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#j us fic
slytherinshua · 19 days
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113 L. SEUNGJUN
genre. onf universe au (byubyu specifically). fluff. warnings. kissing. seungjun kinda overthinks a tad but reader sets him straight. seungjun is locked up for time travel. a brief mention of guns and a past wound ig? pairing. seungjun x fem!reader. wc. 1.5k. request. no. a/n. i'm pretty proud of this fic idk why skdjs onf lore fics are always so fun to write im still fascinated by their lore even tho i don't understand it too well lol but i try my best.
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The sound of metal clashing outside made a groggy Seungjun blink his eyes open. He had been locked up for over 48 hours now with no access to food. He was allowed a little water if he begged the android guards extra nicely. His throat was scratchy and dry from the time spent locked up despite the water supply. They certainly didn’t treat time travel criminals as nicely as escape rebels. 
Seungjun was sure he looked horrible by now. Or “a little bit scruffy around the edges”, as you would say, even the time when he had a gaping wound in his side. He missed the way you could make light of any situation right about now. He would do anything to have a reason to laugh again.
Seungjun was no stranger to the computer operated prison cells he was often shoved into after being caught. Years ago he had been thrown in for smaller crimes, but got out within a couple hours when he figured out the lock code while no one was looking. This time, it was a lot harder. They had upgraded their system; those damn robots learned quicker than the human brain could. 
He had almost accepted his fate of rotting in the small square room by the time 24 hours had passed, but he still kept out a sliver of hope. You were still out there and free, which meant you could still come to save him. 
He wanted to laugh whenever he found himself stuck in a situation where he had to rely on your good graces to get out. One of these days he was sure his sweet words and gentle kisses wouldn’t be enough to convey his thanks. You were sure to get sick of him eventually, right? He was always the one messing things up.
His pride didn’t entirely allow him to accept that you were better than him, though he knew in the back of his mind that you were. You were perfect wherever he was faulty and just as decent at the skills that he professed he excelled in. Maybe that was why you were perfect for each other— or, rather, why you were too perfect for him.
It was strange how the human mind always wandered back to the people they loved. So much time and energy was spent just reminiscing memories, and while he found it beautiful, he also acknowledged it as one of humanity's weaknesses. The androids certainly didn’t spend their hard-drive space with personal connections. They didn’t have anything to lose, and that was why it was so hard to win against them. 
Seungjun shook off the thoughts in his head and focused on the noises he heard from the corridor. From his watch, he knew it was deep in the night hours, a time when security usually lessened in numbers for recharge sessions. Now was as good a time as you were ever going to get if you were coming to save him. And, by another glance at the watch, Seungjun had a pretty good idea that you were.
The entire team’s locations were shared across the watches; a necessary safety measure for situations like now. The little red dot that showed your location was moving steadily closer to Seungjun’s, and that was when a shadow of a smile started to form on his face.
He stood up and walked to the edge of his cell, peaking out into the dark corridor while also being careful not to get too close to the electrically charged door. If he touched it, he would get shocks charging through his body— something he learnt the hard way. In order to escape, he’d have to take down the electricity system, but pulling off such a scheme without the android guards finding out was beyond his power with such limited resources. You, however, might just be able to pull it off undetected. 
A hushed curse just barely reached his ears, and he perked up, trying to hear anything else. It definitely came from you; there was no way any of the robots would let such profanity past their voice record logs. They weren’t the best with advanced vocabulary.
Soon enough, your figure appeared into view, searching around quickly between cells. Once your eyes fell upon the room with the code that read ‘113 L. SEUNGJUN’, you were quick to rush up to the other side of the door.
“Hey, time travelling dumbass. Long time, no see.” You whispered out with a smirk playing on your lips. Seungjun could feel his heart leap in his chest and he returned the smile. He had really missed you.
You quickly punched in the code to his cell and Seungjun watched as the door flickered away. You reached out for his wrist, already pulling him along before he could ask what the escape plan was. You seemed more than familiar with the layout of the building even in the dark. Seungjun opted to let you lead him to the way out without a word. He still didn’t know if there were any guards who might be on patrol.
It was a smooth escape, and you both were out into the cool night air before too long. Seungjun let the crisp fresh air fill his lungs fully, now realising how he had been holding his breath out of caution on the way out.
“How did you disarm the security cameras without getting caught?” He asked once he had caught his breath. Though he had been mostly focused on getting out, he had noticed the distinct lack of little red flashing dots that had been his constant reminder that whatever he did was being watched those 2 days straight.
“Minkyun figured out how to hack it from the inside, so all I had to do was find the control room. Hyojin got me the blueprints and Jaeyoung helped set up the game-plan. My job was pretty simple; get in, disarm, and then go find my stupid ass boyfriend.” You grinned, ruffling his hair as you said the last part.
Seungjun would’ve complained about you messing up his hair, or even the crude nickname that he secretly adored, but he had been apart from you too long to object to anything that came out of your mouth. He was hanging onto every word, soaking up the sound of your voice as his eyes studied yours fondly.
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet. What, did something else happen while you were in there?” You questioned with a quirked brow. Seungjun just shook his head at your question.
“Nothing happened. I’m just glad you came for me.” 
“You didn’t seriously think I would ditch you that easily, right?” You stared at him in shock as his eyes told you all the confirmation you needed. “Lee Seungjun!” You smacked his shoulder as you called out his name, causing him to jump and rub the spot afflicted in pain. 
“Do whatever it takes to get this thought into your ant-sized brain, okay? I am in love with you which means I will not leave you behind. Ever. Even if I get blasted by one of those androids and die— I’ll haunt you as a ghost until you realize that you can’t get rid of me that easily! Don’t you ever forget that.” You told him sternly, your eyebrows furrowed.
He wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, or maybe kiss you until he couldn’t breathe; he wasn’t sure which. How he had ever ended up winning your heart was beyond him, but he was so grateful that he had. And so, he decided to go with the third option.
“I won’t forget.” He whispered, leaning closer until his breath hit your lips. 
You took the first move, pushing your lips on his, starting the gentle dance of passion and care. You didn’t mind that his lips were dry and slightly chapped from the days locked up. No matter what state they were in, they still felt perfect over yours. He pulled you closer almost desperately, but you were just as eager to have him as close as possible. The effect of his absence for 2 days on you was something you never wished to repeat. Though you were sure it would come back to bite you someday; you needed Seungjun like oxygen. 
The kiss lasted until Seungjun was gasping for breath, just like he had hoped. Still craving your touch, he stayed in your arms, his chest pressed against yours as close as possible until he could feel your heart racing as much as his. 
And he realized that maybe you weren’t too perfect for him after all. 
Maybe you were just right. Maybe he could be yours without feeling guilty about all the trouble he dragged you in. Maybe you even liked how rebellious he was, Seungjun thought as you curled your fingers through the section of bright red hair blanketed under his raven strands. The thought made him smile, summoning that warm feeling in his chest that he had always been a little wary of in the past. 
Maybe he liked having someone to rely on as well, even if it was another weakness he had to account for. He made up his mind that no matter what, he wouldn’t doubt you again; you deserved at least that much, after all.
↳ onf taglist: @eternalgyu,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @seunghancore,, @haecien
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damianbugs · 1 year
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it's just a little interesting that people love genuinely kind and good hearted characters but somehow batmans unwavering belief that people can be better and people can be changed is not enough? even characters within the same media are praised and respected for being the bigger hero and choosing to save rather than to hurt and yet bruce's no-kill rule is often a point of ridicule for his character.
what is so wrong with having a immensely complicated character have slightly less complicated morals about empathy? for a character who loves and hurts and loses why is this something so unbelievably unrealistic for a hero to believe in. what is outlandish about people being people before they are a product of their misfortunes?
of course it isn't a perfect mindset, it isn't even a healthy one in a lot of cases — but it is something that has stayed true to its mission and so i think it deserves a little more thinking before being dragged around as lazy writing.
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skitskatdacat63 · 9 months
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Every time I read Fernando cursing in fic, I can only think about this clip and then my brain short-circuits
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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months
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✨Tear You Apart Part 1: You’re Mine✨
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Series Masterlist
My first dark! Joel fic and I think I’m obsessed. I plunged into this head on and got major inspiration from the vampire scene in Saltburn and Little Red Riding Hood. This is filthy and I absolutely love it! There might be a part 2 for this! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. I would love to hear your thoughts 🖤
“The wolves prey upon the lambs in the darkness of the night, but the blood stains remain upon the stones in the valley until the dawn comes, and the sun reveals the crime to all.” - Kahlil Gibran
- Summary: Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you in the forest?
- Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)
- Word Count: 9,718
- Tags: Dark themes, Little red riding hood references, dark! Joel, Joel is a menace, oral, fingering, choking, unprotected P in V, cream pie, filthy smut, degrading actions, not really violent but lots of dark themes, manipulation, rough sex, dirty talk, Joel calls reader little lamb, possessive Joel, feral! Joel, post outbreak! Joel, controlling Joel, dom! Joel, submissive reader, Joel x fem! reader, Joel is in his late 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Songs: “Change” and “Rosemary” by Deftones
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The wind tears through the frigid night of Jackson, banging its haunted whispers against the side of the little wooden house. It screams in warning beware, beware. He’s coming. A glaring caution sign from the ghosts of the forest. They scream your name, shrieking and bellowing from the soil below as they make their way above the cold, vacant dirt, floating their way to your doorstep. Clawing, knocking, warning you that he’s close. Get out, leave. He’s near, he’s near. Run.
You want to run, want to sprint out of bed and run as far as you can, but you can’t. He’ll find you, stalk you till he hunts down your scent and discovers you hiding. You pray that he won’t, but he will. He always finds you. And when he does he takes and takes until you have nothing left, feeding his anger and bitter soul, using your body to escape whatever hell he had been through in the past.
You know he’s lost something special, something close to him. You can see it in the wrinkles that encase his forehead. See it in the dark brown flecks of his tired eyes. See it in the way he carries himself, worn and tattered like the old leather boots on his feet. Can feel it when he crowds your body as he lays over you in the middle of the night. Can feel it on his calloused fingers as he bleeds you dry from the inside, hollowing you out and sucking your lifeless soul and taking it as his own.
You never know what he’s lost, can never figure out what it was that was stolen from him. He doesn’t talk about it, will never let you in even though you beg him to. But you can feel the pain, the absolute agony that holds close to his cold heart. It’s whatever he’s lost that drives his rage, his desire for retribution. And it’s that loss that feeds his desire to take, destroy everything in his winding path. That’s why he comes, always at night, always at the dead blackness of night. He comes crawling to you, needing a way to soothe his scorching temper, needing a way to bury the agony of it all.
He’s broken, just like the shattered black military watch he wears on his left wrist. You try to ask him about it, try to graze your fingers over the broken glass, but he growls at you. Gnashing his sharp teeth as he releases the caged up wolf inside him. You know better, but you push back. Let me in, let me in, you scream. But he never does. That just pushes him further, bringing out the beast from within.
He’s coming closer. Almost here, almost here, the ghosts whisper in warning. You can feel him, as if he was already there at your doorstep, as if he was already clawing his fingers into your fragile skin. Tearing you apart piece by piece just the way he likes it.
Your body starts sweating, you toss and turn against the cold sheets that cling to your damp skin. He’s coming, they call. And it’s then that you can feel him as if he’s standing right outside. You can feel the weight of his steps on the cold, snowy ground. You can hear his shaky, quivering breaths as he trudges through the patches of white snow, can feel the warm breath as he blows it out, can reach your shaky fingers out as his breath kisses the sky. You can feel it, can almost taste it as it whips through the wind, landing up against your fogged up bedroom window.
Run. Hide. He’s here, he’s here, the voices warn. But you don’t listen, can’t listen. Joel’s deep voice washes the voices out, makes them flee from your mind. Mine, mine, he screams in your head as he claims you over and over again with his hands. Those big, rough hands that you so desperately want wrapped around you.
You shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t desire it, but you crave him like you’ve never craved anything in your life. He’s like a disease. Festering and invading your body, making you sick with want, with need. Pulling at your insides so much that you can’t ignore it. Can’t ignore the deep ache in between your thighs as you yearn for his touch, for his entire being. And you’re certain that you’re just as fucked in the head as him now.
He makes you sick. Sick with need, with desire. You shouldn’t crave him, shouldn’t want this. Most days he’s unkind, barely speaking, barely able to tolerate his own self. But he gives as much as he takes, and you crave the way he gives. And now you’re just as bad as him, just as selfish and needing as him. Mine, mine, you call in your mind. He’s yours just as much as you are his.
Your eyes open wide as you look at the small clock that hangs on the wall, the hand ticking and ticking as it reaches 1:00am, the time he usually comes after his late night watch shift. Your body quakes from the anticipation of him. You can hear him now. He’s here.
You feel the weight of his heavy feet against the wooden floorboards as he opens the front door, hearing it shriek as it closes behind him with a soft shutter as it knocks against the glass window. He’s coming, he’s coming.
You hear the narrow stairs creak as he climbs up the steep steps. He’s coming for you, coming to claim you, to devour you. He’s like a wolf in the night as he stalks his prey. His dark eyes search for you, your scent hanging in the air as he comes for it, chases it, wanting to taste it. Wanting to rip you to shreds under the weight of his body as he claws and pounces on you. Claiming you as his one and only as he dominates you. But you fully oblige, always surrendering yourself to him completely.
You’re little red riding hood, and he’s the big bad wolf that wants to eat you alive as you spill yourself for him, letting him mark his paws all over you until you can only see the blacks of his eyes as he claims you. My, what large eyes you have. But he’s talking to you as he’s in between your legs, lapping up your flavor as he looks up at you with those dark pits and smiles with his sharp canines glistening in the night. And God, you’re already wet thinking about it, already trembling in the sheets as you wait for him, waiting for him to completely ravage you and destroy you until you’re no more.
You want to touch yourself, want to put an end to that aching throb in your center as slick pools inside you, fighting hard to hold back the urge. He’ll be mad if you don’t wait for him. If he sees you fingering yourself before he gets to you, he’ll be furious. He’s selfish, always so fucking selfish with you. He wants to be the one that makes you feel good, under his conditions. He’s dominating, controlling, wanting your orgasms to come from him and him alone. He’s greedy, but he always gives, feeding into your sweet desires as he revels in your body, in your arousal, in your taste.
You hear the rusty doorknob twist and turn under his grasp, hear the door start to creak open as his dark form clouds against the darkness of the hallway. Take me, take me, you beg in your mind. And you swear he can hear you as he stalks towards you with his massive form.
He’s tired, you can see it in his weathered stare as his dark eyes search for you under the silky sheets. He throws off his tan, heavy coat and tosses it to the side of the room. As he makes his way to you, he pushes up his plaid, green sleeves slowly, exposing thick veins that spiral down his arms, ending in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight, taking in the way his arms flex against his sleeves. They pull and tug so tight that they’re bound to rip at any moment as his bulging muscles encase your nimble body.
He stops at the end of the bed, pulling back the clean sheets as he takes in the sheer nightgown you’re in. His eyes trail over your body as his deep scowl turns into something primal, dominant. “Get up,” he demands as he yanks you up by the wrist and pulls you to a standing position. There’s never such a thing as a hello or hi, beautiful. Only ever demands and commands as he comes for one thing, your body.
He pulls up the wooden chair that sits in the corner of the dark room and places it in the middle of the floor. He looks up at you with the darks of his eyes and curls his index finger, coaxing you to sit in the chair. Your body is hypnotized as you dance your way over to him under a waning spell that puts you at ease.
“Sit,” he says firmly as he pushes you down gently, your back hitting the hard wood as you sit up straighter, preparing yourself to give yourself to him. Your hands fall flat against your thighs as the sheer nightgown barely reaches the tips of your knees. You can feel the cold wind as it blows hard outside your window, can almost taste the white snowflakes that linger on his leather boots.
Your breathing goes ragged as he circles the chair. Circling and circling as he trails a calloused finger over your bare shoulders as he takes you in with his chocolate eyes, inspecting you as he drinks in your features. Your throat goes dry as you watch him stalk around you. He’s a hungry wolf and he’s starving for you.
“Tell me, have you been a good girl today?” His words drag against his teeth as he snarls the words out. He continues to circle, making you audibly gulp at the words that leave his mouth.
“Yes, sir,” you answer, your nails digging into the flesh of your aching skin.
“Have you touched yourself today?” he asks as he circles you again, peeling his hands over your arm as you shiver from his rough fingers.
“N-no,” you stutter out, falling over your words. Except you had. You did earlier in the shower, thinking of Joel’s hands, pretending his fingers were yours as you made yourself feel good, spilling yourself all over the tiled floor as you called his name. Joel, Joel.
