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hier--soir · 1 year

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a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something?

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.”

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you.

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome.

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.

thank you for reading!! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #ALP

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alltheirdamn · 3 months

Text

Lilies | dom!joel x sub!f!reader

Song Inspo: Lilies by Ethel Cain

Summary: Joel gives you everything, but you’re beginning to crave more. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k (sorry lol) Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, a teeny tiny bit of Stockholm syndrome, lingerie!kink, reader has long enough hair to braid, brat taming, jealousy, angst, names (little flower, sir, whore, slut), degrading!kink, anal play, anal sex, orgasm denial, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, ball-sucking/worship, rough sex, creampie, slapping, spanking, aftercare, joel is kinda a meany but also kinda sweet A/N: this just kind of tumbled out of me and yeah… here we are lol very far out of my element with this dynamic, so hopefully i did it justice. (i am very horny for dom!joel right now, please don’t perceive me)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The rules were simple:

You were to be at Joel’s home at exactly four pm every Friday and stay with him until Sunday evening

Your hair must be in a braid at all times

You could only wear lingerie (selected and purchased by Joel)

That was your routine.

You had been Joel’s submissive for half a year, and nothing had changed. You submitted to everything he asked without question. Yes, there were safe words in place and long conversations about wants and needs, but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was Joel’s unwavering attention every weekend.

As time passed, though, you started wanting more. Three days weren’t enough for you. The rules weren’t enough. You wanted all of Joel. Not just his commands. Not just his cock. You wanted him to be yours in every way.

Nothing within Joel’s rules explicitly stated you could only see one another. As far as you were concerned, he only tended to one submissive at a time, and you had been with him the longest. Pride swelled inside you when you thought of that; Joel kept you because he wanted you. He enjoyed the pleasure you brought him, and in return, he cared for you deeply. But you wanted to see how deeply he cared about you and if he was as committed to you as you were to him.

That's when you devised a meticulously thought-out plan to prove Joel’s possessiveness. The desperate need to make him realize there would be no one else to make him happy.

You clicked the door open at precisely four pm and entered Joel's home. He kept it spotless, an immaculate representation of his attention to detail. Nothing went unnoticed, and everything had its place and purpose. Within his home, you had your purpose as well.

Tip-toeing through his kitchen, you brushed your hand over the marble counter, the stone cold to touch as you walked into the living room. Floor-to-ceiling bay windows compromised the room's side wall, looking out onto the brick terrace. Joel’s view of the city was the best money could buy, and you spent most Saturday mornings curled up on the patio sofa, watching the sun rise over the skyline.

The plush, gray couch in the center of the living room faced a large flat screen, one rarely used when you stayed on the weekends. Joel insisted on being present with you, whether it was fucking you into oblivion inside his bedroom or dotting over you with aftercare and affection. The lines blurred between strict rules and faltering emotions. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the feelings expressed through actions were enough to make your heart grow fonder.

Joel was to arrive home in less than thirty minutes, giving you enough time to piece yourself together in the new lingerie he had purchased. Wandering into the bedroom, you looked over the sight of his king-sized bed, covered in a white down comforter and scattered with an array of luxury pillows. The sheets beneath the comforter were silky soft and cool to the touch, but the press of Joel’s body against yours during the night kept you wrapped in a blanket of warmth.

The master bath was beyond beautiful, with its white trimmed crowning and alabaster bathtub under the window. Two sinks were carved into a marble counter: one for Joel and one for you. Countless times before, Joel bent you over the counter, forcing you to watch him through the bathroom mirror as he ruined you from behind. You came to learn that was one of Joel’s favorite activities: making you watch him while he fucked you. You loved it, too.

You loved everything he did.

Setting your overnight bag on the counter, you laid out your lingerie piece by piece. The white lace bustier was practically see-through, with a detailed pattern that left little to the imagination. The only part of the top that wasn’t fully transparent was the fishbone wiring that traced the underside of the bust. The matching underwear was no better; your neatly trimmed sex would be fully seen under the lace that comprised the tiny bodice. In Joel’s words, he wanted you to look “angelic and ethereal.” Once again, the thrumming in your heart increased knowing he saw you as such. He worshiped you head to toe, and you were so eager to give him anything he wanted. Slipping the garment over your body, you worked on your hair, plaiting the strands into a perfect braid you had mastered over the last several months. You secured it with a silk bow—just as Joel had requested—and settled it between your shoulder blades. Admiring yourself, you smiled into the mirror. Joel would be pleased with you.

But first, you needed to do something.

Reaching into your purse for your cell phone, you adjusted the camera to capture your lace-clad body in a teasing portrait. The photo wasn’t for Joel. Scrolling through your phone, you found the contact of your latest man of interest—well, not a genuine interest, so perhaps, the latest victim? You were only using him as part of your plan, and you hoped it worked in your favor.

As your finger hovered over the send button, you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door lock sliding open. A thrill of anxiety rushed through your body; you would do this. Pressing send, you ran to the bedroom and placed your phone on the nightstand. The ringer was on, which Joel did not favor during your time with him.

His large frame shadowed the bedroom door as he stepped into the room. In all his glory, Joel Miller was yours for the next seventy-two hours. But if you had it your way, he’d be yours forever. Clad in his usual work attire, his broad shoulders and chest stretched out his business suit, the white button-down peeking out beneath the jacket. His thick thighs were covered in well-tailored trousers, and his shoes were pristine and polished as he liked. Gazing up, you drank in the neatly trimmed scruff along his jaw, the silver patches thickening as they neared his ears. The mustache over his upper lip was just as clean, the edges dipping close to the curve of his mouth—which was currently tipped up into a satisfied grin.

“Hello, little flower,” he greeted.

Little flower.

That had always been his preferred name for you. “You’re so delicate, like a little flower. I could marvel at your beauty but crush you in my hand in seconds.”

Such a sentiment shouldn’t ignite something so visceral inside you, but it sounded so sweet when it fell off his tongue in honey-drench syllables.

“Hello, sir,” you smiled, your body situated on the edge of the bed.

You watched as he shed his suit jacket, folding it carefully and draping it over the dresser. His eyes stayed trained on you, the rich brown of his irises boring into you with a softness so tender it toppled something inside your stomach. Working at the cuffs of his shirt, Joel rolled them in perfect sections until they hugged the thick muscles of his forearms just below his elbows.

“You look radiant in the new set,” he said, his eyes dragging over your body.

You preened at his compliment, a blush crawling over your chest and neck.

“Thank you, sir. I love anything you pick out for me.”

Joel cracked a wide grin, pleased with your response. He curled his pointer finger at you, beckoning you closer. You obeyed his command wordlessly, stepping into his warmth. Rough, calloused fingers trailed over your bare skin, trailing higher up your arm until his hand came to cup your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed a thumb over your cheekbone, the touch you craved when you weren’t in his presence. You craved tenderness at all hours of the day; you lay awake sometimes at night yearning for more. Always more.

You craned your neck to kiss his lips softly, gently. If you could choose how you’d die, it would always be in this moment, where the world dissolved around you, and it was just Joel’s body against yours.

The moment shattered away as your phone shrilled from the nightstand, the vibration rattling the wood. Joel broke from your lips, his eyes set ablaze and swimming in darkness. Disappointment washed over his features, the crease between his brow forming and his lips set in a thin line. Without a single word, he strode to the nightstand and stared at your phone screen, no doubt flooded with texts from the man you had sent the photos.

Your heart thudded in your ears, the sound pressurizing inside your head. On bated breath, you waited for him to say something.

“Kneel,” he ordered, his voice cold. He didn’t even glance at you as he said the word.

You did without hesitation, your knees dropping to the carpet floor without a sound. The tension in the room was palatable as Joel walked into your line of vision. He held the phone in front of your face, his fingers tight around the edges.

“Read.”

Your eyes scanned the words on the screen, a slew of text messages… each more vulgar than the last. You didn’t want to say them aloud.

“Read,” he repeated.

“I—I don’t want to, sir,” you whispered.

Joel’s body was foreboding, a shadow swallowing you whole as you sat perched on your knees before him. He could do anything he wanted to you, and the truth was that you’d let him. You’d let him do anything because you wanted it. You wanted him so desperately.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to read it,” he said. “I am telling you to read it.”

You swallowed thickly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you began to read off the text thread.

Damn, I need to know what your pussy looks like.

Let’s meet up tomorrow.

Send another picture. I want to see your legs spread wider.

Bet you would let me cum inside you.

Line after line, word after word, you were embarrassed. Embarrassed and afraid, neither settled well inside your stomach as it churched together.

Tossing the phone to the ground, Joel crouched to meet you at eye level. It was the first time you felt terrified by the way he looked at you. Several times, he had been rough—almost always, as it was what he enjoyed—but there was always a glimmer of softness even when he hurt you.

“You did this for a reason.” Joel didn’t ask; he said it like a calculated realization.

You bowed your head, too ashamed to meet his eye. Oh, but he didn’t like that. Gripping your chin with merciless strength, Joel lifted your face to meet his. A breath apart, but so far away.

“Explain yourself, little flower. I’m growing rather impatient.”

“I wanted to see you jealous, sir,” you admonished. “I wanted to know what you would do.”

“Jealous,” he echoed, rolling his tongue over his teeth.

He ripped his hand from your face, letting your head fall between your shoulders. You started at the polished tips of his work shoes, the black leather shiny and without marks. No detail went unnoticed.

“Undo my belt,” he instructed, stretching himself back to his full height.

Straightening your spine, you reached up to his belt and began to unclasp the metal, holding it tight around his trousers. Joel continued to stare down at you unamused. You worked at pushing his pants down his thick thighs, shoving them far enough to reach his kneecaps.

“Take out my cock. Let’s see how well I’ve trained your throat.”

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, giving them a good tug until his thick cock sprung free. It bobbed against his stomach, the reddened tip weeping with precum. Your hand came up to grip the girthy base, but Joel tutted in protest.

“Hands behind your back, little flower.”

Clasping your hands at the base of your spine, you peered up at him with an eager expression. Joel arched a brow, waiting for you to comply and give him his request. Shuffling your knees forward, you dragged the tip of your tongue over the slit, lapping at the salty precum that dripped down. You peppered him with kitten kisses, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock. Joel rewarded you with a satisfied hum, bucking his hips forward until the head of his cock parted your lips wider.

Dropping your jaw open, you welcomed each girthy inch of his cock into your warm mouth, the faint smell of his body wash mingling with his musky scent as you took him deeper. The moment the head of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you sputtered softly and felt the tears begin to well in your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

Joel ripped himself from your mouth, his hand coming down to squish your cheeks together.

“Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, sir,” you said sheepishly.

He released his grip on your face and adjusted himself back at your wet lips. Sucking in a deep breath, you wrapped your mouth around his cock once more. Joel jerked his hips forward, sending his cock to the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, keeping your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. Your nose brushed against the trimmed curls that framed his pubic bones, the hairs tickling your nose as he held you there.

“I’m going to count to ten, little flower. Be a good girl, and show me how well you can take it.”

You nodded, your mouth suctioning tighter around him. Joel’s eyes darkened, his lips parted as he readied himself to count.

“One,” he barked.

You blinked away the tears springing in the corner of your eyes. You could do this; you had done it before.

“Two.”

You unhinged your jaw, your senses invaded by his scent as you pressed further into his pubic hair. Somewhere between breaths, Joel counted three and four with a loud grunt, and you continued to focus on exhaling through your nose.

“Five,” he gritted.

The urge to gag around his cock grew harder to ignore, and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Your chin was coated in drool as you anticipated the next count, your eyes foggy as you stared up at him. Joel tilted his head, admiring how he stuffed every crevice of your mouth.

“Six.”

“Seven.”

More saliva pooled in your mouth, and you hollowed your cheeks to avoid sputtering around him. Joel’s lips curled into a devilish smirk, and he nudged his pelvis closer until your nose smashed into his skin. You coughed around his length, the corners of your mouth dripping saliva onto your neck and chest.

“Almost there, little flower. Doing so good for me,” he crooned.

Joel brushed a finger over your throat, tapping the bulge protruding against your aching flesh. Eight and nine were a blur, your eyes barely staying open. Every flutter of your lashes garnered a dissatisfied tut from Joel, his body tense and throbbing with anger.

“Ten,” he sighed.

You tore away, coughing violently as you sucked in jagged breaths. Twisting your hands behind you, you squeezed your eyes shut to push the remainder of the tears down your cheeks. Joel wrapped a large hand around the base of his cock, stroking himself slowly and lazily.

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.

The words he said were far and few, which terrified you. Deep within yourself, you knew you had enraged him with your little act. It garnered no affection as you hoped, but he still gave you the attention you yearned for. Good or bad, you would take it. You would take anything he gave you.

A trail of saliva, salty and thick, dripped from the point of your tongue as you did what he instructed. Joel rested the velvety skin of his balls against your mouth, the weight of them heavy on your tongue. You didn’t need his commands as you slipped one of his balls into your mouth. Above you, Joel shuddered and clenched his fists at his side. You worshiped each with equal measure, alternating between gentle caresses of your tongue and sloppy suctions of your mouth.

“That’s it, little flower. Just like that,” Joel cooed.

A desperate moan left your lips as you lapped up the salty wetness covering his silken sack, swallowing down the remnants of your drool. Joel pumped himself faster, the sound of his jagged breathing mixing with the lewd noises of your mouth. His release was nearing; you could sense it in the way his thick thighs flexed around your face.

“Please,” you whined, your words muffled into the hair around his balls.

Joel’s hand slowed around his length, his thumb brushing over the slit as more precum leaked out. Staring up at him helplessly, you waited for his release to paint your tongue. He gave you a stern look, nodding toward the bed.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

“But—,” you protested.

Joel smoothed his palm over your cheek before pulling back and delivering a sharp smack against your face. You jerked at the sting of his touch radiating through the layers of your skin. He undoubtedly left behind a reddened mark across your cheek and jaw.

“You’ve already angered me once,” he warned. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Your knees scuffed against the ground as you scrambled onto the bed, situating yourself in the position he commanded. The unmistakable sound of the leather unsheathing from his pants ignited a new wave of fear through your body. Joel discarded it beside your face before coasting a hand down the center of your spine.

“I’ll give you another chance to explain yourself,” Joel said.

The bed dipped under his weight as he pressed a knee into the comforter beside you. You glanced over your shoulder, watching through teary eyes as Joel quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Dark chest hair scattered over his broad chest, spattered lower until it tapered into a thick trail down his pelvis. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over his golden skin as he discarded his shirt carelessly onto the ground. Careless…it wasn’t something you were used to with Joel.

