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familyvideostevie · 18 days

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time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve.

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened.

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease.

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself.

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask.

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says.

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make.

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do.

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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grugruel · 2 months

Text

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

The campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout as smouldering flakes of ash rose in swirls above her.

Her face lit up, the sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The soaring fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing space from any other thoughts.

The trees around her rustled. She leaned back against the wall of the overhanging cliff. Sliding down into a sitting position and slanting her head in ponder, slipping deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire, was not her fault.

And not only was the law after her, but they'd sent out money hungry, bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved quite the nuisances, but wouldn't be a problem anymore. . .

. . .Unless they died of starvation, and then she would indeed be guilty of murder. Lovely! She gritted her teeth at the memory, rolling her eyes interanally.

But she doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond. She was back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between its stems, but her vision was good and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her–

'Ma'am.'

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

'Mister' she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he gave her was unmistakable. 'Theres quite the bounty on you girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth from the fire.

'There's no doubtin' that,' she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, 'Although im only worth half of it, I assure you.'

She sat still, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. '. . . 'S that so?. . .' He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. 'Mister, I'm not a murderer. Crimes I did not commit have been written in my name. The sheriff framed me!' She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

'I belive ya' ma'am.' His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. 'But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes.' His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. 'But a bounty 's still a bounty girl.'

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly week. And unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her when she fell. In a sense too literal for her liking.

'And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . .' His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt– and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward and her feet was swept from under her– then just as sudden, it sped up again.

As a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushing up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up as he did. Its sound of hot friction against fabric made her stumache churn. She rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation. And there he stood. Just by her feet, looming over her. With his back to the fire it cast a glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her, securing his bounty tightly. He grabbed the knot and pulled her up diagonally, pulling her flush against his body so he could level her head with his. '. . .And I've done bad things.' He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps, having it spread over her skin like wildfire.

He straightened his legs and stood back, taking her with him while keeping her close to his chest.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope until they were at her waist, and in one strong motion threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped, 'You brute!' kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. 'You keep your hands to yourself Mister!' She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

'Yes, ma'am.' He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind.

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadnt planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. 'Well, good.' She said curtly, calming herself. Being a nuisance and making the situation worse would be a bad idea, and she'd not made any progress nonetheless, his grip was solid steel. She'd have to settle on feeling his strong back beneath her instead and revel in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse, 'Sittin' or layin'?' He asked, being nice enough to hand her to options of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, 'What a gentleman, take a guess Mister.' She muttered.

He nodded, 'Sittin' with me it is.' his hands moved to her waist, easily transfering her from his shoulder to the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look would certainly have killed him. 'Quite presumtions of you.'

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, on hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against it, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, 'Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures.'

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, it took everything in her power to stop from rocking her hips forward. But she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, 'Id like to see you try.' And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her and leaned over her shoulder. 'I will if you let me ma'am.' He whispered in her ear, and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated. The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

But finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the morning of her capture to the next night. If that werent enough, a heatwave had been raging the entirety of the day aswell, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh. . . the way he toiled away.

He had removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

God, focus. She needed to hatch a plan. Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either, and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been succesful so far, he didnt even want the money she'd stashed away.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under. . . The waist of his pants. In that moment, she wanted nothing else then to see where that trail ended. She wanted to trace her fingers along it, or perhaps lick it, all the way down. . .

Her jaw began aching, she fought herself to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze at the ground instead, waiting for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared to look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette placed between hid lips and was breathing in a long drag of it. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

'Want one girl?' He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

'I do, yes.' She answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched on one knee infront of her, his arm bracing against the other. 'You'll have to do better than that.' He said, only a feets distance between them. Then picked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain, 'Go on.' He nodded. But reluctant to follow his orders, she met his eyes, making sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in despite herself. Closing her lips around the cigarette, she sucked the toxic smoke smoke into her lungs like it were air, keeping her eyes locked on his. She swore something glint in his eyes as he studied her pouting lips. A plan struck her suddenly, but–

'Good girl.' He hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette as she regained her composure. 'You alright there sweetheart?' He asked with a grin, and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

'Fine.' She hissed, still reeling from. . . Everything. 'You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?'

He nodded, and pulled out and old bottle of bourbon from his bag, 'Could you?' She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. 'Got somethin' for me then?'

Insinuations led her down a path of all kinds of possibilities, but she instead opted for a simple, 'Please?' Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt, 'Thats more like it.' He mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. 'Try anythin'. . .' He raised his eyebrows, and lowered his voice to a mocking tone '. . . run, hurt me' his eyes narrow as a corner of his lip tugs. 'And there'll be a steep price to be payed.'

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, 'I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that right?'

He nodded, 'S'pose so. . .' And began cutting, '. . . difference is girl' the rope snapped and slid down her sides, 'I'd never get caught.' He gathered the rope from her sides, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips.

Her breath hitched, and her skin tingled desperatley for more of him as fluttering wingbeats set of in her stumache. Such a small thing, turning into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire. He sat down on another log, not as far away form her this time. Leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate, 'It's not easy you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you Mr Morgan.'

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question, 'You know me?'

'I know of you.' She corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. 'All bad I guess.' He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. 'Many of the ladies say you're handsome.'

At this he looked up at her, chuckling. 'Well, I don't know 'bout that.'

'It's true. . .' another sip, followed by a hiccup. 'They say you can be quite the gentleman too.'

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humours her. 'Depends on the lady.' He reaches for the bottle, and she stands up to give it to him. Walking closer, she hands it over, fingers brushing against eachother in the motion.

His eyes meet hers, and she brushes her hand under his chin, 'You know what else they say Mr Morgan?'

'No, what do they say about me sweetheart?' A smirk tugged at his lip, the liquor starting to affect the both of them.

