#out like that isn't supposed to be but you're telling me you're running a f*cking gang whose drug making headquarters is underneath | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keeksandgigz · 5 months

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okay okay, but imagine an older!modern!eddie getting ticked off every time you have your phone on 'do not disturb.'

this was supposed to be a blurb but pls queens turn off your dnd this is loosely based on a true story

eddie munson x fem! reader

word count: 3k

cw: porn with a little plot, spanking with a spoon, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv (pls don't do that), use of nicknames (sweetness, sugar, baby etc), established d/s dynamic (even if there isn't much of it here), no physical description of reader, minors dni, smut below the cut!

Like, it starts off kinda funny like "Honey, c'mon I need you to return my calls if I know you're free. I needa know my girl is safe" he says, voice real sweet. You just apologize and turn it off.

Until it becomes a recurrent thing. He'll call you to ask if you still need to get picked up after class while you're out running errands. You don't see his call until after class and you hurriedly call him to come pick you up.

Or he's at the grocery store to pick up dinner for later and he's texting you to ask what he needs to get for you and you just don't answer him. You don't see his texts.

He tries to call. Voicemail.

He later gets home with whatever he was craving and just starts cooking.

"But I thought we said we were gonna do pasta, Ed? Why're you making chicken?" you ask, literally without a clue as to why dinner plans have changed.

"Well, sweetness, if you don't answer my texts or return my calls how the hell am I supposed to know what kinda pasta you wanted, huh?" he just shrugs, voice a bit hardened. You can tell it's starting to tick him off.

"Oh, shit. Sorry Ed, I don't even know where my phone is, really" you scratch your head, looking around but not really in search for your phone.

"Well, if you didn't have your DnD on you'd know where your phone is once I call or text you. It's starting to get a little frustrating, baby, can you please be a little more mindful and turn off your 'do not disturb' when you don't need it please?" you just nod sheepishly, like you've been scolded for not saying 'thank you' to a gift you didn't like.

And it does end up happening numerous times. Luckily, nothing too insane.

Sometimes he'd ask you if you wanted to call and you just sit there waiting for him to call. After ten minutes, you assume he's gone to sleep (he's a bit old after all), so you turn off your phone and tuck in for the night.

"Why didn't you pick up last night baby? I called you like six times" he asks the morning after.

"Wait, you called? I was waiting for you to call and then you didn't so I just went to bed" you explain, then clocking the issue there. Shit.

"You had your DnD on, didn't you, sweetness?" and he gets close to you. Close enough for you to hold your breath, too entranced by his big presence, filling up every bit of your vision. You feel suffocated by him.

You look down, too much to be looking at him right now, with the aura of calm and cool control that he exudes. It'd be easier for him to swallow you whole than for you to be making eye contact with him right now.

He just takes care of that promptly for you. He gingerly places two fingers under your chin, making you look at him in the eyes.

"You look at me when I talk to you. You know better, don't you baby?" and he puts on this fake pout that makes you blush all over. You imagine the butterflies at the bottom of your stomach tinging a pretty shade of pink with every domineering word that comes out of that man's mouth.

You just nod, he makes a clicking sound with his tongue and teeth, releasing you from the delicious torture of him invading your senses as he takes a step back, letting your chin go before he just goes back to what he was doing.

"Oughta punish you one of these days if you don't turn that damn DnD off" he mutters and then he's back on his computer.

The gruff words make your shaky legs stutter as you decide you cannot be standing anymore and you plop yourself on the couch.

His last straw, however, is when you're out at a club with your friends. You've had one too many drinks and you text Eddie to come pick you up. He has no idea where you are.

Yeah, baby I can pick you up. Where at? 12:34 am

Can't pick you up if you don't tell me where you are, sweetness. 12:42 am

You there? 12:50 am

Turn off your DnD PLEASE 1:00 am

I'm omw 1:03 am

And he pulls up in front of the bar you were helplessly staring out the door of. You're not drunk, just not having fun.

You run into the car, shivering from the biting November breeze.

"Had to call one of your friends to tell me where the fuck you were. Are you drunk?" he asks. Voice stern, laden with what you could only define as barbed wire. Cutting, angry, almost.

"'m not drunk." you mutter "I had, like, a shot, then I decided I wasn't having fun anymore. Didn't wanna go out in the first place" finding the creases and ridges of your hands very interesting all of a sudden.

"Trust me when I tell you you won't be having fun at home either. Fucking sick of that 'do not disturb' thing on. You had me scared to death." he seethes, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. You notice he's wearing his pyjamas.

Fuck. You made him get out of bed. You shrink in your seat.

"Y'don't wanna be disturbed? I'll fuckin' teach you about being disturbed" and that's the last thing he says before he just speeds home.

There's thick tension between the two of you when he opens the door to his apartment. You sit on his counter, looking at the floor and getting ready for another scolding.

He's leaning on the wall opposite to you, arms crossed.

He breaks the silence "Floor's lookin' clean? You gonna look at me now?" you shiver, then look up to meet his darkened eyes.

He scoffs and takes a few paces towards you, until he's placed between your parted legs.

"What do I gotta do with you, huh? Do I gotta start checkin' your phone to make sure that damn thing is turned off? As far as I'm concerned after your classes you shouldn't have it on at all" he remarks, his hands caressing over the nylon of your tights, toying with the fabric of your dress.

You interject "I just forget, Ed. I'm so busy these days I forget to turn it off" you jut out your bottom lip, trying to coax a bit of sweet sympathy out of him. Something that'll make the punishment a bit lighter.

But he remains unmoved, his lips in a straight line as he moves his hands up, up, up to firmly hold your waist. "So forgetful, aren't you, baby? Maybe you need a reminder, carve some space in that big, busy brain of yours to remember to turn your DnD off, hm?" he chides, playing with the insides of your arm, skin sensitive and waiting as his thick finger moves up and down and you can't help but nod.

Your breath begins to pick up ever so slightly. But he notices, of course he notices. The way your mouth parts and your pupils dilate. The way your chest begins to get closer to him, rising and falling in anticipation.

"So pretty" he teases, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. You lean into the warmth of his palm, letting out a sweet humming sound that makes Eddie's stomach flip despite his hardened facade "Y'wanna play?"

His voice goes to a deep, dark timbre, the question making you shiver. You speak for the first time in what seems like forever.

"Yes, sir" voice thin and quiet as you keep looking at him, not wanting to worsen your precarious position as he undoes the zipper of the short dress you're wearing, helping him out by taking your arms out of the thin sleeves.

"Good girl," he remarks, tapping the sides of your thighs to make you lift your hips, removing the dress off of you completely.

He licks his lips when he finds you're wearing tights. He loves spanking you with the nylon barrier between his hand and the soft skin of your ass. A weird quirk of his.

You feel the hardened pressure of his bulge against the inside of your thigh as his body turns to litter a trail of kisses over your jawline and you keen into his touch, arch towards his chest demanding more, more, more. Even if you're in no position to demand anything.

A whine escapes you as you keep arching your hips towards him. Eddie's quick to stop you with a strong hand pinning you down against the marble of the counter. He tuts.

"Don't be greedy. Hop off and bend over" he commands, and who are you to say no to him as you comply with a meek "Yes, sir," resting your elbows on the cold counter.

His nose skims the length of your spine, taking in the way you smell. Sweet and musky, after a night of dancing among sweaty bodies. The thought intrudes Eddie's head. Did a body press itself against you? Is the scent of a random man now on the skin of your back, the fabric of your dress?

He shakes the thought away as he reaches the waistband of your black nylon tights.

"Pass me that wooden spoon, will you, sugar?" he says sweetly, snaking a hand in your hair. You shiver as you reach for the wooden utensil in the metal bucket next to the stove. You pass it to him, skin pricking up from the anticipation of not knowing what he might do with it.

"Thank you, baby" he kisses your shoulders, as the spoon comes into contact with your ass. Caressing up and down.

"Now, I hate to do this, you know me, but I gotta teach you a lesson, sweetness. Tell me you want this" he says, the utensil snaking its way between your legs, rubbing back and forth. A wicked smile appearing on Eddie's lips when you begin to helplessly whimper, your head lolling on its side against the marble counter.

"I- I want this" you say, loud enough to make him hear you.

And that's all he needs. A green light.

The wooden spoon lands on the meat of your ass. You hiss. The feeling is new, he hadn't spanked you with anything aside of his hand before, but the feeling of the wooden handle cracking on your skin makes your head reel.

"You gonna put your phone on DnD again?" he asks, a question he knows the answer to as he cracks down the spoon again.

"Ah- ow- No, sir. Thank you, sir" you say, sweet and compliant, hoping that it will relieve you of your penance earlier than he'd planned to.

His hand sneaks itself on the seam of your tights, knowing you never wear panties with them, feeling the heat radiating off of your core, a dampness that had been sitting there since you'd climbed in the car.

He chuckles to himself, a dark laugh, a notice that he will not go easy on you tonight.

"You're likin' this?" you can almost hear the wicked smile in his words. "You little slut, you're getting wet from this? Me smacking you with a spoon?" he taunts and your legs quiver as he administers two more cracks to your ass.

You have cotton in your ears. Your skin feels everything and nothing at the same time as you begin slumping against the counter.

"So horny you can't even stand, huh, sweetness?" Eddie smacks you again and then reaches his arm around your waist to pull you up "Little slut didn't want me to disturb her, hat true?" he asks, another smack, this time he expects an answer.

"Fuck- ow- no Eddie that's not-ah" another smack "t-true" you sob, tears beginning to well on the waterline of your eyes.

Your ass feels on fire while Eddie puts the spoon down next to your head. Your legs shaky in your heels as he kneels between your legs.

Two of his fingers hooked on the seam of your tights as he rips a hole in them, exposing you to him. You gasp, more at the suddenness of the motion than at the action itself.

Your tights never had a long enough lifespan when you wore them around Eddie.

"You got so wet, sweetness." He whispers, entranced by the way the skin glistens in the dull kitchen light.

His hands hook around your waist to keep you still as his face narrows into your pussy, and he begins to lick.

Broad stripes of his tongue, slurping and lapping up whatever he missed. Eating like a man starved.

Your back arching to get more, more, greedy in the best way possible as you mewled and cried for him to keep going. As you mewled and cried nonsense, feeling your brain turn fuzzy and your eyes becoming accustomed to going to the back of your head every time his tongue lingered long enough on your clit.

When he begins to suck harshly on it you have no choice but to grab the back of his head and push it further, if there ever was a further, as he is wedged deep between your legs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

He doesn't like it, though, the way you grab and push at his head like you're the one calling the shots.

He unhooks his arms from your waist momentarily to reach for your wrists to pin them behind your back, that's when he stands from his place in between your legs.

"Y'think you're a big girl, huh? Callin' the shots?" he lands a smack on your ass, turning you around to finally face him. Hands still pinned behind you as he pushes you towards him.

"I didn't- I don't-" you try and justify yourself, but he just delivers a smack to your face. Light enough to give you a slight sting.

His chin glistens with your slick, and you can smell it on him.

"Look what you did" he says, taunting you. His free hand comes to squeeze your cheeks, making you look at him.

"Clean me up, since you wanna be so fuckin' messy" and he squeezes harder, your tongue jutting out to lick at the clear wetness on his face, slight stubble scratching your tongue and chin. You lick around his mouth, under his nose, until he pushes you away from him.

"Greedy, greedy" he chants, as he places you on top of the counter, cold marble a relief against your aching ass.

You could clearly see the outline of his cock against his sweats, you bite your lip as he inches closer to you. “Look how hard you made me, baby," he mutters, low and dark "it’s impossible to be in your presence when you look like you want to get fucked all the time." he continues "Goin' out in that tight little dress like you don't want everyone to see your pretty tits" he says, grabbing a handful through the bralette you're wearing.

He moves the cups to the side as he toys with your tits, a hand reaching into your mouth to wet his fingers. You gag and sputter around his digits.

"Theeere you go, sweetness. Y'like having your mouth full?" he asks, Hardened stare urging you to answer. You nod and let out a weak hum in approval as his fingers keep pushing in and out of your mouth.

He removes his fingers from your mouth as he begins circling the sensitive buds of your nipples. You let out a desperate moan.

"So sensitive, aren't you? You wanna cum like that while I fuck you?" he asks, and you can't find the words fast enough to nod your head yes.

"Ask me nicely. You know better" he says sternly as he uses one hand to lower the waistband of his sweats, letting his cock spring free.

"F-fuck, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me, sir" is all you can muster, before he guides his cock to your entrance, sinking in all the way to the hilt. A gasp escapes you. It never gets old.

"That's a good girl. Wasn't so hard, was it?" he teases, both his hands returning to deliver their ministrations on your tits, thumb unforgivingly grazing your nipples. The motion makes you scream as Eddie sets a quick pace.

"That's right, sweetness, keep singin' for me. Lemme hear that pretty voice" he says, his words making you clench around him.

His hands come off your tits to place your legs on your shoulders, making you curl in on yourself as he leaned his body to make your faces touch.

"Kiss me, baby" and you kiss him with such fervor and need. He hadn't kissed you the whole night. You don't know how much you need him to kiss you until you do and it's like fireworks are going off behind your hooded lids.

His tongue slips past your lips as he keeps thrusting, unforgivingly, hitting your g- spot every. single. time. You whine into his mouth, he chuckles at how needy you sound.

"My baby just needed a good fuck to remember to not put her DnD on, didn't you?" he taunts, an especially harsh thrust follows as you feel his breathing become more ragged and his pace begin to stutter.

"Feels good, huh? Shit, baby you're so tight" he begins and you can't help but moan.

"Feels good Eddie- huh- so... so deep" you hiccup, and you feel close. "Hmm so ah big" you groan as your eyes roll to the back of your head when a particularly well- angled thrust deliciously hits your spongy walls.

"You like that, sweetheart? God- fuck- so gorgeous, baby. Look at you" he rambles. He's getting close.

"Oh fuck, Ed, 'mclosesoclose" you cry out and you're seriously teetering on the edge of orgasm. A few more thrusts and you'd be gone.

"Me too, sweetness, c'mon cum for me" he thrusts a couple more times and the coil snaps. You're clenching and whining and screaming his name while he follows after you, finishing inside you.

He stays there even after he's done, laying his head on your sweaty chest while you both try to stabilize your breathing.

"Feel free to disturb me whenever you want" you say, and he chuckles, giving a soft kiss to your shoulder.

taglist: honey-flustered, fracturedarkness, them-cute-boys, ancientcrone-blog, eveybitch, everythingtodayisthoroughly, jennathinker, @vampysstuff, rubyirene, floriscus, mrsmarch64, fairymunson, capricornrisingsstuff, sole-screws, helloweenfiend, flaminggarbagepail, @squigglebottom, @cozmiccass

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x reader fluff #stranger things fan fiction #older!eddie #older!eddie munson

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lovelyhan · 8 months

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— 505 ⟢

i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck; or i did, last time i checked.

★ FEATURING; joshua x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.4k words

★ TAGS; coworkers au, friends with benefits, typical gentleman in the streets sexual deviant in the sheets joshua, a hint of pining if you squint, slight angst?, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; this specific picture of shua is years old but it incited the most visceral reaction out of me anyway so here we are with another short oneshot that sidetracked me from the monster that i'm SUPPOSED to be writing :| this also turned out a bit more emotional(?) than i originally intended, so heads up on that i guess

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), choking, slight dumbification (i'm sorry, i normally have more dignity than this but i miss him so so dearly)

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti-red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin

★ JOSHUA TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @lunaryoongie

Joshua arrives five minutes after the first clap of thunder and ten minutes after the rain started pouring outside.

You hear him before you see him. The automatic lock of the hotel room turns as he scans the spare keycard from outside — one that you made sure to leave with the receptionist in the lobby when he told you he'll be running a little late. When the door swings open, light spills from outside and he greets you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter.

It's the same look that makes your female coworkers swoon and giggle to themselves in the office pantry — talk about Joshua's adorable eye smile never straying too far from your ears.

If they knew what kind of person he was past the usual pleasantries, would they still engage in that kind of fanfare?

Joshua is soaked all over when he enters, having tracked rainwater all over the carpeted hallway and into the floor of Room 505. He doesn't seem all too fazed by it though — quickly shrugging off his coat before hanging it behind the flimsy plastic hooks screwed to the back of the door. He shuts it behind him with a kick, sighing through his teeth as he loosens the coil of a sushi-patterned necktie around his collar.

You got that one for him as an exchange gift for last year's Christmas party. Joshua uses it a lot more frequently than you expected him to. In fact, he always wears it during casual Fridays. You're not sure if he actually likes the stupid necktie or he's just trying to get a reaction out of you, but his choice to wear it isn't lost on you either way.

"Team dinners are really something else," Joshua chuckles as he tosses the flimsy material atop the complimentary dining table. He cards his fingers through his damp hair and you try not to think of how good he looks as he does it.

"You should've come with us. It's not often that you see Manager Yoon convince Jihoon to down a shot of soju. Oh, Seungkwan also got his ass handed to him at karaoke with the girls from sales. I had no idea Jihyo could hold her high notes like she means business."

You don't take a bite at his feeble attempt at small talk. He knows damn well why you don't show up to any of Jeonghan's team dinners, but you tell yourself that Joshua's just being polite — still thinking of the outcast of the marketing department despite the fact that you do not want anything to do with the people you work with.

...Although there are some exceptions here and there.

"Really? You're just going to give me the silent treatment all night?" Joshua sighs dramatically as he unbuttons his dress shirt — baring his rain-beaded chest to your unwitting gaze. "Well, if you need a bit more time, I'll go hop in the shower first. You're free to join me if you'd like."

He knows you won't, so you find it strange that he offers each and every time anyway.

You let your gaze wander to the full length mirror attached to the cabinets once the door to the bathroom clicks shut. There's nothing remotely special about your getup tonight. You're still donned in your work clothes — brick gray pencil skirt with a brick gray blazer to match. Apart from the heels sitting on the rack near the door, you're pretty much still in uniform.

You had half the mind to go home and change when Joshua said he's going to dinner and karaoke with your boss and some other colleagues, but that would mean you actually cared about what you looked like in front of him.

Which, for the record, you don't.

You can hear Joshua singing a familiar song in the bathroom — one that he always belts out in the most annoying way possible every time he showers. You wonder if he even knows any other song apart from that, but tell yourself you don't really have any business asking.

As the near-silence persists, however, your thoughts start to wander. Did he also sing this song when he was at karaoke earlier? Did he get to duet the high notes with Jihyo? You wouldn't put it past either of them to do so — being two of the company's renowned social butterflies.

That train of thought brings forth the same question you've been asking ever since the first night you shared this hotel room with Joshua and found him still lying beside you in the morning:

Why'd he choose you?

You're an in by nine and out by five unless there's paid overtime kind of employee. You never bothered establishing any worthwhile friendships in the workspace because you know better than to trust the backstabbing fiends in the corporate ladder. You're perfectly aware of what other people say about your individualistic behavior — how you're the worst team player in your department — but you never really cared.

Not until Joshua Hong inserted himself into your life.

To put it in the easiest way possible, he's the epitome of a perfect coworker. He's the guy that greets you every morning with an charming smile. The guy who drops by your cubicle to give you a coffee he made himself before saying you're doing a great job with that report you're putting together. The guy that everyone just adores simply because he's always been likable from the get-go.

That's the kind of person Joshua is — the exact opposite of you. Surely the jury won't condemn you for always questioning how you wound up spending your Friday nights fucking the man your entire department is basically in love with when you're so unlovable yourself.

Every time you try to recall how your transactional relationship with the company's unofficial sweetheart happened in the first place, your brain simply refuses to cooperate — memories muddled by a few pints of beer too many and an eye-crinkling smile that you're better off not rationalizing.

Besides, it's not like Joshua kisses and tells. Whatever happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505, and that's one of the many reasons why you haven't deigned to walk away from the setup altogether.

You meet up, he makes you feel good — makes you feel wanted — he cycles through whatever aftercare you might need, you fall a little more in love with him, then you both decide if you want to sleep in for a couple more hours or —

Wait.

Did you just admit you're in love with him?

"Hm? Didn't think you'd actually hop in with me today."

Joshua's voice is clearly laced with amusement as you shut the door to the bathroom — cheeks hot with both the steam billowing from the shower and the embarrassment cloying in your chest. You had the foresight to take off your uniform at least, leaving you in an unassuming set of cotton underwear that makes Joshua lick his lips with anticipation.

You make a show of stripping the rest of your clothing before him — nothing but the glass door to the shower separating the both of you. It's nothing sensual, nothing grandiose. You simply take off everything that's keeping your body hidden from your nighttime lover's hungry eyes.

When you step into the warm drizzle of the showerhead, Joshua hums before reaching for a bottle of shampoo — squeezing just the right amount into his palm as he lathers the product into your scalp.

The gentleness weighted into his actions startles you a little — not having expected him to do something so...domestic. You came in here with the full intention of getting fucked against the bathroom wall, but the way he massages your scalp so tenderly makes you reconsider your course of action.

But no matter how much of a gentleman he acts around you, not even Joshua can do anything about his own body's physiological reactions.

You feel the length of his cock nestled against your ass, hips rocking back and forth as he stimulates himself into full hardness. A soft moan tumbles out of your lips when he squeezes some of the hotel-provided body wash all over your chest — large hands lathering the soap across your body all while paying special attention to your tits.

"You finally snapped out of it, sweetheart?" Joshua sighs before latching his mouth onto the thrum of your pulse, biting down for only a moment to get your attention. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?"

The way he murmurs those last few words along the column of your throat makes your legs feel like they'll disintegrate at any moment. Joshua continues to murmur sweet nothings into your ear, helping you clean up properly first before actually trying anything.

You're not sure if you should be pissed off or endeared by his stalling, but by the time he's finally rinsed out all the suds from your heated bodies, you're more or less ripe for the taking.

"Brace your palms against the wall, pretty girl. Yeah, just like that." Joshua chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to your nape, lips traveling down the length of your spine until he's eye-level with your sopping cunt.

"God, I'll never get tired of looking at this pretty pussy. Been thinking about sinking my cock into you all fucking week," he practically growls. "You really knew what you were doing with that cute maroon skirt you wore the other day, weren't you? The one that kept riding up your thighs when you reached for something from the high shelves? Little fucking minx."

You mewl helplessly when you feel Joshua's tongue prodding your soaked folds — forcing you to press your cheek against the cold tile as he massages your ass gingerly.

Joshua does his best to keep you anchored, making sure you won't accidentally slip as he laves at the slick between your thighs. He has no problem doing just that — driving you to near insanity with how his tongue sucks and slurps at your cunt like it's the first meal he's had in days.

"S-Shua," you whimper pathetically, pushing your ass out for more friction. "You're eating me so good..."

Had you not been so quickly drowned in this haze of arousal, you would've exercised more restraint. Joshua normally has a hard time getting you to be more vocal whenever he makes you feel good, but you suppose that there's just something in the air tonight that makes it so easy to just surrender yourself to him.

You can feel the vibrations of his laughter along the millions of nerve endings on your clit as he traces it with the tip of his tongue — further incapacitating you from coherent thought. When he slips in a finger into your awaiting heat, you all but gasp into the steamy air of the hotel bathroom.

"You're so cute when you start calling me that," he coos without halting his ministrations — that sinful tongue darting out to tease and lick and stimulate as he eases in another thick finger into your gummy walls. "Wanna eat you out underneath your desk someday... Would you act as cute as you're acting right now if I did that?"

The prospect of having sweet, gentlemanly Joshua Hong on his knees for you under your work desk makes you tighten conspicuously around his fingers. From the sordid chuckle that leaves his lips, you're fairly certain that he's noticed.

"You like that, huh? You like it when I put my mouth on you? Make you feel so good, you forget about everything else?" he chuckles darkly, rising back to his full height without taking his fingers out of your needy cunt. "But we both know this is hardly enough for you, right sweetheart?"

You hate how he knows you so well.

Joshua spends about one minute max towel drying both of your bodies before he quite literally sweeps you off your feet. You let out a surprised shriek as he princess-carries you onto the bed — gently laying you on the undisturbed sheets before crawling on top of you like a predator circling its next meal.

"Wanna tell me why you were so out of it earlier?" Joshua murmurs as he nips at your jaw, the words followed by a crackle of thunder in the distance. He chuckles when you jolt in surprise before peppering your face with a collection of kisses that ends at the tip of your nose. "It's not the weather, is it? I remember that I literally fucked you in the middle of a storm last month."

"Quit running your mouth and just fuck me," you mumble, lacing your fingers around his nape before grinding up against his leaking cock. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Ahhh," he drawls with resounding epiphany, as if he'd just figured out some ancient secret. "So you were sulking because I took too long to get here? Don't worry, sweet thing, it won't happen again."

When Joshua leans close to your ear, his hot breath fans against your flesh — making your toes curl with quiet anticipation.

"The next time we meet in this room, I'll have you mounted on my cock the moment you come through the door."

