#Thaw Period | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaichaiiskai · 5 months

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NO PICKLE X MALE READER??? I GOT YOU.

pickle x prehistoric! shot male reader who's like his most precious s/o and overprotective during the prehistoric times and then now in the future. it can be fluff with a bit of angst.

almost the same height as baki or something.

notes: okay okay okay, I'm so sorry I'm late on this but I now have the brain capacity to write somethin' worth readin'...

yandere-ish! possessive! pickle x prehistoric! male! reader

warnings: violence, blood, body horror (not to reader), pickle is a lil' yandere ngl—, possessive and protective behavior, angst, kidnapoing, mention of smut but no explicit descriptions, male reader, amab reader, mxm, mlm, homophobes dni, mdni, 3.7k+ words (I went a lil' ham ngl)

Unexpectedly, the Jurassic research team had never expected to have a primitive man at their fingers, suspended in time and saline— not just one, but two. However, strangely enough, they both looked distinctively different, one was much taller and muscular than the other, causing the researchers to question the periods in time in which both had existed. That was quickly disproven despite this, seeing how the two of the men were encased in the very same saline rock, back to back as if they'd been frozen in time in the middle of protecting each other from an outside threat. On the outside looking in, it was quite poetic in a way, a clear display of humanity in its ideal form, hardened in resin. It was almost a shame that they would be carefully melting away the rock to get a better view of the two men encased in the saline.

The biggest theory amongst the researchers was that the two men could potentially be siblings, the taller one being the oldest brother while the younger was the shorter one; even if they didn't explicitly look alike. There was also the theory about them being father and son, there was no definitive answer— yet.

And so, with as much excitement as most scientists who were ready to discover something new, the thawing process had begun on the saline rock that held two great mysteries.

It took a bit of time for the researchers to thaw the rock with pure caution, wanting to keep the two beings intact as much as possible and so, they'd decided to thaw one side at a time— starting with the smaller man first. About two days later, they had managed to thaw him out completely and get him onto a gurney that surprisingly creaked and squeaked under his weight. They hooked the man up to monitors and machines, eager to see what exactly was going on with him, and to their shock— there was a faint heartbeat which required more close surveillance from them. The man looked almost as if he was stuck in a peaceful sleep, seemingly unable to wake up.

Half of the research team found themselves debating on whether or not they would apply modern technology to this man, wanting to reanimate him while the other focused on melting away the rest of the saline and getting a better look at the beast of a man while keeping the smaller man under surveillance.

And to their astonishment (and horror) the beast woke as they had managed to melt the saline away, stopping about halfway past his torso. One could only imagine the look of terror on the faces of the small, everyone was small compared to this creature, scientists as they stared up at him. He simply stared back, unmoving, but blinking, glancing around briefly at his confusing new surroundings that looked nothing like what he knew when he was younger.

Project Pickle was a success, but could the same be said about Project Cucumber?

Despite the looming and watchful eyes of the eight foot tall man who watched each and every one of them as they worked, the scientist continued to melt away the saline while Pickle remained still. Based on instinct alone, he did not sense any imminent danger, therefore, he saw none of the people in the room as immediate threats.

That did not last long, when he was completely free, he began to look around more, almost as if he was looking for something specific, tendrils of dark locks swinging as he looked rather perplexed. Then, he briefly sniffed the air, pupils dilating as his gaze zeroed in on the high security door that kept him tucked away in a metal box he didn't care to think about. And he began to walk towards the door, unknowing of what he was doing exactly, and stared at it, sniffing the air once again.

Surprisingly, the military personnel that worked as security on the premises didn't even bother to move, not even when the beast of a man snatched the door clean off it's securely bolted in to get a peek inside. He then crouched under the doorway to walk through it, almost like he was walking into a cave and made his way towards the gurney that held Cucumber's sleeping form. The scientist in the room all audibly gasped, shuddering in fear as he took some steps forward, standing at the foot of the gurney that still held your body.

The silence in the facility was deafening, even a single needle would be heard if it were to hit the cold tile floor.

And that's when Pickle moved, grabbing a hold of your calf to give it a squeeze that would have surely shattered the bones of a modern hero. Coincidentally, it had only caused your eyes to shoot open, a sound of anger coming from your mouth that was accustomed to a growl as you sat up, grabbing at the hand of the being who'd rudely woken you from your sleep. Only then when you were awake did Pickle loosen his grip and your eyes met for the first time in over hundreds of millions of years. The moment was wholesome to the two of you, but somewhat eerie to those looking on the outside in.

From then on, Pickle and Cucumber were given their own special area where they spent all their time together. There was one thing that was quite noticeable about the pair, Pickle did not like it when people got too close to Cucumber, often growling and baring his teeth at anyone who came too close. On the other hand, he would let the scientist get close to him so long as they kept their distance from you. Their interactions were simple enough, no words were exchanged but there was the occasional grunt and groan as they seemed to speak to each other in their own silent way. The original theories of the scientist believing that you were siblings was proving stronger and stronger with each day.

That— however, would soon change upon witnessing an... interaction between the two of you.

One late evening, the scientists were simply busying themselves with their research, not even paying much attention to the two men in their makeshift habitat. That was until the sound of growling, hissing, and other wild, animalistic noises coming from one of the monitors that was watching over the Projects. Curiously, the several scientists turned to look at the screen, mostly with mystified looks on their faces.

It looked like Pickle and Cucumber were battling, roughhousing in the dirt of the carefully constructed enclosure, biting and scratching at one another. Almost immediately, the scientists were ready to jump into action to find some way to subdue the two of them before something horrible happened and ruined their research, but nothing could have prepared them for what came next.

The winner of the wrestling match was Pickle, and he was eager to claim his prize. The scene that played out on the monitor was enough to make every single personnel who was watching blush like roses in a garden.

Welp, there goes their family theory... The last thing they had ever expected was that these two primitive men would be engaging in a romantic partnership, yet here they were— the sounds the two of them were making was proof. And surely, they should have all looked away, but they couldn't seem to look away, only doing so when the two men had both tired each other and decided to fall asleep, cuddling together as if they hadn't just violated each other in the most criminal and animalistic way. The two of them looked almost innocent in a way, Pickle easily dwarfed Cucumber in the spooning embrace but at least the two of them seemed comfortable.

From then on, the researchers that watched you both seemed to look at your interactions under a new light, noticing the romantic undertones with everything the two of you did together.

Pickle had a refusal to eat things that he did not actively hunt and seeing how there were no animals in the enclosure, he did not eat. And fortunately, considering the differences in biology, the primitive man was able to withstand being without food for a much longer period of time than what modern day people could do now.

A few weeks after being thawed from your saline sanctuaries, and constantly being observed by the weirdly skinny people with their weird furs, you were beginning to become more and more curious yourself. So much so that while Pickle was sleeping and one of the massive walls moved, your eyes immediately flew towards it and watched as one of the skinny people came into the room cautious and careful, holding something in their hands that seemed to be carrying other things. In interest, you stared at them, watching their every move, staying completely alert as they set the thing with things down and scurried away behind the moving wall.

Pickle was still slumbering deeply as you stared at the new thing in your enclosure before slowly approaching, sniffing around so that you could safely close the distance. As you got closer, familiar scents filled your nose and a sound of approval, similar to the sound of a chirp, was heard before you picked up a familiar fruit, peeling it off its skin and beginning to happily indulge in the fruity flavor. You sat beside the thing of things, the bowl of fruit, and happily ate the delicious treat, crossing your legs in a comfortable manner.

The eyes of your lover soon fluttered and he felt around on the ground, using his touch to try and find you, and when he is unable to, an angry growl is the only sound he makes before getting onto all fours, glancing around like a predator on a hunt. That was until he felt your presence and smelled you again, along with some strangely familiar scents and so he crawled in the direction of whether the scent was strongest.

If there was one thing to give credit on, it was the enclosure that the scientist has carefully constructed for the two of you looked like a forest, filled with trees and dirt and patches of grass, but there was an area where you often would relax— a clearing where the trees were a bit more sparse and the dirt was more abundant. That was also where Pickle and Cucumber were able to see the wall move and keep a close eye on the scientists and researchers who entered the enclosure.

The man crawled his way towards where he could smell where your scent was strongest and soon stumbled upon you hunched over, back facing him, and shoving things in your mouth, stuffing your cheeks with your newfound feast. Be that as it may, upon sensing Pickle's presence, you paused and in your squatting position, you shuffled your feet around, pivoting so that you could face Pickle. Soon enough, you flashed him a grin, mouth drenched in sweet juices as you beckoned him over with a hand.

He trusted you completely, but the same couldn't be said about what you were consuming, his eyes peeking between you and the fruit as he slowly crawled towards you. As soon as Pickle was within reach, you were quick to pluck one of the grapes from its stem and shove into his mouth, almost as if you were nonverbally saying 'try this!'

Caught off guard by the strange thing shoved in his mouth, he nearly spit it out but you quickly gave him a pleading look, puppy eyes causing his shoulders to slump, holding the grape in his mouth rather awkwardly. Huffing in frustration at him, you pointed a clawed nail towards your mouth and pretended to chew before pointing at Pickle, a look of concentration on your face as you nodded at him, hoping he'd get the message— he did.

At first, you couldn't tell how he'd felt about the grapes based on his facial expressions alone but that soon changed when his eyes widened, and then an approving sound followed.

"Hm!"

You couldn't agree more, grinning as you plucked a few more grapes, making a sound similar to a laugh when Pickle basically unhinged his jaw as you threw grapes in his mouth, one by one like a childish game.

This was another thing that the researchers had noticed, the two of you were easily amused by the simplest things, acting rather childishly despite both being full-grown adults. It was almost endearing in a way, watching the two of you, mostly you, feed each other fruits, enjoying yourselves with no active threats of danger in your lives. It was almost something to be jealous of... And that was when the researchers' curiosity seemed to spark, and perhaps an experiment would lead to some interesting results, as dangerous as they may be, but it would take an intricate amount of planning for every possible outcome.

Weeks pass.