'That you're good in bed. . .' She steps between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hums appreciatively, then takes another sip of the bourbon and sets the bottle aside. His hands reach for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him and squeezing them at his pleasure. 'They're only rumours girl.' He tilts his head backward against tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hikes her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she step over his legs, one at a time, slowly sinking down onto his lap as his hands automatically slide to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge, and he grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

'I doubt it Mr Morgan.' She whispered, 'Women do not lie to eachother of such things.' his bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her, but she wills it from her lips so that it only reaches her eyes. 'They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood.' As she says that, she swears she detects the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan. . . Blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself as the smile reaches her lips. Hes quite endearing.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. 'That's told of me in everythin' I do girl.' He smirks, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

'But you're always sweet 'n caring.' She continues, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It was becoming hard to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, she rocked her hips downward. Grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as she nuzzles his cheek. 'Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys–'

'Girl.' He interrupted with a chuckle, 'I know what you're doin'.' He breathes, 'Seducin' me.' With the tight grip on her hips, he helps rock her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shoots out to burry itself in his hair. Then she leans into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rests her head against his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, and mutters, 'You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan girl?'

Her eyebrows furrow, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screws her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she can do to answer him is hum in admittal as shes straining hard to even stay contious.

He chuckles. 'Easy girl. . .' His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slows her hips, but keeps the pace hard. 'Use your words.' He orders, loving the way shes falling apart for him.

She nods hastily, hoping it would satisfy his request. But he pinches her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrow in pain, however not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep secret anymore, 'Yes– yes. . .' She sighs, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

'Mmh, thought so.' He breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. His hands leave her hips, one arm snaking around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stands, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. 'Mr Morgan?' She inquires, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walks them to the tent, 'Arthur.' He corrects, carrying her with ease. He pushes the flap to the side and kneels, bending over her as he lays her on the ground.

'Arthur.' She smiles, worry seeping out as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slide apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shoot up, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes meet, 'Please. . .' She whimpers, one hand sliding downward. '. . .Please.' She says again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. 'Outlaw or gentleman?' She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

He grunts, lips brushing over hers. 'Neither.' And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch, catching the other in the motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, 'Arthur, please. . .' Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completley different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope burning her skin in the motion.

She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckles, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrects her, 'Should've behaved.' And when done, he sits back. Observing her as she lies tied up, legs spread infront of her, circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. 'It's late.' He grunts curtly, then stands and walks toward the flap.

'Arthur. . .' She pleads, trying one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral, 'Get some sleep, you got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.' He flashes his eyebrows smugly, 'Night, sweetheart.' Then exits the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelivable. Nuzzling herself into the bedroll.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he calls her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

#arthur murgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfic

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star-girl69 · 4 months

Text

New Romantics

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse meet during a capture the flag game, In A Good Way prequel!!

a/n: IM SO GLAD EVERYONE LIKES MY CLARISSE FIC ☹️☹️☹️☹️ i have so many planned but i just wanted to say thank you all sm!!!! this one is so silly….. i hope you all enjoy!!

LMK IF YOU WANNA BE ON MY CLARISSE TAGLIST!!!!!!

New Romantics - Taylor Swift

warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of death and blood, insane clarisse bc she gets a LITTLE too into capture the flag, protective clarisse obvi i will never write a fic without her showing up, clarisse makes me SWOON if you couldn’t tell, not proofread we get turned into pine trees like thalia over here, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your legs ache. You’ve been at Camp Half Blood all your life, but you just spent the entire school year doing absolutely nothing. It was an adjustment. You’re already being forced into the horrible tradition of capture the flag. You met up with your favorite and best friends Jackie and Tyla at the beginning of summer, and you’ve all been attached to the hip ever since.

The three of you thought you could escape to a random part of the woods and skip out.

It’s not like you were lazy, or couldn’t hold your own in a fight- but you had just taken turns doing each others nails yesterday, and it would be such a shame to see them all smudged and broken.

You were on the red team, so you watched as the incomparable Clarisse La Rue ran around instructing everyone what to do- completely skipping past the three of you. Jackie took it to heart, complaining about how she had lasted two minutes sparring with Clarisse once, and she had no right to label all Aphrodite kids as weak and useless.

You remember the night you finally made it to the crest of camp, blood staining your hands, your satyr protector dead on the ground behind you as some monster you didn’t know the name of chased after you.

The three of you thought maybe a nice walk at the edge of the woods would be nice, when suddenly a squadron of the blue team came running out trying to catch you as prisoners. It wasn’t a rule of the game, but it was generally expected that that the winner had more prisoners, or else the victory just didn’t seem right.

The blue team saw Aphrodite kids as easy targets to pick off.

This felt all too familiar to that stormy light, your pounding heart, looking around as everything crashed around you. One of them even jumped down from the freaking trees, and you screamed at the top of your lungs as all three of you sprinted off into different directions.

There was only one chasing behind you, a Hermes kid you didn’t know the name of, but he was fast on your tail.

Just as you had reached the crest of the hill, you screeched at the top of your lungs as you saw four figures in front of you. A satyr. Two girls. One boy.

“Not another one,” the stayr moaned, before beckoning you towards them. You stayed frozen in place. The monster was big and slow, but you could hear it approach.

The boy held out his hand.

“I promise,” he breathed, locking eyes with the smaller girl, maybe a year or two younger than you, before looking up at the older girl. You could tell she was battle hardened, she was ready to win this. “We’ll all make it to camp.”

Both monsters chasing you let out ear-piercing roars, and you quickly slapped your hand into his and sprinted away.

Thalia, you would later learn her name, didn’t survive that night. But you did. Luke did. Annabeth did.

The three of you will forever be bonded by that, even if you’re on different teams in capture the flag. Gods, you wish it was Luke chasing you right now- but it’s not.

You’ve forgotten everything about swords and fighting in exchange for the Russian Revolution and the Periodic Table. You hate school even more in this moment.

He reaches out towards you and you’re distracted by his hand touching your shoulder, heart pounding in your ears, and you trip right over a root and stumble before falling to the ground.

