#but you can say whatever you want to dismiss the truth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thexsilentxwordsmith · 2 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you.

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction.

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly.

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says.

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit.

And yet… shockingly… you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement.

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge.

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore.

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?”

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm.

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together.

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth.

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him.

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth.

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand.

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his.

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment.

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed.

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready. But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own.

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent.

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both.

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie.

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case.

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back.

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up.

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken.

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it.

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed.

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.

2K notes · View notes

messrmoonyy · 16 days

Text

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl.

Unfortunately you were no different.

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you.

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover.

But no.

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel.

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked.

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday.

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde.

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest.

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin.

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either.

And today was no different.

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed.

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others.

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return.

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s.

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling.

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way.

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard.

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better.

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself.

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh.

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “

You.

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you.

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks.

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch.

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away.

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors.

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you.

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men.

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged.

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours.

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company.

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both.

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods.

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little.

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away.

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another.

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette.

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you.

Someone was finally listening.

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were.

He blamed it on his fatigue.

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been.

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked.

“ Really? “

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours.

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded.

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded.

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen.

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him.

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done.

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were.

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman.

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank.

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool.

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little.

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it.

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest. His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment.

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you.

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again.

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice.

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more.

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating.

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his.

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless.

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face.

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you.

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which.

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain.

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch.

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought.

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt.

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night.

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly.

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants.

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates.

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous.

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon.

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted.

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough.

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now.

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t.

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you.

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water.

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch.

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them.

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care.

“ I ain’t like that “

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants.

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison.

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved.

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw.

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were.

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it.

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did.

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make.

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance.

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “

“ no “

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked.

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him.

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again.

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you.

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to.

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs.

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you.

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other.

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate.

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew.

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted.

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired.

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it.

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him.

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined.

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips.

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first.

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars.

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well.

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair.

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks.

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once.

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell.

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra.

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little.

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers.

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted.

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips.

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly.

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it.

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back.

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him.

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily.

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh.

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might.

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch.

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm.

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you.

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing.

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed.

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him.

“ god- oh god “

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again.

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there.

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide.

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it.

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up.

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours.

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you.

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep.

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked.

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word.

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans.

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever.

And then he came to his senses.

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist.

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours.

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more.

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers.

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips.

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least.

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more.

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “

He sincerely hoped you would.

#ask and ye shall receive #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #x you #background Dutch van der Linde x reader #fluff #dutch van der linde #Arthur Morgan smut #john marston #javier escuella #Sadie Adler #arthur morgan rdr2 #van der linde gang

661 notes · View notes

blackswallowtailbutterfly · 4 months

Text

My nana at 9 years of age was dragged kicking and screaming to school. Her math teacher had been molesting her. She told her parents. They did nothing. Best part? Her father was the principal. So obviously that teacher learned he could get away with anything and started molesting the other girls, who then blamed my nana because...I dunno, little kid logic I guess. It was unlikely their parents were going to be any more helpful than my nana's and he knew it.

My great aunt at the age of 13 was forcibly kissed by a teacher in full view of several witnesses who then gave her shit for seducing an honourable man.

My mom at 12 years of age left her physically abusive father to live with her mother and stepfather, only for her stepfather to molest her. Her mother to this day refuses to believe it.

My best friend had a longterm close male friend who sexually assaulted her in her sleep. Their entire friend group as well as the youth counselor encouraged her to forgive him because it was obviously a misunderstanding and she'd been giving off mixed signals and he'd had a huge crush on her and he wasn't intending to hurt her! So she did forgive him, publicly. And he did it again. And again. And again. And then it was her fault because she kept hanging out with him. If she really didn't want him doing it, why didn't she just abandon her entire friend group? He also got emboldened and went on to sexually assault other girls, so eventually they all started talking and went to the school against him. The youth counselor admonished my friend for going forward against him.

My other best friend decided to be "open-minded" and dated a trans-identified male. He also sexually assaulted her multiple times in her sleep but he framed her as the abuser at their youth support group for not adequately validating his identity.

My stepfather molested me from the ages of 7 to 12 and when I reported him he was dating a new woman at the time. She didn't believe it. They're still together. I can only imagine the number of girls he's been given access to over the years (he didn't go to jail, or get convicted of sexual assault).

I was also sexually assaulted in my sleep at my friend's party once. That guy's friend said I "probably wanted it".

Went to group therapy. All the women there had very different stories, but one theme that kept cropping up: they weren't believed or they were blamed.

I read books about therapy sessions with other victims. And that theme kept up. Not believed or else blamed. One woman told her story, learning to gloss it over before being dismissed out of hand, for decades before a professional finally asked her to elaborate and put her in touch with a sexual assault crisis centre. Another thing that came up in those books: knowing how hard it was for victims to come forward, and all the discouragement from people in their lives, many women must take it to the grave.

But hey, it's fine. Men have it worse. I mean we all watched a rich abusive man successfully publicly humiliate his victim while everyone said he was the victim and she was the abuser. And actually it's super common for abusive men to claim to be the victim, and police and family believe it! And it can take multiple women to come forward against one man for anything to be done, and often even that's not enough. But never mind that, men have it worse. We know this because they so--no, no, don't pay attention to hospital records or homicides or child marriages, or--Men. Say. They. Have it worse! So they do. Everything a man says is truth. That's why you must believe whatever a man says and accept every observation he makes as objective. No, there's no irony here, no historical precedent, no global trend.

744 notes · View notes

pedros-mustache · 1 year

Text

good thing

word count: ~4k

warnings: smut (18+ only). also: established relationship, angst, non-planned pregnancy, implied sex-for-pay, age gap, language, x fem!reader

a/n: idk you guys. he is—as my middle schoolers would say—Him. it was bound to happen that i would write a pregnancy fic about this man. i will admit that i am weirdly nervous about sharing this fic so please be kind, friends✨🤗

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

“Whose?”

“Not yours.”

The room falls quiet, swollen with the ugly reality of your revelation. Your heart hangs in your chest. A clock on the shelf ticks each miserable second he does not respond.

Joel drums his fingers on the faded arm of the couch, his face blanketed by an unreadable shroud. He stares out the window, and you know he is thinking—wondering—calculating—when this happened. You cannot tell if he is hurt or angry or merely confused, but you can tell he is running the numbers. Running the myriad of possibilities of how you got knocked up under his watch. You could tell him—spill your slimy secrets on the creaking apartment floor like a parishioner at confession—but what good would that do? What would that change? Truth revealed or not, the fact remains:

You are pregnant, and whatever is blossoming between you and Joel, whatever tender flower has broken through cracked soil to find the light of day, the baby is not his. More than that, this development, this situation, marks the end of your budding connection. That glittering future you once saw with him, the future of safety and security at his side? Snipped at the bud, crushed beneath the heel of practicality. You can go no further. Not with him.

Across the apartment, the girl—Ellie—shuffles side to side. You glance at her over your shoulder and watch a wave of discomfort twist her smooth features. You sigh, dropping your arms from their position crossed over your chest.

“Come on, Joel. Now isn’t the time to ask questions. When Tess gets back with the guns, you and her have got to get Ellie out of here.”

Maybe it is something in your resolute tone of voice, or maybe it is reality crashing landing at his feet, but your comment breaks Joel’s attention from the window. He stands, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. He faces you, and that unreadable shroud falls from his face. He is angry, that much is clear.

He points to the apartment door. “Out.”

The blood in your veins slows, turned sluggish with the weight of your sudden anxiety. “What?” you breathe.

Shaking his head, his free hand comes to rest on his hip. You know the stance: he does it every time you insist on sharing tea in the morning or rubbing the tension from his sore muscles. He’s irritated, but not outraged. That alone is a reassuring sign.

“Not you. Her.” He gestures to Ellie. “Go wait in the hall.”

You start to protest. FEDRA on the move, Fireflies dispersed, night coming quickly—time is wasting. There’s no time for you and him and figuring this out, if that is what he wants. That ship has sailed and sunk beneath a bitter ocean of what-could-have-beens. There is only time for here and now and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

“Joel, I don’t—”

But his face softens as it so rarely ever does. He pulls his stare from the girl and turns his brown eyes—those damn puppy dog eyes—on you, and you are helpless. “Please,” he whispers.

The clock on the shelf ticks louder. Maybe you can steal a few minutes...

Without turning to face Ellie, you cock your head at the door in a silent dismissal. She releases an annoyed huff, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath about fucking adults before slamming the door behind her.

“Delightful child,” you murmur.

“She could save us all.”

Scoffing, you press your palms to the chipped table in the center of the apartment. The wood veneer is smooth, cool to the touch. It soothes your racing heart, even if only for a moment. “You’re starting to sound like Tess.”

Joel remains quiet—perhaps thoughtful, maybe biding his time—but his fixed stare carves gaping holes in the side of your head. You can feel him rooting through your mind like a scavenger. He is wondering when you slipped away long enough, when you found the time. He is replaying the moments in the market when you spoke to any other man and held his gaze for too long. He sifts through your shared memories with frantic fingers, and you can feel him—you know him well enough—to sense the panic swirling in his chest.

But for the first time in the three years you have known him, you do not have it in you to quiet the storm in his mind. You have your own tempest to battle.

Finally, he speaks. “You gonna look at me?”

The slow, deep timbre of Joel’s voice catches you off guard. You expected anger, shouting, frustration that boils over into rage. But Joel has always been gentle with you. Beneath the brusk of necessity, he is a true Southern gentleman. Just like his mama raised him. And even now, standing on the edge of the crumbling cliff where you have placed yourself, he treats you with nothing but respect.

God, you could love him. You really could. If only things were different.

You look away from the table and find him a step closer. Not close enough to touch. He is too angry for that; it is written in the shadow on his brow. But he is close enough that you can see the concern etched in the lines on his face. His frown is not at you, it is for you, and that makes looking at him all the harder.

“When did this happen?”

You shrug, eyes skittering to the floor. “I told you. It doesn’t matter. The details don’t matter.”

“Don’t they?” He has both hands on his hips now, his head tilted as he tries to catch your wandering gaze. “Come on, girl. Answer me. You owe me that.”

He’s right: you do owe him. You owe him so many times over it is impossible to count. Still, if he knew—if he truly knew... There would be no hope of repairing the damage you would cause. You would only split the torn earth on which you stand wider. The crumbling cliff would give way, and you would fall to your doom.

He reaches out. His fingers skim the rough hem of your flannel, his flannel. “Tell me, baby.” Those three words, choked out and brittle with desperation, snap your resolve in two.

You will lay your cards on the table, spread yourself across the sacrificial altar, bear your soul. For him—always for him.

Inhaling, you stand straight, bracing your socked-feet on the floor. You meet his eyes. If you’re going to go down for the decisions of your past, you’ll do it with your chin held high. Your father didn’t raise a quitter.

“Remember that battery, the one for the radio? The boots, the jacket?”

Joel nods. “For my birthday.”

You nod. “For your birthday.”

He holds your unwavering stare. The clock ticks: tick, tick, tick. Understanding rises like a slow tide over his face. You can’t bear to watch it. You look away. Shame gnaws at your stomach like a hungry wolf, and you press a hand to your belly.

“You didn’t—” He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth curling. “You didn’t have to...”

“I wanted to. For you.” Something catches in your throat. You circle the table, placing the furniture between his growing emotion and your growing regret. Fuck, you should have just stayed quiet. “So you could have one good thing.”

“But now you’re—”

“Pregnant.”

Tearing a hand through his hair, Joel twists. He faces the door, and you wonder if he is dreaming of escape just like you. You wonder if he is dreaming of a world where doves still fly and babies live past six months and men and women can afford to build a life together.

He presses a closed fist to his mouth. Light bounces off the cracked face of his wrist watch. “What are you going to do?”

You answer without hesitation. “Keep it.”

His neck turns so fast you swear you hear it crack. You would joke about his age if the situation weren’t so dire. Two nights ago you joked that he is old enough to be your uncle, maybe even your dad; he fucked you good when you said that, just to prove you wrong. That levity feels far away now, impossible to grasp should you even dare try.

“The likelihood of survival—”

“Is slim. For me and the baby, I know. But I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve even prayed about it. And I—” You blink away the warm tears rising to blur your vision. “I want this.”

“Why?”

Why? What a simple question. What a loaded answer. You don’t know where to begin. But he looks at you with such earnestness, such a craving to understand, that you have to at least try.

“I want a husband,” you say. When he frowns in confusion, you push onward, the words rising to your tongue like a sermon. “I want a child and a home. A life I can build and call my own. I may never have a husband or a true home, but with this child, no matter how it came to be…” You give a pitiful shrug of your shoulders. “I need something more, Joel. Something more than simply living to die.”

After a moment, when your words have settled like dust on a crowded roadway, Joel motions to your stomach. He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can—can I?”

“Yes.” You release the word on a stolen breath.

Rounding the table, Joel keeps his focus glued to your abdomen. His chest rises and falls, deep inhale after shallow exhale. He stands before you, a giant amongst men, his fingers shaking as he unbuttons the three lower buttons of his flannel. He brushes the fabric aside, and when your stomach is bare before him, he swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs as though he, too, feels a lump lodged in his throat. He smooths the palm of his hand over the slight bump at your womb. Barely there, blink and you miss it, but unmistakable once noticed.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see,” he murmurs. His thumb massages your ever-stretching skin, back and forth, back and forth. His warm breath fans your face as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“Because you didn’t want to.”

You pass your fingers through the graying hair at his temples and study the way his eyelashes fan his cheekbones. Little moments, you think, to be tucked away in your heart once this is all over and he is gone.

“When Kate was pregnant, I knew. Sarah... I could feel her...”

Your chin trembles, your fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know... I know...”

“A baby. In this world. I can’t remember the last time I—”

Without warning, he cuts his own thought short and slowly lowers himself to his knees. He presses one hand to the small of your back, the other still massaging the bump of your stomach. You hold your breath as he leans forward and touches your bump with his forehead. He whispers something, something you cannot hear and you suspect is not for you, and then he is standing. He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and when you meet his eyes, you see the world.

“Sugar, you are my good thing.”

I wanted to. For you. So you could have one good thing.

His words—your words—ring loud in your ear, and you choke on a sob as he lowers his mouth to yours. He kisses you like the rain kisses dry land. You are parched, cracked and withered from the fear of this moment, but with his touch, he waters your aching heart. He is eager, holding you close, cradling your jaw with the wide expanse of his hand. Never before, not in the year of sharing his bed, has he kissed you with such devotion coating his lips. You could drown in it.

You tear your mouth away long enough to look over your shoulder. The door to the apartment remains shut, a measly separation between you and the outside world. “The girl—”

Joel shakes his head, already working on the remaining buttons of your flannel. “She doesn’t matter.” He kisses your neck, once, twice, creating a wet trail to your earlobe. “Not right now.”

“Okay.” You turn back to him, your face softening as you catch his dark eyes.

He nudges your nose with the end of his own. “Okay.”

Words dissipate. Like fresh dew beneath the morning sun, the need for talking disappears under the weight of all that is and was and could be. There is nothing more to say—not aloud, not right now—but there is much, oh so much, your body can say for you.

You kiss Joel with a fierceness you have not felt since the first time he laid his hands upon you. You are desperate for him, desperate to tell him just why you did what you did, and how much you need him, want him, fuck—maybe even love him. You part your lips to allow him access, and you cling to his arms, your nails biting the flesh beneath his denim shirt. He hisses when you bite his lower lip, the hand still resting in the small of your back pushing you closer to his warmth. You tangle your arms around his shoulders, holding him closer, closer, as close as he can get without forcing him to merge into your own skin.

With a quiet grunt, he fists his hand in the hair at the back of your head and wrenches to the side. You gasp, eyes widening as he flattens his tongue against your pulse point. He sucks your skin, biting gently, before releasing your neck with a wet pop. You whimper—even as he takes your chin in his fingers again and seals his mouth to yours.

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink fully into the kiss. You do not know what the future holds or what will become of you and the child within. All you know is that here, in the now, in the present, Joel kisses you, and sweeps his tongue across your tongue, and runs his hand down the inside of your jeans to cup your ass. And for right now, in the here and the present, you are okay and you are safe and the risk of being with him is worth the reward.

He squeezes the flesh of your ass again, and you shake yourself free of any wayward thinking. Just him—just you—just now.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers against your lips. “Mine.”

You nod, and through laboring breaths, you confirm what has always been the truth. “Yours.”

It is a backwards, lopsided dance to the only bed in the apartment. He collapses to the edge, and you straddle his thigh as you kiss him. His broad hands run the course of your body, up and down, front and back. He massages your breasts through the paltry fabric you call a bra, pausing long enough to tweak a nipple hard enough you whine. He chuckles, leans forward, sucks the offended nub through the covering. You go to shrug off his flannel, but Joel stops you with a hand to your arm.

“No.” His eyes roam from your face to your shoulders to your peaked nipples and finally, the swollen womb above your center. “Keep it on.”

He leans back on his palms as you unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. The zipper of his jeans strains against his growing erection. You peel your underwear off and face him with a smirk.

“You’re overdressed.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Maybe.”

“We should fix that.”

He waves his hand in invitation. “Be my guest.”

Biting your lower lip to conceal a grin, you pounce, zealous for him as much as he is for you. His clothes come off in quick succession until you are both naked save for his flannel hanging loose around your shoulders. He pauses then, a second, maybe two, his hand poised against the side of your neck. His eyes dart between yours, his lips parted, words he dare not say resting on the tip of his tongue.

