#i wonder if he ever got over the small envelope though
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TWTHH Bonus: Honeymoon Avenue
Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader
AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)
Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.
A/N: This picks up directly from the final part of TWTHH, and takes place before the events of Wooyoung's spinoff.
Fic Masterlist | Star of the Show
You let out a small groan as you woke up from your slumber, feeling a familiar pair of arms tightening their hold around you. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered where you were, blinking a few times to clear your vision and take in the surroundings you recognised as Seonghwa's private quarters.
Warmth rushed to your cheeks as you felt your husband's steady breath against the bare skin of your shoulder from behind. Shyness washed over you when you realised you were both still completely bare beneath the fabric of his comforter.
Memories of the intimacy from the previous night flooded your mind, and you buried your face in the pillow. It was as if you could still feel every touch, every kiss, and every moment of pleasure he had given you. So, this was how it felt to be loved so passionately. You hoped for nothing more than for him to be your first and last.
"Good morning, my love. I see you're up," his deep voice greeted, sounding even deeper than usual as he had only just woken up. He leaned in to whisper sensually into your ear before planting a soft kiss on your cheek, "Did you sleep well?"
Turning to face him, you nodded meekly, biting your lip, "I did, Hwa. Good morning to you too," you replied, feeling your breath hitch as his gaze focused solely on your lips.
He nodded in response, "Good, so did I." Without hesitation, he cupped your cheek and pressed his lips firmly against yours.
Your eyes fluttered shut the moment his familiar lips met yours. Kissing him back as if it were second nature, you wished for this moment to last forever as his larger frame enveloped yours, the skin-to-skin contact creating an intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. His ability to make you feel vulnerable yet safe at the same time still filled you with wonder. At that moment, his presence was all-encompassing; he was all you could see and think of.
I can't believe this man is all mine.
Seonghwa, equally content, felt his heart swell with affection for you. Caressing your cheek, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, struggling to control his breathing when you bravely reached up to run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging at it. Despite witnessing your growing boldness since his return from war, your reciprocation of his affections still stirred his heart.
I'm yours and only yours, my love.
As you finally broke the kiss to catch your breath, he grinned and murmured, "Damn, Lady Park, who would've thought you'd be such an excellent kisser." Despite the blush creeping up your cheeks, you scoffed playfully. Moving to lay your head on his chest, you traced patterns on his skin with your finger, "What do you know, General Park? You speak as though you've kissed anyone other than me."
His pride swelled as he nodded in defeat to your response. Day by day, you were increasingly embodying the essence of the general's wife with your newfound demeanour. It wasn't that you needed to change for him; rather, it was remarkable to witness your transformation into a confident woman who knew her worth, having shed the old shell crafted by your so-called family. Reflecting on his time away at war, he began to see it as a blessing in disguise. Perhaps it was necessary for you to undergo further personal growth.
Nestling into the curve of his neck, you pulled the comforter up higher to conceal your front. A shiver raced down your spine as his hand traced gentle patterns on your bare back beneath the fabric, making you feel slightly bashful at being so exposed to him. He smirked, placing a kiss on your neck and teasing, "Are you getting shy now, my wife? There's no need to cover up or hide from me; I've already seen everything."
"You can be so annoying, you know that?" Rolling your eyes, you playfully pushed at his chest, but he easily resisted, his strength overpowering your feeble attempts. With feather-light kisses dancing across your skin, he tickled you, eliciting a giggle. Chuckling, he remarked, "Oh, come on. I miss the bold Lady Park who took charge last night."
Blushing, you let out an embarrassed squeal, "Oh, quit it! Stop reminding me!" He chuckled, hugging you close against him, his voice teasing as he whispered in your ear, "Remember how badly you wanted me to undo your hanbok?"
"Shut up, Park Seonghwa, or else—"
"Or else what, my dear Lady Park?"
Your husband's smug grin only fueled your frustration. Summoning a surge of determination, you swiftly flipped him onto the bed, looming over him as you straddled his hips, "I'll make you regret it," you declared, a playful glare in your eyes.
His heart skipped a beat as he looked up at you, struck by your beauty with your long hair framing your face like a curtain.
"Go ahead, my love. Make me regret."
Unbeknownst to the two, Eunsook and the group of maids assigned to bathe the couple all exchanged sheepish glances. The head maid cleared her throat, shooting a stern look at the young maids to silence them for fear of alerting you both, ordering in a soft voice, "We'll come back later. It seems the master and mistress are not quite prepared to begin their day just yet."
Jongho was taken aback to see the elderly woman return with the maids she had brought along, supposedly to get the couple ready for the day, "Huh? Are you all finished already? That was fast."
Dismissing the maids, Eunsook offered the assistant a knowing smile, "It appears the master and mistress are, um... still occupied at the moment. We'll come back later to check on them. For now, please ensure no one disturbs them."
His ears turned red as he registered what she meant by that, nodding quickly, "Y-yes, of course! I'll make sure no one passes through."
As half a day slipped away, you and Seonghwa finally emerged from his quarters, ready to receive your baths. The maids couldn't contain their giggles as they noticed the new marks adorning your skin, evidence of the passionate night—and morning—you and the general had shared. These marks were different from your old scars—they spoke of love and affection rather than pain. You pouted at their laughter, but they only laughed harder, "Enough, you meanies."
Eunsook softened as she washed your hair, "We're just happy for you, mistress. You are happy, aren't you?"
You bit your lip, nodding, "I am happy. The happiest woman on earth, if possible."
"Then that's all that matters to us."
Their hearts warmed at the beautiful smile that graced your face, wishing for nothing more than for you to remain content for as long as possible. You, the miracle who had brought so much light into the once sombre halls of the general's estate, truly deserved all the happiness in the world.
On the other side of the room, while assisting his master with the final touches of his outfit for the day, Jongho couldn't help but notice Seonghwa's dreamy expression and the persistent little smile on his handsome face.
"You seem to be in a good mood, sir," the assistant remarked as he focused on fastening the ribbons on the general's attire. Your husband nodded, "I am. Who would've thought married life isn't half as bad as we initially believed. In fact, it's pretty damn amazing. You should try it too, Jongho."
Blinking rapidly, the younger man raised a brow, "Try what? Marriage? Sir, I have no time for that. I'd make a terrible husband."
Seonghwa sighed, "See, that's your problem. You're always too dedicated, never making time for yourself. As much as I value your dedication, I want you to find happiness too."
"I am content, sir."
"Oh, come on, that's not what I meant—"
"Your outfit is ready, sir. You're all set."
Shaking his head in resignation, the general rubbed his temples, "Wooyoung was right about you. You need to get a life."
"He said what? The audacity—"
Heaving a deep sigh, Seonghwa rubbed his eyes after going over all the reports Mingi had prepared detailing every aspect of the recent war with Ruhon—the strategies employed and areas for improvement. The documents required his stamp of approval before they were shipped off to be stored in the palace archives. The military strategist had provided such detailed explanations that they were now giving him a headache.
"Gosh, I can't decide whether I love or hate Officer Song for these long ass reports. They're thorough to the point of being exhausting," he said with a shake of his head, "Is that everything, Jongho?"
The assistant nodded, gathering the completed scrolls to be delivered to San for a final vetting, "Yes, sir. That was the last of it. You're finished for the day. If that is all, I should probably hand these over to Royal Secretary Choi immediately."
"Oh, thank god. Go ahead, Jongho."
With a respectful bow, the younger man did not waste another second making a beeline for the exit, his mind focused on nothing else but his task. The general stared after him with a defeated huff, wishing for his aide to be a little less uptight and to live a little, "I should probably find him a wife."
Speaking of wives, he was reminded of his own. Suddenly, all concerns for Jongho's love life were pushed to the back of his mind and forgotten. Excitedly rising from his seat, his heart raced with anticipation as he set off to find you. He felt bad for leaving you alone for most of the day due to his work, but now he couldn't wait to have you all to himself.
Oh, it would feel like paradise.
He frowned, his steps faltering when he found you nowhere in the House of Lotus. Hastening his pace, he headed to the garden, where you often spent time tending to the flowers with Eunsook and the maids, only to find it empty. As a last resort, he even checked Yunho's quarters, torn between relief at finding the physician alone and frustration at not finding you.
Could you be upset with him for not spending time with you all day? No, that didn't seem like you at all. You were literally the most understanding person he knew. So, where could you be hiding? The wildest scenarios began to creep into his mind when he couldn't find you. What if his enemies had somehow infiltrated the estate? What if you were kidnapped? What if—
His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of you in the living hall, seated with Hongjoong and Wooyoung, seemingly engrossed in something. The two men watched you intently, particularly the investigator, who seemed more focused on your face than whatever you were doing. With a clearing of his throat, Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "What are you three up to?"
Turning to glare at him, the dressmaker hushed him, "Keep it down, you doofus! She's trying to concentrate!"
Feeling offended, your husband narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to finally see what you had been up to; you were focused on learning embroidery. It dawned on him that Hongjoong must be teaching you a bit about his craft. He softened as he observed the deeply immersed look on your face, with your tongue poking out of the corner of your lips in concentration.
Good lord, she looks adorable.
In his attempt to move closer to you, he was met with yet another warning glare, causing annoyance to bubble within him. While he was grateful for the company Hongjoong and Wooyoung provided you in his absence, a part of him couldn't shake the irritation of seeing you accompanied by other men, even if they were his friends.
At that moment, he questioned why the guys were still around. The dressmaker, physician, and investigator had only been summoned while he was away at war to watch over you. Now that he was back home, he realised their presence was no longer necessary. It was then that he made a firm decision. From now on, he was determined to spend this time after your wedding alone with you.
The general wasted no time gathering his three friends that evening as soon as your embroidery lesson came to an end. With a polite yet firm tone, he explained his desire to have some alone time with you, dismissing them from the estate. Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged knowing glances, understanding the importance of the honeymoon period for passionate newlyweds like yourselves. Although Wooyoung was reluctant to go, he ultimately knew he had no choice but to comply with Seonghwa's request.
In a matter of days, the trio officially left the estate, returning to their own lives. This left you and your husband alone at last, ready to begin this new chapter of your lives together.
True to his expectations, the weeks that followed were pure bliss. He requested time off from work, and His Majesty was happy to oblige. He spent nearly every waking hour glued to you. By this point, everyone in the estate knew better than to interrupt when the master and mistress wanted privacy, ensuring the couple had all the intimate moments they needed. There were even jokes among the staff that a little Park might be on the way soon at this rate.
And perhaps their predictions weren't so far-fetched after all. It was on a fine day when you were spending another lovely afternoon in the House of Lotus practising embroidering, or at least tried to, with your husband seated behind you, his arms encircling your frame, that you began to show signs of sickness.
Leaving kisses all over your neck, he tickled you endlessly, causing you to giggle and push him away, "Hwa, please, I can't focus when you keep—" Before you could finish your sentence, a sudden wave of nausea hit you, and you let out a small gasp, pressing a hand to your chest to contain it.
Concerned, he immediately stopped and turned you around gently, "What is it, my love? Are you alright?"
"I-I'm fine... the feeling's gone, maybe it was something I ate," you reassured him when he suggested summoning the physician. Eventually, he relented and left you alone.
The second time occurred during dinner, with the kitchen having prepared one of your favourite dishes. Instead of savouring it as you normally would, you pressed a hand to your nose, "You okay, my wife?" you nodded and attempted to eat, only to end up retching from the smell of the dish.
Once again, you insisted you were fine and refused to see the doctor. He let you be, telling himself that if anything else were to happen, he wouldn't hesitate to call Yunho over. You convinced him that you must have caught the cold or something, seemingly fine after some rest.
The breaking point came during a leisurely stroll together in the garden. He tightened his hold on you when he noticed you swaying slightly. Smiling up at him, you reassured him, "I'm fine, Hwa. You worry too much." To ease his worries, you pressed your lips against his. For a moment, it worked, and he lost himself in the sweet kiss.
However, when you pulled back, seemingly out of breath, his heart lurched in his chest as your eyes rolled back, and he didn't waste a second catching your limp form in his arms.
"Jongho! Get Physician Jung here now!"
The sense of terror hit Seonghwa like a tidal wave as he found himself cradling you, unconscious, on his bed. Seeing you like this scared him more than any war ever could. Yunho rushed in shortly after, and the general reluctantly stepped aside to let the doctor examine you. Gently, he held your wrist, reading your pulse, after ensuring you were physically alright.
A few tense moments later, the taller man turned around with a smile, and your husband held his breath, "Congratulations, General Park. Your wife is with child."
Emotions surged within your husband as he released a sigh of relief, tears gathering in his eyes. The realisation dawned on him—of course, you were pregnant. How had he not considered that sooner? Slowly, the significance of it all began to sink in. The love of his life was carrying his child.
I'm going to be a father.
Y'all, I was sleep-deprived asf writing the second half part of this bonus part HAHA I hope it didn't seem rushed or anything.
As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3
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#edenesth#the way to his heart#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#park seonghwa#ateez seonghwa#arranged marriage au#joseon era#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa x you#ateez fic#historical au
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I've got this image in my head of very pregnant!AYW reader sitting outside with her feet in a kiddie pool, letting the older boys splash around and keep her cool on a hot day. Maybe a cooler full of frozen treats at her side.
I have had this one in my ask box forever because I wanted to write something I’d be happy with and I think I’m there lol. I hope it makes you happy as well 😘
Words: 1.4k
[As You Wish masterlist]
Of course. The August that you’re seven months pregnant is the hottest summer Hawkins has had in over fifty years. Of course.
Eddie could see how the heat was getting to you. Sweat would dot your forehead just moments after you’d step outside. Your ankles had swollen to almost double the size. It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that you were a little more irritable than usual as well. But your husband wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort you. Usually, his way of comforting you included wrapping you up in his arms but the one time he’d attempted to do that you’d given him a death glare that blazed hotter than the weather. He’d learned his lesson after that: no touching when the temperature is above a hundred degrees.
One early Saturday afternoon, you and Luke are eating lunch while Eddie and Ryan run a few errands. Luke had wanted to go too, but ever since you started your third trimester, Eddie didn’t like the idea of leaving you by yourself.
It’s quiet between you and your ten-year-old son when the back door bangs open, making you jump and swivel around in your seat–which was no easy task. Perspiration runs down Eddie’s forehead, Ryan’s own golden brown hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture. Patches of Ryan’s gray shirt are black and clinging to his skin from the sweat. If Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt weren’t so dark, you know you’d see the same thing on him. Despite how hot and sweaty they both look, they both have smiles on their faces and Eddie looks quite proud of himself.
“I f’ought oo were goin’ to da store,” you say around a mouth full of pasta salad.
“We did,” Eddie said, breaths labored.
“And we set up a surprise for you!” Ryan adds, his beaming grin stretching from ear to ear.
“And me?” Luke asks optimistically, craning his neck to look over at his father and brother.
“Actually, kind of,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Come on.” Your husband waves the both of you over towards the back door before remembering he should help you up out of the chair–even though you’re capable of doing it yourself.
The boys both run ahead of you as Eddie stays back with your waddling pace. It feels like no sooner than your bare foot hits the grass of the yard than sweat begins to break out along your hairline. You swear you’ll never complain about the winter being too cold again.
“It’s small,” you hear Luke say.
Your eyes catch on the short inflatable kiddie pool set up in the middle of the backyard, two white and blue striped lawn chairs set up beside it, and a large red cooler between them. The garden hose is hanging inside the pool, the green tube writhing like a snake as the water whooshes in to fill the empty space.
“Cause it’s a kiddie pool, duh,” Ryan replies to his brother.
“I thought,” Eddie starts, reaching up to rub your shoulders before catching himself, not wanting to make your discomfort worse, “you could sit out here with your feet in the nice cold water. Might help your ankles, too. And you know these two monkeys are always splashing so you’re bound to get caught in the crossfire.”
“Hey,” Luke protests, but Ryan nudges him with his elbow because they both know that their father is right.
“And…” Eddie takes your hand and gently leads you closer to the chairs, where he opens the cooler that’s nestled between them. Inside there are different flavors of ice pops, ice cream bars, and cold drinks, all enveloped in gallons of ice that have a pleasant chill wafting off them.
Words become trapped in your throat. Your wonderful husband did all of this for you just because he knows how the heat has been making you feel lately. And after you’ve been a pain in the ass. This would’ve made you emotional even if the hormones didn’t beat you to the punch.
“Eddie,” you say, all other speech cut off as your bottom lip begins to wobble.
“Uh oh,” Luke whispers.
“No, could be a good thing,” Ryan mumbles back quietly. He was slightly better at understanding the emotional aspect of hormones than his little brother.
“This is so sweet,” you say, turning to cup your husband’s face in your hands.
“You’ve been hard at work cooking that bun in the oven,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Oven needs some cooling down though, she’s getting overheated.”
“Ahem,” you hear from behind you. Ryan moves into your peripheral vision, and you turn your head to look at him, sliding your hands down to Eddie’s shoulders as you do. The eldest brother is clearly holding something behind his back, and you scrunch up your brow as you look at him.
“Whatcha got?” you ask.
Eddie huffs out a small chuckle and presses a kiss to your temple before saying, “Ryan found something at the store he says is on every ad for the beach.”
“You bought me sand? The ocean?” you tease the boy.
Ryan rolls his eyes, another reminder that he’s a preteen now.
“No,” he says. From behind him, Ryan brandishes a floppy hat, and he is certainly right—a woman is wearing one of those in every ad for the beach.
“Ryan, I love it!” you exclaim with a giggle. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you waddle over the few steps to the boy. He holds the straw hat out to you, a bright grin on his face at your happiness.
“You know,” you say as you accept the hat from him, “I’d bend down so you could put it on my head but then I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.”
“Like crowning a princess!” Luke adds as Ryan laughs.
“Well,” your husband says, coming up behind you, “it’s a good thing I’m taller than Ryan then, huh? Or we could’ve just made Luke help you back up.”
Eddie plucks the hat from your grasp, the straw scratching lightly against your fingertips as he pulls it away. He steps in front of you, and you keep your head level, only raising your eyes to watch Eddie’s pale, toned arms lift to place the floppy hat on top of your head gently.
“Your Highness,” Eddie says, bowing his head. Your giggle makes Eddie grin as he gestures towards the lawn chairs. “Your throne awaits.”
