#no strong warnings apply
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Original Short Story: The Prophet P.1
This is a project that I have started with my partner, @redmonarch217. It's the first short story of many, many more to come. This is only the first half of a surprisingly long short story, the rest of it will be posted on my Patreon when it is finished!
Word Count: 9,482
Warnings: Body Horror, Drama, Suspense, Post Apocalyptic
Children shouldn't concern themselves with adult affairs. They might find themselves in the midst of things they do not understand and growing up far, far too fast...
● I ●
Five children strained their ears and their eyes as they tried to catch glimpses of the group of strangers that had gathered in the old, worn-down barn that resided on the edge of the Stillwater’s property. Trevor had eagerly told his friends earlier that day that the men would be meeting for the next several days after dark, something that was typical of them and something they did for the two weeks out of every month that they visited the children’s small hometown up in the mountains. The men provided the town with needed services that only they could provide, though they usually did so quietly. Not in secrecy but in silence, which was the typical motto of the alchemists.
“Psst! Move over! I can’t see what’s happening!” Amber was elbowed in the ribs by another girl, Ember. It was a coincidence that their names were so similar and one of the reasons why they ended up bonding, though the similarities between the girls mostly ended there. In spite of their differences, they were still friends, though Amber didn’t know why Ember thought that her view was any better.
“Shh! They’re gonna hear us!” Trevor shushed them both as he stood on the tips of his toes. Amber didn’t know why he was struggling so much to see the men, given that the moldy pile of hay that was obscuring most of your vision was almost completely to Trevor’s right. The only time she could see the alchemists were when one of them stepped to her left, and the men seemed to be walking around rather aimlessly as they spoke to one another.
“-seen the- the mountain? Why aren’t they traveling up? What’s stopping them?”
“-it as though they fear it. Perhaps it is as the anomaly has postured: these things aren’t of our world. How else could what Bourgh had describe possibly exist?”
The alchemists’ words were difficult to make out and even more difficult to understand. What was at the bottom of the mountains? It was as exciting as it was terrifying. These men were strange but they were well intentioned, even the children knew this to be true. Every alchemist that ever came to their small town has only helped, even when the other adults didn’t have much to offer as payment. ‘A dry place to sleep and some food is more than enough payment’ is what they would usually say. The children found it uncomfortable whenever an alchemist stayed in their home but truth be told: they rarely notice any of their presences, even when they are made known.
“We don’t know if what he saw was even real. For all we know it could be some new flora or fauna that merely distorts the senses and that-”
“I am standing right here! Stop speaking as though I’m some unaware mimic!” An angry alchemist walks to the left of Amber’s vision. His long jacket swishes and slightly tips the pile of molded hay over, giving all the children a much, much better view of the seven men that either stood around motionless or leaned against nearby walls or structural supports.
“But… you can’t disagree with the fact that what you described was-”
“I know what I saw! It was-!” Several of the men started to talk over one another. What were they referring to? It made the children anxious. Amber began to worry her lower lip, one of her many bad habits. She picked at one of the rotted boards, barely noticing how a large splinter was broken off by her fingers clumsily picking at the slivers of wet wood next to her face.
Amber leaned in more, straining her ears and her eyes against the small opening she could peer through. Ember and Trevor were crowding her body, pushing her flush against the side of the barn to the point that the boards creaked and groaned underneath their combined weight.
“S-Stop! Seriously!” Amber’s voice came out far louder than she intended. It was an audible squeak that had the alchemists shushing each other and one sternly calling out in their direction.
“Hey! Do you have any idea of the time?! We wouldn’t want to get the Stillwaters involved, would we, Trevor?!”
The children scattered upon hearing that booming voice. There was anger but unbeknownst to them, the alchemist was more annoyed than angered. This wouldn’t be the first time that they had uninvited guests listening in on their conversations, though children aren’t as bad as other things in the world. The men scoff as one child lingers, far longer than he had any right to. As he was about to turn away from the barn, something in the shadows caught his eye. For a moment, it looked as though there was a single piercing, glowing eye staring at him, the dim light from within the building reflecting off of it intensely. The boy blinked but the light in the darkness was gone, and he was running after his friends as one of the alchemists loudly cleared his throat.
● II ●
Amber was relieved that the alchemist that stayed in her home didn’t reveal her late night adventures to her parents. She was on her best behavior in the days following that night. All of her friends were, too. It still didn’t dissuade their interests in the enigmatic strangers and it only led them to plot yet another eavesdropping session for the next night the men met with one another on Trevor’s property once again.
“What do you think they were talking about?”
“Who?”
“The alchemists! They say there was something… where was it? At the-?”
“Foot of the mountains?”
“Yeah! There! What do you think it is?”
Jamie shrugged at Nicolas’s questioning. It could be anything… or nothing at all. His father didn’t put much trust in the alchemists and that distrust rubbed off on him. Nick was always one that wondered what was happening outside of their small town while the other children, and even most adults, didn’t pay it much mind. Or they tried to, at least.
“That guy sounded freaked out…” Nicolas continued. Amber listened to him, taking a peek at him from behind her bangs but rolled her eyes and looked away when she thought he caught her eye.
“Who cares what it was. It’s not coming up here, right?” There was a brief pause and a moment of disquiet spread amongst them.
“W-Wha-? C’mon! It’s not coming up here! Whatever it is, that one guy said it can’t come up the mountain!” Trevor made a face.
“Yeah…? I guess so… It freaked the alchemists out so it’s kind of scary…” Ember snorted at Trevor.
“What? You scared?” Amber and Jamie snickered as Trevor bristled.
“H-Huh?! No! As if! I bet those alchemist guys would get all worked up over krill!” The children giggle as they imagine those stuffy, matter-of-fact alchemists examining a krill’s nest from afar, poking at it with a stick and running away when the annoyed crustacean-like oddities come flying in every which direction. Something similar has happened already, at least to a degree when an alchemist warned them away from a ground-dwelling krill that they had never seen before. He was so on edge that the children all thought he would begin to yell at them. They couldn’t understand why, though, as krill weren’t ever known to be dangerous, at least none that they all knew of.
“Yeah, I guess you have a point there. But still…” Trevor was still unconvinced.
He nervously picked at his fingernails and fidgeted in place, much like the girls did as they began to genuinely wonder about what could scare an adult so badly. Ember was nervous, too, as she began to chew at her lower lip while deep in thought. Nicolas’s brows were furrowed and he frowned deeply. Amber noticed this shift almost instantly, finding herself wondering aloud what was wrong before she could stop herself.
“Nick? You okay?” He looked over to her, brows still furrowed as he shrugged.
“Y-Yeah? Yeah, I guess… It’s just-” He tapped his foot on the ground, disturbing some of the fine dirt that covered the concrete floor underneath. The sound of crunching and scraping reverberated off the bare walls of his parents’ garage. Nicolas was struggling to find the courage to continue, repeatedly opening and shutting his mouth until Jamie shoved his shoulder and scoffed.
“Out with it! What?!” Nicolas made a face but swallowed thickly and swatted him away as he began to explain himself.
“Alright-! Jeez-! So… you know how I was the last one to leave the other night?” The others nod and mutter affirmatives.
“Yeah?” Amber put her book down and was eagerly attentive, more so than the others were.
“Well… I think that… there was something else in the barn with the alchemists.”
The children looked at Nicolas with a mix of confusion and amusement. Ember and Jamie both snickered a little, while Trevor looked a little nervous, given that the barn was visible from his room, and Amber was more confused than anything else.
“Um… what do you mean ‘there was something else’ there? Like… another person? Or… an animal?” Amber tried to offer some reasonable explanations. It wouldn’t be impossible for either to be the case… Though why would there be a non-alchemist there or even an animal, as none resided in the barn as far as she was aware, would be present. She hasn’t ever seen alchemists with animals… not that they have never been around or even brought some to their town, that is. It’s happened at least a few times… or at least that’s what Amber thought. Nicolas slowly shook his head and his frown deepened slightly.
“I… maybe it was an animal? It just… It didn’t seem like one. I-I don’t know…” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and Trevor swallowed thickly.
“W-What-? Like- Did it growl at you or something?!” Trevor was sweating a little. Jamie was too, even though he did live nearly as close to that barn as Trevor did.
“I-I don’t know if I like the idea of some kind of alchemist experiment being in town! What if it’s crazy?! Or if it’s some kind of monster that’s gonna eat us all?!” Trevor looked horrified at the prospect. Ember laughed nervously and so did Amber, even though she didn’t think it was funny in the slightest.
“What?! No! C’mon, why would the alchemists bring something dangerous into town? Right, Nick? It’s… It was just a normal animal, right? …Nick?” His jaw was set and a strange look was on his face. None of the other children could accurately place what emotion he was feeling, as it was completely foreign to them all. His eyes were wide and his lips were drawn into a thin line. His face was a little pale, almost green as a noticeable sheen of sweat began to collect on his browline.
“It… was looking at me.” For a moment, it was as though Nicolas was in another world. He didn’t look at any of them, he wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, either, with his eye unfocused and his foot tapping in a nervous beat.
“...It was kind of big. Really big. I couldn’t see it, it was in the back most part of the barn and it was really dark, but…” Trevor cut Nicolas off.
“Wait, wait w-wait-! How big was it?! What was it!? Nick?!” He could only shrug, looking as sick as Trevor did.
“I-I don’t know! It was dark! I-I just saw the light being reflected off its eye!” Ember made a face.
“‘Eye’? Like… one? How big are we talking?” Amber looked between her and Nicolas, who seemed momentarily lost in thought, raising his hands as he tried to guess the size as he gestured.
“Like… this.” Nicolas brought his hands together, cupping them together in a size that was far too large for the biggest of creatures that any of the children had either seen or even heard of, nearly double that of a normal human eye, maybe even larger. It was difficult to tell, as Nicolas wasn’t very confident in relaying that size to his friends and seemed to second guess himself.
“Wha-? No- What? Are you being serious? Are you messing with us, Nick?” Ember is incredulous, scoffing again as she turns to her other friends. Her confidence waned as she saw how uncomfortable they all looked, Trevor and Jamie especially. Nicolas slowly shook his head, still not quite catching her gaze as she addressed him.
“Nick?” He scratched the back of his head and looked over at Amber. He gave her a halfhearted smile.
“Yeah? I- uh- I don’t know what I saw… Maybe it wasn’t even an animal… I don’t really get those alchemist guys…” He chuckled but it was sort of empty, like he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. A few of the others laughed too, everyone except for Trevor.
“I… Are you sure? Because… I don’t want some freaky monster living in our barn!” He was on edge and began to chew at his fingernails. Amber reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Hey- It’s probably okay, Trevor-”
“Y-Yeah?! Well… what if it’s not?! What if those alchemists brought something dangerous into town without telling anyone?!” Trevor was nearly hyperventilating. His voice was trembling and his entire body was shaking with enough intensity to make his teeth rattle. Nick’s frown went from distant to much more present and deep. He walked over to Trevor and put his hand on his other shoulder.
“I-I really could have been mistaken! It was dark! I was spooked by that board breaking! And they yelled at me after you guys ran off, so- so maybe that made my mind play tricks on me.” Nicolas laughed nervously. His write off of his entire story didn’t help put Trevor at ease.
“I-I… think I’m going to tell my parents.” Everyone bristled upon hearing this.
“Uh- We’re all going to get into trouble for being out so late!”
“And for eavesdropping!”
“Trevor-! Just chill out, dude! It’s probably fine!” Trevor shook his head, looking genuinely spooked. Everyone was looking at Nicolas, including Amber, who pleaded at him with her large eyes.
“I-I- Oh! H-How’s about we go check it out later tonight?! You’ll see there’s no monster and-”
“What?! No! I-I’m not going out there! W-What if-?!” Trevor was stuttering and unable to speak properly. Jamie and Ember shared a glance, both making the same face. Nicolas was looking in between them all, his shoulders sagging as he realized that he’s likely the only one that will be offering himself up for this late night mission of his. Well… it was his idea… He thought that was fair, but he didn’t notice that Amber was fidgeting in place before she blurted out-
“I’ll go, then!” Amber raised her hand before the question really had a chance to drop. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked around, realizing that no one else was willing to come along. Nicolas looked surprised that she offered to come with him, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape. He quickly closed it and tried to shrug it off but Amber had already noticed it and he nodded to her.
“I mean… only if you want to…” He mumbled it under his breath. It wasn’t like the two of them hadn’t done things like this in the past, but it still made his palms sweat a little at the thought of being alone with her…
“Y-Yeah! I mean- Yeah… if no one else is man enough to go!” Amber glared at Trevor and Jamie, who both made a face at her and crossed their arms.
“I’d rather not get eaten by a creepy barn monster, thank you.”
“Y-Yeah! If you guys die, I’ll always remember your brave sacrifice!” Ember pushed Trevor by his shoulder.
“Dude! There is no monster in your barn!”
“Yeah? So why are you going with them, too?!” Ember bristled.
“I-I have chores to do when I get home tonight! Y-You know-! Screw you, Jamie!” Ember huffed and stomped out of Nicolas’s garage with a huff. Amber looked at Jamie and frowned, while Nicolas just looked a little bewildered and Trevor looked vindicated.
“I’m with Ember and Jamie. You guys are nuts for going out there at night after what Nick saw.” Nicolas sighed and Amber shrugged, trying to look indifferent even though she was becoming anxious at the mere thought of being out there in the middle of the night. Alone… with Nick…
Jamie and Trevor both left for their homes, not far behind Ember. Amber and Nicolas were left alone together, a slightly awkward silence falling in between the two of them.