“I know, baby.” You put one hand on his shoulder, his warm, tan skin a comfort against the chill in the room. You reach out and grip his hard cock with your opposite hand, and when he winces in pleasure, you brush your knuckles over the hair on his jaw. “I know.”

Joel allows you to stroke him, a rare occurrence in your repertoire of fucks. What is normally a frenzied connection in the dark, moments stolen before the light of day brings reality crashing back, is turned slow by the knowledge that things are different now. Things cannot be as they once were, no matter what the future may bring. So you stroke his cock, spit in your hand, and stroke it faster. Up and down, until he is pulsing in your hand and weeping from the tip. He drops to his back on the bed, his face buried in his hands as you touch him.

But then you pull away.

Joel removes his hands from his face. He stares at you, a flash of annoyance brightening his eyes. “What—”

“Shh.” You plant both hands on his sturdy chest as you swing your leg over his hips. “Walls are thin.”

Gripping the base of his cock, you run your dripping warmth over his tip. You hover above him, eyes rolling back in your head as you tease yourself. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body, and you grit your teeth to keep from moaning. Joel grabs your hips, but he does not force you down. No, he waits until you are ready. He waits until you position his cock at your entrance and begin the slow descent to heavenly madness.

You suck in a deep breath as his cock stretches you open. He fits snug in your core, like he was crafted just for you. When you have adjusted to his girth, you move your hands to grip his arms. You shift your knees, lifting your hips up before descending again. Over and over, a smooth, unchanging rhythm.

You are in no hurry to find release. For once this fuck is more than finding a shot of pleasure amidst the cruel darkness of the world. You want this to last and you want this to feel good. You need this imprinted upon your mind, locked in the secret place of your heart.

But you and he both can only take the slowness for so long.

Joel soon resumes his position of dominance, as is custom when his need builds. You allow it because you crave it. His breadth and strength and command shields you from danger in the outside world, but you crave it in bed too, when you can allow that breadth and strength and command to slam the fear from your mind.

He slides an arm around your waist and flips you to your back, keeping you snug beneath him. He gives a few experimental thrusts before he kisses you—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. He leans back and exposes your body to the yellow light of the room. He trails his hand down your sweaty chest. His fingers dance over your bump, hovering there as if in prayer, before finding your swollen clit. You gasp, hips lifting upward, as he rubs you in circle after circle. He brings you to the edge before pulling away and gripping your shins with his hands. He pushes forward, and you are bent in half, completely at his mercy.

Holding your knees to your chest, he picks up the pace. He plows into you, teeth gritted, lips pulled back in a snarl. He watches his rigid length split you apart, thrust after thrust. On some level, you know he is staking his claim. He drives into you with such force, with such feral carnality, you know there is some part of him that just wants to mark his territory. Reclaim what is rightfully his. You let him because it is true. You belong to him, Joel Miller, not the man who planted his seed in you and walked away. Always and forever—his—your purpose.

You slap your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out in delicious agony. You feel stretched and full and electric all at once.

“That’s it.” Joel releases your shins but presses his chest to your legs. Your hips lift, swallowing him to the hilt. “Take me—fuckin’—good.”

The pressure in your core builds. Light dances at the fringes of your touch. You close your eyes, latching on to the feeling.

Leaning back, Joel swats your hip. “Open your eyes.” He withdraws his cock far enough to slam into you with more force, his tip angled against your most sensitive spot. “Look at me.” He swats your ass again.

Dutifully, you peel your eyes open. You look at him—into his eyes, his soul—as he fucks you.

You burst like the skin of a ripe grape. It is violent, sudden, earth-shattering. You convulse beneath him, and the tremors wracking your frame are enough to send him over the edge. He grabs the curve of your waist with one hand, lurching forward to catch himself on his forearm above your head. He swallows his groan of pleasure, managing to barely release a muffled whimper. His warmth oozes from your core and stains the bed sheets beneath.

He remains tucked inside of you until you are forced to push him away. A cramp in your leg demands attention, and you rub the blasted muscle until the pain has subsided. You return to his side, to his sweaty body, to his arm that slips beneath his flannel and lays beneath your back. He rolls to his side to face you.

The truth of your situation looms like a storm cloud at the edge of the room. He can see it; you can see it. You must acknowledge it before the here and now is upon you and you have no plan with which to fight it.

“What are we gonna do?” You hold his forearm, thumb brushing the bone of his wrist. His hand is warm and heavy on your cheek, his eyes married to yours.

He does not hesitate. “I’ll keep you safe. Both of you. All of you.” He smooths the sweat-plastered hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You nod because Joel Miller always keeps his promises. Whatever he says is true.

He relaxes his hold on your face as he shifts onto his back. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing even. You glance at him and the evening light that cuts his face in angular shadows.

“Hey, Joel?”

He opens one eye, peers at you in expectation.

You smile—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. “You’re my good thing, too.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #hbo the last of us

5K notes · View notes

avatarkv · 9 months

Text

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (3)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader.(wc: 5211)

“You will make a good olo’eyktan.”

Jake snorted, downing the last dregs of amber liquid from his worn wooden glass. He shook his head in amusement as he put it down on his lap– It must be the alcohol speaking, he thought to himself. Tsu’tey had been speaking vaguely; roughly in between asking where his loyalty lies and if he was willing to stay for the people. To say Jake was confused was an understandment, and he wasn’t a brick of a wall to not feel that something was wrong.

“Don’t you mean would?” He asked, refilling his cup. “I would make a good olo’eyktan. A possibility.”

Tsu'tey's merely shook his head as he finished his beverage, letting a few drops of liquid trickle down his chin. He didn’t bother to wipe it away, gaze far into the crowd of young warriors celebrating themselves. The festivity had gathered everyone and his eyes darted constantly to his lover– the one who rightfully had this heart.

And that was something Jake had noticed about Tsu’tey tonight, he realized. Tsu'tey was never truly looking at him. Although he had only spoken to him on this particular night, his eyes never once met Jake’s; it seemed as though he was constantly searching for something else– someone.

Could it be Neytiri? His heart seized as the thought crossed his mind. He was selfish. Eywa knows just how impure his soul is; how cruel he is to love a promised woman.

“What is that human word you use when you have not been truthful?”

One of the things he became aware of as he continued to learn life in Pandora was that the Na’vi didn't recognize or understand the concept of lying; there wasn't even a word in their language for it. It was a revelation for him, that such an integral part of his motherland - dishonesty and deception - was nonexistent here. He feared he would be the one to taint their morals, to be the example to its definition.

Jake was a liar.

“You mean lie?”

Tsu’tey nodded. “I fear I have done such a thing.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes in thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to pry– not when his eyes seemed distant once more. He thought he looked at Neytiri, but standing beyond her was the figure his eyes desperately sought. Tsi’ewa looked like a vision in the firelight, her every gracefully swaying movement becoming alive in the mesmerizing glow of the large bonfire.

And she was just there– how could she sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?

Jake puts an awkward hand to his shoulders, attempting to comfort him with a pat. “Eywa will forgive you– whatever you did.”

But Tsu’tey only shook his head again. His steady hand made quick work of refilling his cup to the brim once more, as if he was trying to drown out the rising truth that was spiraling from his stomach. He paused for a moment before lifting it up to meet his lips, “No. She would have to ask for my forgiveness instead.”

“We must tell the people now.”

They continued to walk aimlessly, steps wide and quick. The night had seemingly stretched on for hours since the gathering had ended, and they were growing ever more irritable– both bodies awash with alcohol and both minds clouded with judgment. “Your thoughts are muddled, Tsu’tey. You’ve had a bit too much to drink.” She said in a dismissive tone, making it clear that she didn't want to discuss the topic further. Tsi’ewa was nothing but distant— tonight where Tsu’tey felt most painfully vulnerable.

“I can think just fine, Tsi’ewa.” He carefully takes her arm, steering her to face him. “We have to tell the people now.”

“And risk your place in the clan?” She quickly swats his hand away, her face twisted with a troubled expression. “I will not let you ruin your name.”

They finally stand still, exhausted— bodies glistening in sweat. Tsi’ewa frantically looked around, perhaps for something to hurl or something to tightly squeeze'; anything to relieve the knot that churned deeply inside her stomach. Letting out another lengthy sigh, she finally looks at Tsu’tey. “I am but a songstress, Tsu’tey! Someone who people wouldn’t care enough to give two glances.”

“And why do they matter?” He replied in the same tone, just as defeated as she was.

“Because I am nothing. I am unheard, I am not seen– but you. You are to become leader. The people need you, Tsu’tey.” She steps in closer, just enough to feel his warm breath fanning over her face. Her finger digs into his chest as she speaks, pressing harder with each word that spills from her mouth. “You have to choose.”

“I do not have to. It is you who I want.” He answers, almost casually– like he had lost a screw or two to trade such a title for something so miniscule. Tsi'ewa releases a frustrated sigh, her posture wilting in defeat.

“You are being stubborn!”

“And you think too low of yourself!”

Silence envelopes their heaving bodies once more. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I am unhappy with the union– it is against my will and most especially my heart. Do not make me choose the people.”

He finds promise in the crooks of her body, the warmth of her palms; a place of sanctity he wouldn’t mind kneeling to for hours. It was the kind of romance so tender, it would dissolve right on his tongue the moment he would consume it– he just knew he would love her for a very long time. Tsu’tey would let his title be damned if it meant having her for eternity.

“We will be miserable.” She whispers.

“Only if you push me away.” He answers.

Who knew Tsu’tey was quite the romantic? Well– people would’ve known if they had given him the chance to truly love. The day he died, Tsi’ewa knew her heart was buried along with his.

The flickering firelight created a somber ambience as Jake sat motionless, lost in thought. The dancing shadows casted by its light created an indescribable feeling of unease– an overwhelming weight of dread settling on his shoulders. His mind raced endlessly, thoughts clamouring in his head to be brought to the forefront.

The clan– the people. His family. Himself. Deafening, deafening sound.

Quartich was back and he had to think fast. Sure, they were far from where the old shack is, but it wouldn’t be long until they were eventually found. The thought strikes an indescribable fear, reeling him in and getting the best of him.

To say Jake was tired was an understatement.

Tired is a word used to describe how one feels after a busy day; one that promises a better tomorrow– a green light that lets you go ahead and continue once more. He fears this is more than just casual exhaustion, but something that threatens to bury him six feet under.

And then there was you; a particular voice desperate for a minute of his time. He hears your voice, even in mind. His stubborn eldest. You might as well be the reason for why his hair is turning white so early. He thought it was just a phase– he thought that every child would eventually grow out of their angsty-teenager stage. Heck, he went through one back on earth. Jake was once a little boy too, he’d know.

But as time stretched on, he realized that your actions had rooted from actual hurt and not just some juncture in life. When you said you hated him, you actually did. When you said he was being a shit father, he actually was. He made you feel that way.

Jake wonders when it happened– what had slipped through his fingers for everything to become so messy. He swears he hears you as much as you don’t think he isn’t listening.

You’d make a great olo’eykte. He knows it. Somewhere along that line frightens him– makes him terribly uneasy. He doesn’t mean to tell you otherwise, but in his eyes, you will always be his little girl; the same kid who cried to him once because everyone had been too mean. Jake would burn the whole world if he had to; shed blood if it meant your safety.

Being a clan leader meant exactly that. He knew you’d do everything to ensure everyone’s safety, even if it meant your life. Jake wasn’t ready for that– he wasn’t ready to hear that his little girl was capable enough to not need him.

He wished he’d rather made that clear instead of severing your already strained bond. The gulf between you two has grown too wide for him to bridge the gap, and it's slowly eating away at him.

There was just something so complicated between a father and a daughter’s relationship– a kind of complication that neither of you could tell what you really meant. He wishes he could understand you; take away the troubles that made you restless. Maybe then, your eyes wouldn’t feel so distant– maybe then, you wouldn’t look at him like he wasn’t your own dad.

He numbly reaches for the machine gun– its surface still emanating heat from its earlier use. He can feel its weight in his grasp, a firm reminder of the violence that had just transpired. He clenches it in his hands, his sweaty palms pressing against its hard surface in an almost comforting way.

“The children are fine and taken care of,” Neytiri gently announced as to not worry her already troubled mate. “Your mind is clouded, ma Jake, tell me about it. ”

“Just thinking,” Neytiri sat in front of him, allowing the silence to linger for a moment longer while she awaited his response. “That maybe Tsu’tey had been hinting at his relationship with Tsi’ewa for much longer than we thought.”

That wasn’t at all what her mate had expected him to say, thinking that he would likely talk about what had happened back at the old shack. The wrinkle between her eyes deepened as she questioned aloud, "Why is this being brought up now?"

Jake released a lengthy exhale as he released the empty shell from his gun, letting it amble towards the fire pit. “Maybe I could have done something to save him from dying a warrior’s death so soon.”

Neytiri straightened her leaning posture, clicking her tongue. “This isn’t about Tsu’tey, is it?” The way Jake's reaction was almost too subtle to notice only solidified her suspicions. His posture seemed to slightly change, his shoulders stiffening ever-so-slightly as if he was attempting to contain the emotions running just beneath the surface. “It’s about y/n.”

“Always about that daughter of ours.” He attempted to make light of the situation, stifling a chuckle. This demeanor was a thin veil for the obvious elephant in the room and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to make it known just yet. “Hard headed and snobby, just like Tsu’tey.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she got it from you instead?” Neytiri narrowed her eyes at him, mouth twisted in a slight scowl. When Jake only released a snort in reply, his gaze still fixated on the machine gun, she lightly swatted him on the nape of his neck with a hiss. “You are too hard on her– on everyone! Don’t you think that you’re being too harsh on them?”

Jake winces before replying, voice firm and just as loud. “I am only doing what I can to protect everyone.” He flails his arms around, trying to emphasize his words. “Everything that I do is for them. You think I enjoy being like this? Being the mean parent?”

“Then stop!”

Jake let his long fingers run through his hair, slightly tugging at the braids in exasperation. His eyes closed for a fleeting moment as he drew in a sharp breath, attempting to compose himself. “It’s not that easy, Neytiri. They had their knives right under our children’s necks– I’m only trying to keep this family alive and together.”

“By pushing everyone away? By telling your eldest that she isn’t enough? Listen to what you’re saying, Jake! You aren’t hearing yourself!” Neytiri presses a finger into his chest. “This isn’t about war– it wasn’t always about fighting. It’s about you and the children.”

Everyone falls silent, letting the weight of their words settle in the air. The only sound is that of the distant fire crackling, filling in the otherwise unbearable quiet. They took in each other’s heaving figures, eyes softening in mutual understanding.

“You’re scared you’re going to fail her like you think you did with Tsu’tey.” Neytiri whispers softly this time. Jake’s ears flatten in response– stiff shoulders slumping in defeat.

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

“Oh please– you are never this rough with Kiri and Tuk. Y/n is your daughter too, so why does she have to be on the receiving end of such hard affection?” She lets out an agitated scoff, “You do not hear her, ma Jake. When she shouts, she does not call for Toruk Makto– ma’ite does not challenge the olo’eyktan. She yearns for just you, her father.”

And that was Neytiri for you; ever the wiser one. She always knew what to say. Jake looks at him with such tenderness– an admiration that was strikingly reminiscent of the first time he ever saw her.

“You fathers always do not know what to feel– what to say. So you tend to be less understanding, because in that way, less words are spoken. Silence is better than talking it out, yes? Ma’sempul was the same. Only when he died did I realize– but will you take it to your grave before you let her know that she is loved?”

A daughter is only a daughter once, not until you make her forget.

“Make her understand. Your intentions are fair, but your ways are ill— they are ill, Jake.” Neytiri's words stung like a slap in the face, she might as well strike him straight to the chest. It rendered him speechless, yet he knew something shifted— and for the better. “She is your daughter. Not Tsu’tey’s.”

His daughter.

“Am I a bad father, Neytiri?” His voice had cracked and she swore she could hear the faint breaking of his already fragile heart. The realization slowly seeped into the wrinkles of his weary face, accentuating the creases from fatherhood itself. He failed everyone and he knew it. He always thought his actions were justified– but it was the consequences that struck him the most: He didn’t know Neteyam’s favorite color, but he knew how odd he held his bow.

He didn’t know his children.

“No, just misguided.” Slowly, Neytiri cautiously wraps her arms around his rigid form. She can feel the warmth of his skin against her face as she nestles her head into the crook of his neck. She swears he could hear the rapid beat of his heart and it pounds in sync with hers– they were both lost and terribly exhausted. “I know earth did not allow you to be soft, but you’re not alone anymore. Put your burdens at ease, ma Jake.”

Jake returns her embrace, squeezing her body softly. He allows himself to bask in the moment of stillness, taking in the sweet smell of her hair and skin. With a shaky exhale, he attempts to savor the fleeting peace before it's gone. When did everything become so difficult?

After a while, Neytiri finally stands, feeling the exhaustion of all she has endured today seeping into every fibre of her body. “The children are staying over at Mo’at’s for tonight.”

She stands there, lingering for a moment before finally turning to leave. “Just talk to her, Jake.”

And there he was, alone with nothing but the warm glow of the flickering fire to accompany him once again.

Fruits. You love fruits, he thinks.

Perhaps you didn’t get the memo that everyone was staying over at your grandma’s for the night; perhaps you were waiting for him to come home too. He carefully sliced the yovo fruits, placing them a bit too delicately on the bark bowl.

Jake was undeniably nervous. His own teenage daughter made him nervous.

As he slowly trudged towards the hut, his toe lurched into one of the wicker chairs– a loud string of curses exploded from his lips as he clamped his eyes shut in frustration. Through gritted teeth, he peered down to the seat. immediately noticing its snapped leg which seemed to mock him for his carelessness. He exhaled deeply. crouching down to take a closer look.