Twenty minutes later it’s as if the summer heat were merely an annoying insect that you’re only somewhat aware of. Even though the chill water of the miniature pool only goes up to midcalf, sloshes of water have hit you all the way up to your neck. The cool beads of moisture feel like heaven as they meander down your red tank top, though. The denim shorts you’re wearing will weigh a ton later since the boys’ splashing has gotten them so wet, but Eddie’s such a pro at taking your clothes off that he could use a little challenge this time.
Luke and Ryan manage to find games to play in the small pool—after Luke’s failed attempt at Marco Polo, anyway. Toy boats glide through the water, a few of them on the grass from flying overboard. The two boys shout but they’re outside and having fun, and it’s nice to hear.
The sound of the back door slamming shut reaches you as you tilt your head back, protected from the sun by Ryan’s thoughtful gift and the sunglasses you grabbed when you got changed. Eyes closed, you listen to footsteps in the grass as Eddie walks your way from the house. They come to a stop and you sense as he crouches down next to you. Lazily, you loll your head to the side and crack your eyes open.
“How’re my girls?” Eddie asks, placing his right hand over the soaked red shirt covering your baby bump.
“Mmm, good,” you hum. “She’s very happy you bought strawberry shortcake bars.”
“I’m glad she liked them,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “What about you, princess? How do you feel?”
You pretend to consider his question for a moment before speaking.
“Kiss me?”
You pucker your lips and there’s no hesitation as your husband leans in and gently presses his own against yours.
“Perfect. Now I’m perfect.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#older!eddie#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#dad!eddie#AYW#AYWS#request
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horses are still overrated
pairing jeong yunho x f!reader
word count 2k
genres fluff﹒smut
warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, established relationship, mentions of voyeurism, dirty talk, marking-ish, mutual masturbation, kissing, slight cum eating shhhhh don’t say anything, pet names: baby, babe, princess
summary new relationships always have room for experimenting, and well, you and yunho are no exception.
more ok so i tried doing these in ask format but i didn’t like it so we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming with a little update :P anyway,, this was for this request! it’s meant to be an extension of save a horse, ride a cowboy but can totally be read as a standalone! i kinda strayed from the initial req, but i hope this is still good… it’s still yunho day so <3 ALSO @bro-atz thank u for betaing my love i appreciate u so big!! pls reblog if u enjoyed!
@atzhouse
The few weeks that have passed since you and Yunho have confessed to each other have been nothing short of blissful.
He makes you feel like you’re soaring, ensuring that your happiness is the top priority. He embraces you in a way that’s not only physical, but emotional too. Like his feelings for you are their own special hug of warmth that envelopes you when you need it most. You could never get tired of him, could never return to your life back home like this summer never happened.
Because in all honesty, this summer was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you.
You have a small smile on your face as you reminisce about the wonderful time you’ve spent here so far, leaning back into the bench on the farmhouse porch. Initially, you were sitting here to openly gawk after Yunho as he rounded up the cattle, but now you were too giddy to pay attention to that. You don’t notice him walking towards you directly, Yeoreum tailing behind him.
“What’s got you so cheesy today?”
You blink at his question, feeling a bit bashful. You’ll never get used to this view. “I was just thinking about us, and how happy you make me.”
“That’s cute,” he mirrors your expression, one hand on the back of the bench to hold his weight and the other coming up to cup your jaw, lips pecking yours gently. “Ready for dinner?”
“I have a confession to make,” you start as you’re washing the dishes after dinner.
“What’s up?” Yunho asks you from the other side of the kitchen, putting away the leftovers. He shuts the refrigerator and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest. You swallow thickly.
“I’ve just had this on my chest for so long and I need to get it off before I explode,” you ramble, avoiding his eyes as you scrub a plate. “Promise you won’t judge?”
“I promise,” he chuckles, and you can hear his footsteps as he gets closer. “I won’t judge you.”
Your sigh comes out as more of a shudder, Yunho’s arms wrapping around your middle and his chin resting on your shoulder. The new proximity makes you ten times more nervous to say your piece, your heart beating erratically behind your rib cage. This is fine. This is great actually. (No it’s not!)
“Do— um— do you remember the day before Seojun and I broke up?” Your hands are trembling slightly.
“When you gave Yeoreum a bath, right?” He nods, the movement bothering you slightly because it has his chin digging into your shoulder uncomfortably. “What about it?”
”So…” You have to pause the dishes, your hands clamming up so much that you think the handle of your sponge will fly out of your grasp. “That night, when my lightbulb went out, I actually went out to go grab you. But— uh— I saw something… else… instead…”
Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely too mortified to even think about what his reaction could be. It’s been a minute since the ordeal played out, so really you didn’t have to say anything. Part of you felt like you couldn’t continue this relationship in good conscience without being totally honest, though.
Strong hands wrap gently around your wrists, turning you around to face him. He tsks, “Open your eyes, princess.”
His eyes are soft, no hint of disappointment or disgust on his features as he stares back at you. His lips curl into a smug smile after a couple seconds, cupping your jaw and caressing your cheek with his thumb. You blink at him, a little confused by the shift in atmosphere, but not complaining.
“You’re not—?”
“You watched me fuck my fist, is that right?” Yunho asks so bluntly, so vulgarly. “Tell me, what did you do after that?”
It’s easy to divert your gaze again, focusing on how interesting the material of his button up suddenly is. It’s one thing to admit that you stood there and watched for a bit, it’s another to admit you stuffed yourself with your own fingers not even fifteen minutes later. But you think he already knows that, based on your behavior and some good ol�� context clues.
“I… I touched myself,” you whimper, ashamed of how you’re getting turned on. The worst part is the fact that he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying the way he has you folding for him so quickly. “To the thought of you…”
Yunho’s grip on your chin tightens and his eyes flutter shut with a groan. “Fuck, baby, that’s so hot…”
You weren’t sure how this would go, and a piece of you genuinely thought he might even end things with you. Any other person would think you were sick and perverted, but not him. It makes you feel a lot better and a lot more secure in your relationship.
Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth, grazing the pad of his thumb. He hisses, cursing under his breath, letting you wrap your lips around and suck the finger. Yunho stares with not a single coherent thought behind his eyes. He’s losing his composure, pressing his thumb down on your tongue.
“Do you think you can tell me? How exactly did you touch yourself?” He purses his lips, his free hand slipping into the opening of your overalls, dragging his finger along the exposed skin of your waist. You shake your head with a whine.
”Yun… That’s embarrassing…”
He pulls his hand out of your overalls, hooking the digit into your belt loop and yanking you closer. His mouth is dangerously near your own, lips brushing yours when he speaks. “I wanna know. Need to picture my pretty princess fucking herself desperately ‘cause her fingers aren’t enough to get her off.”
Your legs feel like jelly, your cunt clenching around nothing just by his words alone. Yunho had always done such a good job at being the sweet and doting partner everyone wanted. He was attentive, praised you like you were a living, breathing goddess. But this dirty side of him is different. And you like it a lot more than you should.
“O-Okay…” You swallow thickly, and suddenly he’s spinning you so his chest is to your back. He urges you towards the bedroom, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking the supple skin gently, tenderly.
”Go on,” he says between kisses, still pushing you until you’re standing in the middle of his room. Your eyes already feel heavy and you haven’t done anything yet. “Tell me.”
”I— um— I thought about your hands and how big they are,” your tone is shaky, and you hope you don’t sound stupid. “Thought about how good it would feel to have them all over me. I pictured that it was your fingers inside of me. Imagined your cock, and how big it is.”
“Is that so? I’m just not getting the visual, babe. I think I need you to show me.” He hums, a hint of amusement in his voice. As if this couldn’t get more embarrassing, now he wants you to finger yourself in front of him? You’re about to protest, but he’s pressing your lower back to the mattress and talking against the corner of your mouth again, teasing you because he knows he can. “If you’re good for me, I’ll fuck you so well, you won’t be able to forget the shape of my cock.”
You nod with a whimper, hopping onto the bed and scooting all the way up to the pillows. Your hands are wobbly as you undress yourself, unbuckling your overalls and kicking them off your feet. Of course you chose the worst day to dress the part. Yunho sits at the edge, watching you with an unreadable expression.
When you’re in nothing but your top and panties, he clears his throat, leaning back onto his palms. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Move your underwear to the side for me, princess. Let me see your pretty pussy.”
It’s almost impossible to hold back a moan, following his instructions. You glide your middle finger through your folds, showcasing how you’re practically dripping for him in the amount of time it’s taken you to get from the kitchen to here. He exhales through his nose, legs spreading to give you a glimpse of an uncomfortable looking bulge in his pants.
You sigh deeply at the sight, circling your finger around your clit slowly. The thought of being the cause behind it, of getting Yunho so hot and bothered, drives you crazy and has you curling your toes.
“Just like that,” he encourages, tossing his denim button up to the floor. He palms over his erection, tilting his head slightly. “Can you do some more for me?”
“Mhm,” is all you can manage to force out, doing what he asked. You shove your ring and middle fingers inside of yourself, finally releasing a moan at the intrusion. You keep pressure on your clit with the heel of your palm. There’s silence between you save for the occasional whine.
Yunho shivers, shimmying out of his pants so he can stroke himself freely. You gawk at him with bated breath, biting your lip as your fingers pick up their pace. There’s a knot that settles in the pit of your stomach, tightening and tightening in preparation for that special moment.
The view of him spread out in front of you, fucking up into his hand with hooded eyes trained on your own playing with your cunt, is too much. He’s wearing that same godforsaken white tank top as he was the night you saw him, the muscles in his forearm and bicep flexing with each twist of his wrist, each pump of his cock.
You feel like you’re drooling, ogling at him like he was a piece of meat. But you couldn’t help it. Yunho was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. The longer you stare, the further you fall. That’s a conclusion you’ve come to a little too late.
“‘M close, Yun,” you moan, arching your back off of the pillows, head almost clunking against the headboard. “Wanna cum with you.”
“I’m almost there, too, baby,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he runs his thumb over his slit. That has a loud whine spilling from your lips, your feet digging into the mattress. You don’t know how much longer you can last.
Your fingers try to reach that spongy, sensitive spot deep in your cunt, but you can’t. It seems that only Yunho’s long, thick fingers could accomplish that feat. No wonder you were so obsessed with his hands.
You opt for using the fingers of your free hand to swipe quickly at your clit while the others curl and thrust into you, inching you toward that steep cliff that has stars decorating your vision. Judging by the volume of his sounds getting higher and higher, you can tell Yunho’s right there with you.
One particular absentminded curse from him has your brain short circuiting, that promise of release washing over you almost violently. Your body aches and quivers, orgasming harder than you ever had just with your own hand. (You’d like to think the presence of a certain cowboy had everything to do with it.)
He groans and follows behind shortly after, painting his hand in milky white. The two of you try to catch your breaths, laying there for a couple moments to recuperate. After a while, Yunho leans over to kiss you gently, squeezing your cheeks with his cum covered hand. You scrunch your nose.
“You’re getting it on my face!”
“That was the goal,” he laughs, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips. You roll your eyes, licking away whatever was near your mouth. He groans again. “Fuck, are you trying to kill me? Purposely?”
“Maybe,” you shrug. “I remember being told you’d fuck me if I did good for you. Where’s my reward?”
“Trust me, I didn’t forget.”
© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#atzhouse#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez jeong yunho#ateez yunho#ateez yunho x reader#ateez yunho smut#jeong yunho x reader#jeong yunho smut#yunho x reader#yunho smut#yunhoszn#📮 — reqs
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hi!! for your cillian requests what about jonathan crane w/ aphrodisiac :3
Hello! Sure thing, dear!!
The Conference
◇ Pairing: professor!Jonathan Crane x student fem!Reader
◇ Warnings: smut, dark, creampie, handjob, protected and raw sex, mean and sub Jonathan, Dom and sub Y/n, dub-con. (there's a lot of things in this fic)
◇ Summary: Dr.Jonathan Crane uses an aphrodisiac on himself and his poor favourite student has to help him.
◇ Note: This really may be one of the longest fic I ever written. It's also an amazing collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989. Well..Enjoy.
Darkness enveloped his surroundings as he moved closer towards the chemistry labs. The clicking of his shoes was the only sound he could hear, his footsteps echoing through the long corridor. He moved slowly and gracefully, his every move being a careful measure in an otherwise dim location.
As he got closer to the chemistry lab, the door appeared open, lights lit up the room inside, and he wondered if his favourite student was still working.
His icy eyes moved down as his slender fingers pulled slightly up the sleeve of his suit so that he could check the time, 2:00 am he read silently before something quickly caught his attention.
There she was, in all her glory, his little pet, his favourite student, busy with her phone. All the materials and objects she had used were still scattered on the table, she was also still wearing the white lab coat even though her focus was clearly elsewhere.
Crane tutted silently, a mischievous grin stretched on his pink lips. Y/N had her back towards the door, oblivious to the fact that she wasn't alone in the lab anymore. Jonathan watched her carefully, noticing the light swaying and slumped shoulders caused by her tiredness. Perfect
After a moment he stalked closer, his perfectly polished black shoes moved soundlessly against the concrete floor without attracting her attention. Her small, fragile frame allowed him to easily peak over her shoulder, watching the compounds scattered on the table. A quick glance was enough to make him smirk again, as he recognized the familiar, violet but alluring mixture.
”So hardworking.” He suddenly spoke up right by her ear, causing her to squeak, startled. Y/N turned around, eyes wide in surprise as she put hand on her chest in an attempt to calm down her pounding heart.
”Professor Crane” She breathed out with relief, looking at him. For a moment the only sound filling the air was her deep breathing, before she straightened her back, looking up at him. ”I lost track of time and… and I'm almost finished with my project.” She explained with flushed pink, slightly ashamed that she overused his kindness staying in his lab for so long. Crane just nodded with understanding before he gestured towards the mixture, focusing back on her face.
”Have you checked the clearance?” His voice was low, serious tone echoing through the room accompanying his emotionless expression. Distracted by his face, she blinked a couple times. ”a… a clearance?” Y/N repeated foolishly, completely not knowing what he was talking about.
Did I miss something? She wondered, as the sudden wave of anxiety tightened the knot in her stomach.
”Yes. Have you checked it yet?” His blue eyes gazed into hers so intensely, that she couldn't focus properly. Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she shook her head feeling like a child in trouble.
”N-no, I haven't.. yet.” She replied quietly, acting like she knew what he was talking about. Jonathan had a hard time restraining his laugh, but he managed to keep his poker face. Nodding along, he shifted to the side.
”Alright, go on then. Hold it up to the light and look at the consistency.” He instructed in a harsh, teacher tone. Y/n brushed a strand of hair away from her face nodding, before she grabbed the mixture, feeling her Atelophobia kicking back in.
Holding it in the right hand, she held it up to inspect what her professor requested; a visible light shaking of her limbs made Jonathan’s blank face crack for a split second, allowing the switch to a devious smile that disappeared as soon as it came. Just perfect
Almost too easy, the psychology professor thought, his focused, predatory stare remained on the back of her exposed neck, his tongue darting to escape and wet his plumpy lips. In the process of waiting for the most appropriate time to act.
Jonathan maintained his predatory stare, not letting Y/n quivering limbs or trembling form escape from his sights. It was almost as if he was savouring the buildup, knowing that the effects of the aphrodisiac as soon as it will be taking complete control over his body— such a perfect scenario to be able to take advantage of the vulnerable state his naive student will be in.
The professor felt his heartbeat quicken and his breath became heavier and shallower. It was as though he was becoming swept up in the moment as well.
”Is… is it good, Dr. Crane?” She asked in a shaky voice, standing two feet away from him, stretching her hands holding the mixture up to the light. Jonathan’s pupils widened slightly as arousal already started working in his body, adrenaline pumping in his veins.
”Closer” He commanded quietly, watching her feet as she shifted towards the lamp hanging lowly from the ceiling. ”I said closer,” His voice became more harsh, more commanding the second time, startling her visibly. Y/n took a step, and as soon as she wanted to take the other one, her shoe caught on Crane’s foot which appeared out of nowhere on her path.
A choked gasp left her mouth as she lost her balance, arms getting in the defensive position to minimise the damages in case of a fall. The little glass bottle fell out of her hand, hitting her professor in the shoulder before the content of it splashed on his neck and face, covering his skin in the weird fluid.
As soon as it made contact, his body started tingling in an almost…pleasant way. Y/n’s body froze as Jonathan inhaled deeply, Adam's apple bobbing up and down visibly on his pale neck.
Putting on his best acting skills, Crane’s face became red from the anger; despite the horrified look on her face, he fought against his amusement to keep the mask on.
Huffing with anger he shook his head, trying to get as much fluid off of him as he could or rather trying to spread it better, moving frantically and suddenly. Appearing enraged, he slowly made his plan come true. Studying psychology for long years, he knew exactly what body language put on to be convincing enough.
”Fuck!” He barked angrily, taking off the jacket with a huge stain on the shoulder. ”What the fuck did you do!” He yelled, turning to face her. His eyebrows furrowed at her frozen state, when she stood not moving, eyes teary and lips parted in shock. Crane couldn't help but notice how her hands trembled more.
Jonathan's anger turned into scolding as he continued to act mad, pretending to be absolutely furious with his poor tired student. He had to be completely convincing, for he wasn't really upset in the slightest.
"How could you be so careless?!" Jonathan asked, his voice filled with fake anger and disappointment "Don't you know how dangerous that is?! Haven't I taught you anything at all?" he added, scoffing at her still shocked self.
Jonathan could feel the strange liquid begin to seep down his skin, the sensation an eerie and disturbing one for him. His expression became neutral for a split second, before Y/N finally moved, getting his attention.
”I-I’m… I'm sorry I… I don't know what happened, I-I… I didn't mean to…” She stuttered out, trying to explain herself and her clumsiness, completely unaware of the fact that she was only a puppet in his evil psychotic show.
”It doesn't matter!” His voice boomed through her attempts of apologising properly. Y/n’s shoulders slumped, as she wanted to cover herself from shame, her body completely tense.
Her heart was beating wildly, she could already feel the familiar tingling sensation caused by the negative emotions and the guilt, which was eating her.
She was familiar with these emotions but still had difficulty mastering them, even though she had to...she didn’t want to make the situation worse with her still furious professor— risking that way to look even more pathetic as she fell into the vortex of stress that often ended in a painful and long panic attack.