You faintly see the flash of bronze armor pass you, then you suddenly hear a body slam into the ground. You whip around, only to find a girl wearing a red-tipped helmet on top of the boy chasing you.

“Clarisse!” she shouts. “I got him!”

You breathe heavily, watching at the boy yells and tries to buck her off of him, but you faintly remember seeing her constantly around Clarisse. She must be another Ares kid, which means there’s no way she’s letting this Hermes kid gets away.

Clarisse saunters out of the woods on your left, looking between you and the boy on the ground.

You sit up on your hands, watching it all play out, not able to catch your breath.

She smiles, slow, like a cheshire cat.

Gods, why does she have to look like that? Why does she have to smile like that? Why does she have to make you feel this way?

Why doesn’t she just drop the spear and make out with you?

“So, this is the dummy who thinks it’s funny to chase around Aphrodite kids,” she says, slowing walking turns him. The girl holds up his head so he has to look at Clarisse. She places the end of her spear into the dirt. She leans down in front of him. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Aphrodite cabin is on the red team, right? Right?”

The girl tugs his head up and he winces, but nods.

“And who captains the red team? Cause I think it’s me, isn’t it?”

He’s learned his lesson. He nods quickly, now.

“I’m feeling nice today. Why don’t you apologize to the pretty girl, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

His eyes lock with yours. He says nothing.

“I said apologize, dumbass.”

He glares at Clarisse.

“You’re fucking insane.”

She laughs a bit. “It’s capture the flag, Zander, why are you not getting a little crazy? Chasing after Aphrodite kids is just embarrassing, honestly.”

“Fine,” he spits. “Fucking fine. I’m sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” she coos. She nods, and the girl let’s him go.

Holy Hades if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

He runs straight off into the woods after a moment, when he realizes they’re not gonna chase after him, not now at least.

The other girl turns to you. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dust off your knees. “There’s more of them by the edge, just so you know. Just north of the river.”

The girl smiles. “Gods, yes. Fuckin’ love destroying the Hermes cabin.”

Clarisse turns to you. She tilts her head to the side, watching you breath heavily on the ground. She sticks out your hand. Your grab it quick, scared she might pull away, and her hand is so warm and fits perfectly with yours. She pulls you up and you dust off your knees.

The other girl takes off running, following the boy, yelling for Clarisse to hurry up.

She smiles a bit, and you swear to Zeus her cheeks are a little flushed, you swear she looks at your lips for a second.

She brushes her thumb across her cheek.

“You’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous.”

She runs off before you can say anything, electrical spear crackling to life.

Oh, you fucking love capture the flag.

—-

clarisse “you’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous” la rue the woman you are

—-

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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luvmmarner · 1 year

Text

PROMPTS OF ALL PROMPTS

I would definitely make intense smut prompts later! For now I hope you enjoy these fluff angst prompts instead! Requests are always opened!

For others that want to use these prompts! You're free to do so! Just tag me no need to credit. I would love to read it and see what you came up with! -- FLUFF PROMPTS

“Can you hug me”

“My teammates gets annoyed because I talk about you 24/7”

“Can we have a date night tonight?”

“Do you know you're pretty”

“Why are you being a pain?”

“Stop simping for me you simp”

“Your blushing you idiot”

“Are you kidding me? I love cuddles”

“Your hair smells good.”

“I just want to lay here all day”

“Can you wash my hair for me?”

“I really need you right now”

“I like you.. well no… I love you”

“I love your smile”

“You sent me inappropriate pictures. When I was out in public”

“Why are you so clingy?”

“Fine. We can stay home tonight”

“Dance with me in the rain”

“Let’s jump in the puddles!”

“Can I sit on your lap?”

“Kiss me please!”

“Can you rub my arm in circles?”

“I’m wearing your shirt if that’s fine!”

“This still smells like you” (long distant or for breakups)

“Your mom gave me pictures of you when you were a baby.”

“Stop you’re making me blush in public”

“Don’t… I’m ticklish —“

“I can’t sleep can I stay here”

“I had a nightmare…”

“I care about you”

“You mean everything to me”

“You make me feel like I’m at home every time”

“Can I give you a hug? You look like you need one”

“Stop denying it! You need sleep”

“You’re so adorable.”

“You make me so happy.”

“I need pads”

“I don’t ever want to lose you”

“I feel better now that you’re here with me”

“It’s like we are meant to be”

“I’m not going anywhere”

“I feel safe when I’m with you”

“I can’t reach the top shelf.. Can you help?”

“Here take my jacket.”

“I just started my period…”

“I’m right here baby, it’s okay”

“I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m never leaving you.”

“You're mine forever.”

“Should we make it official?”

BEACH PROMPTS

“Can you do my sunscreen?”

“Why is your massages better than you scratching my back”

“Please come in the water”

“Stop it’s cold!”

“I'm going to splash you!”

“My sandcastle is better than yours”

“I won!”

“Don’t throw me in the water!!!”

“I’m trying to tan”

“Stand in front of me you block the sun”

“Can you give me a piggyback”

“The sand is hot”

“Come with me on the floatie!”

“Can you set up the umbrella?”

WINTER PROMPTS

“it’s snowing!”

“We are locked in…”

“Let’s look at the stars through the window”

“Can we bake gingerbread cookies”

“You got frosting on your face”

“It’s so cold..”

“I love hot coco.”

“Look! I caught a snowflake in my mouth!”

“You got snow in your hair!”

“My snowman is better!”

“Whoever gets to the bottom of the hill first wins!”

“It’s freezing, could you turn on the heat?”

“Snowball fight!!!”

“I got snow in my boots, now my feet are cold.”

“Dw! I’ll warm you up!”

“Let’s build a fort!”

“This is the perfect time to set up the Christmas tree!”

“Ooh! I love sledding!”

“Woo! That was sooo fun!”

“Here! I made this one just for you!”

“You have such good decorating skills!”

SUMMER/CAMPING PROMPTS

“It’s so hot!”

“Can I borrow your hat please?”