At the exact same time every day, more bowls of fruit are brought for the two of you, the amount of fruit only seeming to double in sizes each and every time. The two of you actively seem to enjoy the fruit, the grapes being an especially popular fruit between the two of you. You were often feeding Pickle and yourself the fruit, happily enjoying them each and every time.

And just as usual, one of the skinny people brought in more bowls of fruit, with even more fruit than you could ever imagine. And naturally, you both dug right in, enjoying the sweet flavors wholeheartedly. That was until the world began to spin around you and Pickle, your vision growing spotty and blurred. Before either you or Pickle can register, your body's hit the ground and the last thing you see is Pickle attempting to crawl over you, wishing to protectively drape himself over your body but you lose consciousness before seeing if he's made it.

Much to the surprise of the researchers, the tranquilizers they'd injected into the fruit had finally worked! And now they could perform their experiment in peace— a great number of security personnel piled into the enclosure and grabbed a hold of your body, carrying you out of the enclosure and shutting the door behind themselves, carrying you to somewhere else within the facility.

The door was then properly amped up with the greatest technology the facility could offer, mostly looking to measure the strength of Pickle and his partnership with you.

When the next day came, Pickle awoke, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the enclosure he was entrapped in. He slowly sat up once his senses were back at their full use, though his body was still a bit drowsy and tiredly glanced around. Naturally, he was wondering where you were, causing him to click his teeth together in a particular way, calling out for you in his own special call.

And when he got no response, usually an excitable chirp, he got on all fours and began to crawl around the enclosure, sniffing and looking for where you could be hiding. Having been in the enclosure for so long, your scent was still lingering and he knew that you liked to play games— hiding from him, but with each passing second of him calling you and climbing up a few trees to find your usual hiding places, his panic was becoming more and more apparent. And before anyone could register the true terror of Pickle, the man stood on his two feet and roared at the fake sky, the power from it was enough to shake the entire enclosure.

The pure, unfiltered rage could be felt even through the security cameras currently being observed.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

Another growl followed before Pickle could be seen barreling towards the moving wall // enforced door with great speed and animosity, almost as if he knew that they were withholding his beloved from him. A line of personnel were on the other side of the door, prepared for what was to come next, and when he came in contact with the door, slamming his head into the metal, a noticeable dent from the outside was created but the door did not immediately give out. Another roar of anger came from him as reared back and began to repeatedly pound his fists into the door, dent after dent being put into the door that would not budge like the one he'd destroyed after waking up.

On the other side of the facility, you weren't doing any better, having woken up about an hour after Pickle, you were surprised to see the new enclosure, confused on where you were and most importantly— where Pickle was. Nothing smelt or felt familiar and you couldn't sense him. And unlike Pickle, you didn't immediately react with rage, instead, you reacted in a rather panicked way, climbing up the nearest tree for a better vantage point. When you saw no sight of Pickle, the anxiety began to set in, not even considering the possibility that he was still somewhat close by and that you'd been forcibly separated from him by the researchers who were still observing you both with keen eyes, notebooks and pens in hand.

They keep you separated for days, watching as Pickle's rage only grows and your anxiety seems to be eating away at you, almost deteriorating you at a rapid pace. Watching your differing reactions was proving to be even more interesting than they'd originally hypothesized. And while doing this experiment, the scientist had not revealed themselves to either primitive men, but about four days after the experiment started, one of the researchers had offered that they go back to sending in the bowls of fruit to see how they'd react.

Naturally, they chose to give you the fruit first.

And when the wall opened, your gaze immediately snapped up and you moved faster than they'd anticipated, hurriedly approaching the person with the bowl of fruit on all fours. The scientist is horrified at first, watching as you stare at him with pleading, puppy-like eyes. And then, you open your mouth before closing it, almost as if you were trying to say something but were hesitating.

Every scientist was on the edge of their seats, not expecting your reaction in the slightest.

Your mouth opens and closes a few more times before you finally speak, though the words are a bit broken, syllables are a bit hard to comprehend for you at the moment.

"Hmm...hm...hi—him." You move your hands above your head and begin to mess with the air, almost as if you were playing with long hair, obviously talking about Pickle.

"Wh...wha...wha...here..? Whe—whe...where?"

You did not get the reaction you wanted, watching as the scientist dropped the bowl of fruit and ran away, the wall shutting quickly behind him. As soon as the door fully closed, you lunged at it and slammed your fists onto it, broken words soon following as you pleaded, eyes beginning to water.

"Plee...plea— plea..? Please?!"

The sight of you whimpering and pounding your fists on the door is nearly enough to make the scientists sympathetic, watching as you crumble in on yourself, clearly suffering from some kind of abandonment issue. So much so that you were willing to speak their language to try and communicate. They wondered if you could learn more words and perhaps even sentences in the future. Perhaps they should have separated the two of you since the very beginning.

On the fifth day, Pickle had stopped pounding on the door, the amount of dents he'd left in the door was a concerning amount and the personnel had even grown fearful that he'd end up breaking through it soon, but they were fortunate that it seemed he'd given up. And instead, he simply sat down in front of the door, crossing his legs and his arms over his chest, waiting for the wall to open, almost as if he was expecting it.

It never opened.

Not that day.

Not the next day.

And not the next day.

The doors would open often for you, the scientists would bring you fruit and strange things while they spoke to you, trying to get you to talk to them again but your eyes were always wandering behind them, looking for Pickle in hopes of seeing him again. You do not remember the last time you'd been with him for such a long period of time, your anxiety seemed to build with each day.

"If you can just say one word— we'll bring you back to your mate, okay?"

The scientist said, waving their hands around as if that was going to help you understand what they were getting at. You simply furrowed your brows at them, trying to understand the weird noises they were saying to you. The language barrier was obvious.

As one would expect, the scientists were frustrated by the progress, trying to express to you their desires and what they wanted. They were getting nowhere.

Pickle had remained seated like a statue in front of the door, unmoving and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had to find you, and he wasn't going to let this strange thing stop him from doing so.

Though he may not be the smartest, he knew that his fists had worn down this strange stone wall and just a few more shoves would soon bend to his will. And so, suddenly, he stood up and got into a fighting position, bringing his fist back before shooting it forward at the speed of a bullet that breaks the sound barrier with a clap and the door goes flying, crushing the line of personnel on the other side against the nearest wall, turning them into mush.

He steps out, a blank, uninterested stare on his face. An alarm soon goes off at this, seeing how he'd just brutally murdered some of security, but that didn't stop Pickle from continuing to walk, eager to find where you are, wanting nothing more than to have you back safe in his arms. And if that means crushing the skulls of small people, he wouldn't mind, so long as he got back to you.

#— chai’s asks. !!#male reader #x male reader #— anonnie. !!#amab reader #baki hanma #baki the grappler #pickle baki #pickle x reader #pickle x you #pickle x y/n #pickle x male reader #mlm #mxm #yandere baki hanma pickle

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greenwitchcrafts · 4 months

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January 2024 Witch guide

Full Moon: January 25th

New moon: January 11th

Sabbats: None

January Wolf Moon

Known as: Bear Moon, Chaste Moon, Cold Moon, Disting Moon, Goose Moon, Moon of Little Winter, Moon of Strong Cold, Quiet Moon, Snow Moon, Stay at Home Moon, Sun Has Not Strength to Thaw Moon & When Snow Blows Like Spirits In The Wind Moon

Element: Air

Zodiac: Capricorn & Aquarius

Nature spirits: Brownies & Gnomes

Deities: Freya, Hera, Innana & Saraswati

Animals: Coyote & fox

Birds: Blue Jay & pheasant

Trees: Birch & Hazel

Herbs: Cones, holy thistle &marjoram

Flowers: Crocus & Snowdrop

Scents: Mimosa & musk

Stones: Chrysoprase, garnet, hematite, moonstone, onyx & jet

Colors: Black, blue-violet, grey, silver & white

Energy: Adventurous, ambitious, awareness, beauty, beginning & conceiving; business, career, conserving energy, energy below the surface, organization, political matters, potential, protection, recognition, reputation, reversing spells & spirituality

The name for the January full Moon is believed to have originated from Celtic and Old English roots, which European settlers then brought to the New World.

At one point, gray wolves were among the most widespread land mammals on our planet. According to the Wolf Conversation Center, gray wolves “inhabited most of the available land in the Northern Hemisphere.” Habitat destruction and persecution by humans have reduced their range by about a third worldwide and 90 percent in the lower 48 states.

The wolf’s adaptable nature to survive in a wide range of habitats and ability to prey on the largest mammals living in those regions made it widespread. Basically, if there are enough deer, moose, elk, caribou, bison, and musk ox, wolves can survive. Predation of domestic animals caused friction with European settlers and early Americans who aggressively hunted the wolves.

Werewolf myths can be found in ancient Greek and Roman societies, throughout European history and among some Native American tribes. In modern storytelling the transformation from man to wolf has been closely tied to the full Moon in films like “The Wolf Man” and “American Werewolf In London.”

Howl at the Moon means to waste energy pursuing something unattainable. It’s shorthand for doing something crazy. However, howling is hardly a waste of energy among wolf packs. And they aren’t howling at the Moon. The Moon just happens to be shining during times when wolves most often howl.

A wolf’s howl can be heard miles away. The vocalization helps wolves locate separated members and even communicate between packs marking their territories. One study recorded spontaneous howls and responses happen most often between 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.

The cry of wolves doesn’t play into the Sioux name for the January full Moon, which is known as “The Time When Wolves Run Together.” Wolves do plenty of running to defend territory that can stretch hundreds of square miles to find enough prey to support the pack.

Other Celebrations

• Hogmanay | January 1st: is the Scots word for the last day of the old year and is synonymous with the celebration of the New Year in the Scottish manner. It is normally followed by further celebration on the morning of New Year's Day (1 January) and, in some cases, 2 January—a Scottish bank holiday. In a few contexts, the word Hogmanay is used more loosely to describe the entire period consisting of the last few days of the old year and the first few days of the new year. For instance, not all events held under the banner of Edinburgh's Hogmanay take place on 31 December.