Y/n wasn’t in the right situation or in the right place to give in to her fears and weakness, not even if the knot in her throat was making it pretty hard for her to breathe correctly. Focus she thought to herself, forcing her shiny eyes to snap back towards Jonathan’s face. Her nostrils slightly dilated and her jaw tightly clenched as if it would have helped her to let everything in and not show what she was actually feeling at that moment.
”I have a conference in…” He pulled his sleeve up revealing the expensive watch on his wrist, checking the time again. ”...an hour! Look what you did!” He pointed at the huge stain before scratching the itchy skin on the back of his neck. ”Fuck it starts working.” He breathed out heavily with a huff.
At this point her face became teary, her breath getting heavier, her chest tight, and Jonathan couldn't be more happy from how well his plan was going. ”You are going to take me out of that state, and better do it fucking fast, unless you want me to talk to the principal about your lack of basic skills!” He spat out harshly, looking how wheels turned in her head before she gasped quietly at the realisation that… she didn't know exactly what the antidote was.. besides… sexually relieving the victim— since she based her whole experiment on Poison Ivy’s sex pollen.
”Are you deaf?” He mocked, looking down at her with a stern facial expression, making Y/n finally snap out of her realisation; her body moving and turning back to the desk as she rummaged through the notes and components, trying to quickly find a solution as she read through her neat handwriting holding the papers with a shaky hand— her mind on the edge of panicking.
Jonathan stood behind her, watching the desperation visible through her every move, he could clearly tell that her head was running miles. Suddenly his smirk started fading as the aphrodisiac fully penetrated his skin, getting to his nerves and beginning to work its magic. His pupils widened, icy blue irises almost invisible at this point. His breathing increased, skin started sweating more as his muscles clenched and relaxed alternately, causing him to lean back on the counter.
Heavy sigh left his lips getting her attention, but she didn't dare to look at him for a longer moment. Up until he rolled his sleeves up, his veiny hand rubbed his arms, trying to relieve the stingy feeling all over his body before reaching down and rubbing up his crotch desperately, feeling the uncomfortable tension. Burning
Y/n’s eyes quickly fixed on her professor, studying his desperate state as she kept feeling guilty. Was it really her fault? She shouldn’t have worked on that project of hers in Dr. Crane’s lab and left her work-in-progress there at that hour, she should have brought it home or at least… paid more attention when her professor just tried to help her.
That’s what Jonathan wanted her to think.
The helpless expression on his face covered snugly the satisfaction in his icy, blue eyes. The poor girl, he thought, watching the worry and guilt in her gaze. He gulped loudly, panting dramatically as his pale and freckled skin flushed due to the effects of the strong aphrodisiac she….well, he spilled on himself.
A thing that he didn’t plan though, were the pretty strong and painfully annoying effects that Y/N included in the project, due to the limited knowledge about chemical compounds, not reaching the level of her brilliant professor.
Jonathan's body was on fire. All his senses seemed to heighten, and hot burning pierced his skin in places that he never felt before.
Breathing deeply he tried to slow down his racing heart, muscle pounding so fast and hard that he would be worried if not the uncontrollable thoughts; his freckled, pale skin ached for a gentle or any touch. He didn’t really care, he just wanted… no— needed Y/n on him, all over him, doing unforgivable things to his needy body.
His whole body felt tingly and numb at the same time, and he was struggling to keep his thoughts straight with all the rushing hormones— that’s when he started to move unconsciously, just when Y/n turned back towards the desk again, trying to ignore the state he was in, looking so… needy and so desperate.
The poor student didn’t even have the time to register what was happening, she just felt a tight grip on her hips and in a couple of seconds she was pressed harshly, flat against the lab table— an almost animalistic panting against the back of her neck and Jonathan’s body lying on her, nearly crushing her ribcage on that wooden surface. Her breath knocked out at the sudden action.
“Fuck” Dr. Crane grunted, grounding his hips as his hands kneaded roughly on her breasts, since he cupped them before, managing to bend her down. He felt like an animal in heat at that moment, so desperate and so blind in front of the lust that was taking over his whole body.
His hips kept moving as if following a rhythm, his cock pressing against the front of his pants in a pleasant but still painful way— his hands still groping harshly Y/n’s round chest, pressing and pulling while also kneading with need and hidden satisfaction. They are as soft as they look Crane thought in his moment of pure desperation.
”Wh-what are you doing?” Y/n squealed, pinned to the desk with his weight.
”Shhh.. I… I need it.” He moaned out, but slowly grinding on her ass wasn't enough. His angrily hard cock throbbed in his pants, relentlessly demanding immediate attention. He was getting frustrated with how little she was cooperating, and it felt like fire was blowing his veins. His skin was burning and itching as he whined lowly, dropping his head on her shoulder with a huff.
”Touch me” He hissed out, pulling her up and turning around to face him. She remained pressed against him, but her hands were still, not moving or getting near his needy, aching body. He was losing his mind. ”F…fucking please” Jonathan cried out finally, when his cock started pulsing painfully in his briefs.
Y/n took a deep breath, trying to keep her own lust and nervousness on a leash.
Rubbing her thighs together she hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice cracking in an almost pathetic way...if Jonathan wouldn’t have been in that situation with that mindset he would have probably mocked her “P-Pull it out, Prof-”. She stopped quickly, a new battle starting inside of her head, how was she supposed to call him? She couldn’t for sure refer to him with his qualification.
Dr. Crane had other intentions apparently, he didn’t let her think much about that…too eager to have her whole attention back on him and his now leaking cock. Standing proudly against his flat stomach was a thick, long member. The veins wrapped around it stick out even more than usually, as it throbbed impatiently. Cold air was enough to make him hypersensitive as he mewled, touching the tip and spreading precum on it. Red colour of his skin revealed how much he needed the release.
At the sight Y/n jumped slightly not expecting Jonathan to be so forward, just standing there… so close to her, holding his shaft as he moved closer to her in an attempt to probably seduce her and make her finally touch him like he had begged her for. The psychology professor managed to take another step before a loud slap echoed in the quiet room, his mind too fogged to realise immediately what she did but the stingy sensation on his cheek made it clear. He could have been mad but just the contact of her bare skin against his made him whine desperately, his eyes blow out in pure need and submission. He would have done anything….literally anything to finally have his release with her help.
Y/n's breathing had become more elaborate, her body was full of adrenalin at that moment which allowed her to act instinctively and impulsively, although it was better to work through the whole situation with a clear and rational mind.
Come on, the young student yelled in her head, gulping softly as she moved her gaze slowly back down to take a peek at her professor’s cock. Do it, just do it, she repeated, nodding slightly to herself before moving her tiny hand closer to the throbbing cock, gathering the courage to grab it, but before she'd manage to do so, Jonathan pushed his hips forward impatiently, forcing her hand in the worst way.
Y/n looked up immediately, anger sizzling in her eyes at his unhinged behaviour. As soon as he tried to make her grab it again, her other hand made contact with his flushed cheek in a harsh slap. Crane’s lips parted in surprise, as he felt a drip of blood going down his chin from his lower lip.
”One more time, and I'll tie you up and leave you alone. All needy and crying” She warned with a scolding tone, Jonathan’s expression reminded her one of a kicked puppy; it was nearly distracting, his gaze so focused on her was hypnotic and the way his plumpy lips kept softly trembling was entertaining as he breathed deeply, almost like he was about to cry.
A deep breath broke the silence that had been surrounding them after the slap, the young student nodded slightly before finally letting Jonathan rest his heavy member on her open hand. Her eyes focused on the task and on the cock in front of her, she could feel it twitch every time her acrylic nails brushed against the prominent veins.
Her breath was heavier, not like Crane’s was— he was panting like an animal in heath just craving..no, needing her touch. His icy eyes staring at her hand while tears started forming in them, he could feel his stomach tightener at every second that passed. He didn’t even dare to speak, afraid to scare her or just piss her off, making her slow movements come to a stop— he couldn’t let it happen, not now that her small feminine hand was finally reaching the angry red tip of his cock.
Y/n moved her wrist, gulping softly before finally wrapping her fingers around it trying to give it a testing pump staring with wide eyes how the foreskin followed her movement, exposing more the leaking tip “Shit” Jonathan cursed in a hiss, letting out a choked sob before ordering her with a shaking voice “Spit on it, you little slut”.
The poor man was feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac more and more, he could feel them crawl all over his body making it difficult for him to breath normally or think straight, a thin layer of sweat was already covering his flushed skin.
Her professor’s hand snatched hers, motiving it quickly closer to his handsome face as if he wanted to kiss it, ending up spitting on her palm catching completely off guard; her pretty face slowly twisted in a grimace of uncomfortable disgust.
After a couple of seconds passed… where she didn’t do nothing, Jonathan bad temper snapped again, his mean part coming out “Fuckin’ touch it already!” he screamed in her face, catching her off guard for the second time in a row, his hips moving forward as his hand held her smaller one wrapped back around his length. His hips established a rhythm to relieve his pain…his free hand flying to cup her breast after nearly ripping off the lab coat she had still tidily on. How long is it going to last?
Consequently Jonathan's outburst, Y/n allowed him to continue to seek the pleasure he so badly needed, an expression of disgust still present on her face. His panting was quite disturbing now, she could feel the warmth of it and of his whole body that clearly looked like it was on fire and it kind of worried her. All her fault, that’s all your fault, she kept repeating to herself as she tried to find a solution… a way to help the man that was standing in front of her, moaning like a pornstar just for her.
“O-Okay, Dr. Crane I-I….” she started, her voice shaking softly as she tried to speak with him— but he wasn’t listening at all, too busy in the activity he was engaged with. Y/n’s heart pounded, the unusual and somehow odd situation causing adrenaline to rush through her veins. She was lost in how to properly handle the situation, but one glance at him was enough to decide. Anger and desperation was filling his icy gaze, eyes cloudy and focused on his cock as she stroked it. Annoyance appeared in her mind at how easily influenced she was for him, as she huffed with anger.
You want me to touch you? I fucking will then, she thought, as her hand gripped his manhood harder, stroking it harsher as the other hand rested on his chest.
Jonathan felt almost deaf, his heart beating so fast and hard that it could be heard from any part of his body…he was feeling like on a rollercoaster, adrenaline rushing and filling his slender self.
As soon as Y/n started to feel Jonathan’s grip on her hand become less tighter, freeing her caged hand, she removed it completely in a quick motion. Feeling it, Jonathan's head lolled back with a high pitched, desperate groan. A choked cry pushed past his lips at the lack of stimulation. He didn't expect her to do it, his lips parted as he tried to breathe but his lungs burned, just like his skin that started heating up and itching again. His legs started shaking as a couple tears streamed down his face, but Y/n wasn’t as fazed by his state anymore, and she just wiped her palm on his white shirt, not really caring that he had an important meeting in just… thirty minutes.
“Strip” the young woman ordered with a simple word, not adding anything else. Her expression was stern and kind of pissed, she was tired and this was taking too long for her. She was also ready to take any decision or precaution to be able to get over this.
“I said fucking strip, you brainless slut” the student repeated, raising her voice just like Jonathan had done earlier, screaming at him the respect that was pulling her back now completely gone. There was still nervousness in her body, she was shaking a bit because of the different emotions present. To her surprise Dr. Crane started to take off his expensive suit, replying to her stern tone and insult with a pathetic whine… she could have kicked him in the face at that moment and he would have just licked her sole, whimpering and shaking for her.
As Jonathan peeled all the fabric off his body, watching it drop on the floor, the cold air hit his overwarm body, his nipples erect just like his hair which were standing due to the shiver and the goosebumps, Y/n couldn’t stop watching him move like a puppet.
Her hands moved on their own, resting on his warm, pale and freckled chest… caressing in slow motions his skin as her eyes moved slowly across his naked self— it felt nice, it relieved the burning and stingy sensation Jonathan kept feeling but it wasn’t enough. Just when he was about to say something, to plead, whine and whimper, she used all her strength to push him away from her.
His body stumbled, hitting the nearest object that was right behind him which happened to be a chair… a iron, cold tiny chair that made him hiss as soon his skin made contact with it completely. His hairy pale thighs spread open, twitching due to the coldness of the surface, just like his back that arched in such a pathetic way.
“Fucking told you that I would have tied you down, you wasted your second chance, Dr. Crane” Y/n warned him, murmuring mostly to herself as she started to tie down his limbs, making sure to make a tight knot so that he really couldn't move without her wanting him to.
His heart kept racing, his body was in such a state that it just kept leaning towards Y/n’s every time she moved slightly closer as she fixed the ropes.
The young woman took a step back, admiring silently the desperate and subby state Crane had fallen in, his mouth open as he panted like a wild animal, his body trembling softly as his cock kept twitching and aching for relief.
She took a step forward this time, Jonathan’s eyes fixed on her as his head remained hanging low, he couldn’t tell what she was doing by all that wiggling but he discovered soon since he found himself with her wet thong in his mouth, his spit wetting it even more. She was bare, she was finally bare under the skirt she had on, he thought… his body still and tensed, too afraid to even move a muscle.
Her hands rested on his shoulders, her smaller body towering over his sitting position. Her finger interwoven with his black locks, he could feel her acrylic nails massage teasingly his scalp— it was gentle and carrying.. before she got a better hold on his hair and pulled at them harshly.
“Don’t come too fast, because I won't stop until I finish, got it?” his favourite student warned as she carefully straddled him, her bare wet pussy now pressing against his throbbing leg.
Earning just a choked moan from Crane she started to grind slowly on it, pressing her body closer to his to find the right angle were her clit would have been touched correctly. Their eyes remained locked all the time, even if Jonathan kept occasionally rolling his eyes back because of the pleasure, his gathering spit slowly dripping down on his chest.
Condoms, Y/n thought quickly, her eyes growing wide as her breath increased “Do you have a condom?” she asked, knowing well that he couldn’t really reply to her with the cloth stuck in his mouth— his eyes just moved, following her movements as she decided to turn around, now her round cheeks gifted him with some relief as she grabbed his pants and started searching for anything there. Condoms, pills, some kind of protection. Finding just a tiny bottle of lube with his initials on it.
“Oh, you pervert. Bet you use it to jerk yourself of” she mocked, moving back in the straddling position, her hands following the form of his nose, down to his plumpy lips “Guess no relief then, huh” she murmured, watching him carefully. She sure found Dr. Crane attractive and she would have lied if she said that she never had impure thoughts on him or just a need to try and feel how his lips tasted. She could now.
Her eyes remained on his open lips for a couple of seconds before she leaned in, removing harshly her thong from his mouth, earning a meowing sound from Crane, which died down as soon as her lips pressed against his.
Her tongue entered his mouth easily, making them entwine into a deep and sensual dance, exploring each other's mouths and teasing with delight. Their bodies were more pressed up against each other, her soft hands remained wrapped around his neck to feel his Adam apple bobbing as he gulped.
In that moment of pure passion, something fell from the pocket of her blouse, dropping right on Jonathan’s lower stomach “Guess you have luck by your side today, Professor” Y/n praised as soon as she broke the kiss, watching their split still link them in a hot and sensual way. She moved her hands from his neck and grabbed the condom she had in her pocket without knowing…using her teeth to slowly open it while she grinded her hips against his.
The thong went back in Dr. Crane’s mouth as she stood back up to roll carefully the condom on his thick, long length, watching it wrap perfectly around his size “There we go” she whispered, using the lube she had found to prepare herself before finally sink down in a quick motion on his cock, her tight warm pussy clenching around him like a tight fit. Crane's head dropped down with a hiss at the tight squeeze, just like his jaw, the sensation that came so quick didn't let him time even try and control his imminent first orgasm. It was cruel, mean but Y/n was enjoying every part of it.
She didn't know how Jonathan managed to not shoot his load, filling up the condom, and signing that way the ending of that all. But he managed, so Y/n started to roll her hips slowly before increasing the speed to hear the pathetic sounds coming out of Crane's bruised mouth. He was moaning with each move, whining whenever she'd squeeze him too hard, or sink her nails in his skin.
She was bouncing, riding him as if he was a wild horse, her thighs pressed against each of his thighs, holding him down while she searched her own peak… not really carrying anymore of Jonathan's state.
”I honestly didn’t expect you to be that big” His student praised with a veiled insult, hissing into his ear. He wasn't even able to respond as the next deep stroke pushed him over the edge, as he cried out pulsing between her velvet-like walls. His hands thrashed, tied up, as the need to grab her hips while he'd fill the condom up with his hot cum. Y/n didn't care, and she kept moving over and over, chasing her own high with head tilted back as the pleasure fully consumed her mind and body. She wasn't even aware of the pace as she kept milking him despite his whiny cries, moving violently on his hypersensitive cock.
”F-fuck” He spat out, his voice still muffled, saliva dripping down his chin when his eyes rolled into the back of his head. More curses followed after the first that slipped from his lips, his body shaking uncontrollably as he felt the pleasure bult itself in his lower stomach. It was driving violently and forcefully like a train, about to go off the rails and hit him with all his force. The condom being filled for the second time by his seed, she kept going just like his load that kept being spilled without a stop. The amount of cum he could pump just minutes apart would usually impress her, if she wasn't so long gone in the maddening pleasure that his thick girth provided, stretching her out and pushing his way to her g spot with each thrust.
The pleasure he was giving her was making her slowly reach her own climax, turning her head in a foggy and drunk state of mind when she squeezed her eyes shut, as her cunt clenched down on his member, making it impossible to thrust despite the overflowing fluids splashing between them as she reached her peak, shaking and crying out as her muscles gone fully numb for a moment from the powerful orgasm that made her nearly squirt.
Only then did she realise that Crane was cumming as well, again, and she wouldn't care a bit, if it wasn't for the… thick, sticky fluid dripping down her thigh. Y/n’s eyes widened at the sensation, and she jumped off of him faster than she would ever anticipate, earning a loud strucked whimper from her professor.
“Look at what you did!” she yelled, a bit panicked from the situation she was in, his seed still dripping down her thighs even when she tried to push it out. Staring at his engorged cock, that was still twitching. Red and wet, laying on his thigh even though it was still very much hard. The condom that she previously put on him, now with a giant hole, halfway down his dick.
The role switched, now Crane was the one with tearful eyes and she was the one furious with him. What was she supposed to do? She thought to herself, cleaning her dripping pussy with the nearest cloth before meeting Jonathan’s icy eyes. He caused it… so it was only fair that he found a solution to that, just like she did earlier for her mistake.