Joshua doesn't bother with foreplay or any sort of preamble. He simply guides his cock into the give of your entrance, sinking his length so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," you whimper, fingernails seeking purchase across the rippling muscles of Joshua's back. He doesn't quite move yet — letting you get used to the stretch like he always does.

"Pretty pussy's so fucking tight around me," he groans. "Did you need me this badly? 'm sorry for making you wait so long, sweetheart. If I had known, I would've ditched karaoke and made you feel good as soon as I could."

Empty words uttered in the throes of passion — you're well aware that's all they are. Yet Joshua has no trouble making your heart flutter with the sentiment anyway.

"J-Joshua," you manage to gasp as you feel his girth throb inside you. "Please move... Need it. Need it so bad, please."

You're on the brink of tears with how desperate you are for mind-numbing release, but amidst your mounting delirium, Joshua sighs a little too endearingly before pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

He eases himself into you slowly at first — making sure you feel every ridge of his cock dragging along your tight walls. Joshua particularly feels smug when your eyes roll to the back of your head, addicted to the way his cock is splitting you open.

It's only when you start to loosen up that he picks up the pace, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. The squelch of your arousal echoes within the walls secluding you from the rest of the world.

When Joshua hoists your hips higher before hooking the back of your knees across his shoulders, you knew it was all over for you.

Admittedly, you don't remember the first time you've had sex with him anymore. Or the second. Or the third. You've had each other so many times in so many ways that every instance kind of just blends into the next — painting a messy caricature of all the illicit meetings you've had with your nighttime lover.

But you don't care if it's messy. You don't care if it's strange. At the end of the day, you're comforted by the fact that all these experiences you shared with him are irrevocably yours.

Even if you can't really say the same for Joshua himself.

He stirs the pot of your arousal with practiced ease. Joshua stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's laid eyes on before letting one of your legs fall back on the mattress.

Your lover trades the depth of his thrusts for enough leeway to flatten his thick fingers across your throat — making you bleat with expectation as he presses down just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He hisses when he feels your velvet walls clamp tighter around his cock, further informing him that he's on the right track.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly — his gorgeous face the only thing you can see. "You'll let me do anything to you, won't you? All I gotta do is fuck you stupid and you'll take everything I give."

At this point, you're too far gone to even deny a word he says. "Mmmm... Your cock feels too good, Shua. 'M so close already. You'll finish inside me, won't you? Make both of us feel good?"

"Dumb little princess couldn't even answer my question," Joshua chuckles before making a particularly harsh thrust that jostles you further up the mattress. "Of course I'll finish inside this pretty pussy. It's all mine, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," you mewl as Joshua's fingers tighten around your throat again, making your toes curl with unadulterated glee. "My pussy's all yours, Joshua. All fucking yours."

He chuckles again, fingers climbing up to your jaw until Joshua is able to prod his thumb against your bottom lip. You respond in earnest, suckling at the digit as he rails you into the mattress. There's no longer any room for intelligible thoughts — lost in the sea of pleasure that Joshua choose to drown you in every time you come together like this.

"Close, close, close," you practically sob, thighs winding around his hips as you bring him impossibly closer to you. "Shua, I'm gonna cum. Please, I need to cum. I need you—"

"You already have me, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly yet full of intent that you're too fucked out to notice.

"You'll always have me."

That's what does you in. That's what always does you in — his sweet words, his tender gaze.

As much as the pleasure he gives with each drive of his cock into your battered cunt sends you to cloud nine, nothing makes you fall apart harder than the thought that maybe Joshua Hong is capable of loving you back.

Because how can he stare at you with so much adoration in his eyes if he doesn't actually love you at all? How can he keep meeting you like this in secret if there's no hidden agenda behind it?

But when all's said and done, you come back to your senses. Your rose-tinted gaze fades back into the darkness of Room 505.

Joshua is still beaming at you like you're the only person that matters to him on this entire earth. But you know damn well that he'd never smile at you the same way once you're out of the four corners of this room.

That's just the way things are.

As you pick off your clothes from the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom alike, Joshua stirs from where he momentarily passed out on the mattress — bleary eyes observing your every move as his brows furrow together.

"You're leaving?" he murmurs sleepily. "But it's raining outside. We should stay until it stops at least."

Hesitating for a moment, you stare at the bundle of rumpled clothes in your arms as Joshua practically tells you to go back to bed.

You know it's for the best if you don't lay back down beside him. The distance keeps you grounded — anchored to the truth that beyond these weekly trysts you share together, you and Joshua are nothing but civil colleagues at most.

He isn't your lover. He isn't even your friend.

But a stubborn part of you believes that maybe if he breaks you apart and puts you back together again, you'll be a different person. Someone who can keep up with his outgoing lifestyle. Someone he'll have no problem showing off to his friends and fellow coworkers.

But, really, when have things ever turned up daisies when it comes to you and Joshua Hong?

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your clothes in a heap next to the sushi necktie that looks more worn out now that you're seeing it up close.

You make a mental note to buy him a few more once the Christmas sales start coming around again.

"You coming to cuddle before we sleep or what?"

Joshua stares at you sleepily and expectantly from the bed, even patting the vacant space between him for added effect. If only those girls swooning at him in the office pantry could see him now...

Too bad what happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505.

⟢ end notes: finished this at 3:05 am with zero proofreading dedicated to it <3 if you spot any mistakes, they're not really mistakes since they're all crucial contenders in the creation process <333

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #joshua smut #joshua fanfic #seventeen joshua #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #joshua hong smut #full length fic 📚#lovelyhan

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harunayuuka2060 · 2 months

Text

Professor Vargas: No. Definitely not. I would rather build her a house than have her join a dorm full of guys.

Crowley: But... That would add up to our expenses-

Professor Trein: WHICH we could easily afford, headmage.

Professor Crewel: Yes. I agree.

Sam: Look at us already have taken a liking to our little imp!

Professor Vargas: Ha! Yes! The moment I saw her, I claimed her as my daughter!

Crowley: ...

Crowley: *clears throat* Very well. Uh... While we build a house for her and her son, she could stay in the little tent I lent her-

The professors: GIVE HER A ROOM.

Crowley: ...Okay.

Crowley: I suppose the Pop Music Club would not complain if we used their club room for this purpose.

Professor Crewel: Your house will take a month to complete, so you will need to stay in this classroom for the time being.

F!MC: Thank you, professor. And I apologize for causing so much trouble.

F!MC: If there's anything I can do to pay your kindness back, please do tell me.

Toddler Riddle: Yeah. I will help too.

Professor Crewel: There's no need. I will be assigning a housewarden to help you in setting up this room.

F!MC: Th-Thank you, professor!

Professor Crewel: Don't mention it. Have a nice day, pup. *then takes his leave*

F!MC: ...

F!MC: *lets out a sigh of relief* *then smiles at her son* Isn't this great, Riddle?

Toddler Riddle: *nods* Mama doesn't need to knock on people's doors anymore.

F!MC: *hugs him close* Yes. You're right.

Kalim and Lilia: Me! ME!

The other housewardens: ...

Professor Crewel: I am actually thinking of appointing Rosehearts for this job.

Lilia: Crewel, the room they're using is the Pop Music Club's.

Kalim: Yeah! And I want to be friends with her!

Idia: Well, Kalim could definitely buy some furniture.

Lilia: Yes! And I'll buy her son toys!

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: Rosehearts, what do you think?

Riddle: I don't mind.

Azul: Are not you appointing him since the lady's son shares his name?

Professor Crewel: Yes. That's the reason.

Riddle: ...

Riddle: Thank you for accompanying me, Cater and Trey.

Trey: We want to meet the lady too.

Cater: I met her in person, and she is really nice. Though it felt like I was talking to someone older.

Trey: *chuckles* She's a mother. Of course, you would feel that way.

Riddle: Ah. We're here.

Riddle, Trey, and Cater: *noticed that the door was slightly open and decided to peek inside*

F!MC: *cuddling her son while reading him a recipe out of a cookbook*

Toddler Riddle: Mama? Do we have to follow everything in this?

F!MC: Hmm... I think we can change the shape of the eggs and carrots.

Toddler Riddle: I'll make them stars.

F!MC: Oh! That will be great, Riddle! Do you want to cook it yourself? Mama will make you mini-kitchen utensils!

Toddler Riddle: Yes, please.

Riddle, Trey, and Cater: ...

*The three decided to move steps back.*

Cater and Trey: *communicates through eye-contact*

Trey: 'Mini-kitchen utensils.'

Cater: 'Yes. And that's so adorable!'

*meanwhile*

Riddle: *his mother issues are trembling*

Riddle: Professor Crewel, I would certainly appreciate it if you would not assign me chores related to assisting the lady.

Professor Crewel: Why? Is there a problem?

Riddle: ...

Riddle: N-No...

Professor Crewel: I was hoping you would be friends with her because you are the same age and can serve as a role model for her to strive more in the future.

Professor Crewel: In any circumstance, I would delegate responsibility to another person. Do not worry.

Riddle: ...

*Back in Heartslabyul*

Trey: Riddle? What happened to you? Why did you run?

Riddle: I had a pressing task to complete.

Cater: Well, Trey? Have you seen how happy they were when we gave them the mini-kitchen utensils? 🥺

Cater: Ridz said thank you and called me "Uncle Cater".

Trey: *chuckles* Yeah. You almost squealed because of that.

Cater: By the way, Riddle? MC was looking forward to meeting you.

Riddle: Huh? Why?

Trey: She's interested to know what our Riddle is like. You know, someone her son can look up to?

Riddle: ...

Riddle: Maybe next time, Trey.

Riddle: Definitely...

Trey and Cater: ...

#twisted wonderland #twst teen!mom mc #twst toddler riddle oc #twst riddle #twst trey #twst cater #twst lilia #twst idia #twst azul #twst crowley #twst crewel #twst trein #twst vargas #twst sam

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

What would it be like to do the break bite bang chocolate trend with rooster?? Hmmmm I wonder 😏

Break, Bite, Bang - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley decide to try the viral tiktok sex chocolates, and you follow their instructions to the letter.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), dirty talk, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), afab!reader, fem!reader, handjob, thigh riding, use of aphrodisiacs, teasing, lots of messy makeouts

WC: 4.9K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Considering Bradley's sex drive is already remarkably high, you're not sure why you bought the chocolates. But the countless videos of sweaty, fucked out couples that you saw on your for you page never failed to intrigue you, and when the little box comes in the mail, you're more than ready to put it to good use.

Bradley's just returned home from a run when you slit the box open, raising a curious eyebrow as he pants, "What'd you order, babe?"

"Chocolate," You hold up the package for him to see.

He frowns, too far away to read the words on the front, "I could have bought you a hershey bar at the gas station."

"This is not a hershey bar," You grin wickedly, "Have you heard of tabs chocolate?"

"Are they that fancy ass Australian company that charges, like, $50 per bar?" Bradley takes his workout towel, swiping at the sweat over his brow.

"No," You laugh, "They put aphrodisiacs in their chocolate."

"Aphrodisiacs," Bradley hums with a furrowed brow, "Isn't that-?"

"It's sex chocolate," You reveal, "You up for a bit more exercise today?"

"Sex-ercise," Bradley rushes for you with a shit-eating grin, far too proud of his shitty joke. He's grabbing for the chocolates but you snatch them away, lips wrinkled in a grimace.

"Hey, what-?"

"Not after that." You glare at him, "That was awful."

"Oh, come on!" He laughs, tugging the box out of your hands, and scanning the cover, "Come on, have some chocolate, honey, it'll make you feel better."

"Whatever," You grumble, snatching the little foil squares from their places, "Okay, break," You snap the square in two, "Bite," You hold Bradley's portion out for him, letting him take it from your hand. His mustache prickles against your skin and you bite back a giggle, stuffing your mouth with chocolate instead.

The sweet is savory and bitter on your tongue, with just the right amount of sugar. It's primarily dark, the aphrodisiac component, and you'd buy it for the taste even if it wasn't going to make you fuck like rabbits.

You don't get to swallow the chocolate and finish their signature slogan before Bradley's wolfed down his bar, tossing the package on the table and surging for your lips, "Bang."

The kiss he drags you into nearly buckles your knees. It's intense, it's made sweeter by the chocolate coating his tongue, and his fingers dig into your waist as he tugs you close.

"Mmf- Bradley!" You gasp, dragging in a lungful of air that he'd practically stolen from you with the kiss. He's eager to touch you, to feel you, to taste you as his lips never part from your skin, dragging from your own to the spot just under your jaw that makes your stomach tingly.

"You're- Ah, you're supposed to wait for the chocolate to kick in," You pant, hands slowly, subconsciously curling into his shirt as he sucks at your neck, "We're supposed to, like, see how long we can hold off."

"No fun in that," Bradley shrugs, "I already wanted to fuck when I got home from my run."

"You-" You laugh, breath hitched when his tongue comes out to lick over the skin that his teeth had just nipped at, "You're insatiable, Brad."

"How'm I supposed to keep my hands off of you, hm?" He hums, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He sucks a patch of skin just to the left of your throat, one that makes your fist clench hard in his sweat soaked running shirt, "So fuckin' sexy, don't need a chocolate to think that."

"But- but we should wait!" You urge, wishing his hair was just the tiniest bit longer so you could tug on it to separate his lips from your neck, "Just to see how- ah!" He nips at your skin again, and a fire burns through your veins that's hard to ignore. It pulls you in, burns from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head, and makes you want to melt into his arms. But the taste of chocolate on your tongue makes you reconsider, and you wrestle yourself out of Bradley's arms.

"No," You pant, eyeing him warily as he watches you, "No, we have to see how long we can wait. Trust me, Brad, it'll make it so much better."

"I want you now," He whines, reminiscent of a kid denied a cookie before dinner. His tone helps tamp down some of the arousal that had risen briefly in your belly, and you take his hand. It's rough from work, calloused and strong. It curls around yours and you lead him to your bedroom, letting him perch on the bed while you unbutton your jean shorts.

Bradley's mouth falls open and he scoffs, "Babe! Don't tease me, how am I supposed to hold out now?"

"You'll be fine," You wave off his concerns, stripping out of your shirt next. It leaves you in a bra and panties you’d specifically chosen for their sex appeal, powder pink and lacy. They’re Bradley’s second favorite, behind only the navy blue set on the drying rack. But you’d used it last night, and you don’t want things to get boring.

“Fuck,” he huffs, flopping back onto the bed. His tanned skin is a stark contrast from the crisp, white bedsheets, only fresh and clean because you’d changed them last night. He watches as you strip yourself of the sheer chain he'd bought you three months ago, for your second anniversary, your initials and his dangling from the silver. The first night you'd had it, he'd torn it off of you during sex, and it had ruined the mood completely. One trip to the garage for some pliers had seen it back on your neck good as new, but you're not taking any chances this time.

"Good idea," He grins lazily, eyes meeting your own for only a split second before they trace your exposed body. He reaches out for your hip when you make for the bed but you jolt out of his reach, hands firmly placed on your hips.

"Bradley Bradshaw," You huff, "No touching! Not yet, you have to really wait until you can't take it anymore."

"I can't! I can't take it anymore," He insists, groaning low and raspy in his throat, "Babe, on a normal day, seeing you in that would get me going. But now you've just given me sex-drugged chocolate? How much longer am I supposed to wait?"

"As long as you can," You grin, something evil in the expression as you flop down onto your stomach beside him with a novel, "'Then we'll jump each other."

Bradley muffles another groan, this time with an arm over his face. When he removes it he reaches for the hemline of his own shirt, "Fine. But I'm stripping too, see how long you can resist me."

"Perfect," You hum, already cracking the spine to resume your place on page 235. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, even if you're having an incredibly hard time focusing on your book right now instead of looking over when you hear the zipper of his jeans.

He eases back into the mattress with yet another groan, the sound bordering on pornographic enough to stir something beneath your stomach. It's the sound he makes when you snake a hand south and squeeze at his half-hard bulge, whether it be an invitation to the bar bathroom or a suggestion after movie night. You think about the way he feels against your hand, thick and straining against his pants, and-

"You're bending that book," Bradley drawls, peering sideways at you, "Thinking about anything in particular?"

It's true, your hand is crumpling the spine and pages up like scrap paper. You quickly smooth it out, lamenting the wrinkles forever etched into the story. Maybe they'll become fond memories, depending on how explosive the sex is tonight.

'No." You grumble, refusing to glance at his sprawled out, near-naked form, "Mind your business."

“Testy,” he laughs, no doubt teasing you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking of, “Alright, babe, enjoy your book.”

Bradley sticks to the agreement and leaves you well enough alone, choosing to scroll on his phone rather than stare at you. You get into the zone of reading, but part of your mind is always on the slight buzz you feel between your thighs. It’s been there since the first kiss Bradley had trapped you in back at the table, and it hasn’t gone away since.

Your reading material isn’t helping. The characters, a soon-to-be-couple currently rivals on the swim team, are currently having a late night jacuzzi rendezvous. It's hot, steamy, and everything you want from Bradley.

You pray that he doesn't notice the clench of your thighs as you read on, trying to envision yourself in their current position. He's got her backed up against the wall of the jacuzzi, and every description of the noises he's making has you wanting to squirm in place for some sort of friction. He tilts her chin upwards with one thumb until she's looking back at him, reaches for her lips, and-

Bradley's hand smooths over the back of your thigh.

"Bradley," You warn, but he's two steps ahead of you.

"Relax, angel." He croons, the natural rasp in his voice sending heat straight south, "You just look a little tense. I was gonna give you a massage."

It's a game of chicken, a word Rooster doesn't like hearing because of the way Hangman uses it as a nickname for him. But you're not losing, so when his rough, large hands slide up your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your panties, you breathe deeply before turning back to your book.

He gives you a few moments of silence, and they're anything but comfortable. Tension is thrumming through every vein in your body, concentrated in handprint shapes wherever Bradley's palms press to your skin. He stays true to his word and massages your thighs, but his thumbs edge up the curve of your ass, closer to their target than he knows they should be.

His fingers knead and squeeze at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, paying special attention to the hypersensitive skin between your cunt and your thighs. When he ghosts his fingernail over the crease there and you clench your thighs together, he knows he's got you.

"What'cha reading?" He plays dumb, leaning over your shoulders while holding your ass steady, "Woah."

"Shut up," You huff, "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing!" He insists, with a squeeze to your ass that proves the opposite, "I'm just curious, and then I look over your shoulder and see that."

"What," You scoff, "What's so shocking to you?"

"His broad form looms over her own smaller one," Bradley reads, voice deep and raspy where he's leaning over you. His voice is just beside your ear, and you feel his breath against your skin as he continues, "-muscles in his arms on full display despite the near-scalding water lapping over them. He cages her in his embrace, no escape possible even if she wanted one. But she doesn't, not as his large, rough thumb comes down to nudge at her puffy, sensitive clit beneath the water. The fabric of her bathing suit presents a delicious friction, and her hips jolt into his hand with a shockwave of ecstasy."

He comes to an abrupt stop, satisfied that your cheeks are burning hot, and your core is probably similar. He waits for your reply, and when it comes in a shaky, ‘so what?’, he tightens his grip on your hip ever so slightly.

“You think that would feel nice?” He asks, and if he purposefully strains the muscles in his arm where he plants his hand by your head, he hopes you don’t notice. His other hand snakes beneath your front, pinned between your waist and the mattress as he finds your clit with experienced ease.

“Like this?” He thumbs at the sensitive bundle of nerves, and your hips buck like they’re scripted to, “That feels good?”

“Bradley,” You’re barely able to whimper, chocolate definitely taking its toll as your insides writhe with flames.

He takes your whine as an admission, shutting your book carelessly and nipping at your earlobe as he pulls his hands back to your hips, “Roll over.”

“Brad,” You start, but he flips you himself.

“Roll over,” He gushes, and the second your lips are in his line of sight, he’s on them. His own press enthusiastically to yours, a heavy pant released into your mouth as he braces his knees on the mattress.

“I cant fucking take it anymore,” He groans, choking out his words between kiss after kiss pressed to your mouth. His tongue is sloppy, licking up your own like he's trying to swallow it.

He's tasting chocolate on your tongue and you're tasting some on his, a sweet flavor that only reminds you of the intense burning sensation between your legs.

"Laying there," He rasps, dragging in breath after breath that he later spends sucking your lips between his own, "Ass up in those pretty panties. You know I've got a thing for your ass. Mmf- and," He breathes, hand trailing up your waist, "-your stomach. And your tits," He squeezes them through the sheer pads of your bra, "Fuckin' love your tits."

His knees are holding up up on the mattress, and he's plants one of his hands beside your head, just in the dip between your neck and shoulder. He stretches it, nudges his thumb against your jaw and prompts you to open your mouth. When you do, he leans down, capturing your lips in another steamy kiss. You're having trouble focusing on one thing at a time, what with his tongue lapping sensually at your own in smooth, eager strokes. Then his hand, fingers rough and heavy as they pinch unforgivingly at your stiff nipple beneath the fabric of your bra. When you jolt into his touch, your hips buck with the motion, and you feel the hard press of his arousal against your eager core.

Bradley hums approvingly into the kiss, parting with a sloppy trail of saliva and speaking hotly against your lips. "Needy, hm? Gonna grind your sweet pussy all over me?

"Yeah," You breathe, and without the press of his lips to yours, your head tips back, exposing your neck for Bradley to fixate on next, "I need- Oh, Bradley, I need you to fuck me! I need you to fuck me so bad!"

"I thought you wanted to wait," He goads, his mustache grating against the sensitive, thin skin of your neck, "I thought you wanted to see how long you could take it."

"I did! And I can't-" You choke on your words, the sound coming out more of a moan as he sucks harshly, wetly at the skin of your neck, "I can't take it anymore! Fuck me!"

You accentuate your words with another desperate roll of your hips, grinding your clothed cunt over Bradley's bulge. He's straining in the loose fabric of his boxers, a fact that makes your mouth water, and Bradley tears himself away from your neck to wrestle with his undergarments.

"Hang on, sweet thing," He hums, in response to a disgruntled whimper of yours. He knows you're aching, burning with desire, because he is, too. His cock bounces free of his boxers and stands hard, angled towards his stomach and oozing pre. It's the most mouth-watering sight you've ever taken in, and your tingling cunt drools a gush of slick against the fabric of your panties.

It's a struggle to get his boxers off, and it almost looks silly as he wrestles them off from around his ankles. But it keeps you waiting, lets that desire burn just a little longer in your stomach before it's extinguished, and as much as you're yearning for relief, it feels good to prolong your pleasure.

"Okay, I- oh, fuck," Bradley hisses, his thumb against the pad of your panties as his fingers slip beneath the hemline. He feels slick soak through the fabric at the slightest pressure from his single finger, reveling in just how wet you've gotten while waiting for him.

"You're- god, you're dripping," Bradley groans, the sound thick and lustful as his face screws up in concentration, "I just- I- I want to-" He gives into his urges without even explaining them, dipping down to stick his face in your cunt like a man starved. He pants into your pussy, conflicted on whether he should suck more slick out of your eager sex or take a breath. He does a healthy balance of both, if maybe a little lacking in the oxygen department. He doesn't seem to care that he's being suffocated, though, and he tucks his face further into your cunt than seems humanly possible.

His tongue writhes skillfully through you, in and out of your needy hole, against the underside of your clit, against the rarely-caressed skin between your thighs and cunt. He's a messy eater, slick smeared over the lower half of his face, even glistening in his mustache.

"Aah, baby," You gasp, face pinched in half ecstasy, half apprehension as he sucks at your clit, "No, don't- I'm gonna cum!"

"Do it," He urges, tongue licking a long, wet, slick stripe up your cunt before delving back between your folds, "I want to, mmf- feel you cum on my face, baby. Do it, give it to me, I wanna feel your cunt suck me the fuck in."

"No, but-" You reach for his face, sitting up in your pleasured haze, "I want- I want you inside of me when I cum! Please, Brad, I need your- ah! -need your dick!"

"You can have it," He promises, fingers coming to bully your puffy clit while he focuses his tongue on your sopping cunt, "Later. Cum, baby, give it to me."

He's speaking harshly, and his tongue reflects that in the sturdy, rough way that he licks you out. It's akin to the way he kisses, and you suppose he's making out with your sloppy pussy the way that he's tonguing it now. And it works, his insistence, the sting of his mustache on the most sensitive parts of your body, the ever-present pressure against your clit, you feel white hot, blinding pleasure roll over your lower half like a wave of fire.

"Ah- oh god, Bradley," You grunt, voice tapering off into a whine, "-BradleyBradleyBradleyBradley-!"

"Come on," He mumbles, lips barely able to form words around your slick-soaked cunt. He talks you through your orgasm, perhaps less gentle than a reassuring 'good, you're doing so well for me,', but arousing just the same in its gruff demand.

Bradley might be making more noise than you. While you're cumming with various whimpers, moans, groans, and everything in between, he's licking it out of you with lust-filled songs of praise. Every vibration of his vocal chords flows straight south, humming through your trembling cunt as you cum onto his tongue.