“I just wanted your attention,” you muttered, your head hanging between your shoulders.

Joel tugged your braid, forcing your neck to crane backward. Despite the harshness of his words, his touch, his demeanor… your body throbbed with an unavoidable need. It throbbed at the apex of your sex, the lace rubbing against the slick that pooled between your thighs. Joel paid no attention to the way your legs shifted side to side, his unwavering stare penetrating you.

“Do I not give you enough attention?” He questioned.

“You do, sir,” you nodded, the strain on your neck growing uncomfortable.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve attention at all,” he mused.

He released his grip on your hair, your head falling forward and hanging low between your shoulders. Joel moved behind your body, his thick fingers tearing apart the lace hugging your ass. You yelped at the sheer force of it, the chill of the room skating up your bare sex. Joel’s fingertips traced over the back of your thigh, lingering close to the outline of your weeping pussy. Just one touch. That’s all you wanted—just one.

His touch disappeared, leaving you whining and frustrated. Joel huffed a laugh before bringing two fingers to your mouth.

“Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

You obliged, rolling your tongue over the thick digits as they pressed down into your mouth. He pulled them away, a web of drool connecting from the tip of your tongue to the pads of his fingers. Joel knocked your legs open further, and you waited in anticipation for his fingers to give you what you needed. Except, he didn’t.

A gasp left your lips as he pushed the calloused skin of his fingertips against the tight ring of muscles above your slit. With one hand gripping your ass, Joel spread you wider, humming at the sight of you fully exposed.

“Maybe you don’t deserve the attention you want. You’ll take what I give you, and you’ll thank me.”

“Please,” you whined.

“No,” he growled. “Desperate little sluts don’t get what they want.”

Joel’s finger dipped into your clenching hole, prodding you open despite your whines of protest. It wasn’t the first time he used this way, but it felt different. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t meant to be focused on your pleasure. He was determined to prove a point, and you would comply because you were so greedy for anything he could give. He pressed the second finger to your hole, stretching you wider as he pushed them to his second knuckle. Wider and wider, he stretched you, uncomfortable but not unwelcomed.

“I see how wet you are, little flower. I know how greedy this pussy can get, but you know what? You don’t deserve it. This pussy doesn’t deserve my attention at all.”

“Sir!” You cried.

“You’re going to take my cock in your ass like the pathetic whore you are,” he growled.

Joel curled his fingers inside you, slipping them deeper until they were fully seated inside you. If you felt full now, it would be nothing compared to the way his cock would split you open. The sheer thought of it sent a shockwave to your clit, the aching bud pulsating painfully. Joel laughed at the way you squirmed underneath him, rewarding your cries with a jarring smack against your ass. Fuck, it hurt.

Tearing his fingers from you, Joel disappeared from the bed and riffled through his nightstand drawer. You heard the familiar sound of the lube squirting into his hand and the rough breath of Joel as he realigned himself with your loosened hole. The initial intrusion of his cock sparred stars into your vision, the tip of his cock tearing you open. Even in his angered haze, Joel was slow—careful.

“Breathe, little flower,” he urged.

You barely managed a full gulp of air before Joel bottomed out entirely. A scream erupted from your lips as you adjusted to his size, each inch of his length stuffed inside your tightening hole. Your body flexed and tensed under Joel’s touch, one hand pressing into your lower back, the other looping a finger through the plaits in your hair. Beneath him, you were helpless, entirely at his mercy for whatever he wanted.

With a slow retraction of his hips, Joel snapped his hips forward hard enough to send your upper body into the comforter. The rugged momentum of his thrusts tore you apart; piece by piece, Joel diminished you into nothing but a hole for his use.

“Greedy fucking whore,” Joel grunted, each thrust weighted and heavy inside you. “How’s it feel, huh? You love being used like this?”

“I love it, sir,” you cried.

Joel pulled out to the tip, a heavy breath expelling from your mouth. He ripped into you again, resolving you into a heap of tears and shallow whimpers. His finger in your intertwined hair tightened, pulling your neck back until you had no choice but to connect with his piercing stare. With blown pupils and curled lips, Joel was the epitome of carnal rage. You did this. You spurred him into this embodiment of anger.

“Is this enough for you, little flower?” He demanded.

Arousal dripped between your legs, the snap of his balls against your clit radiating pleasure through your body. You writhed under his hold, a pleading cry leaving your mouth as you stared at him helplessly. Usually reserved and stoic, Joel’s emotions washed over his features, speaking louder than his words. You didn’t just anger him; you hurt him. You questioned his role as a dominant, which was an unspeakable thing to do.

“Answer me!” He raged.

“It’s enough!” You sobbed.

Joel fucked you into abandon, your asshole sore and pained with every cantation of his hips. He was tearing you apart from the inside out, unrelenting and punishing. Your safe word balanced on the tip of your tongue, yet you withheld. You knew Joel would stop the moment you said the word, but you didn’t want him to. You wanted to prove you could be everything and more. You wanted to prove yourself until he wanted no other but you.

The pulse between your legs was unbearable. You were stretched out and gaping around his cock, void of any chance of release. Joel knew how your body responded; he was aware of how your hole contracted and flexed around him. Yet, he gave you nothing. He wouldn’t.

“Taking my cock so well, little flower,” he muttered between labored breaths. “Swallowing every inch of me.”

“Please, sir. Please, I want to cum,” you babbled.

The sting of his palm against your ass was his response to your pleas, a simple gesture to shut you up. You took it, though your body buzzed with pleasure in every limb.

“I know you do,” he crooned softly. “But you don’t get what you want. Only what I give you. So fucking take it.”

The world was caving around you, your vision blackening at the edges. Joel wound your braid over his fist and quickened his thrusts. Your body sagged into the bed, limp and pliant. Guttural sounds fell off Joel’s lips as he fucked you into the bed. Your ears deafened to the noise, your mouth hanging open and dripping spit into the soft bedspread beneath you. The erratic drive of his cock was the only warning you had to know he was close. Jagged, deep thrusts speared into you as Joel toppled over the edge with an animalist growl as he pumped his release into your fucked out hole. You twitched under his body, your knees slipping lower as your body gave out.

Despite the haze inside your mind, your lips tipped up into a satisfied grin. He used your body just as he wanted, and you proved fealty to him—ardent, unwavering submission to the one man who wove his way into your heart.

Joel pulled himself from you, slow and gentle, until the roll of his release was falling between your slit. You clenched around nothing, the tight ring of muscles aching painfully. He reached up to undo the silk bow holding your braid together, his fingers working through the soft waves as they floated over your back.

“Little flower,” he whispered, kissing your sweat-coated spine.

You flinched at his touch, not out of fear but of shock that still radiated through your muscles. You hadn’t fully returned to your mind, and Joel took notice. Working you onto your back, he roamed a hand over your breasts; his hand pressed firmly against the thrumming pulse of your heart. You stared up at him blankly, the tears now dried against your cheeks. What had been the face of cruelty only moments ago had now morphed into the soft, longing gaze you always yearned for. Joel’s pupils had returned to normal, the flecks of amber and rich chocolate boring into you with a look of concern.

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered.

He bent over you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered close, relishing in the softness of his lips on your skin. You wanted this. You ached for it fiercely but could not form the words to beg for it.

“Stay here a moment,” he said.

You lay against the bed, your limbs twitching as you rolled onto your side. Curling into yourself, you fought off the tremors still wracking through your muscles, a steady pulse rhythmically beating within your clit. Joel denied you your orgasm, which he never did. It was your punishment for wanting too much—a miscalculated attempt at proving your worth.

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, followed by Joel’s heavy footsteps nearing the bed. With a quick unclasping of your bustier and a firm hand under your knees, Joel lifted you from the bed. You became weightless in his arms, cradling you to his sweaty chest. Wrapping a shaky arm around his shoulders, you rested your head inside the crook of his neck and exhaled an exhausted sigh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly.

The pungent aroma of lavender and vanilla tinged your nose as Joel guided you into the bathtub. Immediately, your muscles unwound in their tension, a relieving groan expelling from your lips. The heat of the water soothed your tender flesh, the bubbles running over your bare skin in small clusters. Joel was dedicated to aftercare, especially after rougher sessions with you. This was no different. He always remained beside the bathtub, soothing you with praise as you tipped further into its warmth.

You blinked up at him, giving him a tired smile. He gave you a silent nod, then motioned for you to slide forward. He never bathed with you. It wasn’t a rule, per se, but he never granted it to you. This was different—foreign.

You slid your body as far as it could go, your knees pressed to your chest as Joel dipped into the water behind you. Hooking a strong arm around your abdomen, he pulled you flush with his body and dropped his mouth below the shell of your ear.

“You chose to anger me today,” he muttered. “I need the honest truth as to why you did it.”

You twisted your face around to meet his steady gaze, your bottom lip quivering while you debated if the truth was worth voicing.

“I wanted you to be possessive,” you admitted. “I wanted to know if you cared for me the way I care for you.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised slightly, the words shocking him.

“Of course, I care for you. Do I not show it well enough?”

“No—no, you do, sir. I just…I want to be the only one you care for.”

“You have been, little flower. There’s been no one else the entire time you’ve been with me,” he insisted.

You turned your body around, your knees bruising against the tile as you cupped his face. Never had you been so vulnerable with Joel, but you needed him to see your desperation. You needed him to see how committed you were to your role in his life.

“I want to be the only one,” you repeated. “I don’t want you to have another.”

Joel’s hands rested at the curve between your waist and hips, prodding your flesh soothingly.

“Is that what you want, little flower?” He questioned.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, sir. What matters is if it’s what you want.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, creases forming near his temple as he shut his eyes. Silence fell between you, so loud it fractured your heart. No answer was an answer. You failed in your attempts to prove yourself. You failed to make him want you more. He didn’t want you, no matter—.

“My sweet, little flower,” he sighed.

Fresh tears slipped down your cheek, and you made no effort to swat them away. It was useless when you knew you lost the one thing you wanted the most. Joel brushed his lips against yours, and you let a muffled cry escape.

“Rules can be rectified,” he started. “If this is something you wish, I’ll happily oblige.”

“Really?” You asked, pulling away.

You studied him for any sign of doubt, any stolen glance that may prove his words a lie. But he looked at you with complete devotion, irrevocable certainty.

“I want you just as badly. All you had to do was ask. There was no need for defiance or jealousy.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I think you’ve proven yourself more than enough today, little flower. Turn around so I can care for you properly.”

You slipped back into his warm embrace, your legs widening and pressed against his. Joel smoothed a hand down your stomach, his fingers tracing the swollen lips of your sex. You bucked into his hand, chasing the orgasm that still swam within your stomach. He drew slow, tantalizing circles over your soddened clit, muttering soft words into your ear.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yes—yes,” you panted, arching into his touch.

The pad of his finger pressed into the throbbing bud, the surging pleasure inside you growing agonizing. Bathwater sloshed around your body is rivulets, the push and pull of the waves crashing into the space where your skin didn’t touch. Closer and closer, he drove you to the edge until a delicious rapture tore through your body. Every muscle beneath your balmy skin seized upwards, a wail of relief echoing around the empty bathroom as you caved into your climax.

“That’s it, little flower. So beautiful when you come undone for me,” Joel mumbled into your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe.

Shockwaves trembled over you as you slumped against his solid frame, your head falling back onto his shoulder. You had what you wanted. Body and soul, Joel granted your wish. Ecstasy wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the swelling inside your chest.

“Stay with me. More than just the weekends. I’ll have your things brought here, and you can stay permanently,” Joel offered. “This house is rather lonely without you in it, anyway.”

“Okay,” you submitted, a grin stretching across your face.

He was yours.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #dom!joel miller #sub!f!reader #dom/sub #joel miller x you #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut

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footiecent · 1 month

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good luck charm (explicit)

(nika mühl x reader)

Where you and your girlfriend’s love language is good luck head

Warnings: smut. yeah. editing was also kinda rushed so. welp.

A/N: if you saw me disappear off the face of the earth for months, no you didn’t. will be back to football soon (hopefully)!

word count: 3.1k ish

“Nika, fuck,” you pant.

“Shhh…”

“I have to go, you know I have a test at nine-thirty,” you insist, but your wonderful, strong, and horny girlfriend seems much too occupied with pinning you down in bed and pressing her lips against your neck.

Nika Mühl is something of a headache.

The athlete is a wonderful lover.

She also loves to get on your every last nerve.

She’s an infuriating mix of snappy and adorable—cocky yet doting. She adores you with every inch of every bone in her body, and she’s also fully aware of just how irresistible she is to you.

So while Nika spoils and praises you constantly, she’s also picked up the habit of inconveniencing you horribly just to make up for her actions with perfectly weighted kisses and strong arms that cuddle the forgiveness out of you.

Case in point: Multivariable Calculus at the University of Washington is no joke, and Nika knows precisely how many hours you neglected her in order to study for this test. Yet, someone is holding you down and keeping you from getting to class right now.

Your girlfriend knows damned well that you can’t resist the familiar, yet captivating, feeling of her open-mouthed kisses. Like clockwork, as she starts to press her lips harder against your skin, your head tips back and your hands start to grip the sheets.

The athlete is just so wonderfully solid on top of you, and the perfectly stinging kisses on your neck have you writhing in pleasure underneath her.

“That’s a whole thirty minutes away, baby,” she mumbles, letting her right hand fall from its position pinning you down to grasp at your waist. “It’s only a ten minute walk to your class.”

You let yourself indulge further, getting lost in her touch and the smell of her shampoo—encapsulating you in your own Nika-induced heaven.

But when that hand begins to pull at the waistband of your shorts, you use the last bit of strength left in you to push her shoulder.

“Nika—baby,” you mumble as you hold onto her shirt. She relents, albeit with her jaw clenched at the interruption. “I can’t miss this. You know that,” you insist, eyes pleading for her to take mercy on you and let you get to class.

To your surprise, your girlfriend scoffs lightly. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as she sits up and rests her weight straddling your hips.

“Baby, I’m offended that you think I can’t finish you off well before class starts,” she taunts.

You roll your eyes at that comment.

“Bitch,” you mumble as you try to sit up, only for a hand at your chest to push you back down onto the bed. You watch as she grabs your phone from the nightstand and fiddles with some buttons, her famous smirk eventually appearing as she turns the screen to you:

4:58 remaining.

The moment you realize what your girlfriend just did, you feel one hand return to the waistband of your shorts and see the other toss your phone somewhere on the bed. You meet your girlfriend’s eyes—hers intensely searching yours for your consent.

God damn competitive athletes.

“Fuck. Okay. Fine. Hurry up,” you breathe out as you slide your shorts and underwear down and feel Nika’s weight shift to the edge of the bed.