The origins of Hogmanay are unclear, but it may be derived from Norse and Gaelic observances of the winter solstice. Customs vary throughout Scotland and usually include gift-giving and visiting the homes of friends and neighbours, with particular attention given to the first-foot, the first guest of the new year.

• Compitalia/ Feast of Lades | January 3-5: was an annual festival in honor of the Lares Compitales, household deities of the crossroads, to whom sacrifices were offered at the places where two or more ways met.

Dionysius said that Servius Tullius founded the festival, which he describes as it was celebrated in his time. Dionysius relates that the sacrifices consisted of honey-cakes (Ancient Greek: πέλανοι) presented by the inhabitants of each house; and that the people who assisted as ministering servants at the festival were not free men, but slaves, because the Lares took pleasure in the service of slaves. He further adds that the Compitalia were celebrated a few days after the Saturnalia with great splendor, and that the slaves on this occasion had full liberty to do as they pleased.

During the celebration of the festival, each family placed the statue of the underworld goddess Mania at the door of their house. They also hung up at their doors figures of wool representing men and women, accompanying them with humble requests that the Lares and Mania would be contented with those figures, and spare the people of the house

Sources:

Farmersalmanac.com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

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covetyou · 4 months

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freeze-thaw

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: no outbreak, fluff, smut, fingering, playing in the snow, temperature play, Joel probs has super bad circulation, established relationship but it's their first Christmas together and reader has some relationship insecurites word count: 2.7k summary: With your holiday plans ruined when a freak snow storm blows through town, you spend the fesitve period holed up with your partner, Joel Miller, learning exactly how warm you can keep each other in the snow.

A/N: happy holidays and merry sunday @oogaboogasphincter, from your Pedrostories Secret Santa! I went mostly for a snow, with a sprinkling of established relationship, and a dash of doing cozy things. I don't think I've written any of these things before, so it was a learning experience! I used just about every synonym I know for the word cold too.

snowy dividers by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Your holiday plans had gone to shit the moment that first flurry fell from the sky. Icy roads, cancelled flights, and downed power lines - Texas infrastructure at its finest - had put a halt to your plans to head back north for the holiday. Joel's holiday plans didn't fair much better, and instead of your first Christmas together being spent apart, you were spending your first Christmas together, well, together.

Then, to make a bad thing worse, the power went out, leaving you stuck in the dark and the cold in your apartment, and together suddenly became very together.

It hadn't been the plan - you still felt so very shiny and new at this, at being with him, and the idea of spending such a significant holiday holed up with him terrified you more than the dark ever did. But still, Joel drove on treacherous roads to come pick you up at 3am, dragging you and the perishable food from your refrigerator back to his place for the holidays. He had a generator, and fuel, and enough space for both of you to be comfortable, he said.

You spent the first day keeping to yourself, tiptoeing around, not wanting to disturb him any more than you were. Then he'd caught you circling around the back of the sofa, so as to not disturb his view of the TV, and his deep laughter stopped you dead in your tracks.

A "the fuck are you doin'" later and your insecurities came tumbling out, quickly quashed by Joel as he made it very well known just how much he wanted you there. That night, it didn't take you long to learn how warm you could keep each other.

The second day was spent bundled together on the sofa, him between your legs or you between his.

On the third, you worked up such a sweat together that you'd walked around his house naked, never more grateful for the generator chugging away in the garage.

Eventually, domesticity took over, and you spent a day wrapped up in each other in different ways. Watching a movie, drinking hot coffee, cooking a meal.

You'd trailed behind Joel into the yard on his way to check the generator that same day, Joel wanting to check it was well fueled, and you wanting an excuse to be out of the house for five minutes.

You kick at the snow, enjoying it for a few moments before it inevitably seeps through your shoes and chills your toes. Reaching down, you fluff it through your fingers, throwing a little into the air just to watch it fall again - as if you hadn't seen enough falling snow this last week. Joel is watches you, his eyes burning into your back and a smile tugging at his lips.

"You get inside, I'll deal with all this."

You stick your tongue out at him, trudging further over the snow to spin in the middle of the yard with your arms flung wide. He's laughing along with you when you stop, disorientated and unsteady on your feet. Looking back to him you stop in your tracks, finally seeing the deep gouges that mar the otherwise pristine white crust covering the ground. Yours and Joel's boots, footprints in the snow. Something about it, your foot steps mingling there together for all to see, wretches open your chest and captivates you.

And so, drawn in as you were by the footprints, you write your initials in the snow. Yours first, and then his, joined together and underlined as fact. You hesitate to carve out a frozen heart - too fearful to freeze something so warm and new and growing in something as rigid and fragile as ice - and turn to Joel again, a smile spreading across your face as you gesture to the letters in the snow -

"Oof."

- and a snowball, aimed perfectly at the back of your head a moment ago collides directly with your face. You cough and splutter, briefly blinded by ice as you swipe your freezing fingers over your face, hearing the creak of Joel's boots on the snow as he approaches you with apologies and laughter spilling from his lips in equal measure.

You glower at him, snow undoubtedly caught in your eyebrows, hiding a laugh of your own.

"Get," he says, turning you by the shoulders and pushing lightly to get you back inside. "I'll handle out here, check on the generator. Get warmed up."

Inside, the warmth almost burns as you peel off your layers and check on the food still baking away in the oven. Holding your hands in front of it like it was an open flame, you warm your fingers and wait for Joel, who comes back a few minutes later, chilled to the bone, stomping the snow from his boots and shaking his head as he shudders with the cold.

"Generator's still lookin' good," he says, slapping his gloves down on the counter. He rubs his hands together, blowing on them in an attempt to warm them up faster. Four days now, and the power was still out thanks to a new downfall of snow overnight.

"Your turn to get warm then," you smile, bending down to peer into the oven. "Dinner won't be long now."

"Sounds great, darlin'."

The bitter bubble of air he brought in with him surrounds you as he pulls you into his arms, nuzzling his frosty nose into your hair, laughing with you as you twitch away from the cold.

You expect him to move to the stove, to warm his hands on the heat of the oven just as you did, but instead he draws his fingertips up your belly, pushing your sweater up. Cold fingers meet the soft warmth of your bare skin and you gasp, gripping his arm.

"Joel! Don't you dare."

It was karmic justice really, given the number of times you'd warmed your feet on him in the night recently. You couldn't help it if the man was like a radiator.

"Got old fingers, baby, cold gets to my bones quick. Lemme warm 'em up, I know just the place."

"Fine," you say, tensing and preparing for the incoming press of his icy hand to your belly.

It doesn't come. Instead he tucks his hand down the front of your leggings, dragging the cold with him and holding you tight with his other arm.

"Joel..."

"What? Friction gets 'em warmer quicker. You don't want me to lose 'em to frostbite, do you?" You can feel him smiling into your hair as you gasp at the cold press of his fingertips to the white heat between your legs.

"No. Wouldn't want you gettin' frostbite."

Joel hums into your hair, breathing you in, just as he starts to rub softly over your clit. The sensation makes your skin prickle, first with warmth, then with cold, then something deliciously inbetween.

A moment later he's already slipping them from you and you twist, raising your eyebrow at him and preparing to call him a tease, only to watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, slicking his cool digits up with his saliva. He's tucking them back into your leggings with a mocking raised eyebrow of his own, kissing the gasp from your lips as his fingers make cold, wet trails down your warm stomach again. They slip against your clit with ease now, but the wetness only exacerbates the chill of his fingers.

The layers of your panties and leggings can't warm up his hand fast enough, and even as he starts to rub gently at you, doing much more than just warming his fingers, you feel a shiver of cold run through you.

"Friction is b-bullshit," you stutter. "Your fingers are still cold as hell."

"Just think how I feel, they're my fingers."

"My heart bleeds for you, Joel," you retort, leaning your head back onto him.

"If it don't feel good, I can stop."

"... I never said anything about stopping," you sigh, closing your eyes and widening your stance a little so he can reach further down.

Joel doesn't need further prompting, his spit slicked fingers slipping through your folds to dip lower between your legs to swipe at your entrance. It seemed counterintuitive, putting something so cold somewhere so warm, but Joel's fingers sliding with ease through the wetness pooled between your legs was proof enough that it did something.

Small strokes become broader, his cold fingers swiping up and down the seam of you as if to prove friction was all he was after. The heat from your core soon begins to warm his fingers, pulling warmth back into his bones and easing the ache in them with each passing moment. Still, it's slow going, and your arousal seems to grow exponentially quicker than the warmth in his fingers.

When they finally feel warmer, and your soft sighs turn to deeper moans, you arch your back, winding your hips along with the movement of his fingers. The cold was no match for how hot you were starting to feel. You would burn the cold right out of him before he was through.

"Joel-"

You gasp again when he slides a single cool finger down and presses it slowly inside of you. His fingertips may have been warmed by friction, but the length of his digits had not, and they still felt icy cold, making you clench and grip around him. Still, no amount of clenching can hide the wetness dripping out of you as he slides in with ease, slicking his finger up before pushing in with a second. He fucks you with them slowly, restricted by the fabric of your leggings, before pulling your arching back flush to his body. A second later his fingers still inside you, anchoring you down just as his palm presses flat against your mound. Warming you up and then cooling you down again over and over was making your head spin, and while you shudder and shiver in his arms, you know it's not the cold that does it this time.

"How are your hands still so cold," you pant.

"Bad circulation, darlin'," he whispers, and you feel yourself grow wetter still at the low gravelly sound of his voice.

"Should get that seen to."

"Good job I got you in the meantime."

The slow curl of his fingers isn't enough, and you find yourself rocking into his frigid palm, eager for the friction to return to your clit now that his fingers are buried deep inside you.

"Grind on it, darlin', that's it. Warm me up."

He rubs the heel of his palm against your clit in sync with your movements, and before you know it you're holding back twitches and biting your lips to stop moans from spilling too loudly out of you.

"You're gonna make me come, Joel."

"Just warmin' my hands, nothin' else."

You can hear the smile in his voice and feel it against your neck as he nuzzles his cold nose into your cheek.