Funny enough, it was yours– your name glaring right back at him.

If there was something that he learned best back on earth, it was to be handy— good with his hands. (well, considering the lack of legs, he had to make use of thereof.) He thought he had cracked the code back then; giving everyone gifts and crafting whatever they pleased. Jake failed to realize that it was not more toys the children wanted– it was him. Just him.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Jake visibly winces at his poor attempt at an apology. He takes a pause, deciding on the right words to say before continuing, “Let’s talk about it, kid– promise not to raise my voice." He waits for her response but only silence greets him in return. He releases a deep sigh and mumbles under his breath, “-- or maybe not. This is fine." He carefully slides in the bowl of freshly cut fruits under the flap of the hut after taking a few moments to rest against its wooden walls. He looks around, his eyes wandering everywhere, “You listening?” He waits again, “Your father– he was a good man. A very good man, in fact."

“Neytiri was promised to him and he was to become the olo’eyktan. I was only an outsider; barged in and made a mess of an already good clan.” he reminisced, “He had every right to view me as a threat– heck, he could’ve even greeted my approach with a spear right to the chest the moment I arrived. He didn’t. No one did.”

“I’m thankful for that. Everything I have now is because of him.” He looks back at the entrance, hoping for even a flicker of light being lit by you– he thought maybe you were also leaning against the wall that separates you both. “I was wrong. Your father was far more than enough, and of all people, I should have known that better– should have known better than to talk shit about him to his very daughter.”

He exhales a deep, heavy sigh for what feels like the hundredth time, his frustration evident as he rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “Look, what I’m trying to say is. I miss you, sweetheart. I’m growing old– and while you aren’t getting any younger either, I want you to understand that when I shout, it means I want you to listen. When I push you to your limits, I only want you to do your best.”

He looked back at all the times where you and him argued– when he thought what he was doing was right. Jake wondered if he pushed you away everytime he raised his voice. He probably did.

“Well– raising my voice probably never worked because you always shouted back.” he says, shaking his head with a snort of laughter. No matter how loud either of them got, the other always managed to raise their voice even higher. “Time is fucking with me– you all are growing so fast. One second I’m snuggling with everyone in the same hammock and then all of a sudden I find myself making everyone a separate one because we’re all too big now.”

He grows quiet, a lump welling up in his throat that renders him speechless. “I’m not olo’eyktan– I’m no Toruk Makto. I’m just a father, baby. And I think that’s the most vulnerable I’ll ever be.”

“Never wanted any of you to fight. Never wanted to put everyone on the line for war–” Another breathy exhale, “I was scared. Fine, there it is, out in the open. My star failed me, sweet girl. I know how humans worked back there and they worked ruthlessly. We killed our own land– our own mothers.”

His stomach would lurch at the thought of it, an overwhelming pang of nausea stirring within him. Jake could barely survive back there– he truly was lucky to be chosen by Eywa. He could already be dead if not the past occurrences for all he knows.

“I wasn’t allowed to be gentle back then and I’m glad eywa is a lot more merciful here.” He looks up, staring at the starry sky. Earth had taken too much from him and ironically, it was also humans who kept ruining him here in Pandora too. Jake was always one step behind no matter how hard he tried. “But you got to give me a bit of recognition here, baby girl, I'm trying. I didn’t automatically become a father after having children. I think I’m forever learning. I still have a lot to go.”

“I did what I thought was right; I had to ensure that my family was safe, no matter the cost, and I didn’t even realize I put a damn war over everyone’s head. Sweetheart, I never wanted any of you to fight– I never wanted to put everyone on the line to battle. I would never wish for anyone to experience what I went through back on earth and funny enough, I brought it right to our doorstep.” And he felt his voice break as words tumbled out of his mouth in an incoherent pace, desperately trying to release all these emotions that had been clogging up his throat. He brought a hand roughly to his face in an effort to hold himself together, fingernails digging lightly into the delicate skin around his eyes. “I’m scared, babygirl.”

“Eywa was kind enough to give me children in the image of people I’ve already lost; Tsu’tey, Grace– hell, I even see Tommy on Lo’ak. That knucklehead is just too curious for his own good.” He didn’t know if it was a curse rather than a gift; every corner of his house was haunted and grief had made a home right on his very lungs.

He looks back at the flap of the hut and still no sign of you– even the bowl of fruits was left untouched. “Tough crowd.” He murmurs to himself before finally deciding to stand, his legs stiff from sitting still for too long. He awkwardly pats his thighs, shaking away the dust he collected. “Everyone is staying over at Mo’at’s. You can have the hut to yourself for the night.”

Space. Maybe you needed space. (And he was terribly wrong. Space was all that remained between you two.)

Jake starts to slowly walk away, yet somehow he feels like his troubles remain firmly on his shoulders. The guilt was there— all of it. He looks back one last time, praying. Eywa, give me one last chance. Let my daughter come running to me in an embrace and I’ll swallow my pride.

Nothing.

He felt his heart slowly breaking, the pieces of it slipping lower and lower down his stomach with every passing second. His mind was a mess; he could feel all his doubts and insecurities swirling about inside his body, each one vying for center stage. I am no better than my own father. I am no better than my own father. I am no better than my own father.

Unbeknownst to him, you were never in the hut to begin with. It was sick– such a cruel joke for the words you’ve been desperate to hear to be left unheard.

“Give me strength, dear mother. Tell me what I’m doing is just.”

You were kneeling on the damp, mossy ground close to the roots of the tree of souls, your hands tightly gripping onto your queue. The thick foliage that surrounded you was awash with the lavender hue that emitted from the vine-like leaves, lending you warmth from the chill eclipse. Woodsprites floated nearby, swaying close as if to welcome your presence.

Inching closer, you stretch out your arm before allowing the tendrils of your braid to coil around the hanging threads. Taking a deep breath, you let yourself feel– taking in the presence of Eywa.

Your mind was clouded. Once a dark space turned into something light– too light, it was almost blinding. Everything was blurry, almost like a dream, but you knew it wasn’t; knew well where you stood and why you were here to begin with.

Slowly, a vision emerges - a woman standing just a few paces from you. She feels something in the air and her ears perk up, as if she is trying to figure out the space she’s in too. Her head turns from each corner, cautiously checking the blurry surroundings. After a few moments of searching for something visible to the eye, she turns and finally spots you. A sudden shock passes through her body, evident by the way her eyes widen in surprise. She stands there for what seems like eternity, you can almost see the gears starting to move and click within her mind.

“Oh, my sweet child–”

She reaches out to envelop you in an embrace, but you take a step back in response. Her arms remain open– still hopeful that you’d run to her like how a child would to her mom, but you were just there, staring incredulously.

“I don’t know who you are.”

This couldn’t be Eywa. You would’ve known.

You two stood still, eyes drawing over each other’s lines and curves, trying to etch it in memory– then it dawned to you– could this be your mother?

“I knew Tsu’tey had the stronger genes, I just didn’t expect him to take up most of the space in your face.” She lets out a breathy chuckle, “Come close, child, let me see you.”

And you shouldn’t. You haven’t seen this woman all your life nor did the people provide enough stories about her. She was nothing but the person who had birthed and given you life– that should’ve been enough for you to run straight towards her, but you stood there, gulping down a familiar grief.

It’s weird for mothers and daughters to just coexist like she had not brought you upon the world at all. Sure, you have her eyes and you might grow to have her exact physique, but the word ma’ite sounded distant on her tongue– cold and unloving. Her arms weren’t inviting.

This wasn’t your mother. Mothers are kind and warm, like Neytiri.

Your legs moved forward in a hesitant pace, as if you were being pushed against your will. You stood closer, enough to let her cup your face. She lets out a choked sob– or was it laughter? You couldn’t follow. She lets her thumb mindlessly brush against your soft cheeks, eyes filled with so much love, you feared it would be too heavy. That love was reserved for you and only you– for all the ages you’d grow to be.

But all energy is borrowed. She has been carrying this longing tenderness for years in the afterlife.

You had Tsu’tey’s eyes, his lips. She’d argue that the nose is debatable, but surely if you rip open your heart, you’d find your mother’s own. Sweet, sweet child, forced to grow up too quickly. Tsi’ewa was sure you’d be the kindest soul.

You ponder deeply– what kind of life would your mother have had if you had never been born at all? Would she still be here, with all her vitality and vigor, relishing in the gift of her youthful years? Would she perform to the children, singing them lullabies they drift off into a peaceful sleep? The thought causes you profound anguish– your mother was just like you; full of life and once was a little girl too.

You wish you knew her enough to let the grief prolong.

“Time has been unkind to you,” She said softly, her fingers tenderly sweeping the loose strands of hair away from your face.

“You are not my mother.”

“I know.” She replies. Tsi’ewa doesn’t take it to heart how harsh your responses have been– you were just her little girl, lost and terribly misguided. “For all we know, I’ve only been one to you right now, so just this once– let my words bear meaning.”

You chose to wait; giving her the opportunity to slowly get acquainted with you, taking in every little detail of your face - from the stars of moles to the creases around your eyes. You were patient with her, allowing her to digest all that made you who you are – beyond just looks. She was just a mourning mother that grieved her little girl.

“You do not have to stay.” She whispers and her words hit a little too close to home, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and suppress a sob. “A boy would be Olo’eykte of the Omatikaya– but you, ma’ite, shall be mine.”

As the words slipped her mouth, you had finally granted her an embrace. You swear you had felt yourself turn smaller. Your head rests against her stomach, letting your ear listen for whatever you might hear. This is where you came from, you thought. Who knew a mother could bear a stranger? She clings to you with a desperate grip, preventing you from falling apart— as if it's her own way of trying to hold you together.

Just a bit more, Eywa. She begged. Give me a minute more to hold my girl.

I wish you’d give birth to me again, you cried, maybe then I’ll turn into something better.

You open your eyes, feeling beads of tears roll down your face. You mindlessly wipe them away, not truly grasping what had transpired or how the weight on your shoulders lightened. Woodsprites quickly flutter away once you regain consciousness. Your head shoots up, and a silent thank you escapes your lips as you bask in the warm glow of the light that touches your face.

Forgive me Eywa for leaving. Your ikran lets out a sharp shriek as you climb onto her back, taking steady steps up her body while gently caressing her back. The animal quiets down at your touch, eager to fly once more.

A heart is meant to be cupped by unscathed hands and if you cannot find palms big enough for yours, then you fear home is somewhere else.

finally posted a new chapter, how is everyone doing ! i honestly don't know what to feel about this part just yet, but i had to write through a writer's block so it might be ass. had to fight it or else i'd be stuck in a rut on god

very important ! i've decided not to take any more tags ;( i'm really sorry, but they take up most of my time and it bugs my posts because it only lets me tag to an extent? so if your name isn't mentioned, do know that i had to take out a few (or because your user didn't pop up when i tried) please turn on your notifications instead ;(

already proofread but please don't be hesitant to point out mistakes, i tend to be blind when it comes to editing teehee i listened to jacob and the stone by emile mosseri while writing this so you might want to do so too to set the mood !

love everyone so bad, thank you for being patient w me. smooch !

tags: @reyalvr @sparklyphantom @iwanttohitmyself @planetslove @teyamsjustsleeping @sully-stick-together @grandgreengrapes @erensbbg @queen-dk @loaklvr @theyoungeagle @ducks118 @teyyyteyyy @yeosxxx @simply-lovely78 @ellabellabus07 @thehoneymushroomhealer @saturdayrj @kingjulian0o9 @hippiezworldz @joemamalackin @random-3455 @zoetrope1997 @cl0esblogg @anxietydrogz @lokisfirstandlastwife @lunyyx @blkmystery @marsbars09 @gcldtom @luna-salem @wolflover384 @mushy-mushroom04 @whatthemonsterfuckisthis @eternalidentity @celi-xxmoon @dumb-fawkin-bitch @pinkeroppi @mellowdiy @jimfiqs @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ayra2452008 @vodoo-heart @rose-brulante @starxao @bluevenus19 @entertain-my-lvst @wwwellacom

2K notes · View notes

msbigredmachine · 2 months

Text

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

-----

Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

--------------

Please leave feedback/comments. I appreciate them as they help me improve my writing.

Thank you all so much for reading!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

TAGGING: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @gomussy @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @theesexystallion @yourtribalqueen

#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #the bloodline #smackdown #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #wrestlemania

457 notes · View notes

facefullofsadness · 4 months

Text

psychopathic but it's okay

band!au (lsfm girlies but in a band and y/n is the 6th member)

guitarist!yunjin x bassist!y/n

prompt - you and yunjin are always arguing and after one argument, the latter has had it with you

content - smut (choking, degradation, overstimulation, slapping, handcuffs, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, multiple orgasms, jen kinda forces you into it), angst (harsh language, toxic, arguments, yelling), fluff if you squint hard

wc - 4405

author's note at the end :)

how many times just in this week have we argued already? I can't remember.

to say yunjin and I were toxic would be an understatement. it could be something wildly insignificant, but it wouldn't matter, we would be at each other's throats.

like last week when she told me to get the receipt for the takeout I ordered with kazuha and I forgot it. more like zuha did, but obviously, it was my fault because yunjin said it was.

and throughout this entire week we had been shouting at each other. any small inconvenience or misunderstanding, you name it, we argued about it. misplacing a hairbrush, accidentally eating someone's share, taking the wrong person's keys, showing up late to a meeting or practice. it was exhausting.

I can't even recall the last peaceful moment I had with this girl. it's been months of this dreadful and perpetual conflict that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but it made me resent her in a way that I hated her guts.

I absolutely despise the way she thinks, her cocky attitude, her nonchalant responses, her dismissive demeanor, she drives me fucking insane.

which leads me to this moment, yelling at each other because she's playing ahead of the band.

"jen, play slower. you're fucking 2 seconds ahead of everyone else," I grumble, frustrated.

"oh whatever y/n, you try playing this shit. all you do is play the same bass line for 3 minutes straight," yunjin rolls her eyes back at me.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting it to escalate, especially with the members around, "just play slower."

somehow, we moved on and all continued to practice. but this asshole never fixed her timing issue.

"yunjin, play slower!" I interrupt our practice again to yell at the girl.

she snaps her head at me, "fuck you y/n! I'm literally trying."

"but you're not though? because how are you still fucking off beat when we've been practicing this shit for weeks?!"

"oh my god, give me a break. you're so stuck up, sorry if I don't practice till the break of dawn everyday like you do. unlike you, I actually have a life, I don't have time to be a bratty perfectionist like you."

out of the corner of my eye, I see our youngest eunchae start to wanna speak up, but our leader chaewon stopping her from trying. with that, all the girls leave the room quietly as my blood boils at the words the raven-haired girl is throwing at me.

"I'm fucking stuck up? imagine having a career, THE dream job, and not even trying. you act like I don't have a goddamn life either jen, it's not my fault that I'm not lazy like you are."

the taller girl slings the guitar off her shoulder and aggressively puts it down before stomping up to me.

"I don't wanna hear your bossy mouth utter another word about my work ethic bitch. you're only so fussy about this because you don't have anything else in your life to look forward to."

"your sorry excuses are no use anymore yunjin. stop acting like you're the best when you're no better than an amateur, you're literally only here because there was no one else."

"did you want that to sting? sorry princess but that only works if it's the truth, we both know you all need me here. without me, you're nothing."

I clutch the strap of my bass and swing it off my body, immediately grabbing the collar of yunjin's shirt and pushing her back into the keyboard piano, making the stand shake.

"listen to me and listen fucking well. I can make you leave the band and you can act like it doesn't matter to you but I know you'll be devastated. I know you're just a scared little girl, too intimidated by the outside world to actually quit. you may not be scared of me which is why you don't try, but I'm exhausted of you trying to have power over me when you're just a weak sorry bitch who your parents are ashamed to care for anymore."

I struck it where it hurts because not only did I not care about if she would loathe me for my words, but I wanted it to.

suddenly, I'm being manhandled until my back falls against the couch in our practice room, yunjin's weight pressing me down. my hands struggle to push her off and break free, but her stronger grip grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the arm rest of the sofa.

"fuck off of me jen!" I yell at her, body wriggling under her own.

her free hand suddenly takes hold of my neck and squeezes, forcing my throat to let out a struggled squeak and breath.

"shut the fuck up whore! I'm so tired of your yapping!" the girl above me growls and tightens her hold on both my wrists and neck.

I look up at her with fear growing in my eyes, and I can see the pure rage on her face. I'm incapable of moving my arms and hands free of her iron grip, and it steadily gets harder to breathe as I feel her nails, though short, dig into my skin.

"you're insufferable. you think I'm a weak sorry bitch with no power over you, huh? let me remind you otherwise since you're too braindead to remember how strong I am."

yunjin's gaze is wild. the fire in her eyes has no sign of calming and the clench in her jaw as she lowers her face towards mine doesn't release any tension. but as she nears herself and comes unfathomably close, there's no denying the lust that clouds her dilated pupils.

as my breathing becomes impossible and I get lightheaded, my senses increase and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear her shaky breath and feel it reach my face. her knee in between my thighs presses against my core and I release a choked whimper.

"I'm gonna treat you like my own sex toy and you're gonna want me to fuck your brains out after I lay waste to your body. you are gonna be my fuck doll and you're gonna love every second of it, you hear me? dirty little slut."

I'm simultaneously terrified of the intensity and escalation of the situation, but I'm also unbelievably horny at this point. the ache in between my legs grows hot and I feel it start to throb with the way her knee digs deeper into my core.