Your girlfriend wastes no time, mouth eagerly diving straight to your core. Your eyes almost immediately roll back as you feel her tongue press against your clit and her hands come to grip your thighs.

Nika-induced heaven.

She knows you well—knows exactly how hard and exactly where to lap at to drive you insane. Her tongue switches between teasing your entrance and running over your clit, causing your eyes to roll back, your thighs to tense around her head, and expletives to escape your mouth. And when Nika’s right hand leaves your thigh and a finger slowly probes into you, the familiar stretch causes a high-pitched moan to bounce off the walls of your bedroom.

God bless basketball hands.

She rapidly builds a rhythm, letting a second finger stretch you out further and repeatedly target at the spot inside you that drives you insane. Your girlfriend’s mouth has never relented, her tongue now fervently grinding against your clit, and you’re unable to control the noises leaving your mouth.

You can hear the sounds of her fingers in your slickness cut through the silence of your apartment bedroom, and it triggers something in your brain.

The tightening feeling in your body arrives embarrassingly quick, but, of course, how could you ever forget how immensely talented Nika Mühl is in all regards.

“Nika, fuck,” you whimper as your thighs tighten and your hands tangle in her hair.

The sounds of your pleasure always do wonders for Nika’s ego, and the whine you let out as the tension in your body snaps has the athlete smirking and her obsession with you growing tenfold.

The fingers inside you slow to an eventual stop while your thighs finally relax. Her mouth is still on you as she slowly pulls out, now gently cleaning up your arousal—hyper aware of your sensitivity.

You let yourself enjoy the feeling of her aftercare, still deep in the euphoria of your orgasm, when the blaring of an alarm quickly startles you into opening your eyes.

“Told ya.”

You decidedly ignore the cocky smile you know your girlfriend is donning, instead choosing to push her head away from your body and pull your clothes back on as she amusedly—and borderline vulgarly—cleans her fingers off in front of you.

“Fuck off.”

As you finish fixing yourself up, Nika stands up and grabs your backpack and phone before you can, walking with you to the door in comfortable silence. After you slip on both your shoes, you reach out to grab your belongings only for the athlete to pull you in close first.

“You got this baby. I know how hard you studied, be confident,” she reassures before pressing a few soft kisses on your lips—a wild contrast to how aggressive her mouth was on you beforehand. “Now get out,” she chuckles, almost pushing you out the door while you scramble to put on your backpack.

And, as she expected, an hour and a half later Nika’s phone pings.

“Aced it.”

“You’re welcome 😁”

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

“Baby.”

You didn’t mean for this to happen. Really.

You woke up still slightly annoyed from a petty argument started the night before, which Nika had yet to apologize for.

And now, suddenly, she's knelt down in front of you while you're perched on the countertop, running your hands over the solid muscle of her shoulders and moaning as she languidly mouths at your core.

Nika’s simply irresistible—she knows exactly how to charm her way back into your good graces (and your pants).

Truly, the morning started off relatively normal.

You woke to the feeling of a heavy arm on your stomach, a torso halfway on top of your own, and a head tucked adorably into the crook of your neck. Soft breaths hit your skin, and you can’t help but run your fingers through your girlfriend’s soft, jet black hair while she’s relaxed—and not getting irrationally jealous over some five-foot seven teenager who hit on you at the bar the night before.

You think back to the moment and roll your eyes slightly. You know your girlfriend loves you deeply, but every so often, she’ll overreact—swearing one too many times or conjuring up some extreme scenario where you suddenly leave her for a tiny-dick loser—in a way that pisses you off rather than makes you swoon over her commitment.

You’d gone to sleep without Nika and woke up to her on top of you, meaning she was probably hoping you’d be less ticked off after a good night’s cuddle. And while you’d normally let her win your forgiveness with some morning kisses, you decide to get up earlier today and go for a run—you need to give a presentation at your internship in a few hours, and getting all the tension out from the previous night would probably be for the best.

You get ready quietly while Nika dozes peacefully, pulling on some shorts and a sports bra before brushing your teeth and tying your hair. You press a kiss to your girlfriend’s forehead before leaving, thinking she’ll be gone for practice by the time you get back.

When you return to your apartment, however, the first thing you see is Nika sitting at the counter, phone in hand. She’s dressed in sweats with her training bag on the floor next to her, and when she sets her phone down on the counter, you see she was working on a long text—most definitely an apology to you.

“Hey, what’re you still doing here?” you ask as you close the door and walk to the opposite side of the counter to face your girlfriend. She wears a small grimace as she watches you move.

“I—fuck. I thought you had left because you were still mad,” she explains, and you can see—practically feel—her regret for how she acted the night before. “I’m sorry. It was stupid getting jealous over that motherfucker.”

Her apology and regret has your anger dissipating almost instantly—really, it was just a small little squabble and her sincerity, in addition to the morning run, has your head cleared.

“You’re fine, baby,” you say, making your way over to her side of the counter. The athlete stares at you, clearly still apprehensive of her forgiveness, and you roll your eyes before guiding her face down to press a kiss onto her lips.

“I promise,” you reassure with a small smile. She’s looking at you like you’re the sole source light of the world and God she’s so fucking adorable.

You can’t help it. You want her.

“You know what you could do to make it even better, though?” you softly ask as you run your thumb along the blush on her cheekbone.

“Hm?”

“I have a presentation today. Could use some luck.”

And almost immediately, you see her lips turn up into a smirk and her demeanor change completely. God she’s hot.

Then her lips are attacking yours and you can’t help but lose yourself to the feeling of her tongue pushing against yours. You barely even feel her tugging at your shorts and underwear until they’re pooled at your feet and Nika’s nails are digging into your ass.

When you finally break apart to catch your breath, you’re unexpectedly lifted onto the countertop and that show of strength?

Yeah, you’re a goner.

Wetness pools between your legs and your girl wastes no time—a finger is sunk into you at the same time Nika sucks a mark into the column of your neck and you can do nothing but dig your nails into a strong back and hold on as pleasure thrums through your body.

“God, Nika, you’re so good.”

You feel a sharp inhale against your neck.

And then you see the athlete fall to her knees and insert a second finger into you at the same time her tongue flattens against your clit.

You feel how your arousal coats Nika’s hand, and she momentarily removes her fingers from you to fully lap at your cunt.

“I could do this forever, baby.”

You dig your nails into her shoulders, and the way you clench around her tongue when you feel it breach your entrance has her moaning in approval.

She’s going to be insufferable after this.

She moves her mouth to suck at your clit before inserting her fingers back into you, now pistoning in and out with fervor, hitting all the right places.

It’s hot, heady, and perfectly passionate. You’re whining and your head tilts back as the tension in your body builds and builds until a final moan accompanies the snap.

As you finish, core muscles tense and thighs shaking, Nika stands up while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and licking her fingers clean. She’s still looking at you with that soft, submissive and adoring look, and you can’t help but lean down and kiss her.

Your girlfriend is perfect.

And there’s no way you won’t crush that presentation later.

You chase Nika’s lips when she pulls away, but she looks at her phone and lets out a small groan. She tucks it away and immediately buries her head in your chest, while you wrap your arms around her neck, amused.

“Really gotta go to practice,” she muffles into your shoulder as you press a few soft kisses on the top of her head. You let her indulge in the warmth of your embrace for a few moments longer before gently untangling your arms.

“You’re gonna kill it, I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say as you tuck your girlfriend’s hair behind her ears.

You kiss her once more before leaning in close to her ear.

“I’ll be waiting to repay the favor,” you whisper, before shoving her away playfully with a smile. You see her jaw clench, but she grabs her bag from the floor and drags herself to the door, an “I love you!” and “Good luck at the meeting!” being her final words before she makes her exit.

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

You love gameday.

Getting to see your girlfriend play basketball in an electric arena of screaming fans never gets old.

The way the lights shine down on Nika’s body—whether she’s sitting on the bench with her teammates or running up and down the court—has your eyes glued on her at every moment. The buzz of the crowd always keeps you lost in the moment—no other thoughts ever occupy your brain but those of basketball tactics and your pretty girl.

However, your absolute favorite part has to be Nika’s pregame tradition exclusive to you only.

Your girlfriend has a tendency to style some immaculate outfits. She looks exquisite in every single one, and today is no different.

In fact, today’s is particularly… salivating.

Nika’s arms and abs are on full display as she pairs a bralette with a cropped, unbuttoned black shirt and pants. You watch from the edge of your bed as your girlfriend takes pregame outfit pictures in the full-length mirror a few feet away, changing poses every few minutes.

When she’s finally satisfied with her pictures and tucks her phone into her pocket, she turns to you with a smirk.

“Thoughts?”

She knows you’ve been staring at her—and her abs—through the mirror for the last ten minutes, and she can practically see the R-rated thought bubbles forming above your head.

Instead of answering, you stand up and walk over to her—only to grab at the hem of her shirt and pull her back with you until you both are standing in front of the bed. She looks down at you amusedly as you busy yourself with gently running your fingers down along her torso, eventually resting them at the waistband of her pants.

“Fucking delicious,” you finally respond, donning a smirk of your own as you push her to sit down at the edge of the bed, facing the mirror.

You kneel down in front of Nika, looking up through your eyelashes in a way that would drive any sane person feral.

“Christ, baby,” she breathes out as she looks down at you, then looks at the mirror and sees you unbuckling her pants, ready to sin.

Your girlfriend grips the edge of the mattress.

You giggle as Nika opts to close her eyes when you begin to kiss down her abs, feeling how the muscles tense up and become even more defined. She lifts her hips as you pull down at her pants and underwear, throwing them up onto the bed so that they don’t get wrinkled.

Immediately after, you busy yourself with leaving stinging kisses at the top of her inner thighs and enjoying the feeling of one of Nika’s hands running through your hair. The warmth of her legs envelops you into perhaps the most comforting, and most breathtaking, paradise on Earth.

You’re too preoccupied to notice when that hand stops—and to notice Nika grab her phone from the pants pocket and lean back, body resting on one elbow now.

You do, however, notice the sudden sound of a camera shutter.

The noise has you stopping dead in your tracks, confused. You look up to see Nika holding up her phone, taking a picture in the mirror with a smug expression.

Fuck, that’s hot.

But two can play at that game.

You let your tongue press against your girlfriend’s clit, and you’re entranced by the sight of pure pleasure washing over her face. She lets out a breathy moan as her head tilts back slightly and you can’t wait to see that picture.

“Keep going,” she breathes out, thighs tightening around your head.

All the voices in your mind telling you to tease her further dissipate—the knowledge of her desperation has your self control disappearing and your need to feel her clench around you growing.

You move on to pushing your tongue in and out of her, gradually increasing pace until you hear more moans than camera shutters.

You bring your fingers to rub over her clit as you maintain your movements with your tongue, causing her thighs to squeeze around your head—and you think that if your last moment was spent in between the strong quads of a professional basketball player, you would die the happiest being ever.

There are maybe three or four more clicks of the camera intertwined with whimpers and groans—and you cannot wait to see the different expressions she captures—before Nika’s thighs tense again and you hear the thud of the phone hitting the bed.

“Shit, oh my God.”

And suddenly there’s more arousal, more of Nika to consume. She’s now fully laid down on the bed, catching her breath. Her slick covers your chin but you don’t mind—you can only think about how addicting her taste is as you continue to lap at her cunt.

“Fuck, baby, no more,” you hear as your girlfriend gently guides your head away, still catching her breath. You feel a sense of pride wash over yourself as you see how blissed out her face is, and how you're the only one that gets to see this.

This is your pregame tradition, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

You obey her request, standing up and pulling Nika up with you before handing her her disregarded clothing on the bed.

While she busies herself getting ready again, you snatch up the phone from the bed, unlocking it and opening the Photos app. You flick through the stills she managed to take—some blurry, but all of them fucking incredible. You send every one to yourself before leaning up to kiss Nika hard.

“Pictures turn out nice, babe?” she teases, wearing quite a self-satisfied look as she pulls back from your lips.

“Best pregame photos I have ever seen, my love.”

"Yeah? I'll make sure to look over them before the game starts," she murmurs before pecking your lips one more time.

“Yeah, maybe it'll give you some extra good luck.”

#nika muhl #nika mühl #nika muhl x reader #nika mühl x reader #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb x reader #uconn wbb #wbb imagine #nika muhl imagine #nika mühl imagine #nika muhl smut #nika mühl smut

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ckret2 · 8 months

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please more evil ford please i stare with my puppy eyes for this i am obbsessed

Yeah all right, I've been working on some art. (For context, we're talking about this Evil Ford.)

Evil Ford is Evil as in "cheerfully works with Bill even after learning his full plot" and "is totally ready to conquer and/or destroy the world." But other than the shocking lack of basic ethics and the supervillain objective he's mostly the same guy—which means he still cares about his family. He's hoping to get them to join in on the world conquest plan.

Forty-odd years ago he went off to college promising someday he'd be a big shot scientist who changes the world and he'd make his family a fortune. If taking over reality doesn't qualify he doesn't know what does. The family can join him and his buddy Bill and rule the universe together. Pines Pines Pines Pines!

Unfortunately for him, the rest of the family still has normal moral compasses. And also they've met Bill.

Bill can't currently possess Ford due to Reasons; but even though he can't get in the driver's seat he still has permission to ride shotgun at any time. Ford talks to him pretty regularly. He HAS been caught doing this. Stan thinks he's just gone a little nutty from thirty years of isolation.

Naturally, since he was always on Bill's side, Ford's perception of events during Weirdmageddon is a bit different:

I finally made an official Evil Ford New Costume Character Design, check out his exciting totally different brand new look:

I decided that, since Ford is still basically the same person aside from his terrible life goals, he'd probably have the same fashion sense. And so... nothing changes except two tiny details lmao.

But he DOES have tattoos:

I traced a canon character model and took off its top to get a base to slap tattoos on, and then went dang... they gave him a big head and arms. He looks goofy. Anyway,

His forearms have less incriminating tattoos—just a birch tree and a sunrise. (The sunrise looks like the Journal 3 "The Muse Has Spoken" page.) The red text is the "triangulum entangulum" ritual; if anyone asks he'll go "it's uhh an ancient Sumerian poem about how great science is." It's not until he's topless that it's like "oh so he's a CULTIST cultist." The one exception is an unconcealed Eye of Providence on his right palm—but it's in an ink that's only visible in certain lighting. It's there so at any time he can point his hand at something and go "Bill are you seeing this BS?"

Of course, he still has the "hey now, you're an all star" neck tattoo. I didn't have room to draw it.