“You filthy little liar. I know you did. I can smell your arousal all over your fingers.” He grabs your hand tight and pulls it up to his nose as he inhales deeply, his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent. When he opens his eyes up, he takes your fingers into his mouth and sucks slowly, watching you with cold, heavy eyes. Your eyes go wide as you watch him slurp your taste up. A wave of slick runs down the seam of your lacy underwear, and you have to squeeze your legs shut at the growing throb that’s now aching to be touched.
He releases your fingers slowly as you watch him pool his saliva all over you, watching it slide over your hand as he drops it back to your knees with a slapping sound that echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He makes a slow, steady circle around you as he halts right next to you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as he bends and places his hands on his knees, slowly curving his spine as he eyes you with a hard line strewn across his lips. You gulp and sit up straight. You’re in trouble, you know it too.
“I, I didn’t mean to…” you squeak out carefully.
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he growls. You automatically go quiet, afraid to interrupt him again. “The next time I find out you pleasured yourself without me, I’m gonna make you fuck yourself on my fingers while I watch, you got that?” he hisses.
Your mouth drops open at the mention of you fucking his fingers yourself, and you have to gulp down a moan at the thought of it. “Mhm,” you hum.
“Repeat it!” he yells, anger seething up in him.
“Yes, I understand,” you say with your eyes low, looking down at your shaking hands.
“Good.”
He skates around and stops in front of you, bending down as he places his rough hands on your knees. “Now, what are we gonna do with you, huh? You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks as he moves your hands away and places his own on the end of your sheer nightgown.
“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky as he inches your nightgown higher, grazing his calloused fingers over your thighs, feeling that low tingling sensation start in the back of your spine.
“Good. That’s good,” he groans as he pushes your nightgown up higher and higher, climbing up your thighs until no more material is touching your legs. The only thing left is your white lacy underwear that are ruined from how drenched you are.
“Now, tell me. What were ya thinkin’ about in the shower?” he asks as he slowly pushes your thighs apart, trailing his fingers up nice and slow as he teases you, getting you all worked up for him.
“You, I was thinking about you,” you gasp as he pushes your legs even further, causing more slick to build up from the action of his rugged hands.
“Were ya thinkin’ of these fingers curling up inside you as I make you cum? Or maybe my tongue swirling around that pretty pink clit of yours?” he purrs as he glides his fingers against the edges of your lace, almost touching you where you need him as he ghosts over your center.
“Y-yes, both. Please, Joel,” you beg as he teases you again, ghosting over you without so much as a light touch to your aching center.
“Please what?” he asks with his brown eyes growing darker, the edges of his pupils expanding into dark coal.
“Touch me, please,” you beg, licking your lower lip in anticipation. He sees you slide your tongue over your lip and you see his eyes grow sharper, arousal swirling all around his black pupils.
“Well, since you asked nicely.” He glides his fingers through your clothed folds, and you gasp at the feeling of your budding arousal. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” he groans as his chest rises and falls in waves, pulling his fingers away again as you huff in frustration.
He loves to tease you, loves to torture you as he builds you up and then makes you beg for it. He wants to hear it, wants you down on your knees as you plead and moan for him, calling his name as you beg again and again. Touch me, taste me, fuck me.
“Joelllll,” you beg again, dragging the last syllable out as you call his name, needing his fingers on you, needing his tongue, his cock, his everything.
“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he teases, trailing his fingers over your seams again as he slowly unhooks the material from your hips. He slides the wet material down your legs and disposes of them on the ground, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.
He pushes your thighs apart and smooths a thumb over your center as he slides it all the way up, collecting slick as he goes along. You shudder under him as you feel yourself drip on the wooden chair, so turned on that you feel like you could orgasm right at this moment. “Goddamn, you're drenched,” he groans as he takes his thumb in his mouth, sucking all the slick off as he stares into your eyes intensely. And fuck, it’s hot.
“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and show me exactly what you were doing in the shower. Go on,” he nods at you. “Show me how you touched yourself.” He stands back against the wall and leans on it, crossing his arms and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration, watching as his flexed muscles pull at his plaid shirt. “Any day now,” he says sternly. “Touch yourself. Now,” he growls. You automatically obey and nod up at him.
You gulp saliva down your throat and slowly bring your right hand over your center, gently pressing your fingers to your throbbing clit as you circle yourself, leaning back into the chair as a quiet moan escapes your mouth as you feel the pressure building fast. You’re so close, already so close.
“Eyes on me,” he commands as the low, guttural sound emits around the room.
You pull your head up and lock eyes with him as you focus on your breathy moans, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again. You hear the pulsing blood rush through your ears, feel your body tense as you close in on your orgasm. Almost there, almost.
“Place a finger inside you,” he commands, his voice vibrating through your bones. You obey and slide your middle finger inside as you feel the drenched, tight walls cave around your finger. “Another,” he demands as his eyes go pitch black watching you play with yourself. You slide a second one in and curl them up, hitting the spongy walls that threaten to make you cum.
You let out a loud, aching moan as you curl your fingers again and again while your thumb circles your clit in meticulous circles. Your mouth shapes into an O position as you feel your walls clench around you. You pull out a deep rising orgasm that starts low in your spine and spreads over your heated cunt as you climb higher and higher into bliss.
“Good girl,” he growls as he watches your orgasm wash over you. White, hot heat spreading through your entire body as you ride out your first orgasm, throwing your head back as your eyes roll back into your skull, feeling the wooden chair become soaked with your slick.
You take a moment to come back down to earth, back to where you can breathe again. Feeling your ragged breaths become even as you open your eyes and focus on Joel as he stands in the corner brooding and revelling in your pleasure. He’s breathing fast as his broad chest moves up and down, can practically hear him as his breaths come out choked and fast. He’s turned on, you can see the bulge in the outline of his dark jeans as he takes you in with his eyes, trailing over your center again.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks with a deep voice rasping in the back of his throat.
“Yes, so good,” you breath out tensely. “Want you to make me feel good though,” you beg as you open up your legs for him, feeling his eyes scrape over your soaked outline.
“Oh? Think you learned your lesson?” he asks curiously with a raised brow.
“Yes, promise,” you confirm, already biting your lip at the anticipation of his fingers on you.
“Mmm, alright. Since you did what I asked, I guess you earned a reward.” He stalks toward you, bending down before you as he gets on his knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders, slowly trailing his fingers up your inner thighs as he works you up again, getting you ready for your second orgasm.
“Look at this pretty pussy, all soppin’ and drippin’ for me. Want me to make you wetter? Want me to make you see stars?” he purrs as he blows on your center, making you buck your hips up at the breezy feeling as it tickles your most sensitive areas.
“Fuck, yes,” you squirm, begging for his touch.
“Mmm patience, little lamb. Gonna take ya nice and slow. You gonna be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?” he groans as a deep growl escapes his chest.
“Yes, fuck. I’ll be the best girl, your best girl,” you whine out.
“Mmm that’s what I like to hear,” he praises. Before you can respond, he licks a long, slow stripe up your center as you moan out his name.
“What’s that, little lamb? Couldn’t hear you over your moans,” he teases.
He pulls you lower in the chair as the wood scrapes along your back, feeling his rough hands wrap around your thighs tight. He inhales deeply and then spits on your cunt in a degrading, ravishing way. He takes his thumb and spreads the warm spit over your folds as you writhe under his touch.
“Hold still,” he warns as he presses his other hand on your thigh. You nod up at him and let him continue stroking his thumb up and down you, spreading your wet folds as he gently presses slow circles around your bundle of nerves. You let out a low, drawn out moan as he slips two fingers inside you and flicks his tongue back and forth in slow, lapping circles, so close to bringing you to the heavens again, so close to orgasm already.
One more thrust inside of you and then he’s pulling his fingers out, leaving your clit as he takes his mouth off you and backs up, dropping your legs from his shoulders as he stays straddling in between your legs. Why did he stop? Why did he fucking stop?
“Joel, I need to…I need to…” you whine out. He hushes you with the swipe of his finger to your lips, and you quietly pout as your eyebrows furrow together. Need to cum, need to cum.
“Think you deserve it?” he asks as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue, building you up even more as you beg to cum.
“Yes,” you cry out, your clit throbbing with need, your body sick with desperation to let go.
