#not safe for simpers

[softly-writes]

You’re in my spot, Compton. I need Sgt. Lipton to come check on me. He’s My HBO Husband.

Pls. Or Speirs.

Or Gunny….

Or Nate…. You were there for me last time…

I don’t know. Anything to keep from crying.

I need a fucking hug right now.

I can’t - I can’t go through this again.

[pathologicalreid]

the archer | S.R.

in which a trip to your hometown leads to an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angst

content warnings: normal cm violence/death. mentions of sexual assault and physical assault. mentions of miscarriage and dv. arson/fires. please take care of yourself while reading <3.

word count: 5.96k

a/n: if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, the US hotline is 800-799-7233. be well and be safe.

can you see right through me?

Emily had called you into her office fifteen minutes before the briefing began to let you know that the case was in your hometown. “There are some things that may come to light in a small town, and I wanted to let you know that you can stay behind if you need to,” she told you, having shut the blinds to her office to give you the most privacy she could.

Giving it a moment, you thought about it before you met her eyes, “if someone tries to say something, I’d rather be there to clear things up than let them say anything.” You wiped your clammy palms on your plants before standing up, “and besides, who better to work on victimology than someone who knows the town.”

You stepped out of the office, holding the door open for Emily before the two of you made your way to the roundtable room.

The two victims had been killed a week apart, they were both women who you had gone to school with. The first was in your graduating class, Victoria Reynolds, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The second was a year ahead of you, Melanie Baylor, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The team had been called in by the lead detective on the case, Charlie Platten, and he had likely made the call without telling the police chief.

It had already been three days since the second body was recovered, and Emily didn’t want to waste any more time. You left the roundtable room to grab your go-bag, smiling when you felt a familiar presence next to you. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, leaning against your desk while you reached underneath it for your bag.

Stepping in front of him, you looked up at him, “I’m okay, Spence.” You plopped your go bag on top of your desk, “it’ll be okay,” you whisper.

“And if at any point it’s not,” he prompted, placing a hand on your waist.

You simpered up at him, “You’ll be the first person I go to, love.”

He reached over and grabbed your bag off of your desk, carrying it to where the rest of the team is waiting for the elevator. “I’ll admit, I am interested in seeing your hometown,” he told you, letting you step into the elevator before him.

“Yeah, Y/N, maybe you can show us some of your old haunts once we solve the case,” Luke chimed in from the back of the elevator.

Laughing breathily, you turned your head to face Luke, “Do I really strike you as the kind of person to have ‘old haunts’, Alvez?”

A few of your team members chuckle. You faced forward, wondering how long it would be before one of them saw through you. When working with profilers, it was always a risk.

'cause all of my enemies started out friends

Emily sent you and Luke to the latest crime scene while she and Spencer set up at the precinct. JJ and Matt met with the latest victim's family while Tara and Rossi met with the medical examiner. Your stomach felt unsettled as soon as the plane landed, you had a bad feeling about this case. Spencer tried to ask you what was going on with you, but you just brushed him off.

You would tell him. After this case was over and you went home, you would tell Spencer everything. He deserved that.

“Did you know her?” Luke asked, using a gloved hand to inspect a shard of glass he found on the concrete.

Blinking rapidly, you snapped out of your stupor, “Melanie? Yeah, she was a year ahead of me in school. I graduated with Victoria though.” You used the toe of your boot to clear some dirt off of what looked like some sort of plaque. “I wasn’t all that close with either of them, but in a town this small, you kind of know everyone,” you explained.

Standing back up and walking back over to Luke, you looked at the building, it’s an abandoned factory on the edge of town. “Is there any significance to this building?”

“It was a functioning factory in the eighties,” you explained, looking at the vines growing up the side of it. “This business was the entire economy of the town, when the factory went down, so did the town.”

Luke nodded, taking a step back and eyeing the entire decrepit building. “And the church? Where the first body was found.”

You pursed your lips, “Only church in town, I was baptized there, when it burned down people had nowhere else to go, so they stopped believing.”

“How did the fire start?” He asked, turning the knob on the factory door, and looking surprised when it opened.

You shrugged, “lightning strike, I thought. I wasn’t much of a believer, especially once my mom died.”

Alvez nodded in understanding, “Would you say that both of these locations are important to the town and its history?”

Nodding, you followed Luke back to the SUV, leaning back in the passenger seat as you mentally prepared yourself for the scene your arrival at the precinct was about to cause.

When you got there, you immediately spotted the police chief ripping the lead detective, Charlie, a new one outside the front door. He saw you and did a double take, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Sir, we’re members of the BAU, our-“ Luke started explaining, obviously confused at the chief’s combative nature.

He held up a hand, “I wasn’t talking to you, agent.” Turning to face you, “You don’t show your face at home, leaving in the middle of the night ten years ago and now you’re what? A big bad FBI agent?”

You stiffened, pushing your shoulders back as you faced him. Stand tall, stay strong. “It wasn’t the middle of the night, and the FBI is only big and bad to the people who deserve it, Frank.”

The man in front of you scoffed, “I’m talking to your supervisor, you’re not working on this case.” He pushes past you, causing you to stumble back against the wall.

“What was that about? Who was that guy?” Luke asked, looking at you as you got your bearings back before walking into the precinct.

Bowing your head, you grumbled, “You just met my father.” At that moment, you were glad to be facing away from him, because you weren’t sure you could face any of it.

You’re still the newest member of the BAU, technically being a profiler but Emily pulled you in to help with public communications, since the old unit chief had been handling it along with Garcia, Emily did the same. When Spencer went to prison, she found she needed extra help, so you were snagged from your cozy office in sex crimes and sent to the BAU.

You fit in well with everyone, and you never really felt the need to prove yourself. Even taking the initiative to write letters to Spencer, because you didn’t want to be a stranger to him when he came back. So, when you met face-to-face last year, he thanked you. When you kissed him eight months ago, you both agreed to move slowly.

Seven months ago, he showed up at your door and told you he loved you.

Emily gave you an understanding look when she saw you walk into the police station, she, of course, knew everything about your situation.

“We don’t have enough for any sort of geographic profile yet,” Spencer said, standing in front of a whiteboard with a map over it, along with pictures of the two victims. He turned as soon as he saw you, smiling in a silent greeting. You winked in response, sitting down in the office chair next to him.

Luke stood in front of you, blocking your view of the whiteboard, “What do you mean that was your father? Why wouldn’t you say that your dad was the chief of police here?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “I may share DNA with the man, but I haven’t seen Frank Burris since I was twenty years old.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? Did she tell you?” Luke asked Spencer, who was still looking at the whiteboard, entirely unbothered.

“What did you find at the crime scene?” Emily asked, effectively ending Luke’s questioning. You had no idea if she had heard any of the previous conversation, but either way, you were grateful for the change in subject.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and faced her, “The dump sites are all places that are former symbols of the town, maybe the unsub wants to further desecrate these locations.” Emily nodded, prompting you to continue. “These kills are angry, the overkill and sexual assault definitely lean toward a male offender, I think the unsub is angry,” you said.

“Angry that his town is no longer what it once was,” Spencer suggested, taking his eyes off the whiteboard. “Are there any other locations that could fit that general description?”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Probably, I haven’t been here in ten years, it might help to talk to a local. Charlie could probably help.”

“Charlie can’t help with anything; the chief took him off the case. It belongs to me now,” a voice behind you said. Immediately, you straightened up in your chair, earning a strange look from Spencer. “Y/N, I’m looking forward to working with you,” the male voice said.

Swallowing thickly, you turned and faced him, “I wish I could say the same, Johnny.” You stood up, needing as much ground as you could get. “Do you know any places that would fit the description? Somewhere that used to be a symbol in the down, but is abandoned now?”

“The school burnt down about eight days ago, but you’d know that if you gave a damn about us,” he said indignantly, looking down at you.

You felt Spencer stand behind you, “do you have some kind of problem?”

Johnny eyed your boyfriend and you hoped he didn’t catch on to your relationship, “If I’m being totally honest, I’m not completely comfortable working with Y/N.”

“Our team was called in to help solve these murders and Agent Y/L/N is a part of that team,” Emily defended you. “If you have a problem, I suggest you suck it up until this case is solved.”

Angrily, Johnny stalked off. You turned around and grabbed a file off of the desk, glancing over at Emily and silently thanking her.

help me hold on to you

Later in your shared hotel room, Spencer looked at you curiously, “Was he an ex-boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the bed, it wasn’t the worst bed you’ve slept in since joining the BAU, but it certainly wasn’t going to be winning any awards any time soon. “Don’t be jealous, Spence, it’s unbecoming," you deflected.

Spencer climbed on top of the bed and kissed your forehead, “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned.”

That made your heart clench, you sat up in the bed and cupped his face with your hands, “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You studied his face, the small crease in his forehead that told you he was overthinking the situation made you sigh. Gently, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “If I think you need to be concerned, I’ll tell you,” you whispered, allowing him to gather you in his arms.

“Okay, angel,” he whispered back.

You sighed and laid back against the pillows, “I have a bad feeling about this case,” you told him softly. Spencer doesn’t believe in intuition the way you do, but he’d never discredit your feelings.

He reached over and swept your hair behind your ear, “Me too.”

Pulling away from him, you looked at him curiously, “Why?”

He shrugged, “Both of them look like you. You’re the same age as them.” The victims, he was saying the victims were too similar to you for his own comfort. You hadn’t really given it much thought. If you start comparing yourself to the victims, you’d freeze up. That was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you comforted, curling up next to him.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey

The call came at five in the morning, only four hours after you had gone to sleep. Splitting up into two SUVs, half of you went to the precinct while the other half of you went to the crime scene.

“Katherine Meadows was dumped in front of the school,” Emily said, leading you, Tara, and Rossi into the precinct. You were still pulling your blazer on over your tank top, having been given approximately five minutes between waking up and getting out the door.

You stopped in your tracks; your mouth went dry. You knew of the other victims, but you were friends with Katherine. She helped you pay for your plane ticket out of here. You owed her your life, and now you’d never be able to repay her.

“What kind of school is it? Elementary? High school?” Rossi asked, flipping through a file that had been left on a desk.

Snapping out of your daze, you shook your head, “It’s K-12 all in the same building, that’s why it’s such a big deal that it’s gone.” You looked at the whiteboard, there weren’t any pictures of Katherine up yet, but you could imagine it. She looked more like you than the other victims, and you silently cursed Spencer for putting those thoughts in your head.

“Agent Y/L/N,” you heard Johnny call from behind you, he and your father were charging toward you at an alarming pace. “Are you armed?”

Your head snapped up, “yes,” you answered, putting your hand on your holstered weapon, watching as Johnny and Frank pulled their guns out.

“Please hand over your firearm to Detective Klein and put your hands up,” Frank commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you handed the weapon over to Johnny, facing him directly. It gave you tunnel vision, and you couldn’t even hear the protests of your team as you raised your hands level with your head.

Johnny grabbed your wrists, and you hissed as he cuffed you, the metal cutting into your skin when he made the handcuffs too tight. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murders of Victoria Reynolds, Melanie Baylor, and Katherine Meadows. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” He shoved you in the direction of the interrogation room, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

An officer opened the door, and he pushed you down into a metal chair, hooking your handcuffs to the table in front of you.He continued reading your rights, “If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you will still have the right to cease answering at any time until you are able to talk to an attorney.” Johnny said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Do you understand your rights?”

You glared up at him, “What the hell are you doing, Johnny?”

He slammed a palm on the table, “Do you understand your rights?”

Pursing your lips, you looked away and peered right at the glass window ahead of you, “Yes, I understand my rights.”

“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” He asked, leaning far too close to you, you could smell the cigarette smoke on his uniform. That smell was on you for years after you left, you were convinced you’d never be able to fully wash it off. Maybe you hadn’t.

You seethed up at him, “fuck no.”

Johnny nodded assuredly, opening the door to the interrogation room, and slamming it shut.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull the handcuffs away from where it was pinching your skin, you winced when it tore your skin. You set your head down on the cold table and sigh, knowing you should’ve taken Emily’s offer to stay behind when you had the chance.

Another officer came in later and told you they wanted your jacket and shoes for evidence, you didn’t fight them, numbly watching as he unlocked the handcuffs and took your jacket before putting the cuffs back on, just as tight. You kicked off your shoes for the officer and sat back down. Before he left, another officer came in and dropped an evidence box on the table.

It was an FBI scare tactic to leave an empty evidence box on an interrogation room table, but your box wasn’t empty.

They wanted to humiliate you in front of your team, and it was working. 

all the king's horses, all the kings men, couldn't put me together again

The next people to open the door were Charlie and Tara, they sat down across from you. “I’m really sorry about all of this Y/N,” he muttered to you, pulling some files out of the evidence box.

You shrugged and shook your head, “Nothing Johnathan Klein does to me anymore really surprises me.” You looked at the files.

Charlie was hesitant to open the files, “there’s some rough stuff in here if you’re okay with going over some of it with us.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at the file, “I don’t really have a ton of choice, do I?”

You hated both of them for pitying you, but more than anything you hated your father and Johnny for doing this to you and wasting time while there was a serial killer on the loose. He opened the file and placed pictures of the three victims in front of you.

For a couple of minutes, he asked general questions. Do you know them? How did you know them?

Then Tara finally asked a question, “Y/N, how old were you when your mother died?” She asked you, placing a photo of you and your mom in front of you. You were probably seven in the picture.

“Ten,” you answered, looking at the picture. You wondered if you could keep it once this was all over.

“When you were ten, you started a string of hospital visits that lasted until you were twenty years old. Broken ribs, concussions, fractures, and… a miscarriage,” Tara said, your eyes snapped up to look at her.

Your mouth went dry “You had Garcia unseal my files?” You couldn’t help the hurt in your voice.

The way Tara looked at you, you could tell she understood you in a whole new light now, “we had to. She felt horrible doing it.” That you didn’t doubt, the whole team had a mostly unspoken rule on inter-team profiling. You nodded understandingly.

“Y/N, do you have an alibi for the murders? We already cleared up that you weren’t working, but can anyone account for your whereabouts?” Charlie asked impatiently, he knew you didn’t do this, and it might not be his case anymore, but you could still tell he wanted it solved.

Looking directly at Tara, you answered the question, “No, I wasn’t with anyone.”

Your coworker set her jaw as Charlie got up and left.

“How did you get those injuries, Y/N?” Tara continued her line of questioning, setting a packet of medical records in front of you. You were still cuffed, so all you could do was touch the papers with your fingertips.

The paper read of chromosomes and a D&C, you couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes, “I- uh. I don’t want to look at that, please.”

Quickly, Tara pulled the papers away, “who hurt you?”

You bit your lip to stifle a cry, “Tara, please.” You knew what was going on, the only person who knew everything was retaliating against the precinct. They humiliated you, so she was going to humiliate them. She repeated the question and this time you answered, “My father.”

“Was your father also the father of your baby?” She asked, looking down at the papers. Honestly, she looked just about as uncomfortable as you were.

Solemnly, you shook your head, “That was Johnny. We were together from when I was fifteen until I was twenty. My dad-“ Your voice broke off, “Frank never touched me like that.”

“Can you tell me more about Frank?” She asked softly, the way she spoke to victims. The one thing you had tried to avoid.

Blearily, you looked up at your friend, “Can we take a break?”

Nodding, Tara stood up. When she opened the door, you heard shouting. People asking if your cuffs could be taken off. You just let your tears fall for a moment. Charlie came back and unlocked your cuffs, looking at the dried blood on them and the still bleeding wounds on your wrists, “I- I think we have a first aid kit somewhere.”