As you can see, he's made being Bill's right hand man a core part of his personality. Rather than spending 30 years scrabbling around the multiverse desperately searching for a way to destroy Bill, he spent 30 years chilling in the Quadrangle of Qonfusion as Bill's specialest favoritest Henchmaniac, and only scrabbling around the multiverse occasionally for fun & profit.

Here's a photo Bill & Ford took at a Nightmare Realm house party like fifteen years ago, three minutes before Bill started an argument and set the house on fire.

Most people have their wild party years in college, Ford has his in his 40s.

#stanford pines #grunkle ford #bill cipher #(he's in enough pictures; he's worth tagging too)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #evil ford au #my art

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clownwritesfanfic · 12 days

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Drift Away - Five Hargreeves x Fem! Reader

Summary: When Five gets stuck in the subway station all alone, he decides to stay in a comfortable timeline while he tries to figure out how to get back to his family, however, he didn’t plan on falling in love with the lonely woman who lives there.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 7,984

Warnings: death, slightly canon compliant but not really, implied sex, slight nudity, author pretends to know wtf they’re talking about when it comes to cottagecore living

Disclaimers: Can you tell I love the subway concept but hate how it was executed? I refuse to believe Five would ever stop trying to go home. Also no Fivela in this because that whole mess is one I don’t want to clean up. Reader dresses feminine. Plus size, poc, and trans fem friendly. If you see something that goes against that, please feel free to say something. Five’s body is 24.

———————————————————————

It had been a little over six years now. Six years of being stuck in a confusing maze of timelines and once again, Five was all alone.

At least in the first apocalypse, he found comfort in Delores. But down here, his only company was the rats.

Five was desperate. He wanted to go home, to see his family again, try and stop yet another apocalypse. He wasn’t going to give up, that wasn’t the kind of person he was.

But this place was driving him crazy. He could focus in here. He wanted a shower, clean clothes, a regular source of clean water and good food. He remembered a timeline he visited that looked peaceful, a place he could relax and feel safe to figure out a way back.

He picked himself up off the ground. His body aching and joints creaking. He may have a twenty-four year old’s body, but it sure felt like his body finally caught up to his age.

Five groaned as he stretched, feeling his sore muscles pull and his vertebrae clicking into place. Damn that felt good.

When the train came to a stop at his station and the doors slowly opened, he stepped on board and collapsed on the nearest seat. He was so hungry and dehydrated that he barely had any energy. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before he could get to the timeline he wanted.

It took about twenty minutes for Five to get to the right timeline, and another seven to exit the station. He was so exhausted that the stairs nearly made him pass out. He knew exactly where he was headed and he couldn’t wait to get there.

When he saw the little cottage far in the distance, he felt a burst of energy. He had been dragging himself along for thirty minutes and the knowledge of having good food and fresh water helped him find the strength to continue.

The gate to the property was open, its latch broken. Five made his way to the greenhouse as it was the closest thing and he knew there were strawberries inside from his last visit.

He opened the door, a burst of warm humid air hit him immediately as he stepped inside leaving the door ajar. He made a beeline for the plants and started picking and eating as many ripe strawberries as he could. They were so sweet and the juice ran down his chin.

He was busy stuffing his face when he heard the familiar cock of a gun causing him to freeze in place.

He slowly turned around, one hand frozen in place holding a strawberry near his face, his mouth full of the fruit. The first thing he noticed was the twin barrels of a shotgun a few feet away pointed directly at his head.

Then his eyes moved down to see whoever was holding the gun, was wearing a beautiful dress that stopped right above the person’s knees.

“What are you doing here?” A stern voice spoke out. The gun was obscuring their face but he could make out the long hair that framed it.

“I’m not going to ask again.” They readjusted the gun as a warning when he took too long to answer.

Five dropped the strawberries he was holding and held his hands up. He roughly swallowed what was in his mouth and tried to speak.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean any harm. I’ve been lost for a long time and I’m starving. I didn’t know anyone lived here.” He explained in a soft voice, trying not to startle the owner.

The gun faltered slightly before it was lowered slightly. A pair of eyes stared back at him with an unreadable look.

The person sighed and finally lowered the gun fully, the click of the safety being turned on being heard through the quiet greenhouse.

Five was able to see them fully now, a woman was stood blocking the entrance, and she looked beautiful.

“Come on, you look rough. I got some proper food inside and some clean clothes.” You gestured for him to follow you as you stepped out of the greenhouse.

Five eagerly followed you out, excited to finally eat something proper and get clean. You closed the door behind him and started towards the cottage a few feet away.

A few chickens roamed around the property, most running out of the way as you two walked but there was one or two you had to nudge out of the way with the barrel of the shotgun. You did it with such care and gentleness that you must’ve had to do it many times before.

You opened the wooden door to the cottage and held it open, gesturing for him to go in first. He thanked you as he passed you and took in his surroundings.

The inside was cute. It was small but not cramped, more…cozy. Plenty of room for two people to be comfortable.

You closed the door behind you and propped the shot gun against the wall. You startled Five, causing him to jump a bit when you accidentally clapped your hands together when brushing them off against each other.

“I’m sure you’d like to take a bath quickly. But everything’s pretty old school around here so it will take me a while to get enough water and warm it up. But I’ve got some soup simmering right now.” You put your hands on your hips as you looked him up and down.

“Thank you. Anything is perfect.” Five knew he looked (and smelled) bad. He hasn’t been able to do anything properly for six years and he was grateful for whatever you could provide.

You nodded, feeling weird having a man around after being alone for so long. You gestured for him to take a seat at the dining table as you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl, ladling some of the soup into it. You placed the bowl down in front of him and grabbed some slices of sourdough bread you had made fresh that day and placed it in front of him as well as a spoon.

Five was nearly drooling at the steaming bowl of soup in front of him along with the fresh bread. You chuckled silently to yourself when you noticed his expression.

“It’s potato and leek and the bread is sourdough, made it today. I’m going to go get a bath ready for you, help yourself to seconds if you’d like, there’s plenty left.” You patted his shoulder before you left towards the bathroom.

“Thank you.” He called as you left and dug in. He moaned as the creamy and smooth soup slid down his throat so easily and warmed him up from the inside. He was quick to dip a piece of the bread into the soup and scarfing it down. He hasn’t had a proper meal in years so he couldn’t control himself.

It was about twenty five minutes later when he wandered into the bathroom. He had helped himself to seconds like you said and he also washed his dishes. He didn’t want to be any more of a burden than he already felt.

The bathroom was small. There was a big long metal tub sat on the side of the room, a wooden shelving unit with potted plants on the top few shelves and some different soaps on the lower shelves with in reach of the tub. On the opposite side of the small room was a metal basin full of charcoal that was glowing orange.

There was a window a few feet above the tub that was slightly open for ventilation, there was a door that lead to the outside that was wide open. As Five was busy observing his surroundings, you walked in from the open door. A pole was over your shoulders, two big metal buckets full of water on either side.

“Oh…hello…” You were startled at the sight of him but you couldn’t let it stop you cause the buckets were starting to feel heavier by the minute. You bent down at the knees and slid the pole off your shoulders, causing the buckets to hit the ground with a thump making some water splash out onto the concrete floor.

“I..uh…the soup was really good, thank you.” Five shuffled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. He was impressed by your strength, and watching you do it in a dress was just the cherry on top. He was used to seeing strong women due to his time in the Commission, but none of them looked as soft and feminine as you did. It was clear you were a tough individual and he liked it.

“No problem.” You lifted the buckets up and set them in the pile of lit charcoal and used a stick to move the charcoal around so it surrounded the buckets. “Sorry, I don’t have running water. I’ve gotten used taking cold baths, usually only heating it in the winter but I thought you’d appreciate a warm bath more.” You brushed your hands off and placed them on your hips.

“You don’t have to go through all this trouble for me.” Five felt awkward, he’d never had anyone care about him this much and he was slowly starting to realize how much he craved a simple life like this.

You waved him off with a scoff. “Just gaining some good karma points.” You joked. You reached in the cabinet that the container of charcoal was sat on top of and grabbed some big fluffy towels out and set them on the middle shelf near the tub.

As you checked on the temperature of the water, you explained to Five that all the soap and shampoo was homemade. Despite living in the middle of no where near a forest, you had a neighbour that you regularly trade with. She was an older lady that grew Beehive Ginger, a plant that produced a natural liquid shampoo. You were able to make your own bars of soap pretty easily with the lye you also made. You mostly had everything you needed out here but it didn’t help to build connections with those near by.

As you picked up one of the buckets, holding the bottom with a cloth you picked up earlier and poured it into the bath, Five was thinking to himself how much he wanted a life like this, he hoped he could when he got back to his family and figured out how to stop the Cleanse, but it was tempting to stay here with you.

You poured the second bucket into the tub, it didn’t fill it completely but it was full enough, it would’ve cooled down by the time she was able to grab more water and heat it up anyway and Five was grateful for any amount of water. You scooped up some of the smouldering coals with the bucket and dumped them into the water.

Five gave you a weird look and you let out a breathy laugh. “It will keep the water warm longer. The water put it out and cooled it enough where it won’t burn you, plus, charcoal ash is good for your skin. Helps bring out toxins and such.”

Five nodded and thanked you again. You left to go grab him some extra clothes you said you had lying around and he finally took the opportunity to strip out of his dirty clothing. He wasn’t sure where to put the clothes so he left them in a pile on the floor. When he was fully nude he climbed into the tub and sat down. He groaned when the warm water raised around him. It reached just above his belly button and he took a moment to just sit there and enjoy the warmth. Not wanting the water to get cold, he grabbed a small pitcher that was on one of the shelves next to the various soaps. He scooped up some water and poured it over his head, relishing in the warmth and how it felt as some of the dirt washed right off.

You walked into the bathroom, a folded up shirt, jeans, and a pair of briefs in your arms. You paused when you realized he was in the tub already, you couldn’t blame him, you’d want to clean off as soon as possible if you looked as bad as he did. The tub was high enough where you couldn’t see anything below his shoulders from where you stood.

“Sorry.” You laughed awkwardly. “I’m used to not having to knock. Here, got you some clean clothes. They should fit.” You placed them down on a stool nearby and noticed you hadn’t closed the door to the outside and walked over and latched it shut. “Sorry to get rid of the view but sometimes the goats get too curious and sneak their way in and that usually brings in the chickens.” You laughed.

Five smiled with a huff. “Thank you, again.”

“Stop it. No more of that.” You huffed. “I’ll be around. Just shout if you need something.” You smiled and gathered up his dirty clothing and left.

——————————————————————

An hour or so later, you had his original clothes all washed and hung up outside to dry in the sun.

You were sat at the dining room table, drinking some tea thinking about everything that’s happened so far.

Five entered the dining room and smiled. He opened his mouth to say something before you cut him off. “If you try and thank me one more time I’m going to kick you out.” You semi joked.

He silently laughed and shook his head. “Noted.” He pulled out a chair and sat adjacent to you. “I was actually going to say, I didn’t know how to empty the bath so I just left it.”

You waved your hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it later. Tea?” You gestured to the kettle sitting on the stove.

“I’m more of a coffee guy.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Oh, I’ve got some of that.” You stood up and grabbed the container of instant coffee and poured some into a mug and poured the hot water from the kettle into it and stirred it around. You placed the mug in front of him and sat back in your seat. You made it so quickly it was as if you’ve done it many times before. “Sorry it’s only instant. Coffee is kinda hard to get out here so we’d have to go to the nearest town for it which is about two hours away.”

“I’m grateful to be having any coffee at all. I haven’t had any for twelve years.” He picked up his mug and took a sip. It was the perfect strength, slightly bitter but it wasn’t the worst he’s ever had.

“Oh! I forgot to ask if you want cream or sugar with that.” You sounded concerned but didn’t really make a move to get up.

“Oh no, that’s alright. I take it black. This is great.” Five reassured.

“How are the clothes? They comfortable?” You asked as you sipped your tea.

“Great, yeah. They fit perfectly.” A little too perfectly to be honest.

“That’s good. I cleaned your other clothes, they’re outside right now hanging up.”

You both let a comfortable silence go through for a few minutes before you gasped. “Oh my god…I just realized I never asked for your name.” You laughed.

He smiled after taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s…Five.” He hesitated, not sure on if he should tell you his real name but deciding it was the least he could do.

“Five? Like the number?” You questioned.

“It’s…a long story.” He sheepishly replied.

“I got nothing but time…but I won’t make you talk about something you don’t want to.” He was grateful for that. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

He repeated your name. He liked the sound of it. “Do you live alone? I find it odd that a woman who I’ve only seen wear a dress so far has men’s clothes.”

“I….I had a husband.” You looked away.

“Oh..I’m sorry. I didn’t see a ring so I just assumed…” he trailed off when you grabbed the thin chain around your neck and pulled it out from the top of your dress. A simple metal ring hanging off the edge.

“Hard to do any work around here when you’re worrying about keeping a ring on your finger. Plus I’ve never been one for wearing rings. He made it himself out of some scrap metal he had lying around.” You explained as you played with the ring. “We got married officially down at the courthouse. No wedding though. We were never much for big events like that and we didn’t really have anyone to invite anyway.” Tears pricked at your eyes as you thought back to it all.

“If I may ask, what happened?” Five straightened up in his chair, feeling sorry for you.

“He went out one day to check the traps we have out in the woods…never came back. I went looking for him for months but I never found him. He wasn’t the kind of man to just leave. He loved it here. So I assumed something got him.” You sniffed and wiped your eyes. “Sorry…”

“No no it’s alright. That sounds awful. I’m sorry that happened.” He reached out and laid a hand on yours that was on the table. It was out of character for him, usually he wasn’t good at comforting others, but he felt like he needed to. Something drew him to you.

You smiled weakly. “It’s been three years. You learn to cope and move on quickly. Especially with this kind of life. You don’t get to mope around, there’s always stuff to do here so you have to work through it.”

“It must’ve been hard, having to do everything yourself after having someone else to split the chores with.”

“It was. But you get used to it. You sorta look like him too. The long hair and eyes, they’re just like his.” You smiled. “Anyway…enough about me. You can stay as long as you’d like. I’ve only got one bedroom but the couch is surprisingly comfortable. I’ve taken many naps on it. Sorry I can’t offer you something better.”

Five smiled. “Anything is better than what I’ve been sleeping on for the past six years.”

——————————————————————

Five originally planned on staying for a few days. But a few days turned into a few weeks, which then turned into a few months.

He hadn’t given up on finding a way home but he got a little…distracted. He helped you out around the house and small farm you had. You taught him how to do a lot of the more labour intensive tasks and over time you two grew closer.