He's eager to continue even when you're finished, licking and sucking desperately at your sensitive pussy. It feels good, but you're almost too sensitive already, and you're not waiting another second for his cock.

"No, no-" You reach for his hair, using gentle handfuls of the stuff to guide his face out of your cunt, "No, Brad, I want- mmf!"

He doesn't let you tell him what you want; he doesn't have to, he already knows. He knows what you really want is between his legs, so rather than give you the breath to explain it to him, he surges forwards, knocking his lips into yours and using the momentum to lay you back down onto the mattress.

"Shit," You breathe, feeling his cock nudge at your sensitive cunt immediately, "I- Bradley, I- oh!"

He slams into you with no hesitation, hips on a mission to fuse with your own as he rams his cock into you. It's relentless, more desperate than you've ever felt him before, and you clutch at his broad shoulders as he buries his face in your shoulder.

"Holy shit!" He huffs, a grunting, groaning mess, "I- Jesus, angel, you feel so good, I can't- nngh! I can't get enough. Oh god," He pants, mouth falling open and tongue flattening against your neck, swiping up over your jaw. His mouth latches there, sucking harshly just beneath your ear at the curve of your jaw. His hips drive the same steady pace into you, filling you up impossibly deep with each pump of his cock. It's mind-numbingly hard, probably achingly painful to Bradley, and he buries it inside of you to get relief. The more he thrusts the deeper he goes, until he's slamming into your sweet spot with superhuman fervor. It's like he's chasing something, balls landing heavy against the curve of your ass as he fucks into you.

"Bradley," You moan, nails scraping against the tan, toned skin of his back, "Baby, ah-! Oh my god, keep- keep going!"

"I'm close," He grunts, voice muffled slightly in what you suspect is shame. His libido is strong, and he doesn't usually finish out this fast. But the chocolate counts for something, and he'd spent who knows how many minutes with his face buried inside your cunt with no relief down south. You're not surprised he's cumming quickly, nor are you put off by it.

In fact, you're aroused by it. The feeling of Bradley fucking into you so eagerly, so roughly, so needy; it gets you going. You feel another wave of pleasure begin lapping at your underbelly, maybe easier to rise this time because of the swell of the last one. The constant motion of Bradley's thick cock can't be doing any harm, either, and with every flex of his tongue over your neck as he sucks bruises into your skin, you feel your orgasm approaching.

Apparently, the way that your nails dig into Bradley's skin is encouragement for him, as well. Your thighs tremble from the weight of your previous orgasm, and the impending pressure of your next one, and Bradley's dick twitches like it's painful for him to keep it together.

"S'okay, Brad," You pant, scraping a hand up his back to cradle the back of his neck. He's still suckling on your neck, tongue and teeth working in tandem to mar your skin with marks, "S'okay, cum, honey. Feels so good, you- ooh, you feel so fucking good!"

Your encouragement helps, and his dick twitches again. You tug on his hair, and his thighs tense. But what really does it is the way you yank his head back with your fistful or his hair, pulling him out of your neck to kiss him and inviting him to occupy his tongue with your own instead of your throat.

The second your tongue brushes against his own, he cums. It's like a dam bursting, every ounce of arousal he'd tried holding in and prolonging bursting forth from his cockhead straight into your leaking cunt. You're already slick enough from all of your own release, but his gushes from the seam between his cock and your cunt, stretched and fucked dumb.

"Oh, oh my god," Bradley pants, the words flowing directly between your lips as he mouths at your tongue. He's desperate to do something with his mouth, he always has been, and it's no surprise that he'd taken time to appreciate your cunt earlier. He licks over your tongue, his own tucking to the inside of your cheek for a brief second before he sucks at yours again. It only makes your own arousal more intense, and before you know it, your second, possibly more intense orgasm is seizing you, tensing your muscles and spasming through you.

He cums for a long time, dick twitching and spurting cum the more he makes out with you, and the more your cunt convulses around him in your own orgasm. Your kiss is sloppy, it's messy, there's drool leaking down the corners of your mouth, and that's what makes it so effective to stretch out his orgasm. When you're both sure you couldn't cum more if you tried, he slumps over your chest, his full weight on you as he lays panting on your sweaty skin.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, voice broken and raspy with strain, "That- that was- fuck, the best sex we've ever had."

"Mm-hm," You nod lazily, enjoying a rare moment of breathing freely, "Yeah, we- we need to use those chocolates again."

"Yeah," He agrees emphatically, his mustache prickling against the skin at the slope of your breast, "I didn't think it would work. Not like that, Christ."

"I'm glad it did," You muse, and you feel Bradley shift against your thigh, his cock already half-stiff again. He grinds it into you, what you think is accidentally, but his groan lets you know it felt nice.

"Baby," You start, but he's already rubbing up against you once more, humping his hardening cock against your thigh.

"I need- I just need a little more," He almost whimpers, tightening his hold on your upper half, "Babe, I need- more, please!"

"Okay," You soothe, kissing his sweaty forehead, "Okay, here."

You reach down, hand at your side to feel for his cock. It's not hard to find, hot and heavy where he's bucking it against your thigh. You wrap your palm around the shaft, your thumb nudging up against the tip. You flatten your finger against his slit, pumping your hand up the length when it makes him jolt. He keeps his face buried in your chest, drool seeping from his lips and dripping down your breast. You feel it trickle over your nipple, sending a chill up your spine as it cools on your skin.

"Oh my god," He moans, lips desperately roving your skin until they find your nipple. He latches onto it, lips pursed and tongue relentlessly swirling over the stiffened bud. He keeps bucking his hips into your hand, though you're moving your fist to meet him. Remnants of his first orgasm and your second are slicked all up his shaft, and it's adequate lube as you stroke him towards another release.

Bradley's teeth pinch momentarily at your nipple, a sensation that makes you jolt. In doing so, you squeeze his cock slightly, your thumb pressing hard into his slit.

"Fuck!" He gasps, lips parting only to get the word out before wrapping around your nipple once more. Now that he knows what you're sensitive to at the moment he's merciless, nipping and biting and tugging at your tit with his teeth.

You're fucked out beyond belief, but Bradley's dick is practically pulsing in your grip, and the more tense his thighs get, the more restless he is on your tit.

Finally, he breaks away with a breath, "Wait! Wait, I wanna cum on your- in your mouth, babe."

"Okay." You pant, instantly on board, "Here, sit up, and I'll-"

You make to do the same, trying to struggle off of the pillow to prop yourself up against the headboard. But he holds you down with one strong hand, straddling your face instead. His cock hangs thick and heavy between his thighs, an easy reach for you. All you have to do is stick your tongue out and you can lick over half of it, something that makes him buck forwards into your mouth.

You gag slightly as the tip of his cock hits your throat, and he lets out a strangled grunt that tries turning into a whimper at the end. It's a flattering sound, encouraging you to wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down as best you can while laying down.

it takes only a few sloppy strokes to the base of his cock and a gentle massage to his balls to get him to cum a second time, and you wish you had more time to appreciate the way his thick, toned thighs frame your head. They're nearly suffocating you, tan hunks of flesh and muscle, and want to bite them. You refrain, focusing on tonguing the slit of his cock so that he cums into your mouth.

"Holy shit!" He breathes, tone incredulous as he fucks down your throat, "Yeah, yeah- oh my god, babe, keep sucking, mmf- yeah!"

His cum spurts warm and plentiful over your tongue, something you're grateful for even if you almost choke on it. He pulls himself out of you to give you room to swallow, stroking himself through his orgasm, and he doesn't comment on the weak cough you give when struggling to swallow the cum pooling in your mouth. A drop lands on your lower lip, and you're eager to lick it away once you've finished your mouthful.

Bradley's looming over you now, breathing heavy and still straddling your face. You can't help but turn your head to kiss at his thigh, nipping softly at the muscle there and eliciting a gentle yelp from him.

"Easy," He laughs breathlessly, stroking your cheek, "I can't take any more. Jesus, I'm- I'm fucked out, babe."

"Me too," You agree, breathing equally heavily, "Brad, gimme my phone, I wanna do the- the trend thing."

He might not understand, but he complies. He dismounts from the mattress, thighs sadly no longer caging your head between them, and hands you your phone that's charging on the nightstand.

You cover yourself with the bedsheets while Bradley slips his boxers back on, and he comes when you beckon him to get in frame of the camera beside you. You're both the picture of fucked out, sweaty, panting, swollen lips and glazed-over eyes. You hit record, voice raspy when you speak: "Those chocolate things, they- they work good."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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asimpforthe80s · 10 days

Text

You're getting railed when we come home..

Starring: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, use of vibrating dildo, Eddie being angry

- - - - - - - - - ♡

You're in the passenger seat of Eddies car, casually scrolling through your phone when Eddie snatches it away from you and throws it in the backseat. Your eyes widen in shock. "What the hell?!" You ask him. "Don't 'what the hell' me." He spat, giving you a swift glance then refocused on the road. "What was that?" He asked. "What? You say. "At the restaurant." He snapped. "I saw the way you two looked at each other, I'm not an idiot, okay? That's Steve, for fucks sake." You slump in your seat, uninterested in the conversation.

Your boyfriend was way too overprotective. "Y/N, I'll flip this fucking car upside down and kill us both, sit up properly." He demanded. "No." You spat, crossing your arms. Without hesitation, Eddie increased the speed on the highway. You watch as he races other drivers. He was a reckless driver. "Slow down." You request. "Sit up." He answered. You curse beneath your breath, swallow your pride, and sit up properly. "Happy?" You said. Slowly, he drives back to the normal speed limit. "You're getting railed when we get home." He muttered.

As Eddie parks the car, you run up to the doorway, unlock the door, and run up to your room, locking the door. Relieved, you sit on the edge of your bed when you hear the doorknob rattle and unlock. Eddie enters the room and pins you to your bed. "Awww~ don't think that I forgot my promise, princess." You look away, and he forces you to look back at him. His face is inches away from yours.

He picks you up and throws you onto the bed. "Don't move," he says. "Or what?" You reply. "I'm pretty sure you know damn well what would happen." Embarrassed, your face turns into a burning red. "Now, don't move," Eddie says. You obey and don't move as Eddie rummaged around the house for some 'tools'. He comes back with some rope and a vibrating dildo. He tells you to get changed and hands you a bag from Victoria's secret. When you come back, Eddie ties your ankles and wrists so you can't move, and shoves the dildo into your weeping cunt. "If you make a single sound, I'll make this much worse." He threatens. He grabs the remote and turns the vibrating part of the dildo on max speed. Tears sting in the corner of your eyes as you try not to make a sound. But you can't go any longer as your voice let's out a small whimper.

Eddie hears your whimper and turns off the vibrator, roughly taking the dildo out of your pussy. "Aww, princess~ looks like I have to punish you now." You shake your head and let out a whimpers of protest, but he covers your mouth and unties your wrists and ankles. He undresses himself and pins you to the bed once more. Nervous, you look away. Eddie chuckles and shoves his fat cock into your cunt with a squelch. You begin to moan, making Eddie speed up his thrusts. As he goes faster your moans get louder. He pulls out as he remembers that this is supposed to be a punishment and you say, "please, baby~ keep going.."

Eddie replies, "My name isn't baby or Eddie. Try again."

"My love?" You try.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

With a reddened face, you answer, "daddy..?"

He smirks, "Good job, baby." He replies seductivley. "Pick a number from one to ten." He says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Uhn.. five..?" You say, sounding uncertain. "Ohoh, you're in for a treat, darling." He chuckles and shoves five fingers into your waiting cunt. You tried to squirm away as he swirled them around. He took his fingers out, wiping them off on your clit. Almost immediately, you cum. Embarrassed, you whisper, "da- daddy, I'm cumming~" Eddie smirks once more and replies. "Perfect. Get on your hands and knees, darling." He went over to the bedside drawer as you got into position.

He grabs a pair of handcuffs and cuffs you. He started licking your cum off of your thighs, slowly working himself up to your cunt. Starting to moan uncontrollably, you warn him that you're gonna cum again. His thumb finds your clit as his tongue starts thrusting in and out of your entrance. As you got down from your high, he orders you to sir in front of your desk chair as he sits down. You obey and position yourself in between his thighs. Eddie cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his cock and you immediately start sucking him off. Eddie grabs a small chunk of your hair, stilling your motions as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, soon pushing as deep down as he can, cumming in long, white ropes. Exhausted, you swallow his cum, and he gently guides you back to your bed, taking off the handcuffs. You lie down and hug the pillow close. Eddie sighs and gets in with you, making you let go of the pillow and snuggle up to him instead.

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beary-rambles · 11 days

Text

Shots

summary: you’ve been best friends with jacaerys since you were children but due to his recent girlfriend you two have barely spent anytime together. You two are forced back into the same space when you attend cregan starks party and tensions rise

r.q: Nothing specific but please give more modern jace w smut. Your work is so gooddd 😩

w.c: 2k

c.w: porn with a little plot, a little angst, modern!college!cregan, modern!college!jace x reader, cregan the miracle worker, oral (f!receiving), protected sex (WRAP IT UP!), not proofread

a.n: i have a couple requests im supposed to get done before this but when i saw this in my inbox it wouldn't leave my mind 😭 love you guys hope you enjoy 🫶

masterlist

You didnt want to come to this party tonight but cregan had practically begged you to come.

‘i dont know cregan.’ you had told him while walking out of your shared lab class. ‘oh come on itll be fun,’ he pauses and thinks for a moment before having a devious grin on his face. ‘if youre worried about it i promise you wont see jace. he said hes busy’ you eye him and he swears hes not lying so you shrug and tell him sure you’ll be there leading him to hug you before running off.

its not like you hated jacaerys, you couldnt the two of you are best friends. Well you're currently unsure of how the two of you stand, his current girlfriend seemed so determined to be rid of you and you didn't want to get in the way you backed off not wanting her to feel uncomfortable but its since left you feeling strange.

You should feel happy for him, he's found someone he seems to like but instead you’re left with a sharpness in your chest anytime you think about him and someone else. You like him. No maybe you love him but he clearly doesn't seem to like you like that so you can never tell him that. You're happy he isn't at this party and is busy doing whatever he’s doing. You decided you need to take your mind off him, you can keep yourself stuck in your head over this and you certainly cant be crushing on a taken man.

Now youre stuck talking with this guy, something Lannister you don't even know his name, but he seems more than eager to be talking with you and for that a part of you is grateful you didn’t have to work to hard to get a guys attention.

“Wheres the bathroom?” “Ill take you to one.” He grabs your hand harshly and begins to lead you to the staircase. You tug at the hand hes stuck holding and attempt to get him to let go telling him you dont need him to hold you. He says something about it just being quicker and you should just follow him. This rings alarms in your head and now your gripping the rail and forcefully trying to get out of his grip. “get the fuck off me!” “just shut the fuck up and come with me.”

“What the fuck do you think your doing man?” Your eyes widen in shock at his voice as the lannister scoffs at him, “just trying to take the lady to the restroom velaryon.” “she doesn't wanna go with you man let her go. and theres not a bathroom up there.” He walks up to the other guy and shoves him back his hand lets go of yours and with your new freedom and you quickly put a distance between you two. The lannister mumbles some shit under his breath and ends up walking upstairs alone, “she isnt even worth it.”

“are you okay?” jace quickly rushes back over to you and grabs your hand check it looking at you alarmed. “im okay thank you jace.” He lets out a sigh of relief and takes a step back running a hand through his hair. You just stare at him and your heart races, god hes so hot wearing just a pair of shorts and an open white button up with his whole chest out, the necklace you had given him for his birthday a couple years ago sits nicely on his chest, his hair is wet and even so is his chest leading you to realize he had been out in the pool. He was at this fucking party. Cregan that fucking asshole. “i thought you weren't coming.”

He tilts his head at you and shakes his head, “who told you that?” “Cregan.” He hums and turns away for a second mumbling some stuff under his breath you swear you hear something about cregan being an ass before turning back to you. “He must have gotten the dates mixed up.” All you can do is nod and play with your fingers, its awkward. You have never felt awkward around jace so this was different, of course your own feelings have to come around and ruin everything. While you look down at your hands you dont notice that hes just staring at you with a starry eyes. “You want a drink?”

You look up at him and you feel hot finally noticing his gaze on you, “sure.” The two of you make your way to the kitchen where you walk past cregan who gives you a wink as you walk by that fucking asshole, what was he even trying to do? As you watch jace you cant help yourself, “hows… oh whats her name?” you mumble the last part under your breath unable to even remember the poor girls name. He just hums and hands you a cup, “Claire? Oh we broke up.” you gasp and look at him shocked, “oh my god im so sorry.” he smiles at you and shakes his head easily tossing the shot into his mouth. “She cheated on me, you know that guy mason,” “the guy in the photography course?” “yeah with him,” “he looks like her cousin,” “thats because he is her cousin.” you gasp in horror on of you hands flying to cover your mouth as you try not to laugh.

He laughs, and makes a fist to cover his mouth, all you can think about is how beautiful he is, “You can laugh you know its funny.” with his permission you dub over with a laugh and shake your head, “thats unbelievable.” “imagine my shock!” “Im still sorry by the way, thats really shitty.” He continues to look out in the distance as he takes other shot, “its alright love i was gonna dump her anyway.”

You take a sip from your cup and just watch him, “why? thought you liked her?” For the first time in awhile he looks over at you and you take notice of the affectionate look in his eyes as he smiled softly at you. “i realized i liked somebody else.” “Ah.” you look away and you feel him move closer to you and grab you chin to look at him. “You wanna know who?” “Jace..” Hes standing so close you can smell his cologne, his hand leaves you chin and runs down your arm. “Ive known her for a long time but i only just realized how much i love her, I’ve been a fool.”

You kiss him, reaching your hands to cup his cheeks, he deepens the kiss his hands grabbing your waist to pull you closer to him pressing you directly against him. You dont know how long youve been standing there just kissing him, when you two pull away to take a breath you can hear a get a room from someone who walks by and you remember youre just standing in some random guys kitchen and press your head into his neck. “this is so embarrassing.” he just laughs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You wanna come back to mine?” His implications are very clear to you especially as you feel his hardness pressing against you, you nod.

Not even thirty minutes later he had you laid out bare on his bed, his mouth latched onto your clit leaving you desperately clinging onto his hair as you throw your head back, “jace.” he hums as he brings one of his hands down to play with your folds as his other stays firmly on your stomach pressing you down onto the mattress.

as you get closer your hands stray from his hair and fist the newly washed sheets under you as you continue to call out his name. you've been with a couple guys in the past but none pf them compared to how jace had been making you feel, none of them made you quiver and shake when you came like he did. he mouth finally detaches from you and he sits up looking at you while licking his lips. “That good?” You slap his chest and continue to take some deep breaths, “fuck you.” “i will i promise.”

His shirt and shorts had been thrown off somewhere, probably out laying in his hallway along with your clothes. He quickly slides a condom on before climbing on top of you so his necklace is dangling in front of you. “You good?” you nod at him and he kisses down your neck and leaves kisses all over your breasts. “Need you jace.”

“you need what baby?” you groan as you feel him push his dick between you fold lightly rubbing up and down. “Please jace.” “what is it? tell me and ill do anything for you.” He looks at you expectantly and you let out a strained moan as you begin to beg him, “please fuck me jace please please.” he hums happily and quickly readjusts himself, “You only needed to ask baby.”

You feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest as he thrusts into you, as your hands grip his his back and running down it as he continues to thrust, thats definitely going to leave a mark. but based on the hiss and groans he lets out that tells you he likes it.

You swear youve never felt so good, he continues to hit the deepest and sweetest parts of you. He fucks you so fast and hard you're shocked the bed under you stays intact, he brings one of his hands down to your clit and your hands dig into his lower back and you cant help but press your head to his shoulder. “Jace fuck jace.” your mouth his muffled against his skin but he acknowledges you by bringing his lips to yours into a harsh kiss matching the thrusts of his hips. “Wanted this for so long jace.” he groans and you swear he somehow begins to move faster, “me too baby me too, now that i have you ill never let you go,” he licks at the sweat that has dripped his way to you neck and his hands move to grip your waist, “gonna fuck you everyday, i promise fuck best pussy in the world.”

You whimper at his words and your head is once against pressed against his shoulder, “im so close.” “cum for me baby please i need to feel it,” he hisses as he feels you bite into his shoulder and his eyes rolls back into head, “im right behind you fuck cum please.”

“i love you.” the words leave you easily as you cum. He cums at the sensation of you releasing, “fuck i love you.” leaving him twitching and still as he huffs and puffs, out of breath. he pulls out with a hiss and lets out an apology as he sees you wince, he climbs out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom, getting rid of his condom and coming back with a towel cleaning you and him up before climbing into bed next to you.

“fuck that was good.” the two of you laugh and you roll yourself to look at him. “did you mean it?” he hums and draws shapes on your stomach, “mean what?” “that you love me?” He looks at you with a dumbfounded look, “are you serious?” you rolls your eyes and try to turn away but he grabs you and pulls you close to him pressing your face against his chest, “of course i love you you idiot.” you smile and press a kiss on his chest before you fall asleep.

when you wake up the next morning and check you phone you see some text from cregan from last night.

‘saw you leave with jace just now 😁’

‘you’re welcome you bitch 🫶’

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dream0fschism · 1 year

Note

are your nsfw requests still open? if they are could you do one with könig and medic!reader? the rest is up to you

god i’m such a konig slut

i'm back, my darlings!

PAIRING: König x f!reader

“I’m getting tired of seeing your hooded face, König.”

He never spoke much, a thing not uncommon for men in his field of work. Many preferred the comfortable air that the silence brought, enjoyed how it was such a stark contrast to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, screaming. It made your dingy, makeshift clinic a refreshing stop for most.

But the man in front of you had made trips to your room so frequently you’d figured he must have broken some kind of record. You’d treated gunshot wounds, minor burns, patched up his bloody knuckles countless times… there wasn’t an inch of skin you hadn’t laid your fingers upon. Each time you cared for his cuts or stab wounds, some of which hash-marked atop of old and stubborn scars, it was as if you gathered more intel about his personality otherwise untold.

König was a machine, dangerously dedicated to proving his worth - dangerous for the receiving party, of course - with a willingness to sacrifice as much of his flesh and blood as it takes. If necessary, he would nurse his own injuries, albeit terribly, in favour of granting himself an advantage or winning battles. You recall a few times in which you scolded him for his amateur efforts. “If you cauterise one more wound this terribly I’m going to refuse you of future treatment.”

Of course, he’d remained silent. But you swore you saw the slight crinkle in the skin around his eyes.

And in his dedication you couldn’t help but see a deep insecurity. Sometimes, but only on the rare occasion, he would show up barely alive. He would always be alone, never needing his comrades to waste their energy and strength on carrying him to safety. But you would always worry the most in these situations, when his skin was pale and cold and he still refused to remove his hood. “Anything below here, I can take care of myself,” he’d struggled to grumble out.

If he wasn’t so unbelievably skilled, you’d assume he had a death wish.

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” he answered, the sudden sound of his accented voice gifting you with slight surprise.

“I suppose I’m running out of things to say,” you chuckle, continuing to swab at the dry blood clinging to the skin of his sternum. “And you’re just about running out of unmarked skin.”

“Mm, my gear does seem to be quite useless,” König nods. “Perhaps fighting naked wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

The harmless joke has heat creeping onto your cheeks, and you’re really baffled by your own brain because of it. As if you hadn’t seen ninety-percent of his body already.

“Perhaps not.”

"You are blushing," he notes. "Yet this isn't your first time you've rubbed at my bare skin."

The hand you had placed against him stilled momentarily as his point only intensified the bubbling heat in your face, swelling a ruby-red shade along each of your cheekbones. You continued your aid, with a strict refusal to allow your gaze anywhere else except for his wound.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," König breaks the short silence that followed.

You laugh dryly as your awkwardness fizzles away a little. "You're all finished."

König brushes a hand over the gauze, inspecting your work. When he says nothing, you stand on your feet and gather the used swabs, kicking your wheeled stool to the side to make your way to the bin.

Before the lid had even closed the trash behind it, you felt the warmth of his towering presence at your back. It startled you all the same, a sharp inhale sucking its way through your parted lips.

"I have to ask.. Do you like seeing what's beneath my gear?" He presses each of his long fingers into your shoulder as his hand cups over it.

"Isn't that question a little inappropriate..."

"If I'm crossing a line, then tell me to stop."

You open your mouth to reply, unsure of what exactly you'll say when the hand at your shoulder slowly begins to move. He's agonizingly slow, careful as he explores over the layer of your white button-up, and you feel utterly insane for being unable to use your words and put an end to it.

Instead, you stare blankly at the off-white wall in front of you and allow his hand to roam.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, edging his hand to cup below your right breast. The touch causes you to lean into the tower of his body, a sudden tenderness and sensitivity wracking each nerve in your chest.