You brushed him off, waiting for him to leave and for Tara to come back. She did, draping a sweater over the table, and you tentatively grabbed it. Sighing when you recognized it as Spencer’s, “Has everyone seen the paperwork?”

She nodded slowly, “are you alright to talk to me about Frank now?”

You used your newly freed hands to wipe under your eyes before pulling the cardigan on. “It was my mom, she took everything he threw at her to protect me,” you whispered. “He hit me when I was ten, I had gotten a bad grade in social studies. So, my mom and I planned to leave, but he figured it out,” you said, furrowing your brows at the memory. “He strangled her, and she died. He told everyone she hung herself. The whole town believed him because he was the chief of police.”

Tara wrote something down, “he killed her in front of you?”

You nodded, “He needed someone else to take his aggression out on after that, so he beat me.” You told her, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s sweater. “So, when I was fifteen and I met a boy, I thought I had found the answers to all of my problems, but I really had just discovered more.”

“The boy was Johnathan Klein?”

Affirming her question again, you continued your story, “he was a horny fifteen-year-old boy, and he had sex with me even when I begged him not to. He told me he had to because he loved me, and I believed him.”

Tara leaned over and looked you in the eyes, “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” You asked meekly, tilting your head to the side. “He proposed to me the day we graduated from high school. I had already accepted the fact that I was never getting out of the town, but what I didn’t know was by getting engaged to him I was very nearly signing my own death certificate.” You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in your chest, “I found out I was pregnant when I was nineteen, and looking back at it now, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Tara didn’t speak, she just listened. You supposed that was the psychologist in her, letting you take the lead in your own story.

You furrowed your brows as you tried to bring memories that you had spent so long burying to the surface. “I knew I couldn’t make my baby go through the same thing I went through, so I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He found me, he beat me, he brought me to the hospital, and he told me I killed our baby.” You could see the story was bothering Tara. When you told Emily, you told her in pieces over the span of a month. “The only people I was allowed to see after that were my dad, Johnny, and Katherine.” You wiped tears from your face, “the judge wouldn’t grant me a restraining order, my only option was to run. So, when Kath showed up with a plane ticket and an envelope of cash, I took the opportunity and left.”

“Y/N, do you think these murders could be somehow connected to your upbringing here?” Tara asked, flipping through another file.

You looked back at the glass that separates the observation room, having no idea who was on the other side listening. “I didn’t until Reid said the victims looked like me,” you confessed. It felt too convenient, victims looking like you, you being framed for their murders. Yet, you still made sure not to call Spencer by his first name, afraid of giving yourself away. “Do they have any evidence?”

“They found soil from the factory crime scene on your shoes, but your jacket is still being processed. Without an alibi, we can’t get them to release you,” Tara said.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in the chair, “Of course, they found soil from the factory crime scene on my shoes, I was at the scene yesterday.”

The door opened and Frank stepped inside, “Your alibi spoke up.” He sounded irritated, but not as irritated as he’s going to be once the BAU is through with him.

i see right through me

Spencer had settled you down on a desk in the corner of the precinct, disinfecting the cuts on your wrists made by Johnny’s handcuffs. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as he cleaned the debris from your torn skin.

He didn’t respond, he just shook his head. You could tell he was thinking, as clearly as if you could see gears physically turning in his head.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, bending your neck to try to catch his eyes.

He shook his head again, “I’m not upset, not with you at least.”

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “Then stop getting so lost in thought. What’s bothering you?”

He clasped both of your hands in his own, setting them in your lap, “Does it feel like a coincidence to you that the same night Johnny told us about the school the woman who helped you escape an abusive relationship was found dead at that school?” Spencer dropped your hands, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out bandages before gingerly wrapping your wrists. At work, you tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, but you felt like these were extenuating circumstances, which was why you had secluded yourselves in the corner.

“I need to look at the crime scene photos again,” you said, trying to get off of the desk.

Spencer firmly placed both of his hands on your hips, effectively keeping you in place. “Once I’m done,” he whispered, securing the bandages on your wrists. “Are you alright?”

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sadly, “Everyone learned a lot about me today. Some of it I had never intended on telling them. I just feel… exposed? Raw?” You searched desperately for the right word to use to describe exactly how you feel.

Hanging your head low, your eyes traced patterns in the carpet when Spencer hooked a finger gently under your chin and lifted your head, so you were looking at him. His honey-colored eyes searched your face, and you felt like he was looking right through you. “You know nothing that happened today makes any of us see you differently, right? I don’t think of you as any less of a person because of what I learned today.”

You shook your head, “You don’t learn those things about your girlfriend and look at her the same.”

“You’re right. I don’t look at you the same, I’m even more in awe of you now than I was before. The fact that you’ve been through what you’ve been through and you’re this bright, shiny person sitting in front of me is astounding, but…” His voice trailed off.

Here it was, he couldn’t want who you were. He didn’t want the heavy history that comes with you. You shut your eyes.

He cupped your face with his hands, “it makes me worry that maybe I haven’t been there for you enough. Not in the same way you’re there for me.”

“Spence,” you whispered, swallowing back your emotions, and looking up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “I love you, and I have to make sure that you know that I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

Nodding rapidly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, “I know.” Your voice was little more than a rasp, “I know, I love you too.”

After assuring Emily and Tara that your friendship was intact, you turned to the team. “I think I play a bigger part in this case than I realize.”

“We were just coming to a similar conclusion, once we saw what Katherine Meadows looked like, it just confirmed our suspicions,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard, which now had Kath’s picture on it, as well as yours. “The whole town seems to have it out for you, though. How do we narrow down the suspect pool?”

You stepped up to the whiteboard, “Because it’s not about the locations and their relation to the town, it’s about the locations and their relation to me.” You pointed to the factory, “When I was fifteen, this was the first place Johnny ever assaulted me.”

“You said he proposed to you at your high school graduation, right?” Tara said, “That’s the connection to the school.”

Nodding, you continued, “And we were going to get married at the church.”

Spencer wrote this all down on the whiteboard as you fit the pieces of this puzzle together. “Is there anywhere else that would fit in with these other locations?”

Flipping through a file, you set papers down on the desk in front of your team. “That’s our house, it was set on fire not long after I left,” you pointed out. “That’s where he’s going next.”

“But who will his victim be? If we can get to her before he can, then we can stop him before he gets to her,” Matt mentioned.

Slowly, you turned around and faced your team, “I don’t intend on letting anyone else get hurt. This is between me and Johnny.”

who could stay?

You sat yourself down at the dining room table. Nothing in the house had been moved, its charred remains were left defenseless against Mother Nature. You knew this table, there was blood ground into the wood grain. It was your blood.

You wished they had torn the rest of the structure down.

Spencer didn’t like the idea of you going alone, but you were armed, and you had an earpiece in. You weren’t alone, the team was nearby in case things went wrong.

“Incoming, blue pick-up pulling into the driveway,” Luke said through the radio. “Suspect’s getting out, it doesn’t look like anyone’s with him.”

Realistically, you knew nothing was going to happen to you, but there was some small voice in the back of your head that told you something was going to go awry.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the floral-patterned chair. Part of you was grateful that the team had enough faith in you to send you to get a confession on your own, but another part of you wished someone would’ve asked you if this is really what you want to do. Sure, you wanted Johnathan Klein to be put away for a long time, but you didn’t want to be in this house. When you left, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot in this godforsaken town ever again.

Sitting up straight, the front door opened. You’re not sure why he opens the door when there’s a hole in the wall leading right to you. “I thought you might come looking for me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I always knew you’d come back to me, baby,” Johnny spoke to you in a low voice, but you knew the team could hear.

“I didn’t come here for you, Johnny,” you whispered, keeping your voice steady. “I came for the girls who were murdered. I knew them, we both did,” you told him. That was the truth, you felt like you owed them because they died while you got to live.

He sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. It was all you could do to not flinch away from him. “Then why did you bring that guy? If not to make me jealous, then why?”

“Johnny, if I go with you, will it stop?” You asked, turning to him, reaching out your hand, and placing it on his arm.

Humming, he reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear, luckily not the side where you had your earbud in. “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’ll have to spell it out for me,” he said, pulling you to your feet abruptly. You didn’t see the knife when he first walked in, you didn’t even know he had it until it was to your throat.

But you weren’t twenty years old anymore. You had grown up. You had learned self-defense.

So, you caught him off guard when you hit him, causing the knife to clatter to the ground. “You bitch!” He growled, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You won’t kill me,” you said, planting your feet on the ground. “You had five years to kill me, Johnny.”

He stood up, “No, but I killed a part of you. Didn’t I? When I killed your baby?”

After all these years, he knew how to get under your skin. He got one hit off, across your cheek, the strike so hard that your earbud went flying across the room. “You killed the part of me that you created, that’s not who I am. I recreated myself, a version of myself without this godforsaken town.”

“But I got you here, back home. I killed all those girls for you to come back to me,” he said, running straight at you.

You hit him with your gun, you physically struck him with the butt of the gun. You could’ve shot him, it would’ve been clean, but you didn’t. That would’ve been easy for him. He dropped like a ragdoll and the rest of your team came rushing in. Someone was calling your name, but you couldn’t hear.

Matt ended up being the one who cuffed him, you slowly walked away from them. Backing yourself into a wall, you watched it all happen.

When you left your hometown, you never quite felt like it was over. He was always still going to be around. But this? This felt final.

It made your chest ache.

Gently, Spencer took your hand and led you outside. “It’s done?”

He nodded rapidly, “It’s over, angel. Emily and Luke are at the precinct taking Frank into custody. They’ll both go away for a long time.”

“Spence, I want to go home,” you whispered, looking down the road and seeing houses that you recognize from your childhood. This whole town was filled with your own ghosts. “Can we go home?”

Spencer didn't answer, he just pulled you into him and held you tightly. You let him inspect the wound on your cheek before you went back to the hotel and put everyone’s belongings in an SUV.

On the jet, the two of you sequestered yourselves in the back where it’s darker. He offered to let you lie down, so you rested your head in his lap. He used one hand to hold his book and the other to smooth your hair back. Your eyes were shut, but you were vaguely aware of the rest of the team as they took turns peeking back at the both of you.

you could stay

please remember to like, reblog, and comment

[yanderenightmare]

you didn't pay Toji his bounty, so now he's coming to collect, and BOY- when he sees YOU and how rich you live all expensive in your mansion and pretty clothes, you can take a wild guess how he's gonna have you pay

Toji Fushiguro

TW: NSFW, noncon, derogatory nicknames, light bondage, spanking, implied breaking and entering

fem reader

Rope eats into your flesh, keeping your legs shut, rendering you unable to do much of anything but hop about like a bunny if you were to try it. Looped tight around each plush thigh right in the crease of your buttcheek, squishing into the fat of your inner thighs to show your kitty in all its wet and swollen glory.

You whine while he pets the folds, simpering condescendingly at you, “Don’t cry, princess- I’m gonna fuck you soon, don’t you worry your pretty little tiara about that…”

You ball your fists as his fingers brutishly rub over your clit, biting your palms with your manicured nails where your wrists are bound together in a neat knot atop your back.

“Just gonna have some fun with you first...”

Toes curled in the plush powder-pink carpet below; you’re bent over the back of your white-leather sofa chair – hips pressed firmly against the spine for every hit his palm makes against your plump tush – branding one cheek before changing and repeating, making the perfect skin welt with his handprint. 

You yelp the first few times, but then you cry – not used to such cruelty, always having been kept all soft and safe – all previous boyfriends vanilla mommy’s boys, not like this beast.

Your knees grew weak beneath you, soon trembling. But he spared you no sympathy despite it – only cooing at you through a wicked grin, clearly mocking you while rubbing soothing circles into the sore flesh with greedy fingers digging into the dough.

You whine when the hand reaches between your thighs again, running over the wet and swollen folds before splitting them – sliding to your hole, then sending two fat digits right inside it. He stations the other hand on the small of your back to keep you still when he brutally starts pumping the tightness.

“Shit- so tight and wet from that-” He jeers, then slaps the soft mound. “You rich sluts are such freaks, ain’t ya-”

The sound of a belt unbuckling comes next, and then the heavy drop of his pants hits the carpet.

You shuffle, but you’re not going anywhere – and if you somehow could, you wouldn’t get very far.

“This is it, princess- the moment you’ve been waiting for,” He groans, lifting the fat of your ass cheek in one hand while pointing his round cockhead up to your twitchy coin-sized hole. 

Clicking his tongue at the pretty sight, he slid his length between your pussylips first – just to tease – fucking the little triangle between your thighs until he was properly bathed in your velvety slick.

You wiggle, but it doesn’t do you anything other than make him lick the teeth of his smile, nudging his tip into your taunt welcome.

Your fingers reach before curling into a pair of tremoring fists, shaking your head in dread at the intrusion, stomach twisting while whimpers escaped you – taking every thick inch of meat one slow second at a time. “Yea~” He laughs breathily, grinning at the sight of you grating your thighs. It was clear you weren’t used to the mass. “I bet that hurts- you’re tight like a fuckin’ virgin-”

He buries his hands in the cake of your ass for purchase, gripping it tight with a hiss while leaning over you – pushing himself as tight and deep as possible – feeling you throttle him while you whine at the stretch – bratty mouth stuffed with your own silk panties. 

You’re breathless once he bottoms out. No air and no sounds, just eyes squeezed tightly shut, seeing white spots – back tense and arched like a cat before dropping into a pretty slope, releasing a filthy wet mewl into your gag – standing on your tippy-toes with thighs shaking.

But the sting is nothing compared to when he starts thrusting – lolling his hips back slowly, letting you feel every ridge and vein drag along your walls, only to slam right back in – the force making the armchair you’re resting on jump forward. 

Kneading your ass, he uses the fat in his grip to pull you back on him – his hips slapping into you from behind – making you choke on it.

You should have fucking paid him – you think in regret once he starts the rhythm, quick and deep. Making you pant out like a dumb little bitch in heat, yelping every time it fucks just a little deeper, hitting someplace new and tender – discovering new places you never even knew existed before now, stimulating every little nerve begging for the attention.

He tangles a fist in your hair, lifting you up until your head rests on his shoulder – one sturdy hand balancing you by the hip whilst the other holds you up by the neck – making your tits strut forward, jumping as he continues to jut up into you.

“Just like that, ye? Fuckin’ stingy bitch-” He grunts in your ear. “Right inside that tight rich twat of yours.” 

He landed another slap to the sore flesh of your rear, making you tighten up even more – clenching so tight he had to sink his teeth into your shoulder to keep from nutting too soon. You smelled sweetly spicy – so expensive it made his eyes roll beneath his lids – spiking his movement even more, rutting against you.

You scream, the silky lace of your underwear gone completely wet in your mouth now, just a soggy ball you chewed between grit teeth – trying to will away the knot winding up so tight in your gut, needing release.

Your efforts bore no fruits – soon, something pulled you like a rubberband and snapped just the same, making you clench tight on the fatness stuffing you full, shaking as the feeling seized you.

“Fuck- look at yah- takin’ my cock like a proper little fuck-toy, hm? Cummin’ like a whore- not so prim and proper now, are yah?”