You were in the greenhouse, collecting some of the strawberries to make jam later when Five appeared in the doorway, a watering can in his hand. He was wearing a green knitted sweater that used to be your husband’s favourite. He paused for a second to admire you and smiled to himself and busied himself with watering the plants.

You glanced over and smirked to yourself and picked one of the smaller strawberries and threw it at him. He tried to hold back a smile at your antics when he got hit with another strawberry, and then another, and another. Finally, he turned to you.

“You’re not going to have enough to make jam if you keep throwing them at me.” He smiled gently at you.

“Ah, they’re just the shitty ones I would’ve fed to the chickens. I think I have enough now anyway.” You took a few steps towards him before you stepped on the handle of a trowel that was left on the ground. It caused you to slip and you dropped the basket of strawberries in shock, you prepared to catch yourself when Five caught you just in time.

You both made eye contact. You felt a shiver go down your spine at seeing eyes that looked so similar to your late husbands. You felt yourself get lost in them the longer you looked and Five felt the same.

The last person he ever loved was Delores, and she wasn’t even real but he loved her all the same. But you made him feel the same way, only a thousand times more. He had started to fall for you over the months of being alone together.

He glanced down at your parted lips, silently asking for permission. You sucked in a small breath and looked down at his. He slowly leaned in, tilting his head slightly before closing his eyes and softly kissing you. When you parted you looked at each other again before Five whispered.

“Was that weird?”

“No…but that’s what makes it weird.” You replied.

At that, Five cupped the back of your neck and pulled you closer, bringing your lips back to his. This time the kiss was more passionate and loving. You held onto his shoulders, gripping his sweater.

You slowly dragged your kisses down his jaw right to a specific spot on his neck and harshly sucked. Five threw his head back and moaned lightly. He hadn’t been given a hickey before but it felt so good. After a few seconds you pulled away and admired the bruise starting to form.

You pulled away from him and walked towards the greenhouse door. He looked at you in confusion, wondering if he did something wrong or if you were just toying with him when you turned around to look at him and leaned against the doorframe.

“You coming?” You smirked with a look in your eyes.

He grinned and stalked towards you with a predatory look on his face. You giggled and took off towards the house with him chasing behind you.

——————————————————————

Five had been with you for six months now. He has since graduated from sleeping on the couch to sharing your bed.

He has been everything you could ask for. Attentive, loving, patient, caring, hard working, etc. He was perfect in your eyes.

You were once again in the greenhouse. It was your favourite place after all. You were sat on a crate, using some shears to tidy up some flowers for the small bouquet you were putting together.

Five walked in carrying two rabbits. “Oh wow look at that. Two this time.” You smiled.

“All because of your traps.” He winked and kneeled in front of you.

“Such a flatterer.” You smirked as you put down the shears and placed the last flower with the rest. “What are you hiding?” You inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying hard to hide his smile.

“I know you. You got that look.”

“What look?”

“That guilty ‘I have a secret’ look!” You laughed.

“I have no such look.” He bit his lip holding back his smile.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes with a grin.

“Ok ok you’re twisting my arm.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out. “Here.” He holds it out to you.

You gently take it from him and notice it’s a bracelet made of metal. It’s beautifully twisted together making a unique piece of art. “Oh…Five, this is beautiful. Where did you get this?”

“I made it. Used the scrap metal I found lying around.” He looked up at you.

“I love it.” You looked up from admiring the bracelet into his eyes.

“I aim to please.” He looked at you full of love and smiled.

You grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. He placed a hand on your waist and leaned in to the kiss. He was always such a good kisser. It was passionate and full of love and want and always left you breathless.

You both slowly pulled away, leaning your foreheads together as you caught your breath.

“I love you, Five.” you whispered as you softly scratched his scalp.

“I love you too. So much.” He replied, his thumb rubbing your waist.

As much as you’d love to keep the moment going, he slowly pulled away and stood up. “I’m going to go look for more scrap metal, we’re getting low and one of the traps needs to be fixed. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“Oh, okay. Be careful.” You smiled at him as he stood in the doorway.

“I will, love.” He replied softly before turning around and leaving.

Your smile fell as soon as he was gone. Now was as good a time as any.

——————————————————————

Despite finding peace and happiness with you, Five never stopped trying to find a way back home. His family was important to him and even though you were apart of it now, he still wanted to get back to his siblings.

He told you all about his family, his powers, how he got trapped in the future, his true age, everything that lead him to that point in time with you. The only thing he left out, was the subway. It was quite a distance away from your little piece of heaven and he didn’t want you to get stuck by accident like he did.

It was the one secret he kept from you, but what he didn’t know was that you had one of your own.

You had been feeling suspicious for a while about where he was getting all the metal. It was woods and foliage for miles so you had no clue where he was getting it all.

You weren’t stupid, you knew how much his family meant to him and you saw how it effected him being away from them for so long yet again. There would be days where he wasn’t himself, he was visibly depressed and his mind was occupied with the thoughts of his family. He would reassure you that he loved his life with you and didn’t regret a single thing, but being apart from them was hard.

But you were selfish. As much as you would love to meet his family, you refused to lose the one man that made you happy, again.

You waited for Five to get a head start before you went after him. You had to be careful, you knew he was a trained assassin and a former CIA agent, one little mistake and he’d catch you and you didn’t have an excuse thought up if he did. Luckily, you had some training yourself. Not at the level of Five’s but good enough where you were able to sneak up on him a few times before.

You followed a few yards behind him, staying close by but far enough behind where you won’t lose sight of him.

After about twenty minutes of walking, Five reached the entrance to the subway station. He looked around as a precaution before descending the stairs. Luckily, you had ducked down before he could spot you, you rose from your spot as you watched him go down the stairs.

You walked over and looked down from the top of the stairs and sighed heavily.

——————————————————————

A few months later, you were outside feeding the chickens when Five walked outside, he had the messenger bag he always used when going out slung around him.

He hadn’t needed to go to the subway station since the time you secretly followed him but a lot of things needed repairs recently so he had to find some more metal soon.

He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek. “I’m going out now. Be back soon, okay?” He said softly as he rested his head on your shoulder.

Five has become more touchy and cuddly recently and you’re not too sure why but you’re not exactly complaining.

“I can come with you. I don’t have much else to do right now that’s urgent. Just lemme finish up here.” You replied, throwing the rest of the seed to the birds.

“No no, it’s okay, love. You stay here. It’s safer here than out there.” He tried persuade you.

You huffed and turned around in his arms. “Five, I’ve survived out here on my own for three years before you showed up. I think I can handle it.”

“I know, but please? Just stay here. It gives me peace of mind knowing you’re here safe.” He looked down at you with pleading eyes.

You sighed exasperatedly. “Fine. But don’t be too long or I’m coming after you.”

“I won’t, love. See you soon.” He kissed you before taking off.

Five felt guilty. He had found a notebook that had the answers to find his way back home. He had held on to it for so long but he had no clue how to bring it up to you. He loved you, and he loved his life with you so much. But he also wanted to save his family, and as much as he’d love to bring them here, he knew most of them would refuse to drop their new lives to start over completely. Plus your cottage and garden kept both of you living comfortably and he had no idea what this timelines world was like outside of the small bubble you stayed in.

He was going to scavenge for metal but he was also hoping to study the notebook a little more. He had covered the subway walls in equations while he tried to think of all the possibilities of getting his family safe while also being able to stay with you. He knew you wouldn’t want to leave your timeline, especially since the one he was trying to get back to was turning to shit quite quickly.

Five had walked this path so many times that he was walking on auto pilot while looking down at the notebook and thinking. He had made it to the station and was about to take the first step down when he bumped into something solid.

He looked up and saw a bunch of wooden planks and chains blocking the entrance.

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself.

“I knew you’d come here.” He turned around when he heard your voice. You were stood a few feet away looking disappointed.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? I told you to stay back.”

“I know. But I wasn’t going to let you go down there again.” You crossed your arms.

“You did this?” He gestured to the shoddily put together barrier. “How do you even know about this place?”

“I followed you last time. I knew you were hiding something. Plus I was curious as to where all the metal was coming from. So…what’s that?” You nodded towards the notebook he was still holding.

“You have no right to keep me out of there.” He ignored the question and walked towards you.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. You’re not going down there again.” You stood your ground.

“Oh yeah? And where else would I get the materials we need?” He was starting to get pissed off.

“Fuck all that! I don’t give a shit about that! What are you doing down there that’s so fucking important?” You yelled, getting frustrated with him diving the question.

“Trying to find a way back home! To my family!” He raised his voice back, throwing his arms up.

“This is your home now, Five. You’re happy here. We both are.”

“This is NOT my home. Without my siblings here, it will NEVER be home. With or without you here.”

That hit you hard. You felt a pang in your chest at hearing that.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave as soon as you can? You just can’t WAIT to get away from me huh?”

“Don’t be stupid.” He huffed.

“Stupid?! You won’t even tell me what the fuck is in that notebook or where you go it!” You waved your arms around.

“It’s the answer I’ve been looking for on how to get back to my timeline. Now, take this shit down so I can finish my equations.” He sighed.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. You’re staying here.” You stared at him while he glared at you.

Five got close to you, getting up in your face. “What the fuck is your problem? What makes you think I won’t just blink down there and leave right n-“

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU AGAIN!” You screamed as tears finally started falling down your face.

This startled Five, causing him to back up. It took him a second before he spoke up again.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” He questioned.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head, hugging yourself.

“Y/N…” Five warned as he took a step towards you.

You hung your head as your tears kept falling. “I knew about timelines long before you showed up.” You sniffed and lifted your head, looking off to the side. “My husband…he…he found this place years ago. He went on the subway and came back telling me all about it. He was so captivated by it that he kept coming back, taking it to different timelines. I went with him once but we ended up somewhere awful. I never wanted him to go down there again. I didn’t trust it. But of course he was too stubborn and didn’t listen. He went out one day and…never came back. I waited for years. I came out here every day for about two of those years, just waiting for him to walk back up. I wanted to close it off but kept it open just incase he came back. Then you showed up…and I…I thought that you…were him. You looked and sounded the exact same. Even had the same name. But I knew you couldn’t have been him from the way you acted when we first met. But when I gave you his clothes to wear…all I saw was him.” You wiped your tears away.

Five was silent for a while. Trying to process everything you just dumped on him. “So…I was a replacement, for the version that you lost.” He clenched his jaw.

“No!” You looked at him with surprise. “No I swear you weren’t a replacement. Even if he was a version of you and you had a lot in common, you’re also different. There are things you do, things you say, that are so different from him. I never saw you as a replacement. I never saw you as him. I just saw someone so familiar that I felt so comfortable with. You made me fall in love all over again with a whole new person.” You tried to explain quickly.

Five sighed and looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I need to get home.”

You sucked in a breath. “Five, please. Please don’t leave me alone out here again. I’ll…I’ll do better! I will do whatever you want as long as you just stay here. Please.” You felt tears stinging your eyes again as you reached out and held onto him.

“Y/N…” He sighed. He brought his arms around you and held you close. “I love you. I really do. But I don’t belong here. I’d love to stay with you. I really do. But your Five is out there somewhere. Stuck just like I was. He belongs here with you. I need to be with my family. I’m sorry.”

You sobbed into his chest as you tightened your grip on him.

“I’ll find your Five. I promise. I’ll find him and I’ll bring him back to you. You’re strong, you can take care of yourself while I look for him.” He reassured as he nuzzled into your hair.

“How do you know he’s even still alive?” You whimpered into his chest.

“He’s a Five. We’re stubborn, and if he loved you as much as I do then I know he’s fighting to get back to you.”

You both stood there, the air cold as you held each other. Your sobs mixing in with the sound of the wind. After a couple of minutes, your tears died down and you slowly pulled away from Five. He looked down at you, evidence of his own silent tears on his face.

You reached up and wiped the tears off his face. “I love you, Five. Just as much as I loved mine.”

He caught one of your wrists. “I know.” He whispered before kissing your palm. You both looked into each others watery eyes before stealing one last kiss.

When you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against his, one last time. “Do you promise you’ll find him?”

“I promise.”

With that, you backed away from him and held your hands close to your chest, one of them playing with the bracelet he made you all that time ago. You watched him look at you one more time, smiling, before suddenly he was gone in a flash.

You felt yourself fall to your knees as your curled in on yourself as you sobbed.

——————————————————————

Five had managed to arrive safely in his timeline. He was going to keep his promise to you, but first he needed to see his family.

His heart was still heavy at the thought of leaving you behind but he tried not to let it show. He didn’t want his siblings to pry too much when the wound was still open.

He walked up to the familiar house and sighed before knocking on the door. It opened to reveal Lila.

“Hey there you are. Finally.” She looked him up and down. “What the hell are you wearing?” She questioned.

“I can’t be comfortable?” He countered.

“Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ve only ever seen you in suits or a school boy uniform. It’s weird seeing you in casual clothes.” He rolled his eyes at her statement. He certainly didn’t miss her quips. Lila stepped back and opened the door more to let Five in.

As soon as he stepped inside he saw Diego with Grace on his hip. “Heyyyy you made it, Cinco! Come on in, take your shoes off first though.”

Five softly smiled at the sight of his family safe and sound.

——————————————————————

Five found himself back in the subway station pretty quickly. The Cleanse had yet to be stopped and everything was escalating so fast but he knew he had a promise to keep. He hated leaving his family again with no explanation but he refused to let you down.

He was prepared to spend another six years down there all alone just for you. Luckily, he had only spent a few hours searching different timelines when he came across a deli.

He had followed what he swore was an another version of him down there. He hoped it was the one he was looking for.

However, he was shocked to find the entire place was full of doppelgängers. “Hey! Over here.” The Five in the suit that he followed called him over to a booth.

“What is this place?” He sat down across from himself.

“It’s a gas station. What the hell’s it look like? It’s a deli.” His counterpart replied sarcastically, sipping some coffee.

Another Five chuckled in the booth behind him while yet another copy of himself placed down a mug of coffee and two pastrami sandwiches on the table.

“Little light on the sauerkraut don’t you think?” Five joked.

“Yeah, it says it on the menu and I keep telling him but…he never listens.” He shook his head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Theoretically it is.” He picks up the mug of coffee.

“Oh, you’re not gonna like that.” The other Five points out.

He looks down at the coffee with a frown.

“So! I take it your figured out the subway system by now.” The Five takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Alternate versions of the same moment in time?”

“That is correct. You’d be surprised how long it took some of the Five’s to figure that out.” Five mumbles with a mouth full. It made him think back to you and how you always scolded him if he talked with his mouth full. He hoped you were alright.

Five swallowed and continued. “We’re all you. From alternate timelines, most of us have given up trying to fix the problem.”