“When… are we going to do it?”
“Huh?” Amber blinked and turned to face Nicolas. He was rubbing the back of his neck again and shifting one of his feet around the gritty floor.
“Uh- Just so you know, you don’t have to come with me. I-I don’t-”
“What? No! No, no, really, I don’t mind doing this! I wouldn't have offered if I wasn’t curious about what you saw.” Nicolas’s shoulders relaxed a little but he still seemed a little sheepish. He couldn’t quite meet Amber’s eyes but she didn’t bring any attention to it.
“Oh-? Okay, okay! …so, maybe around nine or ten or something?” Amber nodded.
“Yeah! Yeah that sounds good. Um, I’ll have to go give my dad his dinner at the library at nine, though.” Nicolas perked up a little.
“I can come with you! Y-You know, I could-”
“-sneak out?” Amber was smiling a little in spite of her best effort not to. Nicolas’s eagerness to spend time with her wasn’t overlooked but she still couldn’t stop herself from feeling butterflies in her stomach. She tried to drop her smile but now she had an awkward, tight lipped expression on her face that Nicolas mimicked.
“I’d… like that. I don’t think we have to worry about my dad much. You know how he is at night.” Nicolas nodded. Amber’s father was a little weird but not in a bad way, at least not in his opinion.
“Yeah, we’ll play it cool.” Amber rolled her eyes.
“Yeah. ‘Cool’. That’s exactly what cool people say.”
“Shut up! Sheesh-!”
They both agreed to meet up in between their houses, which were only a block away from each other. The library was on the other side of town, and Trevor’s house on the outskirts opposite of where Amber’s father was working. Nicolas’s curfew was at around nine, so he pretended to go to bed early and snuck out of his home and met his friend down the road in between where they both lived.
“Have any trouble?” Nicolas shook his head.
“No, dad’s been out of town for a while and mom always goes to bed early lately.” It’s possible that he could get into trouble if anyone saw him out with Amber but most of the time he and his friends get a stern look and a head shake when they are out past their curfews. Anyway, if he just says he wanted to walk Amber into town, it would likely be forgiven, even by his mother who would be very displeased to learn that he was still sneaking out late at night.
“Alright. If anyone busts you, though, I told you it was a bad idea.” Nicolas waved her off.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry! Who’s gonna get mad at a boy walking a girl into town late at night?” Amber shrugged.
“Dunno. Adults are weird.” That was something they both could agree on.
It was always dark and humid outside, cool even during the current summer. It was dark enough that they both walked with flashlights, in the center of the cracked, roughly paved road without a care of being hit by a car, as none drove around in the mountains anymore, or anywhere else for that matter. The sky was permanently overcasted to the point it was nearly impossible to discern the time without a watch of some kind, and Amber always wondered if they even had the time right anymore.
The trees appeared to be waterlogged, always dripping with water even when it hasn’t rained for some time. The leaves of the trees, even the pines that were supposed to keep their needles year round, were all brown-grey and sagging as though dead. A thick blanket of leaves covered the ground nearly ankle deep to the children, even on parts of the road. It made the need for long pants and thick shoes a necessity for anyone that walked around in the mountains. Otherwise their shoes and shins would be soaked in water and would likely ruin the footwear entirely. Amber and Nicolas made a game of carving a path through the thicker parts of the ground by dragging their feet, seeing who could make the most impressive lines that would last the longest.
Entering the town they lived in, the streets were illuminated, though dully. There was more than enough light so the streets could be walked safely, though it flickered, waxed and waned as though the light was emulating a heart beat. It was, in a way. It brought Amber a little bit of comfort, a little bit of pride, too, as it was all thanks to her father this time at night. There weren't many people out at this time nor were there many places with the lights on. There never was, even in the typical daylight hours. A few places, like an old pizza shop that had been turned into a bar, still had some faint candle light reflecting in the windows but Amber and Nicolas didn’t bother to peek and see who was in there. They could guess Jamie’s dad was, along with some of the alchemists and older men that always seemed a little drunk no matter the time of day.
“Do you think your dad is okay? The lights are flickering a lot tonight…” Amber shrugged and tried to shake off a leaf that had been stuck to her shoe since she began walking.
“Yeah? I mean I guess so. He’s probably distracted again. You know how he is, especially when he’s working at the library.”
“It seems like a lot of work… How can he take care of everything?”
“Well… it’s not like he has to make a conscious effort to keep the lights on. …not that it’s not hard or anything.” Amber didn’t think that her father didn’t put in a lot of work and she didn’t like it when others thought that of him. Nicolas never did, though Trevor and Jamie sometimes tried to insinuate that, much to Amber’s annoyance.
“Yeah, I get it. I just wonder how it feels…”
“Like, to do it?”
“Yeah.”
“Honestly I have no idea. He doesn’t talk about it much for whatever reason. I don’t think he even knows.”
Amber and Nicolas both had pulled their hoods up as they continued to walk. The breeze was wet and chilly, as it always was. They could hear the clicking and chittering of krill somewhere in an empty building on main street. The noises the crustaceans made were loud and echoed inside of the vacant building. Most of the buildings were empty in their town. There weren't many people that lived there and there weren't enough resources to do anything with them other than gut them for anything of value and feed it into places that were in constant use, like homes and the library and bar and the old clinic that Amber and Nicolas were just passing by.
“By the way… What are you even bringing him?” Nicolas nodded towards the stain-soaked newspaper that Amber was holding under one of her arms. She slips it into one of her hands, making a face as she raises her arm into the air and grimaces at the greasy spot that was left behind that was dangerously close to her armpit.
“Ugh-! It’s just some krill my mom bought off of Mr. Anders the other day… It keeps leaking all over the place and it kind of smells, though… I don’t know why she insists we eat this crap.” Amber made a face of disgust as she offered the meat to her friend. He returned the face and held his hands up in a ‘no, thank you’ gesture. He could smell it ever since he met up with her just outside of town and it only seemed to smell worse the longer they walked together. Nicolas could imagine a shrimpy looking krill that’s all bent out of shape with its feathers falling out and leaking all kinds of gross liquids crushed into the folded newspaper that his friend carried. He shuddered slightly and shook his head.
“Well… We’re almost at the library, so hopefully your dad will just toss it like he always does.” Amber laughs a little at this.
“Yeah… He really hates krill…”
“He likes books, though.” She makes a face.
“Ugh, he likes the paper, Nick. He at least doesn’t try to eat the covers…”
“That you know of-” Amber rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, that I know of.”
Both children felt a wave of anxiety wash over them as they finally began to approach the library. The building was one of the most nicely lit in the entire town, so much so that it nearly looked out of place. The outside of the two story building was by far the most modified of any, including the clinic. A lot of large, metal objects and an uncountable number of wires seemed to stick out every which way from every floor, including the roof. Neither Amber nor Nicolas really understand exactly how this helps the town produce power but they mostly just shrug it off, since there wasn’t much of a point wondering about it at their age.
“Do… you think that he won’t ask any questions?” Nicolas shuffled to a halt behind Amber, who stopped only a few steps ahead of him. She turned to face him, sucking on her teeth.
“Well… why would he? I bring him food all the time and he usually doesn’t acknowledge me much because of how busy he is.” There was a hit of bitter hurt in her voice as she spoke. Nicolas felt a little guilty for asking, but it wasn’t like he was trying to hurt her feelings.
“Y-Yeah… I- Uh-” Amber shook her head.
“Let's just drop it off and go. The less we hang around the better.”
Amber and Nicolas entered the library, fully intending to briefly call out to Amber’s father and drop the food off when he inevitably gave them some basic, distracted response as he always did. They expected to see the main floor of the library empty or to simply see her father hunched over one of the old, metal folding tables with either a stack of newspapers beside him or a few books he didn’t like that had most of the pages missing out of them. Amber and Nicolas did not expect to see her short, lanky father leaning against one of the bookshelves that was nearly two feet taller than he was with his arms crossed and an uncharacteristically stern, attentive look on his face as though he had been waiting for them to arrive this entire time.
“U-Uh… D-Dad-?”
“What did you think you’re doing?” Amber’s father’s face was stiff, a deep frown tugging at the corners of his wrinkled mouth and his bushy brows bunched up nearly to his thinning hairline. His daughter made a face, taken aback and confused. Her and Nicolas’s minds were running wild as they began to wonder if- or how- he could possibly know what they had planned for that night.
“I- W-What? D-Dad, I’m just bringing you dinner! Nick came along because it was dark a-and he was already going into town anyway-” It was a bold lie on her part, and it only deepened her father’s frown. The children were genuinely stunned that the usually absentminded man seemed to instantly acknowledge the fact that they were up to no good. He unfolded one of his arms from his chest, the light blue glow from just underneath his partially unbuttoned shirt casting his face in an unattractive blue light. He beckoned his daughter over, and she couldn’t resist the urge to look at her friend, speechless as she took a few hesitant steps forward towards her father.
“Amber. Don’t. I already know what you and your friends have done the other night. You’re going to stay here with me and Nicolas is going home.” Amber laughed nervously, turning to face Nicolas as she silently begged him to say something, do something, anything to prove him wrong.
“I-I don’t-! D-Dad! We didn’t do anything-!”
“Y-Yeah,look-! I promise you, we didn’t-!”
Amber’s father sighed heavily and allowed his other arm to drop to his sides. It was slightly awkward for him to move, thanks to the wires that ran from his chest and to the town’s power supply that was connected to the ceiling. The metal cables squeaked as he walked towards his daughter, offering a hand out so she could hand him the small wad of newspapers she was carrying in one of her hands.
“Kids, please. I already know. I was already told all about your little adventure the other night.” He walked over to a partially opened window and briefly peered outside before he shoved his hand out, giving him the opportunity to shake the newspaper free of its contents. Amber’s father made a noise of disgust as he looked at the bloody stain left on the paper as he pulled it back inside of the window. He crumpled it up into his fist and pocketed the paper into his jeans. Amber felt defensive at the notion that one of her friends would tell on each other. They would get in trouble too! Did they think they would get less in trouble if they were honest? Nicolas was nervously clicking his flashlight on and off repeatedly.
“W-Wha-? Dad! Hey, that was your dinner! What are you-?!”
“I already have dinner, Amber. And so do you. You, Nicolas, need to head on home before your mother realizes you're gone.” Amber and Nicolas both watch her father walk over to one of the nearby folding tables, blinking in confusion as he places his hand on top of a slightly opaque jug that was filled with a reddish-black liquid.
“Uh, what is that?” Amber’s father sat down with a grunt, right next to the jug. He wiped the sweat off his brow and beckoned his daughter over once again with a wave of his hand.
“A gift from the men you and your friends were so damn rude to the other night by eavesdropping on things that aren’t your concern. Now come here and you go home, Nicolas. Straight home, and I mean that.” He shifted the container so that its contents sloshed around noisily. The liquid was thick, clinging to the jug’s inside and running down it in long, wide stripes that eventually became opaque, leaving behind a red stain in its wake. Amber and Nicolas wince at his tone, knowing full well that they had done something wrong but the sting of acknowledgement from an adult, especially one so close to them, made the children’s stomach twist up with shame.
“D-Dad, I-I’m… We’re-” Amber’s voice trembled slightly but to her and Nicolas’s surprise, her father’s face softened and he reached out and offered to take her hand, which she accepted without hesitation.
“I know, baby. I know… But you did do something wrong and you shouldn’t forget that. You shouldn’t either, Nicolas. You and all of your friends meddled in affairs that aren’t your own. Not yet, anyway.” Amber nearly released her father’s hand in surprise. Nicolas was in shock, too. He opened his mouth to question but his eyes flicked over to his, and Nicolas lost his voice before he could even speak.
“Oh, and while you’re walking home, Nicolas, make sure to keep it down. The last thing we need is even more disruption now, of all times.”
Nicolas looked between Amber and her father, furrowing his brows at the final thing that he said. What did he mean ‘now, of all times’? Why did the alchemists tell on them?! They even said they wouldn’t as long as they left! His ears burned as he ducked his head and turned around to leave his friend. Amber didn’t really look at him, either, still feeling the burn from her father’s scolding. Nicolas was feeling it too, though he was also feeling a nagging in the back of his mind as he walked back through town.
Why didn’t Amber’s father want them to go back to Trevor’s house?
Of course he was annoyed that they snuck out and eavesdropped on the alchemists, but why did they tell him this, of all people? Why didn’t they tell the rest of their parents, like his mom, so they wouldn’t be able to sneak out again in the first place? Why would they let them sneak out again, only to stop them at their last stop before going back to the barn? Were they hiding something in there after all…?
What did he see in the barn that night?
Leaving the safe glow of the town set Nicolas on edge. He was hesitant to step out on the road, wondering if there really was some kind of monster stalking around the woods where he lived. Wouldn’t the alchemists warn them of this? They didn’t seem to tell the other adults about the thing that scared them at the foot of the mountain… Perhaps they wouldn’t say anything after all… Maybe Jamie’s dad was right to be wary of them, that they weren’t as truthful as Nicolas’s mother seemed to think they were. Then again, Amber’s father seemed to believe there was something going on, or that it at least wasn’t as safe as it once was. Why else would he keep Amber at the library? That made sense, in a way, but it left other things unclear in Nicolas’s mind.
Would Amber’s father allow him to get hurt if he knew something was wrong?