After a deep breath the student moved closer to her professor, freeing him from his restrictions which made his pale freckled skin a bit sore and bruised, just before taking a step back “You need to find a solution for the mess yo—” she stopped mid sentence with a gasp, and his big slender hands grabbed her roughly, pushing her towards the white table.
He didn't hesitate, and his moves weren't thoroughly measured or rational, like his usual way to think and act. He was an.. animal with a fire in his baby blue eyes, as he smashed her down onto the desk, dropping test tubes and vials onto the ground.
Bent in half, Y/n couldn't do much besides reaching back to push him away in desperation, but it didn't help much as he twisted her arm, pushing it down while kicking her legs open, relentless in his motives.
”Shut up” He hissed out while reaching down to her heat, pushing his two fingers in as he checked how wet she was. Feeling his own cum leaking out of her, he grinned in the mischievous way, feeling how his veins were still on fire.
Pushing her head down into the desk, he kept her quiet while his big hand tangled into her soft hair. Without any further notice, he lined up the pulsing tip of his hard cock with her tight pussy, groaning loudly at the choked gasp that pushed past her lips as he filled her up.
”N-no!” She squealed while wiggling her hips to the side, struggling but still attempting to get away from him. ”I’m not on the pill!”
Crane's hand fell near her face, patting it mockingly before he shoved two fingers into her mouth, silencing her successfully.
”Shhhhh” He cooed with a grin, before he snapped his hips forwards making her cry out with him as his fat cock hit her cervix suddenly. She stopped moving as soon as the pain set in, and seeing it, Crane repeated his move laughing out when she squealed. The aphrodisiac was slowly wearing out, and he was more than happy to give her a lesson for teasing him.
“Fuckin’ take it” Jonathan murmured breathless, pressing his body against her back to keep her still while thrusting again before shooting more inside of her cunt, still moving as he groaned, biting her shoulder as he pumped some more of his semen into her.
Her body moved almost automatically as she hit his ribs with her elbow, catching him off guard and that way free herself a bit… enough that she could turn around to face him fully, her hand flying towards his face, slapping him across the face with the back of her hand. It didn’t really go like she was expecting, Jonathan just answered with a lustful moan and his hand moved roughly to her neck, taking a hold of it. Just resting at the beginning, as his pace picked up on a speed, his long fingers wrapped around her slim throat, squeezing it as he cut off the airflow while his hips slammed wildly against hers, leaving red marks. Her own hands kept fighting him as best she could, till the pace increased, allowing her just to scratch, claw and dig her fingernails in his pale skin, her eyes rolling back as his fat cock kept abusing her sweet spots without any kind of mercy.
They both were panting, their heartbeat beating like crazy in their chests and they both could hear it since Crane leaned closer, resting his sticky sweaty forehead against hers, breathing with his mouth against her lips— leaning roughly down a couple of seconds later to claim a feverish kiss. He stole Y/n’s much needed air and made her squirm more, even though she reciprocated the kiss, biting down harshly on his bottom lip drawing blood from it, which wet her own lips before dropping a bit on her flushed face as soon as Jonathan leaned back with a desperate whimper of pure, raw lust.
”Going to… to cum” He breathed out, his tone was back to the low one, filled with authority and dominance almost the same as the one he used during his lectures. If she could, she'd roll her eyes at the way he was back to being a cocky, commanding bastard... if it wasn't for the massive cock splitting her nearly in half. Her right hand moved away from him, diving down where they were connected to gather some of their arousal and rub her clit in quick motion, increasing the speed just in time. Her pussy clenched around his cock as her body spasmed softly because of the orgasm that just hit her whole body, she could feel Jonathan’s seminal fluid spill out of her cunt and slowly down on her ass and lab table.
It all stilled, their breathing was the only noise in that empty room “Y-Yo…Your conference, Dr. C-Crane” she reminded him breathless as she held back loud sobs caused by the pleasure and all the emotions that filled her smaller body.
Breathing deeply, he leaned back while running a hand through his hair as he chuckled.
”Right. The Conference.”
Taglist:
@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys, @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989
#jonathan crane smut#jonathan crane oneshot#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane cillian murphy#jonathan crane#jonathan crane x y/n#jonathan crane x you#cillian murphy fanfic#cillian murphy fic#cillian murphy#cillian fic#cillian murphy smut#cillian x reader#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian x y/n#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x reader
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Hi!! I have huge baby fever rn (mainly for Spencer) and was wondering if you would do dad!Spencer or spencer x pregnant reader, just fluff bc I love Reid. Feel free to ignore it you don't want to :)
The playground || [dad!Spencer Reid x f!reader]
A/N: Thanks for the request. Spencer would be an amazing dad so this was fun to write. Though also a bit of a challenge. I hope you enjoy it. Also look at me adding more pictures. Doing the most out here.
Tags: fluff, pregnancy mention, dad Spencer, reader has a daughter, using children to trap your significant other, no y/n.
Word count: 1.2K
It was early spring as you sat on the park bench. Still wrapped up in many layers of clothing to keep warm in the chill of the afternoon. The sun shone with a warm glow, making the exposed skin of your face heat up ever so slightly. A sigh of content escaped your lips as your eyes fell closed for a second. Enjoying the calmness of the moment that was joyfully interrupted by high pitched laughter that was practically music to your ears. Blinking your eyes open they landed on the little, 4 year old girl who was running around the playground structure being chased by the man you called yours. It had been your idea to head out that day to the park and enjoy the first rays of the spring sun. There had also been something keeping you busy. Spending time outside always makes you calm again.
Spencer was slightly bent down, trying to catch your little girl in a game of what seemed to be tag. A smile split your face as you watched his hair get ruffled by the wind as he almost caught your daughter, she skillfully dodged under the slide and out of his reach with a shriek. Samara, who looked so much like her father with the messy brown curls, big brown eyes that you would do anything for, and that smile full of joy. But her nose was yours, and the shape of her face, and oh that personality, she was mom’s girl after all. She took after you in the way she responded to people, she was kind, gentle and smart. Spencer scooped her up and you watched her writhe in his arms while laughing. “I got you! There’s no escaping now.” He laughed before spinning round and round. “No! Put me down!” She called between laughs and shrieks, her small, red scarf flapping around in their wake. You laughed at the sight, brimming with joy and love for them.
Spencer stopped spinning, he looked in your direction and you watched his chest heave slightly with each breath he took. The smile that crossed his face was blinding. You watched him crouch down, putting Samara on her feet and he got to eye level with her before whispering something inaudible to her. She nodded her head, a look of determination in her eyes as she wiped some of the stray curls out of her face. They were definitely plotting something. You got up from your seat with suspicion settling into your stomach. Something in you said it would be better to be upright and standing instead of in your seat. Spencer nodded his head and Samara came bounding over to you with Spencer in tow. There was a matching look on both their faces, one of feigned innocence. “What’s going on?” You asked, giving a sideways glance. “Oh, nothing.” Spencer answered as he snaked his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek gently. Warmth spreads through your body just from his touch, the butterflies still never left.
He pulled away and you watched him nod towards your daughter who full force tagged your leg, “You’re it.” She grinned as she ran away. Spencer’s arms around you left as quickly as he had pulled you close as he ran in the opposite direction from Samara. You gasped, standing in place as you had realized their plot to envelope you into their game of tag. Spencer being the distraction for your daughter to sneak up and tag without your complaint. “That’s playing dirty!” You exclaimed though the smile on your face betrayed your feigned upset. You quickly ran after Samara, knowing that their tactic of splitting up made you choose between who to go after first. Your daughter, with smaller legs, would be your first target. Already planning how to convince her to join in capturing Spencer later on.
Quickly catching up to the four year old was easy enough, letting her escape a few times to make it more fun for her. She clambered over different playground items, using her small stature to her benefit. She crawled into one of the tunnels, following close behind you finally caught up to her. Once you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close she let out another “Nooo!! Mom!!” while laughing as you kissed her cheeks repeatedly. “You’re it!” You said as you waited for her to stop squirming. The weight of her in your arms was absolutely right. She was getting bigger every week it seemed.
“You want to help me catch dad?” You whispered once she settled down. The competitive streak that you have clearly had rubbed off on her as she nodded her head yes. She clearly didn’t frown upon double crossing her dad if it meant winning at tag. “Do I need to tag dad again?” She asked, eyes big, voice soft and hushed just in case Spencer was close to hear. “Actually, I want you to distract him.” You responded with a smile, “Can you go up to daddy and tell him you’re going to be a big sister?” You asked her in a hushed tone. Samara’s eyes went wide and a grin broke out on her rounder face, “I am?” she asked surprised and excited at the same time. In turn you nodded your head yes.
You had found out three days ago, while Spencer was away on a case and when he had returned last night it wasn’t the right time to tell him. Now, using your first born daughter to tell him and to win a game of tag, that was the perfect time to tell him. “Go on, tell him.” Your arms unwrapped from her and she quickly scrambled out of the play tunnel calling for her dad. You crawled out with some struggle, crossing your arms as you watched as Spencer once again picked up the little girl. You dusted off your pants and jacket as you walked towards the two of them.
“What is it, princess?” Spencer asked, looking quizzically at her perhaps thinking you plotted against him. “I’m gonna be a sister! I’m gonna be a sister!” Samara spoke sing-songey as she settled in his arms. Spencer’s eyes widened and his head shot up to look at you. Eyes full of questions and surprise, the gears in his head going a 1000 miles a minute as he processed the news. Trying to decide whether it was real or not. You walked closer, a gentle smile on your lips as you kissed his cheek. “Are you-?” He asked hushed as you pulled away. “Yes, I am.” you whispered back earning you a kiss on the lips. Filled with joy, happiness and warmth. The butterflies in your stomach would probably not settle for the rest of the day.
You pulled away from the kiss gently, your hand reaching up and you pressed your finger to his chest. “And…” You watched him as he looked at you with baited breath, hanging onto every word that would come out of your mouth. Your lips curled into a smirk.
“Tag you’re it.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#dad spencer reid#pregnant reader
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☆ FRAGILE ☆
People appreciate beauty in many different ways. Some admire from afar , some praise. However , your roommates Gojo and Geto , we’re the kind that loves to step in pristine snow. The kind that like to taint beauty just for the fun of it.
Roommate!Satosugu x Virgin!reader. Blowjob , doggy style , virginity loss , name calling a bit. Fingering. Masterbation.
There was no doubt in your mind that the universe was punishing you for everything you had ever done when you got paired with Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo as roommates. Paired with the men whose names floated around campus like warnings of a ghost. They were cruel… according to everyone else. They were never cruel to you. So nice since you moved in , helping you unpack , making you a welcome meal , showing you around. Maybe the rumors were just rumors. Well , except for one , the one about them being hot… fuck were they hot. If that rumor weren’t true you wouldn’t be in the confines of your room desperately trying to make your fingers do something for you. Soft desperate whimpers stifled by the biting of your lip. Tears of frustration running down your cheek. “F-fuck I can’t do it “ you cried, a genuine small sob. Frustrated beyond belief, throwing yourself back into your pillow, moving your fingers around your clit desperately. That’s the only satisfaction you could give yourself.
Your body shot up at the sound of your door creaking. Eyes widening meeting shaded blue eyes. Gojo stood at your door frame, arms crossed , lips curled in amusement. He walked towards your figure. “ Hey Geto , come check this out “ you yelled into the living room. His booming voice snapping you out of your shock.” Oh um Gojo you're not supposed to be home” your voice shook as you frantically pulled your blanket over yourself only for it to be yanked away. “ and you’re not supposed to be touching yourself so horribly” Gojo sassed at you. Your silk nightgown rolled up to your hips and your cunt glisting , clenching around nothing. The sight making both males hard. Geto arrived in your room in no time , standing over your bed looking over to gojo who had scooped your wrist up. “No wonder you’re struggling slut .. fingers so tiny there useless “ he spat , passing your wrists onto geto before his fingers prodded at you gummy walls. Your head shot back , his fingers filled you up so easily, with no effort. It was honestly embarrassing. “F-fuck Gojo please~” you choked out , your legs moving. Not used to this stimulation. “ relax baby “ Geto cooed , spreading your legs nice and wide for Gojo, “ we just wanna help ~”
They helped you all right. Gave you everything they had. “ fuck your so tight baby-“ Geto grunted , his tip being sucked in by your cunt. “ Crazy , did I not stretch her out well enough?” Gojo asked incredulously “ swear lil virgin cunts never cease to amaze me” he sighed , grunting as your warm mouth enveloped him. “ she got such a good throat on her though!” he chuckled , his arms behind his head. With your shaking arms squashed beneath you, you moved your fingers to your clit , trying desperately to get off even more. Geto scoffed at you “ you still tryna use those useless things ?!” He asked , slapping your hands away. Your whine of disappointment turning into a moan as his warm fingers replaced yours. You could tell he knew what he was doing. He had a pattern , he was skilled. “ I’m not enough for you baby? , first time you're getting some dick but you're still so needy”. you let out a soft whimper on Satoru’s cock. Surprised you hadn’t choked with how it was hitting the back of your throat.
It was like they had a connection. With one look at each other they both matched up their paces. Your whimpers pitiful as your throat and cervix were hit at the same time. You finally choked on Satoru’s cock only to be forced back down and told to breathe through your nose. A task hard with his giant length. Your legs shaking violently as Geto pounded into you, unrelenting thrusts filling up your core. You felt yourself melt as warm liquid filled both of your holes. Letting a long moan ring against Gojo’s length. The two males grunting and panting as you whimpered. White spilling from your mouth and dripping from your cunt. The sound of exhaustion being broken by their words in unison “See pretty girl.. we helped you!” They smiled. There was another rumor , that they were amazing at sex.. you were so glad to know that rumor was true also.
#jjk smut#jjk#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#satosugu#gojou satoru x reader#jjk satoru#satorugojo#geto x reader#geto smut#jujutsu geto#jjk geto#geto suguru#gojo#satosugu smut#satoru x reader#satosugu x reader#stsg#geto suguru smut#suguru geto#getou suguru x reader#suguru geto smut#jjk suguru#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut
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iii - just say that you need me
javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts
summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.
chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.
text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi
You should say yes more.
to you or to my pop
To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me.
you sure about that
I’d bet my next paycheck on it.
for you I’ll say yes to him once
Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was
shit. going with the hard hitting questions today
Just getting you to share, open up
probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live
They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.
baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop
I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question
she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar
Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.
yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either
So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it.
you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you
Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will.
thanks, what’s yours?
Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.
he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up
You haven’t seen me, remember
statement still stands
Stop being so charming.
you still eating
No.
then I can flirt
Most of the time, he ignores the mail.
Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.
The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.
This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream.
Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from.
His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again.
“Fuck.”
Folding it, he swallows.
Shit.
Motherfucker.
He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.
But it's there.
The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you.
It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it.
But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone.
There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.
so apparently talking to you is costly
Oh, you've had your bill.
I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it?
It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips.
He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.
This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.
Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.
yes just didn’t expect it
I had my phone bill the other day. I get it.
did your heart fall out your ass
No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month.
We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much.
would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you
You’re such a flirt.
He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined
Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie.
I remember don’t worry
He remembers as soon as you remind him.
Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted.
In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been.
Nice things do usually come with a tag.
you decided on sweet or salty
Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword?
if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day
You sure?
more than sure have a great time
“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”
He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t.
A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised.
“Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?”
Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”
“I’ll meet you at the truck?”
And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads.
When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks.
It’s performative.
The old version of him coming out from a hidden place.
Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too.
It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.
For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway.
After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.
He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.
Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it.
That is until his phone vibrated.
Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird.
His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.
Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:
not weird, you drunk
I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it.
good cause i miss you too
you never said how the movie was
As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.
that bad
Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly.
I’m sure they won’t mind
Depends on the length of my nails I guess.
some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations
You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi?
if the situation is right, yes
What about in your hair?
now who’s being a tease
I’m learning so much tonight.
and your putting images in my head
I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.
beautiful, you look beautiful
My face is burning.
your day been ok
Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough.
you want to talk about it
Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.
you do have two to make up to me
Best get giving me the clues then, Javi.
four letters, begins with f
Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword
baby, cmon
Fuck?
fork
someone’s in a dirty mood
You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue.
There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.
Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say.
Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.
An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).
The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.
Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before.
That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies.
morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee
He doesn’t expect to hear from you.
Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.
But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.
Even a little disappointed.
finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn
You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.
His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.
I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok
A part of him had worried this would happen.
That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.
He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.
And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.
Copious amounts, in fact.
Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.
hermosa I’m really getting worried now
He doesn’t want to call.
Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.
His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.
His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.
Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—
Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone.
shit hermosa, you scared me.
almost called you.
Really?
yeah
Would you?
what call you
Yeah?
[Dialing number…]
you declined
I did
His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets.
Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us.
Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.
Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate.
Staring, willing the phone to ring.
Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—
And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing.
His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook.
“Javi… that you?”
Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.”
Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead.
Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.”
“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”
“And a few more.”
He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.
“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?”
He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.
“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“
You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”
Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”
“Better, honestly.”
“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.”
“From when you were in Colombia?”
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…”
“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.”
“That so? Who’s flirting now.”
You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.
Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”
“Oh my god, Javi.”
He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.
"I'm wearing nothing."
"Hermosa, you tease."
You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.
"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."
"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."
You snort, "Javi, stop."
He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.
Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."
an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you
#javier peña x reader#javier peña#javier peña narcos#javi peña x reader#javi peña x you#javi pena#javier peña x you#narcos x reader#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javi pena x reader#narcos javier x reader#narcos javier#pedro pascal x reader#narcos fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier peña smut#javi peña smut#javier peña x reader smut#pedrostories#agent peña#javi peña#mm: late night texts
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[Thinking about L.T Price blurb]
(John Price x gender neutral!reader)(can be read as romantic or platonic!)
Summary: you were one of John's teammates from back in his Lieutenant days, despite being not worth anything to higher ups, he goes back for you.
Warnings: Implied age gap, also implied that you're smaller than him, I did not reread this, anything else I missed? Just lmk!
Words: 500-ish
Crying at the thought L.T Price saving you on a mission that goes sideways, everyone is telling him to leave, that it's not possibly worth it to risk his own life to save yours. He's a Lieutenant, he has a duty, to survive for the whole.