[dearharriet]

I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

+

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

[maykenin]

not allowed

title inspo not allowed by tv girl

1.1k; 18+ MDNI. p in v, fingering, cheating (i don't endorse), semi public sex, light spanking & edging— please practice safe sex, and don't cheat.

a/n: hi omg after weeks of letting this crap rot in my drafts, my first fic just had to be about homewrecking, thank you to @tosuckmyweenis hehee, going from random asks to actually being convinced to post this, gave me the happy tears :")

There you were, sitting still looking pretty for the party as you served up the refreshments, opening doors as guests just piled up for your husband's party, it's only a few days until he leaves to god knows where—

"Mr Kennedy!" You opened the door to find your husband's best man, you knew him from his work and the next thing you knew he treated you way better in a few words rather than years of whatever your husband had to offer you, obviously you cleared your throat, simpering as he did. "I kept my promise," He replied coyly, nodding before you widened the door, letting him in.

You caught him getting a glimpse as you shut the door, the way your minidress wrapped around your curves, the fabric lying over your ass, god, he wanted it all to himself. He quickly let those thoughts vanish, at least temporarily. "So, where could he be?" His head scanned across the room to find your husband. "Star of the show's asleep, he had too much to drink." You shrugged. "Bummer," He let out a rather amused smile, not seeming down at the absence of your husband.

You watched as guests come and go, a few hours pass by as you watched the crowd dissipate. You waved goodbye before shutting the door, somehow Leon was still there; a bottle in hand as his attention was still on the football match on the screen. It's not customary to kick your guests out, especially if they've done so much for you— and still are.

"You're still here? I thought you'd leave like the rest," You asked, hoping he didn't get the wrong idea. "Figured you'd need some company, can't leave someone like you unaccompanied.." He teased, raising his bottle up as he watched you get one for yourself from across the room, he watched as you raised your ass up, it was your luck the bottles were sitting all the way down in your fridge. He kept his mouth shut, his gaze never turning away from your curves, how he'd imagine himself pressing his bulge over that thin fabric he'd barely call a dress.

Scratch the small talk, you two knew how this was going to end up, so why bother dragging it? He watched as you placed both of the open bottles on the table, taking a swig while he watched you. His calloused hand wrapped around your waist as he forced you to his lap, you didn't exactly protest. "Doesn't seem like you wore this for him," His hand crept up your dress, reaching out to the band of your panties, pulling it with a single finger before letting the band slap against you. "Y'gotta be a good girl, stay quiet, yeah?" He nodded alongside you, making sure you heard him right. "Don't want a whore like you to be caught fucking your husband's bestest friend, right? Or is that what you want— to be caught?" He sneered, watching you hide your face as you tried to ignore his harsh words, but fuck— you only grew more and more sensitive and vulnerable to his degrading language. "Oh? Poor baby's grown so used to being degraded," He cooed as his fingers slid under your panties, down to your slick covered cunt. His fingers curling inside your velvet walls, tongue sticking out in between his teeth as he did so. You whined, shaking your head as you tried to back down from his harsh teasing.

"Don't deny it, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you? Isn't that why you're wearing this?" He whispered, his free hand trailed to the hem of your dress, flipping it up before you helped him hold it. His free hand travelled up and down your waist while you rode against his fingers. He gave your waist a squeeze tight enough to bruise before briefly letting go, smacking your ass almost right after, a whine escaped your lips as you buried your face on his collar, getting a whiff of his expensive cologne that somehow got you more aroused. "I told you not to make a noise, right?" He muttered, spanking you once again. You bit your lower lip to silence your wincing. "That's more like it, such a good girl." He cooed, almost pretending as if he wasn't shaming you for indulging in what the two of you wanted. Somehow his constant switching between degrading and praising you only got you more and more aroused. "M-Mr Kennedy, 'M gonna cum.." You whined. "Not yet, baby, need you to cum on my cock." His lips curled at the corners, he let out a groan as he watched you comply, both hands undoing his pants, then sliding both his pants and briefs right off. His exposed cock only got harder the moment the cool air hit surface. He watched you grind against the tip before taking him all in, his head threw back instantly. "Fuck, y'so tight," He groaned, a hand rested around the headrest, holding a bottle while the other had a grip around your hip tight enough to bruise. "L-Leon.." You panted, watching him handle you all while nonchalantly taking swigs at his beer, his hands slid off from your hip to your clit, brushing his thumb over it while staring into you as you drifted into pure ecstacy. "C'mon, sweet girl," He coaxed as your orgasm came crashing. A thousand fireworks frolicked in your mind, your body refused to stay still as he continued to fuck you. "That's it, my sweet girl, doin' so good for me." He cooed, brushing a piece of your hair away from your face. "Fuck, I'm gonna stuff you— sweet thing." He grunted, "You'd like that, yeah? Fucked dumb by your husband's friend— now you want his kids." He broke into a small chuckle at the end of his words, watching you squirm and deny all while he overstimulated you, his thumb flicked your clit while he continued to thrust into you. "Leon! 'S too much!" You mewled, your nails clawed through either side of his broad shoulders. "Oh, fuck, sugar— y'milking me dry over here." A hard chuckle came at the end of his words. You could feel the hot sticky jizz spurt inside you, as you squirted all around his cock. The feeling died out the second his cock slipped back out, spraying a few more strings all around your stomach.

You were a crying mess, tears ridden halfway as Leon's thumb brushed them off alongside a few strands of your hair off your face. "Oh- shh. Wouldn't wanna wake your husband up to see you like this, huh?" He dragged your face to his shoulder by a hand on the back of your head, you wept nearly incessantly before he pressed a kiss on your forehead. "There, there. Let's get you cleaned up," His voice merely a low timbre as he brushed the back of your head with his thumb upon running his fingers through your hair.

[angelickks]

Miguel Headcanons: Mrs. O'Hara

1k+ - husband! miguel o'hara x spider-woman wife! reader

summary: miguel o'hara and his wife, but make it headcanons! warnings: some swearing. descriptions of two injuries but nothing graphic! that lovey dovey shit. overall fluff. not proofread terrible. lmk if i missed some! notes: this is slight au, meaning i chose peace but i don't think y'all will entirely mind. i am in no way fluent in spanish, as i only know very few words and phrases so i figure i throw that out there. i think i covered all my bases so enjoy, muah!

pt 2!

To any newcomers, learning that Miguel O’Hara had a wife was a concept many couldn’t wrap their heads around…

Could you blame them?

He meant business, he was cutthroat with the way he ran things and no one was safe from his wrath 

Well….unless you were his wife 

“MIGUEL!” Jess chuckled at the rare use of your husband’s name on your tongue. “Shut it!” He practically hissed at her, she sent him an unimpressed look but that quickly changed when you came into view. She sent you a teasing smile followed by a “Hey mama.” You gave a quick peck to her cheek before your eyes landed on your husband. He cleared his throat and swallowed at the annoyed look painted across his wife's face. “Mi vida,” he simpered but was quickly shut down, “Cut the shit.” He knew the exact reason for this sudden intrusion, you caught wind of what happened between Miles and Miguel earlier that afternoon. Unbeknownst to Miguel, Peter B. may have ratted to the infamous Mrs. O’Hara that her husband might’ve tried to throw a table at Miles, again. Why? Well, Miles had tried to get into Miguel’s good graces the way he knew best, food of course. That brings the couple to right now, you giving your husband a look that meant hell while he stood there looking like a kid caught red-handed by his mother. You wasted no time, “Throwing tables at kids Miguel? Miles of all people?” Jess let out a boisterous laugh as she exited Miguel’s office, Miguel shot her another snarl when she turned back to make a face at him. “Don’t get mad at her! We discussed this: just because you’ve got a temper doesn’t mean you start with KIDS!” Now you were pacing back and forth rambling, frustration oozing off your figure. He sighed in defeat and touched your waist gently, halting your pacing. You narrowed your eyes at your husband, quickly glancing at the hand on your waist. “I’m sorry mi vida, you’re right. I take full responsibility for my actions but-” You shot a icy glare at him, effectively shutting down whatever he was gonna say to even try and justify it. He dropped his head but was pleasantly surprised by the soft kiss on his forehead. You wrapped your arms around his waist and planted another kiss on the wide expanse of your husband's chest. “Yeah…shut up,” He huffed out a chuckle at your comment and caressed the back of your neck, claws lightly scratching you. You gave him a sweet smile before shooting a web at the neck of his suit and gave him a particularly hard tug so he was eye level with you, “Pull that shit again and you can spend a couple of nights in this “office”, mi amor.” You pecked the corner of his mouth before releasing his suit and untangling yourself from his arms. “It’s lunchtime, I brought food. Come.” He grunted as you made your way over to his slightly dented table placed in the corner of his workspace with a bag he hadn't noticed until now. He saw a flash of your webs attached to his chest before he was pulled to the spot next to you. 

You were easily a favorite at HQ

You were unabashedly sweet, easy to talk to, and overall had a great energy

Not to mention, you were amazing on the field

Personality wise you were the COMPLETE opposite of your counterpart

And that's why it was so hard to believe why you of all people were with a man like your husband

That’s how you earned the nickname, so lovingly given to you by none other than Hobie, boss-lady. Something he didn’t say lightly, as he never referred to Miguel as “boss” despite him being the one that ran the place

This peeved Miguel, not because he didn’t agree with you being “boss-lady” but simply because it was Hobie

As for Gwen, Miles, and Pav…..you were their work-mom

You seemed to always be saving their asses from your husband's temper, for which they were very grateful 

While at work he was well…Miguel

Brooding, perpetually stressed, a void of emotion rlly

But with you, it was the complete opposite

Anyone in a hundred-mile radius could see that Miguel O’Hara was putty in the hands of his wife 

Hobie, Gwen, Miles, and Pav had just gotten back from what they deemed a successful mission, but to Miguel successful was the last word he’d use to even describe it. So here they were in his office being reprimanded, again. 

“All four of you went against almost every single protocol in the damn book, protocols set in place to prevent your mistakes! Once again, disobeying strict orders to follow them!”

The sight found below Miguel’s platform was not a new one, not even close. Nor was it new when you just so happened to swing in at the right moment. 

“Amor! You forgot the bag I packed for you this morning” Your sweet smile lightened up the dark room. The group watched as their boss become the walking definition of heart eyes. “Oh I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Feigning confusion while subtly shooting the four a knowing look. “You? Never love. Come, let me see you” Your husband beckoned, holding out a hand for you. Your webs glowed as they pulled you up the platform, you swiftly reached for his hand and pulled him into you. You made quick work of maneuvering his back toward the group. They watched as you placed a kiss on his collarbone lovingly, quickly sticking your head over your husband’s bulky shoulder and mouthing the words, “Out, now!” Disguising it as another hug. 

They wasted no time doing just that, earning you hushed sighs of relief and a small salute.  

Some perks came with working with your significant other 

Seeing and being with each other often 

Constantly checking up on each other, fair share of making sure the other is eating and getting an ample amount of sleep

Looking out for each other in the field blah blah blah

You always looked out for Miguel, but you knew he could handle his own.

Miguel on the other hand? Easily the multiverse's biggest worry wart 

The poor man has lost so much that he cannot bare the thought of losing his driving force.

This meaning every scratch or bruise, he’s waiting on you hand and foot 

You came back from a seemingly easy mission with Noir. It wasn’t something you two couldn’t handle, it was simple. Catch the anomaly and report back to HQ. It was just this time, you returned with a gash in your thigh and a shitty bruise on your cheekbone. It was lightwork in your eyes, the perks of the job. 

Yeah, not for your husband. 

The minute you walked into HQ, you were met with the sight of your brooding partner donning his signature snarl. Not pointed at you but at your partner. You rolled your eyes at his antics making quick work to defend Noir from your husband’s fury. “How about you go get this thing situated Noir?" Motioning to the irate anomaly in tow, "Gotta deal with the big guy.” He nodded quickly before walking off, avoiding Miguel’s hard glare. 

“Don’t get mad at him, it’s not his fault. Blame the ugly thing we just captured.” Attempting to soothe your beast of a husband, quickly picking up on his clenched fists. He swiftly reaches for your jaw, holding it gently to scan for any further injuries. You reach for his clenched fist and massaged his palm to release the tension there. In a flash, he places a kiss on your forehead and you quickly pick up on his ragged and uneven breathing, frowning as you recognize the tell-tale sign of his anxiety. He softly releases your jaw from his grip and rests the same hand on your lower back, practically dragging you to the med bay nearby. He got there hastily, keeping it together to stay mindful of the gash on your thigh. 

It was hard to hand you off to the doctors, who stitched and cleaned you up in time. But not fast enough for Miguel, simultaneously vexed and impatient, who insisted (basically threatened, but ok) that he stay in the corner closest to you. As per usual, you took it like a champ, unlike your very frigid husband menacingly staring down at the unfazed doctor. They gave you some final instructions on how to keep the wound sanitary and to stay off the field for a week or two while insisting you stay a night in the med bay (this is upon Miguel's request threat so he could have supplies readily available if anything were to happen) After the doctor left your side, Miguel was right there softly caressing your unbruised cheek, causing you to melt into his touch. “Love, you realize that the doctor is just doing their job and you can’t just stitch me up yourself right? No matter how talented you think you are,” You said, sleepily teasing Miguel. He shot you a very unenthusiastic look, rubbing his thumb over your eyelid gently to coax you to close your eyes. “Shut up, go to sleep muñeca” He placed another kiss on your forehead, making his way to your cheeks while being sure to avoid the bruised one before making it to your lips. "Rude ass" you murmured, he lightly poked your nose with the pad of his thumb. "I love you endlessly, mi vida" he whispered you opened your eyes one last time and gave him a knowing smirk, "I love you, I'm sorry for worrying you amor. It's going to be okay."

He spent that whole night at your side, woke you up once to get you to change into more comfortable clothes, and put you right back to sleep. He had spent a few hours rubbing your feet and softly singing to you in Spanish in the dimly lit room. He didn’t sleep as great as you wanted him to, in fact, woke up with an annoying ache in his back from the shitty chair he slept in.

Safe to say you spent about two weeks in the "office", helping with paperwork. All while trying to convince your unrelenting husband to let you massage the new annoying knot in his back. which he let you help with after a few empty threats and a lot of kisses.

BONUS: 

A few days after the group’s mission, the last thing they expected to see was their boss in the cafeteria unfortunately unaccompanied by you, walking towards them. 

“Next time you guys decide to break protocol, don’t expect my wife to save you.” He grunted, his fangs flashing slightly. They watched worriedly as he sauntered over to where you sat five tables over.

Now it was your turn to look like a kid caught red-handed. 

xtras! i had sm fun writing this its 12am and i have work tmr but oh well. possible pt. 2?

[jobean12-blog]

Insatiable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Vampire AU)

Word Count: 893

Summary: Bucky will never tolerate any harm coming to you and he will do anything to protect you.

Author's Note: Another little piece for Kinktober! I can never leave out my favorite AU and Vampire!Bucky is one of my fave kinks! 🫠🔥 The inspiration for this came from Castlevania season 1- if you haven't seen the show it doesn't matter, I just love the idea of Dracula losing his mind bc anyone tries to hurt his love. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness, mentions of b-l-oo-d, fi-g-e-r-in-g, p-in-v, Vampire!Bucky bc he's just so hot lol

Vampire AU Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

His blue eyes pierce the darkness of night as he gazes down on the slumbering village, unmoving on the large balcony even as you approach.

“I was wondering where you had gone,” you whisper as you curl yourself against him. “I hate being in bed without you.”

He removes his gaze from the village and settles it on you, the radiant skin of his brow furrowing when he sees your bare skin.

With a tsk of disapproval he removes his shirt and drapes it over your shoulders, cocooning you with its warmth as he presses you against his body. He drags his eyes away from you and stares back out over the village.

You lay a palm on his bare chest, feeling nothing but his cool skin. “Talk to me.”

He rests his hand over yours. “I’m going to burn that city to the ground.”