It made Nicolas sweat as he walked back home. He was approaching the long, winding road that led to the Stillwaters ranch, where Trevor lived with his family. Would they be okay? Did they know that there was something going on or did the alchemists leave them in the dark too? Nicolas remembered the promise he made to Trevor, that he would check and see if there was anything weird inside of the barn beside his house. It would be dangerous to go up there at all…
But Nicolas sucked in a deep breath and realized that he was already walking up that old gravel road towards his friend’s house. His feet were moving on their own, as though guided by some unknown force. The only thing that Nicolas could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears and the crunching of his feet underneath the nearly overgrown road. His eyes flicked back and forth as he looked into the dark between the trees, wondering if there was anything- or anyone- watching him. He pointed his flashlight to the right, frowning as he struggled to keep the light steady in his hand. Nicolas grabbed it with his other hand, blinking as he moved it side-to-side.
It’s quiet. It’s always quiet this time of night but-
Where were all the krill?
The sound of shuffling causes Nicolas’s heart to skip a beat. He whips his flashlight around wildly in an attempt to identify the source but he couldn’t see anything whatsoever. It was as though the air around him was still. The humidity was almost unbearable and it was stifling, making it difficult for the child to breathe. Nicolas took several steps back, now realizing that he likely made a huge mistake not heading straight home like he should have. He wasn’t far from home… If he runs, he can make it there in less than ten minutes! Nicolas turns around and gasps in horror as he stumbles to a halt.
In the darkness beside the road, the light of his flashlight is reflected off a single, large eye, just like the one he saw several nights ago in the barn. Whatever was looking at him, it was obscured by the gnarled bushes and low hanging tree branches in such a way that Nicolas couldn’t make out its shape. He took three involuntary steps backwards, eyes wide and straining to make sense of what he was seeing. The foliage shifts and strains, breaking apart as the eye rises to a terrible height. Nicolas’s flashlight shakes so violently that he cannot get a clear visual on the creature, even though it was shrugging off branches and leaves that had tangled into its massive form. His eyes are so wide that he can no longer make out his surroundings. Which direction was he facing? Which way was the road and which way was his friend’s house? Nicolas’s breaths come out in short, panicked bursts, puffing up like smoke in the cold nighttime air and further clouding his vision. He wanted to turn and run but his body refused to respond to his demands.
Run.
R-Run…
Run!
Run, damn it-!
RUN!!!
M-Mom….!
“D-Dad?”
“Uh huh?”
Amber sat beside her father, a little numb as she watched him set down two glasses in between her and himself. He strained to open the jug of reddish-black liquid but succeeded as he broke the seal of dried blood that had nearly glued it shut. She swallowed and thought about what she wanted to ask him first. There was a lot on her mind and she didn’t know where to start. Her father sensed this and poured a glass until it was nearly overflowing before he pushed it in his daughter’s direction.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Amber frowned at the liquid in front of her. It had a strong smell and it made her stomach growl, but she still didn’t know what it was.
“Um… Yeah… Earlier. …what is this, anyway? The alchemists gave it to you?” She peered into the glass, knowing full well that it was blood of some sort, but it had dark flecks that either settled to the bottom of the glass or continued to float in the mixture almost indefinitely, as if it couldn’t decided if it was heavier or lighter than the liquid it was drifting in.
“Yeah. As a sort of apology for getting me involved in their affairs.” Amber sank lower in her chair.
“I’m… sorry, dad…”
“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for, Amber?”
“I… Huh?” She watched as her father pushed her glass towards her. She only stared at it, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she watched him pull out the newspaper he wadded into his pocket earlier and tossed it onto the table.
“Dad- Ew, seriously?” He dragged a thin book towards him and opened it so that many of the sloppily torn pages stuck out every which way.
“What? Don’t ‘ew’ me when I saved you from that shit your mother keeps buying. I know you sneak most of your portions out and toss them when she’s not looking.” Amber ducked her head again as her face burned with shame.
“I-Is there anything you don’t know…? I’m- I-I’m-” Her father put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a lopsided embrace.
“Honey, it’s okay. I was slipping the food I didn’t like to the pet dog I had when I was your age. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s different when it’s about important things, things that kids have no business getting themselves involved in.” He poured his own glass as he spoke, putting the jug down and immediately picking up the newspaper and unfolding it so he could tear it into uneven strips.
“You should drink some, though. It’s good for you.”
“...you still haven’t told me what it is.”
Almost as if it sensed the boy’s intention to run, the creature suddenly sprung into action, covering a distance of nearly a dozen yards in one long, even stride. Nicolas’s eyes widen and he can feel a few stray tears fall from his face as a blur of black-grey comes careening towards his face. Was… Was he about to die…? He can’t do anything other than stand there, mouth agape and his entire body trembling with terror. His flashlight reflected off the being’s claws, bringing attention to how polished they were, as though someone had taken great care in maintaining them. A sharp breath squeezed past his tightened throat and Nicolas found it impossible to cry out as his chest was snatched by the monstrous being’s clawed-hand and his entire body was swept off the ground as he was pushed deeper into the dark woods.
If it wasn’t for his freeze response, Nicolas was sure that he would be dead already. He could feel branches breaking against his back, twigs and sharp thorns snagging into his clothing and nicking his skin in spite of all his thick layers. There was nothing he could do other than curl himself into a tight ball and pray that when he was inevitably eaten, that his death would be quick and relatively painless. He screwed his eyes shut and held his breath, waiting for the creature to toss him into the air, to tear him to shreds, to do… something other than run through the forest with him in hand. Was it taking him to its den? Would he be eaten alive by a group of them?! His center of gravity suddenly shifted downwards and Nicolas released a startled yelp as his back collided against a hard and smooth surface. He should have been surprised that he experienced little to no pain from the sudden impact, but Nicolas was so overcome with shock that he could do nothing else other than stare at the beam of his flashlight, which only capture a very small portion of the being’s form and was smothered by a large, ragged cloth that seemed to drape off of one of its shoulders.
“GHRAA- N-Nauuughty chil-ldrennn- CKH- CKH- CKH- get e-eate-en in tale-es of oooold.”
A puff of steam enveloped Nicolas’s body as a weathered voice spoke around him. His eyes were focused on an imaginary point just to the side of the being, unable to drag his eyes towards any one point on its body. Out of the corners of his tunneled vision, he could make out shining, glittering metal, long, stained teeth, the curve of a set of horns that framed both the creature’s and his face as it leaned down to meet his eyes. He hadn’t realized that his feet were now touching the ground, that the beast was scarcely pinning him in place. It craned its neck, as though examining him, a deep, unsettling rasp filling the air and vibrating his eyeballs as it prepared to speak again.
“It’s something the alchemists gave me. Their own concoction. They won’t share the recipe with me, no matter how many times I ask them.” Amber’s father sighed as he patted the handle of the jug. Amber only nodded as she breathed through her nose.
“Did… they bribe you or something…?” Her father hummed as he dipped one of the slivers of paper into his glass.
“‘Bribe’, ‘apologize’, does it really matter, Amber?” The paper is wet and heavy as he flips it onto itself. Her father picks up the cup and holds it underneath his hand as he stuffs the blood-soaked paper into his mouth. Amber makes a face but it falls as her father’s words settle over her.
“I… guess it doesn’t. Dad-?”
“Mmpfh-?” He slurped up the liquid that soaked into the paper before he began to chew on it.
“I… um-”
“I genuinely- Mmpfh- don’t know what’s in it. The alchemists keep little things like this- close to their chest. Something about having things they can- Mmm- can barter with, I think.” Amber blinked and shook her head.
“Huh-? No, dad, it’s okay, I’m just…” Amber stared at her glass as her father slammed back half of his. She pulled it closer to her and chewed on her inner cheek.
“You said that…”
“Hmm?” As he wiped the back of his hand, Amber picked up her glass.
“...that we- me and my friends- that we got in… ‘things that don’t involve us’? What did you mean by that, dad?” He breathed in sharply through his nose and hummed to himself as she put the drink up to her lips and took a sip.
“It’s… not really a simple thing, Amber. I get why you did what you did, I would have done the same at your age. It’s why I’m not angry at you or your friends. But it doesn’t change the fact that you meddled in affairs that are way bigger than you are.” Amber’s eyes widen as the taste of the alchemists’ concoction hits her tongue.
“HHHRRR- SHU- SHU- SHU- Children should take-e toooo- HHHRRR- fae-rrrytales…”
Shuddering, gasping breaths escaped from the being’s split rib cage. A soured yet delicate smell hit Nicolas’s nose and he couldn’t decide whether or not he was already dead and this was hell or if this was real and he was still alive, if only until the beast decides to devour him whole. His entire body was engulfed in a humid heat that persisted in the area around him, clouding his vision and causing the light of his flashlight to become suffocated in the haze.
“Lessonssss… wov-en in hor-ror- HHHRRR- SHU- SHU- SHU- and n-never just o-ooone…”
Nicolas’s eyes widen as the creature leans in closer to him. As it shifts in place, its enormous snout nearly taps him on the crown of his head. A thin, knobby knee buckles under the weight of the body its supports and the gleam of metal that had caught his eyes earlier slides against the front of his shins. The boy’s breath caught in his chest and he wheezed as he gasped for air, utterly petrified as the limb- inorganic and artificial- pressed into his right elbow and subtly shifted the light directly into its face. The tears that welled in Nicolas’s eyes now freely fell as his vision narrowed and his sight jumped from sharp point to sharp point, lingering on nothing other than the one large, gleaming eye that burned itself into his core.
“But this is a ne-ew… world, with ne-ew talessss…”
Unbeknownst to him, the creature had released its hold on his shirt and instead hooked one of its great claws around his left arm, just above his wrists where he held his fist clenched tightly. For such a large beast, its dexterity was impressive, as it effortlessly maneuvered his arm into its grasp and unfurled his clenched fingers from his palm. It shifted its arm so the light jumped and twitched away from its face and towards its and Nicolas’s hands. Short, suffocated wheezes squeeze out from his tightening throat as the creature’s eye flicked away from his face, down to his outstretched palm that faced skywards.
“Wha-aaat- HHHRRR- SHA- SHA- SHA- will ec-chooo within pup…? Traaa-gety ooorrr ser-pen-dipity…?”
Nicolas watched with wide eyes as the creature curled this massive claw-tipped thumb across his palm. The obsidian-black talon dug into the roughened texture of his skin, slicing through it with such ease that the boy felt nothing, even as he watched thick and dark blood bead up from the wound and eventually pool into his slightly cupped palm. Nicolas blinked, his heart and guts dropping to his feet as his flashlight reflected dully off the reflection of his blood. It was thick, almost sticky as it threatened to run over the sides of his hand, much like used oil that has been used past its usefulness until nothing but filth and wear and tear remained. The entity chortled, a sound that was paradoxically mirthless yet carried a tune that would suggest amusement.
“Sss-See- Ehhh? Pu-up…- GRHAA- SHU- SHU- SHU- Wh-Wha-at boyy blee-eeds bla-aaack…?”
To his horror, Nicolas listened and watched as the creature’s rib cage began to expand, a bone crunching SNAP and CRACK hitting his ears as the beast shrugged and shuddered. His breath caught in his throat as several rows of teeth and its lower jaw rattled in the creature’s vacant skull, loosening themselves from where it was stuffed into place. A long, thick tongue was attached to the bone that plugged the beast’s mouth, yard upon yard of raw muscle unfurling from the depths of the creature’s body.
The hairs on Nicolas’s body stood on end as he felt the power behind its tongue as it slapped against his bleeding palm and lap up the black blood that poured from the wound. A low rumble echoed from within the beast’s body, a sound that was almost deafening around Nicolas’s head. Feet of tongue slithers against his palm before it was suddenly retracted back within its body, coiling against itself in waves not unlike a rope before the bone-like protrusions at its tip snap back into place around the underside of the creature’s front most teeth with a startling CLACK! The one, great eye that had been trained on Nicolas had vanished, seemingly having rolled up into the anomalous being’s head. A wave of hot nausea spread throughout his body and a cold sweat erupted across his skin. Nicolas felt as though he was about to be sick as the creature seemed to savour the flavour of his blood. When its eye eventually opened, the abject horror that Nicolas had felt throughout this encounter felt like a distant memory in comparison to the terror that he was now faced with as the entity took slow, deep breaths in preparation to speak.
“Things aren’t like they used to be, when I was your age… Just about everything is different, yet it’s all the same still.” Amber’s father sighed as he pushed his empty glass around with the tip of one of his fingers. The lighting pulsed with his heartbeat, slightly irregular but quickly returning to the same rhythm that it always was within moments.
“There’s things that kids concern themselves with and things for adults. Kids always want to stick their noses where they don’t belong, even when it’s for the best that they don’t.” He trailed off as he watched his daughter chug the last remnants of her dinner. Her lips were a blackish-red and a few stray drops ran down from the corner of her mouth. She licked her lips and struggled between expressions of thoughtfulness and surprised delight. Her father smiled at her, though there was a hint of sadness underneath it in the way his brows furrowed and his head tilted downwards. He grabbed the long sleeve of his stained shirt and scrubbed it against Amber’s mouth, in spite of her halfhearted protest for him to stop.
“You’re… trying to grow up too fast, Amber. You don’t want to involve yourself in the affairs of adults. Trust me… you don’t.” He sighed as he let his daughter push his hand away from her. Amber was quiet and kept her hand on her father’s wrist.
“Dad…?”
“Yeah?”