“May you buy me a slushie? I forgot my wallet”

“The mosquitoes are killing me”

“Here let me spray you”

“Let’s go on a hike!”

“The sun is so bright.”

“Did you forget the sunscreen.”

“Baby, can you get my backside please?”

“I want to go swimming.”

“Can we just stay inside!”

“This is the perfect spot to set up our campsite.”

“I got the marshmallows!”

“I’ll help you set up the tent. But.. I don’t know how.”

“I’m already tired.”

“Let's roast marshmallows!”

“I made a smore just for you!”

“We can share.”

“Come swimming with me!”

“The water is sooo warm.”

“I rented a boat. You know how to drive it right..?”

“Don’t worry, of course I got the beer.”

“I love summer parties.”

“No… I didn’t steal your towel… Ok fine I did”

“Put me down – Ok ok fine fine! You win.”

“Can we go on a road trip?”

“You pushed me into the water, you jerk!”

“I couldn’t help myself… All the ice-cream flavours looked so good!”

“I didn’t buy any more ice cream.. The receipts are lies!!!!”

“Can we stay longer!!”

ANGST/ARGUMENT/BREAKUP PROMPTS

“You promised me.”

“You lied. You said you would never leave me.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know everything”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I loved you.”

“Why don’t you trust me”

“This can’t be goodbye.”

“Please don’t walk out.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t love you.”

“We were never meant to be.”

“I just wanted to be enough for you.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“Stop saying sorry! It’s always ‘I’m sorry’. When you really aren’t”

“If you’re sorry, why did you leave me?”

“You thought I was dumb.”

“I know you’re lying.”

“Why did I fall in love with you.”

“I’m so stupid to think we had something.”

“You never cared about me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop being selfish.”

“I moved on.”

“You cheated on me.”

“This isn’t working…”

“No. We can’t… we are too toxic for each other.”

“Why me..”

“Us? There was never an ‘us’.”

“I’m done.”

“It’s better if we just stop seeing each other.”

“I can’t love you.”

“You broke my heart so carelessly. Now you want forgiveness?”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Your always mad at me.”

“What do you want? Because I could care less.”

“I was such a fool.”

“You talked to her and then lied about it.”

“You told people that you were single…”

“I thought you loved me..”

“How could you…”

“That’s not going to happen. I already told you.”

“What's wrong with you seriously?”

“You lost me”

“Where’s your new gf/bf?”

“Shouldn’t you be with your new gf/bf”

“I thought things were going amazing”

“I thought wrong…”

“This is goodbye.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“I can’t live without you.’

“What did you expect me to say?”

“Our relationship is in the past. I’m sorry.”

“I like someone else.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“How did you think this wouldn’t hurt me?”

“I think it’s best if we don’t meet again.”

“You didn’t love me, did you?”

“I hope you're happier.”

“At least you got what you wanted”

“I was miserable and I still loved you.”

“Stop pretending. You wanted me like this… You wanted me broken and you got what you wanted.”

“We can’t keep talking. This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s best if we stop talking… like forever.”

“You're not the same person I fell in love with.”

“You don’t own me.”

“You act like everything is fine when it’s not!”

“Can we not argue for once.”

“Not now. Not even in a million years. I would ever think to give you another chance.”

“I fell for your lies again, and now I’m not anymore.”

“I was nothing to you. I was only a toy for you to manipulate and I fell for it.”

“Why wouldn’t you admit to everything! This was all your fault.”

“I hate you.”

“I despise you.”

“You were my ride or die.”

“I don’t fall in love. I don’t want to be loved or love someone else.”

“If I leave you know you would never see me again.”

“I deserve better.”

“You were my first and would be my last.”

“Don’t – Don’t make me fall in love again.”

“You know we can’t..”

“I know this is random and we haven’t talked in awhile.. But can you stay with me one more night and just forget about everything.”

“It was indeed. The wrong place the wrong time”

“Good for you!”

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?”

“We shouldn’t be together anymore. I’m supposed to hate you.”

“How could I be so oblivious..”

“Why did I even think I could be enough for you.”

“I needed to hold you once more.”

“I don’t understand.. Wha- what are you saying..”

“I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later.”

“Don’t bother to call me when you need something later.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was just mad..”

“Please forgive me.”

“Why are you suddenly coming back into my life after I just started to do good.”

“Do you not understand the words ‘I’m done’.”

“Haha! You think I love you? That’s pathetic.”

FICS/STORY IDEAS

Here’s some storyline ideas. You can decide if you want it angst or fluff or whatever! I don’t mind if you take this ideas. You don’t need to credit just a tag, so I could read it! Would be great!

All the promises were already broken.

Just one more night with no feelings, nothing. After that we forget.

Reader finds out their relationship was nothing, but a lie.

He wanted her back. She moved on.

Even after breaking up. They still find ways back to each other.

He manipulated her and she fell for it.

They are toxic for each other. But always end up in bed with each other.

He wanted her back but she isn’t giving him another chance.

He left her and she still wanted him back.

They were never meant to be and they knew that. They just can’t let each other go.

She just wanted to be enough for him, but he didn’t care.

He cheated and she found out. Now he realized he can’t live without her.

He didn’t deserve her. But her love for him is stronger.

They thought they had something. But then decided it was best if they stopped seeing each other.

She always forgave him, but this time she didn’t.

How could you be in love with someone who is always mad at you. She knew it was best if she just left. But after everything they've been through it wasn’t going to be easy.

She couldn’t love him as much as she wanted to. It was forbidden to sleep with someone you worked for. But she couldn’t help but ignore the rule.

He was such a fool for letting her into his life. But maybe it was the best thing to happen to him.

They broke up, but they can’t live without each other.

Their relationship was fragments of the past, but deep down their love was still stronger than ever. What happens when they meet again?

She thought things were going amazing. Well she thought wrong.

He got what he wanted and he was happy. Meanwhile she was still broken and miserable.

Their relationship was amazing at the start. But over time the person that she fell in love with wasn’t the same.