The words come out in a rumble of a warning, his eyes glowing and his fangs elongating.

“No,” you state, sliding in front of him so you can draw his attention. “You’re not.”

With a sly smile his focus returns to you. “Is that so doll?”

He cages you against the iron railing of the balcony and ghosts his fingers along your collarbone, moving higher until he pushes his shirt from your shoulder.

“Mm hm,” you hum, pressing yourself closer to him.

His dark eyelashes kiss his cheeks as he feels every inch of your naked body and his hands glide along your curves.

But when he speaks the next words his grip tightens and his eyes flash. “But they tried to take you from me. Tried to take the only thing that makes this eternity worth enduring.”

“James,” you whisper, brushing your fingertips along his jaw. “They didn’t succeed. You saved me. I’ll always be safe with you.”

His fingers ghost over your hip to grab your elbow before they continue sliding along your arm until he catches your wrist in his hand and leans his cheek into your palm.

“They need to pay for what they’ve done,” he murmurs as he lifts your hand and presses his lips to each fingertip. “I will make them bleed.”

“You can’t punish all of them for the wrong doings of only a few.”

“I can,” he says, his voice deep and powerful. “Besides doll,” he croons, his smirk growing, “how do you plan to stop me?”

Your own grin graces your features as you remove your hand from his and take his wrist, sliding his fingers down between your breasts and along your stomach.

His breath hitches ever so slightly as his eyes track the movement.

“A distraction,” he simpers.

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and nod.

“For the rest of eternity?” he teases.

“Are you complaining?” you ask when his fingers meet the apex of your thighs.

You release his hand and he doesn’t move, his touch teasing.

“If I could stay buried inside you forever,” he murmurs, nipping lightly along your throat with his fangs, “I would.”

You shiver and spread your legs wider when his fingers dip lower. His free hand slides firmly around your neck and his fangs still hover above your delicate skin as he runs his nose the length of your throat, inhaling your scent into his lungs.

“You smell good enough to eat,” he hums when he slips two fingers inside you.

Your head rolls to the side, exposing more of your neck as you thrust your hips onto his fingers, whispered pleas for more falling from your parted lips.

“You tempt the beast inside me doll,” he growls.

“I want you…every way I can have you James.”

The drag of his fingers is slow, torturous and purposeful.

His cool lips graze along your jaw before they find yours and he draws out every breath from your lungs, pushing harder and deeper with his fingers.

“James,” you gasp as your legs start to tremble.

Without warning he pulls his fingers from inside you and lifts them between your bodies, the moonlight illuminating his glistening skin. He brings them to his lips, licking and sucking them clean of every last drop with a satisfied growl.

“They tried to take you from me,” he repeats, his eyes growing darker even as a soft glow surrounds his irises. “Tried to take this from me.”

As he speaks the words he grabs your thigh and spreads you open, lifting your leg and wrapping it around his waist. He fills you in one hard thrust, your back arching and bending back over the railing.

He holds you in his embrace, his hips still as he nips and sucks along the swell of your breasts.

“James…please,” you beg.

When his lips reach your pulse point he bites down hard enough to draw blood, his fangs caressing the spot before he soothes it with his tongue.

“You would have me do nothing when they try to take everything from me?” he whispers into your skin, his voice raspy with need. “I can’t lose you.”

He starts to move; each roll of his hips deliberate as he chokes out the next words and wraps his hand more tightly around your neck, drawing you impossibly closer.

“I can’t lose you and I’ll do anything to protect my Angel. Even if it means I have to be the Devil.”

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @lizette50

[nickfowlerrr]

always.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst (with a happy ending bc duh, it’s me). fluff. uh i think that’s all but if something important needs to be mentioned here, pls lmk!

words: 3.5k

notes: REPOST. this was not at all what i intended to write when i first got my aesthetic photo inspo but here we are lol. this is my fic submission for @pupandkisasaesthetics’ challenge and i hope you enjoy it. and a special thank you to @fandoms-writings for reading over the first draft of this for me and helping me out! i appreciate you so much, remi!! 🥰

thank you in advance for reading and as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated! please let me know what you think. 🖤

The floorboards creak under your feet with every step you take. Your eyes are red and your cheeks puffy. You ran out of tears a while ago. Your head throbs still, the headache lingering from the stress, and as you catch a glance of yourself in the mirror hung on the wall of the safe house, you know you look as dead as you feel.

You’re numb and yet your insides are aching, screaming at you.

That wasn’t it. He isn’t gone. It isn’t over.

It can’t be over.

As you pace the empty living room, back and forth, nonstop as you had been since you got back to the safehouse hours ago, the only thing you can do is torture yourself by replaying in your mind each and every step you took and every single word that left your mouth leading up to the explosion.

The explosion.

The deafening boom.

The ringing in your ears.

The shaking of the ground beneath you and of the walls around you.

The gripping fear when you realized where the bomb emanated from.

The neverending silence over static as you tried uselessly to get through to him.

The strong grip on your arm that pulled you from your stupor, that same strong hold that kept you from heading straight to where he was.

Your throat was sore from your yelling. From the cries you couldn’t hold back as you found yourself being urged into the jeep as they started back to safety. Just leaving him.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the window as you raged.

But you couldn’t focus on the cruelty of the words you threw at the team, your supposed family, in your attempt to get them to stop. To do their jobs. To save him.

No.

Instead, the loop started right back over.

Walking into the base with Yelena at your side, Bucky in your ear with Sam on his six on the opposite end of the site.

It wasn’t meant to be dangerous. Not more than the usual. Just a simple search and clear of the abandoned base. You’d all done this a hundred times over.

You’d meet in the middle and give the go ahead when you were done.

But that didn’t happen.

You were smirking as you heard Bucky and Sam’s never ending back and forths over the comms as you and Yelena cleared out the east wing of the site.

“East wing clear, heading south. You two plan on doing your job or should we take out the west wing for you, too?” you joked lightly as you made your way down the long winding hall.

“Ya know I’d feel a lot better having you on my six than this stupid fucking robotic bird flying around my head,” Bucky groused.

“Yeah,” you laughed as your eyes scanned yet another empty old computer room, “well give me a minute and I’ll be right there to save you,” you simpered playfully.

“West wing clear and secured, heading south now. Think I’ll get to you first, but I-”

His voice was cut off simultaneously by the static and the boom of the unexpected explosion going off. You and Yelena both ducked, protecting your heads as the ground shook and a wave of vibrations from the blast moved around you. You popped your ear as you tried to orient yourself through the ringing, slowly standing after everything else went still. Your breaths heavy as confusion clouded you both. You checked each other, ensuring you were both alright before your heart skipped a beat. Yelena was talking on her comms with Steve as you were pressing on your own, you tried to communicate with Bucky despite the static still ringing over..

“Buck, you okay?”

Nothing.

“Bucky?” you asked again, growing more frantic internally though you tried to remain as collected as you could.

Still no response.

Your eyes shot to the hall across from you leading to the west wing. To where the explosion came from. To Bucky. You were frozen still.

You pressed on the comms, over and over, trying desperately to get through to him.

“Bucky?”

Silence.

“Buck, can you hear me?... Bucky? James?!” your voice only grew louder and more harsh the longer the silence stretched on. It was like you were stone, you couldn’t manage to move, couldn’t do anything other than try to call him. You hadn’t noticed when Steve and the others came in until Steve took hold of your arm, his touch pulling you from your spot.

You looked to him, eyes wide and blown, feeling like you’d just been kicked back into your physical body.

“What are we doing?” you asked harshly. “What am I doing?” you said, frenzied before you turned and tried to make a move down the hall no one else seemed to be heading toward. His hold on you tightened, keeping you from going, stopping you easily.

“You need to go, we have to get you guys out of here,” Steve said sternly, concern swimming in his gaze despite his levelheaded presence.

“Are you- are you fucking kidding me?” you struggled in his hold. “Bucky is over there, what the fuck are we doing?! Let go of me! I know you have no problem leaving the people you claim to love to suffer and figure it out for themselves, but I can’t do that,” you seethed. “I’m not leaving him, get the fuck off, someone needs to go get him!

“And you and that stupid fucking camera, letting him go in by himself,” you turned on Sam, “where the fuck were you?”

You didn’t realize how much you were struggling to breathe as you fought against your friends to get past them, you didn’t realize how easily you were unraveling as you spiraled quicker and quicker the more time stretched on. It hadn’t been more than a minute or two but it felt like an eternity.

“He’s not answering, okay, he’s not answering so someone needs to go find him. We need to get him! Why are we just standing here! He could be hurt, or trapped, or - fuck!”

“I know. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving. But you are. You and you,” he eyed Yelena, “you two need to go. Bishop and Torres are at the first jeep - you guys need to clear the area. The less of us around to get hurt the better and there’s not much you can do.

But I promise you, I’m not leaving him. Okay? I swear,” Steve said as he stared into your welling eyes.

“You’re the last person I’d trust to keep a promise,” you bite harshly before being pulled away by Yelena. You didn’t fight her, though. A part of you knew Steve was right. There wasn’t much you could really do and the more people there were the more likely someone else would end up hurt, too.

Even still, when you got to the jeep, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to make a break for the west end of the site. How could you possibly live with yourself if you didn’t even try to go in and help him?

Your attempt was futile, though, and soon you were sobbing into your hands as Joaquin drove you all back to the safe house.

As you stood there now, still pacing aimlessly, guilt washed over you. You could clearly recall the subtle recoil from Steve, the pain and regret in his eyes, at your words.

You knew he’d never forgiven himself for leaving Bucky, you knew a part of him could never, and you knew it was a low blow to bring up, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care in the moment. You wanted him to remember. You needed him to. Because he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t just leave him there to.. No. He wasn’t.

That wasn’t even a possibility.

He couldn’t be.

He wasn’t.

You kept repeating it over and over again in your head as your eyes threatened to well anew.

He wasn’t.

He couldn’t be.

—

It was past midnight when you had finally taken a seat on the lumpy sofa.

Kate’s earlier attempts at getting you to sleep were useless and only ended with you growling at her to leave you alone.

She, of course, ignored your snarling and stayed on the couch, just watching you. Her sympathetic gaze was as irking as it was easing.

She didn’t really say much, knowing not to push you, but just her being there had you feeling less like you were drowning. She grounded you a bit.

But she couldn’t take the fear away.

You felt her shuffle closer to you when you finally sat down but didn’t turn until her arms were around you, pulling you in.

You let out a broken breath as you turned into her and returned her hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she murmured as she hugged you tighter. “He’s a supersoldier. And he has a vibranium arm. Odds are definitely in his favor,” she tried to lighten the mood.

When you didn’t respond, she pulled away slightly.

“Seriously,” she said as you pulled away from her, looking her in the eye, “we were watching surveillance while you guys were inside. Redwing, we think, set off whatever motion detector was set. He was a bit ahead of Bucky, so we know he wasn’t that close to the blast. The feed cut out, obviously, but.. I don’t know, I thought that’d maybe..help you.. feel better? I just-”

“No, I appreciate knowing that. Thank you. But honestly, I don’t think anything’s gonna help until I know for sure. Until he’s back here.”

The front door creeping open had both of you standing and turning at attention. You could almost feel your heart in your throat as your breathing stalled.

It was a perilous few seconds of nothing before Sam stepped inside.

He looked exhausted and worn and.. Solemn.

“Sam,” Kate edged gently.

There was a pit in your stomach as he looked between you and Kate for a moment before his gaze dropped and he shook his head.

A stunted gasp left Kate’s lips as your heart stuttered, eyes wide, your stomach dropping before the door was shoved open even more.

“Please, don’t get him started on that stupid bird again, for the love of god,” Bucky huffed as he walked in, trying to hide a slight limp before a smirk graced his face as he met your eye.

Everything seemed frozen in the moment you registered his voice and when your eyes met his you honestly thought for a second you were dreaming.

He was leaning against the open door, a relaxed smirk on his lips before he nodded to you, “What happened to you coming to save me, huh?”

You didn’t even register yourself moving until you crashed right into him, almost toppling Bucky over as you did. Your eyes were bleary with tears of relief as you sighed heavily, shakily in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed as you crushed yourself to him even further, his solid arms holding you right back as you felt him press a kiss to your head.

“I was kidding, sweetheart. Don’t say you’re sorry,” he chided.

You pulled away from him, taking his face in your hands.

“You’re okay?” you asked.

“Always,” he answered, leaning closer to kiss you softly.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Steve challenged as he came in behind Bucky. “But give it a few days, I’m sure you’ll be good as new.”

You swallowed thickly as you looked at Steve, shame again coming over you, even more now as Bucky’s arms were around you.

You looked away, taking a steadying breath as you took Bucky’s hands in yours.

“You should sit,” you said as he let you lead him away from the door, allowing Steve to close it. “Or shower, maybe?”

“You gonna join me?” he asked, his flirtatious nature never faltering.

“Have some decorum, some of us are in mourning, jackass,” Sam gruffed as he walked through the living room.

“Oh, Sam,” you called, stopping him. You walked up to him, as sincerely as you could, “I’m sorry,” you offered gently before punching him as hard as you could manage in his arm.

“Hey, what the hell?” he said incredulously as he held his arm.

“You deserved that one,” Kate said as she came to stand next to him. “I really thought Bucky bit the big one for a second,” she chuckled, “I am sorry about Redwing, though.”

“Why are you sorry for a robotic bird, I’m the one who almost got blown up,” Bucky interjected.

“Almost being the operative word there. Redwing, on the other hand, did get blown up.”

“I’m not doing this with you again,” Bucky groused, walking past the living room to the bathroom on the other side of the stairs. “I am gonna shower, sweetheart. Would you grab my bag from upstairs?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll bring it to you in a minute.”

You watched Sam and Kate go upstairs but you were too caught up in your own mind to really pay attention to their conversation. You saw Steve about to make a move to follow them, looking tired and ragged himself.

You followed him, pulling his hand before he could make it up the steps.

“Hey,” you started. “Can we talk?”

He looked a little nervous, unsure, but nodded anyway.

“Sure,” he said, turning around to follow you.

You walked into the living room that was now empty before you turned to meet Steve’s eye.

“I am so sorry,” you apologized, voice thin as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “I don’t know why I- it doesn’t matter, you didn’t deserve that. It was uncalled for. And not true. And I am so, so sorry, Steve.”

“Tensions were high, it’s okay-”

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay. You’re his best friend, you would do anything for him. You love him. I know that, we all know that, and I never should have.. You did everything you could have,-”

“I didn’t—.”

“You did,” you insisted. “You did. And you and I both know he definitely wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you. You’ve put your life on the line for him countless times, and even if you do hold yourself accountable for the train - which you shouldn’t - your slate would’ve been wiped clean about six life saves ago,” you smiled lightly, earning a small smile from him in turn.

“He’d do the same for me. He has done the same for me,” he laughed softly. “‘M just glad he’s alright.”

“Yeah. Thank you. For getting him out. For being there for him. I went a little crazy when I thought he was hurt,” you looked down, ashamed at yourself.

“I can’t blame you. Been there before. But he’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re all okay.”

You nodded, meeting his eye once more before you hugged him tightly, his own arms coming around you to return the affection.

“He’s more banged up than he’s letting on,” Steve said as he pulled away, “you should check on him. I’ll throw your bags down, you guys can take the room down here.”

“Thank you, Steve. Really,”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled before heading back for the stairs.

As you made your way to the bathroom Bucky was occupying, you heard a low grunt followed by a hiss of pain. Knocking lightly, you gave him a second before you let yourself in.