But when has he ever listened to higher ups when it comes to his men? He runs back in without a second thought.
So he rushes back in, moving in on your location, sliding to his knees to help you prop yourself up, arms grabbing at your arms to pull you towards him. You can't really make out what he's saying, not all of it at least, the shock rushing in and paralyzing you.
It isn't until he flicks your forehead, the small pain giving you some sense to focus on him.
"Are you broken?" You shakily move to tap at your leg, you got grazed right at your knee, blood coating your pants, it's impossible to see just how much damage lies underneath.
John curses under his breath, looking around you both, hearing the gun shots get impossibly louder.
You think he's gonna leave you, you're at peace with that, it's the only thing he can do, he can't risk his life for some low level soldier.
You open your mouth, ready to tell him to go, that it's okay until you're shoved over his shoulder, one arm coming to lock your legs in place to his body, while his other hand holds a small pistol.
"M gonna need you to provide coverfire for me, alright? We're both walking out of here in one piece."
"But sir-"
"Do as I say, and we'll be just fine Sweetness." He hoists you higher, and you take position, your hands are steady, you're gonna make it home, you got faith in your Lieutenant.
Hours later, you're back on base, your leg momentarily in a cast, does he come and visit you. (He got stuck getting a verbal lashing from the higher ups, wondering why in God's fucking name he went against direct orders to go get you, he doesn't let that slip though, just that he had to do some paperwork)
You sob out a thank you, saying how much you owe him, that you're forever in his debt.
He just laughs and says you can treat him to a cigar and you're even.
He doesn't realize it leads to you following him everywhere, always under his watch.
John calls you a pain in the ass and that he doesn't deserve the loyalty you decided to give, but it's been months and you're still clinging onto him, he decides it's not that bad, in a world where he can't trust most people, it's a comfort to know he has you, at the very least.
It isn't until years later when John forms 141, the first file he drops down in front of Kate is yours, his eyes softening at seeing your face on the envelope, it's been quite awhile since then, you've grown into a fine soldier, only issue being you're incredibly stubborn and work the best with him, and not the best with others due to your unwavering loyalty to the man. Any missions you two go on together go by flawlessly, both of you intuned to one another.
Kate opens up your folder, quickly skimming your records and she hums, looking up slowly with an eye brow raised.
"Why them? Seems like they may be a bit of a hassle." She murmurs but not unkindly, just stating a fact. Yes you work well, with Price, but you'll need to be a team player, to care for the others as well. She can't help but wonder if you'll make a good fit.
"Kids a hassle alright, but you'll never meet a more devoted and caring soldier, First one I ever risked my ass for, they've been a constant since." He nods firmly, meeting Laswells eyes with his own, determination fueling his gaze.
Kate licks her lips, she knows that look. He's not gonna let up on this, not gonna back down. Taking one more look at your file, she nods.
"Well, if you can vet for them, they're in. Now, who's next?"
#john price x reader#john price#price <3#kayla writes <3#call of duty drabble#call of duty headcanons#call of duty x reader#cod x reader
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Read from the beginning
You're having a nightmare. In it Master has his cock down your throat. You're gagging, trying to breathe, but he's not giving you a moment to rest. His cock seems impossibly long, and your esophagus impossibly deep; every time you think you've reached the bottom of his shaft, he seems to go a few inches deeper. Tears are streaming down your face, drool hanging off your chin, sweat collecting on your forehead. But the rape—in the dream you know it's rape, though you have no idea how you got here or where you are or even what your surroundings look like—the rape isn't what makes it a nightmare. In fact, for as violent as it should feel, the rape is actually fairly peaceful. The part that terrifies you, fills your dreaming mind with such inescapable dread, is how badly you want it.
His cock must be miles long at this point. His thrusting is speeding up, his broad hands gripping your head more tightly, his nails digging into your skin. You feel him begin to bulge, expand with what must be liters of cum, but his cock is so long that the process isn't instant. The bulge of cum travels down his shaft, like a cartoon character shoved through a pipe too small for them. You feel, and somehow also see, the bulge shooting down your throat, ever deeper, seeming to gain size and speed as it goes. It will be at the head any second now, and when that happens this desperate hunger inside you will finally be sated. You find yourself trembling with need, and simultaneously gripped with absolute terror at just how complete that need is. The two feelings merge into one, a heart-pounding breath-catching spine-tingling skin-crawling something that is too intense to be either good or bad. You know the moment his cum hits your throat, everything will change.
And then you wake up.
The dream ends before you open your eyes. For a long moment you can't move at all; every muscle in your body is seized up in fear, and you can't seem to remember how to relax. You feel something running down your perineum to your ass, and you realize with disgust that your pussy is dripping wet.
The bed of the slave suite is nicer than the one you have at home. (Had at home. It's not like that stuff is yours anymore.) The mattress is huge and perfectly goldilocks-ed between soft and firm, and the silk sheets feel incredible on your naked body. You never sleep naked, but in sheets this soft you might not mind being forced to. As your body begins to relax and you're able to move again, you find yourself stretching out, luxuriating in the bed, allowing its softness to envelop you.
You hear the electronic whir of the lock on your door, and moments later Master is there in a black silk robe, watching you. You sit up and lift the sheet to cover yourself—an odd time to get self conscious, maybe, but you feel the need to control something—but he gives his head a little shake. "Take that off. There's no hiding your body from me." You let the sheet fall, and resist the urge to cross your arms over your breasts. But you sit with your knees together, so he can't see how wet you are. That, at least, he doesn't seem to notice.
"Today is obedience training," says Master. "I doubt it will be enough to completely break your will; that takes time. But at the very least you'll learn my rules, and what happens when you break them. Now, time for your first lesson. Lay on your back and spread your legs."
You wonder how much you can allow before it becomes your fault. Last night you had no choice, you were tied up. You couldn't move, much less stop him as he fucked you. Raped you, you remind yourself. But you're not tied up this morning. You could fight back, at least try to fight back. If you don't try to do anything to stop him, doesn't that mean a part of you wants him to do it again? You need to prove that you don't want him to do it again. You press your knees tighter together and stare at him defiantly.
He just smiles. "Mmm, you're resistant. That's good, it means you get to learn this lesson early." Before you can think he's lunging toward you, his robe billowing open behind him. Under it he wears only a pair of black silk boxers and through them you can see how hard his cock is. This is his favorite part.
He's on you in less than a second, and you're relieved to find that your fight-or-flight response really does kick in. With no option to flee you find yourself beating against him with your fists, kicking with your legs, trying to wrestle out of his grasp, but he is larger and stronger than you in every count. He gets on top of you, his swollen cock twitching against your stomach, and wraps his hands around your throat. You tug at his arms, try to buck him off, but the harder you struggle the tighter his grip gets, and the weaker you feel. You look up into his eyes and see them gleaming with amusement. You stop resisting.
He holds you there a moment longer, letting you plead with your eyes, letting spots play across your vision, before he relaxes his grip and allows you to gasp for air. He does not get off you, nor does he fully release your neck. "I am stronger than you. I am faster than you. I am smarter than you. You cannot overpower me, you cannot outrun me, and you cannot outthink me. Do you understand?"
You stare into his eyes. You can't be sure how clever he is, but he's definitely not lying about the other two. "I understand." Then, remembering yourself, you add, "Master." You feel his cock move when you call him that.
"Good," he says. "Now, because you resisted me I'm going to have to hurt you. You're still learning the rules, so I won't go too hard, but understand that the more you resist the worse it will get. Are you ready?"
What else can you say? "Yes, Master."
He slaps you very hard across the face. Pain shivers across your skin, making your eyes tear up. You thought he hit you yesterday, but that was nothing. That was just getting your attention. He pulls his hand back and when he hits you again it's a little better, because you can steel yourself for it, and a little worse, because he hits harder. As the immediate pain fades, the skin he struck feels tingly and hot. You close your eyes as he raises his hand again, and then he's taking your nipples between his fingers and pinching quite hard. This one surprises you—you suspect that was the point—and you yelp, though to be honest the pain is brief and not as bad as the slaps. You feel his cock strain against his boxers, and take a mental note: he likes when you cry out. Does that mean you should be more vocal, hoping he'll get what he wants and move on, or stay quiet, hoping he gets frustrated and gives up?
You don't take Master for a man who gives up easily.
Indeed, it seems like he's done punishing you for now, though whether that was always his intention or he was waiting for you to cry is anyone's guess. He rubs your cheek tenderly with the same hand he was just using to strike it, brushing away the tears the pain brought to your eyes. "There, there," he says. "I don't want to hurt you..." He looks down at his cock, rock hard against your stomach, and laughs. "Well, you can probably tell that's a lie, but it's no fun when you haven't earned it. Do as you're told, try your best, and I won't hurt you very badly. I may spank you for making mistakes, but that's just responsible slave keeping. Now, are you ready to cooperate?"
He's shown you it's useless to resist, at least head-on. All you'll get for fighting back is more pain, and he promised to make it worse next time. So you say, "Yes Master."
"Good," he says, finally getting off you. "Now. Spread your legs." You do as he says, and notice with some surprise that you are no longer ashamed of your nudity. Maybe those slaps knocked something loose in you, whatever part of your mind was still clinging to the idea of preserving your honor. You're going to have to give up on pride if you want to survive this situation.
Master kneels at the foot of your bed to get eye level with your groin, and makes an appreciative sound. "It really is a beautiful pussy. You'd go for quite a lot with a pussy like that, even with that attitude of yours. Not that I'm planning on selling you anytime soon. Anyway, go ahead and play with yourself."
You lift your head to look at him, trying to tell if he means what you think he means. What else could he be talking about? It just seems out of character, having you pleasure yourself without pleasuring him. "You heard me," he says. "Masturbate, like you would in your own home. This is your home, after all."
"Yes, Master." You lay your head back on the pillow and lower your hand to your pussy. It's still quite wet from the dream, but you take a moment to warm up anyway: running your fingers over your pussy lips, tracing wide circles around your clitoris, just waking yourself up, getting used to the touch. Then you dip a finger inside yourself, getting it nice and wet, and start using it to touch your clit. Softly at first, just quick swipes across, then longer, slower. You're afraid to tell him you won't get far without something to get you in the mood, something hot to read or watch. But you soon realize that this clit routine is working better than expected: you can feel the orgasm building up faster than you'd have thought for the situation. It's like your pussy doesn't know the difference between fear and arousal. Anything that gets the blood pumping is good enough for me, sweet pea.
As you begin to moan, you find your mind straying unbidden to the way you felt last night, completely helpless, Master on top of you and inside you. You remember the way his cock swelled up when you struggled, the way his eyes looked as he rubbed your clit. You think of the dream, wonder what his cum would have tasted like. He takes you by the wrist and pulls your hand away gently, but before you can protest there's something else touching you, wet and soft and wonderful. It's his tongue, you think, but you don't look. Seeing him doing it would remind you where you are, and you don't want to be reminded. You just want to stare at the the ceiling and lavish in this sensation.
He does it exactly like you would have done it. Somehow, just by watching you for a few minutes, he's figured out exactly how you'd like to be touched. Only somehow he's doing it better. It's like he know what you want next before you do, understands your pussy better than you understand it yourself. As the pleasure mounts you begin to close your legs around his head, barely even noticing as you do it, but without stopping he presses them firmly back into the bed and holds them there. You arch your back, close your eyes, allow yourself to moan unabashedly.
And then he pulls back. The feeling lingers for a moment before falling back, settling down, leaving you twitching and whimpering. Operating on instinct you reach down to bring back the pleasure, but he catches your wrist. "From now on any pleasure you feel comes by my permission. You do not touch yourself without my say so. You do not cum until I feel you have earned it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Would you like to earn it?"
The feeling has receded enough to let you think more clearly, and the shame is creeping in on you. Knowing how much you needed him in that moment, how you would have done anything for him to make you cum, let him hurt you or degrade you or humiliate you. You hate giving him that power; you know the more power you give him over you the harder it will be to escape.
You also know how desperately you want to cum.
"Please Master," you say, voice shaking. "Let me earn it. Let me earn the right to cum."
You can see in his eyes and in his cock how much he likes that. "Good girl."
Being Master's fuckdoll turns out to be more than just sitting around and waiting for him to pump some cum into you. Your entire life is to be dedicated to increasing his pleasure. After breakfast (a bowl of plain oatmeal that you eat with your hands, no spoon having been provided) Master shows you how he likes his shoulders rubbed after a long day at work. You take to it quickly, and you're surprised how satisfying it is to hear his appreciative groans as you dig your thumbs into his tense musculature. He puts his tongue on you again, this time laying you out on the living room sofa, letting you whimper and moan, but he still doesn't allow you to cum. The next thing he teaches you is how to greet guests when they come over: where to put their coats, how you're expected to touch them, if and when to suck their cocks. You make a few mistakes in the practice runs he makes you do—it's a lot to take in, and it gets harder to focus each time he brings you close to orgasm—but you do pretty well. When the lesson is over he lays you across his lap and spanks you mercilessly, his cock hardening again as you whine and cry and beg his forgiveness. When he's done he says, "only ten spanks is better than most girls get for that lesson. You're a natural learner." You have to remind yourself not to be proud of that accomplishment. And then he licks you again, and any thoughts in your head go out the window.
That's the pattern for the rest of the day: Master gives you a lesson in how to behave in his house. He spanks you for each mistake you made during the lesson. Then he brings you right up to the edge of orgasm. He teaches you how to mix his favorite drinks, and when he'll want one. He ties you up in a number of different ways, showing you the right positions to assume to make it easier for him. He shows you the different ways he likes you to sit with him in the living room as he reads a book or watches a movie: your favorite is when he stretches out on the couch and lets you cuddle his leg, your head in his lap. He pretends not to notice as you gently grind your clit against his bare calf, but the swelling of his cock betrays him. As long as you don't cum, you think, he'll let you get away with it.
Each time he stops you from cumming you get a little more desperate, a little more delirious. You make more mistakes as the day goes on, and he has to spank you more with each lesson, but a funny thing is starting to happen. Because spanking always immediately precedes his tongue on your clit, you find yourself starting to get wet as soon as his hand strikes your ass. It hurts, but you don't mind the pain—you kind of like it even. It's exhilarating, makes you feel warm and tingly, and you think it heightens the pleasure when he starts touching you more tenderly. By the end of the day he doesn't even have to spank you: you can feel yourself getting wet as soon as you're in position.
It doesn't escape Master's notice. He runs his fingers along your vulva, sending a delicious chill up your spine, and gives your head a scratch. Nobody's ever done that to you before, but since he started doing it this morning you can't get enough of it; you whimper with pleasure, melting into the couch and into his lap. "You're beginning to like your punishments," he says. "You're a good girl, good girls know how good it feels to get what you deserve. Just so long as you aren't acting up on purpose to make me spank you. If that starts happening I'll need to find another way to hurt you."
You shake your head vigorously. "No Master, never!" And you mean it; it wouldn't feel as good if you knew you hadn't earned it for one of your stupid mistakes.
"Good," says Master. "I think you're ready for your final lesson of the day." He moves you off his lap without giving you your spanking, which disappoints you a little, but when you get your face out of the sofa and turn around your heart leaps with sudden thrill. He has removed his boxers, letting his erection hang in front of you. "It's time you learned how to suck my cock."
Without you quite noticing, most of the shame has slipped away from you throughout the day, but you're reminded of it in this moment. You remember how much you wanted to taste him in your dream, how it felt disgusting and ecstatic and violating and thrilling all at the same time. You hate yourself for what you've already become; a day of orgasm denial and you're already his simpering little slut? Are you really that weak?
But what else should you do? Fight for your life, be punished over and over, live your life in a cage waiting until someone is ready to rape you? Isn't this way better? Why force yourself to be miserable when you can feel this good all the time? You can still work on your escape plan. It doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself along the way. So you leave your shame behind; let it fall off you like a coat you've grown too big for. You get on your knees in front of Master. You look up into his cold eyes. And you begin to suck his cock.
He likes you to look at him. That's good, because you like looking at him too. You like to see his face react to each movement of your lips, each flick of your tongue. His head is dripping with precum—you realize today's activities have probably teased him just as much as they did you, and he didn't even get the release you did. It's warm and salty and just flavorful enough to tease you after the three meals of oatmeal you've had today. You feel yourself dripping with anticipation of what his cum will taste like. You feel insane. You don't know if you've ever been this horny in your life.
He likes it when you lick that strip of skin on the underside of his head, but it's too much all on its own. He shows you how to switch it up, swirling the head of his cock around your tongue, pushing up and down his shaft with your lips and cheeks and throat. He's not interested in shoving himself down your throat with every thrust—he likes throatfucking, he says, but that's not what this is about. This is about you servicing him, not him masturbating with you as a proxy. Still, he likes it when you take his whole cock down your throat, especially when you use your hand to play with his balls at the same time.
At some point he transitions to sitting down, and you to laying belly-down on the couch with your head bobbing in his lap. He lays his head back and moans softly, and you swell with pride at how good you're able to make him feel. His hand is on the back your head, not pushing you onto him, just running his hand through your hair, scratching your scalp with his manicured nails. It feels so good you almost can't keep sucking. You wonder if anyone has ever cum from having their head scratched.
He's getting close. You can feel it in the way his cock swells, the way his fingers become more frenetic on your scalp. You close your eyes and you're back in the dream, watching the bulge of cum speed toward you, dying to know what he tastes like. Then he's gripping you by the hair and lifting you off him, letting your cheek rest on his thigh. "That's enough," he says. "Or you'll make me cum."
"No!" you say, whipping your head up to face him. "I mean, I'm sorry Master, just...please, please may I taste your cum?"
He stares into your eyes, that appraising expression seeming to penetrate your mind and slither through your darkest secrets. He strokes your cheek. "Usually I prefer to cum in your pussy," he says. "But today I'll make an exception, because you've been such a good girl."
You almost weep with relief. "Thank you Master. Thank you so much." You return your attention to his cock, and he moans with renewed pleasure. You feel his weight shifting, and a moment later his hand is sliding between you and the couch, and his fingers are working your clit exactly how you like it. You moan into his cock and lift your ass up to give him better access.