"I enjoy coming to see you," he continues, prompted by the way you relax against him. "In fact, I refuse to see anyone else when I'm injured."

It makes you cock an eyebrow. "I thought it was strange, just how often you needed medical attention. Were you slacking out there? Hoping to get injured so you could see me?"

König huffs out a dry laugh. "No. But part of me did want to be indebted to you."

Liar.

"Why?"

"Because I needed an excuse to give you exactly what you deserve."

You swallow a dryness in your throat, the hand on your breast gives a generous squeeze as you do so. You almost choke on your own saliva.

"If that's something you want..."

"And what do I deserve?" Though you feel as though you already know the answer, you ask anyway, subsequently causing a heavy pulse at within your heat.

"I'm much better with actions than words."

"They do speak louder, I suppose..."

König takes your response as agreement, the hand at your breast moving to dig desperately beneath one of the spaces between the buttons of your shirt. He finds purchase and, in one swift pull, violently rips open the shirt, each button clicking gently as they bounce against the tiled floor.

You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him that he owes you a new shirt pronto - but König is determined to waste no time as his hands are already tugging the band of your bra down to expose your tits.

"I've wanted to see these for a long time," he breathes, and you hear the tremble in his exhale as he does so. "So perfect."

It dawns on you that you must be an obsession of his, that he may be interested in you significantly more than you are in him. It's the only viable explanation for his reckless behaviour, and yet it still didn't make sense why he would risk his life even more than he already did just to be in your presence.

"I.. hope you realise I have no other shirt to wear," you say, inhaling sharply at the sensation of his hot, calloused fingers brushing circles into the shape of each of your nipples. "How am I going to leave this room?"

König tuts as his hands cage around the mounds of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

"Who said you're going to leave this room?"

The pit in your stomach spirals into a trench, and then König is lifting you, using the leverage of your weight against him, before you can even stutter out a response. His hands guide your body along like you're no heavier than a bag of rice, a true display of his unbeatable strength that sends your mind numb - reminds you of just who you're dealing with.

A ruthless, merciless killing machine.

When König settles onto the examination table, he makes sure that you're positioned perfectly onto the tautness of his giant thighs, and you finally win against the babbling, incoherent flurry of thoughts inside your skull and speak.

"This... Surely we're violating multiple codes of conduct.. protocols... I-"

König allows you to cut yourself off, relishes in the way you hiccup at the sensation of linen on skin as deft hands begin to slide up your skirt.

"We can stop," he suggests, halting the movement of his hands but continuing to brush his fingertips back and forth, so awfully close to the insides of your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to rest just below his shoulder. Every single horny neuron inside of your brain fires at you, reminds you of just how neglected you've been sexually, what the countless hours of constant shifts have denied you for so long. And then it dawns on you.

"König, we can't. I'm not on birth control."

The man laughs. Laughs. It's the first time you've ever heard such a soft, genuine sound escape his mouth. You feel a twitch below because of it, the heat between your legs only solidifying the way his display of amusement has made your want for him so much more intense.

"Love, I'm only interested in your pleasure."

And you know better than most that a man who prefers giving rather than receiving is a rare find.

It would be a tragic waste.

When you spread your legs unconsciously, your skirt ruffles up until it can't no more and König reacts accordingly to the invitation your cunt is giving to him. But he spends too much time massaging the sensitive skin between your thighs for your liking, and you lift your hips to encourage something more.

What you get is rather unexpected, and would be a little annoying if you weren't so drunk on your own arousal. König hooks a finger under the material covering your hip bone and jerks his wrist, tearing your panties with ease before moving to finish the job at the other side.

"Please," you murmur, eyes trained on the large hand between your legs. He shushes you, with a gentleness you didn't suspect he had in him.

"Quiet now," he hums out. "Let me show you how grateful I am to you."

You feel your clit screaming for pressure, but König's fingers seem to ignore the cry as he toys with the wetness around your hole. The sensation tickles slightly, until he's pressing his middle and ring fingers inside.

Immediately, your hands fly up to brace at the arm that begins to move, long fingers filling you enough to bring a whimper from you. It feels good, but not perfect, and the man seems to read your mind as he curls his digits to rub at your sensitive, spongy spot.

"Oh, fffuck," you sigh, digging the back of your head into him with more force and following with a series of guttural groans.

"Quiet," he scolds, a slight venom in his tone. "Or I'll have to stop."

"Don't," you almost growl with a buck of your hips.

You almost forget the other hand that rests over your left breast until it starts to knead and pull at the skin, almost miss the sound of König's pants as they ooze with arousal from behind his mask.

With only the sensation of König's palm brushing against it, your clit is desperately swollen. You're willing to look the other way when you feel yourself constricting around the now three fingers pumping in and out of you.

When he speaks, his movements don't falter.

"I'm going to stop, and when I do, I want you to lay on your back on this table. Understand?"

"Yes," you obey. You're pretty much putty in his hands at this point anyway.

And so you splay out on the cold metal of the table - which your white coat does nothing to protect you from - skirt bunched up around your hips, shirt ruined and ripped open and completely exposing your chest and belly.

"Lift your legs," he commands, hand ready to hold them in place as you do as you're told.

At the end of the table he stands, lanky arms reaching over to grasp each of your ankles as he slides you along the metal until the backs of your thighs butt against his own.

You feel uncomfortably aware of how exposed you are as he spreads your legs and examines the sight before him. His eyes are cold, fierce - akin to the eyes of a hunter eyeing its prey. Your body feels as cold as the surface beneath it underneath his stare.

König releases your ankles to let your heels rest at his shoulders as his hands begin a slow trail down and along your trembling thighs. Each of his thumbs hook around your corresponding hip bones, calloused fingers cupping in place at your lower back.

His baby blues eyes are considerably darkened to a shade of grey as they flick up to meet your own, and moments later the hem of his hood is brushing gently over your swollen slit.

You've never seen his face, but you've never wanted to more than you do now. His hold on you is intoxicating in a way that staggers your cognition, robs your brain of any chance of comprehension as you can only watch him lean further forward and dip until you can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. His tongue is hot, completely saturated in his own saliva as it makes contact with your puffy clit. It snatches the breath from your lungs with violence, and when it starts to massage on and around the nerve you can only mewl and whine meekly.

König continues his watch on you the entire time, evidently enjoying the pained look that the struggle to keep quiet brings to your face.

You lift your hips into the onslaught of his mouth, and his grip around them becomes vice-like as he forces you into place and sucks harshly at your nub. This only serves to fuel your physical struggle under his pleasure more, and he grunts at your display of disobedience, lifting you higher until only your upper back and head touch the table.

The new position makes any movement too difficult for you, forces you to submit against him as he groans into the taste of your pussy. "König, I-God, I can't--" You flail your arms until they slump defeatedly back down to your sides, nails scratching at the frigid surface below you.

He manoeuvres his grip for comfort, lifting you further, until his forearms are encircling and squeezing around your waist and your calves hang over each of his shoulders.

"König, please, fuck--"

The man hums into your heat, all but abusing your clit with the vibration that follows through the sound. You're forced to slap one hand over your mouth to muffle the repetition of cries falling from it. König's lucky, his hood seems to dull his grumbles of pure satisfaction that reverberate against you. But you still hear every bit of them.

Your body spasms when you come undone against König's relentless mouth, legs jittering with a force that wobbles your entire body against his own. His hold on you helps stabilise you through the orgasm, but your hands fail to suppress the desperate, hopeless wails you release from behind them.

"That was beautiful," you barely hear him say through the ringing in your ears. "But I'm not done, Doctor."

#konig x reader #konig x you #König x reader #König x you #konig smut #König smut #konig fanfiction #König fanfiction #König call of duty #konig mw2 #König mw2 #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #könig x fem reader

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thedgeoftheuniverse · 1 year

Text

These Burdens We Carry.

Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: 4.9k

WARNINGS: swearing, typical tlou violence, way too much angst, plot that actually isn't plot i just like using words, poorly written light smut (MINORS DNI) oral, fem receiving, sprinkle of a praise kink, multiple orgasms. (please let me know if i forgot any!)

a/n: this is my first time writing any semblance of smut so i went very very light, pls be kind <3

gif is not mine!!!!!!

near death experiences have a way of bringing people together.

you're in need of a release and joel is happy to provide it for you.

Twenty-one years.

Twenty-one years and still, try as you might, you never got used to the smell—the stench—of death. The putrid odor of decay, one that could only come from the extinguishing of a life, no matter how rotten the soul was. Though you tried to convince yourself otherwise, tried to tell yourself that you had done this more times than you could count—how did it ever get to this?—and that at this point, there should've been nothing left in the world to rattle you, the stench always managed to find a way to offend your nasal passages and twist your gut in the cruelest of ways. The smell was the worst part about killing.

You would never be like him.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Then again, he seemed to carry so little weight on his shoulders, or maybe he had carried it for so long that the muscles in his shoulders had strengthened to accommodate the pressure—the weight of the world became a small child riding on his back, holding itself up with its legs locked around his waist, never growing in height or weight. It was a cruel metaphor, however, it made sense when looking at him and the way the muscles in his back rippled underneath his denim shirt and his arms seemed almost too big for the sleeves. A lifetime of carrying the weight of a galaxy and all of her stars could do that to a man.

There was something—everything—about Joel Miller that you admired. The way his graying hair gently curled at the ends, signaling it was time for a haircut; the way his eyes told you everything his mouth couldn't say aloud; the way his rough, calloused hands held you when the night was so dark and the universe caved in on your chest, leaving you completely breathless. His emotions were long shut off—carrying the weight of the galaxy does that to a man—but there were small glimpses into the man he used to be that he saved just for you. It was enough.

Most of the time.

But, that day, you needed the Joel Miller that existed twenty-one years ago, and while he was slowly beginning to find a semblance of that man again, the real Joel Miller died a long time ago. What he had found was an echo of a distant memory that had been long snuffed out, table scraps that would be fed to the dogs. You feared it wouldn't be enough for that day. You needed more, and you didn’t know if he managed to find it. If he had, he did not make a habit of showing it to you. Maybe that was a piece he saved only for himself.

That day, the horrid scent of death meant so much more. It was supposed to be a walk in the woods. You weren't supposed to run into anyone. There shouldn't have been anyone out there, and he shouldn't have been following you, and you should've paid more attention. So many variables. So many things you wish you had done differently. It was too late when you realized your mistake, when you realized that the leaves crunching and twigs snapping behind you were something to be afraid of. You had almost forgotten what fear felt like—a long-forgotten emotion buried so deeply in the recesses of your brain. You discovered the hard way that fear was the most dangerous emotion a human could feel, far more dangerous than love could ever hope to be. Fear makes you stupid, reckless, and impulsive. Love elicited the same reaction, but at least you were fighting for something rather than against something. It's so much harder to fight for yourself.

When his fist met your temple, you saw black. The world spun around your head, and a sea of stars danced in the early morning sky. You were grabbed by hands. You weren't sure where, but you were definitely thrown to the ground. You felt a small stream of blood tickle the side of your face—how did it ever get to this?—as it ran down from a cut left behind on your brow bone. You still couldn't see. Your ears rang, your senses were failing you, and he was sitting on top of your torso.

"Well, are you a pretty thing?"

Nothing about what you did to that man was pretty.

You couldn't remember how it happened. You remembered grabbing the rock; you remembered how heavy it sat in your hand as your wrist struggled to hold the weight. Everything went red after that. Maybe it was his blood obscuring your vision, or maybe it was a twisted sense of love, of duty, of "I have to get back to him" that blinded you.

Joel would never forgive you if you didn't come back home.

When you came to, the man was unrecognizable. You gained the advantage, managed to climb on top of him. His brain and fragments of his were scattered across the rock, and his head was caved in. The Infected would have been kinder to him. He didn't deserve that kindness. Your hands were shaking and stained crimson, as was your face. It felt like you were dying. Your chest was caving in—how did it ever get to this?—the trees surrounding you were uprooting, and the sky was falling down in a thousand pieces all around you. Killing up close was never a strong point for you. The smell, the blood, the emptiness of their eyes—he had no eyes left. You weren't sure how long you stayed on top of the man, but rigor mortis took hold of his lifeless body before you found the will to move.

When did you become so ruthless?

You had no control as your feet carried you. Left, right, left, right, until you found yourself by a stream. You didn't notice Joel on the other side, but he noticed you. He always saw you. You always found your way back to him.

He often went to that stream. It was a short walk from Jackson, one well worth the peace of mind that he found in the way the water flowed. He enjoyed stacking the rocks that lived beneath the water, which were eroded by years of ripples, leaving them smooth and slick to the touch, and the cool water running over his rough hands. It was a rare thing for Joel to find serenity when you weren't around. The stream reminded him of you. He searched for you in everything around him. He often found you in water, in the way the wind blew through tree branches, in the way deer ran from the snap of a twig, in the way the sun rose in hues of pink and orange. He found you in every beautiful thing the world had left to offer.

But not that day.

That day, Joel found you in cruelty. He found you in blood-splattered clothing, with hands that would be stained with a tint of red, matted hair, a cut on your eyebrow, and skin embedded under your fingernails. He had never seen you in such a state. Your eyes were empty, stuck on the stream that separated the two of you. There was a dead salamander, held in place underneath the current by weathered rocks. You found death everywhere you went. There was no escape, no hiding spot. Sometimes, you thought it sought you out, damning you to an eternity of that fucking smell as a means of atonement for your sins.

Joel called your name across the small distance of the water. He didn't know his voice could be so gentle. "What happened to you?"

You didn't hear him. He stepped through the water, giving no care to the wetness seeping into his shoes, and spoke your name once more.

"Let me look at you." He was nearly an arm’s length away from you before you finally picked up on his presence.

"Stay away." You whispered, your throat ached. You couldn't remember screaming. "Don't come near me."

"What happened?" He stopped just a few inches in front of you, close enough for you to see the wrinkles in his forehead and the crows feet that decorated the corner of his eyes, close enough to reach out and touch him. Your hands stayed by your sides, not trusting that he was there, that your fingers wouldn’t pass through the muscles of his chest. You couldn’t let him vanish into thin air.

"I don't know." It was Joel’s turn to be scared. He took in the obvious context clues of your appearance, but it still told him so little. Was it your blood or someone else's? Was it Infected or a human? Why were you so shaken? Why did you want him to stay away? You looked as though the combination of the gentle spring breeze and his breath fanning out in front of you would knock you to the ground.

It did. He was right there to catch you.

He was always there.

"I need you to talk to me." He didn't know how to do this anymore. He had been trying to relearn the gentleness he once possessed so many years ago, the kind he used to rock his daughter to sleep when she was a baby. He was slowly getting there but he feared what he had to offer wouldn't be enough. Not when seeing you like this scared him more than any horror the world could conjure up. He thinks seeing you like this scared him more than you dying. He knew how to handle death, how to exact his revenge in the cruelest, most damnable of ways. He knew how to rip men into pieces, to make them regret ever drawing breath; he knew how to put fear into the heart of anyone who dared to cross his path or take what was his.

Joel knew violence. Bloodshed.

He didn't know how to make you stop shaking.

"I- I–" Your voice failed you.

"Let's just clean you up, okay?" All you could do was nod. He gently lowered you to the ground, not trusting your legs enough to allow you to attempt to stand again. He couldn't do anything about the soiled state of your clothes at that moment, but he could wash your hands and face for you. The water was just slightly too cold, but you were sweating and it would be good for you to cool down. He didn't care that it made the tips of his fingers numb. He could only care about you, the hollowness echoing in your chest, and the crazed look in your eyes.

Blood mixed with water, flowing over the dead salamander, still trapped under the rock and it felt like some kind of sick metaphor that you didn't have the capacity to decipher.

He used a rag stashed away in his pack to clean the evidence off of you. Most of the time, when you saw him use his hands, it wasn't pure or loving. Not like this. He was getting better, but he wasn't fully there. But, Joel found it in himself to love you with his hands that day. He showed you in the way the rag barely made contact with your skin, not wanting to leave behind any more redness than the blood already would; in the way that he eroded the edges of the stone in his eyes and placed his lips on your forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, just a moment of contact, a silent ‘I love you,’ in the only way he knew to show you in the moment.

One day, he would tell you. One day, he would tell you how you made it easier to stay alive. He would tell you how, in the past, he had found people he was willing to die for, but never someone that made him want to live; someone that gave him purpose for fighting every day; someone that made him feel as though the world wasn’t out to get him, like he was more than a weapon of destruction. You looked at him like he was still a human being; like he never knew bloodshed; like he held galaxies in his eyes; like he was the galaxy, and you were a newly formed star, looking for a place to call home.

Like he was still Joel Miller.

You made him feel like he still existed.

But he tucked his feelings inside of his pocket, along with the rag that he used to clean you. He still didn’t know whose blood stained the once-white cloth, but he could confidently say that none of it was yours, save for the cruor on your forehead. You had finally calmed down. Your heart still hammered in your chest, and your hands slightly trembled, but the gentle caress of Joel’s fingers against your skin instilled in you a degree of tranquility that you once thought only death could possess.

His name softly fell from your lips, and for the first time during your encounter, your eyes met his. "I need you to tell me what happened to you."

Joel wasn’t satisfied with your retelling of the events, but details changed nothing, and you loved the gray-haired man too much to distress him more than you already had. He knew you were not giving him the full picture—I was out walking, and someone came up from behind me. I took care of it. I just don’t like doing it up close… smells like shit— but he chose not to pry. He knew you would tell him when—if—you were ready. All that truly mattered was getting you home safely.

He walked closely beside you, so close that his body would slightly brush against yours as the uneven terrain caused both of you to slightly stumble and sway. Every time it happened, your skin caught fire. Joel did his best to ignore the sparks it sent through his chest in favor of paying enough attention to the path ahead for the both of you. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to look out for yourself—he trusted you with your life, which was considerably more important to him than his own—and he didn’t want you to have to stress yourself more than you already had. All he cared about was keeping you safe and as unperturbed as possible.

He took you to his and Ellie’s home.

You had practically lived there in the recent months, preferring to spend your free time with the grumpy older man—he was never grumpy towards you—and the young girl that had found a way to imbed herself within the walls he had spent the last twenty years fortifying. Articles of your clothing had found their way into his dresser without him ever noticing until he had to dedicate an entire drawer to you, not dissimilar to how the smallest pieces of you had slipped past his walls and attached to his heart. You carved statues out of the stone, creating an entire museum in his soul in your likeness; by the time he noticed, he had already spent every day marveling at the sculptures.

Sometimes, it scared him.

In fact, he vehemently tried to shut you out; he had a track record of failing to protect the ones he loved, and he already had Ellie to look after. If he lost both of you, it would be the end of him. There would be no coming back, and maybe if he acted like he didn’t care, he would one day believe it. The grief of Sarah and Tess haunted him, the burden being too much to bear some days. There is only so much loss, so much suffering that a heart can carry and he met his limit years ago—carrying the weight of a galaxy and all of her stars could do that to a man—and the more people he cared about, the more likely loss became. He never intended to let you in. Then again, he never intended to let Ellie in, but it was different with you. Ellie reminded him of what it was like to be a father, showed him that love is synonymous with more than pain and regret, but he still felt a degree of emptiness in his chest, a hollowness that he had long accepted would live inside of him until the day he died. She reminded him of hope, but there was something still missing. A missing puzzle piece that never actually came in the box, doomed to a lifetime of incompletion.

But you came along—your smile, your laughter, your witty remarks, the way you made him remember what life was and should have been, the way you took the galaxy off of his shoulders and put the sun in his ribcage. You meticulously handmade the missing piece of that puzzle over painstaking months. He had taken matters into his own hands many times and snapped it in half, but you never relented. You carved it out of a thin piece of wood, mixed the paint, and applied it with a brush that you crafted from a stick and horsetail, over and over again until he had no choice but to snap in the once-lost piece and frame it on his wall. You had given him everything he knew he was missing but didn’t know how to find, and damn sure did not know how to say.

The least he could do was take care of you, give you one of his t-shirts because you always said you loved the smell—he would never be able to understand why but the least he could do was oblige, and take care of you in the way you needed him to.

At least, that’s what he told himself when you climbed in his lap and peppered barely-there kisses down his jawline and neck. It’s what he told himself when your lips so gently met his, when your teeth bit his bottom lip and your tongue soothed the sting that was left behind. He wasn’t sure why it happened; maybe it was because you could’ve died and life had become too short to waste time pretending that you didn’t love Joel Miller with every fiber of your being, that he wasn’t the air you breathed or the blood pumping through your veins or the sun shining through your bedroom window in the morning. Maybe he reciprocated because you almost died, you almost broke your promise to him and the thought of you leaving his world without you ever knowing the way you breathed life back into his wretched body pained him far worse than any wound he had ever suffered.

"I worry when you go out there by yourself. You never know."

"You know I’ll always come back to you, Joel."

"You can’t be sure of that."

"I prom–"

"You can’t promise that."

"Yes, I can. I just did. You know I don’t break my promises."

It all came to a head on that couch. All of the stolen glances; the evenings spent lying in bed together, reminiscing on a life that no longer existed and picturing one that had yet to come to fruition; the accidental touches that were never truly accidents; the way that the two of you, together, were one of the last pure things left in the world, and you had somehow managed to come together in the midst of unspeakable horror to alleviate the neverending loneliness that crushed your souls for the last twenty years.

You brought Joel Miller back to life, lifted the child-sized grief riding on his shoulders, and bore the weight with him.

So, the least Joel could do was take care of you. He was a man of action, and you needed to forget that the world existed outside of the four walls and roof of his home; you needed a release, and he was happy to provide it for you. So, maybe that was why he reciprocated, why he softly grabbed your chin with his calloused hands and tilted it up so that he had free access to your neck. Delicate whimpers escaped from your kiss-swollen lips as he nipped at the juncture of your jawline and neck, leaving behind the faintest traces of purple that you would surely chastise him for in the morning. He played you like one of his guitars, and it was the sweetest melody to ever grace his ears.

You whined—a desperate sound he didn’t know your vocal chords possessed the ability to create—when he pulled your body off of his lap and sat you beside him on the couch. "What’re you doing?" You questioned him as he rose from the couch. For a moment, you feared that you had overstepped, that you had misread his affections and he thought of you in the same way he did Ellie. It crushed you, but only for a moment, because that was all the time it took for him to get on his knees in front of you, his large hands spreading your legs apart so that he could nestle in between them. The position sent discomfort through his persistently aching knees, but he didn’t have the willpower to care. Not when your eyes were practically begging him to continue, and your hands cupped his jaw and your thumb rubbed in a circular motion on his chin, grazing over his bottom lip when the pattern widened slightly.

"Let me take care of you, darlin’. Just relax for me." You thought that you were on fire when his arm brushed against yours in the woods, but that paled in comparison to the inferno raging inside of your stomach when Joel began unbuttoning your jeans. He was so gentle that if you closed your eyes, it was almost as though he wasn't there to begin with, but you couldn't tear your gaze away from him. Why would you, when he stared at you with such adoration, his hair already a mess, his pupils dilated despite the light shining in through the windows, on his knees for you?

Joel Miller didn’t have a submissive bone in his body, but he still bent the knee to you as though you were royalty, touched you like you were the only woman to exist, and you wanted to watch every second of it.

"This isn’t real." You whispered. He gripped your thigh, almost to the point of pain. You didn’t wake up.

"Do you want it to be?"

"God, yes."

You quickly learned that Joel liked to take his time. He was never a patient man, but with you? With you, he would wait until the end of infinity, until time ceased to pass and the seasons no longer existed. It felt as though it was exactly what he was waiting for as he left open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs, never quite reaching where you so desperately needed him. The longer he drew it out, the closer you came to believing that you had died in the woods and were mistakenly sent to heaven. His kisses were hot coals peppering your legs.

"Joel, stop tea—" He had already read your mind. He had a tendency to do so; some days, you thought he could truly see inside of you, could hear the thoughts bouncing around your brain. That couldn’t have been true. If he did, he would have known how badly you wanted him, just like he was in that moment months ago.

His deft fingers moved aside the cotton of your panties—had it been twenty years ago, you would have picked the silkiest of fabrics, tempted him into ripping them off of you, but undergarments were hard to come by and they were one of the few pairs you owned, so he took special care not to stretch or rip the fabric. His tongue licked a thick stripe up your center, grazing over a bundle of nerves that sent your body jolting, eliciting a chuckle from the man below you. It infuriated you that, despite being below you, he was still in complete and utter control of you. He clouded every inch of your senses, left you a complete mess above him and he had the audacity to laugh.

Your hands flew to his messy, salt-and-pepper hair as he began focusing on that bundle. You had never felt so alive. His tongue was hot, reaching all of the right places, and it left you an absolute mess. Joel had never seen you so desperate; he had never seen you beg, and he never thought he would, but now he was addicted. He thought he could spend the rest of his life between your legs and still never be satisfied.