He looked at his counterpart, confused. “What problem?”

“The broken timeline, man. There’s only supposed to be one.” Five sipped his coffee.

He thought for a moment. “I don’t get it.”

“Look around, Five.” He sighed. “Does this seem right to you?”

He looked to the side. “Well, no-“

“You think Einstein was thinking of this when he was figuring out relativity? Not a chance. This shit would’ve made his head explode.” He took another sip of his coffee.

“Ok so, what shattered the original timeline?” Five questions.

“Not what…who. And I’ll give you three guesses to figure it out.” A ding is heard through the deli.

“We did!” Another Five from behind the counter shouts.

The Five across from him looks exasperated. “Why you always gotta wreck shit, Brisket Five? Why?”

“By we he means…the family, my siblings?”

“The morons, yeah.”

“I’m familiar with them, yeah.”

“One perfect timeline and the moment we come into existence; boom! Shattered. Into an infinite number of alternate timelines in an infinite loop of time. As we try and save the world- how many times…was it again?” Five leaned over and asked the Five in the booth behind him.

“One hundred and forty five thousand four hundred and twelve.” The Five lowered his newspaper to look at the other two.

“That’s a lot. He’s like Rain Man, that one. He loves num- oh by the way. Look at the artwork.”

He turned and looked at all the framed photos littering the walls.

“All the different ways we made our universe go kaboom. Gold star for consistency, am I right?” He joked.

“We need to fix this.”

“Oh trust me, we tried. That’s why one of us created the commission. By the way that’s why there’s no paradox psychosis here. Uses the same technology that Five did for the panic room. He wanted to undo all the broken timelines, get back to the one and only. But that always fails because…?” He prompted.

“The family is the problem. We’re doomed to save or destroy the world over and over again and infinitum.” He sighed.

“Bingo.” A Five sat at a table holding a coffee chimed in.

“Bingo.” The Five across from him repeated with his mouth full.

“I need to get back to my family. Stop this from ever happening.” He stood up.

“Well…good luck with that. Guess you don’t want your brisket to-go?” The Five reached for his plate and slid it towards him.

He was about halfway to the door when he remembered his promise and turned around. “One last thing. I spent a year in a different timeline with a woman. Her name is Y/N, she said she lost her husband because of the subway and that he’s another Five.”

“Y/N, huh? Only a few of us have met someone with that name, but chances are you’re looking for that one over there.” He pointed to another Five who looked the worst out of all of them. He was hunched over a table in the far corner, head in his arms. “Used to talk non stop about his wife named Y/N and how he had to get home to her. Poor bastard got stuck and went crazy trying to find his way back.”

That’s all Five needed to hear. He walked over to the Five and shook his shoulder. The Five grumbled but lifted his head.

“Hey, I know how to get you back to your timeline. Your wife misses you a lot. She’s waiting for you right now.”

“Y/N?!” He straightened up.

“Yeah. C’mon. She needs you.” He helped the Five stand and lead him out of the deli.

——————————————————————

On the subway ride back to your timeline, your Five was pacing back and forth.

“Sit down. You’re gonna fall on your ass when the train stops.” Five tried to calm him down.

“I haven’t seen her in years. She told me to stop coming down here but I just couldn’t fucking listen and I ended up leaving her all alone.” He brushed his hand through his messy and dirty hair.

“Hey. She’s strong. She was doing just fine by herself when I met her. I promise she’s okay. She’ll be happy to see you again.” He sighed. He really wishes it could be him, but now that he knew his family was destined to destroy the world no matter how hard they try to stop it, he had to go back and be with them.

When the train stopped in the right timeline, he guided the other Five out. “Ah shit.” He muttered when he got to the stairs and saw it was still blocked off. “Forgot she did that.” He grabbed the other Five and blinked them to the surface. He shivered at the cold air. It must have been a few months since he left considering there was now snow on the ground.

“This way. I’m not sure how long it’s been for her so let’s not keep the lady waiting.” The disheveled Five followed close behind him, growing anxious at the familiar scenery. His heart started beating hard in his chest when he saw the cottage in the distance.

As they got closer, they could both see you exiting the greenhouse, a basket in your hands.

“Oh my god…” The Five whispered. He stood still in shock at seeing you again. You looked just as beautiful as he remembered. “Y/N!” He called out.

You looked around at the sound of your name being called. You had been hallucinating hearing your name in Five’s voice since he left so you were in complete shock when you looked over and saw your original Five a few yards away.

You dropped the basket, its contents spilling onto the snowy ground, and beelined for your husband, jumping right over the fence.

He ran towards you, quickly closing the distance before colliding in a desperate hug. Tears were pouring down both of your faces as you squeezed each other right. Scared that either one of you might disappear.

You looked up from his shoulder and through blurry vision you could see the Five you spent a year with standing in the distance. You smiled at him and mouth a “thank you” to him.

He smiled sadly back at you and nodded. You closed your eyes and nuzzled deep into your husbands neck. When you opened them again, Five had disappeared from view. You frowned, a part of you will always love and miss him, but you had your true Five back now. You could only hope he found someone that made him happy.

You pulled back from the hug and looked your Five in the eyes and smiled through the tears. “Welcome home, honey.”

——————————————————————

As Five stood hand in hand with his family as the Durango slowly consumed him, he thought back to you.

He had no idea what timeline was the right one, but he could only hope, that even if it was a slim chance, that your timeline was the correct one.

As you laid in bed, cuddled up to your husband, you didn’t feel a thing as your timeline disappeared.

——————————————————————

On the twelfth hour, of the eighth day of August, 2024, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

Y/N would say, it was just a normal day as she watered the marigolds in her garden.

#I cried like twice while writing this #anyway did y’all see that twist coming? hehe #I tried my best with the foreshadowing lol #no you didn’t survive. a version of you in the correct timeline did tho #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x you #five Hargreeves x you #number five #number five x reader #tua five

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ghostlywhiskey · 8 months

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late night cuddling with Simon, he’s super sleepy and you just can’t stop talking, I’m in need.

the type of man who will let you keep rambling and will give you the occasional 'mhm' instead of telling you to be quiet right away and that he's trying to sleep.

the two of you had slipped into bed hours ago to watch a movie, but by this point it had been long done. the entirety of the movie was filled with bursts of you making comments and trying to figure out what happened next. and in response, simon's hand lazily scratching your back while you cuddled next to him would come to a stop and instead would poke your backside. "jus' keep watching, love," he murmurs quietly, eyes focused on the tv on the wall opposite of the bed.

and even with the movie being done, you still managed to trail off and talk about random topics. questions here and there that were rhetorical and sometimes specifically directed towards simon. a string of 'yes, love', 'mhm, yeah i agree' and other quick words to indicate he was listening only fueled the continuation of your ramblings. but soon enough, he couldn't fight the sleep his body had been trying to give in to the past thirty or more minutes, eyes drooping shut.

"simon, are you listening?" your voice registered in his head, and keeping his eyes closed he rolled onto his side while adjust your position as well so your back was against him. draping an arm over your body and tugging you close, his lips pressed against the back of your head.

"you're an energizer bunny, y'know?" his voice laced with teasing despite the way it left his mouth like a grumble. your cheeks warmed at the comment, feeling embarrassed at your constant rambling for the past few hours now.

"sorr-"

"don't apologize." his arm gave you a gentle squeeze. "keep talkin' all you want. can't promise i'll reply in the next five minutes," a small yawn escaped his lips as he shifted slightly, his head nestled against the pillow but his arm never loosening its hold on you. so, you quietly rambled on once more and a soft chuckle from simon vibrated against you when he realized you would still keep going even if he was going to crash asleep any minute. the last words from him are a quiet ' love you' that's just managed to leave his lips before sleep washes over him.

#simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley x reader fluff #simon riley #simon riley cod #nic talks ghost #nic responses #gw sfw ghost

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thirteenducks · 9 months

Text

feverish

(wriothesley x wife!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to by ‘wife’ and "she/her"), established relationship, marriage, reader has hair long enough to reach neck

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.5k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic, banter while sick, this is just wrio taking care of you and being a butt while doing it, feat. sigewinne who does not get paid enough for this, if you are sick and reading this rn im so sorry and i hope you get well soon, coldsink wrio x heatsource wife agenda

༻❁༺ author’s note: my friend @mmmairon is sick and i am in another country and cannot help so i'm sending wrio on my behalf. pls enjoy especially if you don't feel well right now :(

After a restless night, Wriothesley is thrilled to hear that you're awake now. He wastes no time in rushing to your side.

Wriothesley’s pen scratches unpleasantly against a disciplinary notice, its point threatening to carve into the wood of the desk beneath. The owner mutters darkly under his breath as he completes a signature on the offending paper and slides it to his left. Immediately, another takes its place from the stack on his right.

For two hours, nothing else has broken the quiet of the Duke’s office. Two hours too long, by Wriothesley’s measure. He glances at the clock, hand continuing to sign his name by sheer muscle memory.

Are you getting any rest? Did the chamomile from your tea an hour ago help at all, or are the throes of fever keeping you awake? Does he have the right ingredients to make you beef stew? Preoccupied, he writes “soup” on the signature line of a prisoner release form by mistake.

He sighs, pinching the crooked bridge of his nose between his fingers. They’re as cold as ever. He misses the warmth of yours unspeakably.

The next thirty minutes pass like an eternity. Surely, Sigewinne would be at his side in an instant if you were awake. His presence there now would only serve to wake you from much-needed rest and defer his backlog of paperwork even more. Neither of these points keeps him from staring the clock down like he’s in the ring again.

Suddenly, there’s a quiet knock on his door and Wriothesley snaps to attention, nearly knocking over an inkwell in his haste. Sigewinne enters without his bidding, an unreadable expression on her kind face. She doesn’t wait for his question before she answers it.

“Yes, the tea put her to sleep, and yes, she’s awake now.”

His features relax in a moment, the furrow in his brow smoothing.

“I’m afraid she’s not any better than she was this morning, however. I would have really liked to see her fever come down by now...” The Melusine trails off, her small hand on her chin and a pout on her face. “The chill probably isn’t doing her much good, either.”

Her boss, however, is already halfway downstairs, pulling his coat on as he takes the steps two at a time. Sigewinne sighs as she turns to follow him at a much slower pace. So predictable when his wife is involved.

In contrast to the speed at which he crosses the fortress to your shared living quarters, Wriothesley’s steps are soft as he nears your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart? Are you up?”

A weak cough answers him. He’s by the bedside in a moment, kneeling and pushing aside the curtain that hides you from him. Your eyes squint a bit as the sickly light of the fortress filters in, and his hand moves up to shield your face as he appears in your field of vision.

Despite the red ringing your eyes and nose and the congestion in your breathing, you smile up at him and his heart almost jumps out of his chest.

“Hi, darling.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. “Hi. Feeling any better?”

You shake your head slightly, your hair fanning out on the pillow beneath you. He silently gathers it in one hand and moves it away from your neck as he waits for you to continue. The brush of his cool hand against your flushed skin feels incredible and you bring your hand to rest on his, a silent entreaty to keep it there.

“Sigewinne says I’m in the worst of it now and that from here-” you stop to cough, Wriothesley’s eyes raking over your frame as it shakes with the effort. “-from here it should be uphill. As long as I can rest up today.”

He pushes the hair back from your forehead with his other hand, stroking it absentmindedly. “Well, we’ll have to stick it out until tomorrow then, huh?” The grin he shoots you, all teeth, does more for you than you think any of the medicine on your bedside table has.

That’s why you’re as surprised as he is when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. You hadn’t even known they were there until now, but suddenly it’s so much harder to breathe than it was and Wriothesley is a swimming blur in front of you. The shooting pain in your head, dulled to an ache until now, comes back in full force as your body curls in on itself and your temple meets your husband’s shoulder.

You don’t know if you’re crying from the headache, from exhaustion, or from something else, and your mind is too foggy to care. All you can do is be held as his arms come to rest firmly around you and he pulls you to him, murmuring words of comfort.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry... I wish I could do more.” Your hands grip his collar a little tighter as you sob into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I know, love. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. Sigewinne and I are gonna take care of everything, okay?”

There’s an edge of concern to his voice that you can hear even through the haze of sickness. You hate it. It’s likely just the seasonal flu; half the Fortress has had it at some point this winter. The thought of how much you were making him worry over something so small as this...

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it,” Wriothesley gently reprimands, his cool fingers stroking your forehead again. You can feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against the heated skin. “You’re not being a baby about anything. You hear me?”

Your silence speaks volumes. He laughs a little, the sound loud in the silence of your bedroom. “I know you well, don’t I?”

It takes a while for your tears to completely subside. When you’re finished sniffling against his collar, he props you up against the headboard with pillows behind your back. You’re more congested than ever, something your husband has the nerve to laugh at as he hands you tissues, but there’s no unkindness in his tone.

He disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes as you doze, exhausted from the effort of crying for so long. When he eases the door open again, he’s carrying a tray with a teacup and pot (of course) and a bowl of something that smells warm and comforting.

“Hmm. Excellent room service this place has. The waiter is a little scruffy, though,” you say as Wriothesley places it on your lap, tucking in the covers around you.

He gives you a fake look of injury. “How dare you, ma’am. I’ll have you know I’m too worried about my wife to shave, who I’m afraid is deathly ill,” he sighs, stroking the stubble on his jaw. He spoons soup into your mouth before you can retort, stifling a smile.

Once you’ve drained half the soup, Wriothesley seems satisfied. He removes the tray from your lap and takes your hand, bringing it to his own forehead.

“Oh, no. How awful.” He shoots you a glance. “It appears the Duke of the Fortress has come down with something.”

You raise an eyebrow. His forehead is as cool as the rest of him is. “Really.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, flopping onto your lap. “It looks like he’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day.”

You laugh, wincing when it makes your head throb. “The Duke sounds like a slacker, if you ask me.”

“Well, everyone knows that,” Wriothesley murmurs, burying his face into your thigh. “They’ll have to tell my boss about it.” You feel him grin against your leg.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “What a shame. I was just about to ask him to dinner, too.”

Wriothesley has migrated to his side of the bed by now and is nestling into your side with the stubbornness of a dog. “Don’t worry, I hear he’s a messy eater. Absolute carnivore.”

Your hands come to rest on his head, the soft grey strands tickling your palms. “You know you’re going to get sick, right? I’m highly contagious.”

No answer.

“You’re the head of the Fortress, Wrio. If you get laid up, Sigewinne might put a bounty out on you. She seems like the type.”

Your husband murmurs into your side, already half-asleep. “She’ll have to catch me first.”