“What is going on…? I mean- Should I- Should we be scared?” He placed his other hand on top of her’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I… I don’t know, baby. I honestly don’t know… But-” Her father gently pulled in close and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. Amber felt anxious but being so close to her father, even if his core was quite literally burning hot, brought her comfort.
“-but I won’t let anything happen to you. Not if I can help it… Just… “ He trailed off a little as he sighed. He released her hand and instead placed it on top of her head, gently smoothing her hair down a little as he struggled to find the right words.
“...just let me help you, okay? Don’t go getting yourself into shit you won’t be able to get yourself out of.” His words left Amber silent. She could only nod silently as she closed her eyes. There was a dull throb behind her eyes that made her throat squeeze tightly, but she managed to swallow it down and stifle it before she burst into tears.
“I’m sorry, dad…” Her father squeezed her tightly.
“Don’t be sorry, baby… Just be careful. I love you and I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you-”
His voice quivered a little and his shoulders began to tremble and heave slightly, as though he were about to break out into a sob. Amber felt her tears briefly dry out of shock, but then they came cascading down her face as her father failed to fully hold back a shaky breath from escaping his lips. She didn’t know what to say or think, so she just held onto him tightly and mumbled out an ‘I love you too, dad’ underneath her breath as she briefly thought about Nicolas and whether or not he went straight home, like her father asked him to, or if he went to Trevor’s instead…
“HHHRRRUUU- S-Ssssuch an unfor-tunate pup… SHU- SHU- SHU- Your purpose is to-”
The creature’s breath caught in its throat, releasing a harsh wheezing nicker from its open ribs. Its teeth clicked together as its mangled arm readjusted Nicolas’s flashlight back towards its face.
“-to ssssave us al-ll.”
The thick tip of a claw was pressed into Nicolas’s forehead. The weight behind it was staggering, forcing the back of his head to touch the wall behind him. All Nicolas could do was look up at the Anomaly, his entire body going slack as the terror he felt morphed into something unrecognizable.
“Sssuch a sad litt-le pup… You a-lone… HHHRRR- mussst break the sk-y….”
The Anomaly straightens herself up and pulls away from Nicolas’s collapsing body. His eyes were pinpricks, quivering in their sockets as thick tears streamed down his pale cheeks. She lets the boy’s flashlight fall to his side where it ultimately drops from his loose grasp and clatters onto the ground underneath him. The light instantly dies, leaving them both in a darkness that was nearly complete. She could easily make the child out and how his shoulders heaved slightly as he hiccuped on his sobs. With a loud POP, she cracks her neck and releases a breathy groan as she prepares to haul her massive body onto her feet.
Nicolas was scarcely able to breathe, wheezing every time he took a half breath in. His flashlight lay forgotten at his side, even as he blindly clambered around in the dark. He couldn’t find his footing, no matter how hard he tried. Nicolas’s hands found the leaf-covered ground, shuddering at the wet, slimy texture that sank up to his elbows that did nothing to cool the fever that had his body in a vice grip. He panted as he mustered up the strength to rise to his feet, arms outstretched and flailing weakly as he struggled to maintain his ever-changing sense of balance that seemed to pull him every which way other than the direction that he wanted to go.
Where… Where did he want to go?
The trees stretched overhead, twisting in on themselves and blotting out the leadened skies overhead. Their presence was overbearing. Suffocating. Nicolas was drowning, desperately trying to claw his way to the surface of an impossibly deep forest and had no respite in sight. Again and again, he fought, he ran, he climbed and struggled and writhed and all he could do was settle to the black abyss below, too heavy to move, too weak to do much else other than curl in on himself and whisper that final, fleeting machination that has been imparted unto him and a legion of others.
An unnatural strength surged from his core, a final rush before the depths crushed his being. Nicolas scrambled and clawed his way to the topmost branch of the tallest tree, frantically smashing his fists against the canopy and bracing his forearms against it, pushing with all his might as a single phrase echoed in between his ears and coursed through his entire body.
Break
the
sky.
|
|
@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @thanksatt, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3
#original#original story#original characters#drama#suspense#body horror#coming of age#childhood#family#no strong warnings apply#redmonarch217 helped in the creation of this world and story
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chase the wind and touch the sky
For @nolofinweanweek day 3: Aredhel
Unlike her brother, Irisse has never had occasion to take flight on the back of an Eagle.
She does not particularly mind, though, for how could that be at all superior to what she has now? She is flying perfectly well like this, bent low over her horse’s neck as they race over the grassy plains. The sky is clear and blue and forever above her, and the land stretches away before her, and the horse’s speed becomes her own, and she is free, free in a way that Turukano can never understand in his walled-up city.
There is laughter, wild and joyous, from behind, and the pounding of hooves, and Tyelkormo comes racing up beside her, keeping perfect pace, his pale braids streaming behind him in the wind. He offers her a carefree grin and a wave, which she returns. A glance to her other side reveals Ambarussa nearly caught up as well.
The ride was perfect already when taken alone, but this is its own kind of perfection.
Later, they will hunt. Later, they will gather around a fire and share food and drink and tales and teasing. Later, they will all curl up in their cloaks around the embers, and rise in the morning to do it all again. It will almost be like they are in Aman again, before darkness and cold and death, before her family scattered to the winds and her brother felt any need to keep her shut up.
Now, there is only flight, swiftness with not one thing tethering her in place.
After minutes or hours, there comes a dark smudge on the horizon, one that slowly resolves into a dark wood. Irisse cannot say how it is different from any of the many other woods she has seen, but it is. Something about it is drawing her in.
She starts to turn her horse towards it, only to be halted by Tyelkormo’s hand on her reins. “Come this way, Irisse,” he says, something foreboding behind his eyes. “There’s nothing good over there. We’ll have better hunting somewhere else.”
She can’t; she has to enter the wood; it’s a simple fact. When she tries to nudge her horse forward, though, Tyelkormo still holds her back. “We can’t take the horses in there,” he says.
That’s solved easily enough. Irisse slides lightly to the ground, relinquishing the bridle to him. “I’ll go on foot, then,” she says. “I’ll see you later.”
He won’t quite meet her eyes. “Namarie, Irisse,” he says, and then he and Ambarussa wheel their horses and are galloping away.
It’s all right; she can still go swiftly on foot. She takes off running through the long grass, and soon comes under the eaves of the wood.
It is dark here, and the trees are closely tangled together, but she is nimble and careful, and for a time can still nearly fly even so. She is not trying to get anywhere in particular, now that she is among the trees; she only moves for the joy of it, of the working of her arms and legs and the panting breaths in her lungs and the wind whipping past her.
The branches come ever closer and closer, but she dodges every one, weaving around this one and ducking under that and...
One catches her shoulder, like the firm grip of a hand, and shakes her slightly, and there is a voice saying to her Echuio! Wake up!
Aredhel awakes, and looks into eyes dark as flint.
Once he sees that she’s awake, Eol shifts away from her and slides out of the bed. Already, she can feel the tendrils of his will slipping in past her defenses, wrapping around her mind.
It is fine. It will be fine. He can trap her in this house, he can exert dominion over her body and her waking mind, but he cannot stop her from flying free when she dreams. As long as she has that, she can survive.
She breathes.
#nolofinweanweek#nolofinweanweek2023#silmarillion#aredhel#with appearances by#celegorm#ambarussa#eol#not eol friendly#standard nan elmoth warnings apply#okay i know touch the sky is probably a cliche song for aredhel#but it always makes me think of her and also makes me hurt for her#she is strong as the seas are stormy!#she is proud as an eagle's scream!#let her be free
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If your reply to one of my posts got deleted it's because I don't want to contribute to whisper campaigns containing claims I can't personally verify — you can use reblogs for that if you want, but please only reply if you want to reply, rather than piggyback.
(not being particularly strict here, but a couple of them had off-site links to things I'm not really talking about or specific name mentions)
#I know people are concerned#and maybe they are right to be but please don't use my replies just to signal boost#this also applies to the anonymous messages that are warning me or talking shit about people I don't know#since I can't reply in any way except publicly#I won't reply at all#you may be correct#I don't know#but I'm not going to signal boost claims along those lines#been on the receiving end of miscommunication too many times myself for that#if you sent one of those messages my reply is 'thank you but I'll be fine'#I'm a big girl#and one trying to stick to factual claims rather than value judgments for matters this serious#if you want value judgments I have very strong opinions about what writing techniques are the most helpful
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Alright, to ao3's soon to be arriving Wattpad Refugees, a basic guide to general user culture:
1.) Unlike Wattpads vote system that let's you like each chapter, the ao3 equivalent kudos only allows one per work. Everyone is generally quietly annoyed about this. To engage with each chapter, you're heavily encouraged to comment. Trust me, it makes people's day.
2.) Ao3 has no algorithm. By default it's latest updated work first. You can find things to your taste through searches, filters and tags.
3.) 'No archive warnings apply' and 'user has chosen not to use archive warnings' mean two very different things. No archives warnings means the work is free from any content that could require a warning tag (character death, graphic depictions of violence, non-con, etc). User has chosen not to use archive warnings means it could contain any of the warning content, be it hasn't been explicitly tagged. Treat it like an allergen. No archive warnings apply is allergen free. User has chosen not to use archive warnings, may contain traces or whole chunks of the allergen. If you're likely to have a bad reaction, maybe don't take the risk.
4.) Speaking of warnings, ao3 has very few restrictions on the type of work that's allowed. Whatever your personal thoughts or feelings on that are, thats how the site is. You're likely to run across some dark subject matters and a lot of people are uncomfortable with reading that. You're well within your rights not like these works and have your opinion on whether they should be allowed, but harassing the authors of such works (or any works) is more likely to come back on you than them. Ao3 operates on a strong policy of 'don't like, don't read'. Use the tagging system to your full advantage to only engage with the kind of works you want to see.
We look forward to welcoming you all and seeing the fantastic works you create. Happy writing!
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fear
- gojo satoru x reader
his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave, only to unlock a new fear in him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.
genre/warnings:
angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, injured reader, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end
notes:
*sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.
"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"
"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"
That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.
"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."
"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."
On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.
Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.
Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.
And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.
"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"
Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.
It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.
"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"
"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.
But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.
When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help feeling annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."
It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.
"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."
"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."
Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"
"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"
You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."
"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."
"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"
"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it has come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.
"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."
Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?
You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."
"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”
That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.
"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."
Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.
You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.
Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.
Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.
If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.
Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were. After Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.
As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you had already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.
Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.
"You've royally fucked up."
Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
The reverse cursed technique user threw him a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."
The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"
A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.
Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.
"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."
He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?
The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."
She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"
It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—
"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.
"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"
"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."
Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes.
Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.
"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.
Satoru.
But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.
You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice—even when your cursed energy had burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.
Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.
"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.
"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue, and you saw him. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.
Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.
Yet at the same time you knew that with him here, Ichiji must be safe already, and it gave you reassurance so great even when you were on the verge of dying. "I... can't..."
"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out in a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."
It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as your consciousness began slipping away.
And everything faded to nothingness.
Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?
But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.
And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.
It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.
You had laid there like a broken doll, your eyes dimmed, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.
Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.
That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.
"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."
When she said that, Satoru felt terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.
The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru left him.
He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.
"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.
"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.
And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.
But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.
It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.
"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."
And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.
Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.
You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, and as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, you were only able to move sluggishly.
"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.
It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.
You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.
"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridge between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern.
Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.
You felt tears pricking the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.
"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.
The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?
You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.
"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."
Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”
You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.
Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.
He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.
"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.
Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."
"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"
His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.
"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.
"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.
He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"
You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"
"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”
He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.
You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"
"Shut up,” he grumbled. “What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?”
"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."
"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.
The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.
But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.
"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."
Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried to be unaware of it.
"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.
“You said you could have any other women out there—”
"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Us. I don't regret anything. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."
“That's...” you blinked, before letting out a small sigh. “Okay. Fine then. Let's just put it behind us for now.”
“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I didn’t mean any of it. And that I hate hurting you the way I did. I won’t—”
"Satoru, I understand," you let out another sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I would have understood."
"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"
"A thank you would be nice."
In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."
He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.
"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again.”
You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"
"Then just let him die."
You swatted his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.
“I love you,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.
“Mmhm.”
As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.
Epilogue
Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.
Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come in peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.
He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.
"You are—"
"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"
"Hah?"
If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.
"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."
Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!
"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."
"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...
Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?
Hey, that sounds like something I can do!
#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru angst#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk fluff#hurt/comfort#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk gojo#gojo fluff#gojo angst#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen imagines#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#nanami kento#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru imagines#gojo x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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back massages
pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader
warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping
summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour
"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.
"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"
You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."
"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.
"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.
He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.
But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.
He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.
Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.
"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.
"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-
"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-
"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.
He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.
Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.
"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.
"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."
Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.
"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."
You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.
Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.
"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.
"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"
Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.
Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.
"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.
Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.
Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.
"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.
"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."
Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.
"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.
You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.
The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions have you shivering lightly.
"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.
"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.
In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.
He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.
"Let me give you one too, cariño."
You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.
How could you possibly say no?
You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.
The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.
His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.
Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.
You start feeling your pulse in your neck.
One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.
Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.
"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.
A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.
He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.
“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”
He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.
Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.
“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.
‘Don’t stop.’
Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.
You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.
As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.
A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.
“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”
He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.
He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.
Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.
His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you
You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.
A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.
Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.
“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.
A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.
His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.
It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.
He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.
With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.
You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.
The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.
a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara#atsv miguel#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara x reader one shot#miguel smut#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o’hara smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel x reader#spiderman 2009#spider man 2099#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#across the spiderverse
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The Alchemy I
jason todd x fem!reader
aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood
warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence
Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.