After years of talking. They decided it was best if they stopped. Maybe it actually didn’t stop in the end.

He didn’t listen and thought everything was fine. She knew everything wasn’t fine and just wanted him to listen.

She despised him. He was arrogant and only cared about himself. That was until he gave her a ride home.

She didn’t want to fall in love with him again until his touch made her do the one thing she didn’t want to do ‘fall in love again’.

They stopped talking, but he called her wanting just one more night to forget about everything.

No denying they loved each other. But this was their third breakup. It was just best if she left for good.

He was her first love and would be her last. (either she could meet someone else or something!)

He didn't care about any girls and most importantly. He didn’t fall in love. That was until he saw her and his whole life changed.

She knew he was pretending and she wasn’t falling for it.

After years of dating they finally said the 3 words. ‘I love you’

Maybe being snowed in wasn’t so bad after all.

He didn’t seem to understand the words ‘I’m done.’ If they were done, why was she in his bed again.

After years of apologizing. Apology accepted.

After she said don’t ‘bother calling when you need something’. Turns out it was her in the end calling for something.

Maybe jealousy is something that can reunite the flame that was lost.

He was jealous and she didn’t care.

She didn’t trust him. Until one night when drinks got the best of her, and waking up on his couch realized how wrong she was.

She thought he didn’t love her. Until he showed her how much he did.

He didn’t understand that she was breaking up with him. She wanted so badly to say no. But her desires got the best of her.

#prompt list #prompt fluff #fluff prompts #angst prompt #angst prompts #writing prompts #prompts #angst #fluff #winter prompts #beach prompts #summer prompts #camping prompts #fun prompts #writing #prompt idea #prompt ideas #smut ideas #smut prompts

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bratbby333 · 1 month

Text

jjk camp counselor au

nsfw brain dump, multiple x reader feat: satoru, suguru, nanami, toji, sukuna, shoko + choso summary: you're a camp counselor trying to make the most of your summer

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

satoru would definitely be the one to lead the rallies each morning, he's so charismatic and domineering. he'd also be in charge of the 15-17 year old group (obvi). he'll blatantly flirt with the other female counselors in front of you to make you jealous, sneaking away to the woods while the kids are eating lunch to apologize to you while balls deep inside you...summer fling energy fr

"i-im sorry...promise...it was nothin...meant n-nothing 't me" he pants out, seeing the irritated look on your face as you glare at him from over your shoulder, arms bracing your body against a tree, your jean shorts down by your ankles, panties shoved to the side. "shut up and keep fucking me, satoru," you roll your eyes in response. "show me how sorry you are," your demanding voice wavering slightly, stifling your moans so he doesn't know how good it feels, trying to keep up your annoyed facade. but god does he feel amazing, his tip stimulating your sweet spot with every stroke. he fucks you so much better when he thinks he's in trouble...he's a whining, whimpering mess for you power bottom!gojo supremacy

suguru is most definitely the chill instructor, leading the more creative activities; arts n crafts like tie-dye, making jewelry, etc. all the kids love him, too. he'd beam with pride as they run up to him to show him what they were able to create. he'd profess his feelings for you with a handmade, beaded bracelet.

you sneak out of the women's cabin in the middle of the night to meet up with suguru, finding him sat on the crest of a hill with a blanket laid out to watch the stars "suguru...this is precious," you gasp, eyes bright with adoration, taking a seat next time him, your legs kicked out in front of you and your arms propping you up. - "what about the kids? what if they see us?" you ask, concern plastered across your face, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands secured behind his neck, fingers tangling in his long hair. "don't worry, love," he breaths out, pausing his strokes, his strong arms positioned on either side of your head, "nanami's watching mine and shoko's watching over yours...plus we're so far from camp, no one's gonna see us", he reassures you with his pelvis flush against your core. "you just look so beautiful like this, i couldn't resist" he'd moan out, returning to his initial pace, thrusting deep and slow, the blanket he had laid out now disheveled. the moonlight bounces off your skin in the most ethereal way, and suguru can't get enough of you.

nanami would be in charge of the whole camp, carefully organizing everyone's permission slips, allergy forms and medical records (which were alphabetized and given to shoko), the payments from parents, the whole nine yards; ensuring everything ran smoothly. he would also be the one supervising the obstacle courses. he'd carefully and methodically strap the kids into their harnesses, surveying everyone intently...do you really think he'd trust the other dummies he works with to do so?

and of course he'd find a way to repurpose the harnesses as restraints in the privacy of the men's cabin with you, the two of you slipping away during one of satoru's overly energetic pep rallies. "ken...what if someone catches us?" you moan out, your arms secured behind you, your back arched, and your chest pressed against the mattress. his deep, purposeful strokes continue, his voice steady as he repsonds. "don't worry, love. we made the mistake of giving satoru the mic, he'll talk for hours if you let him...now hush and let me take care of you, yeah?" you nod back before moaning loudly, the depth of his cock in this position is hitting spots you didn't know existed. "you're taking me so well. such a good girl for me," he groans out, his trust speeding up, the sounds you're making for him spurring him on.

toji would be in charge of the more physical intramurals; dodgeball, kickball, archery, and life guard on duty for the water activities.

and god did he look good while patrolling the waters, his broad shoulders and tanned skin glowing under the summer sun, his wet swim trunks clinging to his thick, muscular thighs. you watch him from your beach chair, legs clenching and core pulsing at the sight of his sternly focused face, his eyes running up and down the lake, his body glistening from the droplets of water trickling from his damp hair. you're glad shoko is more attentive with the kids because your mind is elsewhere (and for a valid reason, too). - after the kids are sent to get changed into their dry clothes, he absolutely obliterates you in the boat house. "saw you watchin' me the whole time...this what you needed, love?" he'd ask through gritted teeth, his thrusts hard and deep, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. you whimper in response, eyes low, mouth agape, nodding profusely as his fingers dig deeper into your hipbones. "uh huh..needed you so bad, toji," you whine out. baywatch!toji has me putting my fist in my mouth

sukuna would not get hired because the organizers were afraid that he'd try to create a child army and illicit a rebellion to overthrow the camp counsellors, creating a dystopian society where the kids tend to the land and run his errands for him. bummer... ruined his summer plans.