The deep purple bruises that littered his torso had you grimacing for him sympathetically.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart, you know they’ll be gone this time tomorrow.”

“That’s not the point,” you argued, stepping in further, shutting the door behind you.

You walked up to him, lightly running your hand down his torso while pouting mindlessly.

His thumb found your lip as he pulled it down, getting your attention. “I’m fine,” he assured you.

“You could’ve gotten really hurt, Bucky. You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t. I’m right here. Right where I want to be,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

You let your head rest against his chest as he held you, your arms finding their way around him.

“I was so scared,” you whispered pathetically, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that kind of fear before. I hated it.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured into your hair. You shook your head, brushing off his needless apology before you took a heavy breath.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” you confessed.

“You’re not ever gonna lose me, sweetheart. I’ll always find my way back to you,” he said softly, still holding you against him, “Always.”

A part of you wanted to argue the inevitable. One day, hopefully not one so soon, one of you would lose the other. That was life, wasn’t it?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to challenge him. It was nicer to believe that he was right. He’d always find his way back to you, and you would always find your way back to him.

Always.

You reached your hands up to gently rake your fingers through his hair. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Never been better,” he simpered easily, enjoying the feeling of your affectionate touch.

You dropped your hands to his shoulders before sliding them down his solid chest, your fingers soothing comfortingly along his skin.

“The truth?” you prodded quietly, flitting your gaze up to meet his brilliant blue eyes in a request for his honesty.

He was quiet for a second before he took a heavy breath, his hands finding and holding yours before he lifted one to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your hand. “The truth is, I’m gonna be okay,” he responded in earnest.

You allow your hand to cradle his stubbled cheek as you keep his loving gaze, finding comfort in the warmth of his eyes.

“Should we talk about it?” you ask, a little hesitant to bring it up, not wanting to let show how unnerved you were still feeling. And it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him when he said he was alright, but still you wanted to know exactly what happened, you wanted to know what he was going through back there. And selfishly, you knew you needed to know everything before you’d start feeling any kind of alright, either.

Bucky’s gaze softened even more at your question. Sam and Steve had told him you were worried, but he hadn’t realized how upset you really were while they were back there. Aside from being banged up by the blast and being trapped in the hallway he’d been in for a good while while Sam and Steve worked to get through the wreckage of the site to get him out, he really was okay. Especially when he knew you and everyone else were safe.

He didn’t feel the need to talk about it, but just from the look in your eyes he knew you did. So he didn’t have to think much at all before he answered.

“Yeah, we should talk about it,” he said, his hand on yours as you caressed his cheek. “Shower first?” he prompted, pulling you from your ever anxious thoughts.

You nodded, “Good idea.”

You turned to leave the slowly steaming bathroom as the shower continued to warm, but were stopped by Bucky the moment he realized you were going for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m gonna grab your bag,” you laughed lightly, but not pulling away from his hold.

“You’re coming right back?” he questioned. “I was away from you for more than long enough already tonight, you can’t be gone too long.”

“I’ll be right back,” you tittered, a lightness returning to you the longer you were around him.

“You better be. If you take anything away from tonight, it should be that you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, doll,” he smirked playfully as he let you go.

“I wouldn’t dream of even trying,” you said before leaning back in to kiss him softly. “You know I love you, Bucky, right? More than anyone, or anything, ever. You know that?”

“I do. But I don’t mind the reminder,” he smiled into another gentle kiss. “You know I love you more?”

You kissed him deeper at that, not realizing how much desperation was fueling you until you finally pulled away, leaving both of you a little breathless.

Your eyes were pinched shut as you tried to keep hold of yourself, pressing in close to Bucky once more.

“You can’t ever leave me. You can’t,” you whispered desperately.

Bucky’s light grip on your chin had you looking up at him, bleary eyes and a soft pout on your lips as you met his intent gaze.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I wouldn’t ever dream of it. I’ll always get back to you. I promise. Always.”

[atxxokirina]

Unspoken Words

Neteyam x Mute fem Metkayina reader

contains: pure fluff, reader is mute, "finger talk" or sign language, sweetheart neteyam, awatlu setting, lmk if i missed anything c:

summary: it's all in the name baby!

na'vi dictonary:

ma - a way to refer to someone before saying their name

tìyawn - love

paysyul - water lily

author's note! (italic is used to symbolize when you or neteyam are using sign language)

You sit at the side of the river, legs crossed as the soft water grazed against your feet. Neteyam swiftly ran brushes his fingers through your hair. Giving the top of your head a kiss before twisting two thick strands together. Your eyes flutter closed as he began to braid, comfort and stability falling over you as you lean your head back into him.

You've always felt so safe with Neteyam. Ever since he came to your village with his family, he was rather sweet. Every morning he went out of his way to personally bring you breakfast, and he even learned 'finger talk' (as he calls it) for you. Your heart lit up at each and every one of his gestures. Nobody had ever been this caring for you.

Flashback

Neteyam walks into your Marui, a tray of food in his hand as he kneels down next to you. "Hi y/n," he said, flushed. You smile and wave to him, watching as he set the tray down on your mat. You gazed down at the food before you, examining everything. It seemed to be sliced and grilled fish, along with leaf-wraped teylu. "Um-" Neteyam stammers for a moment, trying to figure out how to communicate with you. He points to you with his index finger and balls his fist, gesturing it down twice.

Are you horny?

You furrow your eyebrows at the translation, mouth slighty agape in shock. Surely he didn't mean that, right? Before you can fully react, he spoke. "Are you.. hungry?"

So that's what he meant to say. Okay.

You smile giddily, holding a hand up and shaking your head as you sign back to him. "Hungry is only one move down, like this;" You show him. "Horny, is two. You said it wrong, Neteyam." You rest your arms in your lap afterward.

Once he realizes, his cheeks immediately form a bright shade of pink. "Oh! I-I'm so sorry, y/n. I really did not mean that, I swear." He panicked a little. You could tell his embarrassment was taking up his mind, the bottom of his tail is curving up and down, flicking rapidly. You never understood how anyone could lose themselves so quickly. Ever since you were young, you'd been taught that to always stay calm and patient, to never let your emotions overcome you. But of course, the forest people did it differently than you.

You place a palm on his chest at an attempt to help him relax. You flattened your hand and move it to either side, then cupping your hand into a circle and pointing out your index and middle finger, the middle slightly curved.

"It is okay." You shook your head as a way to tell him not to calm himself.

He swiftly nodded, exhaling a deep breath. You smile as his heart beat switches back to normal, now bringing your hands away.

"But, yes, I was hungry. Thank you, Neteyam."

"Of course, no... problem."

He struggles with the last words, but is able to make it work. Neteyam waves goodbye before leaving your Marui, dipping his head underneath the curtained door.

Flashback end

After he'd finished your braid, he taps your shoulder, signaling for you to face him. Your eyes open and you turn your body around, beaming at your mate.

"Does it look good, ma Teyam?" You signed. It took him a minute to process what you said, but he understood you in no time. "It is beautiful, ma tìyawn. Just like you." He pulls you in for a soft and brief kiss, pecking your lips. You simper against his mouth, cupping your hands on his cheeks as you two rest your foreheads against each other. Neteyam does the same, taking your face in his hands, reciprocating the love and admiration that resides in you.

Withdrawing from the moment, Neteyam speaks. "I have a surprise for you." He smiles, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. You cocked your head in curiosity.

"What is it?" You ask. He reaches into the woven pouch you crocheted for him, coming out with a colorful flora. You gasp with a breath at the sight, face ecstatic. You gently took the flower from his hand, sniffing it's pistil and closing your eyes. Paysyul, your favorite flower on Pandora. You'd only come across it a couple of times— maybe 2 or 3, but even so, each time you saw one, you were overwhelmed with bliss.

A shade of rose pink with lavender sprouts blooming out of it's top, and the arouma, oh great mother, was it the best thing you'd ever smelled. A fresh, and savory-sweet scent. If pink had a smell, this would be it.

Opening your eyes, you gaze at Neteyam. Taking his hand in yours, you focus on his amber orbs. Tracing the glowing freckles scattered around his face. You placed your right hand on your chin, moving it downward downward. Thank you.

Neteyam looks at you with pure love in his eyes, twirling his finger as a signal for you to turn around again. You complied, keeping your legs crossed with each other before turning your body to face the river again.

He massages your shoulders for a moment, leaving tender kissing along your upper back. Neteyam reaches his arm around to your lap, grabbing the flower from your cluchted hands and grazing your thigh. You look down for a moment in bashfulness, smiling to yourself. He trailed up to your rigid braid, taking the flower and gently burrowing it in your hair. As you felt him insert the flower, butterflies form in your stomach, reaching up to your fluttering heart. "Done." He simply speaks.

You change your position to sitting on your knees, as does he. You face him once more, eyes shutting as he cups your cheek with his palm. It felt as if there was a dome of love protecting you. Nothing can hurt you while you're in his presence, you've always missed him, you've always yearned for this love. It was only up until now you'd saw it. He saw you, and you saw him.

A/N: I know this was rather short, but I didn't want to make it toooo long since I'm only introducing this. <3 There will definitely be a part 2, and more to come. I love you all sm, mwah!

part two here

tags: @sunghoonmyluv

[anukulee]

Collaboration Audio (Matt Smith Edition

Links

Crown Q & A

The Crown (Charlie Rose)

Chatting About The Crown (BUILD Interview)

@wheredafandomat @lokisprettygirl @lokisprettygirl22 @eleniblue @smolvenger @daemontargaryenwhore @daemontargaryenstan @mattsmithupdate @mattsmithshair @mattsmithmakescutefaces @daemontargaryensbitch @daemontargaryenwife @daemontargaryencollection @aesonmae

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Stay Still | B. Durran |

Bodhi Durran x fwb!fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, MDNI, swearing, p in v, (unprotected sex pls pls be safe), cockwarming, not proofread well, switch!Bodhi, possessive!Bodhi, bratty!reader, poorly written smut, smut with little plot

A/n: hehhe this came out of my ass idk what got into me during my reading bonanza last night 🤭. I just felt truly inspired to try to write a full smut. This is my first official smut I’ve wrote so I would love feedback to improve on it if you have it, but I hope you find this as fun as I did!!

You sighed boredly laying on Bodhi’s bed, stomach pressed against the plush mattress, idly looking over a book about runes you tried to occupy your thoughts with. It had been thirty minutes since you arrived at the Section Leader’s door looking for some company in nothing but your black dressing robe and matching tiny nightgown underneath. Anticipating when he opened his door, he’d haughtily pull you into his quarters and ravish you like a man starved…but no. He merely gave you a once over before letting you in, and sat back at his desk doing his research on wards for Xaden.

You wanted to help as much as he did with resurrecting the wardstones for your friends, but now it had impeded on yours and his arrangement. It’s been two weeks since you last found yourself in the embrace of the man you craved, and you were desperate for the attention you lacked. It had become an unspoken routine you two had secretly engaged in since after Threshing last year. Only using each other other than for just distractions from the trials of surviving the Rider’s Quadrant at night, while during the day you were just squad mates.

You could feel another wave of heat go through your core at the thought of the secret that the two of you shared. You had been fighting the wanton desire since the last time you had found each other. Not that you weren’t satisfied by Bodhi, but you never stopped wanting him it had become glaringly obvious for you. You had even resorted to giving into flirty banter with Ridoc in front of him to get the Flame Section Leader’s acknowledgment, left with not even a sarcastic remark or scolding look on his part. Since Violet returned from Samara, there was a dire urgency to find answers on the wardstone.

But today was exemplarily tougher to push that ache down. After a rather intensive Flame Section sparring session after classes, you had been forced to watch Bodhi spar without drooling. His shirt discarded halfway through the session when he was challenged by Sawyer, the sweat glistening off his chiseled muscles. As if he knew the effect he had on you. The relic that swirled over his bulky biceps and veiny forearms and his dragon relic that loitered on the back of his left sharp shoulder blade down to the side of his refined torso. You had to take an extra cold shower once all the girls left the locker room to calm the burning desire that consumed you which proved to be no help.

You got off the bed, and made your way to him feeling impatient as your core throbbed once more. His back was towards you, displaying his relics that you admired and worshiped in the solace of the night. Your arms wrapping around his chest from behind, your nails lightly scratching his broad bare chest.

“Boh,” you whined, nipping at his earlobe. “Are you done yet?” You asked, a simper to your tone. The arousal in between your legs getting too heavy to bare, and clenching your thighs was no longer an option to fight the want for him. You wanted him now. No—you needed him, and you weren’t going to deprive yourself another minute.

“I don’t have much longer until I finish this section.” He murmured. He screwed his eyes shut trying to focus on the text in front of him, tilting his neck out of instinct to the side letting your lips press needy kisses down to his shoulder.

He had known when he saw you at your door in your skimpiest night clothes what you wanted. Finally making a move in the unintentional stalemate between the both of you. It didn’t fall on to blind eyes the way you went out of your way to be bratty throughout the last two weeks, attempting to get a rise out of him. It almost worked, but never being a jealous man, and clever enough to see right through you. The flirty comments to Ridoc, the way he could feel your alluring eyes burn holes into him during any time he was in the vicinity of you. He almost felt guilty leaving you hanging and to resort to blatant facades of making him jealous, a silent plea to just take you already.

He wanted to do nothing, but to fuck you and remind you who you belonged to.

You looked enticing, and every primal thought that flooded his mind he pushed down to the back of his mind when you appeared in front of his door. The churam he smoked an hour ago doing nothing to stop his chest from hammering, and the blood rushing to his manhood, twitching, at the sight of you. He had to use every ounce of his self discipline to keep his composure in check, letting you in without pouncing, devouring you like he wanted. Xaden would arrive back in Basgiath tomorrow expecting intel, and he hadn’t gotten very far in his research besides dead ends.

Your name got stuck in his throat barely sputtering it out as you sucked on the spot that you knew drove him wild, the conjunction of his neck and shoulder.

You weren’t exclusive with Bodhi, but you had learned everything about him that made him tick. From the littlest things like how his eyes lingered when your flight jacket was slightly undone bearing the slightest bit of cleavage in the low cut tank top you wore underneath—to what made him absolutely feral—the feeling of your lips with your teeth marking his sweet spot that would be barely concealed by the collar of his tight black training shirt the next day. Noting how he would wear the mark proudly like the patches on his jacket. Having a boyish grin when a squad mate would bring it up playing coy. No one knew they were left by you.

“I’ll help you after…” you purred, your hands traveling down his torso to the waistband of his night pants. Fingers nimbly tracing the barely grown out hair that led underneath the cotton. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you.” You pouted before peppering more kisses on his cheeks, feeling satisfied at the sharp intake of air he took at the movement.

You would get your way, there would be no other outcome of you showing up at his door tonight than to be ruined by Bodhi Durran.

“I’m expected to have something to report on tomorrow.” He protested weakly, savoring your mouth against jaw, but still keeping his eyes on the parchment.

His dissolve was close to crumbling, feeling the cold fingertips slip underneath his waistband. All he wanted to do was bend you over his desk, imagining your cheek pressed to the ancient texts laid out on the wooden surface as he railed into you from behind. His cock hardened more at the idea of him inside you.

“Xaden won’t-” you were cut off by the scrape of the wooden chair against the stone floor making you stumble backwards slightly. Bodhi abruptly slid his bottoms down, revealing half hardened manhood, sitting back down in the chair.

“C’mere,” he growled. His tone had a dangerous lilt to it, only making the wetness that had pooled in your panties grow more. His usual warm brown eyes blown out filled with something more than lust.