It did not take long for that familiar knot to begin tightening in your stomach. "I— fuck— Joel." Words were completely lost on you, your brain was too overwhelmed with his tongue working your clit. Maybe it was because it had been the better part of five years since you had truly been with someone, or maybe it was because Joel knew exactly what he was doing and all of the right places to touch, or maybe it was both, but your orgasm hit you hard. Your back arched as your body was engulfed in white-hot pleasure, and your eyes screwed shut as you cried out into the empty room. Your fingers pulled tighter on Joel’s hair, and he moaned. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

You thought he would be done after that, that he would realize what he had done and what it meant and would run away with his tail between his legs. It seemed that only you had the power to truly scare Joel Miller. You tried to pull his head back up to you, but he wanted no part of it, finding shelter between your legs. His rough hands rubbed your thighs up and down and up and down while he went back to peppering kisses on the supple skin, whispering soft praises to you.

You did so good.

Such a good girl.

Sound so beautiful.

You were so caught up in the praise, in the way it warmed your body almost as much as your orgasm had that you missed his fingers trailing higher and higher until two of them were circling your clit and your body felt like a live wire. "Give me one more," he pleaded, and how could you say no to him?

Your second orgasm hit you harder and faster than the first. Joel applied ruthless stimulation to such a devastating spot that no one had hit so perfectly before, and it had you seeing stars behind closed eyes. When he added his tongue back, you were a goner, reduced to incoherent babbling, the only discernible words being, "Joel," and, "Please don’t stop." He was happy to oblige.

He strained painfully in the denim of his jeans, desperately wanting you underneath him; he wanted to look in your eyes as you came apart for him, and he wanted to feel you tighten around him and beg him for more, but he knew this wasn’t about him. It was about you, the way you desperately needed someone to hold onto; you needed a release, and he was happy to be nothing more than that for the time being.

When you came down, Joel whispered more praises to you, this time into the crook of your neck as he trailed more kisses across the skin. You could not remember the last time you were on the receiving end of something so tender, but you wanted it to last a lifetime. It made you feel human in a world that was going extinct; you felt alive again, and you weren't convinced it was only the orgasm that had done it. You knew it was Joel. You knew it was the way he kissed you, ran his hands over your body, and whispered those sweet nothings into your ear that had you remembering you were still human after everything you had done.

"Joel," you said, your eyes closed and your head tilted back as he rested in your neck.You had a million things you wanted to ask him. The words were stuck in your throat, and you choked on them. You knew he could see it.

"Just relax for me," He said it once again, but this time it made you melt. He lifted his head off of you, and pushed yours into his shoulder. "Don’t worry about me."

"You know I’m going to."

"Yeah," he almost laughed, "I know." You fell asleep with him petting your hair and his arm wrapped around your shoulders. The position was uncomfortable, and you would surely wake with stiffness in your neck, but you would have rather died than be without him and the scent of dirt and musk that flooded your senses. He was everything that you needed in that moment, and you knew some things were better left unsaid; the silence was an easier burden to bear than going a lifetime knowing with absolute certainty that he didn’t feel the same. Would he feel the same?

You thought your question was answered when you heard him humming to you as your mind became clouded with sleep.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #tlou show #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic

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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

Text

the lakes (5) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcoholism bc haymitch is there, brief drinking, allusions to death and violence, rebellion planning, allusions of trafficking/sexual trauma, wanting children, mentions of birth control and class divide, terms of endearment, mental illness, manipulation of someone's feelings, self-hatred, mentions of nausea and allusions to puking, reader being utterly enamored by Finnick, unedited, no use of Y/N

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Harsh wind made your body shake and Finnick immediately wrapped his arms around you. How he always felt like a furnace was something you'd accepted you'd never have the answer to and you gratefully relaxed into him.

“Oh look, I just happened to run into you two on the roof, a happy couple just relaxing while they still can." Haymitch's voice pierced the air billowing around you.

“What a coincidence.” Finnick took a step closer to where Haymitch was approaching.

"Gives us a perfect chance to talk about allies though.” Your voice was loud enough that if anyone was listening they would be sure to hear your completely pure intentions with a mentor right before everyone's voices conveniently took the octave and pitch down.

“After this there's not opting out, so I need to know that you're 100% on board. You could be killed if this gets found out." Haymitch fiddled with his flask.

“We're already going to be killed, at least this way there's a chance we can stay together and end all of this." He stood close enough now that your soft voice could only be heard within the earshot. Finnick squeezed your hand softly.

Haymitch nodded, “Beetee is in on it too, so is Wiress, but who knows how much of a help she'll be. Plutarch can give us insight into small things before the Games start, but the main point will be finding away for enough chaos to happen that we can get Katniss out of there.”

“So our job is to get her to trust us, protect her and Peeta so she sticks to the plan that will get her out." Subconsciously Finnick began tapping his fingers on your waist and you rubbed your thumb in circles across his hand to try and soothe whatever it was his mind was running on about.

“Yes and we might need to find a way to force that because you weren't doing a great job on that, darling. I can't blame you though, she can be quite difficult.” Haymitch took a swig from the flask, you could only imagine how burning cold the metal must have been. Then he was pointing at you, "The princess here might actually have more luck since in an ever so contradictory way she's less gaudy.” Finnick scoffed. "She'll just have to get over preconceived notions first which isn't usually easy. Going over tributes though the problem would be you as a package deal, so we might have to find a way to force her to ally with everyone anyways.”

Slowly, Finnick nodded, “We should tell Johanna, she'll definitely be determined even if she doesn't get Katniss’ trust right away."

Haymitch laughed slightly, “Oh I think she's already left quite the impression." You could only imagine what Johanna had done and you smiled, her blunt attitude had immediately drawn you to her and it helped that her strategy was slightly similar to yours as far as the tears went.

“You go, it'll look like you're trying to figure out alliances and not be as suspicious, if they are watching." You kissed Finnick's cheek and reluctantly pushed away from his comforting arms.

"Okay, I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too bad.” He began stepping away so slowly as if he wanted to stay too, which you couldn't imagine why you had to have made his internal heater freeze with every touch.

“Oh I already do." He smirked and you walked over the cement bench, patting on it as Haymitch sat down by you. He held his arm out, offering the flask he was holding. You thought about it for a second, but accepted the offer. Earlier assumptions were correct, the metal was so cold it burned the lips right before the alcohol did. “What is that?" You scrunched your nose, handing it back to him.

Haymitch chuckled, shaking his head. “One of their wild, Capitol creations." He shrugged slightly, the idea of carrying a drink around that you couldn't even name just to numb the pain made your head ache for the victor. “So you tied the knot away from all the pomp and pageantry?"

"They can't have all of me.” Even if they have most of me, went unsaid into the crisp night air. Your body, your tears, what you could give, the raw, violent parts of you forever memorialized for eternity. Now parts of the private ceremony would be exploited, but the moment could never, only the parts you chose to reveal. It was yours.

“Good for you." He took another drink. “They can only take so much from us, they have to know this was bound to happen." You hummed a yes and reached your hand out which he filled with the cold flask, you took another drink that stung your throat before returning it.

“I don't know how people can have kids when the world is like this." You muttered, looking out at the city below. So badly you wanted a family, Finnick would be a great father, but it seemed impossible to fathom when at any second, for years on end they could be ripped away to be publicly executed for entertainment. If they even managed to survive, horrors lay beyond that, you would never wish for your children to live in a world where they went through what you did.

He shook his head, “Desperation, extra hands, not everyone has fancy Capitol provided ways to prevent pregnancy, Princess."

"Yeah.” You were all too familiar with that. Rich men rarely wanted the possibility of a kid running around with a second-class being even if she was a victor and you took every precaution possible as the fear ate you up inside. They could steal away your body, your intimacy, how you felt with yourself, but if you did escape all of this the only kids you would be having would be yours and Finnick. You wouldn't let them own you in that aspect too. “She's lucky she and Peeta came off as such a strong case of star crossed lovers, it's saved her in and out of the arena. Saved both of them.” Blankly staring at the stars, too beautiful to shine on such a cruel world.

“That she is. My so-called defiance lost me everything, everyone and she managed to be so popular that they couldn't do that. It's why we stand a chance, princess.”

You stood up, "I'd wish you a goodnight, but that rarely happens.” You smiled, sadness tainting your eyes.

Haymitch shook the flask, "If it works right, I won't remember a thing.” He said it so sardonically it weighed down your very being. This is what the Capitol did to its child winners, fractured them into being blackout drunk to dodge the nights full of horror.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You sat on the hallway floor, it's carpet itching your skin as you sat there, head on Conway’s shoulder.

“The outfits were so ridiculous, dressing us like prize pigs." He seethed, “Not you I mean though, you didn't look like a pig, the blue looked nice on you-" Conway started rambling to make up for his initial words and you pressed a finger to his soft lips.

"I know what you mean.” You smiled, so softly it looked enamored with his stumbling. It was cute, but not like your Finnick's sureness in all he said. No, not your Finnick, not anymore he was just Finnick, the mentor, the guy from the past. Oh, how you craved his touch, the smell of his salty skin, the sound of his honey like voice. You scolded yourself, now wasn't the time, it couldn't be. You couldn't risk Conway being able to tell if you were thinking about the other man, as if he could somehow read your mind, nevertheless it was too risky.

“Thank you for always understanding me, you've always been so sweet since we were children, it's what made me want to be your friend in the first place and then-" He paused, then your lover is what he was holding back. You knew this, his sister had told you once back when you were with Finnick, how jealousy was eating Conway’s sweet soul alive. “Then made my family love you too."

It was like an arrow in your heart, you weren't sweet, it was more harrowing that he thought so. Your brain encouraged you to persist even though the echoes muttered back how much you should loathe yourself. “No, you're the sweet one. Always covering for me." You shook your head, keeping the smile glued on your face. His hand was suddenly on your chin, trying to guide you in. His fingers were slightly calloused but there were no sparks, like when Finnick even brushed his atoms into the same vicinity as yours. You leaned in slightly, eyes searching him as if you wanted to know if he really wanted this, of course you knew the answer though. His lips pressed themselves to yours, he tasted just as he sounded, like strawberries and you did like strawberries of course, but not as much as a raw honeycomb.

Just as quickly he pulled away, “I'm sorry." Conway’s voice spilled out, “I don't know what I was thinking, I know you still have him and all, I just I don't know." He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands, combing them through his hair anxiously.

“He's a jerk." He was, but in the best and worst way. “I don't know what I saw in him." You shook your head, sadly staring at the carpet. Urging the tears to present themselves to help cover your lies because you knew exactly what you still saw in him, his humor, his protection, the warmth, and the absolute love and care he exuded with each look, each graze of his fingertips. “Especially when-" You acted like you were getting choked up on your confession, you disgusted yourself.

Conway’s fingertips were tilting your head back up to him once again, “Really?" His eyes were eager, so innocent. You had to stop your resilience from breaking, from halting the whole operation. “Do you really mean that because I have for so long and please be honest?"

You were nauseous. Trying not to start gagging on nothing as you nodded. "Of course I do, I just didn't see what's been right in front of me.” He kissed you again and it was overwhelming your senses. Not in the way Finnick did which made you buzz, in a way that made you want to run. When he finally pulled away you forced yourself to let out a sly smile as you began standing. "I'll see you in the morning, we should sleep before all the training tomorrow, making impressions with the other tributes.”

His smile was shy and his eyes were basically begging you to stay with him another night, to hold you. It would certainly help your plan, but you couldn't. It was already too much and you needed senses knocked back into you before you broke. "Goodnight, sleep well." Conway whispered, slowly letting his fingers part from yours as he turned down the hallway. You'd been just outside of your room so you walked to it and opened it right before closing it to make it sound like you'd gone in before making a beeline in the opposite direction for Finnick's. Vainly trying to hold back the dry heaving.

Ever so softly your fists knocked on the door and almost instantly it was open, like he was waiting, like he knew you would be coming. Before another second could pass you'd thrown yourself into the protection of his arms and were weeping.

“I'm a terrible person." You choked out as he carefully shut the door with his foot, wrapping his arms around you even tighter like a blanket.

“No you're not an angel, it's survival of the fittest." He kissed the top of your forehead burying himself in it.

"Oh God, I'm gonna be sick.” He instantly led you to the bathroom where you were in fact. He didn't leave you though, he pulled out some medicine to soothe your stomach and head. Handing you a glass of water as he soothingly had his hand on the top of your head, stroking your hair. Once you've finished he was brushing your teeth for you.

It should be pathetic to have someone doing that for you, but not when it was him just trying to keep you secure. “Gotta open wider, angel." He was diligent and precise before helping pull you up from the edge of the tub to the sink. “Okay now spit. Let's get you into bed, sweet girl."

“Thank you, I'm sorry." You muttered out, voice raspy.

“Don't ever be." His warm hands tilted your chin up in a way that melted you into his touch like sugar in tea. “Look at me. You're doing what it takes to survive, which you deserve to do, I'm just doing what you deserve." Your Finnick could make you fall into tears every time, healing the patches of the broken heart you had from the way you were using Conway. “Let's get you to bed." He began to walk out of the bathroom and you softly put your hand on the one trailing away.

"Finnick.” Your voice was tender but the air was so stagnant it felt booming to your ears. He turned to look at you, worry evident. "Can I stay? Please?” Finnick smiled so sympathetically it made your head feel better, like it would float away instead.

"Of course, my love, you can always stay with me, I'll always stay with you.” As you crawled into the sheets that he'd of course emanated his soothing heat onto you knew it was true. Just as you knew you'd always stay with him.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading! literally y'all's comments make my heart so happy and my passion for continuing to write this skyrockets, you are all so incredibly kind and supportive 💕 as always if you enjoyed feedback, likes, reblogs, comments are all so appreciated and my asks are open bc I think about this series all the time. I love you guys and thank you again sm 💋

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unseededtoast · 7 months

Text

Begin Again | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: Based off Hozier’s song “All Things End”. In which things abruptly ended between you and Spencer, and you’ve never been able to reconcile your emotions over the relationship, or losing him. When presented a second chance on a silver platter, you’re grateful for the chance to begin again.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 9.2k

warnings: a lot of angst, that's about it.

a/n: and here i am again with another Hozier/Spencer collab. I promise the next one isn't going to be Hozier inspired lol, and I hope not to take two weeks to get the next out, but thank you for reading, it means the world:)

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

If you had known five years ago where your dream job would lead you, you don't think you would have taken it. In fact, you would've went running in the opposite direction of the FBI's Quantico office, never to step a foot over the threshold. And maybe things would have been better that way, but there's no way to know.

Sure, you loved the job, adored it even. You took pride in knowing that you've saved people and locked the bad guys away, never to see the light of day again. And you loved your team, well, some more than others; but that was five years ago by now. You thought you had left it all behind but here you sit, waiting for your old boss to show up at a restaurant he made reservations at.

Your foot nervously taps against the floor, not entirely sure what to expect. You hadn't heard from anyone on the team in years, and out of the blue your old supervisor wants to meet? It probably doesn't mean anything good. But thankfully, your mind doesn't have to race for much longer as you see your old supervisor, Hotch, walk through the glass doors. You stand to shake his hand, and he greets you.

"It's been a while." He says, sitting down into the chair. You nod your head, scooting your chair closer to the table.

"It sure has been." The tension in the air is palpable, your palms are sweaty and your heart races, beating erratically in your chest.

"How has life been treating you?" He eases into the conversation, sipping on the water the waitress had dropped off before he arrived.

"It's been alright. Took a job as a professor." You say, skirting around the reality of what the past five years have really been like. It wouldn't be professional for you to tell Hotch your world had crashed and burned.

"That's good to hear." He smiles softly, and this time it's your turn to drink some water. You only hope he doesn't notice the tremble in your hands, but you know with his expertise he picked up on it immediately. Unable to take the suspense any longer, you speak up.

"Hotch, why did you call me here?" Your eyes bore into his as you await his answer. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

"There's been some changes in management since you've been gone. Strauss no longer oversees the BAU." He says, as if that's supposed to mean anything to you. You swirl the straw around in the cup, trying to give your mind something else to focus on to alleviate the overwhelming nerves.

"That's such a shame." Your voice drips with sarcasm. If you had it your way, Strauss would have fallen off the face of the planet five years ago.

"We would like to reinstate you." The straw stops swirling in the glass and it's like ice fills your veins. Lifting your gaze from the water, you see nothing but seriousness on his face.

"Reinstate me?" You're in disbelief, but Hotch nods.

"Only if you're interested." He says, sliding a file full of paperwork over to you. You open the file and see reinstatement forms waiting for you, a pen clipped to the top. Your mouth falls open in disbelief.

"I didn't think that was possible. After my suspension I was ineligible for any other federal position. So how is this happening?" You read the words on the front page of the form, unsure if you want to fill it out or not.

"I was able to pull some strings. We'd be happy to have you back." You know his words aren't entirely representative of everyone's feelings about you on the team, a pit of unease forms in your stomach the longer you look at the words.

"Well, some people maybe." You mutter, closing the file. Hotch sighs and readjusts his tie.

"The team misses you. Come by the office with me, for old time's sake if nothing else." Hotch offers, and despite the unease about seeing some of your former teammates, your curiosity and love for the job takes over.

"Sure." You agree, a part of you needing to see the office again. The office had practically been your home at one point, and now it's just a bittersweet memory.

The two of you hurry through lunch and before you know it, you're in a familiar passenger seat. Hotch's black SUV hadn't changed a bit, it's nostalgic in the best way possible. The file is clutched tightly in your grasp, your knuckles turning white as you get closer to the office. Familiar streets look the same as you remember, almost as if Quantico is stuck in time. You only hope that not everything about Quantico had been entrapped, you desperately hope that some things have changed.

Hotch parks in front of the building and your throat goes dry, your legs seemingly paralyzed, unable to move from their spot. Noticing your apprehensiveness, Hotch walks around and opens your door, offering you his hand to take. You take his hand and step out of his car, making the trip up to the BAU's office. The elevator ride is quicker than you remember and before you're mentally prepared, the doors slide open and you're met with a familiar space.

You walk behind Hotch, not being brave enough to walk in first. That, plus you're technically a visitor with no right to walk ahead of an agent. It seems the office space has also fallen victim to the time capsule effect. There's not a single desk or chair out of place. Your eyes glance around, seeing Derek's jacket slung over the back of his chair, Emily's usual coffee order beside her computer, and your old desk that sits empty. You purposefully ignore one of the desks, not having the courage to look over there.

Hotch leads you to his office and closes the door behind you. The blinds on his office windows are open, meaning anyone can look in here and see you sitting across from his desk. You're not sure if you want them to see you or not. No, you're definitely sure there's one person you don't want to see you.

"Now, I'm not asking you to make a decision right now. I know there's a lot to consider, but hear me out. I know that you did the right thing back then, if it were up to me you wouldn't have been suspended. You were one of our best and we need you back." He leans forward on his desk and you avert your gaze from him, looking down at the file on your lap. Your foot taps on the ground, mind racing a million miles a minute.

"If I do accept, I get fully reinstated?" It almost feels like a dream, you need to be sure that this is really happening.

"Fully reinstated." Hotch confirms. For the past five years this is all you've wanted, but now that you're presented with the opportunity, you can't help but wonder if the past has tarnished any chance of a new beginning or any fresh start here.

You hear an increase of voices outside of Hotch's office and you can't help but look over. Emily and Derek joke back and forth about something, each with a file in their hand. They must have just returned from a case. Following close behind is the one person you had hoped to avoid altogether, Spencer.

Your heart drops to your stomach, and it's like a bowling ball has been thrown right at your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. He's holding his own file and he takes a seat at his desk, opening the front of it up and quickly filling out the forms inside. His hair has grown out, it's curlier than you remember. And he looks more mature, his features more beautifully defined.

You remember all the mornings you would bring him coffee and all the times he would bring your favorite kind of muffin. How sometimes you'd return from a break and find that your incident report had already been completed. And then there were the times you would camp out at his desk, content to listen to him ramble about anything and everything under the sun. You always adored how animated he got when he was passionate about something, that was until the passion pivoted from topics of interest to yelling at each other in his kitchen. He sure was animated then, too.

"I can walk you out if you'd like." Hotch interrupts your staring and you blink a few times, knocking yourself out of your trance.

"Yeah, I'd like that, thank you." Your voice is hoarse and you make it your mission to keep your gaze focused on the back of Hotch's head as you exit the office. You don't miss the sudden cessation of voices as you two walk out, you can only imagine the conversations that follow your presence here.

Hotch drives you back to your car left at the restaurant and tells you to inform him of your decision, regardless of what it may be. You agree, it's the least you can do, but you don't give an indication one way or the other. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to decide. There are a lot of factors to consider, and Hotch knows that. He drives off and you return to your home, unable to think of anything else but the offer to be reinstated.

-----

The forms have sat on your countertop for the past three days, their presence almost suffocating you. You had tried to do other things, grade your student's papers and outline lesson plans but nothing was working. The only thing you can think of is whether or not you should take Hotch up on his offer.

Photos on your walls of the people you've saved stare back at you, their permanently smiling faces reminding you of all the good that came from the job. Your eyes move from one photo to the other, remembering each case as if it happened yesterday. Hardly anyone on the team kept photos like this, but you took inspiration from your mentor, Gideon, and admired how he was able to keep himself from getting lost in the darkness that comes with the territory of the job by reminding himself of those he saved.

While there were people you saved, there were a lot you lost as well. And you can't forget them either, no matter how hard you try. Their cries, screams, and corpses are forever tattooed in your memory and no matter the amount of time that passes, the memories never fade.

Without considering the people saved and the people lost, there's still the matter of your teammates. You had lost contact with them all after your suspension and you don't know if they'd welcome you back with open arms. Besides your suspension, there's the matter of Spencer.

Things hadn't ended well between the two of you, and you're not sure if you two could work together cohesively. Sure, everything happened five years ago but it doesn't take a genius to understand that time doesn't heal all wounds. Not wounds that cut down into someone's soul, the very fiber of their being.

You still remember the last words you ever spoke to one another, you remember the malice you held for each other. And it would be easy to place blame on either one of you, but you know deep down that it was not the sole fault of you, nor him. You each played a part in the relationship's downfall. Without thinking, you find yourself staring at an old team photo and the memory of that fateful night seeps into your mind.

-----

His hand slams down on the granite countertop, causing you to stop speaking immediately. He's never been this angry with you before, or ever, for that matter. His face is red, brows drawn tightly together, veins prominent on his forearms from the adrenaline.

"How could you have been so stupid? You knew what would happen and you did it anyways!" Spencer is trying his best not to outright scream at you, his voice is strained and you stammer to find the words. You can't believe he's actually blaming you for what you did.

"Stupid? If I hadn't done that she would have died. A five year old child would have been slaughtered in front of me. I didn't have time to think about the legality of the situation or how we could have benefitted from keeping the unsub alive, forgive me I forgot you've never made a damn mistake in your life." Anger and sarcasm thickly coat your words as you take a few steps towards him, not keeping your composure as well as him.

You had just shot a man at point blank range to save a girl's life not three hours ago, and had been suspended from the FBI for one. And here you are, having a screaming match with Spencer in his kitchen. You had expected him at least to console you, to reassure you that you had done the right thing, but instead he criticizes you.

His apartment had always been your safe haven. After particularly rough cases, the two of you would return here and hold each other close for however long it took to be okay again. He would make your favorite tea, and you would read him whatever book he wanted, wrapped up in each other's arms, safe. This place was supposed to protect you two from the horrors of the world, be your own little slice of peace. But within the blink of an eye, your safe haven turned into your own personal hell.

"He could have given us so much more information about other victims. There was no guarantee she would have died. If you would have just thought things through none of this would have happened." He shakes his head, voice dropping octaves and it chills you to your core. Your jaw sets tightly and your chest constricts with emotion. After everything you two had overcome together, you can't believe this is the last straw.

"You know what Spencer, you were the one person I thought I could count on to back me up on this." You say, taking steps back and accepting the hard reality that things can never be the same. You turn and make your way to his bedroom and find your bag at the end of the bed. In a rush, you open it and throw some of your belongings in before zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder.

As you pass him in the kitchen you dig into your pocket and find your keys. With trembling fingers, you take the key to the apartment off the ring and toss it on the counter. Without stopping to gauge his reaction, you reach the front door and turn the handle. Before you take your last steps out of the apartment, you turn back and face him. The man you had planned a life with is now unrecognizable to you, and you force yourself not to cry in front of him. Knowing this could very well be the last time you ever see him, you find it within yourself to say something.

"What happened?" Your voice breaks, betraying your false attitude of confidence. Before he can speak, you close the door behind you and put one foot in front of the other with no destination in mind.

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

-----

Your fingers ghost over the picture frame, and a lone tear streams down your cheek. It's hard saying how many tears you've shed over the entire situation, and you're sure this won't be the last.

After a while, you find yourself on your couch, snuggled underneath a faux fur blanket and staring at your wall of photos. Their smiles seem to be wider tonight, like they're encouraging you to make a choice. Something within you blooms, a spark of hope burns in your chest and you know that you've made your decision.