Despite your many blankets and the body next to you, a sudden chill runs through you and you stiffen. He feels it, arms tightening around your waist.

“Fever pills are on the bedside in the white bottle. Water is next to it.”

You smile. “Thank you, darling.” He hums in response.

A few days later, you’re well enough to leave your room again. Sigewinne would be thrilled, if not for your husband, who looks more smug than any sick man has a right to be.

He sniffles, burrowing into your sheets again as the Melusine glares daggers at him. “I’ll be fine. My wife loves me and I have leftover soup in the fridge. What else does a man need?”

#wriothesley #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #fem!reader #mairon if u see this please feel better #this is also lowkey for me the next time i get sick #just planning ahead ig #anyway. simp wrio agenda

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marasmadness · 2 months

Text

Only Need You For The Oxytocin- Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

CW: season 17 section chief Emily💋, stripper!reader, erm not everything Emily does is very legal but let us all close our eyes for the time being, interrogation, enemies to less than enemies. everybody is very flirty in government buildings where they should not be! handcuffs, smut, rough sex, power dynamics (dom!emily), bondage, thigh riding, light degradation, oral sex (em receiving), choking, semi public sex

Rossi tapped his fingers against the windowsill of an interrogation room, turning to face Emily beside him. “Some of the most psychopathic men have sat in the room and started to squirm after thirty minutes. She’s been sitting in there for two hours, unphased.

“She’s not a man,” Emily mumbled, watching the woman on the other side of the glass with squinted eyes. ”I’m going to talk to her.” Emily perked up, finally growing impatient. Grabbing her jacket off the chair behind her, she slipped it on, knowing that Rossi had already turned down the thermostat in there.

"Prentiss, wait, we already drew up a profile. We won’t get anything out of her. She’ll just try to play with you.”

“Let her,’ she replied, leaving Rossi with a half-open mouth as she dipped inside the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, you’re a new one.” You smiled at the older woman who had finally walked into the room, alluding to the three other agents who had entered hours ago and quickly left. “Shame, Agent Jareau and I were having a grand old time. You could be fun too,” you commented, eyeing her up and down as she introduced herself.

Emily cleared her throat, choosing to ignore your comments. “I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU. Do you know why you’re here today?”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “Because your team wanted to have a little chit chat?”

“Bullshit, you’re too smart for this. You know why you’re here.” Ignoring the chair across from you, she opted to sit against the edge of the table. I’ve already talked to just about everyone else in your club and every other one in the city, for that matter, and they all came to one conclusion. If I needed information, you would have it. She explained calmly yet sternly as she swept her arm toward the door.

You sighed as you rested your tilted head on your palms. “You speak like this is an expectation from me, yet your men dragged me in from the parking lot on the way out of my shift and didn’t tell me anything until I was sitting in your interrogation room, like I’m the one running around committing crimes,” you said pointedly. “And don’t think I didn’t realize your old friend out there was lowering the thermostat, thinking it would get me to tell you whatever you wanted; I’m barely wearing any fucking clothes; of course I’d notice when it drops a few degrees.”

A sense of unease flashed across Emily’s face as she felt slightly guilty. She had come in headstrong, and you were right, without knowing how you ended up here in the first place. She was still standing in a room across from you, who was already on edge, so instead of rewinding, she doubled down. “So now what? You’re not going to give us the information we need to stop a serial killer because you’re offended,” she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

You just stared, watching the woman. She wore a gold watch, its face sitting on her inner wrist, which clinked against her belt buckle lightly every time she dropped her hands to her side. Underneath a long red coat that you desperately wished to be under right now, her outfit was sleek and simple: black pants, thin gold jewelry, and a black blouse with newly undone buttons. Your eyes froze on her shirt, your lips pressing into a smile."Really? Two hours of you and your team of profilers brainstorming, and the best you could come up with was that I would spit out all my information if you sent a woman twice my age in to what exactly, seduce me?” Emily looked caught off guard, and you tipped your head toward her chest. “You’re wearing three fewer buttons than when I watched you walk by this room earlier when Luke left, and a fresh coat of lipgloss.”

Emily held up her hand, leaning in closer over the table. "Okay, I get it—not the correct strategy.”

“No, you had my weaknesses spot on; just use them in a bar or a date, not an interrogation room. I’m not that gullible.” You smirked, enjoying watching Emily’s panic level rise, and then her eyes narrowed as a giggle escaped you.

Emily finally took the seat across from you, resting her forehead in her palm. “You’re giving me a headache.”

She heard you shuffle, reaching underneath the table, and eventually looked up when you tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in front of her. She suddenly snapped up in attention. Where did you get those?”

You shrugged, picking one up. “I had them on me.”

“They didn’t search you when you came in?”

You shook your head, going to light one until Emily snatched in from between your fingers. “Stand up,” she directed, dragging two fingers upward through the air as she made her way around the table. You heard her mumble something under her breath, unable to distinguish any of it other than something about doing everything herself around here.

Her hands slid delicately down your sides and along the side seams of your clothes. She hesitated at the sensation of her hands brushing against your bare waist. Clearing her throat, she removed her hands. “Moving on, I need the list of Claire Demont’s regulars; I know she handed the list down to you.”

“I don't feel entirely obligated to help you. Claire has done a lot for me. Men have done a lot of shitty stuff to her. I’m not saying murder is ever the answer, but I don’t doubt that there's a reason for her rage. Can I go home now? Last time I checked, I wasn’t guilty of anything.” You stretched back over the metal frame of the chair, waking up your stiff muscles.

“No yet, but we do have a 24-hour hold because my team is under the very strong impression that you have information regarding the case.” Emily began to trail off upon seeing your disinterested demeanor and knew she wouldn’t be getting through to you. “Look, I can’t get you out of here; the best I can offer you is that we talk in my office instead, but I better be leaving with the list of names, no exceptions, got it?”

“Fine,” you got up slowly, demonstrating restraint to hide your eagerness. Before you could breathe deeply about your new slight ounce of freedom, the agent’s hands were enclosed around both your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back. A short gasp of shock left your lips as you recognized the cold metal rings that clicked around your wrist. “I thought you said I was under arrest,” you muttered, irritated.

Emily’s chin hovered just above your shoulder as she whispered slowly in your ear, “You’re not; that was just for my entertainment.” A soft chuckle escaped her as she pulled away. Looping her fingers around the chain connecting your wrists, she tugged lightly, directing you toward the door.

Emily stepped outside much more composedly than you when you came face-to-face with three security guards outside the room. Emily knew they would be the only ones left in the building; no other agents remained, and they did not alarm her.

You heard a soft noise from over your shoulder, something you couldn’t make out but clearly Emily had. Turning your head, you found a man’s eyes roaming down your skin, almost greedily. Within seconds, Emily had dropped her coat off her shoulders and draped it over your shoulders. Pulling it closed around you, it hung down almost your entire body. Without a comment, her hand naturally fell down by her badge, and she gave a soft nod as she passed by the remaining guards, giving them no reason to question her authority.

Your heart rate sped up the farther you made it down the hallway; its loud beating suddenly became very evident beneath your chest. Peeking a glance over at Emily, she seemed collected and undeterred as she led the way to her office.

Stepping into her office, you immediately opened your mouth to speak. Before you could get a word out, Emily’s hand was over your mouth as you were pressed up against the wall beside her door as she locked it and pulled down the blinds. She eventually dropped her hand, narrowing the space between you slightly with the tilt of her head. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” She smirked before reaching over your waist to undo the cuffs, then looped them back around her belt. “Sit down,” She tossed her hand out across the office as her eyes scanned the rows of shelves lining the back of the room. You took a seat on the edge of her desk, right across from her chair. She pivoted around on her heel, setting a pen and piece of paper next to you. “Names,” she said, tapping the blank sheet with her nail.

You sighed under your breath but picked up the pen anyway, twirling it in between your fingers. Emily slid herself between her chair and your legs, dangling off her desk, before sitting back. ”Just so you know, I never knew all of Claire’s clients. When she left, she only gave me a handful of regulars' names to pass on to me.”

“That’s fine. The more she interacted with them, or the bigger impression she made on them, the more likely these men were to be targets. Do you know if she slept with any of them?”

“No, she never slept with clients, and despite contrary belief, neither did I,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes into a warning glare.

“I never said that,” Emily corrected, her voice remaining low and even throughout every interaction. “Sometimes it's just helpful to know because a man’s sex life can often tell you a lot about him.”

“If that's the information you need, you don’t need a profiler to find that out. You just need a little attention to things other than the physical act of sex.” You flipped the piece of paper in your lap around so the names were facing Emily as your pen rolled down the list. “These three are married and always want to give up control. They crave attention from the dancers but don’t do anything to draw it to themselves. They don’t demand anything; they want you to come to them. And the next handful of names have been single almost their entire lives. Most of them are possessive, and they want to spend the most time with you. They’ll tell you exactly what they want from you. Those men are typically the ones who will pay for a lap dance or two.”

Emily looked up at you, curious and slightly impressed. “You can tell me all that from a few minutes of interaction?” She asked skeptically. Your eyes skipped to the slight movements of her body, her thighs tensing against the tight fabric of her pants, and her ringer fingers closing against her palms as they rested at her side.

“Almost always, it's quite straightforward to discern if a partner is going to be possessive, controlling, desperate, or possessive.” You selected your words carefully, letting them hang in the silence between the two of you almost tauntingly.

Clearing her throat, Emily shook her head softly, causing a strand of silver hair to fall from her shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Without thinking, you slipped off her desk with languid movements, finding yourself hovering over her with knees on each side of her body. You leaned away from her, back arching, so you were suspended over the air in front of her. Within seconds, Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, pulling you farther into the chair. It wasn’t an act of politeness to keep you from falling; it was lust-filled, her bruising grip not lessening or pulling away like two strangers should. Lifting your fingers, you brushed the collar of her shirt out of the way, pressing two fingers to the warm skin beneath her collar bone. Smirking, you felt her skin pulsing against you rapidly—the telltale sound of her racing heart. Tucking her fallen hair behind her ear, you whispered softly and sweetly. “ Just proved it.”

You lifted yourself off of her, starting to climb back down, before her firm grip pulled you forcefully back onto her lap. Her hands slid up her back, fingers playing with the zipper that held your top together teasingly. “Ah, finish what you started, doll.” She positioned you how she wanted to, her thigh between your legs with your hands draped over her shoulders. Her nails trailed down your legs, leaving light red scratches as she tore through your thin fishnet stockings.

Her lips latched to the side of your neck, sucking bruises of red and bluish hues down to your collarbone. Her sudden tightening grip made you suck in a gasp midway through ridding her of her own shirt. “Ride.” With one hand on your waist and the other clinging to the curve of your ass, she started the rocking motion. She flexed her toned thigh, holding you roughly down on her thigh, so every slight movement initiated by her stimulated your clit through the thin fabric between you.

The fact that your breathing was already breaking into stuttered sharp inhales simply from riding her thigh had your face burning. In an attempt to hide the fact, you buried your face against her shoulder, turning away from her unwavering gaze.

She brought your rocking to a halt, stopping to rest a hand on the base of your neck until you had to pull back upright to breathe deeply enough for the stars in your vision to disappear. “Eyes on me,” she corrected without additional comment before continuing her motions.

Sensing you were close to falling apart for her, she tugged your panties to the side, pressing the pad of her thumb to your clit. “Fuck,’ you trembled against her strong frame. The older woman’s eyes suddenly darted over your shoulder, and she quickly brought her hand from between your legs up to your mouth, pushing two fingers coated in your arousal past your lips.Sensing a noise behind you, your eyes widened in fear, realizing she had given you her fingers to keep you quiet.

There was a knock on the door, and Emily didn’t appear to be as alarmed as she should be, in your opinion. “Get under my desk and stay quiet.” She husked directly in your ear, nudging you down onto your knees in front of her, and she called out. “Come in,”

Anderson entered, swiping his badge to unlock the door. “Hey, Agent Prentiss. I just noticed your light was still on and wanted to make sure everything was okay. It’s getting late.”

“I’m good, Anderson, thanks.” She smiled softly as she thanked him. Her eyes fell coolly to the papers you had scattered across her desk from sitting on it. “I’m just finishing up some case files. I’m a bit behind at the moment.” Emily shuffled forward in her chair in an attempt to hide you if Anderson stepped any closer.

Sensing that he seemed to want to linger for a moment, you reached towards Emily’s zipper, her belt already on the floor beside you from your flurry of undressing earlier. Her hands engulfed your wrists, but after a minute of protesting, she had to lift her hand back up to avoid looking like she was fighting something under the table. The opportunity for payback was being handed to you on a silver platter.

Her voice spiked up an octave as her legs clenched over your ears. Unperturbed, your tongue traced along her slit as she kept up with Anderson’s casual conversation about work and what she did when she wasn’t at the office. Her hands dropped lightly into her lap and beneath the view of her desk, but unbeknownst to the man rambling to her, she had her hands gripping at your hair, tugging harshly as your tongue swirled around her clit. She resisted the urge to look down just briefly to catch a glimpse of her arousal smeared across your mouth, hair mussed from her touch.

You picked up your pace as you heard Ansderson start moving back toward the door, which left Emily’s legs quivering as she climbed toward an orgasm with every lap and flick of your tongue. The second the door was locked behind the security guard, Emily’s hands found the back of your head, nudging your mouth into her cunt. “Fuck, you better let me come on your mouth after that little stunt, sweetheart.”

You grinned up at her from the floor, a mischievous look in your eyes as you delved back into her cunt, wrapping your lips around her clit as she moaned while orgasming on your tongue. She panted as she came back down from her high, slouching back into her chair and spreading her legs. She helped you up off the floor, fixing you up before yourself.

In the middle of it all, you picked up a pink sticky note and pen off her desk, scribbling something down. Emily’s eyes narrowed as you held out the sheet. “What is this? You were supposed to give me all the names already.”

“I did,” you said, rolling your eyes at her assumption. "This is the club address, and when I work, Stop by sometime; you do still owe me an orgasm,” you pointed out with a grin.”

“Mhm,” her eyes widened at your boldness as she held one knuckle to her lip, hiding her soft, sly grin. ”Well, I risked my job because you're a desperate little thing, so I think you owe me about three. I thought you didn’t sleep with clients.”

You shrugged and started heading for the door. “Well, there's a first time for everything, or maybe I’m just making an exception for you,’ you teased," she said, pivoting around to return her coat on her arm that you had forgotten about for a brief second.

She gave you a small head tilt. “Keep it; I’ll see you shortly anyways,’ she suggested, and you just dropped your head slightly, smiling on your way out.

"Have a good night, Agent Prentiss.”