Your throat ran dry, obeying as you stepped in between his legs. He leaned his forehead against your stomach, inhaling steady breaths as if he could smell your arousal. His rough hands gripping your bare outer thighs before slipping under your nightgown, roughly kneading the soft flesh of your ass. Then he hooked his fingers around the fabric of your undergarments dragging them down your legs.

“You want me to fuck you, but have another man’s name leave your lips?” He gritted out through his, barely speaking above a whisper.

Bodhi knew he was overreacting, but when his cousin’s name came out of your mouth, his primal instincts came bubbling to the surface. A feral fire fueling him, no longer to be tamed. How dare you bring up Xaden, when you came here solely looking for relief from him after acting the way you’ve been.

You were taken aback by the words, leaving you stammering. “I-I’m sorry, Boh..”

This was a new side to him, you’ve never seen before. A nervous pang made your heart skip a beat, though excited at the aggressiveness in his actions.

“You think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing the last two weeks?” He cupped the back of one of your thighs, bringing a leg over his. “Think you were being sly?” He questioned.

You shook your head furiously, forgetting how to speak momentarily.

He pinched the inside of your thigh, only adding to the fire that blazed in your core, a soft gasp leaving your slacked jaw. “Use your words, babygirl.”

“N-no,” the words airily released from your throat, a pink tint to your cheeks.

He smirked, a dry laugh escaping him. “That's what I thought.” He dragged your other leg over his so you were now straddling him, knees perched on the extra wide seat. “Since you want to be a brat, you can sit on my cock until I’m done here.” He held his member with one hand, pumping slowly. “You got it?”

You gulped, watching how it twitched ever slightly, and his shoulders relaxed as he held himself. Nodding eagerly, biting your lip, still looking between the both of you awaiting for him to be inside you.

His free hand wrapped around your hair, pulling it, forcing you to look in his eyes. “What did I say about your words?” He growled. A soft moan left your lips at the gesture. His darkened brown eyes wavered in hunger and pride at the reaction.

“Y-yes, please…” you begged, feeling him rub the tip against your slick folds.

“Good girl, so wet for me,” he groaned.

He slowly inserted himself at your entrance, his hand finding your hip to help lower yourself on to him until he bottomed out inside you. His thick member stretching you out in a blissful sting that he could make you feel. You both sighed at the feeling, and you rested your head in the crook of his neck holding on to him with a near death grip.

You could feel yourself throb as he went back to working. His hands lightly brushing your sides every time he flipped a page or went to jot a note down in his notebook, causing jolts to go down your body. You tried to grind your hips to provide the teeniest bit of relief, Bodhi would only grip your thighs with a bruising force.

“Stay still,” he hissed, his head rolling back as he felt you clench around him again. A small smirk graced your lips, an idea coming to your mind.

One of your hands slid in between you, and found your clit. You moaned, as your fingers circled the sensitive nub.

“Y/n…” he warned, listening to the sweet noises you made in his ear, gripping the quill in his hand tightly. He had thought he had the upper hand in this, but as you touched yourself, his cock warming your insides, he felt the remaining bit of his dissolve crumble. “You’re such a fucking brat.” He held your hips, halting your movements.

“Do something about it then.” You challenged, pressing a chaste kiss to his full lips.

He thrusted up into you, sounds sweet as sin coming from your throats. A wicked smile twisted on to your face, finally. “I fully intend to.” He mumbled, pulling you into another kiss, this time longer and heated. You nipped at his lower lip, earning a hiss from him as you slipped your tongue into his mouth.

Drilling into you at a slow agonizing pace, your tongues fought for dominance, the kiss becoming broken up between strings of noises leaving the both of you. The slow burn pleasure painstakingly from the pace he had set. You tried to lower yourself up and down to go at a faster pace and to your dismay he slowed his movements more, squeezing your hips in caution.

You pulled away panting, “more.” You were a whimpering mess, frustrated to find your release. “Please, Bodhi.”

“Just because you get what you want doesn’t mean you still can’t be punished.” A lazy smirk etched on to his broad jaw. “I have to remind you who you belong to.”

He slowly thrusted up into you again, making you cry out. His face contorted to a look of pleasure as he provided deep slow strokes into you, the sight of him biting his now bruised lip heavenly.

“I’m yours, please.” You begged, nails biting into his shoulders. “Only yours.” You cried when he thrusted particularly harder when you said that.

“Y’ feel so good around me.” He drawled. “Like your pussy was made for me, sweetheart.” His words caused an effect on your whole body from your pussy clenching harder around him to your heart swelling from the praise.

The atmosphere felt entirely different from the usual casual hook ups from before. His forehead resting against yours, occasionally nuzzling your nose with his whispering lines of worship for you taking his time.

“Feels so good,” you panted, looping your fingers in his curls at the nape of his neck. You could feel yourself go dumb as his fingers found your clit, circling it with the same agonizing pace of his cock. You don’t know how much of this you could take. “Please, please, please let me ride you.”

“Do you deserve to ride me?” He taunted in between thrusts.

You nodded vigorously, “please let me make you feel good, Boh. Please.”

He stopped playing with your clit, bringing his fingers to your swollen lips. You sucked your juices off of them, tasting yourself as he leaned back in the chair.

“Mm, since you’ve been begging so nicely.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The moans you released as you fucked yourself onto Bodhi’s cock were angelic. Letting you lower yourself up and down, watching as you got lost, getting drunk on his manhood. His hands had a firm grip on your waist, helping guide you down his length.

“That’s it, ride me like the good slut you are.” He watched your cunt sink onto him, swallowing his length whole.

You could start to feel the familiar coil of release start to come undone, and you knew you weren’t gonna last long. The sounds of your slick and his pants encouraging you to go faster.

Bodhi sensed the way you gripped him, you were going to climax, and met your rhythm bucking his hips upward. “You gonna come f’me?” He asked.

You could only mewl in response, the pleasure rendering you speechless as you rode him harder. Your vision blurred with stars, your body going rigid from the surge of tingling pleasure that electrified your body. The coil finally unraveling in your core as you orgasmed. You let out a throaty moan that was muffled by his lips, kissing passionately.

The tawny skinned man didn’t stop his movements, feeling his own release chasing yours. His aching cock twitched in need of relief. He muttered curses, his pace getting sloppier as he whimpered your name.

“Come for me, Boh.” You whispered softly. His arms wrapped tightly around your midsection, clinging to you like his life depended on it as he kept fucking you.

You felt the twitch, and his release shoot into you, a guttural groan following it. Feeling the mix of your arousals seeping out of you, his cock throbbing.

The heavy breathing from the both of you was the only noise in the room, you two staying in the position. You lightly scratched his scalp letting him regain his composure, his arms loosely holding you still. After a minute, he leaned away looking at you silently.

The intense gaze made you self conscious, clearing your throat as indication you were getting up. His arms only tightened around you once more, but he let his cock sink out of you, feeling your releases cover both of your thighs.

“I should get going,” you stated bluntly.

“Stay the night?” He reached over for the t-shirt that was crumpled on the floor beside his desk. Gingerly wiping you off first, being extremely gentle and careful to not be too abrasive with your sensitive parts, before he cleaned himself off.

You blinked in surprise, he never asked that before—let alone so nonchalant. You two never stayed too long in one another’s quarters after, let alone spend the night with one another. This would encroach the boundaries you mentally placed on this arrangement, ultimately entangling what you had already felt for the man in front of you.

“Aren’t you worried someone will see?” You asked warily.

He offered his usual boyish grin. “That’s kind of the point, sweetheart.”

Personally the pacing was weird for me to write, but I hope it gave you guys what you needed! The idea of fwb possessive Bodhi now has me in a chokehold lmao. Like I said, I am always open to improvements and feedback as this was a bit out of my comfort zone 🫶🏻🩷

[lilgoblinbitch]

The Archer Finds a Soulmate 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

girl dad!daryl dixon x fem!reader

a/n: this idea was offered by @yummymeee !! was trying to find fluffy daryl prompts and this one stuck with me.

summary: Daryl is a father of a young girl and has always had trouble trusting new people. When he meets you, everything changes.

warnings: none really, typical twd stuff, just some angst and fluff at the end :)

Daryl Dixon was left raising a child in the apocalypse. He didn't expect to find himself taking care of a baby all by himself after the mother of his child ended up hiding it from him, and on her death bed begging Daryl to keep the baby safe. Of course, Daryl would love his baby girl till the day he died. She was the light of his life. She was the only thing left in this cruel world that reminded him of what made life worth living.

Five years after the start of the apocalypse, Daryl was extremely lucky to have been part of a large community that actually showed not only him, but his little girl, charity and companionship. All he wished for was a safe home and chance for his daughter to grow up happy. Because he never got to have a happy childhood himself, it almost felt imperative for him to manifest his own happiness and prosperity by giving his own kid that opportunity.

"Jasmine! Get outta that pile'a crap and c'mere!"

The five-year-old girl lay on her back in mound of dirt and leaves, swishing her arms and legs back and forth. "Daddy, look! I'm making a dirt angel!"

Daryl scoffed as he peered over at his daughter, who was collecting bits of leaves and sticks and dirt in her hair and probably covering every inch of the fabric of her outfit. An outfit that Carol had recently washed, because it originally got stained with orange juice and pudding. Unfortunately little predicaments like that were bound to happen to any little kid. It didn't bother Daryl, he just didn't want to put more of a burden on Carol.

Daryl stood up from the log he was sitting on, setting the dead rabbit he was working on skinning to the side. "Jas! Ya want food or not?" He called out, waving the playful child over to him. She perked her head up at him, her dark curly hair now decorated with bits of colorful leaves and sticks, almost making her hair look like a Christmas tree in some way. The child obeyed and jumped up from the ground, shaking off the dirt that layered her clothing. And of course, they needed to be washed again.

Joining her father by the fire, Jasmine plopped down on the log across from him and simpered at him. He smiled back after examining her youthful grin and spotting the smeared dirt on her face. "Ya got dirt on yer face, silly girl. Here, wipe yer hands and face with this." He handed her a towel, one that was adorned with pink and purple flowers. She loved that little beach towel. She snatched it out of her father's hands and hastily rubbed it all over her face and hands, then tossing it on the ground. Daryl sighed in distress.

"How many more things of yers we gotta ask Carol to wash?"

"We're outside, daddy. There is dirt, and you say dirt makes us dirty. So it's got to make everything else dirty, right?" Her enthusiasm never failed to make him grin and forget what he was even upset at her about.

"A'ight, watch me, ready?" Daryl grabbed the dead rabbit and continued skinning it, making sure Jasmine was watching him. Her face contorted in disgust.

"I don't wanna do that, daddy! It's gross and it hurts the rabbit."

He ignored her complaining and continued skinning it. "It's dead already. Didn't feel any pain, I promise," he reassured the child. "I just needed to show ya how yer dad makes yer all-time favorite food: rabbit stew."

The little girl shook her head. "No, my favorite food is Carol's cookies, and the Kingdom's cobbler!"

Daryl rolled his eyes, finishing up skinning the rabbit and then sticking it on a stick and placing it over the fire. Throughout their meal, Daryl told her about the time he first ever had to eat rabbit, and how he was around her age. His daughter was always absolutely thrilled to hear stories, especially from her father. She admired him more than he realized. And she looked forward to every Thursday afternoon, because that's when Daryl took her out for walks in the woods, pointing out various plants and showing her how to differentiate between animal tracks and walker tracks. Of course, she was too young to fully understand everything he taught her, but it made him more comfortable knowing that she was learning early on.

Some nights Daryl lay awake, tossing and turning only to say "fuck it" and go out in the woods where he could ease his mind, while his daughter was already fast asleep in the room across the hall. He loved being alone in the woods; just him and no one else to disturb him for a few hours.

However, one night he ended up acquiring company from an unexpected individual: you. Daryl didn't know very much about you, besides the fact that you joined Alexandria not too long after he and his group did. You were quiet and reserved, always keeping to yourself and never being found in large crowds because you were always more content when alone. Daryl often found himself following you into the woods to see what you even did out there, but you were just too quick to spy on. And truthfully, you were afraid of Daryl. You had seen how similar he was to you in some ways; his love for nature and serenity and the comfort of being isolated from the loudness of the community you lived in. You observed him going into the woods and not coming back out for hours, just as you did. He ended up becoming a valued member of Alexandria as he helped Aaron recruit new members to the community. He was becoming more outspoken than you, and that seemed to make you nervous.

Tonight, curiosity got the best of you and you decided to go and see what it was that Daryl the archer father did late at night in the woods, all alone.

Daryl did not anticipate anyone to be as good of a tracker as he was, especially in the dark of night. But being the daughter of a hunter father ended up advantaging you with that skill. So when he heard footsteps and prepared to send an arrow flying and landing between the eyes of a walker, but ended up being face to face with you, he was surprised to say the least.

"Hey, um, Daryl right?" Your flashlight beamed onto his face, and he squinted. "Sorry," you turned it off and shoved it in your pocket, "I just, um...I always see you out here, and I'm always out here, so..."

"So what?" Daryl wasn't in the mood for visitors, especially not annoyingly beautiful women such as yourself. You made him nervous.

Daryl kicked the dirt around with his feet, not looking up at you as you continued to speak to him. "Look, I'm not really a people person, and you probably want nothing to do with me because I never talked to you before...but I–" you stopped to look down at the dirt and shuffle your feet in it as well, involuntarily mimicking Daryl. "I dunno, I just need a friend, I think."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you now, the glow of the small fire illuminating his auburn hair and the specks of hair on his beard. You swallowed hard, becoming a nervous wreck under his hard gaze. "Why me?" Was all he managed to say after studying your face. You finally made eye contact with him after mustering up the courage to do so. He had pretty eyes.

"Because I think we're alike in a lot of ways." You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaned against the thick tree beside you. "And honestly, you're one of the only people I know of that has better tracking skills than me," you added, voice soft and unsure. Unsure of what the mysterious man in front of you was thinking. It seemed like he had so much going on in his head all the time, and that's because he did. His thoughts raced, thoughts about you and how pretty you looked under the sparkling fire and why the hell you were talking to a loser single dad like him.

But you didn't see him like that. You were intimidated by him – always have been, except this time he intimidated you in a way you never expected. He made you want to open up to him, because you could tell now that he was just like you. You went your whole life never wanting to be seen by anyone, but Daryl changed that.

Daryl's lack of words left you in your thoughts once again. What if that was his sign for you to scram? What if he hated you? What if he thought you were a fucking creep for sneaking up on him in the middle of the night in the woods? You couldn't handle the fear of rejection so you took matters into your own hands.

Sighing in defeat, you turned on your heal and started for the other direction back to Alexandria, until you were abruptly stopped in your tracks.

"Wait."

Daryl did not wish for you to leave. He believed you. You were like him. "Ya wanna come hunting?"

Your eyes lit up in elation, and you smiled at him. "Yeah, I'd love to."

After a only a few weeks, you and Daryl became friends. He properly introduced you to his daughter Jasmine, who when meeting you for the first time told you, "You're pretty!" It melted your heart. Yours and Daryl's friendship grew drastically from then on. You respected him a lot, as he did you. The two of you were able to teach each other things about nature and hunting that the other had no clue about; you taught Daryl which herbs were best for different things, and he taught you how to shoot with a crossbow. Of course, your bow and arrow and your dagger were just enough for you already, but it pleased you to know that Daryl actually wanted to teach you.

Soon enough it was evident that you and Daryl were growing a deeper connection than the two of you originally anticipated. But somehow you weren't scared of it. You felt content around him, and it was clear that he felt that way about you, too.