It doesn't take either of you very long. He was seconds away from bursting a moment ago, and you've been in a state of sustained arousal since this morning. He tells you to finish him off with that move he likes, licking under the head, so you do just that. As his fingers quicken across your clit and his cock stiffens in your mouth, you suck your lips onto his head, stroke his shaft with your hand, and flick your tongue across that strip of skin as fast as you can. His fingers reach a fever pitch and you find your ass raising further in the air as your legs straighten, your toes splay out, your back arches. A wonderful, aching glow pours through your pussy and into your stomach and you close your eyes as his cock finally erupts into your mouth. Mouthful after mouthful of warm, thick cum shoots out of him, almost faster than you can swallow, and you feel the dream of this morning melting away. The dream was hot, sure, but it can't stand up to real thing. The texture of his cum on your lips and tongue. The pleasure radiating through your body as his fingers softly stroke you clit and labia. The way it feels to have him in your stomach, like a part of him is becoming a part of you. The feeling of his softening cock against your lips, his balls in your mouth as you run a sensual hand through the hair on his legs. You close your eyes, trying to capture this moment forever.
He lets you stay there as he turns on the TV. You don't understand the show he's watching—it's in a language you don't speak, and your brain is too fluttery at the moment to follow the subtitles—but it doesn't matter. The feeling of his skin against your skin, his cock against your cheek, his hand playing absentmindedly through your hair...it's perfect bliss. Just this morning you were thinking about how to fight back, how to escape. Why would you ever want to leave if you get to feel like this everyday? You'll probably feel differently in the morning, but for right now you allow the moment to take you, let yourself be carried away on a wave of warm, happy calm.
Some time later you are dimly aware of him lifting you, carrying you, placing you in your bed. You snuggle into your lovely sheets, only half awake, and the last thing you remember is him lowering his head between your legs to give you a good night kiss.
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The Jedi and The Waitress (Master Obi-Wan x FemReader)
Summary: It feels like forever since you’ve seen your “jedi boyfriend” and you’re missing Obi terribly. What started out as a sweet reunion, quickly turns into something just a tad more heated…better get back to your apartment fast for that week full of “fun” activities.
Warnings: A little bit of the fluff, and a bit of the smut.
Note: I would love to know your thoughts, and I will be trying to post a fic for Obi every other Monday!
“You, my dear, are the most ravishing creature in the whole galaxy,” he muttered, cupping your cheek. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss.
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It seemed like it had been forever since you last felt his soft lips on yours. His large, calloused hands caressing the curves of your body. His thick –
“All right, missy, you can head on out for the day.”
Your head shot up at the sound of Dex’s booming voice. “Oh!” You squeaked, trying to hide your very apparent blush. “Is it that time already?”
The besalisk gave you a knowing smile from the kitchen window. “Thinking about that jedi boyfriend again, weren’t ya?”
Your eyes went wide, and you began to stutter. “I, um – well, I -”
Dex shook his head and laughed. “Go punch out and round up your things. I’ll walk ya to the shuttle stop.”
“Yes, boss; thank you!” You awkwardly replied, before swiftly escaping to the back.
You had been waitressing at the diner for just over a year now. All your coworkers were absolutely wonderful. Dex, your boss, was the kindest soul you ever worked for. Plus, you got to encounter all sorts of very interesting individuals.
That’s how you met him. The jedi master was apparently one of the diner’s regulars and an old friend of Dex. He would pop in usually about once a week for a cup of caf and a slice of whatever cake you had on special. Sometimes he would even stay well after closing time, catching up with Dex and getting to know you better.
When your shifts had changed to the lunch rush, you were worried that you wouldn’t see him as often. Your concerns only lasted for a week or so.
He began showing up early afternoon and stopping by more frequently. He would still converse with Dex, but it was very clear that he came only for you. Your dear boss reserved a special seat at the counter just for him.
You found him to be very charming and he thought you were ‘absolutely delightful’. One thing quickly led to another and soon something beautiful had blossomed between the two of you.
It had been a difficult path to navigate at first. The jedi code was the biggest obstacle, it wasn’t easy going against centuries old rules. And now this whole war business had not helped either, taking him away for long periods of time. Despite all of this though, you both made it work.
Opening the door to your employee locker, you couldn’t help but smile at the oversized brown cloak that hung inside. He had given it to you before his most recent mission. Saying he hoped you would wear it and think ‘fondly’ of him.
You could feel your face heat up once more, as you hastily pulled it on. Instantly you were enveloped in his scent, wood with faint traces of leather and caf. Bringing a long sleeve to your nose, you inhaled deeply. A small sigh escaping you.
“Let’s go, missy! The shuttle is gonna be coming soon and this new driver doesn’t wait around long for stragglers!” Dex hollered, standing by the alley door. One set of hands on his hips, bemused look on his face.
“Coming!” Snatching your bag, you hurriedly ran to meet him. Silently cursing to yourself when you nearly tripped on the cloak’s hem. Hoping it went unnoticed.
“I think ya might want to consider dating a shorter jedi!” He laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder to help steady you.
You gave Dex an appreciative nod and mumbled a small thanks.
Dex just shook his head and laughed again in response.
A thought occurred to you as he began guiding you outside. “Hey, boss, how do you know this new driver so well?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder.
“Suppose ya could say he’s a good friend of mine.”
“And you certainly have a lot of those,” you giggled. Turning your head back around, you suddenly stopped stunned in your tracks.
Standing before you… Leaning against a speeder bike… Looking as dashing as ever was… “Hello there.”
“Obi!” You cried out, running to him and throwing yourself into his open arms.
Holding you tightly, he smiled down at you warmly. “It’s good to see you, darling.”
Tilting your head up, you took a good look at Obi-Wan. Your heart ached as you noticed the still healing bruises and cuts on his handsome face. And fluttered when you saw the mischievous glint in his blue eyes.
You lifted your hand and gently cupped his cheek. “I missed you,” you whispered.
He happily leaned into your touch, nuzzling affectionately against your palm. “I missed you as well.”
Standing on your tiptoes, you boldly captured his lips in a searing kiss. One that you poured all your need and love into.
His lips moved passionately against yours. Hungry and desperate. Obi slipped a hand under your cloak, slowly sliding down –
“All right ya two, time for ya to be heading off!” Dex interrupted loudly.
Immediately breaking the kiss, you buried your face into Obi-Wan’s chest. So grateful to have your back turned to the besalisk.
Obi gave you a comforting squeeze. “Thanks, Dexy!” He laughed. “I’ll be sure to have her back to work in a week!”
“Yeah, yeah! Just don’t go too crazy!”
Hearing the door slam shut, you peeked up at Obi-Wan. “What do you mean in a week?” You asked meekly.
“Surprise!” He chuckled. Lifting you with ease and placing you on the bike. “I have some downtime between missions, and I am going to spend every minute of it with you.”
Your eyes lit up. “Really?! I get you all to myself?!”
Slotting his much larger frame between your legs, he caged you in with his arms. “Yes, sweetheart, all yours,” he muttered huskily, his mouth inches away from yours. “To do whatever you want.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Just barely brushing against the growing bulge in his pants. “What are we waiting for, General Kenobi?”
He rolled his hips in response and pressed a quick, heated kiss to your lips. Obi then gave your butt a good squeeze and sat himself on the speeder in front of you.
“Shall we continue this at home?” He wickedly grinned, placing your helmet on your head.
Holding on to him tightly, your body firmly pushed up against his, you purred. “Yes, let’s.”
Not wanting to waste another moment, the two of you sped off into the evening sky…heading to your shared apartment for a week full of ‘fun’ activities.
#obi wan kenobi#obi wan#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan x reader#star wars obi wan#sw obi wan kenobi#obi wan smut#obi wan kenobi fanfiction#obi wan fanfiction#star wars#star wars prequels#star wars fanfiction#star wars smut#smut#smutty fanfiction#obi-wan kenobi#obi-wan#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obi-wan x reader#obi-wan kenobi fanfiction#obi-wan fanfiction#obi-wan smut
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A/N: I am an emotional wreck after that last episode. No spoilers here, just looking for a place to put my feelings. Let's check in on our pals John and Ellie.
five. out of order.
Her first few letters are short, silly, rambling. He devours every word.
His heart is still pounding and he knows he's had a silly smile on his face for the last hour or so as he sits up with the light on. The nurse on duty has told him to go to bed a few different times, but he can't help it.
It's like a book you can't put down, the way she's written to him. He still can't believe it.
The next letter unfolds on crisp, sharp white paper, her words in loopy script that slants slightly - she’s left handed, he’s learned.
Dear Major Egan,
If we would have had more time, I would have asked how you prefer to be addressed. I hear your friends call you Bucky, but it feels too… familiar, somehow.
I hope you’re safe.
The last time we spoke, there was something in your eyes that I recognized from the last time my brother was on leave, and that’s why I felt I had to turn you away. I hope you don’t think less of me - turning away a perfectly good patron isn’t normally standard practice, you see.
I thought about it for a long time after you left. By now you’re probably getting ready to fly, and I hope you aren’t too reckless. I don’t know if you see it, but so many people care about you and want you to come back. You might break Mrs. Henderson’s heart if you don’t swipe flowers from her garden ever again.
I hope you’re well. I���ll write to you again soon.
Yours,
Eleanor Peters
He can feel the indent in the page where she signed her name. He imagines her sitting under dim lamp light, writing to someone who only spoke to her on occasion and usually when he was rip roaring drunk.
For a moment, he feels unbearably ashamed. But he remembers when he had come to apologize to her and when she had given him something to think about for those years locked behind the wire - the way she wrote to him the entire time he was gone.
She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t think he was worth it… right?
He finally falls asleep and when he wakes, Buck is there. He’s reading, and Bucky wonders if he slept at all the night before.
It was hard for him too, to get used to being able to sleep through the night without the fear of being awoken or the instinct to keep one eye open.
“Sleep well?” Buck asks, not looking up until he dog ears the corner of his page.
“Fine. You?”
Buck shakes his head. “Not really.” He meets his friend’s gaze. “Hard to get used to the quiet.”
Bucky nods. “Flying again today?”
“Later.” Buck confirms.
“I think— I think I need to go speak to Ellie. As soon as I get cleared to be up and about.”
Buck’s eyebrows rise. “Yeah?” A smile is growing on his face.
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”
Buck laughs. “I didn’t say anything.”
“It was your face that said it.”
“I think she could be real good for you, John.” Buck says, still snickering a little. “She seemed nice.”
“Don’t know what I’ve got to offer anyone, much less someone like her.” Bucky mutters.
“Hey. You remember what I told you?” Buck leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re worth knowing. She wanted to know you back then, if those letters are anything to go off of.”
"Yeah." Bucky looks at the small table at his bedside, to where the stack of envelopes sits. He thinks of the last one in the stack. The one that's already wrinkled from him reading it over and over.
Bucky,
I've decided I've been writing to you long enough to call you by your moniker, though if I'm wrong feel free to address anything you write back to me as Miss Eleanor - it's what everyone else calls me, and you want to know a secret? I hate my first name.
It sounds too matronly, but no one calls me Ellie, not really. Only a few of my closest friends.
I've been writing to you now for over a year. I haven't posted a single envelope. By now, I know that you're alive at least. That was a relief. But I still don't know where to send letters, and if I did, I don't know how you'd take them. This friendship seems awfully one-sided at the moment, though of course that's my fault.
I wish I would have had the guts to post some of these letters, but especially this one, for a few reasons.
Major Crosby stopped by today and I tried to be coy when I asked of any word of you, but I think he's picking up on the hints. Oh, I hope he doesn't give you too much grief about it when you get back (because you will get back) - so I figure the cat's out of the bag now, so to speak.
I keep hearing rumblings about camps all over Europe. Horrible, evil things, and my heart just aches thinking of you in a place like that. You don't deserve any of this, and even if it sounds ridiculous - I barely know you - I just feel it deep down. That you're a good person.
The last reason I wish I had enough courage to send this is to say thank you. Because as much as I started writing these letters for you, they've become something that's truly helped me, too. I enjoy writing little mundane things about my day and it makes me feel as if I'm not so alone here either. Things are quiet in the village as always, and I don't have many friends. It's just me and my Dad.
I've been rambling too long. Like I said, maybe someday you'll read this, and maybe someday I'll have the guts to just tell it right to your handsome face in person: I think I'm smitten with you, Major John Egan, and I should have told you that before you left.
I hope you think of me sometimes. It's a little selfish, but I'll say it anyway.
I hope you're safe.
Yours (and I mean that),
Ellie
When he first read that, he felt so clearly that he could see inside her brain. He felt her nerves to be writing it, the way she felt a little silly at writing to someone who she barely knew, but especially knowing she was never going to send it.
But he also feels his heart tighten every time he reads the last paragraph, because he knows exactly how she feels. While he wishes she would have found a way to get these letters mailed, he also loves the way he's gotten to know her like this.
Through her own written word, he feels like he's lived the last two years right here with her, going through her day and getting to know who she is.
They're doing this all out of order. He knows it's ridiculous.
But he can't help but feel a little head over heels with her, too.
He thinks it's too soon to tell her that, no matter what she's said in her letter. But he feels it, nonetheless. Stranger things have happened.
Buck is still watching him, a small smile on his face. "You want me to call down to the pub and see if she'll come by and sit with you for awhile?"
Bucky tenses, but decides he's done feeling embarrassed about the whole thing. "You'd save me going AWOL and getting my head ripped off by Nurse Wells," he says casually.
"You got it. I'll see what I can do." His friend says, rising to his feet.
"Be careful." Bucky says, out of habit. These missions, they're milk runs, but he still tenses watching Buck walk away from him. He wonders if that feeling is ever going to go away.
Buck waves over his shoulder, and then he's gone.
.
An hour later, he hears the click of her shoes before he sees her. He imagines he can smell the sweet floral of her perfume too.
"Heard you missed me." She says, sitting down with a parcel in her lap, no fanfare.
He grins. "Maybe. Whatcha got there?"
"Thought you could do with a home cooked -- well, pub cooked - meal." She blushes a little, but then straightens like she's come to a decision. "Besides, if you're not well enough to take me out to dinner yet, then I'll bring dinner to you."
He's well and truly gone.
She eyes the stack of letters on his table. "You've read them all?"
His eyes are dark with emotion when he meets her gaze. "A few times."
"And?" She sounds nervous. "Do you think l'm completely mental?"
He laughs. "Ellie, I know we're doing this a little out of order." He reaches for her hand. "But I know everything I need to know about you. And I'm sure about this." He arches an eyebrow, "That is, if you're still smitten."
She blushes in full then, trying to pull her hand away from his. He doesn't let her; tugs her closer, and kisses her temple when he can reach her. He sees her shoulders relax.
"This is crazy." She says, breathless.
"Maybe." He shrugs. "But look-- I thought I wasn't ever going to get back here. And I don't know what's going to happen next. But after the last two years... I'd like to figure it out. With you. If you'll have me."
Her eyes well up with tears, and he frowns, thinking he's gone too far, but then she's leaning forward, pressing her lips against his lightly, and everything goes click inside his heart.
He's right where he's meant to be.
#john egan x oc#softspeirs mota fanfiction#masters of the air fanfiction#mota fanfiction#bucky egan x oc#oc: ellie peters
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Hi there.
I'm going to be vulnerable for a moment.
I wrote this book (working title "Synia") over the last 5 years, and finished it up back in April. Since then, I've been holding onto it, willing myself to send out queries. But the fear of rejection, and the knowledge that it's likely not a "sellable" book, has kept me back from actually sending out any letters.
To force myself to do something, I'd like to share the prologue with you all. The story is about a pair of siblings who are Syniae, or creatures who have magical gifts based on synesthesia.
If you would like to know more, I'll be happy to blab on about it ad nauseam. If you know of any publishers or literary agents who are interested in such a story, please let me know. If this falls into the empty void, well...that's also feedback that I need.
Thank you for reading the above, and I hope you enjoy the prologue below:
-----------------*-*-*-*-*---------------
Grey.
Everything was grey. The sky, the walls, the fog inside her head. Even her tormentor’s eyes were a piercing, unforgiving grey. It was the color that invaded her every thought from the moment she awoke until the moment she finally passed out.
Long ago, there used to be a spectrum. She vaguely recalled the melody of a forest green, the sweet sound of a tempting red, the echo of a vibrant yellow. That was an æon ago. Now, she was reduced to monochrome, the lifeless color of a rainy day.
Today, she had opted for a change of scenery. Instead of spending the entire day in bed, staring at the grey ceiling, she instead sat next to the grey-filtered transpane along one of the walls, watching the mist that enveloped the view.
Suddenly, the dreaded low, silky voice behind her called through the mental mist:
“Oh good, you’re up. I was beginning to wonder if I had finally broken you.” The disembodied tone had an air of amusement to it, as though it had told some clever inside joke.
She scowled in reply, but did not turn to search for the source of the voice. She had no words for the man. Words had color to them, and this Orb didn’t allow for that.
“I see. Just as conversational as ever,” mused her captor. “Come now, there’s no need for such reticence. We’re far beyond that. After all, we’ve both held up our ends of the bargain so far, and you can clearly see the benefits. You’re fully cooperative now and haven’t tried to escape in quite some time, and in return, your living quarters are quite generous, and I do try to make sure you’re well fed. For all intents and purposes, you are far more my guest than my prisoner at this point.”
And it was true. The sleeping room she was currently sitting in was rather large, and contained a bed, a small table, and two chairs, one of which she occupied. Attached to it was a respectable bathing room, complete with a tub. There was even a small cooking and eating room across a small, narrow hallway. She should have been comfortable. There were just two major problems: she was here against her will, and everything was that same damnable shade.
When she didn't hear the sound of her "host's" footsteps echoing away from her prison,
her curiosity and anger got the better of her. Almost subconsciously, she turned and gave the lurking man in the entryway a withering glance. To the prisoner, he was barely more than a silhouette. What little she could see was distorted into the same washed-out shade by the specially- filtered light. Slate shoes and the bottom half of a charcoal suit protruded into frame, along with a pair of ashen hands clasped in front of his sharkskin belt.
He responded to her glare by tugging slightly at the cuff of his sleeve, almost as if he were uncomfortable. It was a ruse, she knew; they had played this scenario out before. She turned back to face the table and transpane as the Grey Man strode in from the entryway behind her. His footsteps tapped a muffled rhythm on the shaggy grey carpet. In another life, she could have made a song from it. Now, it was just another sound to interrupt the monotony echoing pointlessly in her mind.