The love of the job, the love of helping people, is far stronger than your sorrows over Spencer. You've had five years to come to terms with that relationship ending, but you've never been able to come to terms with losing the job you worked so hard for. Besides, you're not going to let a man force you to change your plans for the future.

Your hands find your phone and you email your resignation to your boss at the university. It's past midterms, and everyone is performing well enough so you decide to pass them all, no final exam needed for anyone.

Not caring about the fallout of your abrupt resignation, you get to work filling out the reinstatement forms. You feel a familiar buzz, the one that has your fingertips tingling with excitement and it's clear that you're making the right decision. You're going to be back where you rightfully belong.

- - - - - The next morning you step off the elevator with the file clutched tightly by your side. Butterflies flutter in your tummy but you force yourself to hold your head high as you open the office doors. You've made a point to dress your best, wanting your reinstatement to be memorable and show people that you're back for good; and you mean business.

Hotch's door is open and so you let yourself in. His eyes widen when he sees you and motions for you to take a seat. He eyes the folder in your hands and you can tell from the way he sets his pen down that he's nervous about what you've come here to say. You could have fun with this moment and make him sweat with anticipation, but you're not cruel and your excitement surely shows through your façade.

"I take it you've come to a decision?" He breaks the silence and meets your eyes. You nod your head, trying your hardest to keep a neutral expression.

"I have." You say and slide the file across his desk. Hotch opens the front cover and you see his shoulder relax, he lets out a breath he had been holding.

"I was hoping you'd come back." He smiles and stands from the desk, extending his hand for you to take. Unable to keep a smile off your face, you feel like this is your first day all over again; bright eyed and hopeful for the future.

"Couldn't keep me away." You tell him and he drops your hand. The clock on his wall reads ten minutes until ten, and you're hopeful that he lets you sit in on the morning's briefing.

"You know the drill, conference room in ten." He says and places the file on a stack on his desk. With a nod of your head, you exit his office and go back to the bullpen, where your confidence falters and reality sets in.

You had convinced yourself last night that the love of this job would be enough but you can't deny the creeping anxiety you feel. How is the rest of the team going to react? And what are you going to do if they're unwelcoming? You know you can count on Spencer being unwelcoming, but you hope the others aren't. You've missed them more than anything.

Ten minutes flies by too quickly for your liking. You had shown up to the conference room early, too anxious about running into someone to do anything else. But one by one the team files in, luckily Hotch comes first and you know with him here nobody will dare say anything to your face. Derek, Emily, and JJ come in shortly after Hotch, each giving you a small smile as they take their seat around the table. The tension is palpable in the air, almost as if an energy is buzzing between all of you. But when Spencer makes his appearance, it's like your heart drops into your stomach.

He blatantly ignores you, opting to take the farthest seat from you, sipping his morning cup of coffee. You try not to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye you can notice even more changes about him. His style, for starters, is one of the biggest changes. It seems he's ditched his sweaters and instead has replaced them with simple button ups, sleeves rolled to his elbows with a simple black tie.

Your heart rate increases as you realize this is not the same man you remember, he seems intimidating now; which is never how you would have described him before. He's not the Spencer you knew at all, and you're not sure if that makes you relieved or pained. Pulling you out of your train of thought, Hotch begins the morning meeting.

"Now, I'm just going to address the elephant in the room. We've regained one of our best team members, and I'm confident that we can all work cohesively together moving forward." You know who his words are for, everyone does. But luckily, Hotch moves on, bringing up pictures of young girls and this time, JJ speaks up.

"Three girls have gone missing in Northeast Harbor, Maine. It's right by the Acadia National Park which makes it a highly traveled place. Each girl attended the local high school, all in the same class. The first went missing three weeks ago, the second went missing two weeks ago, and the third went missing one day ago." JJ gives us the rundown of the case, and you take as many mental notes as you can, feeling a little out of practice from the order of operations. And you don't miss how similar this is to the case the team was working when you were suspended. In fact, this case is eerily similar.

"Local police have called us in before a fourth goes missing. They've found no evidence that the girls have been killed, so we treat this case as missing persons. Wheels up in fifteen." Hotch says, dismissing the team. You know that you will get more details on the flight to Maine, so you don't sweat the smaller details of the case.

Everyone gets up to leave, Spencer is the first out of the room and it's almost as if being in that room was the worst form of torture for him. With a sigh, you get up and follow the others, trying not to dwell on Spencer's actions too much. After all, you knew this was coming.

"It's good to have you back." Emily says as you pass her desk, and you smile, stopping to talk with her.

"It's good to be back. I didn't think I'd ever get this chance." You tell her truthfully, trying to gauge her reactions to you being here. She smiles warmly, her fingers curled around a disposable coffee cup.

"When Strauss retired, bringing you back was one of the first things Hotch wanted to do." She says, which surprises you. With raised eyebrows, you perch on the edge of her desk.

"Really? And everyone was okay with it?" You inquire, wanting to see if she'll give you any helpful information about everyone else's feelings about having you back. She takes a sip of her coffee and nods.

"Really. After you were suspended we conducted our own investigation into the matter and we even went to Strauss about it. But she wouldn't change her mind, no matter what evidence we showed her." Emily sighs and takes another drink. You had never heard of any sort of investigations or other findings, it's all news to you.

"What did you all find?" You ask, nervous to know what had happened after you had been dismissed from service. Emily's eyes look around the bullpen before she steps closer to you.

"We found a notebook at the unsub's house, full of information about the other victims, almost like a step-by-step replay of how he abducted them. We found the other three missing girls locked away in the shed behind his house. It didn't matter if he lived through that day or not, we had saved them all." Her words hit you hard, like you had just walked headfirst into a brick wall. Your mouth falls agape in shock.

Strauss' reasoning for having you suspended was that the use of deadly force wasn't warranted, that it was unnecessary and excessive. Even though he had a knife to a girl's throat, she was hellbent on the idea that had he lived more information would've been found. But the information was found not even twenty four hours after your suspension.

"So you're telling me that not even a full day after she suspended me you all found the other girls alive and well? Killing him didn't affect anything?" You almost can't believe what you're hearing. Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder,

"We did. And when you killed him you likely saved that girls' life. His notebook told us that he was planning on ramping up his attacks." You feel like you could get sick. Out of the corner of your eye you see Spencer walking towards his desk, but all you can focus on is the revelation Emily just revealed to you.

"So my suspension was for nothing?" Your voice wavers as it all sinks in. You had indeed saved that girls life, and hadn't even ruined the chance of finding the others. Your fingers grip the edge of her desk tightly. Emily's grasp on your shoulder tightens, and she brings you in for a hug.

"We all tried our best, but Strauss wasn't having it. But we're glad you're back. We've missed you." She says, backing out of the embrace and leaving you shell-shocked on her desk as she goes to throw away her coffee cup.

-----

The jet is silent as everyone reviews information for the case. Your eyes read the words but your distracted mind can't comprehend them. No, your mind is too busy mulling over the fact that your suspension had been needless. And if that was needless, so was your fight with Spencer. Things didn't have to be this way, but they were.

Your eyes flicker up to Spencer, who's sitting across the jet from you, eyes trained on the papers in front of him. His beauty still manages to take your breath away, though you know you should hate him. You should despise him, but you can't. Some of your fondest memories are shared with him. And no matter how cruel his words were to you, you can't erase the love you still hold for him.

Probably feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and meets your eyes for the first time in five years. Your heart thumps erratically. While his style might have changed and his hair might be curlier now, his eyes are still the same.

You remember waking up and seeing those eyes shining down at you. The memories of looking into those eyes for comfort and love are not lost on you, your heart yearns for more of those moments; but you know that might never happen again.

All too soon, Spencer breaks eye contact with you and continues reading the file. Even more distracted than before, you feign reading the case file. You know you should be trying your best to absorb the information given this is your first case back but your mind is flooded with memories on this jet.

Everywhere you look, you can remember a moment you shared with Spencer. How he would beat you at chess every time, how you two would fall asleep next to each other on the bench seat, hands intertwined. Even the bathroom holds memories of when he would clean blood off of you from particularly bad cases, and how he would hold you as if you were the most precious artifact.

And all of that ended, all of it in the blink of an eye.

You bite the inside of your cheeks as to not cry from the overwhelming emotions you're not longer able to suppress and force yourself to read the words on the paper. Your body betrays you, and a single tear drops from your cheeks and stains the paper.

By the time the jet lands, you've somehow managed to read the case file front to back and have the information basically memorized. A sense of deja vu dances in your head, seeing similarities to the last case you worked. But this time, you vow to yourself that you won't get suspended. In fact, you'd be surprised if you're given any responsibility except for victimology.

-----

Just as you figured, you've been stuck with victimology. Which is fine, you're definitely not about to complain about what responsibilities you're saddled with; you're just happy to be back.

Unfortunately, Spencer has been tasked with the geographic profile, as usual, which means you two are forced to work in close quarters in the police precinct. You're not sure if Hotch did this on purpose or not, but you do your best to keep your head down and get your work done well. You want to impress the team on your first case back to show them you still have what it takes, that you deserve to be here.

You have pictures of the missing girls spread in front of you, and you take your time to study their physicality, to pick out any similarities they share to suggest why they may have been singled out. Your keen eye for detail hasn't deteriorated in the past five years, and you're able to make a list of all physical similarities before you move onto other types of similarities.

While you try your best to focus solely on your work, it's hard to concentrate when Spencer is so close. He's too close for comfort, you can smell his cologne and all you want to do is to be wrapped up in his arms so you can fully appreciate how good he smells. You want to bury your face into the curve of his neck, to feel his skin on yours.

Truthfully, after things ended with you and Spencer, you couldn't bring yourself to let another man touch you. The thought of anyone's hands on you except for Spencer's made you nauseous. You only want him to know your body like that, and beyond the physicality, Spencer knows you on such a deeply intellectual level, an intimate level.

Your gaze travels from your list to his back, watching as he pushes pins into a map. His shoulders strain against the button up, showing you that's he's put on some muscle. It looks good on him, everything about him looks good. It's hard to believe that this is the same man you had planned your life with.

He abruptly turns around from the board, and you're caught red-handed. His eyes immediately find yours that are already trained on him. The expression on his face is unreadable, you silently beg for him to say something, anything, even if it is a criticism. You just need to hear his honeyed, smooth voice say your name. You see him swallow before he clears his throat and returns to his work.

Your throat constricts and you hastily stand from your seat, needing some fresh air. You push past officers walking down the hall and practically run outside. Once the sunshine hits your skin, you try to take some breaths and calm your racing mind. Where your mind should be occupied on the case, the only thing you can think of is Spencer.

Maybe your love for the job just isn't going to be enough for you to get through this.

While standing outside to regain your wits, the team returns and Hotch looks at you with confusion. In fact, they all do, but Hotch is the only one to say something.

"Why are you out here? Is everything okay?" He looks over you and can probably easily see indications of stress. But you hope to stave him off, and downplay the situation.

"I'm fine, just needed some fresh air is all." You smile up at him, really trying to sell your story as the truth. You definitely can't tell him you almost regret being reinstated.

"Yeah, okay. Well, we need you inside to review everything." From the sound of his voice you know he doesn't buy it, but doesn't push the matter any further.

The pit in your stomach returns as you realize you only have a portion of the victimology done. You should have it nearly completed but you couldn't focus for more than five minutes. Internally, you kick yourself and start figuring out what explanation you're going to give.

The entire team crowds in a small conference room within the precinct, ready to debrief on today's findings. Those working in the field speak up first, lending their theories about what kind of person we're looking for. But you already know the kind of monster you're looking for, it's the same as the man you shot.

Your turn comes around and you let out a sigh. Maybe you can blame your rusty skills on the suspension. They might buy it.

"The victims, as we know, are all within the same age range as each other with similar physical features. It's likely that these victims remind the unsub of someone he has a history with." You begin your on-the-fly analysis and hope they can't see right through you. Knowing you still have work to do, you finish with telling them you're wrapping up the additional research. Thankfully, they all receive your answer well.

You turn from the board to take your seat again, meeting Spencer's eyes once more. You can't tell if he's unimpressed or if he's inside his own mind. Quite frankly, you'd rather not know. The thought of him being unimpressed with you feels like a hot iron being pushed through your torso because you remember how euphoric it felt to receive his praise.

-----

"You know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself." You fight off a laugh, watching your boyfriend scramble for the documents on your desk. He's insisting that he finish your reports so the two of you can go home early. The thought is nice, but you feel bad for him having to do more work.

"I know you can do it and that you'll do it perfectly, but I want to." He says, finally grabbing the file from your hand. With a huff, you let him take the victory and stand from your seat, going to return your dirty mug to the break room.

When you come back into the bullpen, you can't help but to admire how handsome Spencer is. The angles of his nose and jaw are perfection, and his curly brown hair is the softest you've ever felt. After two years of being together, you have yet to find a flaw.

You perch yourself on the edge of his desk, watching his scribbled handwriting fly across the page. As long as Hotch doesn't catch on that Spencer's doing your work, you suppose you can let him finish it this once. While he works to finish the report, your fingers rake through his hair, eager to go home for the night.

You don't really feel like going out, you're tired from the return back to Quantico today and so you hope Spencer doesn't mind staying in. You'll let him pick the movie, and you'll make his favorite dessert; it'll be a picture perfect evening together.

After he's done, you two walk hand in hand down to your car, and you make the familiar trip to Spencer's apartment. Well, to your apartment as well. The two of you had agreed that it makes more financial sense for you to move in with him, and so you did without a second thought.

As the sun sets, casting a warm golden glow throughout the apartment, you close your eyes and snuggle into Spencer's side. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head and reminds you of what a good job you did on the case. The simple moments like these are your favorite, where the two of you are content with just the presence of the other.

-----

Hours later, you're still at the precinct trying to get the victimology done before going back to the hotel. You were hoping Spencer would've left with the rest of the team, but he insisted that he still has work to do. So it's just the two of you working in strained silence.

Every once in a while you glance up at him, only to see that he's engrossed in his work. The familiar crinkle of his eyebrows is prominent as he studies the map in front of him, and you know that before too long he'll reach the conclusion he's looking for. His mind works in mysterious ways that you can't even begin to comprehend.

Not wanting to be caught staring again, you put pen to paper and write out your thoughts and theories. You know that the unsub is physically weak because he's decided to go after young girls and that the unsub is likely a staff member or someone trusted, seeing as how the girls all vanished on school grounds without a commotion. Your pen taps the table as your brain works to flesh out a better profile of the unsub.

About an hour later, your mind is exhausted and you know that even if you stay up trying to figure it out that you won't be able to come up with anything good. Your brain needs a break from critical thinking. You tuck the contents of the file inside rather haphazardly, the thought of a hotel bed is enticing, so enticing that you almost forget Spencer is here with you; that is until you hear him call your name. Feeling as if a weight had been dropped into your stomach, you swallow your nerves and turn to face him. His doe eyes look soft, unlike the guarded expression he wore earlier.

"Yeah?" You ask, thankful your voice doesn't show him how nervous you are. He places the cap back on his marker and rolls up the maps he was working on. With each step that he takes closer to you, your heart thumps harder until he's right in front of you, within your arm's reach.

"It's late, you shouldn't walk back to the hotel alone." He states in a soft tone. Everything within you wants to accept his offer immediately, but the guarded part of you won't let you. Within the last five years you and Spencer had been separated, you had become hyper-independent; and now that part is trying to take control in order to spare your feelings.

"I should be okay, it's only a few blocks away. I wouldn't want to interrupt your work." You say and adjust the grasp you have on your file, going to step away from him. The second your head turns, you feel his hand wrap around your arm gently. His hand is warm, and familiar.

"I've been done with my work for the last two hours." He admits, and your eyebrows crease together.

"Then why stay here? You could've gone back with the team." The confusion is prominent in your voice. It just doesn't make sense, and Spencer is a man that prides himself on making logical choices. He licks his lips, a nervous habit you had picked up during your first year on the team.

"Well I just- I just needed to make sure that you got back alright." You can see the insecurity from the slouch in his shoulders and his stumbling of words. Your throat is dry, and you feel yourself start panicking. You don't know what to do. A part of you just wants to kiss him but the other part remembers the look on his face when he called your actions stupid.

"Hotch reinstated me, I have my gun back. I'll be okay." You reason with him, eyes darting down to the holster on your hip.

"I know that. But, please, just let me walk you back." He practically begs. You know you don't have a good reason to tell him no, other than for selfish reasons. So you just nod, and he follows you out of the precinct.

The streetlights offer a good amount of light, and the critters in the trees hoot and chirp around, bringing life to the dark. Besides the wildlife, your footsteps are the only other thing to be heard. That is, unless he can hear how your heart is about to beat out of your chest. Never in this lifetime did you ever think this scenario was plausible, yet here you are. Walking side by side with Spencer as if you two didn't once share everything under the sun. As you walk back, you know your time is limited, and there's one burning question you've wanted to ask.

"Spencer, why didn't you tell me that the team had found those girls the next day?" Your voice is hoarse from how dry your throat is, and Spencer slows his pace. He looks down to the sidewalk and licks his lips before answering.

"I didn't think you would want me to contact you. You left your key on the counter and packed a bag, I knew you weren't coming back." His voice is quiet and sounds pained. Your pace slows to match his.

"I mean, I had just shot a man and you told me I was stupid." You point out, vividly recalling the sound of his hand coming into contact with the countertop. Your heart shatters a little more each time you think about it. It's still hard to believe that your loving Spencer was capable of being so angry with you. Glancing from the sidewalk to Spencer's face, you don't miss how his lower lash line looks wet. His hands are tucked into his pockets, eyes glued to the pavement, until they snap up and see you standing there, illuminated only by the streetlamp.

"You weren't stupid. You did what you had to do to save the girl. I was just scared. I was so scared of what they were going to do to you. They suspended you and I didn't know if it was going to end there. I thought maybe that they might even press criminal charges." He tells you, and while it makes sense, it still doesn't justify his actions in your mind.

"I was scared out of my mind. That was the first person I ever killed." You tell him, aware that he already knows that. But if you all are rehashing the past, why not bring it up? You'd be lying if you said you weren't trying to slightly guilt trip him.

"I should have been there for you, no matter what they were going to do. I panicked and made you leave your home." His voice cracks and you feel your own voice constrict. Your free hand balls into a fist to keep yourself from reaching out to him and comforting him.

"You had to protect yourself too. If you defended me too much, you could've been facing suspension as well." You had thought over the entire scenario every day for the last five years and know that part of his reaction was likely to protect himself as well. It hurts, but you understand. The job is everything to him.

"I would have rather been suspended than lose you." A lone tear drips down his cheekbone. Your brain feels like it's short circuiting from trying to keep up with everything that he's telling you. But you recognize the gravity of the situation you're in and you know that this is your chance to start making amends or burn the remnants.

"Spencer. This is, this is a lot-" You start speaking but he's cutting you off.

"Please, take your time and think about it. I'll give you all the time in the world if that's what you need." His words bring some relief, the pressure of making an on-the-fly decision while mentally exhausted is alleviated, but you know you're going to have to figure things out soon.

The two of you walk back to the hotel in silence, save for a sniffle here and there from Spencer. You decide that you'll work this case and go back to Quantico, and by then you should have your mind made up. He walks you to your door and bids you a goodnight before returning to his own room. As he walks down the hall, a small part of you already knows what decision you're going to make.

-----

The team had the case solved in three days. It was easy enough, the unsub practically singled himself out in staff interviews and the girls were all found alive, thankfully. He had been keeping them in a cellar attached to his house, bound and gagged. You're glad this one ended without incident, and you're grateful to see the reunification of the girls with their parents.

But, the job never stops, and so the team loads back onto the jet to Quantico. You feel Spencer's eyes on you for the entire ride back, but you do your best to ignore him. You had your mind made up, but you just weren't sure of what you wanted to say and you knew that if you looked at him that you would give yourself away. The perfect words are needed to fully express your sentiments, it needs to be done right. Plus, he said you had all the time in the word. But, the part of you that's missed him for the last five years is becoming very impatient and you know you're going to tell him soon.

As the team disembarks from the jet, talking about their weekend plans, you come up with what you believe is a good idea. The team waltzes into the office and conducts their investigation reports, excited to start their weekend while you fill your file out with the utmost haste, you practically buzz with anticipation.

"You got a hot date to get to or something?" You hear Derek ask you, gaining the attention from some of the others, Spencer included. Your eyes bounce from him back to Derek and you shake your head.

"Oh, no I just want to get it all on paper before I forget." You lie, probably very unsuccessfully judging by the look Derek gives you, but he drops it. Within seconds, he's back to talking about his plans to Emily.

Twenty minutes later and you're practically running out of the office and to your apartment. Before you carry out your idea you want to make sure you look your best. So you take your time to shower, do your hair, and pick out a flattering outfit. If everything goes accordingly, this could very well be the start of a new beginning.

-----

Standing outside of an all too familiar door, you knock before you can talk yourself out of it. You hear footsteps on the other side, and within seconds, the door swings open. Spencer stands in the doorway, looking as if he's seen a ghost. His mouth drops open and he blinks at you a few times.

"Can I come in?" You ask, knocking him out of his daze. He nods enthusiastically,

"Yes, of course." He opens the door wider for you and you step over the threshold.

The apartment is almost exactly how you left it. In fact, you see that your belongings are still on display. Your favorite blanket is draped over the couch, the rug you had picked out is splayed underneath the coffee table, and the artwork you had chosen still adorns the walls. You figured he would've thrown everything of yours out. He comes to stand beside you, watching your reaction as you take it all in.

"I couldn't bring myself to change anything. I hoped that one day you would come back." He says, looking down at you. The eyes that meet yours are the same ones that you looked to for comfort, all that time ago, and are now finding a new comfort from them.

"I figured it would all be gone." You admit and take one more look around. He shakes his head.

"Would you like some coffee? I have the blend from the shop down the street." Spencer offers, heading towards the kitchen. Your heart swells knowing that he still gets coffee from your favorite shop. He had never been the biggest fan of their particular blend, but he still got it because he knew it was your favorite. And it seems like he never stopped getting it.

"Yeah, that would be nice, thank you." As he walks off into the kitchen, you let yourself walk around to inspect the apartment some more. Your fingertips graze over the blanket on the couch and you notice that on the coffee table there's a book. But it's not just any book, it's the one you had been reading before that fateful night, and when you open it, you see that the bookmark is still there, left at the exact spot you had left off.

Spencer walks back into the room and sees you holding the book. He puts the coffee down on the table and licks his lips, watching as your eyes scan the page. You close the book and put it down, taking a spot on the couch. It's still just as comfortable as you remember. Wanting to enjoy the nostalgia and old comforts, you take your time sipping on the coffee, reminiscing.

"You know, I never thought I'd ever leave this place." You speak, looking out of the window, seeing traffic passing by. The last bit of coffee makes its way down your throat and you know you've stalled for long enough.

"I never wanted you to leave." Spencer says after a few moments of silence. You set the cup on the coffee table and look over at him. He's taken a spot on the opposite side of the couch. Your heartstrings tug and you begin questioning why this all had to happen in the first place.

"You told me you would give me all the time I needed." You start your well-rehearsed rhetoric, and he nods.

"As long as you need." His voice is soft and genuine. You feel your fingertips buzz with anxiety, and you pick at the seams of your pants, trying to alleviate the jittering.

"I've taken as long as I needed. Well, I've actually taken more time than I needed but I wanted to be sure of what I was choosing." You feel your hands start to shake, you're not sure why you're so nervous. This is your Spencer. But it feels like the first time meeting him all over again. His eyes are intently on you, studying every micro expression.

"And?" He swallows hard, eyes growing slightly wider. You break his gaze and look around the cozy apartment. This feels like home.

"And I feel like the last five years I've been wandering with no destination. I got a new job, new apartment, but it all felt temporary. And I was never sure why. I tried to replace everything, furniture, new books, all of it; but it never felt like mine." You explain, taking the long route to the point.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you. The energy between the two of you is practically buzzing with nervousness.

"But I guess what I'm trying to say is that this feels like home. Being here, with you, feels like home." Your bottom lip quivers as the words pass your lips. Thinking the words and saying they hold two very different gravities.

Spencer's shoulder visibly relax and he lets out a breath. He smiles widely at you, tears threatening to spill over onto his face. You feel your own eyes water, and the hole in your heart feels as if a little of it is mending.

"It doesn't feel like home without you." He says and crosses the couch, pulling you into his embrace.

The feeling of his arms around you causes the withheld tears to fall, dripping down your cheek and landing on his arms. It's almost surreal that this is happening. What you thought had lost, what had slipped away from you, is returning you and allowing you to begin again.

"I am so sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it, and I hope you know that. This doesn't even begin making up for any of it, but I will work every day to prove to you that I am better. I love you so much it hurts." Your heart swells at his words, and you know he means them. The way he's holding you is all the proof of authenticity you need.