shoko helps you run the girl's cabin. she also works the first aid tent during the day, her long hair tied back to keep her cool. you lean up against a tree, admiring her beauty. you're pulled from your daydream when gojo elbows you in the side, shooting you an amused look; "go make a move, she likes women, ya know?" wiggling his eyebrows at you before running off to frolic in the water with his group.

the two of you sneak away during the bonfire, finding yourself in her bunk, laid on your back with her soft tongue attacking your clit. "sho, i'm close," you gasp out, your hands tangling in her auburn hair. she hums in response, the vibrations pushing you even closer to your release. you cry out for her, the pleasure coursing through you is overwhelming your senses. she uses one hand to cover your mouth, the other swipes between your folds before inserting two finger into your dripping cunt, curling slightly to massage your g-spot. your hips buck against her mouth, before you spill all over her tongue from the added stimulation. as you try to regain your breath, she leans over you and places two fingers against your neck. you gaze up at her through dazed eyes, shooting her a questioning look. "just checkin' your pulse, thought i was losin' you," she laughs.

choso takes his job very seriously, basically a helicopter parent while watching the kids...he's so protective of the children, treating them as if they were his own siblings. he stops dead in his tracks when he first lays eyes on you, watching you interact with your group; you are so sweet with your kids, tenderhearted and caring...he falls in love almost immediately and all he wants is to get close to you.

his soft, slow strokes make you giggle into his ear. everyone's in the mess hall for dinner, leaving the cabin empty, the once silent building now filled with your moans. "cho, you can be rougher with me," you sigh out, pulling him deeper into you, groaning at the stretch of his fully engulfed member. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, a long moan leaving his parted lips as he bottoms out against you. his cheeks flush to a bright red...you swear you can feel the heat emanating off them. "i know...jus' scared i'll cum fast if i go harder...you're just so pretty...so fuckin' sweet, angel," he whimpers out. he paws at every inch of you, his strokes getting more frantic, kissing your cheeks delicately and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

author notes: this made me giggle so much while writing. i love doing short form AUs, theyre so entertaining to me. sorry about sukuna's i was feeling unhinged when i wrote it

if u have any requests, feel free to send them my way! here's the link to my inbox ☺︎ leave an emoji if you want to be added to my anon club, or send it with your url and i'll credit you!

i really liked this idea and im considering making it a longer story, but i only wanna focus on one character x reader...leave a comment with who you'd want it to be with! (counselor!gojo is calling to me, but what do y'all think?)

thank you all for your love and support on my work...i literally tear up when i get the notifications. i'm so honored that y'all find my writing enjoyable enough to interact ❤︎

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loveindefinitely · 3 months

Text

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

11 — COME BACK TO REMIND ME OF WHO I WAS

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I forgot how ugly he was.”

Price, beside you, raises a slightly bemused brow. Taking the binoculars from your easy grip, he too, examines the target standing on the mansion’s balcony. A cigar sits between Price’s lips, mirroring the less sophisticated Marlboro between the Lieutenant General’s.

The man, one of the few higher-ups you were somewhat close with, is a decorated Shadow Company leader. Known for his strategy and persuasion, he was always a good asset.

Shame he was always this side of too touchy, and a general ass to anyone who had a vagina. Or an inclination for the same sex.

Real pity that he’s the one with the information you need, and the one you can’t kill.

“You’re not wrong, darlin’,” Price murmurs under his breath, exhaling a puff of smoke as he slips the cigar from his mouth, the cherry burning in the dark of night.

Ghost, like usual, is found a few buildings down, sniper at the ready. Soap and Gaz were ordered to stay behind for this mission, much to their chagrin. It was the closest you’d seen Gaz fight with his Captain, and Soap was just being generally pouty.

Both you, and Price, had managed to reason that expertise in explosions and protection wasn’t exactly wanted for a quick get-and-grab.

And, maybe, a small part of you needs a break from the two Sergeants. Your night with Gaz has infected your mind, even now, the day after. And seeing him, with his bright smile and dimples and eyes made your heart skip a beat. Especially with how no one could know of your rendezvous, lest you be kicked out of the deal.

Or worse.

You swallow, once, accepting the binoculars once more when Price hands them back to you with another puff of his cigar. He’s surprisingly courteous about it, not blowing the smoke into your face.

“Lt, we have eyes on the target. Over,” you speak into your radio, eyes like a hawk as you watch the Lieutenant General shake off flakes from his cigarette over the pristine white railing. He’s shorter than most, especially considering his rank, and you can’t help a small, private smile growing on your face at that small fact.

“Been around bloody Johnny too much,” Ghost mutters, and you roll your eyes. “No hostiles spotted, you’re good to go.”

Rising into a crouch, Price gives you a curt nod, before gesturing for you to follow him. You do so with quiet movements, the only sound the barely there crunch of dirt underneath your boots.

Your previous Lieutenant General was always an uncomfortably wealthy man, and you see now what he’s chosen to do with such an abundance of money. He lives in an off-the-grid mansion, deep in the middle of nowhere, only hills and trees around him.

Those families in Las Almas, displaced and killed and ruined – they were entirely more deserving of just a fraction of this wealth. Your tongue feels coated with something sour.

Price smells like cinnamon and spice, even in his gear, and it’s a scent that settles in your belly like a warm stew.

It’s rare, these days, to see daylight. All this recon work done well past midnight, hiding in the shadows and staying low. Not your favourite, but at the same time, it’s kind of… nice, doing this, just you and Price and the moon. No having to tiptoe around what to say around Gaz, or avoiding Soap’s innuendos.

If only it wasn’t for Ghost, too, watching over the two of you.

God, how you hated that man. His snarky comments, the roll of his eyes, his mask he refused to take off. And the way he almost looked down at you, questioned your authority, not unlike all the men you’d known. Worked alongside. Hated, too, in much the same vein.