He chuckles a low laugh and smirks up at you, his dark eyes honing in as the black pits expand around him. He’s cruel, wicked, a devil in disguise as he torments you. He knows what he’s doing, he knows.
Filthy trickster, vicious teaser. Cruel, cruel, cruel, the voices whisper in your mind, filling you with regret and longing as you dig your nails into the wooden chair, feeling your body screaming at you. Let go, let go. Need to cum, need to cum. Joel sees the torment in your needing eyes, sees the way you’re scraping your nails into the wood as you beg him to release you with your watering eyes.
“You know, the female orgasm is a complex thing. I can feel you screaming inside to let go, can see the way you ache for release.” He grunts as he pushes a wet, hot finger inside your mouth, slowly pushing a second in as he slides his fingers further up, feeling your saliva cake around him.
“Suck,” he commands. You do as he says and suck his fingers, feeling your sweet arousal slide down the back of your throat. “Good girl,” he praises, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps his fingers inside your panting mouth.
“It’s just so hot to watch you suck my fingers with your dripping slick all over them,” he says as he bites his lip, sending his fingers further down your throat as you gag and choke on them, seeing his eyes become full black pits as he watches with pleasure. “Such a good girl, choking on my fingers. Wanna see you choke on something else,” he growls as his sharp incisors beam up at you in a smirk as he slowly releases his fingers from your mouth, pulling saliva with him.
You groan at the sight of his disheveled, tousled curls, at the grey patchy beard that encases his face, at the smoldering stare he’s giving you, at that devilish smirk that’s taunting and teasing you in the most torturous way.
“Your mouth. God, your mouth looks so inviting, and your teeth. They’d feel so good closed around my neck,” you whine as you beg him to finish you off, let you cum in peace.
“Mhmm. The better to eat you with, my dear,” he smirks. The little red riding hood quote takes you for a ride as you feel your cunt clench up around nothing, needing a release.
He smirks up at you once more and winks before he dives back into you, his fingers curling up inside as they jab up into your spongy spot, his mouth pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You feel the bubbling sensation, feel the waves crashing around you as they pull you under, drowning you in a wave of bliss and white heat as it explodes around you. You scream his name loud and desperate as you feel yourself let go. You clench around his fingers and then release, spilling your slick all over him. But what takes you by surprise is that’s not all.
You feel another orgasm take over as your body crumbles underneath him as he continues licking up your slick, working his fingers up and down you as he draws out more, spilling all of you, taking all of you for himself. Selfish, so selfish. But he builds you up so good that this is the best release you’ve ever experienced, like you’re walking on cloud nine as you feel a squirting sensation take over. Feeling yourself inject him with your slick as it sprays all over the front of his plaid shirt.
“Goddamn!” he yells as he pumps his fingers inside you, slowing his rhythm as he works it all out of you. You feel your legs shake and shutter around him as he holds your thighs open, not letting you close until he’s gotten every last drop out of you. After a few seconds of total bliss, you feel your body relax as there’s no more. That was the most intense orgasm of your life, and you wanted more. Needed him to continue to do that for however long this would go on.
“See what happens when I make you wait, when I tease you,” he smirks. “Makes you feel that much better,” he smiles, a devilish grin taking form on his face.
“You’re a menace, Joel Miller,” you respond out of breath, your eyes glazed over as you look over his aroused face.
“A menace, huh? Is that what I am?” he laughs.
“Yes,” you say carefully.
“Better watch your mouth,” he warns, slowly sliding his hands over your pale skin as he drags over your thighs, ending at your knees.
“What if I don’t?” you mock, wanting to test the waters, wanting to feed his anger. Keep quiet, keep quiet, the voices whisper. But you don’t listen. You never listen, always pushing them aside.
He stays quiet for a moment, but you see his features turning from day to night. He’s furious, his anger fuming inside him as you challenge him. Back down, back down, run, the ghosts scream. But you don’t. You stand your ground, let him rip into you as he takes control. You want him to, you need him to. He’s ruined you like the dead soil that lies in the snowed over dirt outside. He fucking ruined you.
You watch as his eyes turn frigid, his blood running cold as his eyebrows furrow up, his rage conforming to every bone in his hollow body. He’s on you in the next second, his hand wrapping around your throat as he squeezes just slightly, not enough to hurt you. He’s warning you, declaring his dominance over you. Telling you that he owns you, controls you.
He hovers in front of your face as his hot breath blows over you, smelling a hint of coffee and whiskey as it surrounds you like a cloud. You could get drunk off his scent, drunk off him. “Don’t you dare talk back to me, little lamb. You know what happens when you open that pretty fuckin’ mouth of yours.” He narrows his eyes as they stare into you like sharp daggers.
He squeezes your neck tighter and you try to open your mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s not to the point of pain. He never goes too far, only gets you close. It feels good, so good the way he’s squeezing, the veins in your neck begging him to put more pressure into it. You’re sick, infected with his poison with the way he mind fucks you into doing anything he says. You're a puppet, and he’s pulling all the strings.
Get out, get out, they scream. He comes to take, he comes to destroy, they warn. But you don’t care. Let him destroy. You want him to, need him to destroy your body. You let him take, let him consume you as he throws you to the wolves. Except he is the wolf, and he is the one that tears you apart piece by fucking piece. A lamb to a wolf’s slaughter.
He ghosts his lips against your ear, slowly biting down on your earlobe as he pulls down sharply. You wince and he lets go slowly. His rough tongue glides up your jawline as he squeezes lightly around your throat, building that sweet pool of arousal up again as he twists your emotions. You can barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. He’s been so rough with you, has done so many demoralizing things as he takes and takes from you, feeding his hatred and anger from the ghosts of his past. But he makes you feel so good, so fucking good. You can never deny him, can never run from him. You want it, you want it. So you’ll have it, you’ll have him.
“I could just eat you right up,” he purrs as he bites at your lower lip, pulling it back and releasing as it slaps back into place. You feel the sting of his teeth mark your throbbing lip, but it feels so good. So good.
“So do it. Take me,” you beg, choking out the words with his strong hand wrapped around you.
His eyes go black as he smirks up at you, his eyes smoldering into yours. “You asked for it, little lamb. Now c’mere.” He growls as he releases his death grip on your neck and yanks you out of the chair, slamming you into the white wall as he pins your arms above you and shoves the sheer nightgown up your body. He rips it over your head and tosses it to the floor in a heap.
You feel the cold air across your bare skin as his body crowds you, his lips sinking deep into your neck as he bites at the thin flesh. He pulls and tugs and sucks in a needy, aggressive way. You release breathy moans as the pain turns to pleasure, as you fall deep into the wolf’s trap as he claws at you. Taking, taking, taking. He’s rough, insensitive, always taking what he wants, what he craves. But you let him, you always let him.
He rolls your nipples with the pads of his rough thumbs, gathering your breasts as he kneads them together, making you pebble underneath him as he bites at them, leaving marks all over you. He claims, he takes with no regard for you. It’s what he needs, but you need it just as bad now. He’s brought you to ruin again and again, and he’ll continue to take advantage. You’ll let him, you’ll let him.
He glides his tongue back up to the crook of your neck and bites hard as you scream in both pleasure and pain. It’s too much, too much. But you take it, allowing him to have his way with you. He needs it, he needs it.
You feel the edge of his bulge against your leg as his hips dig into you, feel the shape as your body shakes around you. You want it, you need his cock. Your hands are still held against your will above you, so you lift your leg up slowly, skimming the base of him as you feel his large length through his denim. He grabs your leg fast and shoves it down as he grabs your chin and brings your eyes to his level.
“Did I say you could fucking touch me?” he snarls as his jagged teeth shine in the moonlight.
“No…” you whisper scarcely.
“No is right,” he snarls with bared teeth. “You do as I say when I say it. Got it?” he asks as he shoves you up against the wall, keeping his hand planted firmly against your jaw.
“Yes, sir,” you respond with a shaky breath.
“Good girl,” he smirks. “Now, let me teach you a little lesson on how to fucking do as you’re told,” he growls. “Stay,” he commands as he leaves you clinging to the thin wall. He saunters over to the wooden chair and takes a seat as he spreads his legs, palming himself slowly as one hand unlatches his leather belt and drops it to the floor with a clank.