"I can't..." I manage to choke out, pleading with the darting of my eyes focusing on her face and between her intense glare.

yunjin eventually releases tension on my throat, and I can breathe again, oxygen slowly enabling itself to run through my lungs again. the lustful stare never wavers, however, and both of our gazes are fixed on each other's eyes.

"I don't care if you can't take it, I'm gonna make you."

with that, she moves her hand, once choking my neck, and grasps around it, fingers clutching my nape, her head diving in to begin leaving sloppy kisses trailing my jaw downwards. the pressure on my airways is gone, but my breath still stops in my throat as her mouth kisses, sucks, and bites harshly at my neck.

"w-wait... don't do t-that..." I stutter, telling her to slow down or stop.

"shut the fuck up." she growls aggressively against my ear, "I'm gonna have you however I want."

there's no room for protest as I feel the hand on my neck trail down my collarbone and between my breasts, her finger circling around my right boob and going inwards, finally pinching the nipple at the middle.

"nghh.." the noise in my throat releases on its own.

"my little slut, so easy to use. why else wouldn't you wear a bra under such a mesh shirt? you wanted this so bad, didn't you?"

the treatment of my boobs and nipples harshens as she's suddenly slapping her hand against them, watching as they jiggle under my thin shirt. I yelp out in pain, still feeling my core rush with wetness.

"you're wearing too much," yunjin scoffs.

her hand pops open all the buttons of my shirt and fingers return to harassing my hard buds. my body struggles under her again as her tongue drags along my neck and across my collarbone, the sharp bites of her teeth occasionally making me tug at the harsh grip at my wrists again.

the noises of her mouth on my skin are so wet, I can even hear her heavy breathing and small moans escape, intensifying the pleasure building in my lower stomach. I can't help but release a deep groan at one of my abused nipples being enveloped by her needy mouth.

"f-fuck.. no, s-stop- ahhhh..." I try to get out.

my words are drowned out by the sounds of my whimpers growing louder and the slurping of my tit in her mouth. my eyes struggle to keep open, watching her tongue flick around my bud, yunjin switching to my other boob, repeating everything all the same.

"can you stop moving? god, I'm doing something here and your flailing is infuriating." she let's out a frustrated huff before detaching completely from my body, reaching for something underneath the couch.

my hands are free for a second before I feel cold steel capture my wrists, cuffing them together and securing them on a pipe against the wall.

"so much better." she states satisfied before bringing both her hands to slap both of the sides of my boobs.

I let out an unstable shout at the stinging pain that followed, and it only continued as she grasped at my chest with both hands and kneads at them needily.

"jen... please, ahhh.." I whimper out.

"huh? what was that y/n? you need to speak up for me." she continues her abuse on my tits as my eyes water.

"it hurts..." I manage.

"oh is that so? too bad I don't really care. after all, if I were weak, it wouldn't hurt so much right?" yunjin says in a mocking tone.

her hands become aggressive, dragging themselves down my body and grasping hard at my waist, squeezing my thighs, before landing a harsh slap on my ass, one side, then the next.

"yunjin ah! please! fuck, it hurts..."

"a powerless little girl like me shouldn't be able to harm you, right y/n-ie?"

fuck you huh yunjin.

my eyes are still squeezed shut as I feel her start to unbuckle my pants and zip them down, taking my jeans off of me. my core is absolutely throbbing with desire, panties soaked.

she places a finger at the hem of my underwear, dragging the digit down, trailing my mound, to my aching clit, through my leaking entrance, then pinching the material and letting it snap back into place, warranting a shiver down my spine at the feeling.

"I should've known a whore like you would be drenched after all that. you kick and whine about how much it hurts but look at how much you fucking love it."

it's hard to argue with her when the anticipation to feel her relieve my desire grows stronger the more she messes with me.

"don't worry darling, I'll ruin you perfectly."

I feel my panties get pushed to the side before a hot and wet muscle is felt at the base of my entrance trailing up slowly, until there's a hard suck at my bundle of nerves.

"fuckkkkk ahhhh!!!" I let out an involuntary scream at the feeling.

god it feels so good, my eyes squeezed shut as her onslaught of eating me out continues, hard and fast. she bends my knees and forces my legs apart, holding my thighs so she has free reign of my pussy.

"mmm, it's in the way," I hear her mumble before a loud tear is heard, assumedly from my panties.

I could care less when she sucks hard with her mouth over both my clit and hole, tongue darting between circling my bundle of nerves and digging into my pussy. I tug hard at my restraints, wanting so badly to grasp her luscious dark hair and push her into me.

my hips move on their own, trying to grind against her mouth, but they fail when yunjin's hands push my thighs apart again and she wraps her arms around them, hands on my waist. I force my eyes open and look down at her, what a sight.

her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. so unlike the rapid and desperate licking, sucking, and moaning coming out of her sinful mouth. the grip on my waist is firm but so gentle, her thumbs rubbing softly against my skin. she only takes a hand off of my waist to run fingers through her hair, pushing it back to have all the room she needs to indulge in my waterfall. yunjin definitely craved this more than me.

moans continued to slip out of my mouth, fueling her on.

"you're so delicious, this pussy is mine," I feel her mumble against my lips though still audible.

"fuck me jen, more more more, ahhh, yes, keep going just like that, oh my god!!!"

I was about to shut my eyes again until she looked up at me. through half lidded eyes, it almost looked like they were completely black, pupils so blown it was hard to tell if she was human. the desire was so fiery in her eyes and looking up at me only drew her in further, digging her face into my pussy.

her tongue dug impossibly deep into my hole, flicking wildly inside of me, making me arch my back in immense pleasure. her nose rubbing against my hot clit contributed to the build up of my impending climax.

the hold on my waist tightened, securing my hips down to the sofa, her eyes closed again as I shut my own as well, the noises coming from a mixture of my leaking pussy and her lewd slurping were indescribably orgasmic, the desperate moaning slipping from both of our mouths were borderline embarrassing if it weren't for our soundproof walls covering the sounds of sin.

"jennifer oh my god fuck fuck please, shit. b-baby... I'm, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum sosososo hard..." I rambled.

I heard as I continued to incoherently mumble anything that came to mind as I felt her grip on my waist start to hurt, nails digging into my skin, making my lower half impossible to move.

"give me your cum now, let me drink you," yunjin says with the sexiest most raspy voice I've heard from her.

a low moan from deep in her throat against my pussy vibrates against my clit, her tongue thrusting into my hole repeatedly at insane speeds. it was so overwhelming and more than enough to launch me over the edge.

my vision disappeared, my body shook viscerally, my mouth fell open and loud screaming came out of it as I orgasmed with so much pleasure. I felt my pussy gush cum into yunjin's expectant mouth, her tongue continuing to flail in me. I struggle hard against the restraints still, feeling my wrists sting with every tug. I can't think straight, my body shaking with every wave of pleasure that runs through me.

I fall limp, my head shaking left to right and mumbles coming out of my mouth. yunjin calms her pace and gives kitten licks up and down my slit, lapping up any other juices I released that she missed. her grip on my waist loosens, and they caress my sides carefully. she makes her way up to meet my face, planting abnormally soft kisses in her wake, her hands softly caressing my red skin. all the slap markings, all the bites, all the hickies, all the nail marks, spots red, spots bloody, her touch eases the pain.

"y/n..." she whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

I can't even open my eyes as the exhaustion hits me hard. I hear her mess with the pipe and cuffs around my wrists before I feel my hands fall against the arm rest again, freeing my arms finally. yunjin picks both of them up and places gentle pecks all around both wrists, slowly spreading her comfort across my entire body.

"jen..." a croak somehow comes out of my mouth.

"baby..." her voice, gentle...

"are you okay angel?" she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

my heart stops beating but resumes at the speed of sound after a moment.

I can't respond, and so she comes closer to my face and cups my cheek with a careful hand, intently observing my expression and condition. I feel her thumb softly caress my bottom lip and her stare fall onto my slightly open mouth.

"I.. I'm..." I can't form another word as the exhaustion catches up and my eyes fall shut.

every other sense of mine is alert, I'm still fully conscious, but my eyes refuse to open, they simply can't. I feel yunjin come closer to me then suddenly small kisses tracing my jaw, lips against my ear.

"you can rest y/n-ie, I'll do the rest."

wait, what?

her hand that was once on my face trails down my body, tracing over all the marks again, before her slender fingers slip between my folds, causing my entire body to jolt.

"jen?!" I shriek out, my hands flying to grip her arms.

"shhh, just relax. I told you already, you're just my little sex toy, I need to get my usage out of you."

fuck, I should've known she was feigning generosity.

I had no time to respond as after gathering enough of my cum from my last orgasm, yunjin swiftly slips two fingers into my tired cunt.

"FUCK!" I scream out.

my body reacts on its own, shaking against her warm body leaning against me.

"you've got another one in you, don't you?"

her pace picks up quickly, my pussy burning at the speed. suddenly, her thumb rubs harshly against my overstimulated clit, causing me to cry out.

"t-too much! please!" I sob into her shoulder.

yunjin's body hovers over mine, holding me close. one of my hands gripping her arm pumping in and out of me, the other clutching the back of her shirt, my face wet with tears flowing in her shoulder, melting into her neck.

"you should've thought about that before you talked shit huh?"

"I- I can't!"

"I already told you I don't fucking care y/n, how many times do I have to say it?"

I feel my own tears stain the taller girl's shirt as her fingers ram into my abused hole over and over again, pulling out all the way just to slam back into me again. I scream intensely when a third finger is added, immediately hitting that euphoric spot inside.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant between every pump of her swift fingers.

"you truly make the perfect little cum slut don't you?"

"jen, ah, ah, ah, please, fuck..."

"what is it baby? feel it coming again?"

I moan out an incomprehensible 'yes' in response, to which I feel yunjin smile against my forehead, planting a sweet peck.

"beg me angel, beg me to keep fucking you until you cum."

my eyes roll back into my head, tears still spilling out and hands gripping for dear life. even if I wanted to beg, I don't think I'm physically capable.

her fingers still inside of me, stopping her movement on my pussy entirely, even on my clit. I whine loudly in response, legs shaking and grip tightening on her.

"no no please yunjin, I- I need you, I need you to keep fucking me. I need to finish, I need your fingers, I'm so close jinny, please please, god please let me cum. I can't, I can't take it, it hurts, it hurts so bad, jen oh god please, don't fucking stop. I need you to keep going, please don't stop now, please please jen-"

my rambling is interrupted by her fingers pounding into my cunt once again, with impossible speed, making my throat strain with another uncontrollable scream of pleasure.

"let it go, give it to me y/n. I want to feel it gush around me again, I need to feel your body fall apart."

and just as quickly as it started, it ended. an explosion of euphoria ripples through me again, I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I moan deafeningly, my fingers sinking into yunjin's body and holding on for dear life. her fingers continue to get sucked into me, clenching hard onto her long digits as she rubs my clit still.

"yes, that's my girl, give it all to me."

my body is shaking, with every subtle touch yunjin does to me, it reacts. my mouth stays open as I can feel the saliva drool out, my eyes barely open but it's no use, it's not like I can see anything clearly.

"your body is just meant for this y/n, I was right. my perfect little angel, the best fuck doll for me."

her fingers slip out of me and I grunt at the loss of fullness. out of the very small field of view I have, I watch as she sucks the juices off her fingers, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor, licking up each of them one by one.

"you're doing so well, but baby..." she leans in and mumbles against my lips, "give me one more."

there's no room for resistance as she moves to get into position. what a menace huh yunjin is. she already knows I'm fucked out of my mind that I'm physically incapable of doing anything. I've always been really sensitive and she's using that weakness against me ten fold.

I try my best to pay attention to what she's doing, watching as she slides her shorts and panties down her legs, the two articles of clothing absolutely soaked. she gets on top of me again and lifts one of my legs up, wrapping it around her waist, her straddling my pussy with her own, interlocking our legs.

"it's finally my turn. fuckkk..."

she moans out as she starts to grind her pussy against mine. every thrust makes my body jolt with overstimulation, I don't know how to take it anymore.

however, watching huh yunjin roll her hips against me, her hands placing my own on her waist, watching as she throws her head back and sweat drips down her long neck, my pleasure grows again. the woman looks ethereal riding me, using my body to get off, it's unreal how delectable watching her fuck me is.

"f-faster, h-harder, jen..." both of us look surprised when I manage to speak.

a sinister smirk crawls and spreads across the aforementioned woman's face, hands on my thighs tapping in approval, "of course darling, who am I to deny?"

and so she fucks me harder, so much harder. so much fucking faster. I immediately see stars and the squelching lewd noises of our sopping cunts fill my ears, accompanied by the pornographic moans from both of us. I feel the rhythmic pattern of yunjin's hips rolling against me with my hands on her waist.

I pull her forward against me, thrusting my own hips up into her, gaining leverage and screaming out in pleasure as our clits bump repeatedly because of this.

"fuck y/n! you're so good at this, don't... don't you dare give out on me right now, you feel too fucking incredible."

the girl above me has her head down facing my own, eyes screwed shut, face scrunched up looking focused, mouth hanging open. one of my hands feel up her body, trailing up her covered front and grazing her nipples, eliciting a groan to come from her throat. my hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to my face, making her open her eyes and make eye contact with me.

we stare straight into each others' eyes, observing the expressions on our faces, memorizing the view forever. I hate this girl so much, I hate her with my entire being, but she's beautiful, she's goddess-like, and she's absolutely perfect in my trembling hands, looking into my eyes like I'm the only one in her world.

yunjin leans in to finally kiss me, plump and soft lips roughly clashing against my own. I desperately chase to reciprocate the passion she pushes into my mouth, forcing my tongue into her and ramming it down her throat, making her moan out. her mouth feels like heaven on earth as I melt into her delicious strawberry flavored lips, tongue and her saliva tasting like all the cum she sucked out of my cunt just moments prior.

her thrusts become sloppy and I feel my hole start to clench around nothing as we moan into each others' mouth.

"cum with me love, cum with me, please baby, I need you." her voice shaky and sounding vulnerable.

I open my eyes one last time to look up at her, eyes getting watery too. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and pull away with my teeth, letting it go with a pop.

"I'm cumming love, I'm cumming..." I warn her.

I pull her into me and hug her, embracing her tightly as she painfully grips my thighs, stilling her hips and feeling her warmth leak all over my pussy. I moan along with her, screaming out in blinding pleasure, my heat flooding both of our thighs and running down my legs, onto the couch under.

she collapses on top of me, her entire body weight covering me completely. I snuggle my face into her neck, placing soft kisses around every area I could reach.

"are you okay?" I ask softly into her ear.

I'm met with no response but soft breathing near my ear. I peer over to look at her face and she's out cold.

I giggle softly at the gorgeous woman sprawled out on top of me, legs intertwined, cum running down our legs, her lips bruised and red.

"I think I won this argument jennifer."

a/n - i'm just realizing that this barely had any actual band dynamics or anything and that makes me sad bc i love that shit so much. sob, oh well maybe another time (part???). my first idea for this concept was slow down by chase atlantic but then i switched it bc i feel like i could write a better plot for the lyric i orginally chose so stay tuned mayhaps in the future. anyways, hiiiii first post pls don't bully me tumblr is foreign land to me but writing is not though I haven't written in months 😙 enjoy first fic w my actual gf (like actually fr fr huh yunjin is my gf she proofread this-)

805 notes · View notes

ms-demeanor · 8 months

Note

Atheist condolence card like "sucks that your grandpa no longer exists and you'll never see him again, oh well"

I mean, I'm looking for a condolence card for a Jewish family (found a pretty good one, will be adding a note about a shared memory of the deceased and hopes for the mourners that their memory may be a blessing).

But also I have no idea why people find the concept of an afterlife comforting. Legitimately, that is unappealing to me and the idea that I would be artificially separated from the people that I love and reintroduced to them after a period of separation if there was no need for that time of mourning and loss seems. Bullshit? It seems like bullshit? Capricious and cruel at best?

Anyway when my grandpa died we got a phone call when they tossed is ashes into the ocean and we never saw him again! Being reminded that we wouldn't see him in an afterlife wasn't the sad part, the sad part was knowing that we wouldn't know him anymore, that we'd be on one side of a growing divide, that there was a before and an after and we had left him behind while we had to move forward. It wouldn't have been comforting to think "well perhaps someday when I have lived my life without him, I will see him again in a place where nothing from this life (all the things that I have done, all the things that he taught me) will matter because they were worldly and unimportant."

What was comforting at that time, and after the very many family deaths that I have experienced (and I've experienced a lot! I've been comfortable with the idea that I'll never see my loved ones again when they're gone since I was a very small child!), and what I suspect is comforting even for religious people who have experienced a loss is to be reminded of the people who are still on the same side of that dividing line, who we can still love and adore and support and make memories with.

Anyway. I'm an atheist at least partially because of my grandfather, who was a magician and a skeptic and took great joy in skewering the supernatural. It would be an insult to his memory to think that he was an angel lighting up a star in heaven or whatever the christian condolence cards say.

My grandpa did a sexy comedy magical immolation of my grandmother in front of crowds; there was a devil on the flier.

(grandma's the one on the right)

Pictured: Not someone who had much reverence for death or much patience for the supernatural:

(Funny story, when my dad came to visit this week he saw a 2-post 52U server rack on the driveway from a distance and asked me "where did you guys get the guillotine? Did I leave that here?")

But my family is probably *unusually* atheist and irreverent.

For atheists in general I don't know why people think that it's more upsetting to acknowledge the truth (that once people are dead you won't see them anymore) than to be told "comforting" lies (that you will see dead people again at some mystical place that you have no access to or proof of).