When he reached the remaining chair across from her, he paused before sitting, and instead looked down at her calculatedly for a moment. Then, he pulled her forward across the small, round table by her chin, forcing her brown eyes to meet his grey, separated only a couple centimeters. She was a bit taken aback at the action, but did not dare show it on her face. He had never been this aggressive before.
“Tell me, Synia, what makes you hate me so much? After all, you invited me. I merely gave you everything you asked for,” he purred.
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then just as quickly returned to the hostile glare she had perfected in the last year. He had just given her the ability to escape, but he didn’t know it.
Yet.
She fought to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, taking care to ensure that the mask was firmly in place. Fortunately, he misunderstood the lapse.
“Ahhh, yes. The truth is rather uncomfortable, isn’t it? Just think: if your curiosity and desperation hadn’t gotten the better of you, you wouldn’t be here, and this whole mess could have been avoided. How selfish of you,” he said, almost a whisper. The man thrust her chin away, forcing her to break eye contact and instead focus on her balance. He smirked slightly as he stood up and faced the entryway.
“Still, I must be grateful. Thanks to you, I have been given the greatest gift of all. Because of your greed, I’m free to move as I wish, and every whim I could think of is catered to my specific design!” His voice rose slightly with each sentence, as if convincing himself that it was true.
He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was back to its usual silk: “Before too long now, I'll have cracked the code, and you will truly be at my mercy. I’m getting oh so close. This last experiment yielded some remarkable results that the bots are still analyzing. And when I do figure it out, I will be able to be rid of you for good. Until then..." He trailed off dramatically as he walked towards the door. She did not turn to watch him leave.
His footsteps paused behind her, and there was complete silence for several seconds. Her curiosity once again betrayed her. As she turned, she saw him standing with his back to her, the grey fob in his hand extended to unlock the door. However, he didn’t activate it. Instead, he had waited until he knew she was watching to leave his parting shot. His voice returned to the deadly not-quite-whisper:
“Well, that’s the only reason you’re still alive.”
He activated the fob, and the door clicked open. She had already turned back to face the transpane again by the time he had crossed over the threshold. There was a sound of the electomag lock bolt sliding back into place, followed by gentle footsteps that retreated back into the silence.
She closed her eyes and exhaled softly, like she had a million times before. Only this time, there was a monumental difference: he had finally made an error. He had been so careful in the last four-hundred-and-thirty-two days, sixteen hours, and twenty-two minutes to make sure that her entire life had no color except grey. Every single surface and feature had been carefully selected to prevent her from using her gift.
He had the bots shave her head every other day or so, leaving nothing but a faint, grey stubble. Her now threadbare clothes had been carefully selected to be comfortable, but monochromatic. There were no mirrors, and every surface that could have possibly held a reflection was scratched or matted down, so she could not see herself. And her tattoos…she still couldn’t think about that, even as she subconsciously touched the scars on her left forearm where one of them used to be. She was to be as much grey as the room itself. But they could not change her eyes.
Her brown eyes.
For an instant, as he held her gaze so close to his own, the filtered light was broken by his own shadow, and his wintery stare became twin mirrors. For the first time in three-hundred-and-ninety-six days, eight hours, and twenty minutes, she saw a color. And she remembered.
She remembered what brown felt like.
That tiny glimpse was all she needed. It was the spark of hope she had been waiting for, that she had almost given up on. She had a color; a good one, even. For the first time in her life, she was grateful that her eyes were the color of cesspools, as he had once described them.
Now all she had to do was focus, plan, and wait for the perfect moment. She had all the time in the Orb. After all, he stupidly thought she was beaten.
#writing#writeblr#novel#new novels#long post#I'm so scared to share this lol#thanks for reading#querying#publishing#synesthesia#Synia#Syniae
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trash magic
"boy, you wanna hold me down and tell me that you love me?"
or the one where you get a tattoo for joel and he shows you just how much he appreciates it.
what’s playing 🎧 trash magic by lana del rey
pairing : joel miller x reader
word count : 2k
*unedited*
CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, joel is sooo super turned on by your tattoo, size kink, overstimulation, mentions of unspecified age gap, unprotected sex, tit-fucking, lots of heavy petting/groping, praise and hints of degrading, joel is a dirty depraved man muahaha
TRIGGER WARNINGS : uhh none come to mind but if there’s something that is triggering plz let me know. otherwise enjoy <3
a/n : hi guys i’m so sorry it took me FOREVER to update, i just wanted to post smth small bc i felt bad abt my lack of presence on here. i wanna say thank u so much for the love and support on my work it means the absolute WORLD to me. life has just been so draining and writing has fallen to the back burner and i HATE it but here, i hope this slightly makes up for it, i promise i have a lot in store!!
it had been just a little over a month. a little over a month without joel was time spent cruelly—longingly. and in all honesty, most people in jackson wondered why you were so distraught over his lack of presence, unable to comprehend why a young, pretty girl spent all her time trailing behind a stone-faced old man. but he was your stone-faced old man. his hard glare, monotone responses and hands that were perpetually stuck in fists, were all aspects you loved about him, despite the fact that they seemed to act as a wall to block everyone out. but what people didn’t realize was that those walls came right back down the second it came to you.
you figured their judgment lied in the point of view that they had of him. they only saw cold joel, unfriendly joel who had zero time for anyone except ellie and, maybe you. but they didn't see the way he was when you were alone. they didn’t see the way his face would drop all its coldness when he'd look at you, his fists following in suit and unraveling into gentle hands that would tighten around your jaw to pull you up for a kiss. instead, all they saw was a hardened old man leading on some girl young enough to be his daughter.
and even if he was, you didn't care. it was hard to care about anything when he'd press his mouth over yours, enveloping you in and cleansing you of everything you've ever worried about the second his tongue pushed past your lips. you replayed the way his scruff felt against your skin, your bare tummy…your inner thighs. you squirmed around in the booth at the tipsy bison, ignoring the comments about how you're going to regret getting the tattoo that you did, how joel is nice and all, but he's the last guy you should be getting a tattoo for.
you didn’t fucking care, the only thing that you did care about was how he would feel about it. and god, you hoped he liked it. you are definitely not one to handle pain all that well, and with the limited supplies cat had after tattooing ellie, you were extra nervous of all that could go wrong. but you missed joel so much, you needed something, anything, that felt like a piece of him was always with you.
the moth sticker on the neck of his guitar always did catch your eye, and when he was gone, you’d cradle his guitar, hold it the way he would and simply stare at the sticker. you imagined him the day he stuck it on, the way he’d look down at it, and maybe even smile to himself. it made your heart just about ache at the image.
you grew antsy to show joel the more you thought about it, but maintained what little patience you had left. you decided to keep it a surprise until you both got home, feeling as though the reveal was something that deserved to be private for you two alone.
—
“i have a surprise for you.” you whispered excitedly, clambering into his lap. he smiled up at you, pushing his glasses into his hair and shutting his book. his eyes fell to your fingers that slowly took their time unbuttoning each little button on the flannel that…suspiciously looks a whole lot like the one that went missing from his side of the closet.
“that so?” he hummed in that low gruff voice of his, a hot feeling stirring in his lower stomach as he watched the flannel begin to part the lower you went.
“mhm. i hope you like it.” you murmured, swallowing hard when you pulled the flannel open. his eyes lingered on yours for a moment before traveling down to the valley of your breasts, gasping when he saw a moth decorating your skin.
“are you out your goddamn mind?” joel exhaled in disbelief, tracing his fingers over the moth splayed across your sternum.
your hands gripped the fabric of your flannel, fingernail rolling over the button with nerves. “are you…are you mad?” you unintentionally whimpered, and he shook his head, sitting up with you in his lap, leaning forward and pulling his glasses back down to look at it better. “no baby no but, i…i coulda given you the sticker i had,” he laughed, unable to peel his eyes off of the tattoo. you rolled your eyes jokingly but in the back of your mind, fear was starting to settle in.
did he hate it?
“do you like it?” you asked quietly, praying he said yes. “oh, baby i love it,” he uttered heavily, bringing his stare from your chest up to your face. he pulled you by your chin, smile still on his lips while he kissed you. you cupped his face, thumbs circling around the stubble on his jaw, a giddy feeling beginning to bubble in your tummy.
“did it hurt?” he questioned with his lips still close to yours. you nodded, pecking him. “yeah. but i just thought of you the whole time,” you admitted truthfully, smiling fondly down at him. he shook his head, kissing you again. he made a sound of sympathy, running his thumb along your bottom lip. he stared at your chest before something clicked in him, making him flip you on your back.
he wasn’t phased by the surprised yelp that left you, instead he was focused on stopping your hands from trying to hide your bare chest with the flannel. “unh unh don’t cover up now, too pretty to be doin that,” he chastised lowly, devouring you with his eyes. you grew hot under him as he continued speaking. “looks so good on you…real good, wish i was there with ya while you got it done baby,” he groaned, hands groping your breasts, thumbs straying to caress the wings of the moth.
you whined hushedly, arching your back into his touch. “i do too but you were gone,” you formed something like a pout, pushing an upset finger into his chest. he tsked, holding your accusatory hand to kiss your palm. “i know, i know, already said m’sorry baby,” he murmured, taking advantage of the way you softened at his actions. he trailed kisses down your jaw, murmuring more apologies for his absences. his words were enough, and all you could do was just lean into him, taking every touch and kiss he gave you happily.
“can’t believe you did this,” he breathed out, pressing his growing bulge to your clothed core. you whined, sitting up on your elbows. your ankles lock around him eyeing him from under your eyelashes. “i just wanted to feel like you were always with me, i missed you so much joel,”
he breathed in sharply at your confessions, his cock twitching and heart racing. “oh baby,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead lovingly. “missed you too. thought about you all the time.” his hand rubbed your outer thigh making its way between your legs. “thought abt this,” he exhaled, feeling you buck down into his palm with a sweet little moan from your lips.
“missed it s’goddamn much, missed you the most though,” he muttered, the familiar twange in his voice sparking a smile across your face. he pushed your panties to the side, gathering your slick with the pads of his fingers, his cockhead weeping with precum when it registered just how wet you were with such small touches.
he pushed his middle finger in and wasted no time in fucking you with his digit just the way you liked. you cried out, gripping his wrist while he fucked into your little cunt with his finger, groaning to himself at how tight you felt.
he leaned down, kissing all over the tattoo, licking and nipping at your breasts while you tangled your fingers in his hair.
“joel—fuck, just, just—please fuck me,” you breathed out, the patience you’d been struggling to keep had finally ran out, and you couldn’t wait anymore, you needed to have him the way you’ve been craving all this time. “shit—alright, need it tha’ bad huh,” he grunted, pulling himself from out his boxers.
he held your waist with both large hands of his, pushing inside you, burying his face in your chest and groaning loudly at the way you grip him. you cried out, nails digging into his wide back, teeth grazing his shoulder while you tried to catch your breath.
the stretch burned and tingled, rippling through your skin and nerves in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. he pushed in and out of you slowly and gently, shaky little breaths that sounded obscene, fanned out over your lips from his parted mouth, and you breathed them all in, pulling him in closer.
his forehead rested on yours, kissing you while his hips grounded down into yours, taking his time to appreciate how fucking good you felt all around him. utterances of f-fuck, baby poured into your mouth from his, casting a warm sensation to spread across your cheeks.
he rocked into you, somehow going deeper with every thrust. knowing that he was filling you to the very brim sent him into a mindless delirium, and in return fastening the way he fucked you. gentleness morphed into rushed, desperation to feel you, every single inch and crevice and to make up for lost time.
you took him in, tightening your calves around his lower back, tugging at the back of his hair while his tongue lapped at your tits and sternum, losing his mind at the fact that you’ve marked yourself as his with this moth. your bold declaration of love and dedication to him turned him on in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom and the more he thought about it, the harder his hips crashed down into yours.
“missed me so much you had to get something that reminded you of me tattooed on ya’,” he grunted, grabbing one of your legs and haphazardly throwing it over his shoulder, shuffling even closer to fuck you harder. you couldn’t even reply correctly, all you could do was tearfully babble, nodding stupidly.
“love you so much joel,” you hiccuped, entire body being nearly fucked into the headboard, tits bouncing mesmerizingly with each thrust joel sends into you.
“say it again,” he groaned, cock twitching at your open admissions. “i love you, love you love you so much,” you cried, leg beginning to tremble on top of his shoulder.
“‘love you too baby, love you so goddamn much,” he breathed out in a rasp, shuddering a heavy sigh when you tighten and pulse all around his cock.
he loved the way his hands just engulfed you, his hand almost covering the entirety of one of your breasts, palming your soft flesh. you were so easy to squeeze, to pick up and hold and fuck, and joel took full advantage of his strength and how palpable for him you were.
with ease he pulled you up along with him, still impaled on his fat cock, feeling a familiar cockiness spread in his chest when you whimpered at the feeling of him so far inside of you.
he rested on his haunches, keeping you upright with his hands gripping your hips tight, face falling into your chest once more, his beard tucking the valley of your breasts.
your bodies flowed into each other’s fluidly, hips rolling and meeting each and every thrust like clockwork, his hips coming up only to be met with yours crashing down into his. it was addicting, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could barely even remember your own name, the only thing you could manage was fucking yourself onto joel.
“so deep,” you cried out through a series of whines and he laughed, bringing a big hand to your tummy, rubbing over where his cock bulged. you keened, lips trembling while you squeezed his shoulders. “i know baby i know,” he crooned, plastering an open mouth kiss onto you.
he slid a hand between your wet grinding bodies to rub circles over your soaked little clit, chuckling to himself when you choked on a sob at the contact. you shook like a leaf in his arms, his sweet little angel so close, he felt it in the way your cunt gripped his cock, and it filled him with pride knowing he was the only one who could unravel you like this.
“know you needa cum baby—you gonna ask me?” he growled in your mouth, biting your bottom lip testingly. you whimpered, arching your chest into his, a little pathetic nod following your actions. “s-sorry joel, please please let me cum, feels so good i-i dunno if i can hold it,” you whimpered, trying to fuck yourself on his cock.
the swirls from his fingers over your clit persisted and it made you vibrate in his hold, your impending orgasm making you lose what little control you had over your own body.
“c’mon baby give it to me, cum all over it,” he grunted gruffly, and you shook wildly, squeezing your eyes shut and collapsing in his arms while your orgasm reverberated all throughout your limbs
“joel—oh my—fuck!” you sobbed, bouncing on his cock while you rode out your orgasm, feeling milked dry as he rubbed your clit into over sensitivity.
“good baby, so fuckin’ good,” he drawled out lowly, patting your poor abused clit with his long fingers. “wanna do somethin’ for me?” he panted and you nodded eagerly.
“lie back for me,” he ordered and you obeyed, laying back down onto the pillows beneath you. he begrudgingly pulled out of your tight cunt, shushing you when you whimpered at the loss of him inside you.
he straddled you, feeling his cock ache in his rough palm when you stared up at him, resting on your elbows, cute tits perked and barely concealed from his flannel.
he shoved the material away from your flesh, jerking himself off before he put it between your tits. “push ‘em together f’me—ahh shit, y-yeah just like that—oh shit baby, keep lookin at me like that—“ he growled under his breath, fucking your tits with hard pistons from his hips.
“gonna cum, gonna cum on these cute fuckin’ tits baby,” he groaned, throwing his head back while you egged him on, whimpering and squeezing your thighs together at how he used your chest to cum, it was so hot seeing him fall apart on top of you, looking glorious and gorgeous even in such dirty circumstances.
you wrapped your lips around his leaking cockhead, the corners of your mouth peeking upwards with smugness at the way he gasped and shivered at your actions. “shit,” he groaned, his own orgasm taking over his body.
he came in your mouth, your tits still engulfing his shaft. he twitched on your tongue, whimpering to himself at the way you sucked on his tip. he pulled himself away from your plump lips, starting to soften from how sensitive he was.
he laid beside you, pulling you into his arms once more, feeling content and right with the world when you nestled into your rightful place on his chest.
“still in awe over you.” he murmured, running his fingertips up and down your arm. “you’ll get used to the tattoo soon,” you giggled and he shook his head. “meant you…you as a whole baby.” he whispered and you looked up at him, pupils dilating into hearts. “joel,” you uttered, leaning up to kiss him. “i love you,” you mumbled sleepily. he smiled, kissing your clammy forehead. “i love you too baby.”
#joel miller x reader#the last of us smut#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#game joel miller#the last of us hbo#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal joel miller#pedro pascal#ellie williams tlou
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This is inspired by the art done by u_rano on tiktok - I may turn this into a full blown fanfiction, idk yet but this is what I've got in my head so far 😀 I promise it gets better - if you want chapter two lemme know! 🥲
This fanfic is a fem-reader. Sorry for the confusion fusion and not specifying I'm a noon when it comes to this 🥲
Chapter One: New Neighbors
The hustling and bustling of Pikes Street Market in Seattle had always made your heart palpitate with utter dread. Far too many unfamiliar faces in a place that was overflowing with sensations that never ceased to make your anxiety skyrocket. The only reason you had even came here was because your dear old friend Johnny had asked to meet up with you. There you sat, perched at the far end of the uncomfortable wooden bench just outside of your shared favorite chocolate shop, head on a constant swivel as your eyes hunted for that ever familiar mohawk of the Scotsman.
Two hours had already passed since you were supposed to meet him, and although you were certain he of all people would never stand you up, you began to let your overthinking mind get the better of you. What if he got into a wreck? What if he got kidnapped? What if he got called back to duty early, and couldn't tell you because it was a top secret covert operation? The possibilities hurtling through your mind at the speed of light only worsened your erratic anxieties, making your heart kick start with new found speed that sent your stomach spiraling with nausea.
The wind picked up, the sunny yet still chilly day had you a shivering mess in your sweater - oh how you wished you had dressed warmer. You were a native here, born and raised in the pacific northwest - you were no stranger to the bipolar weather of spring. One moment sunny, the next a torrential downpour - it varied every year but still, you expected the same. A sigh escaped your slightly chapped lips as you stood, shoving your hands into your pockets of your washed out skinny jeans to find some semblance of warmth. You decided if you were to be stood up by the one man who had yet to do so to you, you at least deserved a treat - what better treat than a gigantic chocolate covered strawberry?