"I know your game, Miller," you say, before groaning once again, pressing back against him with each rock of your hips, feeling the rapid swelling of his cock against your lower back. It seemed you were warming him in more ways than one as his fingers curled inside you, pushing and dragging against that spongy spot on your front wall that he never failed to find.

"Pussy's like a damn furnace. Who needs the generator, when we got this."

His palm is still cold, but you're starting to sweat, feeling the prickle of it across your scalp as you move, panting into the warm air of Joel's home. He could hold you like this forever, be buried in you like this forever as the world outside turned to ice, and you wouldn't mind.

But you're made painfully aware that this can't last forever as you feel yourself getting closer, pressure building inside you with each buck of your hips.

"Joel."

It's dizzying - his slowly warming palm and fingers, now red hot inside of you as they press and press and press at you in a way that would normally have you boneless if you were lying on his bed. But, standing here in the kitchen, you lock out your knees and hold on, white knuckle gripping the counter with your own still cold hands.

A shudder hits you when his cold face nudges yours again, and you turn your head to meet his lips in a kiss. He pulls the warmth from you there too, his cold nose nudging at yours. Even through your panties and the restricted movement of his hand, you can hear how wet you are, sloshing beneath his palm as you let out a keening moan straight into his mouth.

"S'okay. I got you."

He coaxes it out of you, you can feel it coming, his fingers picking up the pace, making the nudge of his palm just right, for just long enough, to send you skyrocketing in his arms.

It's white hot, sending a shiver down your spine as an orgasm ripples through you, twinkling behind your eyelids before exploding in your core, a muted breathy scream pulling from you with each gasping breath that leaves your mouth. You're falling apart as he holds you together, coming on his fingers and beneath his palm as he grinds it into every rock of your hips. Well practiced hands stop just as you're hitting a point of oversensitivity, cupping and holding onto you gently as you go as limp as you can in his arms, knees locked to keep you upright.

He swallows down each of your moans greedily, until you're left breathing heavy, forehead pressed to his. You feel half asleep, even standing on two feet.

"S'your turn," you mumble, only to be dissmissed by Joel with a promise of "later". You're grateful for it, feeling too sleepy to function all of a sudden, until Joel's voice rumbles through you once more.

"I'd say you make a great handwarmer, darlin'."

Laughter spills out of you, warm and bright, the heat in your cheeks warming his nose as he nuzzles against you once again.

"Only one problem," he murmurs, the cottonwool slowly clearing from your head.

"Mm?"

"Got two hands."

His other hand is still cold, he knows it is, but that doesn't stop him from snaking it up your waist, under your sweater and tickling at your bare stomach. You crumple in on yourself, legs that had held you through orgasm buckling as you twitch and laugh into him, smacking your fists into his sturdy chest.

"Stop, stop! You ass- asshole! J-Joel! Stop it!"

He lets you taste the laugh on his lips, kissing you once more as his cold hand rests against your bare skin.

"C'mon, let's eat."

You end that day as it started, wrapped up together, oblivious to the world outside and warmer than you had any right to be in a snow storm.

By the fifth day, the storm has passed, and by the sixth the power is back on, just in time for the big day. You both barely notice, staying wrapped up and warm together over the holiday.

You return to your apartment in the New Year and, even though the power has been back on for days and the heat has been pumping steadily, the place has never felt so cold.

In the years to come, you'd ask Joel about that week - the first of a New Year, and the first without you after having you around for so long. He'd tell you how cold it felt, how empty his house was without you in it. And when you turn up on his doorstep at the end of that first week, sniffling and crying and telling him you missed him, he'll crumple, telling you he felt exactly the same before drawing you into his arms and pulling you inside.

And then, eventually, in a home that was his and is now yours, you'll be sat in warmth and sunshine - as unexpected to the you of back then as a snowball to the face - watching your combined families meet for a Christmas not turned on its head by a Texan snow storm.

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#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics

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stargirlfics · 1 year

Text

Misbehavior

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: It’s the first and last time you ever talk back to his face

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post-outbreak, Joel and Ellie are settled in Jackson, established relationship, brat tamer!Joel vibes, smut: rough sex, unprotected vaginal sex, orgasm denial, hair pulling, spanking mentions, dirty talk

Word Count: 3.1k

Cannot stop thinking about Joel’s sick little smirk here! I want him to put me in my place so bad, hope you enjoy this one!

It’s the way Joel Miller looks riding his horse, a hunting knife on his hip and a rifle held expertly along with the reigns in his broad hands that makes your skin prickle and your breathing deepen.

Spring is still yet thawing the cold woods ahead of you but you only feel heat staring at his sturdy shoulders, sturdy everything actually, that you knew to be a fact, smiling to yourself about it as your own horse trailed closeby just a few feet behind him.

Being paired with him and being with him period felt right, natural, like somehow this was always where you were meant to be in this life.

You trusted each other now, able to move in silence like this, with his steady and well adjusted trigger finger and your sharp eyes, pointing out tracks, watching for signs of life, listening for infected or raiders, the two of you undoubtedly working well together.

In fact everyone in Jackson said so, especially Ellie, but if any of them knew just how much of a brat you’d been to him in the beginning they’d be surprised you were together at all.

It’s not that you and him got off on the wrong foot, but keeping him just on the edge of aggravated kept you at a safe distance away from acting on your distracted, midday, late night thoughts about him.

He was wary of strangers anyways and back then you were unknown to each other and gaining trust had taken time but eventually you stopped keeping each other at arm's length.

Started seeing each other around the stables more often, or rather you saw Ellie there and quickly learned that wherever she was, Joel wasn’t too far behind.

You remembered showing her the way around the barn, where supplies were kept in case she ever needed anything, noticing her interest in the animals, encouraging it, indulging in her never ending questions because you only wanted to see her smile.

In retrospect you think that’s why Joel tolerated your game of push and pull, why he warmed up to you in the end, because you were someone his kiddo approved of.

Funny how things could change, how a relationship could form in between quiet glances and soft smiles, weathered walls falling at the brush of his hand against yours and that smooth drawl saying your name as if it were sacred.

That was then and this was now, patrolling the perimeters together in the moonlight.

A soft toned whistle that loosened from his lips caught your attention, spine straightening at the signal that was just for you and him.

“Hm?” came your distracted hum, huffed in response while you picked up speed so your horses were walking almost side by side then.

“I heard you went out on patrol completely on your own the other night, yeah? While knowin raiders have been close, ain’t that right? So I’m only going to say this once…start explaining.”

His voice is clipped, a quiet, contained anger in them reminding you of his sharper edges, the ones you’d only caught glimpses of, heard whispers of, that visceral part of him that only raged to protect the people he loved most.

Joel would never hurt you, if you were certain of anything it was that, but there were times where you wanted to feel even just a fraction of his wrathful touch, to be reminded of what he’s capable of, knowing he could make it hurt in the best way.

It’s the thought along with the shiver rolling through your limbs that makes your pace falter, as you scramble for words and then for air next when all you were met with was dark eyes cutting a pointed glance your way.

“Fuck…ok yes, I did but it was only because there was already a group of us nearby, it felt safe. They sent someone back to get a message to me that they found tracks, a stag, just needed my help finding him. Then one of Tommy’s guys escorted me back, it was fine.”

“Doesn’t mean you should have gone on your own, I don’t give a damn how safe it was.”

“Hey! I’ve been hunting and going on patrols by myself long before you showed up,” you shot back at his harsh retort, suddenly feeling defensive. “I know these woods like the back of my hand, I could be blindfolded and still come back with more game than you, old man.”

He scoffed at your insult, another heavy glare coming right after.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, darlin. Just wish you would have told me is all I’m sayin.”

There’s weight in his words, a deeper meaning you pick up immediately and you know he’s right and there’s no denying that you’d be chewing him out ten times worse if he’d done the same, the risk of losing each other an easy nerve to strike after all that’s happened.

A beat of silence punctates the air before you’re speaking again, tone much softer, apologetic.

“I hear you. I should have at least told you and I’m sorry I didn’t, I wasn't really thinking in the moment. Thank you, by the way, for caring about me enough to say something.”

You hoped he could hear the guilt laced in your words, and the gratefulness of them too, still getting used to someone so wired to protect which never failed to make your heart flip. Nobody told you it could feel like this.

“S’alright, of course I care. I don’t wanna downplay how skilled you are either, I just hate thinking of something happenin and not being there you know.”

That had you smiling a little, pulse fluttering at the reminder of your feelings for each other, the gravity behind what he was saying.

Gently you let your leg nudge his, both your horses slowing as you came to the edge of the perimeter you were watching.

“I promise it won’t happen again.”

The softening edge of Joel’s eyes were visible now as he looked at you, giving you a firm but approving nod.

Silence settles between you again, only lighter this time with feelings eased and things smoothed over though for you, there was a leftover kind of excitement stirring in your tummy.

Your ears were still ringing with the gruffness of his voice, an antsy energy in your limbs at how stern he had been. Heated distraction lodged itself front and center in your mind, thoughts of Joel handling you just as harshly as his glares had been making you squirm in your saddle.

A low chuckle interrupts the tiny sparks of a dirty daydream you didn’t even realize you’d fallen into until now.

“What’s so funny?” you feign innocence.

“Nothin, just think it’s cute when you get that look on your face, only happens when you’re hungry…or when you wanna be fucked.”

Again, you were left scrambling for words for the second time tonight, heart hammering in your chest at the way the last few words slid from his lips, dripping with some unspoken invitation.

“I-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Disagreeing is pointless when you know he can see it written across your face but you refute anyways, adding a bit of attitude to your tone.

Joel huffs another laugh, clicking his tongue while he encouraged his horse to move again, back in the direction you’d come.

“Hm, you were so ready to agree with me just a minute ago, now you’re back to sassin me?”

“Maybe I am. What’s so wrong about that?” you shrug and roll your eyes for good measure.

He was opening up all the right doors and you were almost too eager to walk through them, craving the part of Joel you knew could get mean.

“I’m really gonna have to do something about that mouth of yours, huh,” he sighed, amusement curling around the edges of his lips.

Butterflies danced in your core as you smirked back at him, finding your footing quick, “Oh I should hope so, I’ll be waiting.”