“Get on all fours, now,” he commands as he swiftly unzips his jeans, slowly yanking them to the ground as he kicks off his leather boots and pushes the jeans to the floor, leaving him bare from the waist down. You gawk at the size of him, of that massive twitching erection as it plants firmly against his tight stomach, a bead of precum glistening on the swollen tip of him. He’s so fucking pretty sitting there, about to palm himself as he watches you. Something about that brings out the sultry, unruly side of you. You want to taste him, need to feel him inside you.
You’re on all fours, waiting for his commanding call as he allows you to come to him. You need to feel him, need to taste him, need to smell him as his hot arousal encases the air, taking over every logical sense of your brain as he calls to you in your mind. Come out, come out wherever you are, little lamb. Time to come play with the big, bad wolf.
“Crawl,” he growls from the middle of the room, glaring his dark black pits into your soul. You generously oblige as you scrape your nails over the wooden floor, feeling your knees drag behind you as you make your way to him slowly and steadily. You feel your eyes gloss over with pure lust as you stare up at him, watching him pump his hand up and down his large cock, spreading precum all over himself. You gulp at the sight, at the massive length he has on him.
God, he’s so big. So big that when he takes you, he stretches you to your limits. Splitting you in two as he drives into you over and over again. It’s never vanilla, it’s always rough. So very rough. But you like it. Like the way he feels inside you as he claims you, dominates you. You’re mine, all mine, he grits through his teeth as he takes you, digging his nails into your skin as he rips at you, shredding you to pieces.
Take me, take me, you beg through your mind. And you swear he hears you by the way he sits up straighter at full attention and smirks down at you with eyes full of pure lust. And he’s telling you now with his smirk, with his eyes. You’re mine, he growls. And you know it, you know it. His to take.
You grovel over to him, batting your long eyelashes up at him as if that’ll stir the desire in him. You bite your lower lip and flick your tongue across the edge seductively as you smolder for him. Take me, take me, you scream.
The anger builds in him as he snarls down at you and hisses as he continues to pump his large length. The thick veins cascade around his thick cock as shots of precum drip down around him, ending in his coarse, wiry hair. You want to taste him, need to taste him. You’ve never craved anyone like this in your entire life.
He wrapped his twisting vines around your wrists and pulled until he had a forceful hold on you. He dragged you through the pitch black forest and devoured your body, claiming you as his own in the first week he met you. And you were hooked ever since, never being able to say no to him. You could even hear the forest shrieking its warning calls. Run away, leave, get away from the wolf with dark eyes. But you didn’t listen, only hypnotized by the dark, dominant beast of the night.
When you finally reach him and work your way in between his legs, he grabs your jaw with his rough hand and forces you to open as he squeezes you tight. “Tongue out,” he presses and you fully oblige.
You stick your wet tongue out, and he brings the tip of his cock to you as you slowly lap at the end with your tongue. “Fuck,” he groans from deep in his chest as he stares down at you with a snarl. You slowly draw sensual circles with your tongue along his most sensitive spots and lap up precum into your mouth as you generously swallow the salty flavor of him. You smirk up at him as you lap at his tip, giving him your best smoldering eyes that you can.
You watch his eyes turn coal black as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls your eyes up to his. You wince at the pain simmering through your skull as he holds you tight, unable to move an inch from him. “Quit fuckin’ teasin’ me,” he growls as his piercing eyes sear through you like a knife. He pulls your hair tighter and you cry out in pain. “You gonna be a good girl and behave?” he asks with a twinge of anger in his deep voice.
“Mhm,” you nod as he stares his hard eyes into you.
“Better be.” He bares his teeth as he lets his grip drop from you, and you catch yourself on his knees. “Now be a good little lamb and show me how good your mouth fucks,” he growls as he sits back in the wooden chair and scoots his hips up, waiting to be pleasured by you.
You’re quick to appease him. You wrap a hand around his thick cock and slide your hand up and down, spreading precum all around his length, and then you take him in your mouth. You work him nice and slow as you bob up and down, up and down, gathering spit all over his cock. He moans a deep, sated sound out of his throat as he watches you with hollowed out black eyes.
You continue flicking your tongue and sucking his thick, substantial length as you work up and down to please him. You can tell he’s right on the edge of release by the way he’s clenching his jaw and breathing out ragged, concentrated moans. But he won’t end there, not tonight. He’ll push your boundaries, he always does.
As you pull back to his tip, he reaches down and grabs your hair hard and thrusts up into your mouth. He brings your head forward and forces you down as his large length hits the back of your throat, making your eyes start to water from the action. He doesn’t let up, he just keeps thrusting harder and faster as he mouth fucks you forcefully.
You choke and gag on him as he hits the back of your throat over and over again. Your mouth is a swimming pool of saliva as it drips down your chin, caking his cock with slick drool. You feel like you're drowning and can’t breathe underneath him, but he keeps going. He’s almost there, almost there. Need to breathe, need to breathe. Your eyes water as tears spill down your crimson cheeks and fall to the cold floor. He’s pushing you, always pushing you to your limits as he pushes past them. He loves when you choke on him, loves to hear the gargled, gagging sounds as your throat constricts around him. And when you look into his black eyes and see the way he bares his sharp teeth down at you, you know you made him feel good.
“You look so goddamn pretty choking on me, little lamb. Feels so fucking good when you deep throat me, when I fuck your mouth with my cock,” he moans as he pushes you deeper, nearly suffocating you under the weight of his massive cock that’s coated in drool. “Now you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow for me,” he commands as he thrusts inside you.
You can’t take much more. You’re out of breath and you’re digging into his thighs as you continue to take him, barely able to hold on anymore. You see him clench his jaw again, his breath speeding up as he groans curses out of his mouth. He’s there, he’s there. His dark eyes roll back as he holds your head in place and releases his load all through the back of your throat. You feel the white, hot liquid slide down your throat as you swallow the salty taste of him.
“Good girl. That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls as he finishes releasing himself in you. You watch his body go slack against the back of the chair as he breathes hot, whimpered moans from deep within his chest. He drops his hand from the back of your head, and you pull back, finally able to breathe again. You catch your breath and cough as you choke on more saliva and cum. You brace your hands on the cool floor and sink your nails into the wood, getting a grip on reality again as your body comes back to earth. Your voice is so shaky, so raspy as you wipe the drool from your chin and swipe the tears from your eyes.
He takes, he takes, the voices whisper. But you let him take, you let him ravage you as much as he wants. Don’t give in, don’t listen to the beast. But you do, you always do. The beast has claimed you as his, and little lambs always listen to their master.
The shrieking wind blows against your window, warning you of the beast that lies inside. Warning you that there’s danger near, and it’s lurking. That danger sits in your wooden chair, revitalizing himself before he crowds your body over the bed. He’s not done with you just yet. He needs to feed, needs to devour the entirety of you. He needs to destroy every last part of you as he claims you for himself over and over again.
He slowly pushes himself out of the wooden chair and grabs your arm, pulling you up from the cold floor as he grasps you tight. “On the bed,” he commands as he bares his teeth and pulls you over to the queen sized bed. He pushes you down as you fall on your back into the cool, satiny sheets.
He slowly unbuttons his plaid shirt as he stalks toward you with dark eyes that look like they want to devour you whole. When he gets to the last button, he pulls off the shirt and drops it to the floor, leaving him completely bare. He’s so goddamn handsome that it hurts to even stare for too long.
His broad shoulders and thick arms make it hard to breathe. His bulging veins that spider down his arms and cover his massive hands makes you want to whine in need. His tousled curls and brown flecked eyes make you want to come undone just from one look. They’re hypnotizing, spellbinding. And if you look close enough, you swear you can see the flash of yellow in his eyes as he stalks toward you, ready to pounce as he comes in for the kill.
Run, go now before it’s too late, the voices warn. The wolf comes to steal, the wolf comes to kill, they shriek. Let him, you whisper to the voices. You’re his to take. You want him to take. Take me, take me, you beg. And he will, he always does.
You feel the mattress shift underneath you as he drags his body over the edge of the bed, slowly crawling on top of you as his massive form hangs over you. His eyes are black pits as they stare at you, tempting you to come into the darkness as he drags you down again and again. Your eyes go wide and your pulse races in your neck as you stare up at the man made of nightmares.
“What’s the matter, little lamb? Scared of the big bad wolf?” he asks as he smirks down at you, his eyes pooled with darkness.
“No, I’m not scared,” you whisper out as you gulp down your fears.
“Then why can I smell the fear on you?” he smiles, his teeth like white, jagged razors.