You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.
Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all.
Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.
You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”
“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative.
You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”
He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.
Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”
His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.
He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”
“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water.
When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.
“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury.
He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.
You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.
You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.
He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.
You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”
He grunts.
You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.
You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.
And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.
You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.
You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.
You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There’s a short beat.
“Do I seem like someone that worries often?”
You peek your head out of the bathroom door.
You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”
He snorts. “You’re not far off.”
You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”
“I do.”
“I can go in the other room if you—”
He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Okay then.
You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.
You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.
This guy kills people, right?
You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.
“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes.
The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”
He gives a short hum, thoughtful.
“What?”
“You’re good.” Hardly.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.
He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.
He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.
“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.
You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.
That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.
Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.
You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.
Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.
You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand.
“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”
“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”
“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his.
You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”
“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.
He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.
You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.
He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on.
“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”
“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”
“Right.”
“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”
You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.”
He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not.
“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”
He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.”
“Rest from what?”
A series of gunshots echo from down the street.
“Next question.”
Concise.
You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.
“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.
“Does it matter how I answer?”
“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”
He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”
You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”
“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”
You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”
You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”
“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.
You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.”
You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”
He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.
He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”
You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”
He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”
“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”
“No.”
You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”
“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”
You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”
“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”
You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”
He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.
Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”
“You could lock your window.”
“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”
“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.
“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.
You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”
You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.
Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse.
The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.
But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.
You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.
“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.
He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”
“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.
“No, I—why are you on the floor?”
You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”
“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot.
You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”
He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”
You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?”
“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.
You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over.
It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.
You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.
It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.
He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”
You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”
“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.
“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”
His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”
You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”
“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.
You wave him off, “It’s fine.”
He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”
You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”
About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.
You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly.
You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.
His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles.
You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”
He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.
“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”
Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.
He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”
You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”
He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.
When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.
So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no.
Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.
Hard yes.
You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.
Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.
“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”
He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”
He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”
“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch.
You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”
“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated.
You throw your arms up at your side, ��I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”
He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.
You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.
You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.
And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar.
You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.
He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.
You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.
“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”
“I am.” He says shortly.
You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.”
He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”
“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.
“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.”
He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”
You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.
You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”
“What?”
“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”
He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second.
You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.
It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.
You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over.
You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”
He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”
“Wrong line of work.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”
You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?”
He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.”
“Someone does.”
He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.”
Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.
“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing.
Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”
“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”
“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.
“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”
He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”
You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”
His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”
You grin back, pleased with yourself.
There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces.
You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.
You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.
“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”
You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”
“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.
He nods.
“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.”
You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.
“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”
You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”
It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.
You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.
“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.
You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.”
He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”
You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”
He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it.
Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.
“Come on, put your weight behind it.”
You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”
He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.
You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.”
He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”
You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”
“Well, we’ll work on that too.”
You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.
“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”
You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”
“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.
“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.
He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.
You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”
He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at.
You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.
You perk up, “We’re done?”
“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”
Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”
You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”
He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”
You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.
You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down.
“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut.
In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.
He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”
You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”
He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”
You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?”
You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.
He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position.
Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.
You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.
Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.
He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.
He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly.
You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.
“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”
You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.
Alright, one step at a time.
#jason todd loves this stranger#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x y/n#jason todd/you#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x you#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#jason todd loves his gf
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wet nights | joel miller
pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak
summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n
a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3
main masterlist / ao3
Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.
You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.
Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.
But first, her 25th birthday party.
Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.
All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.
It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.
Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.
“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.
“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.
Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core.
The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.
“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.
Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.
“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”
Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.
“Joel,” he introduced himself.
“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.
“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.
As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.
“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”
Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.
“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.
Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.
“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.
“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”
A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make.
“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–”
At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment.
“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?”
You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.
“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him.
There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too.
“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.”
“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?”
“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.”
“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.”
Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”
“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?”
Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn.
“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.
You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath.
“And what works on you, Joel?”
You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.
“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.
“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes.
Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before.
Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.
“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass.
You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up.
“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement.
“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.
“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”
As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.
His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.
The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.
“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.
Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes.
“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.
Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.
His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.
“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.
“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.
“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.
From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.
For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it.
Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?
“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.
Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”
You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.
“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.
A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.
“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”
He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal.
You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.
“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”
“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”
This manwas relentless.
“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.
Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.
You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.
He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.
“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.
His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.
Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”
Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand.
“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.
“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”
“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.
Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.
Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.
He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.
After that, Joel let you take the lead.
You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.
It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.
“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”
Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience.
Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.
“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.
You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.
To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.
It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.
Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.
“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.
When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.
“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”
“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.
Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.
“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”
Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.
Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it.
“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”
Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.
“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”
Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.
A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.
“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”
Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.
“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.
After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.
Joel gave you a look in the mirror.
“You don’t?” you exclaimed.
Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.
Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”
“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.
You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.
“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.
Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.
Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror.
“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”
“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.
A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”
Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.
“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.
A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.
“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.
“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”
i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us smut#tlou fanfiction#tlou smut#bfd!joel miller#dom!joel miller#pedro pascal#*writing
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The 141 watching their partner give birth
Price
Is absolutely fascinated by the process
Constantly looking down there, slack jawed, telling you, "Honey, you've got to see this"
Makes you warn him waaaay too many times to not whip out his phone and start recording such an exposed view of between your legs
Does, however, receive your permission to take pictures/videos from a more "decent" angle (ones you can actually share with your friends and families, you know)
The picture he takes of you holding your child for the very first time? Yeah, say hello to his new lockscreen
Ghost
Looks down a few times but mostly keeps his focus up by your head
Gives oodles and oodles of soft praise telling you how good you're doing, how strong you are, how he knows you can do this
Has both hands on you throughout the delivery – one holding your thigh open, the other holding your hand for support
Is completely unfazed no matter how hard you squeeze him; doesn't so much as blink even as you almost break his fingers with your death grip
The only time he lets you go is to cut the umbilical cord (and then hold your child so so preciously in his massive hands)
Gaz
Doesn't have the stomach to look, but he does manage to cut the cord
Lots of petting your hair, applying cool cloths to your neck, whispering praise/encouragement in your ear
Reminds you to breathe when you forget to (and realizes he sometimes needs the reminder too)
Finds himself getting a little choked up seeing you in such pain, but has to hold himself together for both your sakes
Maintains his composure up until he hears your child's first cries, and then it's Niagara Falls streaming down his face, tons of wet kisses pressed to your sweaty temple
Soap
You'd think being surrounded by blood and guts on the regular would have prepared him for this moment, right?
Looks down once. Passes out immediately
Poor guy goes down like a sack of bricks and has to be dragged out of the way by a couple of nurses
Doesn't come to until after the birth is over, and is so incredibly apologetic/embarrassed/disappointed when he realizes what happened
But once he finally lays eyes on your child, he's lighting up like he just won the lottery and is smothering you both with all the love he has to offer
#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#soap x reader#john price#simon riley#kyle garrick#john mactavish#tf 141 x reader#cod x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2
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Fucking a curse
Choso x F!Reader
A/n: This is part of my 'Sex' event and collab with other writers!! Please check out the other amazing works here
Synopsis: Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine a curse like Choso could give you the best orgasm of your life
Warnings: Rough sex, intense orgasm
~
For a curse, Choso was strangely incredibly attractive.
At least that was your first impression of him. His long black stringy hair, tied into two high ponytails that jutted upward and outward, and his small dark purple tired eyes, framed by slightly thin eyebrows, yes, from the moment you laid eyes on him you were smitten.
But for someone so breathtaking, Choso's reserved nature served as a stark opposite to his striking appearance. He was fairly quiet, rarely speaking, and often seemed content to observe rather than participate. For a while, he barely seemed to acknowledge you outside of your relationship with Yuji and your crush on him looked painfully one-sided. As a curse, it was easy to assume that he didn't care about you, that your presence was just another detail in his world of silence and observation. it was only natural that you would assume he wanted nothing, or rather, knew, nothing about intimacy.
So how... how did you get in this situation?
"Hngh...." you whine. Everything was hot, too hot. You dizzily look up, breath catching as you see Choso face hovering above you. His dark brown hair clings to his sweat-dampened skin and his eyes gaze down upon you with such raw dirty need that you feel your stomach twist into knots and your pulse quicken.
You are about to say something, something about how hot you are when suddenly you feel Choso's cock head harshly plunge deep into your entrance, the tip pressing against a part of you that you could only dream about reaching with your fingers. The pleasure of the sudden intrusion is striking, numbing, and borderline painful. It makes you reel unconsciously reel back to escape the foreign feeling, but a large strong hand splays itself over your stomach, not only stopping you but applying delicious pressure above where his dick sat deeply in you.
"Can't stay still can you?" Choso's voice comes out breathless, a failed attempt to mask how entirely aroused he is right now. He picks up the pace and leans down until his lips are against the nape of your neck. You whine when you feel soft kisses peppered all over your skin, a shockingly tender yet bold exploration; each nibble and kiss perfectly attuned to your responses, drawing you deeper into a state of blissful surrender. Your cunt flutters and clenches instinctively, sending even more bolts of hot ticklish pleasure to your core.
You are too lost in the pleasure to notice that Choso had placed his hand under one of your thighs, lifting the leg until it's pressed against your chest. The new position allows him to go deeper, which you didn't even know was possible at this point.
"Ah- God, you feel like heaven Y/N" Choso groans and throws his head back. You could almost cum just by looking at Choso because god he looks almost ethereal as he thrusts into you. His pale skin glistens with sweat, each muscle in his abdomen tightening rhythmically with every thrust. His lips part slightly, revealing shallow, hurried breaths. The subtle bobbing of his Adam's apple accompanies each pant, his eyes tightly shut, lost in the throes of pleasure.
"I wannaaaa...." You can't even say the last word because you're afraid it might ruin how fucking euphoric you feel right now. If there was a heaven, being fucked by Choso was it. What was even happening right now? Where were you? You feel so much, you feel everything, everywhere, all in this moment, but your mind and your mouth have never been taught to name this sensation.
"Please, Jesus, please y/n do it." Hes almost whining at this point.
"Choso I'm-" You are not even able to finish the sentence because you are already climaxing on his dick. Choso's ministrations don't cease, in fact he speeds up, making the insanely euphoric wave of pleasure crash down on you even harder. Your mind is blank, your thighs are shaking and your back arches of the bed as Choso fucks you through the most pleasurable feeling you have ever experienced.
"Stay with me baby, we are not done yet."
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso x reader#choso smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#choso kamo#jjk choso#jujutsu kaisen choso
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Lipstick Stamps | Lando Norris⁴
Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader
Warnings: none, just pure fluff
“Ready soon, love?” Lando peeked his head in your shared bedroom.
You glanced up from your vanity table and smiled at him. “Almost there, I just need a few more minutes. Could you help me zip up my dress, though?”
You turned around, the ocean blue fabric flowing against your skin as Lando made his way towards you. His strong hands gently pulled the zipper up, the sound echoing through the room.
He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You look stunning, as always.” and kissed the back of your neck.
You blushed at his words and turned to face him. “Thank you. I just need to apply my lipstick and then we can get going.”
Lando watched in awe as you carefully applied the ruby red lipstick, a color that went along with your dress perfectly. His heart swelled with pride, knowing he was the luckiest man alive to have you by his side. As you capped the lipstick and set it down, you caught his soft gaze in the mirror that made your heart flutter.
“Shall we?” Lando offered his arm to you with a charming smile.
“Wait, I need to blot the excess off first,”
“Want me to get you a tissue?” he asked, his hand already reaching for the box.
“No, come here,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. Lando’s eyes slightly widened in surprise when you leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to his right cheek, leaving a perfect imprint of red. He stilled for a moment, his heart pounding as he savored the sweet touch of your lips on his skin.
You pulled back, looked into his eyes and leaned back in to do the same to his left cheek. He closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh, feeling a rush of love for you surge through his veins. But you weren’t done yet. You planted a kiss on his temple, making your way to his forehead and stamping it all over with quick little kisses, each one a promise of love and affection.
Your lips descended to the right side of his face and peppered all over, until there was no spot left unkissed. Lando burst into giggles, his face growing even more pink than your blush, and squirmed between your hands, making it a bit hard to continue your rain of kisses on him.
But you persisted, marking his chin, his jaw, and finally finished with a boop on his nose, your laughter mingling with his until you both were breathless from the joy of the moment. You let go of his face and took a step back to admire your work and the beautiful man standing before you covered in your lipstick kisses, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with adoration.
Lando couldn't help but break into a wide grin, his heart bursting with love for you. He was completely captivated by your playful affection and the way you showered him with kisses, each one a testament to the deep connection you shared.
"There,” you said, snaking your arms around his neck, satisfied. “Now we can go.”
“You forgot the most important one,” before you could react, he wrapped his arms around your waist and captured your lips in a savoring kiss that spoke volumes. You melted into each other’s embrace, forgetting about the world and everything else until only the two of you existed.
When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your hearts beating as one. Lando rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips. “Now we can go,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
“And you love it,” you teased, leaning into his touch. “Now, let’s not keep our dinner reservation waiting.”
Hand in hand, you both made your way out of the bedroom and into the night, where the stars above seemed to twinkle just a little bit brighter as if they were celebrating the love that radiated between you and Lando.