It’s what you leave him with as you surge forward, not straying too far from his line of sight, but enough so that he has some distance to cover.

Joel gives you a few seconds, lets you think you’re gaining some kind of upper hand before he sets out after you, a tick in his jaw and a hungry itch in his hands.

–

It’s only a day later that you realize how screwed you are, facing down the stark reality of this little game you started.

He had cornered you, finding you in the hall leading to his bedroom, a dark glint in his eyes when he tells you it’s an empty house tonight, just you, him and unfinished business.

The tip of his boot moves to give your heel a light tap then, prompting you to move.

“Want you in bed, sweetheart. Now.”

There’s a suspended moment before you’re sealing your fate, pushing the pendulum fully in his direction.

“I don’t really feel like listening to you though, so I guess you’ll just have to make me…if you can even handle it,” you tip your chin up, trying not to be intimidated by the way he’s crowding your space.

Your skin tingles, never having talked back to him so flat out before.

Then you realize he’s already got you where he wants, strong hands snaking around your middle until he’s got one on your hip and the other reaching for a fistful of your hair, gripping firmly before he’s moving you forward, pushing you through the doorway.

A sharp gasp bubbles up from your chest and he’s laughing darkly.

There’s no use in resisting or struggling but you do anyway, finding a thrill in how easy it is for him to keep you locked in his grip, liking the aggressive pinch of his fingers as he moves your limbs for you, bringing you over to the bed, forcing you to bend over it.

Shaky hands reach for purchase against the sheets as Joel slides his palms over your ass, humming to himself.

“I keep thinkin bout spanking this pretty ass of yours raw but you’d probably enjoy that too much wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is whine, too worked up to think of anything witty to say which is probably for the best.

No time was wasted, nothing held back, no teasing to be had, the two of you desperate now, needy.

The heated skin of your thighs meets cool air as Joel strips you down, yanking at your clothes carelessly, so what if the fabric tears in his hands, he just needs you bare and underneath him already.

You work on your top half, wriggling out of your t-shirt, tossing your bra to the floor, moonlight setting the brown of your skin aglow; Joel would have called you an angel if he didn’t know just how wicked your sweet self could really be.

It’s not long before your cheek is pressed to the bed, hips high in the air, the dripping mess that you are on display as he fits himself behind you.

He grins, undoing the buckle of his belt with one hand while the other braces against your hip, pressing down, deepening the arch in your back.

Fuck.

The arousal swirls achingly across your body, thighs clenching as you watch, his worn flannel falling the ground next to your jeans, your eyes feasting on the expanse of his shoulders, down over his chest, down to where he was drawing himself out, already stiff, flushed and aching to be buried deep.

“Remember how to tell me if you wanna stop?” His question is one you’re expecting, nodding with a soft whine when he moves to grind his cock against where you’re wet and eager, your hand reaching back to tap a sequence against his skin.

He seemed to approve of your demonstration, his free hand coating the rest of his length in your slick with a few dirty strokes of his fist before pressing against you, the tip catching and your walls yielding, letting him sink inside.

“Oh..Joel!” your moan is strained, punctuated with a gasp as you stretch around him, tenderly accomodating to his size.

There isn’t much time to adjust before he’s rolling his hips and pulling back, pushing an exhale from your lungs when he thrusts back in, nudging deep.

“Goddamnit, sweetheart. Look at you.”

There’s so much reverence in his voice, big brown eyes sparking wide with pleasure, so much so you think he just might have forgotten about your earlier insolence.

But then he’s pulling his hips back and snapping them forward roughly, setting a steady pace that has you panting and crying out, peering over your shoulder at him as he starts to pound into you.

It’s a sight that makes you clench around him, your ass bouncing back against his hips, the muscles in his forearms, his biceps, tensing from the effort.

You feel your mind going hazy but a sharp smack to your thigh catches your attention and you realize there’s nowhere for you to run as Joel curves over you.

“Uh uh, it’s not gonna be that easy. You wanted to be a brat so bad, now I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

The hand that had been on your hip smoothes up your back, gripping the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before letting his full weight drive his hips down hard.

Your teeth bite at his covers, loud pleas and moans barely muffled as he finds that spot, the one that always makes tears well in your eyes.

Joel relishes in how your body trembles when he keeps himself angled there, watching you choke out apologies and pleas for more all in the same breath, his handprints bound to leave bruises on your skin from the way he’s holding you.

He knows you’re already sensitive, and your body already spent from keeping yourself upright through his thrusts, ones that still weren’t faltering, but he also knew you liked that it hurt so good too.

“Joel, please I’m gonna-” you begin to sob, feeling the pressure in your core deepen only for it to dissipate as you’re eased off his length a minute later.

You let your body sink, collapsing onto your tummy with a defeated cry, turning around to face the man who so rudely denied you an orgasm, whatever valid reasonings he had be damned.

Stepping out of his boots and jeans fully now, you open up to him completely, no longer shy about wanting this so bad, encouraged by how much he seemed to be having fun too, more arousal dripping from your swollen folds at the intensity, the security in knowing he’d take care of you.

You’d pissed him off with all your sass but you knew he’d never push you past your limits and it’s why you give in so easily now.

Coherent thoughts fade from your head when Joel finally pulls you down towards the edge of the bed by your ankles and moves between your legs to guide himself back inside you easily, rough hands shoving your thighs back towards your chest so he can split you open and watch as he does.

Any sense of time or day melts away, your only focus being Joel, only able to feel him, what he’s doing to you, whimpering out curses and moans as he bounces you on his cock, thick fingers reaching down to find your clit.

The bliss and the pressure build again, making everything hazy once more, eyes fluttering with each thrust now cause you’re too fucked out to concentrate on anything but how good he feels.

But Joel is watching, studying the pretty faces and sounds you make, one of his hands quick to find its way into your hair again, grabbing a fistful and pulling firmly and slowly, tilting your head up so you can’t do anything but look at him.

“No, no you focus, right here. Right here, darlin.” he grits out and clinging to his forearms is all you can do to keep yourself steady.

His other hand leaves your clit to grip at your jaw for a moment, strong legs spearing his hips into you over and over all the while, the wet gush of your pussy taking everything he gives you makes heat settle in your cheeks and spread across your chest.

Wrecked moans are swallowed by messy kisses, the prickly stubble of his beard against your neck driving you crazy.

Everything about him makes you clench, your thighs threatening to tighten around his waist the more he gives you.

But you wanted him to be mean and he hadn’t forgotten, delivering a few searing smacks across your inner thighs, a warning that told you to be good and keep them spread.

“That’s it, now she’s learning ain’t she. Just needed me to fuck those disrespectful thoughts out of your head, huh.”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes! Need it so bad!” your wanton cries make his teeth clench while your toes point and curl.

Everything in you burns molten, succumbing to Joel’s coarser treatment, his fingers, his lips, his cock knowing all your sensitive points and playing to them expertly.

There’s no reprieve, no break in how soundly he fucks you, the bedframe creaking noisily from the movement, both of you sweaty and breathless but loathe to stop, so much desire washing over you at the frenzied passion in the eyes of the only man that could touch you like this.

It was everything you had been daydreaming and craving, sobbing into your palm by the time Joel finally let you have what you wanted.

You came hard, the pleasure drawn out for so long the climax of it shattered you, leaving you feeling soft and weightless against the mattress as he chases his own release, finding it swiftly after you.

It’s much later that you’re tucked against him, a dreamy and well satisfied tilt to your lips as you sink into his touch, those deadly, brilliant hands of his caressing soft circles into your skin, against the places he knows he gripped with force tonight.

He checks in with you now and then, making sure the comedown doesn’t hit you too hard, only soft words and praise for you now, a few sweet kisses left along your shoulder as you drift in and out of sleep together, exhausted and content beyond words.

In the quiet of his room you giggle that you swear you’ll never be such a brat to him again but even you can’t deny that if this was what the consequences were, you just might have to talk back to him more often.

Joel knows it too, gleaming eyes narrowing as he warns that your wicked little mouth is next in line for a lesson if you so dared.

Oh..well maybe you’d be catching an attitude again much sooner than you thought.

---

A/N: Eeep it is here! This one took me some time to write just cause I feel like I get in my head about writing Joel correctly a lot of the time and with this including rougher sex it was a little bit of a struggle to write at times but I like how it turned out in the end and I hope this was steamy and fun and hot and that it feels real to the character too! Thank you so much for reading!

Let me know what you think, pls thirst with me!

some tags, no pressure! @eupheme @wyn-n-tonic @ozarkthedog @moreofem @fagen @black-fairy3 @persona-enthusiast @fluffyprettykitty @earlgreychiffon @tarrenterror25 @federalchickensoup @jolly-polly @inklore @babiiface95 @targaryenvampireslayer @chezamanda @simplykenni @allaboardthereadingrailroad

#amalia writes #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x black reader #joel miller x woc #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you

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frozenlight-gvf · 1 year

Text

It's a Scream, Baby

summary: (dom!jake x fem!reader) it’s the night before Halloween, and your boyfriend Jake takes inspiration from your favorite scary movie to fulfill a twisted fantasy of yours

word count: 5.8k

warnings: 18+ minors DNI— language, brief talk of murder/killing, masks (obvi), oral sex (m-receiving), bondage (handcuffs), blindfolding, overstimulation, fingering (f-receiving), penetration (f-receiving), period sex and blood kink... starts super fluffy then dissolves into filthy madness and then gets fluffy again

a/n: this resulted from marathoning the scream franchise, having impure thoughts about jacob, and all the blood talk on this hellsite... so enjoy this disgusting smut (also pls listen to gus black’s cover of “don’t fear the reaper”)

***

The scent of cinnamon swirled through the air, the essential oil diffuser working diligently to infuse every surface in the house with the cozy spice. Cold rain from a late-night October thunderstorm pattered on the windows. The sky outside was black and plastered with turbulent clouds, but you had never felt more at peace: wearing your favorite Halloween pajamas, you stood on a step ladder hanging up orange and purple fairy lights, casting your face in a colorful, festive glow. Even the screams coming from the shitty horror movie that you had on while you worked couldn't pull you out of your contentment.