"I love you too, I've missed you every single day." You tell him, voice breaking while you hold onto him tightly.

Your eyes close as you savor the feeling of him holding you. Spencer presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you look up at him with watery eyes.

The golden sunlight filtering in from the window illuminates his glistening honey eyes. Your hand comes up and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. Gently, your thumb caresses his cheekbone, appreciating his beauty up close once more.

When his eyes open, finding you staring back at him, it's like Spencer has his own gravitational pull. Before you know it, he's tucking your hair behind your ear and holding your face, bringing you closer to him. After five long years of waiting for this moment again, your lips finally meet his.

It's just like the first kiss you ever shared. You're nervous, but full of excitement for the future. You can't possibly imagine anything ending between the two of you again. And sure, it might take time to heal each other, but you're finally back home where you belong and that's good enough for now.

Spencer deepens the kiss, and you smile into it, already falling back into pattern with ease. It's like the two of you were made for each other; two halves of one whole.

When your lungs beg for oxygen, you break away from him with warm, swollen lips and rosy cheeks. Leaning your forehead against his, your adjust so that he's laying back against the armrest and your situated between his legs, your back to his chest.

There are no words to bring justice to the fullness you feel. The hole that was created when you walked out of that door is filling itself back in with each second you spend in his arms. You're content for the first time in a long time.

As you lean your head back against his chest, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this is just the beginning of a long, fulfilling life with Spencer. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your face, whispering to you that he loves you once more.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fandom #mgg #matthew gray gubler #Spotify

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m-jelly · 5 months

Note

Consider:

Post-War Levi running his teashop, which happens to be across the street from a bakery with the most beautiful owner he's ever seen. And so Gabi makes it her life's mission to help the two get together.

Sweet treat across the street.

Levi x fem!reader

Canon world, post war, tea shop owning Levi, baker reader, fluff, romance, falling in love, Gabi setting things up, becoming a couple.

Gabi has noticed that since Levi fully set up his tea shop, he has been gazing out the window watching you. She wants Levi to be happy and knows he is falling in love. So, she starts setting up a few things so the two of you become a couple.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

The way you smiled was so electrifying. The curves of your body are so alluring. As the sun shone on your hair it just sparkled. Everything about you was enchanting and perfect. Your lips were so plump and kissable. No matter how hard Levi tried, he couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you.

Gabi moved closer to Levi. "Levi?"

Levi dragged his eyes from you and looked at the young lady. "Mm? Something wrong?"

"Yes. I'm hungry for baked goods. Could you go buy some? I'll man the shop."

Levi's cheeks burned a deep red. "Mm...baked...goods..."

She grabbed the back of his chair and pushed. "Just a few things." She plopped a nice tin of tea on Levi's lap. "Maybe give her this." She hurried him outside. "Now go."

"Wh-what do I say?"

"Tell her she's sweet and pretty!"

He whined. "I can't say things like that."

Gabi walked around and faced Levi. "You have never liked anyone before. She's appeared out of nowhere and made you smile so much."

He smiled a little. "She's wonderful."

"You have to talk to her more. You've had lots of simple conversations with her, but you have to have more."

"I'll try my best."

She grinned. "Flirt with her. You've got this. You're the great Captain Levi! You love a girl, you go get her."

He nodded. "I will!"

She hurried back into the shop and smiled as Levi hesitated a moment before making his way over to you. "Go get her, Levi."

You walked out to a little girl, crouched down and gave her a little sweet bun with a cream filling. "It's on me. Enjoy, okay?"

She giggled. "Thank you!"

You looked up and felt your heart race. "Well, hello there Levi. How's business?"

Levi cleared his throat. "Good. H-How is it f-for you?"

"Really good." You pointed at the tea on his lap. "You want something sweet with that?"

"Is it you?" Levi went bright red at his words. "S-Sorry."

You giggled. "That was good."

"Y-Yeah?"

You hummed a laugh. "Come with me." You led the way into the shop and held the door open for him. You locked the door and turned the sign to closed. "It'll be just you and me. That okay?"

He smiled sweetly. "Y-Yes. I-I want that." He held up the tin. "F-for you!"

You took the tin and studied it. "Oh, this is amazing tea." You leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Levi locked eyes with you. "I want to kiss you." He put his head in his hands. "Sorry. I'm not good with my words."

"How am I supposed to kiss you when you cover your face up?"

Levi lowered his hands. "Wh-what?"

You knelt and leaned closer. "I have liked you for a while now. I was wondering if you liked me back. Now I know." You leaned all the way and lightly kissed him. "Would you like something sweet that isn't me?"

He laughed a little. "Please."

You stood up and waved him over. "This way. I'll get some tea and something freshly baked."

Levi stopped by the table and watched you get everything together. "You're really beautiful." He winced. "Sorry. I need to do better."

You sat down and held Levi's hand. "I think you're doing wonderful. You always get my heart racing."

"That's...that's good."

You giggled when he kissed the back of your hand. "So...shall we call this our first date?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes. So, umm...last time we chatted a bit...you were talking about a book you were reading. I read it and loved it."

You smiled brightly. "That's great! I knew we had a few things in common."

"We have a lot in common." He played with your hand and talked with you for hours, the two of you kept eating and drinking tea. Levi released a long sigh. "I keep getting lost in your eyes." He winced. "That was bad."

"It was cute." You leaned closer. "You're cute." You kissed him and hummed in happiness when he kissed back with a need. You smiled and lightly caressed his cheek. "Can I take you on a date tomorrow?"

Levi nodded. "I'd like that."

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denaliwrites · 6 months

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f i c m a s t e r l i s t

p o l i c i e s (please read before making requests!)

b a d s a m a r i t a n The Best of You, Honey, Belongs to Me Blackthorn Cover Myself in the Ashes of You Dumb Ways To Die Enough of You to Dull the Pain (18+) Hellbent Looking For A Godsend Hit Me With Your Best Shot I Got This Feeling On A Summer Day (18+) I'm Gooey in the Middle Baby Let Me Bake In His Eyes A Flaming Glow Intrigued and Afraid Keep You Like An Oath (18+) Killing Me Softly My Baby Shot Me Down (18+) Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy (18+) Only Touch That Gets Me Melting (18+) Run Rabbit Run (18+) Say My Name Send a Thousand Kings Away Shia Surprise Something Good to Celebrate Stop, Look and Listen, It's Halloween! Taste of a Poison Paradise Trust in Me, Just in Me With Your Scars and Your Lonely Heart Your Body's a Secret Girl and You're About to Spill It (18+)

t h e b o y s Watch That Butcher Burn

b r o a d c h u r c h Always Leave Me With a Hungry Heart Am I Doing This Right? An Art to Life's Distractions Beating Like A Kick Drum Catch & Release Girls Like Girls Like Boys Do It's Been a Long, Long Time Love's Perfect Ache Now and Again We Try to Just Stay Alive Regale You With A Gourd-geous Tale Say You'll Remember Me Say You'll Remember Me (Denali's Version) Tell Me It's A Nightmare

d o c t o r w h o Cuddle, Meet Puddle Cute Things Don't Blink (Part 1) Don't Turn Your Back (Part 2) Don't Look Away (Part 3) Dreams See Us Through (Part 4) Hate the Feeling of Falling Have a Holly Jolly Christmas Horrible Things Isn't That Wizard It's How I'm Made Let Me Come Home Little Creepy House On the Brave Shit The Origin of (Love Bug) Species What Beautiful Things I'll Wear When the Crypt Doors Creak You Know That I Would Jump Too

d u c k t a l e s Tales of Daring

g o o d o m e n s All I Want For Christmas Aziraphale's Favorite Author Dance on a Tightrope of Weird Free as My Hair His Love is All in Me How the Wine Plays Tricks on My Tongue Lockdown Blues Making Biscuits My Heart's a Stereo Naked in That Garden (18+) Out There Making DuckTales Pickin' Up the Pieces of the Mess You Made Road to Hell Something Meaty For The Main Course Step Too Far Tongue Tied Your Love is Holy (18+)

f a l l o f t h e h o u s e o f u s h e r Tomorrow I Shall Be Fetterless (18+)

f r i g h t n i g h t Emptiness to Melody Everybody Scream in Our Town of Halloween Fixed Up to the Nines Howl Like an Animal in the Darkness I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself (18+) I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin' Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (18+) Make Me Glow Night of Long Fangs (18+) Parade of Dancing Skeletons Talk So Pretty (18+) Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel? (18+)

h a u n t i n g o f b l y m a n o r ???

j u r a s s i c p a r k / w o r l d Best Behavior The Future Ex Mrs. Malcolm

p r o d i g a l s o n But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps Never Fallen From Quite This High Office Supplies Rude Boy They are the Hunters, We are the Foxes Trigger Happy With a Sense of Poise (18+)

#denali writes #masterlist #broadchurch #doctor who #good omens #fright night #bad samaritan #prodigal son #reader insert #fanfic #alec hardy x reader #tenth doctor x reader #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #peter vincent x reader #cale erendreich x reader #martin whitly x reader #michael sheen #david tennant

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 5: BTS bias wrecker - Jungkook✨️

To the victor

AN: Jungkook might just be my strongest bias wrecker, so this one hurts more than the others. This was supposed to be posted a while ago, but life was lifing. Either way, I hope you enjoy my suffering. (Also, I know next to nothing about boxing and boxing related injuries so, just walk with me here lmao.)

Synopsis: Jungkook lives to box. The ring is practically his home. However, watching him become all bruised and bloodied isn't exactly easy for his girlfriend, no matter how much he wins.

Heads up: Jeon Jungkook x Fem! Reader, established relationship, Non-Idol AU, Boxer! Jungkook, boxing (duh), mentions of bodily harm, mentions of blood, hurt and comfort elements, pretty fluffy overall tbh, dry humping, hair pulling, nipple play (f. receiving), facesitting, unprotected piv sex and creampie.

Word count: 2867

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You wouldn't be surprised to find blood on your hands from how deeply your nails are sinking into your skin at the moment. Your heart hammering against your chest as you watch Jungkook dodge another punch from Mingyu like it was nothing.

Kim Mingyu is no small man. From the bruises that are already beginning to form across your boyfriend's torso, you know his hits carry a great deal of weight behind them. Still, Jungkook has that gleam in his eyes. He's going to win. No matter what, he is going to walk out of this ring as the winner.

An opportunity presents itself when Mingyu leaves himself wide open and, Jungkook wastes no time landing a painful looking blow to the larger man's ribcage. You even can't help but, cringe just watching the impact. Mingyu falters and that's when Jungkook unleashes a barrage of hits so quick that neither his opponent nor the audience could keep up with. While Mingyu has raw strength, Jungkook is faster and his hits, while not carrying the same impact as the other man's, are nothing to scoff at.

Sometimes, in the quietest corners of your mind, it scares you to see the person he becomes in the ring. He's unyielding and brutal. Not stopping until his opponents are bloodied heaps on the floor of the ring. Sometimes you struggle to reconcile the man in the ring with the man who still gets too shy to tell you he loves you at times.

Relief. A feeling that's fast become your confidant over the past three years courses through you when Mingyu finally falls and the bell rings out. The cheers of the crowd are deafening but, all you can focus on is him. Jungkook turns to you, blood smeared on his jaw and sends you the brightest smile. "I won," he mouths only for you to see.

This is probably the second worst part. Watching the medic patch him up. When all of the adrenaline is gone and, you can only watch helplessly as the aches and pains and throbs settle themselves deeply into his very bones.

"You're very lucky, Mr Jeon. Fortunately you only have two cracked ribs and some tissue damage," the medic says, finishing the tightening of the gauze around his torso. He winces but, otherwise seems to be taking this all well.

"Thank you, Siyeon," he says sincerely, as you two watch her pack up her equipment.

"No worries. Just be careful, your ribs can only take so much more damage,"

"Yeah, I know," he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

The silence is poignant when you two are left alone. A frown marring your face as you take in the nasty bruises across his torso, even with Siyeon's expertise. The bruise on his face and his raw knuckles not helping to ease your concerns either.

"You're upset," he mutters, tired brown eyes meeting your own.

"I'm not upset. I'm just...I'm just worried," you respond, leaning against his locker.

"Is there much of a difference?" He smiles but, there's no joy or humour behind it. You hate taking away any of his happiness from a win. It's not fair. Especially when he's the one who got his shit rocked.

"I'm sorry. It's really hard watching you in there sometimes but, I'll be fine. You deserve to celebrate tonight,"

"Come here,"

You blink at him but, he watches you patiently. You're not sure what he's thinking but, regardless, you make your way over to him. Completely caught off guard when he pulls you into his lap.

"Hey, a warning would've been nice!"

"You need a warning to be on my lap?"

If he wasn't injured you'd punch him.

You soften when he laughs. Full and happy and, a much better expression than the sullen one from moments ago.

"Thank you for worrying about me," he says once he calms, the intensity of his gaze warming your face considerably.

"You don't need to thank me for that,"

"No, I do. I think with all the wins it's easy to forget sometimes how much all of this makes you feel. I know you know that boxing is my life but, that doesn't mean your feelings don't matter to me. I know it would twist my heart all the time seeing you in my position,"

For a man who's usually not the best with his words, he sure does know when to make you feel overwhelmed when he wants to.

"It's just hard sometimes, Kookie. I think today was just a really, really hard day but, you did such a great job. I'm so proud of you," you breathe, cupping his jaw and pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

"I think hearing you say that means more to me than any sized cheque or trophy ever could," he responds while his fingers draw patterns you can't decipher along your hips.

"Are you just trying to make me cry tonight?" You ask with a joking scowl on your face, the weight on your chest so much lighter now.

His dimples make an appearance from how hard he grins at you, "Maybe."

Getting home after a fight is always a mission and a half. Usually, Jungkook isn't too badly injured but, the two of you have to be careful and sometimes you need to help him manoeuvre his way around.

"I'm fine," he says as you two make your way to your front door.

"Yeah, that's why you're hunching over right now. Totally fine," you mutter, fumbling with your keys momentarily before finally stepping into your apartment. Jungkook limping after you.

"Okay, I'm mostly fine," he responds, heading to your bedroom.

You try your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes, "Do you need anything or do you want to head straight to bed?"

"Nah, I'm good. I cleaned up after the fight and Siyeon said she patched me up for the night so, I should be fine," he yells.

Honestly, you don't blame him. You're pretty exhausted too and you weren't even the one in the ring.

After making sure your door was locked, all your windows were securely shut and all of the lights were turned off, you join him. Air stills in your lungs as you take in the sight of him in nothing but, his boxers. Worry and anxiety had been clouding your mind earlier but, to say Jungkook is hot would be the understatement of the decade. Even with all his current injuries and scars from past fights sprinkled across his body, he's a sight to behold.

"I thought you'd be asleep," you say in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the lecherous thoughts taking hold of your mind.

"I think I have too much left over energy," he sighs, large hands dragging along his muscular thighs. Focus. You need to focus. He's injured. Now isn't the time.

"Oh, do you have thoughts of how to get rid of it maybe?"

Anticipation and white hot desire coil in your gut when his gaze turns heavy and mischievous, "I can think of a few ways."

"Jungkook," you chastise, ignoring the dull ache building at the juncture of your thighs, "You're hurt. We can't."

"We can just be extra careful. Besides, don't you want to celebrate my win tonight with me?"

This man.

You'd be a bold faced liar if you said you didn't want him right now. Maybe that's what prompts you into succumbing to your baser instincts without much more of an argument. You pointedly ignore the smug grin that's spread across his face when you settle yourself in his lap.

"You're so annoying," is all the warning you give him before your mouth is on his. The kiss is frenzied and desperate from the offset. Hands running along each other's bodies needily, his settling on your hips and dragging you along his hardening cock while your own tug and fist at his hair.

He does have a way of bringing out the most desperate parts of you.

"We still have to be careful," you mutter, shivers running down your spine from the hot, open-mouthed kisses he pressed along your jaw and throat. His large hands snaking their way down to grab generous hanfuls of your ass.

"You worry too much," he pulls back enough to respond, smiling against your skin when you squirm in his hold as he lightly nips at your sensitive skin.

"You don't worry enough," you're impressed by your ability to quip back fast enough considering how quickly muddled your mind is becoming. Moaning when he finds your clit through your respective clothing, your panties sticking to you.

"Maybe you're right," he responds with glint to his usually soft eyes, tugging your shirt off of you so quickly that you barely have time to process what happened.

"But, life's too short," he finishes, glazed eyes intensely taking in the vision you make in just your bra.

His skillful fingers waste little time. Getting you out of your bra in what you're sure is record time and enveloping one of your hardened nipples in his warm, wet mouth. You're not sure who moans louder. Your nails biting into his biceps as he all but, crushes you to him. Losing himself in your tits while the two of you grind against each other to find any relief you can.

"Jung-Kookie ah," you cry out from a particularly hard suck. Goosebumps rising on your skin when he playfully runs his teeth along your nipple. His eyes meeting yours through his messy bangs while he continues to suckle on you to his satisfaction.

"I want you to sit on my face," are the first words out of his mouth when he unlatches himself with an obsence pop.

"I forget how demanding you can be on nights when you win," you laugh breathlessly, cupping his jaw in your hands and kissing him more gently than before. The two of you savouring each other and letting unadulterated affection be your guide.

Jungkook is about to whine when you pull away and get off of his lap, but his words quickly die on his tongue as he watches you wiggle out of your shorts and panties. His cock throbbing harshly in the confines of his boxers while he drinks your nudity in.

"Well? What're you waiting for?" You ask with a quirk of your eyebrow. Biting back a smirk at the mystified look on his pretty face.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he says, shifting upwards and laying on his back. Restless hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

It feels nice to leave him a little flustered and desperate for once.

Jungkook's eyes are laser focused between your thighs when you shift to straddle his face, understandably so. You're beyond wet for him, and based on the way his lips part and his impatient hands grip your thighs and drag you onto his face, he's more than ready for this too.

The first lap of his expert tongue at your clit forces a moan louder than you anticipated out of you. Your shaky hands clutching your headboard for some semblance of stability as Jungkook licks and sucks and kisses with increasing frequency and intensity. The vibrations from his quiet moans and chest deep groans only serving to add to the toe-curling pleasure, rendering your body slack above him.

His hands move you on his tongue. Helping you ride his handsome face and, his tongue lapping out as much of your wetness as he can in his current position while his nose stimulates your sensitive clit. All you can do is mindlessly grind against his face and take everything he's willing to give you. Your orgasm building and the knot in your core growing increasingly tight with every flick of his tongue and nudge of his nose.

It's all over for you when he forces you against his tongue, hard. His fingers harshly gripping your plush thighs as he sucks and licks at your clit. All muddled mix of his name and moans and pleas fall from your lips while you ride out your release. Jungkook doesn't relent in the slightest. Continuing to tongue at you through it all, even when one of your hands drifts downwards to entangle itself in his luscious hair.

"Kookie, too-too much," you whine, using what minimal energy you have left to move off of his face. Shaky thighs supporting you as you hover above him.

Even though you quite literally just came, a flushed Jungkook covered in your release certainly could get you there once more if you pushed hard enough. He blinks up at you as if to escape some sort of trance he was in. Tongue poking out to lick up whatever traces of you he can.

"I wasn't done," he complains, his eyes on full bunny mode and his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Light reflecting off of his piercing.

You roll your eyes, moving off of him altogether, "Well, I was. It was getting to be too much."

If you'd let him, Jungkook would happily spend the entire night with you over him. Forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you're close to blacking out. However, you think you're both too tired for all of that tonight. Even if he'd disagree.

Before he can complain further, you lean down to kiss him. Smiling into him when he gasps as your hand leisurely runs down his muscular chest. Palming him over his boxers, your walls throbbing, and the painful feeling of emptiness beginning to settle in. Maybe you can muster a little more energy.

Jungkook watches you in a daze. Realisation settling in when you hurriedly pull down his boxers and, his flushed cock slaps against his toned abdomen.

"Still complaining?" You tease, looking down at him. Taking him in your hand and reveling in the visible quiver you see run along his body.

"No," he groans, "Please,"

Fuck. He's so fucking unfair. How could you ever say no to him when he sounds like that?

Your lashes flutter, and you grit your teeth when you begin to sink down onto him. The stretch is borderline overwhelming but, so deliriously good that you soldier through. Your hands resting on him for purchase while you gain your bearings.

Jungkook, for his part, seems to be struggling just as much as you if his hold on your hips is any indication. Quiet moans reaching your ears when you he's fully sheathed inside of you. God, he always fills you so deliciously. Nestled so deeply inside of you that it makes your head fuzzy.

"Kookie," you chastise with little bite behind your words when he fucks up into you.

"Sorry, can't help it," he groans, his cock pulsing inside of you as the two of you remain unmoving.

"Always so impatient," you tease, slowly rising off of him before sinking back down. Your eyes rolling into the back of your skull from the earthshattering pleasure that courses through you.

Fortunately, it doesn't take you long to find your rhythm from there. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your combined sounds of pleasure ringing out throughout your bedroom.

He always looks so beautiful underneath you like this. His inky locks sticking to his sweaty forehead, a faint blush colouring his cheeks with his lips parted. His glassy eyes taking in every part of you can.

"I love you," you mutter, leaning down to kiss him. It's messy and all spit and tongue, but you couldn't care less. Your rhythm growing increasingly sloppy as your second orgasm creeps up on you. One of your hands reaching between your overheated bodies in search of your clit.

"I love you too," he moans, his hands helping you along. A breathy 'fuck' falling from his bruised lips when your slick walls tighten around him. Practically begging for him to cum inside of you.

Jungkook forces you onto his cock when his orgasm slams into him. Your name and a symphony of groans all he seems to be capable of. You wouldn't be surprised if there were bruises on your hips in the morning.

Between the sensation of his thick, warm cum flooding your pussy, your fingers drawing frenzied patterns on your clit and watching his face contort in pleasure, it's no wonder your own release is triggered.

It takes everything in you not to just collapse onto him. Your muddied brain somehow still aware of all of his injuries. You both shudder as you gradually move off of him. Your combined releases leaking down your thighs and, likely smearing your sheets but, you're too tired to think about cleaning up right now.

"Come here," he mutters sleepily, making grabby hands at you.

If only everyone could see their champion now, you muse. Nuzzling into his side and wrapping your arm around his waist lightly. Trying your hardest not to aggravate any of his injuries any further.

He melts into you. Not taking long to slip into slumber, the slow rise and fall of his chest a welcome sight. It has been a long day, after all, and even the greatest need their rest.

#jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #1k followers celebration day 5 #1k followers celebration #1k followers milestone

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Hungry Like the Wolf - Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Remus is gifted an alternative potion to Wolfsbane near the full moon, meant to convert the magic of his transformation into energy. But the run you expect him to go on to burn some of the energy off isn't as much of a jog as it is a chase, and you're the one he's after. // sorry mom for writing smut to a song from a band you like.. god willing you never find this 🫡

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), p in v, p in v from the back, oral sex (f receiving), bondage, predator/prey dynamics (everything is consensual), overstimulation, lots of wolf metaphors and language, remus is not in his wolf form, he is human

WC: 5.8K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

James is incredibly skilled at potions. You’ve known this since first year, since he rivaled Severus himself, and he only got better with age and lessons. Now he’s a master, but he’s set aside his talents to take care of his wife and son. Honorable, of course, but it makes you wonder what he could be if he tried his hand again at the cauldron.

He’d given you a taste of his skill last night, presenting Remus with a little bottle of purplish ooze at your weekly dinner.

“‘S an alternative to wolfsbane,” He’d explained, a hand sheepishly clinging to the back of his neck and scratching at his chocolate curls there, “It’s supposed to channel all of the transformative magic into energy. So you’ll stay human, but you’ll be, like, bouncing off the walls.”

Wolfsbane is appreciated, but seriously lacking as a solution. Remus still has to endure the cracking of his bones, the tearing of his skin, the self-destruction every month, so for James to cook up a remedy that made Remus almost normal, well… your big bad boyfriend had shed a tear or two.

“Okay,” You exhale, a loud sigh in the silence of the shack you chain Remus up in every full moon, “Give it a test, Rem.”

He strains his wrists, veins popping under his tan, scarred skin. Nothing there. Then his ankles, he flexes his calves and tugs hard at the restraints, but nothing gives.

“Perfect.” You wish you could grin at the satisfactory results, but chaining your boyfriend up for reasons other then sex is nothing you’re too happy about.

“If the potion doesn’t work,” Remus rasps, voice gruff from the heavy light of the moon outside, “You should be safe with me chained. And if it does work, you can let me go. ‘Spose I’ll just go for a run or something, Prongs said it would make me hyper.”

“Alright,” You nod, leaning in to kiss his soft, smooth temple. He leans into the affection with a strained smile, eyes on the purple bottle in your hands.