I *hate* hearing "they're in a better place" when I'm mourning someone I loved because that's something that's comforting for a religious person to say but dismisses both the way that I mourn and (frequently in my family) the beliefs of the deceased. They are not in a better place, they are *gone* and I don't want to imagine that they're somewhere waiting for me to join them again, I want to remember them for who they were and accept that they aren't in my life anymore.

"They're in heaven now" "they're with the angels now" "they're with their maker" - none of those things are true and they reflect an extremely limited worldview that I don't share and find pretty insipid actually! Thank you for trying to comfort me you are doing a poor job of it I'm going to go hang out and talk to someone who actually knew them and we'll share stories of what an asshole they were and what kind of crazy nonsense they got up to and what a big, important part of our lives they were and we'll start trying to make sense of how to fill the hole left behind with something practical and joyful and fun and honest that they would have loved instead of cardboard angel wings.

946 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 10 months

Note

Hi, love! So i’m not sure if your taking requests but i have a prompt for joel and you’re currently my favorite joel writer so 🥰 i can’t get this idea out of my head of reader being joel’s neighbor and being extremely nice and kind to everyone (especially to him and ellie cause she has feelings for him duh) and he’s kinda in love with her too but won’t admit it (ellie knows and nags him about it) but he also kinda judges her and thinks she’s “weak” cause she’s “too soft”, and then one day for whatever reason he ends up snapping at her and saying that “you have no idea what it is to lose a child” only to later find out from tommy that reader actually lost a baby under pretty awful circumstances and then he’s mortified but she’s super mad at him? I have no idea where this came from i guess i just like pain 🤷‍♀️ totally understand if you don’t feel like it though! Tks babe

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of child death

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The pie in your hands smelled delicious, still warm and fresh, as you waited on Joel's porch. You rocked back and forth on your heels as you listened for his familiar footsteps to come to the door. Just when you were about to give up and save it for later, the door slowly opened.

"Hey," there was Joel, leaning against the doorway with a lazy little smile on his face, "what a pleasant surprise."

"Me or the pie?" You always managed to fall into an easy rapport with him. Your back and forth always seemed to turn from teasing to flirting, honestly? You loved it.

"Oh, you brought pie? I didn't even notice," your cheeks warmed up at his response. You shook your head and sighed playfully at him. He stepped aside and motioned for you to follow him, "do you want to come in?"

"I suppose I can spare you a few minutes of my precious time," you flashed him a pretty smile as you flounced past him. Making your way into the kitchen, you set the pie down before uncovering it to show him, "I even made your favorite."

"You spoil me," he practically groaned at the sight of the delicious treat. He immediately turned to the cabinets to grab some plates, "what's the occasion?"

"There's none," you grabbed some forks and knives, "the trees produced so many apples we couldn't use them fast enough. I figured pie was a good solution and I know you love it. So here we are."

"Here we are," he agreed softly, "thank you, darlin'."

"No need to thank me," you sat down and cut into the pie, "you just owe me now."

"I am forever in your debt," he down across from you, a knowing little look in his pretty brown eyes. You made a small sound of agreement as you passed him a slice, "whatever you want, just name it."

"I'll take you up on that offer."

"Good."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should tell her you know,” Ellie broke the silence over dinner as she looked over at Joel from across the table. He froze with his fork about halfway to his mouth. He stuffed the bite into his mouth and took his sweet time swallowing it before sighing and raising an eyebrow at her, “don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I do,” he admitted, figuring it was better to admit to the truth rather than lie to her. She looked so pleased with herself as she leaned back in her seat, “but I ain’t doing anything about anything. Get that into your head, kiddo.”

“Why not?” she huffed, waving her hand dismissively at him, “you’re so lame. Ugh.”

“Maybe I am,” he agreed with a nod of his head, “but your opinion isn’t going to change anything. I am okay with how things are right now. There’s no need to go and change things up.”

“But she feels the same way!” and it really was obvious; everyone knew. You also knew that everyone knew. It was like the worst kept secret in Jackson, “one of you has to make a move eventually.”

“Ellie-”

“Joel,” she looked at him seriously, her small face taking on a dire expression, “you’re being stupid.”

“Ellie.”

“You’re denying yourself potential happiness,” Joel had to admit that she had a point, regardless of whether or not he would act on it. He was so happy around you, you made him feel so alive and carefree and loved. You were like his very own ray of sunshine. He could only imagine what it would be like if the two of you added romance to the equation. It wasn’t hard to imagine what it would be like to kiss you and touch you and make love to you. It really would have been like a dream, “and her. Plus you’d be so cute together!”

“With that logic, she’s also denying herself happiness,” he wondered if you thought about him the way he thought about you. He’d be lucky if you even spared him more than a passing thought, “so, have you given her this speech?”

“Not yet,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders, “I was going to try you first. She’s usually the more logical one…so.”

“So,” Joel mirrored Ellie’s position and crossed his arms over his broad chest, “you’ll leave her alone and drop this.”

“Not a chance!”

“I didn’t think so,” the girl shoved the last mouthful of food into her mouth, “I’m going to her.”

“I know,” Joel drummed his fingers along the table and let out a resigned sigh, “I know.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite Ellie's insistence that he tell you how he feels, he didn't do anything about it. Namely, he couldn't manage to work up the courage to do so. To him, admitting that he had feelings for you was akin to admitting he was weak. Feelings made people soft and made things harder when, inevitably, the relationship would end one way or another. Why would he willing put himself through that again? It had almost killed him when he'd lost Sarah and later when the same happened with Tess. If it hadn't been for Ellie, he wasn't sure he'd have made it. But Ellie was going to be around forever either.

It was a complicated tangle of emotions, and the best solution for him had to been to keep a few people, currently Tommy and Ellie, close while others remained behind a wall.

You, meanwhile, loved and cared for people so openly. It was easy to see that in everything you said and did. You had a giant heart, but you were just setting yourself for failure. One day something bad would happen and you'd fall apart. Joel wasn't sure he could handle that.

He didn't want to lose you; he loved you, he really did, but he also didn't want his heart to break.

Ellie had come to you as well and pushed you to profess your feelings. While not as in denial about everything as Joel, you weren't about to make that first leap. What if you overstepped and pushed him away? You didn't want that; you'd rather keep him as a friend than lose him entirely.

You'd noticed over the last couple of weeks that something had been nagging at Joel. You didn't push the issue, but hoped he'd trust you enough to confide in you at some point.

It turned out that some point didn't come as you expected.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had come over to your house, and the two of you were making dinner together. It was a routine you'd often fall into and it felt so blissfully domestic. You'd never really made a comment about it before, but something caused you to feel a certain amount of bravado and led you to actually pointing it out.

"You know, this is so much like playing house," you teased softly as you nudged his side with your elbow.

"It does," he agreed with a small smile. He liked the idea of living with you permanently. If he was being honest, the thought of sleeping with you and waking up to you in his arms, of spending lazy evenings in a tangle of limbs was something that crossed his mind more than he cared to admit. In another life, he'd have made those moves already and might have even called you this wife, "kinda nice."

"Mhmm," you continued chopping away at the fresh vegetables that you'd picked for dinner, "all that's missing now is a couple of kids running around."

He stiffened for a moment, his mind first going to the image of you round and pregnant with his child and then to sheer terror. Kids were all well and good, but something just told him they would be a bad idea. He remained silent and kept his gaze on the stove.

"You ever think about having kids in the future?" you had hesitated for a moment before asking but, how did that old saying go? Curiosity killed the cat?

"No," he said without a second thought. It was a lie, of course it was. He'd thought about it a lot, especially since he'd met you.

"Oh," your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden shift in emotion. You focused on what was in front of you rather than anything else. Something was off and you could immediately sense that you might have said the wrong thing. It was still hard for you too sometimes, "I'm sure that it's still…hard. Losing your daughter….I'm sure it was the hardest thing ever. I l-"

“Don’t,” there was a furious look on his face and you couldn’t help the way you recoiled away from him. He’d gone through such a shift in emotions that it was a little scary - you’d never seen him like this before, “don’t fucking talk about my daughter.”

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything by it,” you felt a few hot, salty tears run down your cheeks. You took a step back to create a distance between yourself, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your sweater, “I was just saying-”

“You don’t know shit,” he stormed towards the door and threw it open harshly. You were surprised that it didn’t fall off the hinges, “you have no clue what it’s like to lose a child.”

With that, he stormed off, leaving you there staring in shock. Your mind was still trying to process what was going on as you closed the door. Your whole body felt like it was trembling as you leaned against the counter and took a few deep breaths.

That wasn’t him, is what you tried to keep telling yourself. That wasn’t your Joel…he would never have talked to you like that. A sensitive topic had been brought up and he was hurting…anyone could have responded in such a manner.

But, you decided, you’d give him some space. Maybe seeing you wasn’t the best thing for him right now….you were sure he’d come to you when he was ready to. Until then you would just love and support him from a distance; but that was the thing and you hoped he knew it too - you’d always love him. Not matter what happened, Joel Miller had your heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey big brother,” Tommy caught Joel’s attention as he walked into the tavern, flashing him a meek smile. Joel looked up and offered a wave in a sign of acknowledgment. Before he could say anything else, Tommy’s fist collided with his face, causing him to stumble off his stool. He clutched at his face, surprised by the sudden attack, “heard you were being an asshole.”

“What the fuck!?” Joel clutched at his face in shock as he took in Tommy's angry expression. And here he thought that they were getting along well these days. But then he said - your name, "listen-"

"No, you listen," Tommy grabbed by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer so only he could hear his next words, "I can't believe you yelled at her. And you told her she doesn't know what it's like to lose a child? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" Joel's brows furrowed in confusion. Yes, he hated himself for yelling at you, but it had all been in the moment. He agreed with that part anyway, "what are you talking about?"

"You're an idiot and an asshole," Tommy shook his head, "you're not the only one who's lost everything. You're not the only one who's lost their child."

"W-what?"

"She lost her son," Joel's face fell as realization crashed over him like an icy wave, "to one of those clicker bastards. It almost got her too. You ever notice that scar on her face? Now you know where it comes from."

"Tommy-"

"Next time don't assume you know everything," he shoved him and put a bit of distance between themselves, "don't ever be a dick to her again. It won't end well."

With that, Tommy left Joel sitting there with a sore face and aching heart. Not that it was undeserved, but still. Joel knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure you'd give him the time of day. But you were so good and kind that he realistically knew that you'd let him explain.

All those things that he thought had made you weak actually made you so stronger. Much stronger than he was apparently.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late in the evening a couple of days later when he knocked at your door. You were both surprised but in a way had been expecting him. It was Joel after all, and the two of you shared a special bond; it wouldn’t be so easily broken.

“H-hi,” his cheeks immediately pinked when he saw your pretty face and he felt like either running away and never looking back or throwing up then and there. You offered him a small smile in return but otherwise remained silent, “I, uh, I wanted to…I came to…apologize. I’m sorry for the other day. It doesn’t excuse it, but I was just wanted to let you know. So…yeah.”

“Do you want to come in?” you asked softly, causing him to look at you in pure awe.

"I-what?"

"I just made some tea," you stepped aside and beckoned for him to follow, "I couldn't sleep so I thought it might help."

He was incredulous as he stepped into your kitchen and watched you make him a cup. In the warm yellow light of the kitchen, he studied you intently. He noticed the scar running from your cheek and disappearing into your temple. It wasn't the first time he spotted the scar but it was the first time he made the connection.

"Why?" He asked as he sat down across from you, pulling the cup of tea closer, "why aren't you telling me to go fuck myself and leave?"

"There's no reason to," you shrugged before taking a long, thoughtful sip of your tea, "I assume Tommy told you by now."

"How'd you know?"

"I can see the bruising on your face," you reached over and gently ghosted your finger along his skin, "and no one would dare to hit you besides him. Or maybe Ellie."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and giving it a squeeze, "I had no clue."

"It's not something I usually go and advertise," you sat back in your seat and exhaled slowly, "losing a child isn't easy. It doesn't really get easier but time lessens the sting. I can tell you more about…him and everything that happened sometime. If you want to hear it, but not tonight. Tonight we can just…just be."

"Yes," he reached for your hand and put his hand on top of yours, "I know it doesn't seem like it but I…care for you. Very deeply."

"I know you do, Joel," your assurance made him feel so much lighter; it felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders, "I care for you too. There's a lot we still have to learn about each other Joel, but I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here."

"Me too," there was a hopeful smile on his face as you squeezed his hand, "I'm not going anywhere."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

815 notes · View notes

awearywritersworld · 7 months

Text

late nights and possibilities

gojo satoru x reader summary: a late night run in with the man you thought you hated changes your perception of him entirely w/c: 1.4k tags/warnings: smidge of angst to fluff, smoochin, mentions of trouble sleeping, it's implied that you're a teacher too, gn!reader, platonic!nanami, no use of y/n a/n: no manga spoilers, but all the angst floating around threatened to crush my barely beating heart, so i have crawled out of my hole to write this. masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

"i can't stand him, ken," you groan at your friend for what is probably the thousandth time.

he's situated in the arm chair in your apartment, while you're sprawled across the couch.

"mhm," he hums along, his eyes never leaving the book in his lap.

"i'm serious. the next smart ass comment he makes, i'm going to grab him by the neck and-" you make a violent gesture in the space in front of you, huffing frustratedly.

nanami snorts, equally amused and bewildered. they were obvious to him, the repressed feelings shared between you and gojo satoru. in fact, everyone at jujutsu tech was privy to it, save for the pair of you.

it's only when you continue complaining that he finally closes his book, leaning forward to regard you with raised eyebrows.

"are you alright? you only gripe like this if something is really bothering you."

your mouth falls open. "i'm not griping. it's a simple matter of truthful observation."

"yeah, yeah. whatever you say. you're still avoiding the question."

you sigh. "i'm fine. haven't slept well the past few nights is all."

he settles back into the chair, and if you knew him any less, you would have missed the concern that flickers across his features. "any reason why?"

you wave your hand dismissively. "not really, just kinda happens sometimes. it'll pass soon enough." a stifled yawn marks your apparent disinterest in the matter.

he accepts your answer, though not without mumbling something about your habit of drinking caffeine in the evening, then returns to his book.

as you lay in bed that night, you roll your eyes while thinking back on the conversation. you hadn't one bit of caffeine since the morning, yet you're still condemned to consciousness as the hours grow late.

no matter how tightly you pull the blankets around yourself, you can't get warm enough. and no matter how frequently you adjust your pillows, you can't get comfortable enough.

with a defeated sigh, you eventually throw the covers back, crawling out of bed with the hope that a warm cup of tea and the fireplace in the staff lounge might be able to lull you to sleep.

your feet drag with each step you take and you find yourself thankful it's not too far from your room. rubbing at your eyes, you slide the door open and though you sense another presence, your bleary vision keeps you from seeing them clearly.

once he calls out your name, however, you consider sliding the door shut and resigning yourself to yet another sleepless night. "what are you doing awake? it's two in the morning."

you don't process the uncharacteristic softness of his tone, your response tumbling out of your mouth without much thought. "thanks, big ben. i hadn't noticed."

by now your vision had returned to normal and you see him standing a few meters away, eyeing your obvious hesitation as you stand in the doorway.

you're caught off guard by his worn out appearance, as it's seldom he's anything less than irritatingly chipper.

"sorry," you begin. "i should go back to my room."

"you can stay, if you want." he scratches the back of his neck, his eyes flickering toward the kettle whirring off to the side, apparently sharing in your desire for some tea. "there's enough water for two cups."

"okay," you agree after a moment, though it comes out so quietly you're unsure if he could even hear it.

padding over to the couch in front of the fireplace, you're pleased to find that it's already lit, the soft light from the flames flickering across the walls in a soothing way.

it's not long before he joins you, sitting just a foot or two away and passing you the tea he'd prepared. you can't help but notice how small his cup looks in his hands.

"thanks," you murmur.

it's silent after that, the only sound in the room coming from the crackling of the wood. you briefly entertain a vague notion about how odd it is for the man to be so subdued.

gojo keeps glancing at you from the corner of his eye, observing how the flames dance in your own. you fail to notice.

"i haven't poisoned it, you know," he eventually says.

you jump a little, having spaced out, and look to him before your gaze shifts to your tea. the reassurance makes you narrow your eyes in (mostly) feigned suspicion.

"oh for gods sake." he pulls it from your grasp, taking a sip of it before shoving it back into your hands.

you're not sure what possesses you, but you let out a small giggle at the action. he follows suit, a breathy chuckle passing his lips.

maybe it's the lateness of the hour, or perhaps a touch of sleepy glibness, but easy conversation falls between the two of you after that. he asks you about your latest mission with yuuji, then tells you about a new mochi shop he recently discovered, suggesting that you tag along next time he goes.

the fire isn't nearly as lively now and your tea is long gone, so you reach for a blanket, unfolding it before situating yourself beneath it.

"are you just going to leave me out here all alone in the cold? c'mon now, that's just cruel."

a furious warmth creeps across your cheeks, a small smile tugging at your lips. god, you really are sleep deprived.

"careful," you warn, spreading the blanket over his lap as well. "some people might interpret that as flirting."

"hm, only some? i'll have to work on being less subtle, then." his arm moves to the back of the couch, resting behind your head.

you turn to face him despite the fact that your face now feels even hotter than the dying fire, and for once, you can't seem to think up a witty comeback for the shameless sorcerer.

he thinks the look on your face is just too cute.

then, without any deliberation— as if he had meant to do it all along— he leans forward and kisses you. it's fleeting. so quick, in fact, that if it weren't for the shit eating grin on his face, you'd be questioning whether it happened at all.

ohhhh. you must have fallen asleep at some point and while you're happy to finally get some rest, you could have done without this very strange dream.