The last of the lights had been hung, and you stepped down from the short ladder to admire your work. The living room was now softly illuminated by the stringed lights, the diffuser, and the jack-o-lantern you had carved-- the electric tea light inside flickered warmly; it couldn't replace a real flame, but you couldn't risk burning down the apartment you just started renting with your boyfriend. Not yet, at least.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and placed them on your hips. Then, you grabbed the remote that had been haphazardly thrown on the couch, putting a definitive, long overdue stop to the recently-released movie that everyone told you you simply had to watch, that it was the scariest thing they'd ever seen. You had given it an honest try, but once again, your theory that horror peaked pre-2000’s had once again rang true.

Your slippers-- which were covered in cartoon bats, matching the little ghosts on your soft, orange pants-- shuffled on the worn wood floor as you ambled towards the dark kitchen.

You opted not to flip on the lights, enjoying the lingering light leaking in from the living room. The digitized red numbers on the stove read 10:28. You were going to wait until you had company before you started the movie you really wanted to watch, but it seemed that he wasn't going to be home anytime soon.

The spark on the stove ignited a small woosh of flame, your unfocused eyes contemplating the tendrils that curled and licked at the chilled air. You hugged your jacket tighter to your body, trying to thaw the frost from your bones as you scrounged the cabinets for the Jiffy Pop you had bought specifically for tonight.

As you set the pan on the heat, the kernels rattled in their tin foil cage, slowly bursting one by one.

Just like the movie. You smiled, taking comfort in pretending to be in that world even for just a moment.

Suddenly, too much like the movie.

You jumped as the landline rang, rattling against the wall.

Rationally, you had a good chance that there wouldn't be a serial killer on the other end, but after all, Casey Becker had thought the same thing. You felt your heart beat quicker, blood surging through your veins. Scenes of Casey's losing battle with Ghostface flashed through your mind, picturing yourself instead of her with the knife buried in your chest.

Shaking your head, embarrassed at your shaking fingers, you answered timidly, "H-hello?"

"What's your favorite scary movie, pretty girl?"

"Jesus, Jake," you exhaled into the phone, clutching your chest, the voice of your boyfriend bringing you immediate comfort. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Hm, never heard of that one. What's it about?"

"You're hilarious," you said dryly, trying to hide the smile in your voice.

"So..." Jake started, doing his best to mimic Ghostface's rasp over the phone, "You gotta boyfriend?"

"I do, actually, his name is Jake. He's strong and he's handsome and he plays guitar in a famous rock band."

"He sounds perfect."

"He is, except he's not here right now, so I'm all alone and vulnerable," you said, coating the words with theatrical drama, but letting some disappointment slip in under it all. "I might even forget to check if the door is locked."

"Oh, no, well that's not good," he teased, picking up on your bit.

"I hope he comes home soon and saves me before I'm brutally murdered."

His studio session with the band had run really late, leaving you alone on the night before your favorite holiday. It stung, but you kept reminding yourself that it wasn't Jake's fault. And besides, the joy that decorating for Halloween brought you was enough to keep you entertained.

"I'll be home soon, darling. I promise I'll make it up to you," he paused. "Save me some popcorn."

"No promises, angel," you said, shuffling the the aluminum pan, the foil tent gradually rising. "Drive safe, please. Love you."

"Love you most."

You hung up the phone, flicking off the fire when your popcorn was done, slightly mourning its comforting warmth. You settled on the couch, cocooning yourself in a thick blanket, as you cycled through your purchased movies and selected Scream.

***

It was about midnight when you heard keys jangling at the door, briefly startling you as Sidney Prescott finished off Billy Loomis with a shot between the eyes. "Not in my movie," you moved your mouth to quote with her. You heard Jake sigh and set his bags down heavily in the hallway, guitar case clunking against the floor.

He called miserably from the entryway, "Hey, pretty girl, I'm so sorry I'm late, the session was-"

"Don't worry about it," you said, tossing the blanket off of you to stand up and meet him. You pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. The tip of his nose was slightly pink and cold from the chilly October air. "I'm just glad you're here now."

"I know, but it's your favorite holiday," he whined, rubbing his hands up and down your covered arms.

You glanced back at the stove clock in the kitchen. 12:14 AM. "Well, now it is," you smiled weakly.

He hummed, looking down at you. "Happy Halloween, darling." He wrapped his hands around your waist, kissing you deeply as you felt any ire you held up against him melt away into nothing, leaving only fondness. "Mmm," he said, licking his lips once he pulled away, tasting the remnants of the salt from your snack. "Did you save any for me?"

"Nope," you said plainly, biting your bottom lip to hold back a grin. "But feel free to kiss me again if you'd like another taste."

Jake's second kiss was deeper, hungrier. He walked you backwards against the couch as his tongue swiped over your lips, trying to taste more of you. You happily granted him entry, letting him lick into your mouth, the pair of you breathing heavily. His cold fingers brushed the soft hair at the nape of your neck, holding you firmly against him, the sensation causing a tingle to run down your spine. Warmth was blooming in your stomach, and you felt yourself growing damp between your legs as he pushed his knee into those sensitive parts.

"Over the phone," he started, talking against your lips.

"Mhm?" you prompted, pecking him.

"I promised I'd make it up to you."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I've got a surprise," he said, kissing you again. "Wait right here."

He disappeared out of sight to the entryway where he had dropped his bags. The absence of him left you shivering. You stood-- slightly breathless-- exactly where he left you, leaning your hips back on the couch, anxious to see what Jake had up his sleeve.

After some rustling, Jake reappeared a few seconds later with an evil little smirk, holding something behind his back.

"What's this?" you giggled, genuinely curious about his behavior.

He coyly quirked an eyebrow. "Close your eyes."

You gave him a questioning look, but he smiled and rolled his eyes a bit, silently asking you to humor him. You sighed and closed your eyes.

"Jake, what is this?" Slightly exasperated, you wished he would just forgo all the games and fuck you.

After a few seconds, Jake spoke, his voice dripping with desire.

"It's a scream, baby."

You opened your eyes to Ghostface standing only a couple feet from you. A gasp shot out of you as you flinched backwards-- completely on instinct. But the fear that coursed through you soon dissolved into pure adrenaline once you cognized that it was Jake under the mask.

"Jake," you breathed, already starting to squirm, "are we finally doing this?"

You could hear him starting to breathe heavily under the mask. With tingling fingers, you reached for the buttons on his navy shirt— he had already done most of the work for you by wearing it sluttily half-open despite the fall weather. You licked your lips, hypnotized by the rise and fall of his smooth, defined chest.

“You wanna play psycho killer?” you quoted, the sound coming low and sultry from your chest. You slid each little pearlescent button from their respective holes on his shirt teasingly slow.

Jake nodded, the distorted white face moving up and down slowly.

You leaned in close to his ear once you had his shirt completely undone. “Can I play the helpless victim?”

Jake nodded once more, sealing your fate.

Arousal flooded your body as he slid off the slouchy zip-up hoodie you had hanging on your shoulders, revealing the dark spots of your hardening nipples under your white tank top. A barely-audibly groan came from under the mask, the rubber and fabric muffling any noise Jake made.

His sly fingers toyed at the sensitive skin right below the waistband of your fleece pants, making you pay for the teasing you had dished out to him earlier. You pushed Jake’s shirt all the way off of him, leaving his torso bare. The orange light in the room cast his skin in a warm, sensual glow. You hummed a sigh, beyond pleased at the situation you found yourself in.

“Living room or bedroom?” you whispered, running your hands up his body, resting them on his chest.

You had yet to christen-- so to speak-- the living room of the new apartment, so a sliver of you was hoping he would take you right there on the couch surrounded by all the festive decorations, but when he nodded his head back towards the bedroom, you knew he had something devilish planned.

Suddenly, he reached down to grab your thighs, scooping you up so your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. He was always deceptively strong, making you feel like putty in his arms. You rested your hands around his neck, feeling where the ends of his soft brown hair emerged from the edge of the mask. In this new position, the urge to have his warm lips on yours again grew overwhelming, so you started to lift his mask up from the front, eager to see his pretty face.

Jake quickly slid one hand from his firm hold on your ass and grabbed your wrist roughly, stopping you in your tracks and pulling a surprised whine from your throat. He shook his head slowly, the grotesque face silently chastising you. You felt your core clench against his sturdy abdomen. Tonight was gonna be fun.

***

Jake carried you to the dark bedroom, and you stared into the mask's large black eyes the whole way, unable to see even a sliver of your boyfriend's face. He then tossed you on the mattress, jostling a yelp from you. The storm outside had long passed, and the clouds had parted to reveal the stereotypical Halloween night full moon. Its gray light slotted in through the open blinds, slicing through the blackness of the room. The cold glow lit Jake’s bare chest enticingly, and it made the bright white mask look even more haunting in the semi-darkness.

He crawled on top of you deliciously, leaning down so his head next to yours. “Remember our safe word, pretty girl?” his voice raspy, positively dripping with lust.

You nodded, “Wes Craven.” A smile creeped over your lips.

Jake sat up and nodded, clearly satisfied and ready to begin. Tingles fluttered through your skin; they started in your toes and snaked their way up through your legs, finding their destination at your throbbing heat.

You squirmed, unable to contain your desperation for his touch.

He climbed off of you and kneeled at the edge of the bed, tugging on the ankles of your pants. You lifted your hips so he could pull them off, leaving you in nothing but your panties and your barely-there tank top. You shivered in the cold air, your nipples perking up even more.

The night hadn't even gotten past a PG-13 rating, as Sidney would say, and yet, the tent that had formed in Jake's pants already looked painful. Forgetting your own pleasure, your mouth watered at the idea of taking care of his.

You slid off the bed and kneeled on the floor in front of him, so close you could hear his quickening breath. You tapped the tops of thighs to signal that you want him to stand up. Jake did so slowly, almost unsurely, looking down at you the whole time. With deft fingers, you made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing the rough denim down low on his hips, not having the ability to tease him anymore.