"Jasmine!" Daryl called out, frantically searching the woods for his pesky little daughter. The sun was setting over the tree line ahead of him, clouds painted orange and pink. It was going to be dark soon, and he had no idea where his daughter had run off to.

Daryl found his feet moving on their own, eyes shifting around his surroundings while he attempted to track the footsteps of his daughter. "Jas! C'mon let's go!" Suddenly the sound of a twig snapping filled the air. His heartbeat quickened, and his paternal instincts kicked in. He raced toward the sound, crossbow at the ready.

He was just about ready to shoot whatever was hiding behind the tree but when he saw you walking with Jasmine he stopped in his tracks, lowering his weapon. You and Jasmine both glanced up at him simultaneously, and the little girl ran up to her father and hugged him. A sigh of relief overcame him as he bent down to hug her back. You beamed down at the two of them, admiring how touching the sight was.

"Where were ya?" Daryl stood back up, moving his focus between both you and his daughter. You could tell he was trying his hardest to stay calm, but the fact that his daughter was running off in the woods without him made him feel uneasy and on edge.

"Don't worry, I found her by a stream back there. She told me she wanted to learn how to catch frogs," you reassured him. He grinned and looked down at the girl, who was carrying a red bucket full of croaking amphibians.

"Look how many I caught, daddy!" She lifted the bucket up to Daryl and he peered into it. "Well someone's a professional frog catcher now, ey?" He teased.

The three of you reached the gates and Jasmine hurriedly ran down the street to the other kids outside. You smiled and turned to Daryl, who was already staring at you. You blushed and looked down at your feet.

"Sorry, I should have told you she was with me. She just seemed so excited and I couldn't say no, so–"

"Nah. Don't need to apologize," he interrupted, reaching his hand up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "I, uh, thank you, fer watchin' her."

A gentle breeze drifted through your hair and you brushed stray strands out of your face, all the while Daryl shifted his weight and gathered the pith to express his feelings at that moment. He needed to get it off his chest.

Your doe eyes only impelled him further.

"Uh..." his anxious eyes finally met your passionate ones. "I think Jas might enjoy having ya over fer dinner t'night."

This time you tittered, nodding your head enthusiastically. "If this is your way of wanting more of my company, just say it, Daryl." Your face muscles seriously ached from smiling so hard. "I... I like you. And I would love to come over, honestly, any time."

Daryl's face flushed a shade of pink you'd never seen on him before. It made you giddy. "I like ya too."

That moment felt so cliche – it felt like you and Daryl were part of a silly teenage romcom film. But you two earned that cliche moment. You were surprisingly capable of harvesting a healthy connection with someone who really meant a lot to you.

The magnetic pull between the two of you grew stronger and stronger, reeling your body closer to his. Your hand instinctively brushed against his, making Daryl's insides mushy.

A smirk ran across yours lips and you grabbed Daryl's hand firmly. "C'mon, let's go make some food for tonight."

That evening you cooked venison stew for Daryl and his daughter, by gratitude of the huge buck Daryl scored earlier that morning. Secretly you loved to cook, but you'd only ever cook for someone who was special to you; back in the day you'd always cook for your father after he'd go out hunting and bring back game that gave you an opportunity to create a mouth-watering recipe. Today, that special someone was Daryl. You truly believed he deserved a decent meal from you after everything he'd done for you. He won your trust and respect – even more so your love.

"Thank you."

Daryl was sprawled out on the couch, staring up at you as you had finished cleaning up the dishes. He had already tucked Jasmine into bed up stairs, afterward coming back down to gawk at you.

You wiped your hands on a towel and set it on the counter, turning your attention the the comfortable man on the couch. "No need to thank me. I wanted to cook for you." You joined him on the couch, drowning in the soft cushion and taking in the homey vibe of his living room.

He sat up, turning his body toward you. That expression was painted on his face again – the one that told you he was doubting himself, or that he was trying really hard to articulate his emotions. You took his hands in yours, a decision that caught Daryl by surprise. "You don't need to doubt yourself anymore. I know what you're feeling, trust me."

Your reassurance kindled the spark of courage Daryl so desperately needed. It was as if you were his god, his creator – the one to send him the message from the sky to tell him it was his time to listen to his heart. And so he did.

The archer's rough, calloused fingers traced shapes over the dry skin of your hands. Your gaze melted him like plastic by the fire, and the words your spoke to him spilled from your lips like a prayer.

"Kiss me, Daryl."

Carefully Daryl parted his lips while searching your face for any uncertainties; there were none. And so he kissed you. He kissed you like you were a porcelain doll, suppressing his strength as to not break you. He wanted this kiss to last forever, and so did you.

Daryl trusted his gut that you were the one for him, and boy was that the best decision he ever made right there and then.

[moooxy]

mean!jim hopper smut?

Harmless (18+)

MINORS DNI

Pairing: Mean!Jim Hopper x Reader

Synopsis: Every time you hang out with Jonathan, Joyce’s friend drives you home.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: possessiveness, dumbification, dirty talk, overall mean hopper, rough grabbing, slapping, semi-public sex, threats, size kink, face-fucking, daddy kink, creampie

AN: oh I’ve been waiting for a hopper request for so long

It wasn’t your place to say, but you quite liked Hopper. Whenever he wasn’t so serious, his sense of humour was cute and quick-witted. You liked to mess with him; talking back to him when he splashed his authority onto you and Jon, teasing him whenever he looked too solemn.

It wasn’t your place to say, but you quite liked Hopper. Whenever he wasn’t so serious, his sense of humour was cute and quick-witted. You liked to mess with him; talking back to him when he splashed his authority onto you and Jon, teasing him whenever he looked too solemn.

However, you don’t think he liked you very much. Sure he faked a simper around Joyce, but between you and him… he stayed as stoic as ever. And god, whenever you talked back to him you could feel the annoyance vibrating in his blood. As fun as it was for you, he didn’t reciprocate the amusement.

As a plan to get some peace and quiet, Joyce started to kick the both of you out when she tended to routinely ask Hopper to give you a ride home. Neither of you had the heart to disappoint the sweet Joyce Byers, so you went along with it.

You visited Jon a few times a week, and each time Hopper drove you home. Each time you tried to make the ride less awkward, by attempting to strike up a conversation or flicking through his music tapes—but he was impenetrable.

It was a Friday night, and Hopper’s shitty car bounced as you both got in. You hated his car; it was ugly, jouncy, noisy and it tended to wildly splutter at random times. Taking a deep breath to overcome the immense amount of intimidation you felt asking him a normal question, you speak up. “Can you drop me at the diner? It’s on the way—“

“Why?” He asks, flicking on his headlights.

“I uhm, I have a date.”

“With who? Thought you were with Jonathan,” he grumbles.

“No, he’s dating Nancy Wheeler. And it’s with uh— Billy Hargrove,” you let out.

“Oh definitely not,” he snarls. “Not with that kid.” You don’t dare to argue, his aura of authority ignites— he wants no challenge from you.

You don’t say a word when you leave his car, after he drops you off outside your house.

The next few times you visit Jon, you don’t stick around and wait for Hopper. You started to bring your bike again, so you’d just walk straight past Hopper and ride home. A week later on Saturday, he catches you out. It’s dark out, he snatches your wrist just as you’re about to leave.

“It’s too late to bike. I’ll take you,” he grunts. He mumbles a short goodbye to Joyce, before he leads you out, his hand hovering over the small of your back. He loads your bike in the trunk, his car jolts forward when he piles into the driver's seat. He turns the key, and the silence between you is disturbed by the choking of his engine. “So, you’ve been avoidin’ me?”

You choke on your own saliva at the unexpected confrontation. “Uhm… I’d think of it more as doing you a favour.” You say as he finally pulls out of the driveway.

“How so?”

“Well, I know you’re not very fond of me. I know you’d rather hang out with Joyce more than driving me home…” you explain.

He snorts, “hang out with Joyce? We’re not teenagers,” he mumbles and you shrug. “I’d rather you get home safe.”

“Well, that’s your job Chief.” You tease.

“Alright, don’t get too cocky now,” he says. “I’m just lookin’ out for you, ‘s all. Don’t want you to get your heart broken by that fuckin’ Hargrove kid.”

“You’re not my daddy,” you mumble.

“Okay…? Like I said, just lookin’ out for ya.” He says, pulling up to the curb outside of your house. “Out, kid.”

You scoff, “thanks for the ride, daddy.” Hopper watches you rig your bike out of his trunk, letting out a strangled exhale when you walk inside your house. You made his dick fucking twitch when you called him ‘daddy’, and he instantly senses that something bad’s gonna happen.

A few days later, you’re climbing in his car again. He has news to tell you this time, and you can tell something’s up because of his stiffness— well, he’s more stiff than usual.

“Saw that kid kissin’ another girl at the bar,” he grumbles into the tense atmosphere of his car.

“Hopper, you really think I’m seeing him because I wanna be his girlfriend?” You ask with a slight chortle. He grunts in response, confused. He signals for you to elaborate. “I’m only going out with him because…” you stop yourself, already oversharing.

“‘Cus of what?”

“Well… It’s silly but— I heard he’s got a big—”

“Oh you gotta be kiddin’ me,” he says with a judgemental huff. “Where is your self respect?”

“Oh so I let a guy fuck me once and all of the sudden I have no self-respect?” You scoff, turning away from him. You’re pissed off. “I have needs.”

“Well sugar, I have needs too but you don’t see me going around and finding a slut with the ‘tightest pussy’, do ya?” He sternly mumbles, a hint of ridicule laced in his tone.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Well so is he so I don’t see the problem,” he replies.

“The problem is: I’m not using you for your cock, so it actually matters if you’re an asshole to me,” you seethe.

You see his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Don’t get mouthy with me, girl.”

“Or what?” You scorn, gritting your teeth as you look out of the window.

“Or I’ll fucking pull over,” he snarls.

“Yeah? And do what? You’re harmless,” you deride him.

“You wanna find out?” He looks over at you, threatening you.

“You won’t do shit—“ and with that, he’s steering off to the side of the road, it’s a conveniently quiet area surrounded by trees.

“Get out,” he growls, jumping out of his seat and stomping over to your side. “You wanna act like a slut, you get treated like one,” he rumbles, trapping you against the side of his car. The bitter air caresses your bare thighs, the wind causing your skirt to aggressively fly up. “On your fuckin’ knees.”

You don’t dare to disrespect him, you’re fucking in for it now. Yeah, you did want to wind him up, you did find him attractive, you did find him fun to play with—but you really blew it now.

“Open your mouth,” he commands. “And I swear to god if you say ‘make me’ I’ll fucking dislocate your jaw,” he grunts. Instantly, your mouth flies open and he almost laughs. You’d be lying if you said his dominance wasn’t making you wet. “Good slut, you look so pretty right now.”

You don’t dare to take your eyes off his, you hear his belt clink as he tugs it off. After you hear a quick zip, he takes himself out. He’s so fucking big, he’s even comparing his size to your face. He strokes himself, his length reaches your forehead— and he’s incredibly thick too. He slaps your tongue with his cock, tauntingly chuckling at the evident fear in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, sugar? Thought you liked big cocks,” he teases, his honey voice laced with sticky threat.

“Not as big as yours—“ you say but he curtly slaps your face with his thick fingers.

“When did I say you could talk?” He grumbles, “bad fucking slut.” And with that, he slides himself into your mouth. “Not a sound from you,” he commands and you nod as best as you can.

He moistens himself up with the saliva in your mouth, slathering his cock with your spit and then thrusting himself back in, slowly. He’s only halfway in and you already feel like gagging, he’s already cutting off your air supply. He thrusts himself in your mouth— you’re not really doing much sucking, he’s using you as a fuck toy. Everytime you close your eyes he slaps your cheek, and a proud smile emits on his face when he sees your glassy eyes. “If only you were this quiet when you haven’t got a cock stuffed in your throat. God, everytime you run your mouth I’m doing this,” he grumbles. “You really are a good girl deep down, aren’t you?”

You hum, when you blink a tear drops from your eyelashes.

“Poor baby, crying on daddy’s cock. I’d feel bad for you but fuck— you had this coming,” he mumbles with a grin. He pulls out of your mouth, and he feels his knees go weak at the sight. “Fuck—it’s drippin’ down your chin,” he almost moans. Your saliva is drizzling down from your bottom lip. “Come on honey,” he opens his back door, “I’ll look after ya.”

He slides in, patting his knee and you eagerly follow him. He has you on his lap, hard cock springing up. He slides your panties out of the way, silently thanking you for wearing a skirt. You sink down onto him with a strangled moan, and he chuckles evilly.

“Look at you. Sugar, I’m going to fucking devour you,” he rasps and you whine into his neck.

And that’s exactly what he does.

It’s not long before he has you bouncing on his cock, your legs aching and you’re begging him to make you slow down. He doesn’t listen, his hands continue to bounce you repeatedly on his huge cock. You’re so close already, and you try your hardest to wait and save yourself from the embarrassment— but he knows, he can read you like a fucking book.

“Sugar,” he moans out. “I can feel you tightenin’ around me,” he groans. “You gonna cum?”

“Yes,” you whine, “please.”

“Fuck, say please again and I’ll let you cum right fuckin’ now,” Hopper groans, spreading your cheeks open and slamming you down onto his cock.

“Please, please,” you mewl.

“Good slut. Good fucking slut,” he gasps. You finally let loose, pussy spasming around his length as you’re finally able to cum. “You feel so good,” he mumbles, still bouncing you up and down. “Don’t worry sugar, keep making those cute little sounds and I’ll cum soon,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. “God, you’re perfect for me. Should have fucked this pussy sooner,” he says and you nod in agreement. “You’re fucked stupid, bet you don’t even know what I said, do you?” He chuckles and you nod again— he was right. He always was, he knew you so well in such a short amount of time. “Fuck ‘m close,” he groans. You lean in to kiss him but he turns his head and you frown. “I don’t do kissing, sugar.”

You hum in disappointment, arms clutching onto his shoulders. He stops bouncing you, holding you upright and pummelling into you from below. It produces a vulgar slapping sound, and you feel your eyes rolling back at the pure pleasure and overstimulation you’re feeling right now.

“Perfect pussy, all fucking mine.” He grunts, slapping into you relentlessly. He groans, “I’m close. You want my cum, sugar? You want my cum in your little pussy?” He eggs you along, and you nod vigorously. “Fuuuck,” he groans out. Quickly after that, he stops pounding into you and finally spills inside of you. “That what you needed in order to stop seeing that delinquent kid?”

“God, yes,” you whine.

[so-mordor-itis]

Something as Simple as This

A/N: Aha...I may have gotten a bit carried away with this one, you guys. oopsie doopsie-

"I exist in two places

here and where you are." -Margaret Atwood

–

The drive home felt longer than it should've. Perhaps it was your exhaustion beating against your eyelids, begging for rest. Or it could've been the fact that this work trip went as terrible as you imagined it would. Stiff rooms, barely tolerable coworkers. When you studied journalism in college and had received your degree, you wanted to imagine there would be at least one person you'd like–maybe be considered an acquaintance or a friend.

No. No one in that office space would ever be welcomed in your life besides stacks of newspapers and prints.

At a stop light, you glanced at your phone. Your fingers itched to call Leon again, let him know you were out of the airport and driving home safe. Though you knew you'd be welcomed by an answering machine the moment you tried. He was probably still at work himself. He put his phone on silent just in case. Another part of you just didn't feel like grabbing it. You were so exhausted that the thought of reaching out and plucking your phone would make you crash.

You managed to drive from the stop light to the apartment complex without falling asleep at the wheel. You took a deep breath before exiting the vehicle, taking out a plastic tin of leftovers and a stack of papers you were told to review. Something about scientists studying a new type of fungi. It could definitely wait until tomorrow.