#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x oc#lando norris x female reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris one shot#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris fic#lando norris#ln4 x reader#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#ln4 imagine#ln4 one shot#ln4 fluff#ln4 fic#ln4 fanfic#ln4#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x oc#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 fluff
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disarmed by desire. | luke castellan x f.r
₊˚⊹♡ luke can’t seem to get out of his head a certain someone, things become even harder when that certain someone, is an aphrodite’s daughter.
warnings: seduction, sexual tension, luke is obsessed over reader, reader’s an aphrodite’s daughter, reader has long hair (not really a warning but whatever).
reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes
pt2 here
Luke Castellan was obsessed with you.
No, not obsessed. He worshipped you.
He didn’t even know when it started. It was not one thing or situation that started it all, but little small things he witnessed that eventually lead to his confusing and strong feelings he wanted to desperately hide.
Being an Aphrodite’s daughter was no joke, nor was it falling for one of them. All of your brothers and sisters shared an unbeatable beauty. Each one of you is so different, but yet so similar. But the more you grew since your arrival to the camp when you were fifteen, the more you stood out to Luke’s eyes. The Aphrodite cabin girls were known for their charm, but you seemed different, less concerned with vanity and more with genuine connection.
The first flicker appeared during Capture the Flag. Luke wasn't actively participating, a rare occurrence for the camp's best swordsman. Instead, he leaned against a tree, nursing a minor but piercing shoulder wound himself, when she appeared. She wasn’t running across the battlefield like a fiery warrior, but holding a kid’s hand as he was a whimpering mess walking behind her, he sat down on a rock and she instantly attended his bloody knee.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t worry” her voice had said, and the little kid almost immediately stopped sobbing. “Other kids can be mean sometimes. What’s your name?”
Luke watched, spellbound, as your nimble fingers, surprisingly calloused for a daughter of Aphrodite, expertly cleaned and bandaged the wound. Sunlight kissed your hair, turning the braids into strands of melted gold. Laughter danced in your voice, calming the kid down and blending with the clash of swords.
It wasn't just your beauty, though that was undeniable. It was the tenderness in your touch, the quiet confidence radiating from you, a stark contrast to the usual flirtatiousness Luke associated with your cabin. He quickly realized you were also one of the few Aphrodite’s daughter who had the ability of influencing others with your voice; charmspeaking.
Even when your voice didn’t resonate for him, but for the little kid you were attending, he felt undeniably attracted to your sweet melody, maybe that’s why he stared so long at you too.
Then, your eyes met his. A smile bloomed on your lips. "Need some patching up yourself, brave knight?"
His breath hitched as your eyes pierced his, a blush creeping up his neck. He stammered, "No, I'm good." But the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He wasn't just injured physically; a new wound had opened in his chest, one caused by a flirty smile and a concern genuine enough to pierce through his thick built-up walls.
Luke's attraction to you wasn't solely physical, but he'd be lying if he didn't find himself momentarily stunned by the way you carried yourself.
He couldn't help but steal glances when you wore shorter skirts or crop tops that hinted at the toned physique earned through years of training, or when the older campers organized a secret night out at the lake in which you made sure to wear the best bikini you could find. He'd catch himself mesmerized by the way sunlight would dance on the curves of your body, sending a flicker of heat through him and his own veins. There was an undeniable beauty in your perfectly applied makeup, but it only served to highlight the mischief sparkling in your eyes and the warmth etched on your smile.
It wasn't just the jealousy your beauty ignited in other girls, or the admiration you garnered from younger campers. It was the way you moved, how confidence flowed through you like liquid gold, making even the simplest actions seem captivating. One afternoon, he saw you braiding wildflowers into your hair, your fingers moving with practiced ease, and he found himself staring with parted lips, hypnotized by the delicate beauty you created.
He started finding himself drawn to her laughter, its rich melody echoing through the camp. He'd catch glimpses of her practicing archery, her form uncannily elegant even as she sent arrow after arrow into the bullseye.
She was perfect.
His mind would try to rationalize, tell him it was the warrior in you that drew him in, the way you handled a sword with both grace and ferocity. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was the way your beauty existed in perfect harmony with your strength, a potent combination that left him both breathless and curious.
He wouldn't admit it out loud, not even to himself, but the truth was, Luke found himself daydreaming about brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, feeling the warmth of your skin against his fingertips as he leaned it for a kiss of your sugar lips. Something as simple as that had him zoning out of every conversation and forgetting about activities in the camp. He imagined the playful glint in your eyes when you caught him staring, the teasing lilt in your voice as you challenged him to a duel.
Until, well… a true duel emerged. Summer was just starting after all, and practice needed to be done.
Steel sang beneath the afternoon sun as their practice began. The sky was painted with orange and bright yellow colors, as your darkened figures danced around the field. Luke, known throughout camp as the prodigy at sword fighting, moved with a controlled ferocity, his blade a blur of deadly grace. But his opponent today wasn't your average camper. You wielded your sword with the effortless elegance of a former ballerina, impressive to be someone who’s main skill is not fighting, he had to admit. Each parry was a pirouette, each attack a leap defying gravity.
Sparks flew as your blades clashed, but where Luke relied on brute force, you danced around him, using your agility and unexpected angles to deflect his blows. He felt a frustrated flush creep up his neck and loudly beat inside his chest, every missed strike fueling the unspoken tension swirling between you.
Sweat already glistened on your sun-kissed skin, adding a raw allure to your perfectly applied makeup. It dripped down your collarbone and hid underneath your shirt.
Luke fought with intensity, fuelled not just by the thrill of the duel, but by the desire to impress the captivating enigma before him. You, in turn, met his ferocity with playful taunts and flirtatious dodges, your laughter tinkling in his ears.
Some campers have forgotten about their own practices, drawn to the captivating spectacle between you two. Whispers swirled about Luke's unmatched skill, your surprising prowess, and the undeniable spark crackling between you.
“Look at that” Grover shook Annabeth’s arm, eyes pierced in two shadows swiftly moving around the grass, clashing their blades with resonating grunts and heavy breaths.
“Who’s that?” Percy suddenly asked, eyes wide and parted lips hypnotized by the slender figure whose hair flew around like it had its own life.
“yn, an Aphrodite’s daughter” his friend explained. “Not bad at swords at all, though. But she’s got Luke on his nerves”
Percy nodded. “Yeah, I can tell”
But Annabeth laughed. “Not that kind of nerves. Let’s just say she’s enjoying the attention Luke gives her”
The fight went on, each passing moment stretching the boundaries of skill and endurance. Your movements were a whirlwind of elegance and precision, forcing Luke to constantly adapt, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
“Tired, hero?" you purred, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you walked around him and twirled your sword, the sunlight reflecting off its polished surface. "Perhaps a touch of Aphrodite's charm is what you need?"
Luke gritted his teeth, channeling his growing attraction into focused strikes. But despite the heat of the battle, your image kept blurring his vision - your smile, the way your hair fell around your face, how your cheeks flushed red and your glossy lips parted as you blocked his movement against you one more time. He felt his defenses crumbling, his usual stoicism replaced by a raw need to prove himself, not just as a swordsman, but as a man worthy of your attention.
“Careful, princess. Playing with fire might just burn you” he countered as he parried a particularly fierce blow, the impact sending a tremor up his arm. His voice was low enough for only you to hear.
"Oh, Luke" you laughed. “Thanks for worrying so much about me but, I know how to handle a little heat" You lunged, your blade aimed for his shoulder. He barely deflected it, the tip grazing his bicep, sending a jolt of adrenaline through him.
In a swift, mesmerizing blur, your blade danced around his, finding an opening. The clang of steel resonated as your sword disarmed him, sending his clattering to the ground. Silence descended, broken only by the ragged rasp of his breath.
He lets his knees fall to the ground, thinking you would have enough mercy for him to give him a break. But he found himself with the tip of your blade resting gently under his chin. You tapped it twice.
“Up, Castellan” you demanded. He looked up at you.
Your eyes, sparkling with both victory and amusement, held him captive. Sweat and dust smudged your face, adding a primal beauty to your already breathtaking features.
A slow smile tugged at his lips, not of defeat, but of something deeper. He lifted up his hands. "Seems I underestimated the true power of Aphrodite's daughters" he rasped, his voice husky with exertion and something else – an undeniable desire.
“Hell yes you did!” one of your sisters replied, earning a few laughs from the rest of the campers.
The small crowd erupted in cheers once the battle was determined as won by you. Luke eventually got up, sword still under his chin. He was much taller than you, to which you had to lift your own head up to fully see his face.
The roar of the crowd faded into a distant hum as Luke only focused on the heavy pounding on his chest, sword dangerously still close. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tracing a path past the flush blooming on his cheeks.
"And it seems that our little hero falls not just to skill, but also to some… irresistible charm" you purred, amusement tugging at your lips.
Luke grinned, a touch cocky, a touch breathless. "Perhaps," he conceded, voice husky with exertion. "But I wouldn't call it defeat” he cooed as you slowly put your sword down, placing it next to you. His gaze dropped, tracing a slow path down the curve of your sweat-kissed neck, lingering on the way your shirt clung to your form. Your exposed legs shined underneath the weak sun. The air crackled with unspoken desire, the playful banter now infused with something hotter, more primal.
"Besides," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, "victors deserve their spoils, don't they?"
His words hung heavy, loaded with hidden meaning, a meaning only the two of you seemed to understand now. You felt a blush creep up your neck, surprised by the sudden shift in his usual way of being towards you. You knew he knew you flirted, that you did it with ease. But this was different. This was Luke Castellan, the stoic, the untouchable, and suddenly, he was playing your game.
"And what kind of spoils are you thinking of, big boy?" you countered, your voice barely a whisper.
Luke looked around, campers long gone, already going back to their own activities as soon as your tense situation ended.
He stepped in closer, the space between you shrinking to a charged silence. "Maybe,-" he rasped head down and still heavy breathing, "a dance with the warrior who disarmed me not just with her blade, but with her breathtaking distraction."
His eyes flickered down to your lips, the unspoken desire sparking a flame within you.
“Or maybe something a little more private, as you wish” he continued.
The world seemed to shrink to the heat emanating from your body, the intoxicating scent of wildflower and victory mingled with sweat. Your pulse quickened, a blush blooming on your cheeks.
You laughed in disbelief, smoothly placing your long hair on one side of your head, bright mane elegantly falling like a cascade without you even trying. "Bold proposition, handsome" you replied, voice barely a breath, still trying to catch it. The nickname twisted Luke’s guts, in a good way, might as well have woken up something else. "But maybe you should focus on winning a proper duel before demanding rewards"
He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. "Challenge accepted, my lady” he whispered, stepping back and raising an eyebrow. "But know this; our next battle won't be fought with steel, but with wit, charm, and a touch of something… different"
You tilted your head to the side as he took his sword from the grass. "And this time, I won't underestimate an Aphrodite's daughter, or the power of warrior who knows how to play just as dirty as she fights"
This wasn't the playful banter you were used to, but you sure liked it. This was Luke Castellan, awakened, and the thrill of it was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"We shall see, Luke" you countered, your voice husky with a newfound nervousness as you pronounced his name. "We shall see."
As you turned to address a new opponent on the field, the memory of his voice, hot and suggestive against your ear, lingered on your skin. This wasn’t what you started, this was a dance of unspoken desires fueled by sweat, steel, and the awakening of a forbidden hunger in the heart of Luke Castellan. And you, the daughter of Aphrodite, were ready to play.
He couldn't help but watch you go, his heart brimming with a newfound determination. He admired your skill, your wit, your beauty, and most of all, the way you made him feel – breathless, excited, and utterly captivated. Your golden figure disappeared into a new crowd of campers looking for someone else to fight.
This was about to be one of the best summers ever.
pt2 here <3
I’m so delulu over this man istg
Currently reading PJ 3rd book :) Had to retake my lecture after I watched the show
ALWAYS OPEN FOR REQUESTS! <3
#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#luke castellan smut#pjo series#pjo#luke castellan x you#aphrodite#luke x reader#luke castellan one shot#luke castellan fic#luke castellan imagine#pjo x reader#pjo x you#pjo smut#charlie bushnell#luke castellan x female reader#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan imagines
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baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader
nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops
word count: 5k
description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.
tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting
a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33
hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!
my masterlist ♡
my ao3 ♡
fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;
-venus ♡
Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.
And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.
You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.
It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.
No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.
Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything.
With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.
For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.
Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.
You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.
It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.
And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.
He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.
Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.
Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.
But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.
He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”
Silence. He felt like he had been shot.
“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”
His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership.
Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.
He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.
A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you.
Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration.
You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.
Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.
On his side, of course.
He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.
But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.
You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.
“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.
He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.
But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.
“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.
His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.
Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.
“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.
“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”
You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine.
“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”
Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.
You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.
He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless.
“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”
A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…
“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”
You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.
He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up.
He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.
Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.
“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.
His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”
You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.
“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…
He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”
Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.
Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.
That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.
Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”
“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”
His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.
You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.
Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.
“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”
As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.
You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.
He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take.
In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?
In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.
Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.
Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.
“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”
He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance.
After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.
You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.
Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.
Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.
You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.
“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.
Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.
You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.
You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.
“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”
Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.
“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.
Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”
And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.
His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.
“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”
Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.
It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.
#venustext#sintext#resident evil#leon kennedy#yandere!leon kennedy#dark!leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#yandere!leon kennedy x reader#dark!leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x you
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Imagine | Mine (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)
Imagine Feyd discovering that someone has dared to harm what’s his.
Word Count: 1,574
Warnings: possessive!Feyd, objectification, blood, murder, (Feyd is his own psychotic warning in himself to be honest.)
Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is not known for his mercy.