#criminal minds #wlw smut #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut

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gamblersdoll · 2 months

Note

Can req for a first time with Bakugou x reader? And both being virgins?

cw in ask. pro hero! bakugou.

bakugou’s biggest problem and concern wasnt him being number two in the hero rankings, nor was it the fact about him having too big or too small of an agency.

it was him being twenty five and still a virgin, thinking he’d lose that shit in his high school years.

yet, the weirdest part? he was in the deepest relationship with you.. so why didnt either of you fuck just yet? he didnt know. at least, not then. now? it was because he was so busy and trying to better himself, yet, he also was picky about how he wanted to take your v card.

what got him was the fact you were simply in some old clothes that had became just the right fit on you, they used to be baggy and his clothes. (until you came into his life and stole them from him.) that was all it took, him seeing you in clothes that hugged you.

sure, he could see your suggestive pictures to him and possibly beat his cock to it, he did it in endeavors’ agency. but now? he wasnt shy, it was just new.

but your inside hadnt felt new to him, his chin pressed against your forehead and he grunting each thrust he pushed into you. the way his arms caged you in and he could barely even keep his composure up. he wasnt too vocal, yet. buutt, his face gave it all away for him.

maybe it was the way each moan you garbled, he feels you tighten up around his cock. maybe it was the way you scratched at his back when he hit that random creamy spot and hes just enamored.

maybe its the way you chant his name, “katsukikatsukikatsuki!” so much, you squeal when he grips your hips, and whimper when he growls.

“fuck, are you s’pposedta be this tight?” he groans, forcing both of you to look where you both meet and watch his cock sink into your cunt, only having his jaw drop and practically drool onto your stomach.

if this is what pure sex felt like, he needed to make you feel like this each every day. but he could only come down from his high when you feel him shoot ropes, him biting his lip until blood draws and he has to pull himself away.

“was that good for ya’?” he asks, pressing your back against his chest and kissing your shoulder. he could only know if you told him, since he just started fucking only thirty minutes ago. hes watched porn. sure, but you werent no average girl he could just apply that to.

“yeah, it was really good, for our first time ever.” you say, him nodding and pressing a finger into your walls. you tense up, him drawing it out and inspecting.

“youre not bleeding, anymore.” he mumbles, a tinge of fear yet relief. you shoo him, reassuring and giving him kisses. “yeah, yeah, i know its normal.”

no he didnt, because he never wants to make his beautiful girl bleed, ever.

yet, he needed more.

#bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo katuski #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki smut #katsuki x black!reader #bakugou x black! reader #bakugou x black reader #boku no hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #dvorahasks

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darthfighter · 3 months

Text

it’s you.. isn’t it?

Chapter Two of Your Shadow Series

warnings: violence, tension, & sexual tension if you squint 🫣

summary: since the encounter with the stranger, you stay on edge while trying to heal your wound from the night before. but it seems as though the man you met the day before can help you?

word count: 2.7k

authors note: part two is here!! i’m so excited to continue this series :) i have so many ideas for it. lots of hcs. future chapters will have smut in it don’t worry, just need to build development first.

part one here

Back against your bed, bottom numb from sitting for so long, and hands shaking on your lap. You have been alert since your encounter with this Stranger. You anxiously have been waiting for their return, but it has yet to come in the past fourteen hours. Meaning you haven't slept a wink this whole night. Now, it being morning, your stomach ached for food while your left arm throbbed in pain.

Your arm was still unhealed. Frustration was an understatement on how you were feeling. To be able to use the force, but only for a short amount of time due to your lack of experience with it lately, made you angry to no end. Healing your arm with your force wasn’t an option. Although that didn’t stop you repeatedly trying every thirty minutes. But no matter what, your arm was injured.

You could feel your anger burning in your chest. Never could you run away from your past no matter how much you stomp your feet. Healing never brought you any comfort even though that is its purpose. Flashes of your memory play in your mind as you are in your most vulnerable state. You remember your brother, laid on his bed in the room you both grew up in. His clothes are ragged and dirty and his hands calloused while he has oil under his fingers. He’s tired. But there you are. Young and in your clean Jedi robes. You tower over him in the bed feeling the sting in your heart like he personally dipped his hand through your skin, to your muscles, through your ribs, and tightened his grip on your heart. Your young hand hovers over him, shaking, while your brother laid, unmoving. You begin to heal him.

But here you are, older, hurt inside, and wounded outside. Incapable of healing yourself. You inhale through your teeth and hold your breath in anger. Hot tears leave your eyes. You know if you let yourself let go with your feelings, you won't be able to stop.

You take that as a signal to get off your ass to get something to eat and after your meal, you’ll find some medicine in town.

After your quick snack, you start to walk towards your small chest where you keep your credits. Thirty. Thirty credits is all you have. You haven’t been able to find a suitable job since moving to Olega, so you’ve been living off of your savings. You start to wonder what Maker forsaken place will even accept thirty credits for something to heal you. But looking for a place that will, is the only option you have.

You march outside your home, ready to scout the area.

Five places rejected your offer. Five places let you down. Five times have you almost broke down in disappointment. This took a toll on you. You have gotten to the point where you shuffle your feet through the dirt covered streets slowly. Feeling your motivation start to fade out of you. Your feet stop. You’re in the middle of the street, hungry yet again and still in pain. You start to contemplate if you should turn around and make your way home. Although that thought brought you fear at the mere chance of this Stranger returning once more.

A loud crash echoes through the street to your right. Your attention shifts to the sound to see the man you saw the day before in these streets. This time, he seems more lively than before. That being because he speaks before you do this time.

“Hello!”

You accept this greeting by walking towards him while holding your left arm with your right hand. Now, you stand before him in front of his shop. But before he can speak again, you ask a question. “Do you know a place nearby that has a reasonable price for medicine? Not too expensive.. I uh-” You finish the sentence by moving your hand to reveal your burn. The man responds with an over exaggerated wince.

“Actually..” The man walks back into his store while finishing his sentence inside “I have just the thing.” making the rest of his statement sound muffled.

You shake your head in amusement, but also feel the weight off your shoulders leaving knowing your mission to find medicine is now over.

Walking inside, you see all sorts of items. Gadgets, antiques, even weapons. Him rummaging through his cabinets and drawers is all you heard. While also listening to his quiet mumbling. “Just a second… I just had this.. damn thing..” His voice is low and smooth. The rummaging stops as he holds what he was looking for. He starts to walk towards you and motions you to sit on the counter.

“Right now? Shouldn’t I pay you first?”

“You can pay me after.”

“But you didn't say how much this is!”

“How many credits do you have?”

“Only thirty-”

“Perfect!”

He walks more towards you, you walk backwards and clash with the counter. Your heart begins to thump against your ribcage, and your nervous shaky hands hold you up so you can sit on the counter. Like he told you to.

He starts to make his way closer to you, positioning himself in front of you. Making this the closest he's ever gotten to you. His hand reaches your left arm, but before he rests his hand on it, he looks at you for approval. You nod your head softly and he gently touches your arm. He then pulls down your tear to give your injury more access to the bacta spray. Then, he sprays the bacta onto your arm making you flinch from the instant feeling it gives.

It felt cold. The cold that hurts.

You begin to slightly pull away from the spray and it makes him hold onto your arm tighter, to hold it in place. “Just for a bit more, I'm almost done.”

You swallow your pain while the man looks at your expression. As the spray scans your burn, he scans you with his eyes. You can feel his gaze on you, and you close your eyes to distract yourself.

“Alright. That should be all good now.”

He sets the bacta spray on the counter but his hand still lingers on your arm. Realizing this, you open your eyes to check in on your arm. He lets go and scans your whole arm this time. His eyes set on your hand.

“Looks like you already got one of these, huh?”

You pull down your sleeve in embarrassment. As well as the fact you don't want to explain to a random person that you got the scar in your padawan days.

“Thank you, for this. You have no idea how close I was to giving up. Everything is so expensive these days.” You lift your bottom off the counter to stand up. Now, you are close to the man and feel intimidation while also having a hint of curiosity in him.

You put your hand out for him to shake, and introduce yourself. His hand meets yours and you immediately feel something. It feels as though holding his hand felt like you were on the edge of a cliff. You feel energized. Your heart thumps against your chest. You look up to him and he has a certain look on his face. It’s like the one you saw before in the street.

“I’m Qimir.”

—

The best plan you can muster out of your head is to scout your own home on your neighbors roof. From this view you’ll be able to see the Stranger come inside your house. That is if they decide to come again tonight.

So here you are. With your black robes to help your disguise. Even though there were no people around you, you felt a bit silly on how paranoid you looked. Although you shut those feelings down remembering you are fearing for your life. You felt like it was justified at least a little bit.

Time passed and you started to feel yourself grow less alert. You scouted the area less and less, and let your blinks last a bit longer than you should’ve.

Then suddenly, it feels like time froze. One second you're tiredly looking at your home, and the next you are lighting your lightsaber on instinct. The instinct being the Stranger attacking you from behind with their own lightsaber. Immediately you block their attack and your lightsabers illuminate a bright light on the rooftop. The lights reflect off their helmet giving you a better view of them on this dark night.

You lift off the ground to get ready for your stance, but you start to feel your knees shake before you out of fear.

“Your tolerance has weakened.”

You feel offended by this, even though it is entirely true. You launch yourself towards them and sway your lightsaber. The two of you match each other's blocks, and swift your wrists together. Once you get an ounce of a break from your physical conflict, you observe them. The way they are walking, the way they’re tilting their head at you, and the way their voice stays smooth like they aren’t even fighting you.

“I sense so much pain. Suffering.” They force pull you close to them and you position your saber in front of you, which helps you block their attack. Now, the two of your lightsabers are crashing together inches away from both of your faces, they finish their sentence– “Anger. You just don't know where to put it.”

Fire then left your throat turning into a scream. You know this will bring attention to your neighbors and people around you, but you don't care. You put all of your frustration into your force push causing a distance between you two. You know they are right. They’ve been winding you up with their antagonizing that it’s making your blood boil, and it's clearly giving you more power to the force than before.

You start to huff from exhaustion but know you need to stay on track. You want this all to end. The taunting and the fear. Enduring another minute of fighting with whoever this person is and them reading your thoughts is too much to bear.

The masked Stranger lunged towards you, and the two of you duel together. You move your lightsaber to attack, to only have them raise their arm to block it causing your lightsaber to give out.

The panic sets in. They take a big step forward and sway their saber towards you, but you move out of the way just in time. You start to back away, and look down to your saber. It’s flickering with purple shining in and out.

“It’s easier to let it out. I can help you.”

“Get out-” Your lightsaber lights back up on its own and you form your stance before your strike. “-of my head!” Your feet stomp towards the stranger and the two of you crash together again. A block here. A clash there.

There is a moment in your duel where they are able to grab ahold of your arm, and headbut into your saber. Causing it to give out once again. In this moment, it’s the first time they’ve touched you. But there is something about their hand on your arm that feels familiar. You're on the edge again. You feel as though you're looking over on a cliff, feeling the adrenaline. The shop. The medicine. Qimir.

Your eyes squint towards their helmet as though you can see through it. This causes them to push you away from them. You can feel the panic radiate off of them.

Again, your lightsaber lights but you have it lowered to the side of you. You have given up fighting at this moment because all you want is an answer. The answer being if this person before you is Qimir.

With heavy breaths you say “It’s you.. isn’t it?”

They dont answer, but only slowly take slow steps towards you. You feel like the fighting is over and you start to let your guard down. Although your saber stays on. Now, the Stranger is in front of you. Tilting their head. But then, they sway their legs under yours to sweep you off your feet.

Your back stings at the immediate pain of hitting the floor. The Stranger then strikes you, and all you see is red. Until you force block their attack and hold their lightsaber in place. The saber vibrates in front of you and they are temporarily frozen. You needed to take advantage of it. You kick your foot against their shin and they fall to the floor. This time, you know their helmet causes your lightsaber to short circuit. So, you turn yours off and use the hilt of your saber to strike their helmet. You hit it three times until it crashes to the floor.

You bring your feet into a crouch to stand up. They do the same. Both of you stand up together, in sync.

“You..” You faintly say, like a whisper.

His face is still and precise. The same face you saw before, but it looks like you're looking at a different person.

“You feel it too, don't you?” His voice isn’t modulated this time. If anything, it feels more intimidating than before. You stay silent and frozen. “Mm. You don’t have to answer that. I know you do.”

“You know nothing about me.” You spit back.

“Don't let your fear blind you to what you feel.”

You stare into his eyes in the hopes to read him like he's reading you, but all you get is nothing. His door is locked and you can jerk the knob all you want, but it just won't open. He takes a step to you, you take a step back. And this happens until your heel hits the back of the roof, near the edge.

“You’ve been what I needed all this time, as you need me.”

His words make you stumble and you start to lose balance, but before you can fall backwards. Qimir reaches towards your wrist and holds you in place mid fall. He is touching the same arm he previously did. This time, he brushed his thumb over your scar on your hand. It brings shivers down your spine and your hair stands up. He gently pulls you forward to set you standing straight again.

The commotion to both of your fighting has brought attention to your neighbors, and you can see bright lights coming your way. Qimir doesn’t look behind him but knows they're coming with his statement.

“What’s keeping you here? They’re gonna find you. Question you. Take you in. Once they find out your ex Jedi.. Well.” He shakes his head side to side while puffing air out. “I don’t think you want that.”

He makes a good point. The last thing you want to do is have the Jedi back into your life, and question you as to why you left the order. Making you relive the painful reason you left all over again.

“Or.. you join me.” Silence fills the air as the tension grows with his offer. He speaks again. “You figure out how to make peace with your past and join me as we both live a life where Jedi don’t make all the rules.”

The rules. The words brought anger inside you. Qimir senses it and smirks. He knows he's convincing you. Your door is starting to crack, and he's easing his way in.

“UP THERE!!” A loud voice yells from below your building and it gives you a signal you need to make a decision fast.

The thought of staying behind while you deal with the situation that will come to you full of dread and anger makes your face scrunch of how much you don't want to deal with it. Then the thought of joining Qimir, who senses your feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long. As much as he frustrated you, you felt a sense of relief in finally being able to be seen in that way. As negative as it was. But that's what drew you to him. He’s no Jedi, that's for sure. Because if he was one, he’d treat you like some maniac for having such strong feelings of hatred and anger. You sense familiarity in Qimir. In some ways, you feel like you're looking in a mirror.

A mirror you wanted to keep looking into.

You nod your head yes, and he smiles to himself. Ready for what's to come.

read part three here !

#qimir #qimir x reader #qimir the acolyte #star wars x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #manny jacinto #the acolyte

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