“I’m not scared of you. No. I’m scared you’ll run off into the night and never come back.” Your voice comes out meek, breathy. Why the fuck did you just say that? His smile drops from his face and his eyebrows knit together. You can’t tell what he’s feeling, can’t tell what he’ll do. Don’t go, don’t go, you whisper. You need him. You need him.
His jaw flexes and relaxes as you see his waning features in the moonlight. He grazes his calloused fingers over your jaw slowly and comes to cup your chin as he pulls your eyes up to his. “You don’t have to worry about that, little lamb. Even if I run, I always come back. You’re mine and mine alone. Tell me who you belong to,” he growls possessively, making you desperate for his touch. You need him, you need him.
“You. I belong to you. I’m yours,” you gasp out, not able to hold on much longer. Touch me, taste me, devour me.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises.
Before you can comprehend what happens, he crashes his lips down to yours and devours you. Sucking, biting, kissing your throbbing lips as he shoves his tongue in your mouth and glides his rough tongue against yours. He swirls and swirls, filling up your senses with the taste of him. He tastes so fucking good, you could get lost in his whiskey taste, needing to drown in it until it fills up your lungs completely.
When he releases from your mouth, he cages his arms around your shoulders and crowds your body with his. “Little lamb, little lamb. What pretty eyes you have,” he purrs as he slowly pushes your legs apart with his knees, spreading you wide open for him to take. You bite your lip at the gentle praise and feel yourself become wet with arousal at the sight of him spreading you.
He lowers his head to your neck and licks a stripe up the side, right in the sensitive crevice of your neck. “And you taste so fucking good, I just love eating you up,” he groans as he bites down on your most sensitive nerve ending in your neck. You moan at the sharp, hot sensation as a wave of slick runs down your inner thigh.
He trails his hand slowly down your center, starting at your chin, gliding down your sternum, sliding over your abdomen, and ending at your wet, hot center. He spreads your soft folds and draws tight, slow circles around your clit as you hear the sloshing noises from your arousal.
“Joel,” you moan out, whining as it takes you under a sea of hypnotic pleasure. “Take me. Please, take me,” you beg.
“That’s right, little lamb. Good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been such a good girl for me tonight,” he praises through your thick cloud of pleasure. “Gonna fuck you now, little lamb. Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” he says with bared teeth.
“Please,” you beg as he takes his thumb off your clit and pulls you down further in the bed, angling your hips up as he wraps your legs tight around his back.
“You’re mine, little lamb. Mine,” he growls as he plunges his thick cock in you, spreading you wide and splitting you in two as you moan out in pleasure.
He keeps his strides steady and slow, quickly picking up the pace as he fucks up into you over and over again. Driving your moans out of you as he bottoms out inside you, pounding over and over again against your tight walls. He throws your legs over his shoulders and digs his nails into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, repeatedly hitting the soft, spongy area inside you over and over again. It’s too much, it’s too fucking much. You whine out as you moan his name over and over again. So good, it feels so good. You can feel the pressure building, feel your orgasm about to take form as your walls flutter against his cock.
“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, little lamb. Feels so fuckin’ good. Let go for me, want you to come for me. Tell me who fuckin’ makes you feel good. Tell me who you fuckin’ belong to,” he growls as he fucks inside you harder, pressing the pad of his calloused thumb against your throbbing bundle of nerves as he circles and circles, drawing that sweet orgasm out of you.
You feel the tingling sensation wash over your head, down your spine, and ending at your aching cunt as your toes curl around him. You keep your eyes trained on him as you’re barely able to keep them open. You feel your mouth drop open wide as you let out a loud moan that’s meant for Joel.
“You. I belong to you, Joel.” You scream out his name as your orgasm washes over you, feeling your walls clench up around him and then release white slick all over his cock as he continues to thrust up inside you, as he continues to circle your pulsing clit. White, hot heat spills through you as you completely lose yourself to him. Your body feels staticky as your mind goes fuzzy and your brain fogs over, only thinking of the man with dark eyes that takes you over completely.
“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he growls as he leans over your body and hovers over you, driving his thick cock in and out, in and out. Bottoming out so many times that you see stars. He’s there, he’s almost there, he’s about to cum. Four more thrusts and his body tenses up, his black pupils expanding as he throws his head back and clenches his jaw. He spills his seed inside of you as you feel the sticky cum coat your walls. He claims you, he claims you, and you love it, can never get enough. Mine, mine, mine, he growls possessively. And you’re his, you’re all his.
He slowly pulls out of you as you feel his seed drip down your inner thighs. “Did so good for me, little lamb. So good,” he praises as he cleans the mess from your thighs, wiping away the evidence that he had been there. He collapses next to you in bed and pulls you to him as he wraps his strong arms around you, crushing you to his chest. It feels good, this feels good.
He always leaves right after he finishes, never stays to comfort or hold you. He’s selfish, mean, but tonight he holds you. He holds you. He stays. You don’t say anything about it, don’t ask him why he stays because he’ll just get up and leave, leaving you empty and alone.
You feel the heavy weight he holds close to him, feel the heartbreak he carries with him day after day, can feel the cold glass of the broken watch grazing against your back. But you don’t ask, don’t chance it. You feel the loss cover him, feel his anger seething somewhere underneath his calm demeanor. It’s there just waiting to pounce, waiting to lash out at whatever stands in front of him.
He’s the wolf that stalks Jackson, the wolf that terrorizes the forest, the wolf that haunts the whispering ghosts that lie buried in the cold, dead ground. He goes around destroying, rampaging, slaughtering in the thick of the night. He’s a menace that looks for anything he can sink his teeth into and bleed dry. He’s a looming threat over every area he enters, threatening to destroy and kill. He takes, he takes. Again and again. But that’s what wolves do. They hunt and they take and they dominate while their prey cower before them, just waiting for the kill.
Joel is a wolf. A reckless, vengeful, powerful wolf. He loves to devour, loves to control, loves to dominate you. But he also gives, never letting you go starving for his touch. He always comes at the dead of night, always pulls you from your deep sleep to tumble around with the wolf in the sheets.
He’s like a melodic, captivating melody that hypnotizes you, calling you into the forest night after night with his deep howl. You always go, never ignoring the call that’s meant for you and you alone. And when you go, the ghosts reach for you from under the dirt and try to pull you away, warning you of what you’re about to face. But you ignore them, stepping over their graves as if they were never there. You go, you always go. Never betraying the lonely wolf with the sad, dark eyes.
It’s now while he holds you tight in his arms that you realize maybe you were meant to find him. He’s broken, a lone wolf that walks the hollow streets of Jackson just trying to find a purpose to keep going, to keep fighting. And when you showed up a few months ago, it's like a little light turned on inside him when it was all around black before you came.
You see him now for what he really is. He’s not all bad, not all teeth and claws. He yearns to break free from his wolf form, begging to run free with the rest of the pack instead of being cast out like he is. You see it in his wrinkled forehead, in his jaw that repeatedly clenches and relaxes, in his dark brown eyes that hollow out when you stare into them.
He’s so close, so close that you smell his mahogany forest scent that clings to him as it pulls you in, intoxicating you into a relaxed state. He stares at you with those dark eyes, his chest breathing in and out in shallow waves. You try something new, feeling brave all of a sudden. You slowly reach out your hand and brush it through his tousled curls, gently moving away a dark piece that falls against the side of his face. He doesn’t move, doesn’t lash out at you like a wild animal. He stays calm, just staring at you with a soft expression. His eyes change to a chocolate brown instead of the deep black pits he usually has. And then he surprises you by reaching his hand up slowly to your face, hesitating at the gentleness of himself. He trails his calloused fingers over your cheek, as light as a feather as he takes in your tranquil features.
He changes, he changes, the voices call. No more teeth, no more slaughter, they chant louder. A quiet victory to the ghosts that haunt the forest.
And just like that, you have tamed the wolf, controlling all his pent up rage, giving him the restitution he needed all along. You can see it in his big brown eyes, how he looks at you as if you saw him for the first time when no one else did. When no one else could give him what he needed. He needed someone that could understand all the hurt and loss he had been through. You’ve lost, you’ve died a thousand times through grief, but you found your way again through him. The hungry wolf that you were searching for all along.
And so the lost, scared lamb found herself in the face of the big, bad wolf. He came to destroy, to take, and to use. But you found a way to tame the claws, to tame the gnashing teeth. Somehow you controlled the beast, showing him that he truly wasn’t alone. Never leave, never leave, you call to him in your mind. And it’s like he can hear your thoughts because he drags his thumb lightly down your jawline and responds.