Ask anyone in the universe who has heard even a whisper of House Harkonnen, and they will warn to tread carefully when dealing with them. If you value your life, you wouldn't even get near them.
And everyone knows Feyd-Rautha is one of the best examples of Harkonnen rage and violence, second only to his uncle, the Baron.
Renowned for his physical prowess as a fighter, his insatiable lust for blood and death, and his determination to rise in power and favour, he is a force to be reckoned with.
So why would anyone dare go against him?
He finds himself asking this as he looks upon your form, head bowed and turned slightly away from him. Hiding something.
Gracefully and predatory as a panther, he approaches you slowly.
"My darling.." his voice rasps.
Normally you greet him immediately, recognizing his footfalls from down the hall. You would smile at your na-Baron and ask him how his day went if you did not spend it with him.
You are oddly subdued tonight.
His eyes, always searching, follow a drop which falls from your cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor. Instantly, he is before you, grasping your chin in his strong hand. He tilts your head up, none too gently, and examines your tear-stained face.
"What happened?" His already raspy voice is deeper, darker.
Feyd is no stranger to your tears. In fact, he often revels in their presence, trying all sorts of things to make you cry. But he hasn't done anything to illicit that response today.
When you don't offer an answer right away, his grip tightens, squishing your cheeks together.
"Speak."
His voice holds no room for disobedience. You nod your head and he releases you, stepping back slightly.
You shake slightly as you begin, "I am sorry, na-Baron."
Feyd's anger is growing. You only call him that in public or when you are disturbed.
"Do not apologize. Explain," he can't stop himself from hissing.
"I took a walk today," you begin slowly. "Just to the training grounds to see if you were there. But I didn't see you so I walked back. He stopped me and-"
"'He'?" Feyd echoes.
"Richter," you supply the name of one of the Baron's top generals. "He grabbed me and said I was a no-good whore who should've been disposed of long ago."
Anger swirls with Feyd's chest at this news. Of course, many people have said harsh and often cruel things to you. But you always kept your head high and ignored the jabs. You’re always so strong.
This is different, he can tell.
"What else? You are not one to cry over a mere insult," he brings his hand up to swipe a tear from your soft cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in its familiarity.
You inhale deeply, "He struck me without warning, na-Baron."
In his oft colourless word, all Feyd now sees is red.
"Where?" His voice is so low it's almost impossible to hear.
You shake as you lower the collar of your dress to reveal a swollen area on your shoulder, "Here."
His dark eyes flicker to yours, bidding you to continue.
You move your hand to your face and gently touch your tearstained cheek, "And here."
Feyd's hand clenches into a fist. He bends closer to examine your face, noting the slight swelling and the way you bow your head. He places his hand on the back of your head, angling your face upwards. A featherlight kiss is applied to your skin so softly you can barely feel it.
Your master and lover rises to his full height, "Rest my darling, I shall return shortly."
He turns to leave but you reach out and grab his arm. Feyd stops and turns to stare at you.
"Please, na-Baron. Don't hurt him."
He scowls at your request, "He has hurt you. Death is his reward."
"He has done nothing that you have not," you say. "I have known worse pain from your own hands.”
Feyd shakes his head and grips your arms, dragging you forward to stand with your bodies touching.
"Only I can touch what's mine. Only I can hurt you how I see fit. You take the pain only I give you." He dips his head close to your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you understand?”
"Of course, my lord na-Baron," your voice is breathy.
You are intoxicated by his closeness, the dangerous poise with which he caries himself, the possessiveness of his words and the truth of them.
"Say it."
"I'm yours alone, Feyd."
He crashes his lips onto yours, teeth clashing and lips bruising from the force of it. His hand squeezes your neck as he kisses you. When he finally parts, leaving you breathless, he takes a moment to admire you. His thumb brushes against your lips before he turns once more.
"That swine sealed his fate when he laid hands on what's mine," Feyd growls as he stalks out of the room.
He returns mere minutes later, dragging an incredibly nervous Richter behind him. With a violent shove, he pushes the frightened man to stand before you.
"I heard you disrespected my darling," Feyd points to the floor. "Kneel."
Richter obeys without hesitation. He knows how quick Feyd is to anger… and how few survive it.
"Kiss her shoe."
The man's eyes flicker to yours.
"Now," Feyd places his foot on Richter's back, forcing him down.
Shakily, he presses his lips to your shoe with a mumbled apology. It does nothing to sate Feyd-Rautha's wrath.
With practised ease, Feyd lands a harsh kick to the man's ribs. He repeats the action until the man is a sobbing mess splayed before your feet like an offering.
You regard him coldly, remembering the bite of his hand across your face.
“Please! Please forgive me, my lord!” Richter manages to sob coherent words. Spit and blood dribbles from his mouth pathetically.
“You have insulted me,” Feyd states. “Hurt what’s mine, belittled what’s mine.”
The man’s hand reaches towards your foot, as if you could spare him from the savage that is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.
Feyd crushes his hand beneath his shoe, grinding down eliciting a whimper of pain, as he steps before you and above his prey.
He is regal in his violence, eyes shining with possessive obsession.
“Dear one,” he places his hand on your arm before handing you one of his blades. “Help me.”
He smirks as you grip the knife tightly. Your eyes meet his.
Feyd knows you’d do anything he asked of you, just as he knows he’d burn the universe to ashes if you asked him too.
“Of course, my lord,” you say, kneeling by the hurt man. “If it pleases you.”
Feyd’s grin reveals blackened teeth, “You please me, dearest. Now, make him suffer for insulting me and mine.”
The first cut is shallow, uncertain as it travels down the man’s bare arm. Feyd tsks his disapproval.
You adjust your grip and slash again, quickly this time, hitting deep and pointedly. The man screams out and thrashes, but Feyd is upon him in a second. He holds Richter still as you unleash your rage upon him.
Feyd watches you draw blood with a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Relishing in your bared teeth and angry snarls, he commits this to his memory.
He halts your hand as the man ceases his thrashing. With a predatory smile, Feyd guides your hand with his, penetrating the blade deep into the man’s throat.
You watch the man loose his life, as you pant with exertion.
“You have done well, my pet,” Feyd praises, removing the knife from your hand and tossing it aside. He places his hand atop your head.
“Thank you, Feyd.”
He moves his hand down your back and presses his face into your blood stained neck, inhaling deeply. Your hands come around to grasp his shoulders, bringing him close to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, holding you like a lover would.
When he sits up, you lunge forward, capturing his lips with yours. Ignoring the blood and the dead body on the floor, you guide Feyd towards the bed, hands leaving bloody marks on his pale skin.
“Please let me repay you,” you beg, tugging at his shirt. “Allow me to repent.”
“You don’t need to repent, love. But you can keep begging.”
He allows you to disrobe him and press him down onto the soft bedding.
In all honesty, Feyd craves this battle of dominance between you. He could overpower you in an instant, yet the hold you have over him has him bending to your will.
You need only beg and he would take a knee and worship at your feet.
And you know it.
You know he craves this, needs it like an addict. He adores the pain you can lavish upon him, adores the meek demeanour you show to everyone else, adores the side of you that matches his own carnal desires tenfold, adores the way you gladly bleed for him.
He adores you.
And you worship each other in a wicked ritual of blood, sweat, and tears each night.
And he’d never let anyone take this away from him- take you away from him.
He’d kill anyone who dared try.
~~~
[A/n- thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked it :)]
#dune#dune part 2#feyd x you#feyd rautha#feyd x reader#reader insert#imagine#dune part ii#feyd rautha harkonnen#fanfic#feyd rautha Harkonnen x reader#one shot#possessive feyd rautha#feyd rautha x reader#dune x reader
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Suit Jacket
Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader
part 2 | Invitation Letter
Summary: Aaron Hotchner seems to love his suit jacket on you.
Warning: Nothing besides a few curses (I think)
A/N: not my gif, ctto! This was also sitting on my drafts for almost a year and barely proofread, so I apologize for the errors.
— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦
Sunday, March 11, 2:04 AM
"Thanks, unibrow." You grinned drunkenly, smiling at your boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, as you collapsed in the cab's backseat. His suit jacket kept you cozy and covered like a cocoon while you comfortably giggled at the applied inside joke of his new nickname.
With Penelope's constant peer pressure, your inhibition has reached rock bottom eleven shots, five cocktails, and two whiskey glasses ago. You downed liquor like water, easing your stiff shoulders.
Aaron only stared at you with the same impassive face he had and shut the door before the cold caught you. He hunched in front of the driver's window, "This woman is a federal agent, and if something happens to her, I'll hunt you down. Please, drive her home safely." He straightened back up, casually tapping the vehicle's roof.
The cab took you away only after Aaron snapped a picture of the cab's plate number. He sighed as the vehicle slowly disappeared from his line of sight. He twisted on the balls of his feet, met by his other children, agents drunkenly calling his name.
Tuesday, March 27, 10:14 AM
You scurried out of the elevator, weaving through the sea of agents in the bullpen and then to the conference room where everybody was already settled in.
"So sorry! There was this son of a b—" You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, clenching your fists. Then, you exhaled profoundly with a calm smile at the end. "I got in a car accident. Go on, Pen. Sorry for interrupting." You took a seat between Aaron and JJ.
JJ turned to you, "Are you okay?" Her hand gently landed on one of yours, giving you a worried squeeze.
You gathered a smile and raised a thumb, "Thick skull and strong bones. Nothing can break me, not even this unsub... whoa—" Your eyes widened a bit.
How ironic for your case to be about an unsub who performed a craniotomy on the victims. You smiled awkwardly, the similar tight-lipped smile that Spencer would always plaster on his face.
The other agents coughed a chuckle at your reaction while Penelope continued the debrief with the same horrified look.
Upon listening to the case details, you slowly felt colder, subtly rubbing the sides of your shoulders. You were so caught up in your anger towards the guy that rear-ended you you could've sworn your body was overheating. You left your blazer somewhere and were sure it wasn't in your wrecked car.
"Alright, wheels up in 30," Aaron announced, sending everyone to get out of their seats and grab their go bags and snapping you off your trance in the process.
You rushed to collect your file copy and headed for the door but halted when Aaron called you. You pivoted on your heels, "Yes?"
He was taking off his jacket, handing it to you as soon as it peeled off his body.
"I don't think dry cleaning your suit is part of my job description, Sir." You kidded as you stared at his black jacket.
Aaron rolled his eyes. It was so rare that you had to blink twice to ensure you didn't have a concussion from your minor car accident. "You're cold." He wasn't asking, plainly stating your slight predicament.
Your eyebrows knitted, mouth slightly opened. And as if the universe was mocking you, a sudden draft slapped you in a shiver. You snatched his jacket and mumbled a small thank you.
As you walked out of the conference room, teasing eyes bore holes into your being. Each BAU team member's narrowed brows held you captive, and their loud thoughts rang in your ears. You ignored all of it, though, taming your anxiety with the warmth of Aaron's jacket.
Wednesday, April 13, 1:37 PM
"Garcia, look for old cases with one young boy as a survivor." Aaron started, listing each task that everyone was to complete.
You were so focused on the case that your next movement caught you off guard.
Your back snapped straight from the slap of Minnesota air. It was brief. An officer merely opened and closed the door, but your body was nowhere near as warm as it was a few seconds ago.
The warmth of cotton fabric soon hugged your shoulders, along with the momentary weight of Aaron's hands, before he fully let go of his suit jacket.
He continued talking as if what he had just done was normal or anything close to casualty, "Morgan and Reid, try speaking with the victim's family one more time."
Emily exchanged looks with JJ, conversing silently while you obliviously sipped your coffee.
Friday, May 2, 5:04PM
"Capital O-M-G!" Penelope squealed, drumming on your shoulders as soon as she came close.
"Garcia, breathe," JJ gently placed her hands on Penelope's shoulders, modeling a regular breathing pattern.
Emily gave you a look as she sipped her coffee, which you returned with a shrug. Penelope was ever so eccentric. You've gotten used to it over the years you've been with the team.
"Okay, okay, okay. I'm good. Just that— I was— Ugh! Look!" Penelope shoved her phone in your face.
You saw a blinding blur, forcing out a sarcastic, "Wow! I can definitely see."
Luckily, JJ took it to herself to pull Penelope's phone away from messing up your eyesight and looked at the image plastered on the screen. A smirk immediately covered her lips, "Oh."
"What is it? Let me see—" Emily walked behind JJ. Her jaw dropped not long after. "Anything you want to tell us?" She cooed as she gave you the widest grin she had ever flashed, at least for that morning.
Your eyebrows clashed, and your forehead creased, "Whatever are you on about?"
"You're telling us nothing's happening between you and a guy?" Emily's grin only widened. You wondered how wide it could get, terrifying you in the process.
JJ flipped the phone to your end. The brightness of the screen stung your eyes a bit. "Want to explain this?"
Photo: It looked like the picture was cropped because you saw Derek's arm around you, but he was nowhere to be found in the image. Aaron's jacket was around your shoulders while he was behind you, glaring at Derek's arm.
"What about it?" The confusion was solid in your voice. However, you had a bit of an idea of what the three of them were insinuating.
Penelope stepped closer to you, "Uhuh, sure," she started as she zoomed in on the picture. "You're telling me you can't see Hotch's jacket on your shoulders, let alone Hotch glaring at my chocolate thunder?"
"He let me borrow his jacket because I was cold. Doesn't he always do that with everyone?" You innocently asked, looking at each one of them.
"Still doesn't explain him glaring at Derek." Emily chimed in a teasing tone, wiggling her eyebrows.