Carefully you opened the door, inhaling deeply as the scent of melted chocolate and freshly baked pastries enveloped you, calming your anxious heart significantly. Your lips twitched, turning up in the corners into a small smile, oh how you adored this place - memories of your childhood ran through your mind like an old film reel. Moments captured of you and your little sisters taking turns sitting on the bench inside, next to the giant stuffed teddy bear that you had named Rupert - it had fit his sophisticated gaze and so, Rupert he was to remain. A faint giggled tumbled through your lips as you met Ruperts beady gaze, his top hat and monocle you'd given him when you were thirteen still ever present though worn with age. It had been ten years after all.
"Ah, there she is! Was wondering if you were just gonna sit outside all day and leave me all alone in here!" Chuckled Gregory, the lively Elders British man that had takeb over the early afternoon shift a few years prior. Your eyes shot to the counter, smile widening as you rolled your eyes.
"Nah, I couldn't do that to you! I had to get my chocolate fix eventually - besides, you've had people come and go all day." You retorted, making your way to the counter and resting your elbows on it, eyes filled with mirth as you watched the old man restock the display cases.
Gregory shrugged, "Eh, they're not you love - you're far better company that sniveling little brats that have no manners or respect, and teenagers too focused on their phones to even utter a complete cohesive sentence. I mean honestly, how-" His rant was cut short as the little bell over the opposite door dinged, signaling another customer was entering the shop. His face paled, causing your brow to furrow in confusion and worry before you turned you e/c orbs towards the culprit.
A chill seeped into your bones and down your spine as you took in the sheer size of them. Compared to your little five foot frame they towered over you - making you feel impeccably smaller, something of which you had never thought was even possible. Your eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them, taking in what little features you could. The both wore masks of some sort - one had a skull on it, and the other wore a snipers hood, something you only knew because Johnny had shown you one while giving you a tour of the army vase him and his team were stationed at. His eyes were a deep hazel, swirls of honeyed amber mixed with hunter green and mahogany - though pretty to look at they were unbelievably cold and uninviting. Worse yet, he stared back at you, almost as if you of all people were a threat to him. The black that surrounded his eyes only served to unnerve you even more so you cast your gaze away, only to land on his companion.
The other seemed less hostile though not by much, his eyes were a pretty sky blue though they too were swimming in black but encompassed by blonde thick lashes. This one towered over his skull masked companion, having to be damn near seven feet tall. Broad shoulders, thick muscled arms, powerful thighs and a slim waist - you just new he was ripped to filth under those layers. You blushed softly, shaking from your stupor and clearing your throat as you turned back to Gregory with a forced, thin lipped smile.
"Well, it's been nice chatting with you Gregory but I've got errands to run since I've been stood up. If you'd be so kind, I'd like a chocolate covered strawberry to go please." You cursed yourself inwardly as your voice shook, loathing your mere existence as panic laced your heart. Your anxiety was back and it was even worse than before. Your hands were sweating and shook slightly, your breaths were starting to come in short little bursts - you were well on your way to a panic attack when Gregory acknowledged your request.
"Of course love, it's on me today - no pretty lady like yourself deserves to be stood up. You're too good for whoever the hell he is anyways. Here, enjoy it - be sure to say bye to Rupert, I'm sure he missed you too." He chuckled, sending you a wink and waving you off as he turned and strode towards the ominous men lurking in the far corner. You snorted, grabbing the little box that housed your favorite treat and hurried out the door, blowing a kiss to Rupert before you left.
The cold outside for once, soothed you, helping you take deep breaths to calm your racing heart once more as you made your way back to your apartment. Your eyes glanced up towards the sky, dark clouds had begun to roll in, signaling to you that it would rain soon. Your pace picked up to a brisk walk, having decided that you did NOT want to be caught in the rain lest you get sick again. As you rounded the corner your phone buzzed, the vibrations sending tingling down your right leg causing you to stop in your tracks. Hastily your hands fumbled it out of your pocket, swiping the green little phone icon and pressing the mobile device against your ear.
"Hello?" You answered, eyes frantically taking in your surroundings as you forced your feet to regain their momentum.
"You a'right lass? You sound worried?" Johnny's Scottish brogue filled the pensive silence that had enveloped you. Within seconds your mood shifted considerably, eyes narrowing in irritation and vexation.
"Why would I not be worried Johnny? It wasn't like we had made plans together hours ago or anything." You snapped back crinkling your nose in disgust at yourself as you felt tears beginning to well up in your e/c eyes. Rustling could be heard in the background, a muffled female voice groggy from sleep sounded, making your vexation even worse, "Are you fucking kidding me Johnny!? You stood me up, ME, just so you could get laid? What the actual fuck!" You snarled, mentally debating if you should yeet your phone off into the distance with the same force the halfing did to the Ring of Sauron into Mordor. Your eyes burned from both the cold wind now barging against your face and the unshed tears you fought to keep from spilling over.
Johnny groaned and you could hear his palm connecting with his forehead as it finally dawned on him what day it was, "Fuck I'm so sorry lass, time escaped me and you know how one thing leads to another and-" You cut him off, shaking your head even though you knew he could see you. The disappointment and self-resentment you had inside you was swelling, you hated that you were jealous of a mystery woman you didn't even know. You weren't physically attracted to Johnny, it was more so that he had deemed her presence more important than yours - at least that is what you surmised inside your head.
"No Johnny, no I don't know how that is because that doesn't happen to me. I'm not desirable enough for that to even be a thought. Regardless, we had plans and you promised to be here and you weren't. Hours I sat outside and waited for you and you were too busy fucking some twat - real nice Johnny. I'll let you get back to it, I hope you enjoy what's little is left of your leave." With a sniffle you hung up, effectively silencing whatever response he could offer you and subsequently turning off your phone entirely to ignore any texts or calls he'd send your way.
The tears you had so desperately fought to keep back fell, staining your cheeks with their salty essence as you turned the corner where your apartment complex was nestled on. You dug your keys from your pocket, head tilted down as you blinked rapidly to clear your eyes so you could find the right key that would let you inside. Your hands shook as you fiddled with your keys, grumbling insults towards Johnny as you did so. Was it too much to ask for just one person to genuinely seek put your company? To simply remember your existence passed when it was convenient for them to do so? No, you reasoned, it wasn't too much to ask.
Just as your fingers wrapped around the very key you needed, your body slammed into a wall, knocking you off of your feet. A squeaked 'oof' slipped from between your lips as you felt something thick wrap around your waist and crush you into the very wall you collided into. Your head snapped up, a gasp bursting from your chest as your eyes connected with the sky blues you'd stared into only fifteen minutes prior. Your mouth hung open, eyes wide as a blush dusted over your pale cheeks. He cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised in question as he took in your shocked features.
"You should be more careful Schatz, you could have gotten hurt." Your brain processed his words slowly, eyes blinking rapidly before you carefully pulled away from his hold.
"S-sorry." You mumbled, cursing yourself for stuttering as you gathered up your keys and treat, "It's been a little bit of a rough day, I should have been looking where I was going." You mumbled, keeping your gaze lowered as your hands fiddled with your keys. You didn't bother letting him respond, you simply stepped around his massive frame and hurried inside your complex, eyes glancing up every so often as you unlocked the main entrance and scurried off to the elevator.
As always, the wait for the stupid contraption was excruciating and of course the entire first floor of your building was all windows. You could feel his gaze burning a hole into your back but you refused to turn and look. You'd already embarrassed yourself enough today, adding onto that would wreck your fragile mind even more. The buzzed ding from behind the metal sliding doors signaled to you that the elevator had finally reached the first floor, a breath of relief slipped past your lips as you moved slightly to the right in case someone was already inside. The doors slid open with a slight scrape, the noise making you grimace as you clutched your keys to your chest. You glanced up and froze as your gaze connected with the skull masked man - of course he'd be the one exiting the elevator.
Your eyes watered as your heartbeat skyrocketed once more. Being unable to take his smoldering gaze, you turned on your heels and bolted like your life depended on it. Your feet carried you up each flight of stairs, your lungs burning with each breath you forced in. You wanted to blame this entire day on Johnny, but you knew it was your ultimate shifty luck that caused this mess. Tears spilled over, blazing a trail down your flushed cheeks and splattering haphazardly onto the metal stairs you practically flew up. You were thankful that no one hardly used the stairs, you couldn't take your nosey neighbor Patrice pestering you about what was wrong - she never ceased her prying and quite frankly you were in no mood to bother being polite.
Eventually you shouldered open the door to your floor, feet finally dragging you to your door as you sniffle. You wiped away your tears with the left sleeve of your sweater, your right hand shoving your apartment key into the lock and turning. Just as you pocketed your keys and rested your hand on the know the faint buzzed ding of the elevator down the opposite side of the hall gathered your attention. You lifted your gaze as the smudged doors opened, your face contorting into pure devastation as both uncannily ominous men stepped off the elevator. Before they could even look at you, you shouldered your door open and hurried inside. You didn't even bother to turn on any lights as you slammed it closed, hurrying to slide the deadbolt into place. You pressed your front against the door, closing your left eye as your right looked out the peephole.
You watched as the stopped in front of the door across the hall from yours, the skull man pulling out a silver key and sliding it into the lock before he stood aside and waved the taller male through. Both men stood there for a moment, silently communicating with one another before their gazes simultaneously turned towards your door, as if they could see through it, as if they could see you. You shoved yourself harder than you anticipated from your door, stumbling over your own feet but thankfully, catching and steadying yourself on the wall. You ran a hand through your h/l h/c hair, taking a shuddering breath as you reminded yourself that that notion was entirely impossible.
No one had the ability to see through doors with only their eyes - you were fine now, safely locked away into your cave of an apartment. You closed your eyes, leaning your back against the wall and slowly letting gravity slide you down until your butt hit the floor. You kicked off your shoes, laughing at yourself for being so pathetic - you would start taking your medications first thing in the morning, your anxiety was off the charts and you needed all the help you could get to control it.
One thing was for certain though, you'd make sure to avoid your new neighbors at all costs.
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRsLejjN/
#könig x reader#könig cod#könig call of duty#könig x you#vampire#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#john soap mactavish#ghost x konig#ghost x könig x reader
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Aww! I just read your little Kaveh headcanons! I was wondering if you had an idea of what would happen if Kaveh got lost cuz he didn't hold Alhaitham's hand. I wanna draw a little thing but I can't think rn (hope dis makes sense lol)
Ahh, I'm so glad you liked it! I was just gonna do some headcanons but ended up writing a little drabble, hehe~
Little Kaveh and Carer Alhaitham Fic:
Hold My Hand
Kaveh was having an absolutely fantastic day.
Going out with Alhaitham was a good day in and of itself, but today was particularly special; one of Kaveh's favorite museums had been closed for renovations for nearly two years, and it had just reopened the previous weekend. Alhaitham (who was incredibly thoughtful despite insisting otherwise) had surprised Kaveh with tickets to see the new exhibits, and the pair had chosen today for their visit.
They had been exploring the museum for hours, but Kaveh was still overflowing with happy energy even as the sun began to dip below the tops of nearby buildings. An announcement that the museum would be closing in fifteen minutes echoed through the halls, passing in one of Kaveh's ears and right out the other.
"Haitham, look!" Kaveh pointed toward an advertisement for an exhibit further down a long hallway: it was a huge scale model of one of Kaveh's favorite ancient buildings in the city. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he scampered away down the hall and turned a few corners until he reached his destination several rooms away.
The model was just as spectacular as Kaveh could have ever hoped. He poured over all the little details, circling around the exhibit and reading all the plaques, babbling excitedly and pointing at parts he recognized.
"Haitham! Isn't this the best?" Kaveh bounced happily as he turned back to his partner, only to find himself alone in the room. Excitement immediately drained from his mind, replaced with cold anxiety at being left alone. The last vestiges of adulthood his brain was clinging to fell away, and suddenly the empty room felt huge and terrifying.
"H-haitham?" No response. "Dada? Dada!" Kaveh ran to the entrance of the room, trying and failing to hold back the tears that filled his eyes when all he saw beyond the doorway was yet another empty room. It was very close to closing time now, and imagining himself locked away in the dark all alone had Kaveh bawling openly in seconds.
"D-dada!" he sobbed, standing frozen in the doorway, eyes screwed shut and hands clenched in the front of his shirt. He was spiralling, small and alone, until-
"Kaveh!"
Kaveh's eyes popped open and his crying momentarily ceased as he was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. It took only a split-second of processing before he recognized his dada's arms around him, and his tears began again, this time filled with relief. He clung to Alhaitham's shirt and sobbed into his shoulder as his carer slowly rubbed his back.
"Kaveh, you know not to run off like that..." Alhaitham's voice was low but not angry. He gave Kaveh a few more moments to calm down, then moved away so he could gently wipe the tears from his baby's cheeks. "This is why you always hold my hand, remember?"
"S-sorry, Dada... Didn't mean to..." Kaveh, scared his dada was mad at him, nearly started crying again, but Alhaitham stopped that line of thought with a quick kiss to Kaveh's forehead.
"I'm not mad at you, Kav. I was just worried." The taller man straightened up and took Kaveh's hand firmly in his. "The museum is closing soon; how about we head home, and we can come back and explore more another day."
The prospect of returning to the museum later cheered Kaveh somewhat, and he followed Alhaitham toward the entrance with little fuss. His head still felt fuzzy and small, but his dada's warm hand in his assured him that he was safe and all was well. He knew that Alhaitham would always take care of him; even though others might see the man as distant or even cold, Kaveh knew the gentle, kind carer beneath, and loved Alhaitham for it.
By the time they exited the museum, the sun had fully set, and the city was lighting up around them. Alhaitham pulled Kaveh into his side, sheltering him from the winter chill. Kaveh peered up at him, eyes hopeful.
"Dada? When we get home, can we have soup an' playtime?"
Alhaitham sighed. "You aren't tired out yet?"
Kaveh grinned; he saw right through Alhaitham's apparent exasperation. "Nuh-uh!"
"...Fine then. But you can't complain when Dada says it's bedtime, alright?"
Kaveh nodded and smiled brightly. Though the cold fear of his earlier ordeal hadn't melted completely, it was being thawed by the prospect of his warm home and comforting partner. Kaveh leaned into Alhaitham's side, relaxing against the man as his mind drifted toward happier thoughts.
I'm not a huge fan of the ending, but I think this turned out alright, I hope you like it!
If anyone would like to request headcanons, check out this post! (They won't be full fics like this, just lists.) I also have an ask game active~
Thanks for reading!
#age regression#sfw agere#genshin agere#fandom agere#syskid#system little#writing#my writing#little dragon talks#genshin#kaveh#alhaitham
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Thank you for the delicious food, I'm very much flattered you answered with the chapter, I actually got super giddy because of it haha
Good to hear ;-O
A filler chapter lol, I don't know what I was thinking about revealing that reader is from a different world should have kept it secret for longer, now it's awkward and cringey but I'll roll with it lol
Next chapter is going to make reader and phel closer I promise lol
Aphelios x Reader - "Dreaming of You" (Part 6)
“It’s more like I’ve read about it, Alune,” you took a deep breath and continued, “How much do you and Aphelios know about me?”
Alune gravitated towards you, closing the distance between the two of you. Her head tilted to the side and her hair soon followed. She soon answered your question. “Little Beam, Mother Moon sent you to us.”
“Well... I think Mother Moon meant that quite... Literally,” you took a deep breath, ready to explain everything and trying not to sound too crazy. “My guess would be that I’ve been somehow transmigrated or teleported to Ionia, honestly. From a faraway place, of course.”
Aphelios watched from the corner of his eye as the scene unfolded.
Alune closed the gap even more, seemingly excited as you revealed that tiny bit of information. She pressed her palms together and closed her eyes. “Mother Moon is amazing, isn’t she?”
Yeah, Alune wasn’t impressed with your information. Aphelios, however, looked straight at your form. No longer watching from the corner of his eye. He was waiting for you to continue.
“Yeah... Seems like she holds immense power.” You continued to walk, looking at your surroundings.
You were back on the original track, the night as vibrant as ever. Not much change could be seen, though. The mountains seemed endless, stretching across the vast field of vision presented before you. You focused on the feeling of the wind as you contemplated your next words.
“In my world... Runeterra is not real. It’s a story with multiple stories woven into it, deepening the world. So, I guess I’m knowledgeable about many things when it comes to Runeterra, although I can be clueless when it comes to some things.”
Okay, you lied about it being a part of a story, kind of... Since it’s originally from a game. But you doubted they knew what video games were and you were not ready to open that can of worms yet.
Alune mused, a quiet hum filling the air. Aphelios offered a raised eyebrow as he looked at you.
You just walked ahead, putting more strength into your steps.
“That’s interesting, Little Moonlight. Can you tell me more about the place where you come from?” Alune asked, enthusiasm in her voice as she flew in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.
“Sure... Where should I start?” You agreed to her request, ready to answer most questions that could be thrown your way.
You truthfully told her as much as you could about your own world. Information ranging from animals, to nature, to lack of magic and the language and different cultures. She seemed really hung up on the lack of magic, wondering how you could survive. Which led you down another rabbit hole, technology and other advancements humans made over the years.
Warm sunrays hit your skin as you made your way along the trail. You followed Aphelios obediently, depending on him to lead the way. With how effective today’s hike was, you were already halfway through the way to Weh’le. In turn, it meant that soon enough you would discover what Mother Moon has prepared for you.
As warm morning sun rays enveloped both you and Aphelios, you enjoyed the tranquility that took over your body. Alune eventually disappeared as she usually did around this time. There was only you and Aphelios at this point.
Since it was morning, it was time to find a safe space to rest. Not too far away from the main trail, not too sunny. You found a small butte some distance away, enough to cast a shadow over both of you.
As you placed your things on your right side, your legs could finally rest. Aphelios stood on your left.
He brought his right hand to his shoulder and massaged it, before leaning against the stone wall and sliding down, until he was finally sitting on the ground under his form. A sight left his lips as he relaxed.
“Hey, Aphelios.”
Aphelios looked in your direction, his head tilting to the side as he cranked his neck to look at you.
“Do you have any questions? About my world. Alune was quite curious, but if there’s anything you want to know, you can just ask.”
The man looked to the ground, thinking deeply before swinging his head from left to right, clearly signaling that he doesn’t have any questions. A hum leaves his mouth. He leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes, ready to rest.
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