“I’ll stay, little lamb. I’ll stay,” he whispers. And he does, he does.
Maybe not all wolves are out to steal, kill, and destroy. Maybe there are wolves that are just lonely, broken, needing to know that someone understands them. Needing to know that they’re truly not alone. Joel is that wolf. He just needed to find you. He needed to find the lamb that wouldn’t run and cower in his presence. He needed a lamb that would stay by his side, that would show him the way out of the dark and into the light. He needed restitution. He needed you. He needed you.
And so he stays, he stays. The lonely, bleeding, broken wolf finding resolve and contentment with the quiet, gentle lamb. He stays.
Tags: @janaispunk @amyispxnk @iamasaddie @ashleymsnodgrass @tuquoquebrute @whxtedreams @fanfictilltheend @burntheedges @cinnamongorll @studioghibelli @pedrostories @blueseastorm @trea-bae
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myketheartista · 3 days
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"Maybe being needed for something so innocent as comfort could be nice."
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My good, good friend @tunastime wrote a red vs blue fic that was only fuel to the fire that sent me down my rabbit hole again, so I wanted to doodle something from it to show my appreciation <3 (and eternal excitement. I cannot emphasize how wonderful their writing is and how excited I am that they get to write the favoritest guys!!!)
please go read Restful Dreaming, Mr. Freelancer!! even the dang title gets me...
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gammija · 1 year
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ok since the Magnus Protocol is confirmed AU from tma, and jonny and alex have purposely not said that their voices are not reappearing in TMAGP, consider:
evil AU jon and martin. mostly because I just know jonny and alex would have such a good time acting that out. And also because i want to see a completely unhinged jon and a web!martin used to their full potential damnit
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padfootastic · 6 months
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if you’re writing james & sirius in a way that atleast one person doesn’t ask ‘are those two dating’ then sorry but that’s actually two random OCs with familiar names
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ragingtwilight · 8 months
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one of my favourite headcannons is that narinder fucking sucks at being mortal
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rainbowchaox · 7 months
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Pissa Headcanons That Are Canon To Me Masterpost:
1.) Philza has been courting Missa from the first day they got paired together. Because Missa is literally so attractive to a Avian being able to dance, sing, and just in general a kind person. So of course Phil has been courting Missa but Missa doesn’t realize avians aren’t all super affectionate and doesn’t realize the gifts and shinny things given to him by Philza is pretty much avian for OMG I LOVE HIM and BACK OFF. Missa doesn’t know because Missa in general hasn’t been taught avian courting behavior along with his horrid self esteem he can’t imagine Phil loving him like that.
2) Philza is super affectionate even for avian standards. He will cuddle Missa with his wings every chance he gets. Or just in general hover around him. Along with his courting behavior almost being sickening cute. He just thinks his husband deserves everything nice.
3) Philza is more independent when it comes to preening his wings and is used to doing it alone but BOY is his weak when Missa takes a hour out of his day to help him preen. Missa isn’t like the best at preening in the world. But Missa is over average solely because he wanted to be the best for Philza he could be. It never fails to get Philza to melt and finally relax.
4) Both Philza and Missa are married and pining. Missa has a crush on his husband. Therefore Missa always gets a tad flustered around Philza. And everyone can see they love each other but themselves.
5) Avians run warm and Reapers run cold. So Missa always cuddles with his husband sleeping aka his willing heat source. Missa loves being blanketed by Phil’s wings. It’s so cozy and warm.
6) Missa is more open with his jealousy but in my opinion the more jealous one is actually Phil. Missa is very pretty ESPECIALLY if one managed to see him without his mask. But Missa doesn’t realize others are hitting on him because brain is too full of his husband. Philza does realize. And I won’t lie he sulks sometimes.
7) Missa has strong opinions about wings. And he definitely has a strong bias towards his husband wings. Missa being Missa will casually say how pretty his husband wings are. When doing that I imagine Atleast in avian eyes is like calling someone hot or a hunk. Because avians are so vain about their wings and is one of the main beauty standards. Philza always hears and never fails to give a smug smirk. Philza loves being complimented despite him saying otherwise.
8) Missa was the cook in the family and taught chayanne. Philza can cook but not COOK. Everyone in the family cried a bit when Missa came home solely for his cooking.
9) Phil is gentle with his adoration so he has many pictures and charcoal drawings of Missa hidden in one of his back packs.
10) Missa teaches Phil to dance. Phil teaches Missa to fight. Equal amount of gentle touching and flirting somehow.
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taxi-boi · 2 years
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i see alot of "tango joins empires smp" aus where he joins tumble town as a bandit or another cowboy or ""rancher"" but you are ALL wrong. you all missing out okay.
tango's ALREADY been to space. hes a spaceman. hes already got the minecraft skin
tangotek crashlands into empires. the buzz lightyear to jimmys woody.
im right and i better see all of you making it happen hold on i need to draw this
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do you see it? do you see my vision?
bonus family photo
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zer0point5ive · 9 months
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i just know adam (saw 2004)’s myspace was crazy
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slytherinshua · 9 months
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100 KISSES
genre. fluff. sickfic. warnings. description of illness and medicine. written on a plane and not proofread. pairing. j-us x fem!reader. wc. 735. a/n. aaaaaa guys im writing for onf 😭 IM SO EXCITED YDEK LIKE???? my lovely lovely boys 🫶 ik it won't get much attention but im so over the moon about this!! also this was a request from my best best friend @ddeonudepressions 🧡🧡 dia i know it took a rly long time but i didn't forget about sick juice u wanted 🫶 i hope you like it ☝️
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“Y/n…”
“What?” You sighed, probably for the thousandth time, glancing up from your phone to pay attention to your sick boyfriend. Headache, sore throat, coughing, sneezing, runny nose, ringing ears, or neck pain, you name it, Seungjun was suffering from it.
You had to admit he did look pretty cute with his bright red nose and puffy face, but if you said anything he would get 10 times whinier than he already was.
He currently couldn’t decide whether he wanted to cuddle or wanted to keep his distance to not get you sick. You tried to tell him that you had a good immune system, but he just wouldn’t buy it. You tried to tell him that you were probably already infected from taking care of him for the past 2 days, but he wouldn’t take that answer either.
“I miss kissing you.” He mumbled along with an over-dramatic sniff.
You smiled a little, “You really won’t take the risk, huh?”
He shook his head vehemently, frowning, “You’ll get sick too.”
“What if I wanted kisses too?”
Seungjun paused, contemplating the question before shaking his head again, “Even if we both want kisses, we shouldn’t.”
“Is your throat still sore?”
“Mhm, it feels so… dry.” He coughed.
“I told you to use the throat spray I bought. It’s foul, but I promise it works.” You urged.
“It’s really nasty, though.” He shuddered.
“You might be able to get kisses if you use it.” You coaxed.
Seungjun bit his lip, head falling back onto the couch. You giggled at his antics. He was dramatic even when he was healthy, but no one could ever beat the melodrama that came with a sick Seungjun. He didn’t say anything for about 10 minutes, and you thought he had fallen asleep.
“Get me the throat spray.” He mumbled just above a whisper.
“Knew it would work.” You giggled.
//
“You feeling any better?” It was hours later, and you were just slipping under the covers after brushing your teeth, joining Seungjun who was hugging a pillow.
“A bit?”
“Still probably not enough for my goodnight kiss, then?” You pouted. You had already gone 2 days without one and a part of you was really hoping to sneak just one peck in before bed.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Seungjun whispered and held out his arms. “All I can offer is hugs right now.”
“You owe me at least 10 kisses once you’re better, got it?” You said seriously, settling so your head rested on his chest and he could wrap his arms around you.
“I’ll give you 20 kisses once I’m better if you want.”
“30.”
“50?”
“100.” You giggled.
Seungjun tried to stop himself from laughing since it usually ended in a coughing fit, but he ultimately failed.
“You sound ugly when you cough.” You joked.
“Can’t really help it.”
“I miss you singing me to sleep.” You sighed, tracing little shapes on his shirt with your finger.
“I miss it too, but my throat is really out of commission.” 
“I know…”
“I thought I was whiny, but you know, you’re pretty whiny too.” Seungjun smiled.
“Maybe if my boyfriend wasn’t sick for so long, I wouldn’t be so whiny.” You countered.
“So it’s my fault, huh?” 
You nodded.
“I like it when you’re whiny, though. It’s cute.”