"it's not often i see you speechless, sweetheart."

however, when his hand brushes your hair behind your ear, then rests comfortably against your cheek, the goosebumps that spread down your limbs feel very real, indeed. it's the sound of your name falling from his lips that finally grounds you in reality.

the grin is gone from his face, replaced now by a soft, lazy smile. "can i kiss you again?"

you glance down at his lips before nodding almost imperceptibly. "yes."

his mouth finds yours once more and this time, you're struck by how gently his lips press against your own. you hardly notice his hand moving to the back of your neck, the other toward your hip hoping to pull you closer. you're too caught up in how sweet he tastes.

it's a miserable sort of ecstasy, really. the way he feels against you isn't like anything you've ever experienced and it forces you to come to terms with feelings you've spent the last few years trying to deny.

when he pulls away, his expression is one of warm contentment. "can't tell you how long i've been wanting to do that."

"me too," you admit, feeling less shy.

and just like that, you're both back to your easy conversation. you don't know who finds sleep first, or what time it finally happens, but it's a deep and dreamless slumber you fall into...

nanami (who spends a considerable amount of time in the staff lounge for someone who insists he isn't a teacher, but that's beside the point) stumbles upon the two of you the next morning. your head is resting against gojo's chest, your hand on his stomach. his arm is wrapped around you securely and you're both still sleeping soundly beneath the blanket.

the blonde turns around, shutting the door behind him quietly, before venturing off to collect a well earned fifty yen from utahime.

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru fluff

800 notes · View notes

eamour · 8 months

Text

method﹕revision

definition

to revise means to reconsider something in order to correct or improve it. in a manifestation related sense, it means to erase and change the outcome of events in your life that have already taken place. all in all, revising is a way to manifest. a way not to create but to recreate.

all things revision

time does not exist in terms of past, present or future since they only exist in your mind. what you declare to be your past, in fact, is just what you are able to recall. your memory is just a state of consciousness that you have defined as your "past". we can only ever experience now and what we are conscious of in this given moment.

when we speak of "revising an event" or "changing the past", it's not our focus to change what has already happened — well, it is, but rather than focusing on changing the event, we focus on changing ourselves. just like neville goddard said, no one to change but self.

let's say you are dissatisfied with an event from the past. see, whenever you remember it, and express that you don't like it, you relive it in your mind, resurrecting that state. the moment you recall those past memories, you once again become aware of it — and as long as you remain in that same state and keep the memory as it is, it will and can not be altered.

it is very much up to you what you decide to keep within your consciousness and which experiences you choose to carry with you. your memories, your past experiences, ... they are all just in your mind. they only represent your imagination. your present assumptions therefore have very much influence on who you are now and who you "have been", aka the way you choose to remember yourself right now.

revision in steps

1 ⋮ choose. what does the old story look like? and what does your new story look like? become clear about both, the unfavourable and the favourable.

2 ⋮ change. declare that the old story no longer serves you, that it no longer depicts the "truth" and embody the version of you that identifies with the new story. replace your old assumptions regarding your past and redirect them to your liking. do not just assume but really accept that your past experiences happened just accordingly to your new, desired story.

3 ⋮ persist. now that you have rewritten your story to your liking, you need to be consistent with it. you have re-assumed a new reality — a new state of awareness for yourself — so, persist in it! you can now experience it in consciousness whenever and wherever you want.

don't forget

✿ the same way you deal with the 3D when manifesting other things into your life, you entirely dismiss your outer reality. whatever is being reflected back to you, you don't give it any attention. disregard it and reassure yourself by keeping in mind that creation is finished. leave the physical world as it is and only pay attention to your mental world, your imagination.

✿ when you are persisting, you are continuously living in your imagination. you persist in anything at all times as you experience both, 3D and 4D at the same time. you don't repeatedly live in your imagination — as in, you don't exit and enter it, over and over again — but do it perpetually. and as things have no reality other than in consciousness, your 4D has no choice but to create your 3D. the same way your 3D has no choice but to mirror your mental activity, showing you evidence of your accepted assumptions.

✿ in other words, persist and your reality will end up conforming to your liking!

with love, ella.

575 notes · View notes

natalievoncatte · 8 months

Text

Something, some instinct, told Lena that she wasn’t alone. She wanted to blame it on the whisky, but it was better to check. She grabbed the gun from its hiding place beneath a pillow, where she kept it in case of an intruder.

She wasn’t sure why she did that now; she was, in theory, safe from her greatest enemy. After all, Lena had murdered him in cold blood. She’d killed her own brother for a monstrous lie, and while there was little to mourn -the man he was died years ago by his own hand- it hurt. It hurt so much that the pain squeezed out of every pore, until she awoke in the depths of the night thinking the hot stains on her cheeks might have been from crying blood.

The one person she had truly trusted, respected, revered-

(desired)

-was a lie, an illusion. At least Lex had, at one point, been real.

Lena scouted her apartment. It didn’t occur her to check the balcony until she was about to go to bed. She was on the thirty-sixth floor. No one could get up here.

Kara was outside.

She hasn’t landed; she was hanging in the air with her cape lazily swirling against her legs as she hung in the nighttime breeze. She was far enough away that Lena couldn’t get a read on her.

“What do you want?”

She drifted closer, in that unnerving way she had.

“Hi.”

Lena sighed, and waved a dismissive hand.

“Go away, Supergirl. I’m not in the mood for another speech.”

Lena turned back inside, but stopped when she felt the soft gust of wind. Kara was a few feet away from the balcony now, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She hated how things had changed when Kara told her. She no longer saw Supergirl, just Kara in a costume. It was impossible not to see her, and yet for three long years she’d done just that. Blinded herself. Refused to see the bitter truth. All she’d ever wanted was a real friend

(lover)

who respected and admired

(and loved and cherished)

her and with whom she could share those feelings, and she’d really thought Kara was it. She was the best friend

(the one)

that Andrea and Jack could never have been. She believed that so deeply.

(she doesn’t want me the way I want her)

“I’m not here to give you a speech.”

Lena looked up sharply.

“Then what? Here to stop me? Foil my evil plans? I’m a villain now, remember.”

Kara’s face turned hard. “Don’t lie to me.”

Lena barked out a bitter laugh, feeling that need rise inside her, that anger. She had lost everything. The love of her mother, the protection of her brother. No matter how wealthy she was, she could never have those back. There was no price for what Lena wanted.

“How dare you say those words to me,” Lena hissed. “You’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met. Everything you’ve ever said to me is a lie.’

“That’s not true.”

“You told me you’d always protect me. Who’ll protect me from you?”

Kara looked away, shuddering as she breathed, or silently sobbing. Lena smiled a thin smile, glad to twist the knife.

(stop it stop it stop it stop hurting her)

“Something happened to me tonight.”

“I don’t care.”

“A fifth-dimensional being came to me and offered to let me change the past. I could change whatever I wanted.”

“I don’t see any changes,” said Lena.

Kara shook her head. “His gifts were all poison. Every time I tried to fix what happened, it turned out wrong. I tried and tried and tried until I realized what was happening.”

“Which is?”

“I was supposed to learn that I can’t just push past my mistakes. I have to own them and accept the consequences. There’s no magic wand that can fix us.”

“There is no us, Kara. We weren’t meant to be.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara drifted closer, sank down so they were face to face with the balcony railing between them.

“How can you say that?”

“It’s obvious. Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to be. We’re just too different.”

Kara shook her head.

“When I think of all the things that had to happen in order for me to be here right now, it boggles my mind,” said Kara. “Two species from two different galaxies evolved so close together. Just the chances of that happening are incredibly small, and…

“And then my people had to find this world, and Kal-El’s parents had to choose it for their son. This world, this world specifically, and then I had to get stuck in the phantom zone on my way here. All of those things and a billion others all had to happen in perfect, crystalline order just for me to walk into that office and see you.”

Lena has gone still, listening. Kara looked at her so intently, so reverently, that Lena felt something strain inside her, stretch against itself to the point of breaking. It took all her many years of carefully honed composure to keep herself still.

“Every moment I had with you was a gift. Every single one. There are times when… there are times when I think that if I could somehow have saved Krypton, I don’t know if I could, because it would mean losing you. I don’t know if that’s a choice I could make and I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s lovely,” Lena said, trying and brutally failing to keep her voice from cracking, “but it doesn’t change anything.”

Kara let out a soft, choked sound.

“I know that. I know I ruined everything and I can’t fix it. I just needed to say this because it needed to be said. I’m not here to ask you to forgive me. I’m here to ask you to forgive yourself.”

“Oh, please.”

“I can’t stop you.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“I can’t stop you. I can’t fight you. I know that now. It doesn’t matter what you do, I won’t ever hurt you again. I don’t want to confront what that means.”

“That’s rich, considering that the last time we had one of these chats, your sister pointed an orbital fusion canon at my head.”

“If she’d fired that thing,” said Kara, “there would be no more satellite, and no more DEO. I would shatter the foundations and pull down the walls. I would rain destruction on whoever hurt you. I’ve seen what happens to me when something happens to you. I never want to see it again.”

Lena leaned on the railing. “Go away.”

“What you have planned, you need to stop. I can’t stop you, and if I can’t, no one can. Please, Lena. I’m begging you, don’t do this. Don’t become someone you’ll hate just to hurt me. I’m not worth it.”

“Not everything is about you, Supergirl.”

“Please. Don’t take away everyone’s choice. I know what that’s like.”

“Oh?”

Kara nodded, and in the moonlight, her tears sparkled on her skin. “On Krypton, we were assigned to guilds as children. We had arranged marriages. Everything about our lives was planned from birth. Here, people have so much choice. Yes, they make mistakes, but people choose life and art and love. You can’t take that away over me.”

“It’s too late,” Lena said, her voice cracking, finally. “I’m doing it and if you won’t stand in my way, it’ll be done.”

Kara took a deep breath.

“Okay. I guess I should go.”

Lena rocked back.

“What? No. I’m going through with the plan.”

“I know. I won’t fight you.”

Kara turned, about to rocket off into the sky.

“You can’t just leave!” Lena screamed, her voice ragged from liquor and tears.

Kara stopped.

“You’re supposed to fight me. You’re supposed to yell at me and tell me the truth, that you knew I was a monster all along, that you were just staying close to me to watch me, to get to Lex. You’re supposed to fight me! You’re supposed to fight me!”

“No.”

Lena let out an incoherent scream and balled her hands into fists, meaning to slam them on the balcony, but they struck the implacable flesh of Kara’s chest. Powerful arms gathered around Lena, sheltering her from the nighttime chill and the voiceless judgment of distant stars.

“I won’t ever hurt you again,” Kara murmured. “I promise. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you for what I’ve done.”

“Why?” Lena whimpered. “Why won’t you just fight back?”

“Because you’re just like me. We’ve both lost so much. We both don’t want to see anyone else die.”

Lena should have shoved her away, demanded to be set free, screamed, protested, shoved. Instead her arms wound around Kara, drawn as if by gravity, and Kara’s gentle fingers began to stroke through her hair, her warm breath on the crown of Lena’s head.

“Come back to our life, Lena. To our friends. Come home.”

“I killed my big brother.”

“I know. I failed you both. I’m Supergirl. I’m supposed to find another way, a perfect solution.”

“I had to. He’d never have let you live if he knew how I f…”

Lena caught herself as the last moment.

It was Kara who sobbed now, her entire body shuddering. So much power with so much tenderness, her vast crushing strength kept at bay as she held Lena like one of the most precious of treasures.

“In one of the timelines that Mxy showed me, you… you told me how you felt as you were dying. I saw you die so many times, I can’t do it again.”

Lena tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.

“I didn’t get to tell you before you died. I was scared. I never thought you’d want me like I want you.”

Lena went stock still, feeling Kara’s shuddering breath against her as she held her own. She couldn’t look up, afraid that if she did, this would be a cruel nightmare and she’d jolt awake in an empty bed and a penthouse full of bitter memories.

“Kara,” Lena began, finally. “Kara, what are you saying? What do you mean?”

“It’s so hard to say,” Kara sighed, and then, almost to herself, “even if I don’t have much left to lose.”

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

Lena’s heart soared, and a harsh sob exploded out of her. She’d dreamed of those words, longed for them, needed to hear them. So many times, Lena had almost let herself believe it.

“I want this to be real,” said Lena. “I just don’t know if I can forgive you, Kara. It hurt so much.”

“Can we try?” said Kara. “Can we give it a chance? Can you give me a chance?”

Lena finally looked up, and when she saw those tear-stained blue eyes filled in equal measure with terror and hope, she knew.

“Yes,” she said, simply.

Lena looked behind her, and was suddenly full of revulsion and regret. She hated this place.

“Can you take me back to your loft?”

Kara lifted her easily into a bridal carry and into the sky.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #they’re soulmates but idiots about it #idiots in love #5x13 #It’s a Super Life #fix it #fix fic #self indulgence #angsty fluff

438 notes · View notes

lemonlinelights · 10 months

Text

Intervention

ao3

Summary: The turtles are worried about Casey Jr's recent behavior.

A short fic based off of somerandomdudelmao’s Cass Apocalyptic series

Casey Jr!” Mikey yelled. It was a type of shout heard on long car rides when a cow was spotted. Casey froze, his hand hovering over the door knob.

“Hi?” Casey asked. He turned around to face Mikey. Then he immediately regretted doing so. It wasn’t only Mikey that was there. Donnie and Leo had appeared quietly, flanking either side of Casey. It reminded him of that dinosaur movie they watched together to have him “better understand pop-culture”.

“Well um,” Casey turned around “I’ve gotta go-” he tried to make a break for it only to be met with the wall that is Raphael Hamato. Casey was surrounded.

“What, what is this, an intervention?” Casey joked. He was the only one who laughed.

“Precisely.” Donnie said. Casey’s eyes widened.

“We’re worried about you.” Raph said, hand on Casey’s shoulder. Reassuring, but also stopping Casey from bolting.

“Me?” Casey asked.

“Yes, you!” Leo exclaimed. “Who else would we be talking about?” He waved his arms around.

“…not me?” Raph’s brow furrowed.

“You haven’t been home at all.” Mikey said, officially opening the floodgates.

“We haven’t seen you eat.”

“You won’t talk to us.”

“Have you been sleeping at all?”

“You’re skittish.”

“And I know you’ve been stealing from my lab!” Donnie shouted.

“Also, you’ve been lying.” Leo finished. Casey rocked back and forth.

“Psh, me, lying?” Casey waved his hand as if to dismiss the idea.

“Does saying you have an uncle of all things ring any bells, Casey?” Leo asked, hands on his hips. Casey felt his heart sink.

“What Leo means to say is, we can help Casey, whatever it is that’s bothering you, us, April, Splinter, and…even Draxum.” Raphael explained, he squeezed Casey’s shoulder. Donnie rolled his eyes, but he didn’t scoff.

“Yeah!” Mikey exclaimed. “I can use my pizazz!” He said while finger gunning at Casey.

Casey couldn’t do this. What felt like an eternity to Casey looked like a blur to the others. He yanked himself out from under Raph’s hand, dodging Mikey trying to grab him.

“No!” Casey shouted. “No, you can’t help!”

“Yes we can!” Leo shouted back and God the way he tilted forward, arms opened wide, a determined look on his face. Casey choked back tears.

“You can’t bring them back!”

Everyone stilled.

“You look just like them.” Casey whispered. But that also wasn’t the full truth.

Sure Leo did what Uncle Tello called the mom stance but he didn’t do it with the same caring grin. Smile lines and crows’ feet missing from his face. Donnie rolled his eyes but it wasn’t the same playfulness. Mikey did finger guns but there wasn’t the same spark, literally and figuratively. And this Raph couldn’t hold him the same, they weren’t there yet. He wasn’t there yet with any of them, where an embracing hug was the default. They were so much alike but they were not the same turtles he knew. They were not his senseis.

All he wanted right now was a genuine Hamato hug. His Hamatos’ hugs. And Uncle Tello could do that. Uncle Tello was here. Uncle Tello was working towards a day where all of them could hug Casey again. Casey could do that. Casey could be here with them, his senseis.

“I can fix it.” Casey said. His hope poured out like a squashed oozesquito. Sad and beaten but still going.

“Huh?” Mikey said.

“Just you wait!” Casey exclaimed, running out of the lair, heels on fire.

“Casey, wait!” Leo started to go after him. One of Donnie’s mechanical limbs reached out and grabbed him.

“What would you even do?” Donnie asked. Leo didn’t know. He didn’t know. None of them know.

But Casey? Casey knew. Casey knew exactly what he was going to do. For once in his life he knew exactly what he wanted and he knew exactly how to get it.

Casey Hamato knows.

#the spacing on tumblr is so wacky #i try XD #cass apocalypse series #cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt casey junior #rottmnt fic #love cass' comic so much it is wonderful #the shoulder thing the turtles do in the comic #BUT PAINFUL >:D #heres hoping that the readmore works #drabble #my writing #angst

858 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 1 month

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 13 - С'est Lui Que Mon Cœur A Choisi

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: Teen-rated… non-graphic references to sex/sexual situations. ANGST!!!

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Beware, this has been coming; things have come to a head with the reader's family and Eloise. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

It's a dreary Friday afternoon the following week when the phone rings in the hallway.

After a brief exchange, it appears the call is for you, much to your confusion - no one knows you are here. As you tentatively pick up the receiver from the family butler, the familiar tones of Solène ring out down a crackling line.

“Mon Cherie! Have you quite lost your mind!” her opening is quite abrupt.

“And hello to you too, Solène; I have missed you,” you chuckle.

“Yes, yes…” you can almost hear her dismissive hand wave. “Why did you not yet contact your famille?”

Your stomach plunges.