You wonder, distantly, if he’ll ever come around. If there was at all a possibility of a civil interaction between you both, one that didn’t end in death threats or glares or passing out.

“Somethin’s on your mind.”

Head snapping up, you meet Price’s knowing blue eyes. Calculating, always aware, always ready for the worst case scenario.

“Not really, Cap,” you easily shake off in a whisper, continuing to follow him, until your backs are pressed against the beige, concrete wall. Your assault rifle is pulled to your chest, safety off.

The bandage on your cheek had been replaced just this afternoon, a soothing balm and fresh wrappings alleviating the growing itch that had been forming on your face. What was another scar, even? This one, at least, had somewhat of a neutral memory attached.

Ghost’s chest, his arms, a single threat turned into a promise.

You blink.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed if you underestimate our smarts,” Price says, low, under his breath. His words have you halting.

“Sir –”

“I know you’re used to bein’ the smartest kid in the regiment,” he continues, not unkindly, “But you’d do yourself well to remember that my boys are here for a reason, too. We know more than you give us credit for.”

His voice is deep, gruff, even in the low whisper he’s reduced to.

A shiver erupts down your spine as you feel out where to start climbing the wall, trying not to look at the man next to you. His words – they hit a part of you that you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Never said you guys weren’t smart, Captain.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Colonel.”

You have nothing to say to that – an irony, all things considered. Instead, you jerk your head towards the bricks that’ll allow you both to scale the side of the mansion. With your gloves on, the two of you make it to the third floor, shuffling through an open window.

It’s pitch black, except for a lone light turned on in your target’s study, just down the hall.

The air is stale, stifling, potent with old filing and decade-old cologne. It has your throat feeling clogged, your eyes slightly glassy as you move towards the light, gun at the ready.

This is, you realise, the first time you’re working beside the Captain.

You’d worked in tandem, obviously, but never so closely knit like this. With him at your six, his body like a furnace when beside your own, it’s an entirely new dynamic. So different to that of his subordinates – more steady, controlled.

Ghost is silent over the radio, a small mercy, as you two find your way into the study, backs to the wall as you quickly clear the room. You never knew when a surprise could be awaiting you.

“Check the drawers, I’ll look through the shelves,” Price whispers, a direct command delivered in a raspy breath.

You nod, immediately transferring your gun to your back as you rush through the desk’s contents.

The room is dusty, obviously having seen little use in recent years, and the drawers are filled to the brim with knick knacks. Old paper clips, photos, receipts – everything, except for what you need.

“Got anything?” You find yourself asking, a harsh whisper in the still quiet of the room.

Price shakes his head, a stern movement, still searching through the shelves with a stealthy yet quickened pace. You focus back on the drawers, going through each one with efficient and expert ease. Some old gum packets, paper clips. Fuck.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your throat feels thick with dread.

The contract you were looking for – it could be the beginning of the end. You needed this like you needed air, right now, and if you didn’t find it –

“Darlin’,” Price calls, smooth but demanding. You instantly look up, drawn to the man like a moth to a flame. “We’re goin’ to find it. Stop thinkin’.”

It’s, obviously, easier said than done.

You appreciate his sentiment – the way he’s trying to guide you – but that sinking feeling of despair has you gripped in its tenuous claws; unrelenting and powerful and cruel. It feels as though everything is riding on this; like your very existence will disappear as soon as you find out the document has.

A hand on your shoulder startles you out of your thoughts.

It’s Price.

“You need to get your head in, Colonel,” he orders, his voice no longer patient or kind. This is the voice of a Captain. “I am not about to waste my time here if you can’t do your job.”

It’s exactly what you need, right now, and he knows it. You know it.

You take a breath.

And you nod.

He claps your shoulder, a firm glint in his eyes as he jerks his head towards the rest of the room. You’re running on a timer – your mini spiral an unnecessary hurdle. All you have to do is block off that side of your brain, and get the bloody job done.

Although Ghost is still silent as ever, you can feel his looming presence even without being at all in his line of sight.

It’s debilitating.

With more meticulous movements and keener eyes, you look through the drawers. Less desperate, more knowing, because if there’s any doubt that you won’t find it –

“Target is leaving the balcony – I’m ‘bout to lose sight on ‘im,” Ghost’s quick voice starts through your radio. The slight tone of worry has every inch of you on edge. Your wide eyes flicker to Price’s – whose jaw sets.

“Copy, Lieutenant,” Price murmurs, voice low.

The gun strapped to your back feels heavier than before, now, and your hand drifts to the pistol attached to your thigh. The same one that’s come in handy time and time again.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps – down the hall. Heading towards –

A hand on the scuff of your neck. A door being pulled open – pitch black.

Your heart thunders in your chest, Price’s hand pressed against your sternum, his chest against yours. The air is tight, and you’re cornered in a…

Closet.

Price pulled you into a closet – and now, you’re stuck with his thigh between yours and his arm outstretched above your head. You feel entirely weak before him, the Captain of the 141.

If it was at all in question, anymore, you would’ve considered that this would be the perfect time to kill you. To be rid of Grave’s right-hand woman, and to cut off any loose ends.

Instead, all you can feel is his warm breath against your forehead.

The footsteps pause, but the creak of the study’s door has your spine rigid all over again. Price presses in closer to you – and you don’t make a single movement. Don’t speak a single word, in case its very syllables are your undoing.

You can’t see, not in this speckled darkness, but price’s very existence feels so strong against your own that you can’t help but shudder a breath.

“Sir – You can’t possibly be serious. Use your damn brain.”

Your ex-Lieutenant General hisses into what you assume is his phone. And by his grating voice dripping with stress? There’s only one man on this Earth that he could be talking to.

Phillip Graves.

You can’t make out what your Commander says in response – not through the small, tinny voice of the phone, but you can pretty much guess his sentiment.