His thick, defined print through his boxers almost made you moan. You ghosted your fingertips along his clothed length, in awe of him. He spasmed hard under your touch, making you gasp in surprise. There was no way he was already this sensitive.

You leaned forward, mouthing him through the cotton, creating a warm wet spot on the fabric. A pained groan sounded from above you, and you looked up to see that Jake had not moved his head the slightest bit, meaning that, under the mask, his eyes were still locked on you; he was taking great pleasure in watching you make a mess of his underwear.

Smirking, you pulled his boxers down, and he sprung free, bobbing appetizingly up and down. You were in disbelief at how hard he was already; Jake always got off on giving you pleasure, not the other way around. Could it be that he was enjoying your fantasy as much as you were?

You took his heavy length in your hand, his skin velvety-soft. Pumping him slowly, you traced the fingers of your other hand over his hipbone, considering your next move.

You decided to do something you'd never done before, just for the fuck of it. You had an urge to reward Jake for fulfilling this fantasy of yours. So, slowing removing your hand from him-- really wanting to make a show of it-- you brought your palm to your lips and spit thickly into it. A string of saliva hung between your mouth and your hand as you resumed stroking his cock, gripping him tighter this time. The muscles in his abdomen visibly flexed, and you could tell Jake was holding back a whimper from the choked noise he was making. He gathered your hair out of your face into his fist at the back of your head.

You knew he wanted to fuck your mouth, but you weren't going to let him just yet. You were going to savor this, assuming it would be your last few moments of being in control for the rest of the night.

You began pumping him faster, the slick of your saliva making the movement sickeningly easy. You rested your free hand on his thigh, feeling his muscles tense and contract repeatedly. As soon as he thrusted his hips into your hand, you broke all contact, making Jake exhale heavily, a whine sneaking in at the end.

Looking up at him and batting your eyes, you stuck your tongue out flat, moving it so that the head of his cock rested on it.

You flicked the tip of your tongue at that sweet spot under the head, and his dick twitched madly. You persisted your kitten licks, knowing that you were slowly swelling up his desire to throw you around and have his fucking way with you.

You wrapped your lips around his throbbing head, swirling your tongue around it and tasting the precum that leaked from it. You purposefully moaned loud and long so that the vibrations went straight into his dick, making him quiver.

Daringly, you pushed your mouth further down his cock, and the fist Jake had wrapped around your hair tightened, slightly pulling your chin upwards. Once your nose was brushing the soft hair at his base, you hollowed out your cheeks, pulling your head back and sucking him hard all the way up his shaft and back down again. His knees almost buckled.

You would have murdered the rest of the town of Woodsboro to see the pleasure splashed out on his face. His cheeks always grew so prettily pink, his lips red and parted, gasping for air.

You shamelessly ground your covered pussy into the floor, aching for friction. Jake noticed this, and he used the leverage he had on your hair to yank you away from him. You whined in protest, but he wasn’t having any of it. The realization sparked in your mind that the reason he stopped you was because you had almost made him cum. Already.

He pointed his finger stiffly to the bed, instructing you to get back on top of the sheets. You did so quickly and obediently while he tugged his pants and boxers all the way down and off, leaving him fully, stunningly naked, save for his silver medallion necklace and the Ghostface mask.

God, you had dreamed about this pretty much since you met the guy at that Halloween party back in college. You were a slutty vampire, and he was, of course, dressed as Ghostface, and you would have bet money that the mask he was wearing tonight was the very same one from all those years ago. The sentiment had almost distracted you from the feeling of his fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tank top. You nodded, thinking he was asking for permission to bare you to him, but he just kept rubbing the seam between pinched fingers. Humming with understanding, you sat up and reached to grasp the fabric where his fingers were. Closing your eyes seductively, you slowly revealed the skin of your torso bit by bit, inch by inch, letting your breasts be the prize you made him wait for.

Pausing in disbelief at the plucky acoustic guitar that had begun to whisper through the room, you swallowed hard as you listened close, praying you were hearing what you thought you were. A breathy, haunting voice began to sing,

"All our times have come,

here but now they're gone..."

The very same voice that serenaded Sidney and Billy in the movie.

Jake was setting his phone down on the bedside table right beside the Bluetooth speaker. You were hazily astonished by how he was able to do that in the time it took for you to take off your top.

“You... are…” you started, unable to hold back the arousal-soaked laugh that shook from you as his knees straddled your upper thighs, “unbelievable.”

He said nothing as he tucked a finger in the waistband of your panties and ripped them off of you, making you gasp at the sudden roughness that punctuated the serene, yet painfully arousing music. He held up the pathetic strands of fabric that your underwear had now become, dangling them so that you got a good look of what he could do to you. You hummed a moan behind closed lips, loving the overt display of dominating masculinity. Tossing the ruined panties aside like the garbage they now were, he touched the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pulling it down and prying your jaw open. The action dizzied you with seduction, and you let loose a loud, uninhibited moan, giving him just what he wanted as his fingers dipped into your wetness and brought them up to rub small circles on your clit.

The fire inside you was scorching every crevice, your edges smoldering. You were more than happy to let Jake take you all the way to the edge and over it just with his skilled fingers, which you knew he was more than capable of doing. But that’s clearly not what he had in mind when you felt his weight suddenly absent from the bed. Your eyes lazily blinked open to stare at the ceiling when you heard a drawer open, knowing that there was a whole variety of things he could be grabbing to use on you…

Ghostface reappeared in your field of vision, necklace and hair dangling a foot or two above you.

As well as the strip of black silk and the fuzzy handcuffs he was holding.

You were so overcome with anticipation that your vision went blurry, the back of your head pressing deep into the pillows.

“Wow," you gulped, gasping for air, "you’re really running with the ‘psycho killer’ theme, huh?”

You did your best to hide it, but your voice betrayed exactly how turned on this made you.

Jake nodded tantalizingly.

First came the blindfold. Once the cold silk was tied securely around your eyes, the rest of your senses were instantly enhanced; you felt every fiber of the sheets beneath you, and you could even faintly smell the cinnamon wafting in from the living room.

The handcuffs came next, but not before Jake took both of your hands and pinned them above your head. He closed one of the soft loops around your left wrist, the clicking sound and the almost-too-tightness sending a flood of arousal through you— you were surely soaking the sheets by now.

You heard him thread the free loop through the bars of the headboard and close it around your other wrist, hissing at the sensation. You tested your new range of movement, finding it deliciously limited. Your clit prickled with pleasure, knowing that whatever happened next was out of your control. You'd put up a good fight, but now you were thrilled to just lie down and take what was coming to you.

“Alright, pretty boy,” your voice silky with pleasure. “Do your worst.”

He let you lie untouched for a moment, your need growing rapidly.

Then, his fingers attacked to your hot center, rubbing up and down your folds, collecting the wetness that had gathered.

You whined when his fingers left you once again, starting to regret wanting this. He could tease you and edge you like this for hours.

What hit your ears next had you gushing. There was an obscene slurping sound as Jake sucked your slick off his fingers. The vulgar noise alone caused you to moan loud and long, your hips writhing.

He stilled your movements with a strong arm across your pelvis, pressing you down into the bed as he punished your clit, rubbing harder and faster, his fingers lubricated with his own spit. You felt your legs start to go numb, your chest and face flushing hotly.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Jake still had the mask on even though you couldn’t see it; the only reason he'd have it on now is if he wanted it. But when he finally pushed a finger inside you, a groan escaped him despite his best efforts-- still muffled by the rubber.

When he brushed the pad of his finger against your g-spot, you let out a high-pitched moan. The stimulation was divine, but it wasn't near enough to get you off, which you needed more than you needed oxygen in that moment. You desperately wiggled your hips under his arm, desperate to be more filled. He acquiesced, pushing a second finger inside, stretching you delectably. Jake started to pump in and out, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your throbbing clit.

You were submerged in euphoria when you felt a warm liquid drip down from your pubic bone and into your folds-- Jake had spit on you. Like you were some dirty slut. Fantasizing about being fucked by a masked serial killer? Yeah, you were a filthy whore. And you loved it. Clearly, so did Jake.

A pitiful whine slipped past your lips as Jake picked up the pace, pumping and rubbing faster and harder, the pornographic squelching noise it made had your mind going numb. The blood in your veins had seemed to be replaced by pure liquid pleasure as the feeling of Jake’s fingers on and inside your most sensitive parts shot you ever-closer to your looming peak, threatening a vigorous collapse.

“Jake, please,” you pleaded. “Shit…need more,” you panted. You meant that you wanted his thick cock shoved deep inside you, but he simply kicked up his fingers a notch or two, sending you hurtling straight into the wall of your high, but excruciatingly unable to climb over it.

“Fuck, Jake!” You grappled with your restraints, wanting nothing more than to grab his wrists and pull him away from you. The pleasure was way too much. Pathetically overstimulated, it took you way too long to realize that Jake knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You’re evil,” you sobbed, tears soaking the black silk over your eyes. Your mind couldn't understand or perceive anything but Jake’s merciless fingers at your cunt, the sensation beyond unbearable.

Just before you thought you were going to explode into fire, leaving nothing but ash and cinders, Jake relented.

Tear-stained and absolutely dripping wet, you were sure you were a sight to behold.

“Fucking bitch,” you spat, trying to catch your breath. It took you a good minute to remember where you where.

You then felt his strong palm come down hard on the side of your hip, sending you right back up into the stars. “Ow, Jesus, Jake!” you shouted, swallowing hard. But you both knew how much you liked being smacked around. His hand soothed the red mark he left.

His thumb gently brushed your cheeks, drying the tears that had flooded beyond the silk covering your eyes.

He grazed his hand from your chin, down your exposed neck, to your collarbone, and down to trace where the swell of your breasts began, obviously reveling in the image of your naked body all tied up and leaking for him. You felt his calloused fingers pinch one of your hard nipples while his free hand kneaded your other breast, making your back arch up into his touch, feeling divinely sensitive. A whine left your throat, your hips bucking pitifully.

His hands dragged down the sides of your waist and hips, finally settling and digging his fingers into your skin. You inhaled sharply as you felt his throbbingly hard cock run through your folds, sending shockwaves up to your head, fogging up your mind once more.

