—your purpose.

You slap your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out in delicious agony. You feel stretched and full and electric all at once.

“That’s it.” Joel releases your shins but presses his chest to your legs. Your hips lift, swallowing him to the hilt. “Take me—fuckin’—good.”

The pressure in your core builds. Light dances at the fringes of your touch. You close your eyes, latching on to the feeling.

Leaning back, Joel swats your hip. “Open your eyes.” He withdraws his cock far enough to slam into you with more force, his tip angled against your most sensitive spot. “Look at me.” He swats your ass again.

Dutifully, you peel your eyes open. You look at him—into his eyes, his soul—as he fucks you.

You burst like the skin of a ripe grape. It is violent, sudden, earth-shattering. You convulse beneath him, and the tremors wracking your frame are enough to send him over the edge. He grabs the curve of your waist with one hand, lurching forward to catch himself on his forearm above your head. He swallows his groan of pleasure, managing to barely release a muffled whimper. His warmth oozes from your core and stains the bed sheets beneath.

He remains tucked inside of you until you are forced to push him away. A cramp in your leg demands attention, and you rub the blasted muscle until the pain has subsided. You return to his side, to his sweaty body, to his arm that slips beneath his flannel and lays beneath your back. He rolls to his side to face you.

The truth of your situation looms like a storm cloud at the edge of the room. He can see it; you can see it. You must acknowledge it before the here and now is upon you and you have no plan with which to fight it.

“What are we gonna do?” You hold his forearm, thumb brushing the bone of his wrist. His hand is warm and heavy on your cheek, his eyes married to yours.

He does not hesitate. “I’ll keep you safe. Both of you. All of you.” He smooths the sweat-plastered hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You nod because Joel Miller always keeps his promises. Whatever he says is true.

He relaxes his hold on your face as he shifts onto his back. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing even. You glance at him and the evening light that cuts his face in angular shadows.

“Hey, Joel?”

He opens one eye, peers at you in expectation.

You smile—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. “You’re my good thing, too.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #hbo the last of us

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