Shuffling items around your arms, you found the key to your apartment and unlocked it–almost dropping your dinner in the process. The hum of the TV greeted you, and your heart dropped: you didn't forget to turn it off before you left, did you? You could almost see the skyrocketing power bill.

You plopped the papers and food on the counter, swiftly approaching the living room, only to see a familiar tuft of blond hair poking out from the couch. You breathed a little sigh of relief, but then guilt flooded your system. He was home, and you didn't call because you figured he wouldn't be.

"Leon?" You called him gently, but he didn't respond. You peered over the couch to find him asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly and at a steady pace. You weren't the only one who was exhausted. He was in his usual gray shirt and sweatpants he wore around the house, and you couldn't help but admire him.

A funny feeling sizzled in your chest. You two had just moved in together–he offered you stay in his apartment, claiming you'd make it more lively. He looked embarrassed when he said that he hated how bare it was, and sometimes he felt like he didn't live in it, simply stayed until he had to go again. You felt your heart tear a little, but at the same time, you felt in awe he thought of anything you liked as homely. That he thought of you as home.

You weren't quite used to it yet. Of not living by yourself, of having signs of another human being live with you. Seeing his toothbrush next to yours, seeing his clothes in the laundry, seeing his nightstand with his work phone and watch next to each other, it made your heart full in a way you couldn't explain. You had already figured he was becoming a part of your life, of your soul. He signed the contract in your heart, and that was that.

It was endearing to think that the other part of your soul was a mere inch away.

You didn't realize how long you'd been staring at him. Leon began to shuffle, and his eyes opened. Those beautiful icy blues found your own and lit up with surprise. "Oh, sweetheart, when did you get home?"

You offered him a small, tired simper. "A little bit ago. Sorry I didn't call, I figured you were at work."

He was on his feet in an instant, circling around the couch to wrap his arms around you tightly. "Not a bad assumption to make," he murmured into your hair. "I don't blame you for it." He let out a satisfied sound, and you felt relieved he was just as happy to see you as you were to see him.

You could've fallen asleep in his arms. He was so warm and safe. You felt like nothing could touch you while he was around. He was your fortress, your safe haven. You knew he felt the same, could feel it in his touch, in the way he spoke. You were his calm when he needed it.

Unfortunately, you knew you would fall asleep. You pried yourself from him, tired eyes blinking slower and slower by the minute. "I'm so tired, I'm probably going to just shower and sleep."

"Jesus, yeah, you look like you're about to keel over." His hand still cupped your waist, rubbing small circles of comfort. "Did they run you into the ground?" He sounded a bit angry now. You had told Leon a bit about your job and how awful your coworkers were. But you were worried that if you told him too much, he'd do something about it. And you knew he had connections.

"Unfortunately," you said, walking past him to find the bedroom you two shared. A hot shower and a nice bed called your name. You wouldn't mind adding Leon cuddling you to that equation, either.

He had followed you, watching as you splashed water on your face. You finally got to look at yourself in the mirror and frowned at the dark half moons under your eyes.

"No shower invite?" He asked teasingly. You caught his gaze in the mirror, a glint of mischief and love in his eyes.

"Not in the mood for anything remotely sexy, Lee."

" I just meant helping you shower." He shrugged. "Not everything has to be dirty," Leon drawled your name, and you laughed.

"Says the one who can't keep his hands off me."

"I just appreciate my partner."

You giggled, and his smile widened. "I'd actually really like the company."

He nodded, grabbing a towel, his towel. "I can't say no to that."

Your chest sizzled with adoration. You supposed this is what people meant by someone being your soulmate. A person who carried the traits you needed, a person who would light up at the simple sound of your name–no, not even your name, the syllable of it. They would gently hand you their soul so you would connect it with theirs, creating a home with your hearts.

--

|Tags:|

@uhlunaro , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @honeyfict , @azul-marie , @leonskillshot , @izuniias , @favouritereadings , @justonemore-fic , @starbird-garden , @starbirdfinch , @konigbabe ,

[ichcor]

synopsis: hot july night, nanami kento's birthday, reader and the birthday boy accidentally got drunk, and the night got steamy

tags: nanami kento x fem/afab!reader, consumption of alcohol, pp riding, reader is a mess, kento is a mess, not proofread

"One more shot should be fine. I don't even feel tipsy at all." you said, and oh, how wrong you were. The drunknen numbness creeped its way into your head like a rush when you finally decided to stand up, your hand immediately searching for something to hold into - which in this case was your coworker and friend's muscular shoulder. "Sorry, give me a second."

"Take your time." he said, his flushed cheeks turned to you as his golden eyes watched you with a slight worry until you found your balance with a deep sigh. He also stood up, ignoring the feeling of the alcohol turning his mind into haze as he buttoned in his suit. "I cannot let you go home all by yourself in this state."

"What state?" you slurred. " 'M fine"

"Mhm" he hummed, watching you walk towards the door of the crowded bar in, what you thought was a straight line, but that could not have been further from the truth. His calloused fingers found the curve of your hip before he helped you out on the door, and his hold stayed on you as you both got hit by the humid, early July air of the night.

"But it's your birthday." you said in protest one more time when he told you he would call a taxi for the two of you and he would accompany you all the way to your home. Suddenly, a stench of guilt grabbed at your heart for making him waste his time and money on you.

"Exactly. That's why I don't want to spend the night worrying whether you got home safe or not." He mumbled as the hand that held you before gently caressed your back before he completely began to focus on calling that taxi while he tried his best to sound as sober as possible. Your drunken gaze lingered on him without shame; noticed the tendons of his forearm flexing under his suit as he tugged at his tie that he no doubt found too tight as the summer air made him sweat. Then why not take off the suit? You thought, before realizing that his other arm was full with your coat and bag that you would've definitely left at the bar if it weren't for him.

"Kento..." you whispered and waited until his eyes left his phone screen and looked at you. "You're so... good to me."

This made him stare at you in silence for such a while that you felt your cheeks flush from the embarrassment, although you had not seen any malice in the golden hue of his eyes. On the contrary, it appeared as if he slipped into another drunken stage while he took in every bit of detail of your face. He finally said, "There's no reason not to. I thoroughly enjoy your company."

There was a softness on his features you had never seen before; the yellow light of the street warm in his dark pupils, his golden hair partially messy from the humid air, the fullness of his lips curving into a light simper. When he closed the distance between you two, your heart fluttered in hopes you get to taste his smile against your own lips, but to your calamity, he merely guided you into the backseat of the car you didn't even notice arriving.

The noise of the lively city got silenced as the car door closed. The AC and the coldness of the window against your temple made you feel a tad better, chased away the weak feeling nausea you had lingering in the back of your throat. You instinctively grab Kento's hand, which had been resting between the two of you, when you feel the slumber dull the city lights and your eyelashes began to feel heavy. His other reached for your cheek as he moved closer to you, gently leading your weary head to rest on the muscle of his shoulder as his temple rested against the soft of your hair.

The smell of your own perfume caressing your nostrils was the next thing you remembered. Your back laying against your bed, one of your arms covering your eyes from the bright bedroom light as someone was struggling with the buckle of your heels at your ankle. Suddenly self-aware, you jumped a little. Your figure completely jolted up to the middle of your bed, nearly kicking away the face you finally recognized as Kento's.

"I only wanted to take your shoes off before leaving you to rest. Apologies." he said, holding his hands up.

"No, it's not that... I..." you struggled with your words, already feeling tomorrow's headache of hungover creeping in. "I just didn't know you know my address and everything."

"Shoko was kind enough to tell me the address, and the keys to your apartment were right in your coat." he explained, and you already knew Shoko was either going to bomb you with numerous questions about Kento taking you home or she was going to pretend like nothing happened which would've made you spill everything all by yourself like a river streaming down on the mountainside.

"May I?" Kento asked, glancing at your shoes before you nodded in approval. You watched his hands take it off you with gentle precision, realizing that his struggle with the buckle was merely because he did not want to wake you, although you could see it in his eyes that now you were the more sober one. Your naked foot rested against the warmth of his thigh as he got rid of your other shoe for you, his blond hair completely down against his sweaty forehead as his meaty fingers held your ankle as if it was made of glass. Your heart began to relentlessly pound against your ribcage when your toes felt the width of the head of his shaft, so he keeps it on the left, you thought and warmth began to swell in between your thighs.

"Kento," you breathed.

"Hm?"

"I want you."

It felt like eternity as his gaze lifted up to meet your eyes, his body frozen as you could see him calculate whether this was a good idea or the worst mistake he could ever make. Before he could even voice an answer, his body betrayed him as his pants began to grow tight, and the fabric became wet with his precum against your foot.

He could count seven reasons why he wanted to devour right at that instant, and he counted three why he should have never even been in your room, but all calculations evaporated when you suddenly pulled him by his shirt to collapse his lips against yours. His nape was wet with sweat against your arm as you hugged him, your tongue parting his mouth to deepen your kiss that makes him hum. You heard a curse between his grunts as he rolled up your dress, and your panty-clad wetness grinded against his bulge as your legs trapped him by his waist.

Leaving the kiss, a sigh left you when you felt his breath hot against the soft crook of your neck while you unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his belt for him. His hands traveled from the thickness of your ass, to the curve of your hips to the suppleness of your breasts to the soft features of your face; he explored every nook and crany of you with his fingers, fondled you at the spots that made you breathless with pleasure. He was so good to you, as if you were the greatest treasure he could've ever touched.

"Let me ride you." you nearly moaned as his naked dick flicked against your still clad bud of clit. Releasing him from the prison of your legs, he said thank you with a peck on your lips before his weight fell against your bed next to you. He let you remove his clothes for him, his pale cheeks red under his brown gaze that never left your sight and he returned the smile you gave him when you were both finally naked with you on top of him, your palms against the muscles of his bust.

His cock twitched with excitement when a drop of your arousal landed on his skin. Gods, he didn't even eat you out and you were so wet and eager for him. His hands found your hips when you lifted yourself above him, one of your hands holding the thickness of his dick up against your entrance. Kento's mouth stayed agape as he watched your pussy swallow the entirety of his shaft, your spongy walls teasing him at all the right spots.

When you began to rock your hips, he fell apart; his fingers holding onto you for dear life, sweat dotting his furrowed brows as he let his groans mindlessly leave his open lips. When you kissed him, he welcomed you with fervor; his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair as his other hand grabbed the flesh of your butt to keep you in place as he pounded into you from under.

"Fuck, you're so good, too good." he admitted as the rhythm of his thrusts became hazy. "Such a good girl making me cum so fast." The nickname made you moan against his skin while you felt the tip of his dick harden inside you. His dirty mouth sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, his deep voice sending you over the edge as you let yourself fall down against his entire length, your fingers playing with your clit as the flux of cum filled your insides up.

"Well, happy birthday, I suppose," you said, half laughing as his cock still twitched inside you and the musclebound man laid under you with his sweaty chest moving rapidly with his tired breathing. A chuckle left him when he finally managed to open his eyes, his vision still blurry from the alcohol and the orgasm, but he found the curve of your precious smile more endearing and sweet than any birthday cake.

"It is the happiest of birthdays, indeed."

[rrickgrrimes8]

The Day You Broke His Heart

summary: in which Joel loses another loved one.

warnings: blood, death, angst, violence, hurt/no comfort, sarah mentioned

joel miller x gn!reader // no use of y/n

first joel fic! hope u like it! please send some requests i’m trying to get back into writing!

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

request are open!

You didn’t feel it until you saw Joel’s face.

Panic in his eyes, tears forming, he almost dropped his gun. Joel took a harsh breath in, quickly shooting the raiders that had ambushed the pair of you and ran to you. His hands on you felt foreign, despite it being natural.

Pressure on your stomach began to build, blood gushed out and the moment seemed to pause for you. You’d never forget Joel’s expression. You wouldn’t ever let yourself because it was the day you broke his heart.

Knees weakening, you fell into his arms, a soft cry escaping. “J-Joel,” You whimpered as he pressed down harder, transfixed by the wound, “Joel, please.”

He looked up, suppressed tears falling and an all too familiar heartache in his chest. He’d been here before and he couldn’t do this again – not you, not now. Joel wanted more- no, he needed more time. He needed to marry you, to keep you safe, to have a future growing old together. But that felt like a distancing prospect as the blood stained his hands.

“Joel, my love,” You croaked.

“No, no,” He whispered, shaking his head vigorously, “I-I need you… I can’t-“

“Joel,” You reached up, cupping his cheek, wiping blood on his face as you did, “It’s okay.”

“N-no… no its not,” Joel searched the room for anything that could help.

“Joel, stop, it’s okay,” You shuddered, feeling the wound becoming numb, “I love you. Its okay.”

“B-but,” He sobbed, throat tearing, “You can’t.”

“It’s okay,” You leant up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hardly had time to kiss back as you fell from his grasp, back onto the ground. Eyes growing heavy, you let them close.

“Hey, no,” He called your name, “You stay with me, baby, you stay with me.”

You forced your eyes open, imposing a smile on your face, “I’m with you… I’m always here.”

“Good,” He mumbled, “You keep it that way, baby, don’t you dare close your eyes.”

“I know you’re scared,” You acknowledged, “You don’t need to be – everything will be okay.”

Joel shuddered, hating how your voice sound so fragile, so still, “How can you say that?”

You chuckled halfheartedly, “I know all, Miller… I know you.” He quietened, focusing on the fatal wound. “I know that you’re going to keep going,” He shook his head but you continued, “You’re going to do better – live for me, for Sarah.”

He stilled at the mention of his daughter. The daughter you had helped raise since she was 4, the daughter you watched die. The daughter you mourned together. The daughter who died the same way you would.

“B-but Sarah,” He began before you interrupted, “I’ll look after her… up there or wherever she is.”

“I want you here,” He confessed.

“I want to be here too,” You simpered, “More than anything.”

“So don’t give up on me, baby,” He insisted, “You gotta try, gotta keep going.”

“There’s nowhere left for me to go,” You mournfully put, “B-but you, Joel Miller, you have so much… so much left.”

Forcing his brown eyes shut, he memorized your voice, your scent, your everything. Truthfully, he didn’t believe a word you said but you did and that was all that mattered, right? Regretfully, he removed his hands from your stomach and pulled you onto his lap, into his arms.

You were going to die, he realized. And god did that pack a punch. He knew then that there was no way out of this. No way to save the love of his life. Placing a wet kiss to your forehead, he smiled down at you, “I’m going to miss you.”

“Always here, remember Miller?” You retorted, “I’m going to miss you too.”

“Don’t go,” He tried again, voice cracking.

“I love you,” You whispered, “I’ve loved you ever since I met you.”

“I-I love you too,” He kissed you again, this time prolonging it, savoring it.

“Save the world for me, Miller,” You told him, sinking into his touch.

He didn’t respond or he couldn’t – not that it mattered, your eyes were shut, and your chest wasn’t moving. Joel paused for a moment, recoiling as you stilled in his arms, growing stiff. But then it hit him. And he sobbed. He pulled you close, begging the world for you.

Joel cried into your chest, longing for your heart to beat again. But it never would.

He didn’t know how long he had stayed like that but eventually he left, carrying you with him. He buried you outside the house you were staying in – the house you died in.

As he covered you with earth, he realized that he had nothing left. And he wanted to give up but he knew you were there. He could see you clearly. Your arm was around Sarah, a comforting smile on your face, and your eyes spoke a million words he couldn’t hear.

‘Save the world for me.”