“I- I forgot?” you squeak the truth.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind with Benedict; it has honestly felt detached from reality. A parallel universe. And this is you landing back on earth with a resounding bump.

“Well, please call them. I have had too many telegrams and now two phone calls,” she explains. “They are quite worried about you! I had guessed you may be chez les Bridgertons but did not want to say. I’m sure you have beaucoup news to tell them that they need to hear from you pas moi.”

“I will call them,” you promise, even as you feel a pit of dread low in your stomach.

“Please do… now, how is married life?” she teases, and after deflecting with a joke, you spend time catching up. The knot inside you loosens as you exchange pleasantries, handing the phone over to Eloise when she appears at your side, eager to reconnect with her Parisian friend.

—

“I have to call my parents,” you profess a few hours later, watching water streak in rivulets down the French doors, the lake beyond a blur, the pitter-patter sound on the roof above you.

His lips pause on your clavicle, and his hands - warm through your cool silk slip - flex around your waist, but he says nothing.

“Just to let them know I am safe. Solène called earlier; they have been trying to get hold of me,” you explain, burrowing your fingers into his hair, delicately scratching your nails over his scalp.

“What will you tell them?” his question hushed and tentative.

“That part I haven’t decided,” you confess with a sigh. “There is so much to say; I don’t know where to begin…”

“I will be there with you,” he replies emphatically, pushing up to gaze down upon you. “Whatever you decide, I will be there, in support, silent or otherwise.”

His generous sincerity makes your chest bloom, devotion evident in his words.

“Thank you,” you whisper, staring into his hazy eyes, again your confession of love on the tip of your tongue.

He cups your jaw, and you feel the cool metal of his wedding ring, which he has never once taken off in the four weeks since your marriage. “No need to thank me. You are my wife; it is what I must do.” His use of that word makes your heart leap.

“I hope it isn't only out of duty…” you can't help your insecurity from crossing your lips.

“Of course not,” he assures, eyes soft.

“Thank you, husband,” you whisper back, and something flares on his face, a change rippling over his handsome features. His fingers sink between yours, caging your hands onto the towel underneath you.

“Call me that again,” his voice taking on an odd, gravelly quality.

“H-husband?” you falter, a knit of confusion over your brow.

He growls and surges his hips roughly between your legs, igniting that fire you always feel inside for him.

Oh.

“Husband,” you repeat bolder this time, treating it like a jewel dripping on your tongue.

His lips are hot and insistent on yours, his tongue almost punishing, ravaging your mouth. Before you know it, your clothing is ripped from your body, and you are crying his name, fingers digging into flesh. His hold is possessive, almost feral in the way he takes you, swearing that you hear him grunt the word mine into your neck as you both reach completion.

—

You wait until Eloise visits a local friend the next day to make the dreaded call. It’s a Saturday lunchtime, early morning on the American East Coast, when you pluck up the courage, knowing your parents should be home then.

The handset feels heavy in your palm as you raise it and dial the operator, giving your parents' number. Benedict hovers beside you, a reassuring presence you want to lean into as each ring echoes heavily in your ear.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of your mother’s voice causes a flood of emotion through you; you slump onto the hallway bench, Benedict bobbing down to crouch before you, his expression concerned but silent, touching your knee delicately.

“Hello Mom…” it's probably barely audible.

“My love!!!!!” she exclaims, and you can hear the wash of relief in her voice, the knowledge that her child is safe after weeks of uncertainty. It makes guilt burn even harder behind your ribs. “I'm so happy to hear from you! To hear your voice! Are you safe? Please tell me you are safe!” Parental concern colouring her every word.

“Yes, Mom, I'm safe,” you begin, a tremulant quality to your voice that you are unsuccessfully trying to wish away. “It's… it's a long story, but I ended up in England with Eloise. I'm sure Uncle Robert told you all about her.”

“Indeed he did. Well, I'm so happy you escaped France! I hear an invasion could well be imminent. I was so worried! Let me call your father...” Before you can protest, she is holding the receiver away from her mouth and calling out your Dad’s name. “Oh, and Stanley will be so pleased to hear the good news!!! We must tell him right away! He has been concerned too…”

The mention of your ex-fiance's name raises bile in your throat, and you instinctively reach for Benedict. Lace your hand with his upon your knee—an anchor you need. You don't know what to say about your ex, so you don't respond, hoping your mother will move on quickly in her relief, which, thankfully, she does.

You hear your dad’s familiar voice in the background and bite your lip, nervous that both will be listening.

“So when are you coming home, darling?” She continues after giving your dad an economic explanation.

“I… I don't know that I can,” you stumble, knowing your lip is darkening under the worry of your incisor tooth.

“Whyever not? Just move up your ticket!” Your dad chimes in.

“I tried that while still in France; unfortunately, the company scammed me. I could not get a ticket to any sailings to America, so, for safety, I came to England with Eloise.”

“You got scammed!” your dad’s huff is indignant.

“Let's focus on what is important, Ron. She is safe,” your mother lectures, placating his ire as you mumble an apology.

Your downcast eyes lift to meet Benedict’s as they seem to remonstrate between themselves on the other end of the line. His mien is benevolent, his finger swiping rhythmically across the back of your knuckles in a comforting gesture. You know he can hear the voices leaking out of the receiver jammed to your ear, if not the words, then the general tone.

“Well, I'm glad you were able to enter England with a visitor visa. I thought they had been suspended since the war was declared. Your Uncle thought he was among the last to be let in with one…” your dad comments, immediately honing in on what you have been dreading the most.

“I am not here on a tourist visa. Thanks to a wonderful member of Eloise’s family, I have been able to secure residency.” Your fingers grip Benedict hard now.

“What do you mean?” your Dad queries, sounding suspicious.

“In order to escape - which I know, Dad, is the most important thing - I had to make a rather drastic choice…” you try to emphasise the jeopardy before your confession.

“What kind of drastic choice?” he echoes your words slowly, and you can feel their suspicion down the crackling line.

“I had to get married…” your voice is so tiny you almost hope they do not hear. Benedict's other hand lands on top of yours, enveloping yours in his warmth, which makes you look at him so grateful, a glassiness to your eyes.

There is a moment of shocked silence and then an explosion of indignant words and noises, to the point that you have to pull the handset away from your ear.

It's alright, it will be alright, Benedict mouths silently, and you can't help but pitch forward and rest your forehead on his. One of his hands touches your cheek gently as you close your eyes, a tear swelling on your lashes.

“I did not plan for this, Mom, Dad,” you cut in, sitting back upright. “But it has happened, and now… I… I need time.”

“Need time for what? You get that marriage annulled right away, young lady, and get yourself back here to marry the man you are promised to!” your mother’s voice shrill and didactic. “You had better hope Stanley understands and forgives this transgression….”

Something about her choice of words lights a fire of outrage inside you. As if your life choices are not your own.

“Transgression?!” you spit back. “I was caught up in a country where war was imminent. I did what I had to to escape to safety. What would you want me to do!? Remain in a possible war zone?”

“How about not flit off to Europe on some ridiculous jaunt in the first place!” she yells back. And in that very moment, you realise how little they ever supported your trip, a plunging sense of familial support being ripped from under you. “We only agreed to this reluctantly as you were so insistent. And now look what you have done?! Possibly ruined your future by marrying god knows who instead of the man you have been due to marry since you were a child, y/n….”

“I married a wonderful man,” you defend instinctively. “He is twenty times the man Stanley could ever be!!” You practically roar, “and I do not regret a single thing. I wish to remain here. With him.” You huff, drawing ragged breaths as finally you look at Benedict again and see the desire writ large on his face. It makes you want to kiss him so much your lips tingle.

Down the phone, your parents are stunned into silence. You knew this news would upset them and how awkward this could be, your family being so intertwined with Stanley’s family, being the son of your father’s business partner. But also, you know you cannot lie and return to life there, even if things with Benedict do not work out.

“I only knew one way my life could go,” you press on, a frenzy of bubbling emotions bursting from within like hot lava. “Well, I have seen something of the world beyond Long Island, and it has things to offer me that Stanely and Long Island could never. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I am not that girl, and even if I were to annul this marriage, I would not wish to marry Stanley. Ever.”

By the end of your somewhat dramatic speech, you are heaving breaths and clinging to Benedict like a liferaft in a tsunami, your whole life as you knew it crumbling around you. But that fire in your belly that you are finally recognising and standing up for what you want, pursuing what you want, not what is expected of you, gives you the strength of your convictions, painful as this moment may be. That and the man kneeling before you—he is a choice you know you would make over and over again.

“Well, if that is your decision, then I am not sure what else there is to say,” your father intones icily. “Perhaps call us back when you have come to your senses….”

And with that, the line goes dead, and you collapse into Benedict’s arms, weeping bitterly.

—

Something changes after that phone call. Benedict doesn't leave your side, always seeking you out. Perhaps to check on you, somewhat deflated after the emotions had been wrung out of you, but apparently also to spend time together without intimacy. Just to be in your company. You only realise it when you are curled up reading on the sofa, and wordlessly, he takes a seat next to you, pulling your feet into his lap, opening his book with a soft smile. His hands swirl idle patterns over your ankle bone through your stockings as you both sit in quiet relaxation.

At one point, you brush his shoulder gently, almost unable to stop your need to touch him. Then he curls into you, resting on your chest. He chuckles as you rest your book on the back of his head and keep reading. There is no denying it has all the hallmarks of a couple in love, and yet you don’t comment; just accept it with a lightness inside that feels bubbling.

However, his warmth and weight soon make you drowsy; you are not sure when, but you fall asleep. You suspect he does, too, based on the rude awakening you receive shortly after.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?”

You startle awake, your book sliding off with a thump to the floor as Benedict seems to do the same, his head rising in shock.

Eloise is standing before you. Mouth hanging open, an utterly stricken and horrified look on her face.

You want to curl up and die. There is no way to deny what has transpired. Your arms are wrapped around his, his head on your breasts. There is no way this pose is anything but intimate - not one either of you might have accidentally slumped into.

“I can explain…” you being, your voice a rough croak from sleep.

But Eloise does not stay around to hear it. She storms out of the room, the door slamming so loud behind her that a row of framed photos rattles against the picture rail. You curse ruefully, kicking yourself for being so cavalier today after weeks of being so careful. The call earlier really throwing you for a loop. Benedict twists to sit up, head slumping into his hands, wiping his palms down his face with a harried expression.

“I suppose it was bound to happen eventually,” he monotones after a pause, but his knee bounces with nervous energy. “She’s going to tell Mother…” he adds, sounding defeated, almost scared.

And you know you can wait no longer to divulge it.

“Your mother already knows,” you admit quietly, pulling yourself upright to sit beside him.

He swivels with almost comedic speed, his face a picture.

“She approached me a few weeks ago,” you shrug. “I could hardly lie; I’m a terrible liar,” you remind him delicately.

“Mum knows….” his tone disbelieving, mouth agape.

“She said you, her children, are all terrible at hiding things from her,” you elucidate. “And….” You tremble as the words form on your tongue but feel powerless to stop them from spilling out, “… she said she knows when you are in love.”

Again, his head whips to you, and he looks panicked. “She said that?!?”

“Yes…” you look down at your hands wringing nervously in your lap, the ring on your left hand feeling like a weight.

“I… I…” he stumbles, seeming at odds.

And before you know it, he is on his feet, too and has swept out of the room in an apparent hurry.

As the door clicks shut behind him, a dread fills every nook and cranny of your being, suddenly terrified that everything you have come to treasure in the last few weeks has just been ripped violently from under you.

Join my taglist here

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @hanji-emo-blog @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1 @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

168 notes · View notes

rysko · 3 months

Note

my request would be literally anything with luca changretta x shelby sister that pairing in this fandom is so my guilty pleasure love your writing so so much, whether you make it into a drabble, hcs or a mini fic i would be happy — gotta love that forbidden enemy lovin 😋

Too old for this - Luca Changretta x F!reader

summary: Keeping secrets, lying to your family, sneaking out...All to see a man, god, what are you? Seventeen again?

OR three times you snuck out to see Luca, and one time he snuck out to see you.

Warnings: Peaky-typical swearing, very minor violence, this is just romantic-comedy-themed fluff,

A/N: Special thanks (and a big fuck you) to @red-riding-wood, next time we race in writing we're making rules.

Aaaaaaanyways, So Sorry this took so long anon! This writing slump was horrible. I really hope you'll enjoy this silly thing!

tag list (yay i have one finally!): @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings

This was stupid. This was so dumb.

Coat hung loosely around your shoulders, shoes in your hands as if to not make more noise than necessary, you snuck through the Small Heath Shelby house corridors. Almost cartoonishly so, when your frame passed one of the occupied rooms. If you had to guess, the last time you did that was years ago, when you were just a teenage girl with overprotective brothers, now you're an adult, rough-around-the-edges woman...with the same overprotective brothers.

Though, this time it's not a nice stableboy you're sneaking out to see. Now it seems like your brothers would have every right to threaten the man you're seeing with a blinding.

You slowly go down the old, wooden stairs, wincing at every crack and whine that echoes. The whole house is dark, the room illuminated only by the street lamps outside.

Almost...

Before you reach for the doorknob, you clumsily take the keys into your teeth to put your shoes on, which puts you in quite an embarrassing position when a table light behind you suddenly turns on.

"Aren't you a bit too old to be sneaking about Y/N?" Polly asked with a smugly raised eyebrow, nursing a glass of whiskey, legs crossed on the velvet red armchair. You spit out the keys.

"I'm not sneaking." You try to compose yourself as best as you can. "I'm going for a walk."

"Very conspicuous behaviour for a walk, love." The glass muffles her chuckle. Was she just...waiting here?

"I just don't want Tommy to get in my hair whenever I even look in the doors' direction." You whine. "I'll go crazy in this house soon." This seemed to soften Polly up just a bit, or maybe activate the part of her brain which insists on the 'fuck them' mentality when it comes to obeying Tommy's orders.

"Just don't get into trouble. God knows i need to tell you that." She dismissed you with a flick of the wrist, and you just nodded before rushing out the door, as if Polly could change her mind any second.

Street after street, the tension slowly eased off your shoulders as you were exiting the tight Shelby territory. It was a close call once in a while, someone almost recognizing you before you could cover your face more. A group of men whistling after you before you could disappear in a dark back alley. Slowly, you closed in on the place you agreed to meet a man by the name you even feared to say in your head, as maybe Tommy would sit there by sheer coincidence, resulting in you getting cut, or him, or both of you, how Shakespearean...

How has it gotten to the point where you are happily fucking the enemy? Devil knows, honestly.

In the back of your mind, you always had a nagging feeling Luca only started seeing you to spite Tommy. This wouldn't be a problem, of course, you regularly told yourself. You're spiting Tommy yourself!

No, that honestly didn't help. The truth is, whatever Changretta's intentions were, or, still are, you found him irresistibly captivating. Like a substance you just can't resist, one that soothes and pleasures, but at the same time comes with a fifty-page warning label. You can see this blowing up in your face from a mile away, in a million different ways. Yet, every visit, every phone call, hell, every sneakily delivered note shuts off any sense you have left in yourself.

And now you feel like losing it again, when just in front of the speakeasy Luca asked to meet you, a very familliar set of hands gently rest on your waist from behind.

"Took you long enough doll." A kiss on the cheek accompanies the low foreign drawl of Luca's voice, sending shivers down your neck and spine. Shit, if all of you will die soon, you might as well have some fun until then. It's not like Tommy's staying celibate in mourning.

"You're saying that to a doll that has to endure my brothers mythering about town. Sneaking out in the middle of the night isn't as easy for me as it is for you." With your arms crossed, you motion to one of the alleys you emerged from just moments ago. "There's all sorts of shady blokes out and about."

"M'sorry, i got impatient, that's all." You could feel his thumb gently rubbing against your waist "Anyone gave you trouble? You got the gun I got you?" Luca pulled back, looking you over, the slightest hint of concern visible in his dark eyes.

"Yes. To the second thing. I'll be fine." You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. "Are we going in?"

"Right this way cara." Luca's lips curled into a small smile. He linked your arms together and in a nearly over-the-top way led you down the stairs of the high-class Speakeasy.

You might as well have some fun, that's all this is after all.

The loud whistle of the conductor woke you up from an on-and-off slumber, the train from Birmingham to London wasn't exactly the comfiest place to rest your head in. From outside the window, the ever-so-lively London train platform came into view.

To be honest, it surprised you when Luca invited you to spend the weekend in London, even more so when you managed to form quite an elaborate story to justify the trip to your family, or more accurately, Polly. Tommy seemed preoccupied with fighting the Italians, chasing the May lady around town, and making quite mediocre gin to even care what you were up to. Needless to say, officially you finally found a friend that you just have to visit. Polly seemed to pay it little mind, but the sly look in her eye, as she saw you off at the door, made you just a tad paranoid that she might have caught on.

Like always, this will bite you in the arse sooner or...sooner.

Up until now, every 'visit' you paid Luca hadn't lasted for more than half a day, only once reaching a full 24 hours when, to your horror, you managed to oversleep. That was a morning of sloppily put-on clothes and numerous muttered 'shits' and 'craps', of course, accompanied by a very amused Luca doing everything in his power to distract you.

What you were doing right now seemed like a step up from the usual routine. Two days aren't going to fly by with just sex, though, that wouldn't be so bad. But lately, you realized you just wanted to...ugh, spend time with him. However sappy this sounded. But that's not what this is. What even is 'this'? When you and Luca met, what happened was purely driven by want, maybe with more than a touch of curiosity of the 'forbidden fruit' in the form of the enemy. Sweet, with sour at the back of your tongue.

Lately, you realized, you only feel the sweet when you kiss Luca. And though you'd never admit it, you dread him not feeling the same.