“Please,” you whispered a prayer, hungry for his cock.

Stars exploded behind your eyes when suddenly, Jake forcefully thrusted into you all the way, not giving you even a moment to get used to his size.

Your whole body was attacked with tingles, that familiar heat growing in your stomach again when you felt Jake lean over you, shivering at the feeling of the cold metal of his necklace landing on your chest. The heat and softness of his bare skin on yours felt so intimate compared to the outrageously obscene slapping sound that was erupting from between your two pelvises. Your pussy was exponentially wetter than normal, attributing it to the arousal of your long-time fantasy playing out on your favorite night of the year, as well as Jake’s talented cock brushing your g-spot with each quick snap of his hips, leaving you a moaning, blubbering mess.

“Jake, please, I’m almost there, I need more.” You had the urge to reach down and rub your clit to skyrocket you to your peak, momentarily forgetting your restraints; the sound of the metal chain that connected the loops rattling against the headboard along with your desperate whines seemed to encourage Jake. He started thrusting into you even faster and harder. One of his hands left your hips, and before long, his pointer and middle fingers were pushing past your lips. You sucked on them eagerly, moaning around them as you greedily swirled your tongue all over his skin, tasting his salty sweat and your own lingering arousal.

Sufficiently slicked, he pulled his fingers from your lips with a ‘pop,’ bringing them down to rub your clit hard. At this point, you were screaming in pleasure, writhing against your restraints, chanting Jake’s name like he was a god. He was everywhere; on top of you, inside of you, within you. It was overpowering.

Your toes began to curl as you felt yourself teetering on the edge you wouldn’t be able to come back from, about to be launched into the most extreme pleasure you’d ever felt.

“I’m about to cum, Jake, fuck!” you sobbed, breathing so heavy that your head started to spin.

One more particularly expert thrust of Jake’s hips sent you screaming into the deep, vast abyss of unimaginable pleasure. Your walls clenched like a vice around Jake’s cock, wetness flowing out of you. Your whole body went white-hot numb, making you forget your existence in this reality.

All the while, Jake was still thrusting into you, riding you through the waves of you unbearable euphoria.

Blinking hard, your breath gradually slowed as you regained feeling in your body. Jake was caressing your hips, helping to bring you back down to earth.

Once your breathing evened out, you felt him peel his torso off of yours, the both of you damp with sweat.

“Shit,” you heard him exclaim breathily— the first time he’s spoken this whole time— the single word drawn out in pure incredulity. The click that followed was him turning the dim bedside lamp on.

“What? What is it?”

“See for yourself.”

He removed your tear-soaked blindfold, your vision blurry and stinging from being in total blackness for so long. You squinted as your eyes adjusted in the low lamplight to see what had Jake so amazed.

Streaks of red were splattered between you, painting the both of you with fresh, dark blood.

“Oh, fuck, Jake, I’m so sorry,” you gasped in utter disbelief and embarrassment. “I didn’t know I was starting, or else I wouldn’t have-“

You trailed off as you watched Jake remove the Ghostface mask: his brown hair was disheveled, eyes half-lidded and lips open, visibly stunned. He tentatively dragged his fingers across a particularly thick streak of blood on his stomach and held up his hand as he watched it drip down over his palm. He was entirely dumbfounded, like there were no other thoughts in his mind except your blood on his skin. He pulled out of you, still hard and twitching.

You watched in hazy awe as Jake began to slowly pump his cock, using your slick blood to glide over his length. His eyes were locked onto to his streaked fist. Gradually getting faster and faster, his breathing quickened and high-pitched moans and whines started to slip past his fucked-out pink lips. He threw his head back, and the sweat on his flushed neck glistened in the low light. His eyebrows furrowed, concentrating hard on his impending release. He grunted deep and long as he came on your already-painted stomach, shooting hot and hard.

His chin fell to his chest, every ounce of his energy drained from him as he collapsed back to sit on his heels.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, still breathing hard and admiring the red blood marring the pale white flesh on his hand and his cock.

You didn't have the words to express how turned on you were. You simply stared at him as he sat between your shaking legs.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," he breathed, wiping his bloodied hand on his waist and sliding off the bed, rushing to your side to release you from your handcuffs.

He took your hands and kissed both of your wrists, your soft, sweet Jakey resurfacing. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bathroom.

***

As the warm water of the bath Jake drew for you soothed your aching muscles, the fog in your brain slowly dissolved into bliss. You watched as steam swirled around the white-tiled room. Jake, having quickly cleaned off and changed into a sweatshirt and flannel pants, had returned from the kitchen with two classes of cold water. He passed you one as he kneeled beside the tub, stroking your hair.

You cleared your throat to try and rejuvenate your weak voice. "That was amazing."

"I couldn't agree more,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Are you ok?"

You nodded and hummed a response, leaning into his touch on your jaw.

"Never thought I'd get so hot and bothered at the sight of you covered in blood," you said with a giggle.

"Well, we already knew you were a bit twisted, what with you wanting to be ruined by Ghostface," he joked, a grin spreading over his lips.

"And ruined, I was."

Jake held out his hand to help you step out of the bathtub, handing you a fluffy white towel. Once you were dry, he tied his soft robe around you, taking a moment to worship the sight of your body.

You turned to head towards the linen closet to grab a fresh set of sheets, thinking about the crime scene that was yours and Jake's bed.

Jake grabbed you by your waist and turned you around to face him. "Mm-mm. Already done, pretty girl. You have nothing to worry about." He placed a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose.

"You already changed the--?"

"Yep. All clean."

You hadn't any idea where he had found the time to do that, but you almost moaned at the idea of sinking deep into the fresh sheets next to Jake.

Once more, you found yourself with your legs wrapped around Jake's waist as he carried you back to the bedroom, your chin propped on his shoulder.

He set you down on your back on the mattress, leaning over your body to kiss you deeply. It was passionate, yet spilling over with tenderness. In that moment, all you knew was Jake's solid body and his soft lips.

You gasped and chuckled at the feeling of Jake already hard again between your legs.

He looked down at the bulge in his pants. "'God, you see what you do to me?'" he quoted Billy Loomis with a smile, talking against your lips.

"No, I don't," you said coyly, returning his smile and wrapping your arms around his back, pulling him flush to you. "Why don't you show me?"

PART TWO!!

taglist post!

#gvf #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #jake gvf #scream #ghostface #greta van fleet smut #jake kiszka x reader

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friskarm · 3 months

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tentatively putting my thoughts into the tag. for context i am an anime-only watcher but i've been really, really enjoying the mage exam arc and i was definitely a little surprised to find out that this arc has a lot of people frustrated!

one of the strengths of this arc, i think, is seeing how frieren interacts with characters and personalities we've not seen her encounter before. fern and stark are both relatively placid as people; they're generally content to go along with what frieren says.

lawine and kanne are two very strong personalities that frieren initially doesn't know how to deal with at all! they have a whole thing going on and frieren's choice is to. not handle it at all. rather, she spends much of her time quietly observing the two of them until she can speak with each of them individually and figure them out, just a bit. she really struggles to get a grasp on the situation until she does that; it's lawine and kanne who are acting first within their team.

then, secondly -- frieren's plan is so. elf with a lot of time to spare. the impact of the time limit is felt so strongly by every human character on the field; everyone is in such a rush! fern's team are stoked they caught a stille so early. the team that attacks them are desperate to steal it asap. after lawine freezes the lake, the other teams are desperately trying to thaw it, for a quick solution.

frieren, though? frieren's solution takes a shitton of time and involves her essentially meditating by a pond for god knows how many hours. it's such a frieren plan; i feel like only someone with a relationship with time like frieren does would come up with it.

tldr; frieren's capacity to form relationships and understand people and her relationship with time are shown off in a really interesting way wrt the way frieren solves the stille problem.

that, and... it seems a bit silly to say this about a show with a certain character in the title but... i do not feel that frieren is exclusively about frieren. it is certainly a story about her adventures but frieren is by no means the only important character! fern is also there! and stark but hes on vacation. so let's talk about fern.

the one fight scene fern has is so unbelieveably crunchy to me bc we learn so much about the world (now) and about the world (part)/frieren's view on magic from it! the girl she fights has really impressive magic; we know that this is generally considered a time of peace, the demon lord is dead, etc. magic is not necessarily a means to an end. i wonder if this means magic has entered a sort of renaissance? a time period after a period of great upheaval, where social structure is thrown out the window and great advances are made in technology, science - and maybe magic!

the way fern uses magic is very indicative of how frieren feels about magic. fern says (that frieren said) that "this is enough to defeat mages of this era", which is so interesting to me bc yes, ofc, fern does win! with her simple magic and full auto fire. but does that automatically mean fern is a better mage? it's complicated...

you hear a lot about the different philosophies of people who use magic in these episodes, and what i'm really interested in seeing is mr war guy meet frieren, bc i think they'd be the most interesting contrast -- a warrior of the past, and a warrior of today.

specifically bc -- frieren is basically a custom-designed warrior. the way she can mask her mana is very specifically designed to be able to weaponised against demons, flamme did that to her very purposefully. the way she's trained fern is also indicative of that; fern's immense firepower and stamina being "enough to defeat mages of this era" without being flashy so to speak indicate, at least to me, that this sort of thing was common in frieren's time! but this is a type of magic very specifically made for battle against a very specific enemy.

no wonder frieren likes collecting weird spells so much... i wonder if she's had much time at all in the past to play around with magic for the sake of anything but fighting and training to fight?

#frieren #sousou no frieren #sorry this was inspired by my friend velteris's good post #this is also probably highly incoherent #i am just a simple anime watcher

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atsadi-shenanigans · 7 days

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Something Full-Bodied and Red

Did a thing. Here's period smut!

It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.” Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?” “Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.” No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.

Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

The rest on AO3.

#full-bodied and red #these two shitheads #astarion smut #bg3 smut #tavstarion smut #period kink #astarion period kink #blood kink #vampire shenanigans #these two are so weird #idiots in love #they're both assholes

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