Your eyes widened, "You think Hotch was mad at me because I took it? He offered it to me, and I was cold. You think he was just being polite or?"
Penelope rolled her eyes and aimed her fluffy pen at you, "You oblivious profiler! He's jealous!"
"Uh-no," You chuckled.
"You don't believe me? Look at this."
Photo: This photo was older than the first one and might've been your third or fourth year with the BAU team. It seemed like all of you had just ended a case. You were snuggled on the couch on the jet. Aaron was draping his jacket over you.
"Who took that picture?" You queried.
Penelope raised her hand, "I was going to check in on everyone, then the camera spotted it, and I took a screenshot because I couldn't help myself. I was going to tease you about it but forgot for a very, very, very, very long time until I saw that picture from our last team night out." She wiggled her eyebrows, a playful smile on her lips.
"Looks like our boss has a favorite," JJ sang softly, looking at you with a knowing smile.
Emily nudged you, noticing the blush on your face. "You've gotta admit that's very sweet of Hotch. I think he likes you wearing his jacket." She teased, poking your sides.
"He does that to everyone, though," You reasoned. If you recall, he had offered his jacket to many people before.
"Nope, no!" Penelope shook her head vigorously with a tight lip. "He offers it to some but gives it to you."
"We had a case where it was biting cold outside. Hotch offered to help me if I needed a jacket. I said no because of politeness and shit, but he didn't insist. He didn't even offer his jacket. He offered to give me time to return to my room and grab my jacket." Emily grimaced, obviously still holding a grudge regarding the incident.
"I've known Hotch for years. Giving out his jacket was only for emergencies. If it's the only choice he had. We've had cases where a victim was a little too exposed, and his solution was to wrap them with the newspaper he conveniently found." JJ exclaimed, sorting the manila folders on her chest.
You gave it some thought and considered every possibility, but you shook your head. "He's just being nice because he's my boss. Plus, I'm still a bit tense around the team." You straightened yourself, fixing your top.
Emily cackled, "Getting flat-out drunk with us is definitely you still a bit tense around us."
"You know what I mean," You defended, blushing.
The three exchanged looks and shrugged. If you wanted to turn a blind eye, then it was your choice. But they had a perfect theory and tried to test it out.
Aaron was heading to the elevator as you exited the bullpen. The three of them grinned.
"Going for girls night?" Aaron quipped, raising his eyebrows.
JJ frowned, "We were, but she's feeling sick. I think the cold's getting to her." She gave you a pitiful hug.
Your eyes blew wide, jerking your head behind you where the other two stood with maniac grins. You knew what JJ was doing. It didn't take a second for you to figure it out. And as if luck was on their side, the elevator dinged.
You followed their figures as they piled in in the lift. You glared at them, but Emily focused on the man beside you.
You gazed at Aaron and were met with his jacket stretched out to you. Your mouth fell open, unable to breathe.
"It's cold outside this time of night. You'll feel worse if you don't layer up." Aaron cleared his throat, "Take it."
You reached for his jacket so slowly that he took it in himself to wrap it around your shoulders. "Thank you," Your voice quivered, hesitantly stepping inside the elevator.
He followed, standing beside you. You could feel the three devils behind you, preparing yourself for their constant teasing.
Unbeknownst to any of you, Aaron was holding his breath in the hopes that none of you would notice his blushing ears.
Monday, May 16, 8:12PM
The entire day has been a drag. Besides the unsub being disgustingly great at hiding his tracks in the safety of your local area, your stomach had been giving you the worst time of your life.
Later in the evening, in Aaron's orders, everyone was sent home to get some rest and start fresh the next day.
You were thankful. You needed to rest from all the stomach-emptying vomit you did in the restroom. Your acid reflux was having a field day and didn't let you get a breath. You practically lived in the toilet. You even had to call Derek and ask him to put you on speaker so you could contribute to finding the unsub. Luckily, they didn't question it.
Emily retracted away as she exited your hug, "Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride home? We practically live in this building. I don't think they'd mind you leaving your car here for a night."
A warm smile brightened your drained face, "Yes, I'm sure. Thanks for the offer." You bid her one last goodbye before heading to your own car.
Your head was down as the day's exhaustion finally caught up. Your senses were off. You walked as if time stopped. You wondered if you should've taken advantage of Emily's offer.
With your loud thoughts and vulnerable senses, a heart attack almost killed you when a sudden cage of warmth engulfed your body. For a moment, your body wanted to fight, but it didn't take long for you to remember the familiarity of this warmth.
"What took you so long?" His voice was gentle and comforting enough to put you to sleep immediately.
You looked up at Aaron, who refused to unwrap his arms around you, "I didn't know you were waiting. I thought you went home already. Isn't Jack waiting for you? It's movie night."
Aaron smiled, "I'm taking you to the hospital to get checked. Captain Jack's orders."
You couldn't help but smile as well. He held the door for the passenger seat before jumping to the driver's seat. As you watched him go around, you noticed his scent lingered on your shoulders.
Aaron placed his jacket on yours.
"You ought to be careful," A chuckle passed your lips, "The gals are onto you."
"Why?" Aaron looked at you with a confused expression. His face made you giggle. The genuineness of his expression made you wonder his reaction if you had said the same thing two years ago.
A grin glistened on your face, "They say Agent Hotchner has a crush on me." Your voice danced with playfulness.
Aaron copied your grin and shrugged, "I'm surprised they haven't figured it out after all these years." He turned his body to face you, "So? Do you like him back?"
If only the BAU team knew how their unit chief, the SSA Aaron Hotchner, was a lot friskier than they perceived him to be, Aaron wouldn't last a day from all the teasing.
Then you wondered how the BAU team would react if they found out you and Aaron have been dating for the past two years and successfully kept it a secret from everyone except Strauss and Rossi.
Or the number of questions you'd be bombarded with when they learn that you recently moved in together with Aaron and Jack. You knew well enough that the ladies would be interrogating you like a serial killer.
You shrugged, "I heard he's got a fiancée." You fished the necklace well hidden under your shirt. A golden ring band shaped like vines with an oval-cut blue moon diamond dangled on the chain.
"Yeah..." Aaron held your hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, "You wouldn't want to be in the way of that." He smiled widely, an ever-loving expression you indulged yourself with for the past two years and soon... for a lifetime.
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Everyone Knows It - ♥∞˚.
protective!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ˚.
Summary: Rafe will always defend you.
Warnings: descriptions of physical injury, vulgar name-calling, arguing, themes of anxiety
based on this ask!
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ೀ⋆｡˚── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
“How long does this shit take?” Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, asked as you began to apply your favorite mascara.
You looked at him, rolling your eyes playfully as he tried to stifle his own smile.
“I dunno, Rafe.” You replied with a shrug, giggling as his eyes rolled into his head out of annoyance.
“C’mon baby, we gotta go.” He said, borderline pouting from across the bathroom.
You turned away, finishing your makeup and adjusting your outfit, looking at him with a teasing smile as you walked back over. You tilted your head up, meeting him with a soft kiss as he pulled you closer.
“Not too long, hm?” You said, watching him scoff.
“Oh yeah, only two hours.” He said with a smile of his own.
Rafe dragged you to the car as you looked at him with hesitance. He had been so set on going to a huge party on figure 8 and he eventually convinced you to come with him. Initially, you were equally as excited, if not more. You’ve always loved parties, but this week had been especially stressful on the both of you, so it took some pleading from Rafe to get you up.
However, your mood quickly turned when you were talking with your best friend, Jessica, and she hesitantly told you that all three of Rafe’s ex-girlfriends would be stalking around the party.
Of course you knew that Rafe loved you and only you. He had been dating you for two years now, far longer than all three of them combined. But, you also knew that none of them had gotten over him and all of them hated your guts.
At least to him, Rafe was blissfully unaware of your concern because you didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe it wasn’t as huge of a deal as you were making it, maybe you were overthinking the whole thing. Rafe didn’t need to know about your predicament, it shouldn’t even matter.
That’s what you told yourself, at least, as you picked your fingers anxiously while Rafe drove, his clueless hand on your thigh. The drive seemed a lot shorter than normal and Rafe was just starting to pick up on your nerves as the two of you pulled into the beach parking lot.
“Hey..” He started, putting the car in park and watching your eyes as you looked at the sunset.
“Hm?” You acknowledge him briefly, hiding the shake in your voice.
“Are you like.. okay?” He asked, sucking in a breath while trying to read your eyes and taking another look at you before continuing, “You just seem a little off, y’know?”
Rafe knew how to read you like a book, but he had a strong tendency to second-guess himself. You could thank his father for that gift.
“Yeah, m’okay.” You muttered out, not wanting to concern him now, out of all times.
Rafe kissed you softly on the cheek before getting out of the car. You tried to work up the courage before Rafe opened your door, offering his hand to you. A small ‘thank you’ came from your shaky lips and he nodded in recognition.
His hands were stuffed in his pockets when he checked behind him, seeing you practically hiding in his dark shadow. You felt too aware of everything, feeling imaginary eyes on your body. One of the few things you didn’t notice was his ex, Emma, watching the two of you with a hawk’s eye.
“Baby-“ He tried to start before you saw Jessica and suddenly your nerves began to ease up.
“Jessie!” You called out, speed walking past Rafe to meet her as the two of you gushed out girly greetings.
Rafe smiled and rolled his eyes, keeping himself close to you while also lingering next to Topper and Kelce.
At some point, the last thing you were worried about was Rafe’s two-faced ex-girlfriends. The drinks were letting you ease up and Rafe trusted Jessica just enough to let you go off on your own, just a few feet into the dense crowd.
Everything was perfect, especially when your favorite song for the past month started playing. A smile spread across your face when you went to find Rafe in the crowd, a small dance in your step as you giggled to yourself.
That same smile faded as you saw one of his exes brushing up on him. You stood deathly still, astonished that he was letting this happen so openly. It was obvious that he wasn’t paying her any mind and even making an effort to step away a few times, but the fact that she was near him made your skin crawl. All confidence that you once had slowly disappeared when you looked to the right ever so slightly and made dead eye contact with his other two exes. The worst part? They had started to stalk closer to Rafe, inch by inch.
You nearly screamed out of jealousy before Jessica noticed the same thing and turned you around. You knew it was a weak attempt to distract you, but it inevitably worked as Jessica held your hand instead, spinning you on beat.
Things faded out again until one spin got a little too personal and you stopped yourself, dizzily looking over at Rafe. The girls were nowhere to be seen, which brightened your face. You started over to Rafe again, wanting to lean into him and to let him show you off like he always did. You were his girl, everyone knew that.
It wasn’t anything but a few steps in his direction before you felt a hand sweep you the other way, followed by two more. Confusion drained the happiness from your smile as you looked around, everything going too quick to fully make out any faces connected to the hands pulling you back and forth.
You tried to protest but found yourself silenced when they stopped and held you still.
“You’re a fucking whore.” Emma spat.
Emma, his first long-term ex. ‘Six months in hell’ Rafe would always say, rolling his eyes and kissing you to remember how victorious his escape was.
The two other girls, Natalee and Avery held you upright, nodding along with whatever Emma said. You rolled your eyes at their ‘yes-man’ mannerisms, which gained you a scoff from Emma.
“You stole Rafe from me. You fucking slut!” She yelled, getting closer and closer.
“Didn’t steal anyone..” You mumbled, making every reasonable attempt to back away but ultimately failing.
She scoffed. In fact, you heard all three of them scoff. You knew that they were jealous, and honestly, you would be too. Rafe broke their hearts and told them he ‘wasn’t ready for a relationship’ before skipping off to the next. All three of them assumed you to be another one of his heartbreak victims, but when you stuck for a little too long, the hatred naturally got stronger within the three.
You were lost in thought, trying to squirm away before you felt a faint sting on your cheek. You looked over at Emma and caught her just as her hand moved away from your face.
Instantly, tears poured from your eyes as you felt utterly helpless at their fists. One punch landed before another and suddenly you were being jostled around with no thoughts besides the pain coursing through your face and stomach.
Your ears were ringing by the time Rafe ran over and tore you away from their hands. You didn’t hear him yelling or pulling you away. It barely registered in your head when he picked you up and carried you from their jealous screams with a worried look on his face.
The car door slammed shut and you regained a little bit of yourself, feeling hazy in the passenger’s seat. You heard the driver’s side door open and close, watching Rafe struggling with the ignition through your slightly blurred vision.
You felt his panic hit you like a wave throughout the entire car ride, feeling him try and keep your head upright. His voice cracked and his hands shook while he fought through to keep his confident facade.
The two of you made it to Tannyhill and Rafe had barely put the car in park before he was rushing to your side. As much as he tried to seem careless and tough, you and him both knew that he couldn’t stifle his sensitivity around you.
His emotions crashed down on him while he tried to keep himself together, carrying your weakening body into the cushy living room.
“Talk to me, princess.” He whispered, laying you on the couch and pulling up your dress to look at the bruise quickly forming on your ribs.
You didn’t say anything but a groan of pain. Not because you couldn’t, but more because you didn’t have any words. Shock overtook your originally tearful face and realization set in.
For the rest of the night, Rafe held you in his arms. He didn’t let you lift a finger and made sure you were okay before calling a few ‘friends,’ as he said, to take care of the three girls.
It truthfully didn’t matter to you what happened to them. Here he was, Rafe Cameron, with his face buried in your hair and leaving soft kisses as gentle reminders that he loved you more than anyone else.
You were his girl, everyone knew that.
╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ೀ⋆｡˚── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯
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