You two have your moments. Pillow talks with topics never discussed with anyone before, coffee filled with banter worthy of an old married couple, and non-sexual touches that linger for just a bit longer than they should. It's addicting and confusing at the same time.

And that addiction and confusion just led you all the way to London.

Stretching out of your seat, you reach for your bag in the luggage compartment, only for a stranger to take it instead.

"There you go, Miss." The man, looking maybe a decade your senior smiled handing you the bag.

"Thank you, sir." You muster a polite smile, praying internally that the stranger isn't from the same place you are. "I could've done it myself though."

"It's really nothing, common kindness it is..." The longer he spoke, the more his voice trailed off. His eyes widened, studying your frame and most importantly, your face with a new approach. "You're-"

shit

"Thankyougoodbye." You rush and almost run out of the carriage, running into multiple people and throwing rushed half-assed apologies their way. You're stopped by a strong, painful grip on your arm, the man from before pushing you further down the platform, more secluded from people.

"I knew you were familiar." He grabbed the collar of your shirt and pushed you into a pillar roughly, knocking a bit of air out of your lungs. "One of those Shelby devils!" The man's gaze was furious, almost seeing red.

"Let me go." You ordered, trying your best not to attract attention to the both of you. "And we can both forget about this." You're trying your best to speak sternly and diplomatically, yet more than a hint of fear is hearable in your voice. He seems to notice.

"You ruined me!" The Brummie spat. "I'll cut your pretty face just like they cut me brothers." A rough, callous hand cupped your jaw to hold it in place, the other reaching into his jacket. You feel a mixture of panic and adrenaline make its way to your veins.

"Get the fuck off me!" All your strength goes towards your legs. You kicked him back a foot or two, which only seemed to infuriate him more. Before he could take even a step towards you, he's violently grabbed by... Wait, Luca?

"How 'bout you let the lady go, hm?" His grip on the brummies' collar turned red, almost lifting the man off the ground. That wasn't reflected at all in the way Luca was speaking however, for the first time he seemed...calm, condescending even. That only changed when the man didn't seem to take no for an answer. "That wasn't a fucking request." Luca's voice became a gravelly threat, which resulted in the attacker promptly looking between you and Luca as if weighing the risk and reward. Finally, he nodded his head frantically.

Luca didn't need to be told twice. He almost threw the man aside, letting him limp off into the distance. The Italian was almost immediately by your side, gently cupping your face, checking for any sign of hurt or damage. You feel his thumb caress a small spot next to your brow, despite you being almost sure you hadn't been hit anywhere near there. You take a look behind Luca to see the man at a larger distance.

"Wouldn't think you'd just let him go like that." You raise an eyebrow at Luca, not in a teasing way, it just feels oddly out of character for him to just let him go.

"Because I ain't gonna." He turns to a seemingly unaware civilian reading a newspaper, mumbling something that sounds like Italian, his head only slightly motioning towards the direction in which the Brummie fled. Ah, one of his men, cousin maybe. Just as he left, Luca stopped him for just a second more. "Alive." He let him go.

"Look at you, my knight in shining armour." You smile up at him while catching your breath and trying to calm down.

"Yeah yeah." He doesn't play into your teasing this time. "You alright?" He rubs your upper arm as if dusting off any remaining trace of the event before.

"Just a bit roughed up, had it worse after playfighting with Ada back in the day." You shrug. "I was prepared for you to bash his head in right here."

"That can wait a few days." His gaze followed a pair of men dragging the attacker off the station, his voice almost a promise.

"A few days? What happened to the vengeful, impatient Luca I know?"

"This Luca-" He holds out his arm for you to take. "-Is going to starve him a bit before giving him the mercy of a pipe through his skull."

"How romantic." You sigh in an exaggerated, lovesick voice. "Talk more like that and maybe I'll lift the 'no shop talk' policy." You wink at Luca as you link your arms together, his shoulder becoming the perfect pillow for your head. This time, Luca welcomes it happily.

"How gracious of you." His low chuckle meets yours as you head off to the London center. A fun weekend out is due, after all.

Now, this was definitely an unusual location.

At first, it seemed to you that Luca must have just confused locations when calling. Yet here you were, on the outskirts of a local forest, your only companions in the form of singing starlings and rustling trees.

All this seemed like a rope that was being pulled from only one side. You were the one to stress about being found out, evading family, hell, call sometimes. You felt like a brat, honestly. Technically, there was nothing Luca did that should have upset you, he couldn't have if there were no rules. Was that the thing though? Did you want there to be rules?

With every visit, you want to stay longer, talk more, and Luca seemed to entertain all of it. It confused you. What plan did he have with all this? Did Luca want you to catch feelings and lure you into a vulnerable state, resulting in killing you? Maybe he counted on you as a potential ally against Tommy, trying to manipulate you. Maybe he's just incredibly dense?

He can't want an actual relationship. Luca came here to kill your whole family, including you. The fact that he also likes to play with his prey is another thing, hell, he probably has a wife or girl back in New York. There has to be a wedding band under one of these tacky rings and signets.

"What the hell is he planning?" You kick a pebble down the dirt road in frustration. "A damn Picnic?" You finish off with a groan as you squat down.

Your answer came in the form of the sound of a Rolls Royce engine heading closer and closer toward you, the black car kicking up a hefty amount of dust and rocks. As it slows down next to you and ultimately comes to a halt, you see the familiar face of Luca's right-hand man.

"Get in." Matteo nodded in the direction of the backseat, though you didn't take it into consideration, and immediately headed for the shotgun seat.

"What is all this?" You look around the car as it backs up and starts speeding off in the same direction it came from.

"Luca asked me to get you to him safely," Matteo explained, not taking his eyes off the road. "He didn't want any uhh, repeat from last time."

"How sweet." You answer sarcastically. Ah, of course, he couldn't bother.

"He was definitely sweet when he put the bozo out of his misery." He laughed, looking to the side, as if seeking approval for his joke, but didn't get any. Matteo's laughter dies into an awkward cough.

"How long's the ride?" You try to position yourself as comfortably as possible in the stiff leather seats of the car.

"About an hour." He answers, and you visibly deflate in your seat, deciding to spend the time looking at the sights outside, fields, and occasional houses passing by.

A long, awkward silence passes between the two of you. It seemed to bother the man to your right, who tapped his index finger against the steering wheel while stealing the occasional glance. He looked like he was debating saying something.

"So..." He begins, almost like a father starting a conversation with a child he doesn't quite get. "Did you finish Ulysses yet?"

"Did..." You do a double take, studying Matteo for a long second. "...Did Luca give you conversation starters?"

"What if I made them up?" He blurts out.

"We've spoken twice, Matteo." You raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed. "I never told you what I read."

"Maybe I just guessed what girls like nowadays." He smirked at you, feeling triumphant.

"I'm sorry, but you're the least qualified person to talk about girls." You say with a chuckle.

"Touche." He smiled, then looked back at the road, letting the silence sit only for a few seconds. "But you're right, we've only spoken twice."

"So?" You raised a brow.

"Sooo." Matteo draws out. "We have about an hour to catch up."

You're genuinely confused as to why Matteo was being so personal all of a sudden. Usually, as in, in the last few weeks or so, you've had two separate, short conversations with the man. Once, when you accidentally came into his room instead of Luca's during one of your 'visits'. The other time, when both of you had quite a boring and awkward conversation about English meals in a lift. "On what grounds should we 'catch up'?"

"On the grounds that you're fucking my cousin Miss Shelby." The way Matteo said that was surprisingly casual. "And family is important to me."

"It's not like I'm married to him." You reply faster than you'd want to.

"He damn well acts like you are." He chuckles, and you feel yourself stiffen, looking at the Italian like he just told you the earth is flat. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What do you mean by 'acts like I am'?" The question leaves your lips in an uncertain tone, almost shy.

"Never seen him so distracted by someone he's known for such a short time." He says with a shrug "Foolish if you ask me, but who am I to judge, at least he's happy."

He's happy??

"Uh, yeah." He throws you a pitiful smile, as if he could see how perplexed this information made you. "At least from what I can see."

Oh, of course, you said that out loud.

You quieted down, gaze resting on your lap. Now this was new information you had no idea how to process. You bit your lower lip in thought, unsure if the emotions you're feeling right now are uncertainty or... giddy, immature happiness.

You sit like that for a good few minutes before a small, sly smile graces your lips.

"Cousin, huh?" You ask, looking out the window, your good humour slowly creeping back in.

"I'm not telling you his secrets," Matteo says almost immediately as if he somehow knew that you were going to ask that.

"And I'm not asking you." You clarify. "But you probably have some nice stories."

"About what?"

"You knooooow..." You draw out, cocking your head to the side. "What was he like, back in the day?"

"Same as now, I guess. Only longer ago." It seemed like that was the end of your prying on Luca, but after a longer moment, Matteo mused more to himself than anyone else in the car. "More chipper in New York though..."

"Chipper? I'd like to see that."

"Oh yeah, and stupid."

"Now we're talking, tell me more." You lean forward in your seat, elbows resting on your thighs.

"No, I already told too much," Matteo says like he's telling his friends he's had enough drinks for the night. "He's going to skin me alive if he finds out I told you about this."

"Oh come oooooon. I won't tell." You shuffle your feet excitedly. Matteo looked forward, focusing on the road ahead, but after a moment of looking between the steering wheel and you, he let out a defeated sigh.

"...Back in New York, when we were just goons for Spinietta, Luca came up with a new con to scam people with, a really fucking stupid one..."

"And then, THEN it turned out the other guy was from London, and when he heard Luca speaking in a shitty Birmingham accent he-" He paused, but only to wheeze in laughter. "He beat the fucking shit out of him." Matteo finishes the story, on the verge of tears.

"No!" You gasped, though not hiding your laughter as well, leaning forward in your seat.

"Yes!" Matteo wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye, still trying to calm down his laughter. "Never seen Luca on his ass faster in my life, ti giuro. "

"Oh god. And I'm supposed to NOT tease him about it?" You say in amused disbelief. "When he's all 'Look at me, I'm mister smug and aloof, I've never gotten beaten up like a bitch before'." You put on your best impression of the Italian, even going to the lengths of putting a match between your lips and exaggerating your words with excessive hand gestures.

"Hey, we're all hiding behind something principessa." Despite Matteo defending his cousin, he still couldn't help but laugh along with you. After a moment, both of you calmed down, this time falling into a pleasant, comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

"What about you?" You turned to Matteo again.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you want to catch up." You lean against the leather seat, bringing your knees to your chin. "We've got an hour, you ever played two truths and a lie?"

It was a nice ride.

Everyone and their mother thinks the Small Heath home is haunted. Random objects flying off the wall at night, specific items appearing in places they weren't before, the occasional crooked painting.

Footsteps are definitely new.

The boys and Polly are dealing with business outside of town for once, while Ada just went out and should be here any minute. But that definitely isn't Ada.

Slow, almost wary footsteps cause the floorboards to creak on the ground floor. You're sitting next to the stairs, knees tucked to your chest and spare pistol in your hand.

Another step.

You press your ear to the floor, trying your hardest to pinpoint how many people were inside just by footsteps... Just one?

They appear to be coming closer, and you internally brace for confrontation with whoever broke into your home. As the intruder passes the corner you were hiding in, you stick out the gun and press it to the side of their head, making them immediately freeze in place.

Wait-

"Luca????" You blurt out in shock, your voice becoming at least a few octaves higher.

"Hey, you actually kept it," Luca says, sizing up the gun he gave you that's now pressed to his head. "Though I'd rather not die by it sweetheart, no offense."

"FUCKING hell Luca! You scared me half to death!” Your arms drop next to your hips. putting the gun on a table nearby.

“Relax, who would it be if not me?” Luca moves towards you, probably to say his hellos in the form of peppered kisses.

"Who would it be? What do you MEAN who would it be?!" You rub your eyes, not sure if out of frustration or as a way of trying to wake yourself up. “Police? IRA? My own bloody brothers?!” Somehow, this is exactly what you wanted. Luca being the one that sneaks through Small Heath and avoids the blinders, instead of it being always you. Though now, instead of it being a late-night fantasy of the charming man sneaking into your bed despite the dangers of doing so, it's a real-life nightmare of this idiot trying to get himself killed.

“Yeah well, it’s not them.” He shrugs, glancing around the house. “I’d like to see anyone try to stab you in the back in this house. I figure before I’ll get to them you’ll just kill them yourself.”

“Yes, I am quite amazing.” You muse to yourself before snapping back into reality. “Don’t think you can butter me up and I’ll drop it, what are you doing here?!"

“I’m seeing my doll.”

“Need I remind you you’re inside my idiot brothers’ territory?”

"Relax, we'll manage."

You two did not manage.

Who knew Luca Changretta had a talent for knocking down hanged pictures and stepping on the creakiest parts of the wooden floor.

“Shush for once in your life.” You hissed at Luca as you led him through the tight corridor, internally begging whatever made-up deity may be watching over you to please not let Arthur or Polly magically appear out of the corner.

“Please, it’s not like-” You can practically hear Luca roll his eyes, and despite you usually letting him release whatever condescending thoughts he had on the daily, you think you just heard a door open in the distance. You practically drag him the remaining meter to your room's door and push him inside, shutting it way too loudly.

As it turns out, the deity listened to you, but only to half of your half-assed prayer.

“Ada! Heyy!” You try to stay nonchalant as you lean against the door.

“...Hey?” Ada's pace slows down next to you, “What’s got you so pent up?”

“Pent up? Pshh.” You're really not good at this. “Well, I guess I’m just tired, I better get to bed.” Your thumb points back towards the door of your bedroom.

Ada stays put, looking at you puzzled and suspicious.

“Are you going?" She asks.

“Yes.” You blurt out. ”What about you?”

“Y/N, cut the crap. I heard something.” She looks at you for answers, but only when she looks at the door again it's almost as if a light turns on in her head. “Are you…Sneaking someone in?” She reached for the doorknob only to be stopped by you slapping it away.

“Ada no!” You shield the door with your whole body.

“Ow! Hey, come on, I’m not judging. God knows you deserve some fun once in a while.” She rubs her hand. “So who is he?” Your sister looks between you and the door excitedly, her voice now hushed, like all these years ago when the two of you spent hours under the covers giggling about the stupidest of things.

“Uhh, just-” You stammered, struggling to find the right words. or any words for that matter. “You don’t know him.”

“I trust he’s not afraid of Tommy since he followed you here.” She threw a wink your way. “Reminds me of Freddie and I back in the day.” A fond smile graces her face as she looks to the side.

“Oh he’s not, that’s for sure.” You laugh nervously, internally waiting for the sweet release of death. Ada seemed to notice.

“All right, I’ll get out of your hair.” She laughs at her sister, squeezing your cheek as she walks past you. “Don’t get her knocked up Romeo, then maybe I won't have to tell Tommy!” She calls, walking off down the corridor. Only after Ada completely vanished from your periphery you opened the bedroom door just a few inches and slid in. The door locked, checked three times, and you finally released a big sigh, hands sliding off the door to rest next to your hips.

You turn around to see a very out-of-place Luca. Almost everything about him clashed with your small childhood room, the humble interior looking somehow even cheaper next to him. After the company took off, the family never bothered to fancy up the place, instead, everyone went their separate ways into apartments and stylish homes. Yet somehow for you, no king-sized plush bed will ever replace the old, creaking twin you have right here in Small Heath, always ready for you with open arms.

Luca took his sweet time taking in the place. Picking up and then putting down every insignificant object, from small toys you never bothered to throw out or sell, to numerous books lying around the room. He spends the most time looking at an old, framed picture sitting atop your windowsill. Luca's thumb brushes off a heavy layer of dust from 10-year-old Y/N in her year 5 uniform, while the actual Y/N takes her place beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Adorable." Luca nudges you, a sly smile on his lips as he puts his other arm around your shoulders.

"Oh hush, I'm sure I can find a picture of little Luca if I sneak into your home." You stab a finger into his arm playfully, smiling fondly at the picture.

"Wishful thinking, doll. Wishful thinking..." Luca sets down the frame and focuses his attention on you. A kiss on your temple leads to his lips softly trailing down to your nose and meeting your lips. Now the stress of the whole damn ordeal seemed to start slipping away, and the sweet taste is there once again.

The sound of a door crashing on the far end of the hallway takes both of you out of your trance.

“So, that…was Ada.” You turn your head to try and hear any sounds of your sister leaving her room, but Luca doesn't seem to pay it any mind.

“She seems nice.” He hummed against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone, biting down gently.

“What are you doing Romeo?” You turn your head slightly to squint your eyes at him, a distrusting smile gracing your lips.

“Breaking my promise to your sister.” His sly drawl is muffled against your skin as both of you step by step head towards the bed.

“Did you want to come here only to sleep with me under Tommy’s nose?” You sit down on the bed, your brows furrowing.

“I always come firstly to you and because of you,” Luca emphasizes every word as he slowly gets on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. “But yeah, being here does come with its satisfaction. If only they’d see you now, cara.” His hands push up your dress, finding their way to your thighs, fingers getting busy with the garters holding up your stockings.

“Yeah, maybe cut it with the Italian. My sister could be listening in.” Luca only seems to respond in a musing hum. “You never know.”

“Should I put on my best Birmingham accent?” He looks up at you, his signature smartass grin more endearing than annoying.

“Not now. You’ll ruin the mood.” You murmur just mere inches from his lips, laying back into the old, creaky bed, Luca following put. “But definitely save it for later, I need to hear that."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x y/n #adventures of yinnin #luca changretta #matteo being the bro we need but dont deserve #shameless Ulysses plug #what a great book

286 notes · View notes