“Bottoms up,” You grin warily, raising the narrow-necked flask to Remus’s lips. As soon as he purses his lips around the mouth you tip the vial down his throat, purple ooze gone in a flash. It doesn’t taste good, if the immediate grimace that scrunches Remus’s nose and purses his lips is any evidence to go by.

“Christ,” The man dry heaves, and you smear a dollop of the substance away from the corner of his mouth, “Oh, god, I think Prongs shit in that bottle and charmed it purple.”

“Oh,” You recoil at the thought, smearing the ooze off of your skin with Remus’s discarded shirt, “Well that’s lovely. How long to transformation?”

“If this doesn’t work,” Remus pants, scar-littered chest heaving, “A few minutes. Go on, dove, wait outside. If you hear howling, go back home and come get me in the morning.”

“Okay,” You reluctantly rise, brushing your knees off from where they’d been slowly sinking into the soft earth beneath you, “Good luck. Love you, Rem. Be safe, please try not to scratch over that cut on your thigh; it hasn’t healed right.”

“Can’t help it,” Remus groans, head ducking as his stomach begins churning. He’s starting to think that maybe James isn’t as good at potions as you’ve all been thinking, and that he’ll start morphing any second now, He lets out a sharp cry, jaw tightening as he clenches it and squeezes his eyes shut, “Go, dove, now!”

You don’t need to be told twice. You rush for the door of the shack, swinging it shut behind you and praying the worn hinges don’t just snap. You lean your back to the door, waiting, listening as Remus feels either the effects of the potion, or the effects of the moon. Whichever one it is, something is happening to him.

There’s a string of groans, moans, and everything in between, and you’ve never been present for a transformation of his (strict orders from the man himself), but you’re sure that’s what’s happening. You hear the chains rattle as he strains against them, and you’re praying he doesn’t manage to snap them in a burst of wolfish rage.

Then the noise dies down, and eerie silence falls over the forest. You’re still leaned up against the door, and every rustle of the wind through the trees or mouse through the bushes has your stomach flipping in fear.

Apparently though, you shouldn’t be worried about what’s in front of you, more what’s behind you.

The knob your hand is still draped over turns, and you’re ripping yourself away from the door with a terrified gasp. The door swings open behind you, and there Remus stands, human, but- not.

He’s human-sized, human-shaped, but something isn’t right with his eyes. They’re darker than normal, more dilated, and he’s staring hard at you with a tight jaw while his bare chest heaves.

His shoulders are illuminated by the soft, warm light of the shack that’s spilling through the door but his face- his scarred face is shining solely in moonlight. It bathes him, drapes him where clothes don’t, and makes the dark abyss of his eyes shine.

“Remus,” You breathe, an uncertain whisper in the night air.

He doesn’t answer.

His eyes, still pools of darkness, with the slightest rim of his familiar chocolate brown around the edge, rake slowly down your form. You’re only clad in a drafty nightgown, ready to either run back to bed at the sound of a wolf, or wave goodbye to Remus from your window as he jogged away. You hadn’t expected this, whatever it is.

“Remus-” You try again, watching as his eyes gradually reach your face again. Before you can get the last letter out, before you can fully taste his name on your tongue, his eyes snap to yours and narrow infinitesimally.

“Run.”

Your body understands before your brain does, and your leg moves backwards to plant your foot somewhere behind you. But you linger, “What?”

He lunges for you, hands outstretched, “Run,” and you blanche.

A noise comes out of your throat that can’t be categorized as you whirl on your feet. You suppose it’s somewhere between a shriek and a gasp, but it’s warbled as your lungs take in more air than they’re letting out. Despite it all, your chest heaves, and your feet ache as you slap them against the forest floor. Remus isn’t a particularly fast runner, he smokes too much to be able to breathe well, but whatever’s chasing you is more than Remus. You’ve never seen Remus this intense before, you’re not sure he’s even in there. You don’t know what James has concocted, but you’re going to have a long list of notes ready when he asks for a report.

Your skin is on fire, almost like Remus has already caught you. You hadn't bothered to look anywhere but those eyes, and you fear the worst; long, gnarled wolf fangs on his fingertips and razor sharp canines over his tongue. You can hear him inches behind you, he could reach out and snatch you if he tried, but he doesn’t. You realize with a sick sense of despair that he’s chasing you for fun, that you’re his prey and he’s letting you have the illusion of escape. You can’t outrun him, he’ll always be a few steps behind. You hear his breath, and if you concentrate you can feel its ghost on the back of your neck as you sprint through the woods. It’s slower, more even than your erratic gasps, the heave of your chest making you lightheaded.

You don’t know which way you’re running anymore, but there’s nothing for miles. No gas station you can beg for help in, no nearby farm where you can distract Remus with a lone sheep. It’s just trees, trees that you can’t climb before he reaches you.

The crack of his feet against twigs, leaves, and all in between slows slightly, and you know it’s not because he can’t keep up. He doesn’t even sound out of breath, and you’re terrified at the thought that he could outrun you by miles and you wouldn’t stand a chance. Now he’s several steps behind, and tears brim at your eyes, hopeful ones that beg for the possibility that he’s been distracted by some wildlife.

Soon enough, his presence fades away altogether. You don’t dare look back, you’re terrified of seeing the face of the man you love contorted, twisted by the purple potion into something dark and predatory; something hungry.

When you’re absolutely sure he’s not there anymore, and only the sounds of the forest surround you, chirping crickets and wind howling like a chilling reminder of the moon above, you slow down, immediately hunched over your knees to try and catch your breath. There’s no movement but your own, the great rise and fall of your chest and the sagging of your shoulders. You don’t recognize the part of the woods you’ve come to, and you bite back tears as you realize that your best hope is climbing a tree and waiting until morning.

There’s one to your left that looks good for climbing. The branches are low hanging and you could probably pull yourself up enough to have a bird’s eye view of the forest so that you can watch for Remus.

Then there’s the snap of a twig behind you, and your stomach plummets. You whirl around to press your back against the trunk of the tree, eyes wide as they scan the forest in front of you. You see nothing, not a sign of life in sight, so you edge around the tree, chin touching your shoulder as you check your side view. When you’ve scanned your left adequately, and found nothing out of order, you turn your head to the right, and there he is.

He’s standing an inch away from you, dark eyes fully lit by the moon. You scream loud enough to send birds fleeing from their trees, and he lunges for your open mouth. Your panicked shout turns into a warbled cry as he kisses you hard, tongue nearly gagging you as he seems determined to make you swallow it.

His hands have an iron grip on your waist as he looms over you, and you struggle to push and shove at his shoulders for a breath. It’s only when he moves on, leaving his tongue outstretched as he drags it from your mouth to your jaw that you can breathe.

“Remus!” You cry, struggling to escape his grip, ‘No, no- please! Please let me go, I- I don’t know what James made you but please, it’s me! Don’t hurt me, Remus please don’t hurt me, I-”

His hand snakes up your throat to clamp over your mouth. The tears that had beaded in your eyes are flowing down your cheeks now as you shake with a sob, and the clear liquid trickles over his scarred skin.

“Dove,” He murmurs, hot and wet into your neck, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You’re only able to manage a confused whimper from behind his heavy hand, but he licks a stripe along your jaw and bumps the tip of his nose into the bridge of your own.

“Did you think I was going to hurt you?” He asks, breath fanning over your cheek. You nod, still wary, and he coos in sympathy, lips pressing to your skin.

“No, darling.” He promises, and the grip he has on your waist that’s pinning you to the tree seems a lot less sinister now, “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have let you run.” He dips his nose to your neck, takes in a breath, a drag of your scent that flows through his veins like ecstasy if the shuddering exhale he releases over your skin is any evidence.

“No,” He lets out a wry chuckle, mouthing once more at your neck, “I wanted a chase. I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to eat you, dove. And then I’m going to fuck you. Do you understand?”

He uncovers your mouth so that you can answer him, and you let out a sharp gasp, “Remus, I- What?”

“He said energy,” Remus pants, still licking at your neck like it’s coated in ambrosia. He breaks away with a heavy groan, like it’s a monumental feat to tear himself away from your skin, “James said, it’ll be converted into energy. Well it was.”

He gestures to his torso, and your eyes travel down his scarred chest until they reach- oh god.

Shit, he’s hard. Like, painfully, achingly, astoundingly hard, his cock so erect that it’s curved up towards his belly and already leaking precum. Your mouth falls open and you swear it lines itself with drool, your chest still heaving from the adrenaline of the moment.

“I’m on fire,” Remus pants, head downturned, hands in fists as his side to keep from touching you. The veins in his hands pop and his arms tremble with the force of his grip. You catch a hollow, empty feeling below your belly at the sight.

“I’m- I can’t control it, I need- I need something,” He grunts, snapping his head up so that he can meet your eyes, “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

“Remus, I- I don’t-”

“Tell me!” He roars, eyes wide as he breathes heavy, “I need to know now, Y/N. Yes or no?”

“Yes!” You nod vigorously, eyes fixated on his twitching, leaking cock, “Yes, Remus, I want this.”

He reaches for the skirt of your nightgown with a swift hand, and in one fluid motion, it’s torn off of you. Your breath hitches in shock as your back suddenly hits the bark of the tree behind you, and Remus bunches your nightgown into a strip of fabric.

“Hands up,” He instructs, and as you’re fumbling to process his words and comply, he repeats it, “Hands up!”

“I am! I am,” You gush, arms shaking as you hold them above your head, “Remus, what are you-?”

“Around the tree,” He instructs, gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to the side with it. You stumble as he manhandles you, but manage to catch yourself in the soft earth below while he puts one of your wrists on either side of the tree branch above you.

He makes quick work of your wrists, tying one end of the nightgown to your right wrist, then slinging it over the tree branch and securing the other end to your free wrist. It means that you’re hanging from the tree by your wrists, your feet just barely still touching the ground.

“Remus,” You whimper, squirming in the cool night air. You feel much too exposed, breasts lit by the moon and panties the only thing stopping you from being completely naked. But when Remus steps back to admire his work, something inside of your stomach begins to coil at his blackened eyes.

He drops to his knees and they hit the ground with a dull thump. The ghostly fire you’d felt from the thought of his touch before was now pleasurable instead of painful. Now you ache for him, a heavy gush of slick already gathering behind the fabric of your panties.

It’s no surprise that Remus zeroes in on the lacy material. He starts mid-thigh, pressing his nose into your flesh like he’s trying to drill a hole there.

“Mm,” He groans, mouth opening to press haphazardly to your skin. He grunts into your flesh, fingers rising to squeeze at your skin.

“Smell so fucking good,” He rasps, his voice gruff from the effort it’s taken him to restrain himself, “God, what- whatever James put into this stuff didn’t stop my senses from heightening. Fuck, it’s like- hnngh,” He licks a fat, wet, hot stripe up your thigh, flicking his tongue into the crease of its base, “‘Never tasted you like this before, dove.”

“Remus,” You whimper, squirming in your restraints, trying to force yourself lower to meet his tongue at your thigh, “Please, please hurry.”

“I- mmf,” Remus’s nose presses against the hood of your clit, lips ghosting over the fabric covering your slit, “Dove, I can smell you, I can smell how wet you are. I can smell it, fuck, dripping, pooling in your cunt. I-” He lunges for the hem of your panties with his teeth, snagging the fabric on his canines and tearing it off of you, “I need to taste you, darling.”

Apparently he’s done savoring you. His teasing touches and slow buildup are nowhere to be seen, now he leads with his tongue and jams it into your cunt with almost no warning. Your thighs jerk at the sudden intrusion, but once you get them back in place you try sinking down ont his face with what little give your restraints give you.

“Oh! Oh, Remus,” You shriek, your exhale laced with a gluttonous moan as Remus’s tongue laps at your slick, “Oh, god, you feel so good.”

“You taste amazing,” He marvels, speaking with his face buried so far in your cunt that you think you feel the words more than you hear them. They crawl up your spine, thrumming through your blood and lodging themselves into your brain, only egging on the pleasure rolling through your core.

Remus’s tongue is eager and rough, his mouth alive as he ravages you from below. You feel the scrape of his teeth against your clit, and the sensation is so jarring that you nearly snap the branch above you from how hard you straight against your restraints. He has no boundaries, no limits, no control as he sucks you dry, tongue running over and over and over again through your folds to lick up any last drop of slick that your cunt is still pouring eagerly. He drags a tongue full of the stuff to your clit, smearing and covering the sensitive bud in your slick. From there, when it’s coated and dripping, he sucks it dry, tongue bobbing against the bundle of nerves so desperately that you squeeze your thighs around his face.

He seems to realize that you’re uncomfortable now, with the way you’re struggling so hard to bring him in impossibly closer. He doesn’t need to think twice before he grabs the backs of your thighs, nails digging into the soft, pillowy flesh of your ass.

He spreads your legs further, wrapping them around his head and throwing them over his shoulders. It means he can attack your cunt from a new angle, nose grinding against your clit as he makes out with your hot, wet pussy.

He’s insatiable, sucking slick out of your cunt that it hasn’t even produced yet. His tongue runs wet and eager over the most sensitive parts of your body, and flicks impossibly far into your hole, squelching obscenely as he tongue-fucks you.

“Fuck,” He growls, the animalistic sound sending a shiver up your spine as he hauls you further against his face, smashing his nose and tongue even further into you. His words are spoken into your cunt and his lips, tongue, and teeth all grate against your folds, the humming vibrations of his voice nearly sending you over the edge.

“Cum,” He snarls, demanding and rough. He fucks his tongue into you relentlessly, nose providing constant stimulation to your clit as it bobs against the nub, “Cum! Cum on my face,” He orders, and you let his words fuel the blaze of pleasure that’s burning hot and wild at your core, “I want to eat your cum, dove, now.”

The last word tapers out into a raspy growl, a gruff edge to his voice that makes it final. You let the coil that’s been slowly tightening below your belly finally burst, and you cum just as voraciously as he’s been eating you out the entire time.

You feel like you’ve squirted, but you can’t tell for sure, because his mouth is sucking the cum out of you before it can go anywhere. There’s no splatter on his face because his mouth is latched tight to your cunt, lips suctioned so that your release shoots into his mouth like his does so often in yours.

He grunts and groans viciously into your pussy as he licks you clean, tongue lapping over every available inch of your cunt until you’re sure it’s got no remnant of your slick or your final release. If his saliva wasn’t replacing your slick, you’re sure you’d be dried out by now, completely sucked void of all of your wetness.

When he’s milked every last taste of your cum out of your folds, he growls in frustration. It’s a huffy sort of sound, and your cunt is already tingling with the prospect of your next release.

He pushes your shoulders off of him and in one fluid motion, stands and lunges for your wrists. He knocks his face into your own to do so, and you have to lean back to take a breath when he kisses you because he’s such a presence.

His tongue is just as eager in your mouth as it was in your cunt, and you can taste your own release on him. He licks up your own tongue, groaning as he nips lightly at your bottom lip and smooths over it with a sweet lap of his tongue. You beg for more in the way that you tip your face up into his own, and you feel him wrestling with your nightgown where it’s tied around your wrists. He kisses more aggressively the harder he strains to blindly untie you, and when he finally loses his patience, he growls down your throat.

“Fuck,” He snaps, abandoning the careful grip he has on each side of the knot and tearing the fabric in two instead. Apparently his senses weren’t the only thing still heightened, it seems that his strength is above average as well.

“Run,” He pants into your mouth as you nearly fall to the ground. Your thighs are shaky, and you don’t think you can move them, but when he grips your jaw and snarls again against your lips, “Run.”, you force them to support you.

It feels like deja vu, sprinting away from Remus in the forest, but this time it’s better. Because this time you’re content with, aroused by your role as his prey, and the predatory presence behind you makes your cunt leak.

It’s another round of chase, and you can actually feel his heat behind you. It’s in the breaths that fan over the back of your neck, and as they fade away you realize he’s letting you have the illusion of escape once more. He’s too close to hide, your flight is fruitless.

Now he’s stalking you, as you slow down in a clearing. He’s hunted you down, he’s tracked you through the trees and he’s got you trapped. He’s the perfect predator; cunning, sharp, hungry.

A sudden noise from your left makes you sprint to your right, and you’re tackled only three steps away. You feel Remus collide with you and only his hands shield your bare back from the messy earth beneath you, but you’re not sure you’d be able to feel the scrape of a twig against your skin even if he hadn’t put his hands there, because his cock is already inside of you.

He doesn’t give you any time to process your takedown before he’s jackhammering into you, cockhead nudging at your slit before you’d even hit the ground. He’s got you locked in, and you shout at the unexpected, but pleasurable intrusion.

“Remus!” You scream, shaky legs wrapping around him by instinct. Eating you out without giving himself any stimulation must have been torture, because his cock is so hard you think you could snap it off if you bent it wrong.

It’s pounding your pussy, Remus is thrusting so fast and so deep into you that you think it might burst through your insides and tear you apart. He’s fucking like a rabbit - hard and fast - but you think you’re technically his as the big bad wolf destroys you.

His tongue had loosened you, and you’d accumulated more slick during the hunt that’s squelching and sloshing around his stiff dick. He’s leaking precum, a steady ooze of the stuff that gets driven into your cunt as he fucks roughly into you. He’s close to his own release already, the buildup of licking out your pussy having gotten him plenty aroused. His dick is already twitching inside of you, and your steady cries through the night air as his hips slap against yours, balls hitting the globes of your ass, only egg him on further.

You swear he howls when he cums. It’s a long, loud, haunting sound that he pumps into your neck, his teeth gnawing at your skin like he’s the wolf you thought you’d escaped from.

You can feel him biting at your shoulder as he fucks his orgasm into you, cum spurting from the head of his cock and painting your insides, gushing out around his length as he pounds you. You’re like a ragdoll in his grip, your body shaking with the force of his thrusts.

“Remus, Remus, Remus!” You chant, mouth barely able to form the words as you fight back open-mouthed screams. Your throat feels sore at how loud you’re screaming, how intensely the force of his thrusts are rocking you back and forth on the forest floor, and when he’s milked his orgasm dry, he gives you no warning before flipping you over.

His heightened strength really comes in handy as he lifts you effortlessly from the ground below him, and flips you onto your stomach. It’s a movement you’re not ready for, and your arms barely catch you from face-planting into the forest floor.

“Remus!” You shriek, his name like a mantra as he butts his hips up against your ass. You’re worried he’ll try fucking your ass without easing you open first, but he plunges straight for your cunt again, this time from the back.

You’re sensitive, of course, from not only your first orgasm but the way Remus had just ravaged your sloppy cunt, and your second orgasm is fast approaching. From this angle, Remus’s cockhead slams against your clit for a few thrusts before he slots it into your leaking cunt, and the repeated pressure that slaps your clit has you already cresting.

“Oh, god!’ You cry, head hung so close to the earth that you can smell the dirt inches from your face. Your thighs are trembling as Remus’s cock fucks through them, and you cum with fire spreading through your veins. He feels the constant convulsions of your cunt spasming with your orgasm, squeezing his cock as pleasure pulses through your folds. You’re screaming, or at least, you think you are, but you can’t tell, because your hearing cuts out for a moment.

When it comes back, Remus is grunting hot and heavy into the back of your neck, teeth once more digging into your skin. Apparently there’s still some animalistic urge in him to bite, to prey, to devour.

His cock is barely less stiff now that he’s fucked through his first orgasm, but apparently the feeling of you cumming around him is already leading him to a second. He’s impossibly horny, skin shining with sweat under the pale moonlight above that drips onto your back from his hairline. He licks it away, moaning at the salty taste and smearing it into your skin.

You cum in tandem, because your orgasm leads his on, then his slams another straight into you. You’ve never cum twice in a row this fast before, you’ve always had a moment to breathe, but apparently Remus can fuck two out of you in a minute straight if he tries.

Your core is ablaze, white hot pain curled into crawling tendrils of pleasure sticking to your insides and climbing your nerves. They overload your senses so much with burning bliss that your arms give out and your cheek slams hard into the dirt beneath you. It would hurt, if you weren’t so overwhelmed by sensations elsewhere.

He fucks his second orgasm through your third, gripping your hips and driving his cock so far into you that your vision starts darkening.

“Remus!” You sob, injecting your cry with as much of the pleasure coursing through your veins as possible, shouting out to the night that he’s responsible for your undoing. You slump tired and spent onto the dirt below you but Remus is still fucking out his own orgasm, dick twitching and shooting loads of cum into your gaping cunt.

He only slows when his cock starts going numb from the friction of your hot cunt, and he pants against the back of your neck while slathering the skin there in an array of sloppy, messy kisses. Finally he drops, landing on his side in the dirt and staring at your fucked-out face

“Oh, dove,” He pants, chest heaving harder than yours had been after being chased, “Fuck, you were- hnngh, are you okay?”

He watches your eyes drift shut, unconsciousness tugging hard at your mind. Your body is so overstimulated that it shuts down, and you nod weakly, “Mhm, jus’- jus’ tired, Rem.”

“Yeah,” He chuckles weakly, eyes marginally less dark than when he’d hunted you through the woods. Now he knocks his nose into your own, something so similar to a wolfish display of affection that you’re surprised he hasn’t sprouted fur.

“Catch me,” You beg, feeling your knees close to giving out, skin creased by the outlines of leaves and dirt, “Catch me, Rem, please-”

“I’ve got’cha,” He soothes, throwing an arm around your middle to tug you into his side. You’re covered in sweat, and your arms and shins are lined with muck from the forest floor, but Remus takes care to keep your cunt, slick and oozing with his cum, away from any contaminents.

“I’ve got’cha,” He repeats, humming into the crown of your head. You can’t seem to get enough air in, but with each inhale of oxygen that you gulp down with your head against his chest, you find it easier to slip away into the void that’s beckoning you behind your eyes.

“Rest,” He pants, holding your head to his chest, mouth open as he breathes towards the sky. His skin is sweaty, but so is yours, and your eyes fall resolutely shut at his command.

When you wake you’re back at home, tucked neatly and carefully into your own bed, under your own blankets. Your entire body is sore, everything from your cunt to your back to your knees, and you find yourself incapable of moving due to the ache below your belly.

“Remus?” You call, your voice floating weakly through the walls of your cottage. You’re pleased to find that you’ve been cleaned up, there’s no dirt left caked into your skin.

All’s clean but your cunt, still packed tight and oozing with Remus’s release. Apparently he’d taken extra care not to waste any of that.

“Here,” Remus emerges from the other room, a towel around his neck, a tank top over his chest, and a bulge in his boxers. He’s sweating profusely, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d crawled into the oven.

“What- what are you doing?” You squint blearily up at him, watching as he raises one end of the towel to wipe at his dripping forehead.

“Working out,” He huffs, grating the towel against his skin, “It’s insane, dove. Jus’ can’t sit still. Prongs really fucked me up with this potion shit, I’ll have to tell him to tone it down.”

“No!’ You speak before you can think, face flushing hot afterwards, as if you’re not residually warm enough.

“Hm?” Remus pants, staring curiously at you as he rubs sweat from his shaggy hair.

“Um,” You flounder, feeling the sticky remnants of Remus’s cum still gooey inside your cunt, “I like it. This- this potion thing. This was… good.”

Remus cracks a smirk, stalking towards the bed with heavy steps, “Yeah? You liked runnin’ from the big bad wolf?”

“Remus!” You whine at his teasing, squirming away when he grips your jaw. He turns your face towards him, and the tight hold of his fingers on your jaw makes you whimper into the kiss he presses to your mouth.

“I’ll tell ‘im,” Remus grunts, lips wet where they stick to your own, “That m’girlfriend,” He licks a stripe up your tongue, panting as he tastes you, “Likes gettin’ hunted. ‘S that it, love? Y’cunt get all wet when you were runnin’ from me?”

“Yes,” You whimper, licking desperately at his mouth as he tongues you, “Remus, I- I need more, please?”

“Ah,” He tuts, pulling away but keeping your jaw firmly in his grip, “No. Not yet, dove.”

“But-!”

“I’ll tear you apart,” Remus warns, eyes flashing dark again, “You’re tired, and you need to rest. You can’t take any more. Later, I promise.”

“No, I can take it, please! I can,” You beg, going so far as to paw at the waistband of his boxers, “Please Remus!”

“Enough.” He snaps, releasing your jaw and backing away. The tent in his boxers is obvious, but he knows you’re too weak to get fucked again.

“‘S for your own good,” He tells you, wiping away a tear that beads at the corner of your eye, “But I’ll make you a deal, dove. I’m gonna go finish my workout. By the time I’m done, if you’ve finished that whole glass,” He motions to your nightstand, and you turn to see a cup of water there, ice cold, “Then I’ll fuck you again. ‘Kay?”

“Okay,” You nod vigorously, excitement already twisting your stomach, “Okay, Remus, I- thank you.”

“Mhm,” He kisses you one last time, teasingly chaste where your tongue chases after his own. Before he straightens up fully he leans in to speak beside your ear, and his gruff, dangerous murmur curls arousal around your spine like a spring coiled tight, waiting to fly, “And don’t even think about touching yourself, dove. I’ll smell it if you do.”

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