“Shut up.”
“You think I’m annoying when I’m whiny, though, don’t you?” He didn’t say it in his usual teasing tone where you knew he was joking. He rubbed your arm as he spoke, his breath coming out a soft tone that you rarely got from him.
“Do you want an honest answer?”
“Hm?”
“Usually I would just say ‘of course, you’re the most annoying person I know’, but I feel like I shouldn’t tease you while you’re sick.”
“How thoughtful of you.” Seungjun mumbled, voice coming out softer and softer as he teetered on the edge of drifting off into a slumber.
“I don’t mind when you’re whiny. It kinda reminds me how much you love me, and that you would even want to put in that much effort just for my attention… So, I guess I like it too.” You glanced up only to find Seungjun already asleep, softly breathing while still holding you close to his chest.
“Why’d I even say all of that if you were just going to fall asleep on me?” You muttered. “…Sleep well, baby.”
↳ onf taglist: open!!
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onceuponapuffin · 13 days
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Fanatic Intervention Part 3!!
Okay, this thing needs a name. Please suggest ideas in the comments :) I know this part is tedious, but the thing with self-insert is you have Establishing to do before any Real Action happens. We'll get there, just hang on.
//Edited to include title.
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The shaking must have been more visible than you thought, because Muriel is at your side before you can speak. They touch your shoulder gently.
“Um, excuse me,” they say, “Sorry, but you’re shaking an awful lot. Maybe you should sit down.” You nod, and it takes concentration, but with Muriel’s help you make it to the sofa. Apparently caffeine and adrenaline aren’t the best mix. Your breathing speeds up, despite your best efforts, and the rest of the room feels fuzzy. Shit, you do not need this right now. There’s talking and movement, but listening to the words feels too sharp, and the best you can do to convey that you are not okay is to shake your head over and over and over. You reach out a hand next to you, and are surprised to find the sleeve of Aziraphale’s shirt. It’s not ideal, but it’s something, and he doesn’t pull away. You focus on the feel of the cotton, the button on the cuff, the pattern of the stitching in the seams. Slowly, you’re able to tune back in. You focus on your breathing, you look around and count five things that start with B – button, books, brown, bow tie, black. Crowley hands you a mug of cocoa, and you accept it, running your thumb along the porcelain wings and letting your hands feel the heat of the drink. You take a sip and take stock.
Multiverse travel (?), mouthing off to the literal Voice of God (lol), brush with death (or...eternal saltiness?), confronting your very limited mortality (at least it’s 5 lives and not 3), panic attack. WELP. This is going well so far. Just peachy. You take another sip, and notice that everyone’s waiting. Oh, right. You clear your throat.
“Thanks,” You say, “Sorry about that. Um...I’m gonna guess that you all have some questions.”
“That would be accurate, yes,” Aziraphale says next to you. Now that you are better, he stands, straightens his waistcoat, and moves to stand nearer the chair (and Crowley), and watches you with his hands folded in front of him. “The first of which is, who exactly are you?”
“Buckle in, folks,” You say to them, “You’re in for a ride.”
And so you begin your info dump. You notice Muriel taking dedicated notes. Good, they’ll probably need those later. You tell them that you’re not sure exactly where you’re from, but it’s not here. You explain the tv show, the radio show, you even mention the musical, and of course, when you get to the book, you ask Crowley to find it on the shelf behind him. It’s right where you remember Jim leaving it. Crowley opens it, and you begin on instinct:
“’It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather seven of them thus far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet.’ Now skip a couple lines Crowley. ‘I said that one went down like a lead balloon.’ Sound familiar? There’s more.” You stop quoting there, because Crowley has started flipping through the pages quicker. Aziraphale holds out his hand, and after a while, Crowley hands it to him, then goes to a corner where you notice him taking a few deep breaths. You lean to the side to see that he’s not smoking, exactly, but definitely smoldering. You look at Aziraphale next, and see him turn white as a sheet, before handing the book to Muriel’s eager hands. The scrivener is the only one who looks delighted as they flip through. Aziraphale cleares this throat and composes himself.
“Uhm...now I believe you told Metatron that...The Almighty sent you here. Is...is that actually the case?”
“Honestly,” You say, “I have no idea. I just needed to get him out of your shop and away from you.”
“Away from...me?”
“Yeah...um...” You notice that Crowley has come back to the conversation now, although his sunglasses are slightly askew. You glance at Muriel, who has noticed the shift in your tone, has closed the book, and is now watching you. They put the novel on the nearest surface and reach for their notebook again.
And so, you explain the most solid fan theories that you know. That their joint miracle from the other day made them a threat for Apocalypse 2.0, and that Metatron was here to separate them, by offering Aziraphale the job of Supreme Archangel. This news is met with...surprise.
“Well that’s just stupid,” Crowley says, “He says no, in your tv show, clearly.”
“Yes, I rather can’t imagine I’d be so keen to return to Heaven after everything.”
“Weeeeelllll…...”
The room goes silent, except for Muriel’s writing. They stop after a moment, unaware of the silence.
“So then, you were trying to keep them from being separated because the power of an angel and a demon is most powerful together.”
“Yeah, or the power of love maybe. I’m not sure. Neil’s been kind of vague on that point.” You intentionally keep your gaze on Muriel once you realize what you implied. You will get there. Making those two talk about their feelings is on your list. Patience, patience.
“Oh, the author – Neil Gaiman?” Muriel points at the book with their pencil.
“Yeah, him. He answers questions sometimes.”
Muriel makes a note. You realize something.
“Wait a minute, Muriel,” You say, “Are you...on board with this?”
Muriel stops writing and considers your question for a minute.
“Well, see, the thing is,” They begin, “I’ve seen an awful lot that I never thought I would see? Just in the last week. Like a demon being nice –“
“HEY! Not nice!”
“And the Archangel Gabriel being in love with a demon and running away with them. And then you fell out of nowhere, and honestly what you said to the Metatron may have been a lie, and therefore, you know, bad, but it makes sense. If God didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. So if I help you, I’m helping the Will of God, right?”
Crowley is the one to break the silence that follows.
“Honestly I would have thought it’d take longer for you to take after me. I have to say, I am impressed.”
“Take what after you?”
“Nevermind.”
“Well,” says Aziraphale, “Is there anything else that we need to know about?”
You think about the kiss. You think about everything that came after. You think about ‘and I would like to spend -’ But no, none of that is relevant now. Why do you feel like you’re forgetting something?
The bell at the door rings. You turn around to see Maggie and Nina. UGH. Right.
“I’ve got it, ladies, no worries! Come back later!” You call, desperately.
“Excuse me! No, we need to speak to these two now if you don’t mind!” Maggie says. Clearly she doesn’t care who you are or what you’re doing here.
You roll your eyes. Honestly, you don’t have beef with Maggie and Nina. You agree with them telling off Crowley and Aziraphale, it’s just that you can’t help but feel that the clock is ticking. But, well, there’s no helping it is there? With a sigh, you stand.
“Come on, Muriel,” You say, “Let’s go to the kitchen and get some more cocoa while these four talk.”
Muriel follows you into the kitchen. You don’t listen, you don’t need to. All you need to do is refill your drink while Maggie and Nina tell them off. While you’re at it, you try to convince Muriel to have one. Despite your best effort, you’re unsuccessful. Oh well, all in good time. When you hear the bell chime again, you go back into the shop to find Aziraphale and Crowley looking very pink in the cheeks. You can’t help but smirk.
“All right, chaps?” You say in your best-terrible-British-accent. Aziraphale nods. Well good. Because you all have work to do.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
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s-ccaam-era-crepe · 2 years
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hate being a dndads fic writer because I’ve got wips like “Glenn close goes to Morgan freeman’s grave” or “aromantic Yeet Bigly” or “Taylor Swift infodumps about anime for 3 hours” what is this podcast
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lunearobservatory · 10 months
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devastating. how will they ever recover.
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ikarakie · 9 months
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the online paper of a history or english student analysing the anonymous writings of a queer man in the 1600s: Religion was incredibly important during this period of time. Blasphemy was punishable least severely by fine, and most by death. So, for this writer— whoever he may be— to compare the object of his affections to a religious figure such as an angel is incredibly significant. It’s a metaphor for how highly he holds them in his life, as he proclaims him to be “as divine as an angel should be”—
crowley, the author of the referenced text, was in fact using the angel descriptor incredibly literally: what the fuck
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