“Most of our men are gone! We can’t take down that bloody Task Force –” He hisses, his voice palpably furious. Without realising it, you find yourself curling in further to Price – his own head ducking down to shield you subconsciously.

The creak of the study’s floorboards, echoing under the weight of the man’s boots, makes your heart pound.

You feel not unlike a small child, hiding from their parents while the sound of yelling and smashing glasses echoes around the room. The long since buried memory of your father – before he left, before he broke your mother’s heart – of dark hair and angry, pulsing veins. The same veins you inherited.

The ones of which you wish you could carve out of your skin, just to watch the fury bleed out.

“Why the fuck is she so important? Good pussy or not –” Your heart, a thud, thud, thud, “ – She’s just a girl. She’s not worth it.”

Price’s hand tightens his hand, unconsciously clasping your throat like it’s a new necklace of yours. It’s oddly comforting, even if it threatens to block your airflow. His chin nearly rests atop your head, so close, but all you get is the waft of cigars and ink.

Graves must respond with something – something that the man just a few feet away from you does not appreciate.

“At this rate, the worst case scenario is that she finds out,” the man starts to pace, the rhythm of his footfalls matching the heaving rises of your chest, “And then what? Get your fucking head in, Commander.”

Your mind’s flooded with possibilities, what could possibly constitute the worst case scenario, when the next sentence shatters you entirely.

“She’s smart, Commander, and she’s gonna want to figure out the truth of dear old mum’s death soon. Don’t be idiotic.”

Silence.

Your ears ring – your throat closes, and your common sense crumbles at your feet.

The next few moments happen in easy, recognisable steps.

One. You shove Price off of you – not in a way that’d cause him pain, but forceful enough that he can’t push back in time to stop you.

Two. You swing the closet door open, the light flooding your view, along with the large frame of the Lieutenant General.

Three. You slide your trusty pistol from your hollister, flick off the safety, and aim with a shaky grip.

And you shoot.

The bullet slices clean and true through the man’s forehead, blood instantly dripping between his eyes as he falls forward, body slumping, until the phone clatters to the carpet alongside him.

Price yells something. You can’t hear it past the ringing in your ears, the muffled sound that drifts between reality and thought.

Dropping to your knees, you clasp the phone in your grip, blood staining the face of it. You bring it to your ear, hand no longer shaking. Steady as a surgeon.

Graves says something, sounding desperate.

“When I kill you, Commander,” you rasp, and you think you can hear Ghost’s irritating voice through your radio, “I’ll do it the same way I plan to finish Shepherd.”

“You’re gonna regret –” Graves hisses, but all you do is pull the phone from your ear, and press the circular red button.

The line cuts.

A hand falls to your shoulder, shaking you, and it’s only then that the ringing stops, and all of your other senses fall back into place.

The hand moves to the hair at the base of your skull, Price fisting it and pulling your head back to face him. He looks… angry, but it’s softened, somehow, by the understanding in his blue eyes.

“You had one order, Darlin’,” he borderline growls, and your skin prickles, “Tell me what that was.”

A petulant child is what you are. How he’s treating you.

You answer anyway.

“Not to,” you swallow, throat dry, “Not to kill him. Captain, you have to –” His grip on your hair tightens, and your words stop short.

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “If you’re gonna let your feelings get in the way of our mission…”

Even though he doesn’t finish his sentence, you understand the meaning of it. You’re acting reckless, growing impatient – risking yourself and others over petty disputes.

Everything feels so difficult, right now, impossible to comprehend. Like your mind’s on auto-pilot, your body, too.

Price releases his grip from your hair, and you find your gaze moving to the body laid in front of you.

And…

A piece of paper – folded – has fallen just beside his jacket’s pocket. You lean forward, clasping it between your hands without a second thought, and open it up with careful movements.

With every word you read, your mouth falls open wider – until you find yourself standing on unsteady feet, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

It’s.

“It’s not the contract,” you breathe, realising Price is just watching, waiting, looking out for you. You finally look up from the sheet.

“It’s something better.”

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peachesofteal · 2 months

Text

Dad!John Price/female reader This has been living in my head

“Beautiful out, isn’t it?”

The old woman on the docks hitches her shoulder bag higher, eyes fixed on nothing in the distance. John hums an agreement, low pitch slow to rise from his chest. It’s not a dismissal, but not conversation. Non-committal. About as much as you’ll get from him, on a day like today.

He keeps his focus on the expanse of the bay. A metamorphic magma layered coastal cradle holding entire populations of people, and animals, those that live on land… and at sea.

He’s waiting for a fleck of dust on the horizon, a small speck that will slowly turn into ferry, one that carries some passengers, a few packages, bundles of mail by the heap. It is beautiful today; he doesn’t disagree. But it’s not because of the weather. It’s because the ferry is carrying more than just a few passengers home. It’s carrying his worst nightmare. The final nail in a coffin. His own personal hell.

And…

His brightest light. His favorite part of everyday. His everything. The reason his heart still beats.

Both on the same boat.

The sun shines through the tips of the trees, bright on his face, casting an amber yellow glow over the harbor, and he basks in it, even with the brittle cold.

The warmth of the light is foreign this time year, a time year when creeks all run underneath a quickly thickening layer of ice, morning frost lingers beneath cloud cover, and bears sleep.

The town will be full of life today. The bar at the top of the hill, the only one in town, will be burning the midnight oil, everyone appearing at some point throughout the night, eager to have one last rousing round with neighbors and friends before the true cold of winter sets in.

Of course, they don’t hate the cold. They wouldn’t live here if they did.

Life is different in the winter. Year round. Life here revolves more around the weather and the seasons than anywhere else he’s ever been, or lived, and everything from the kelp to the whales, the deer and sea lions, the people, and the wolves, depend on the promise of perpetual change.

The tide washes through little pebbles of ancient volcanic rock like a lullaby, one so familiar he swears he can hear it when he’s working, when he’s worlds away in his mind. It’s peaceful, full of memories, nostalgia beating in his blood for something long gone, long past.

His heart aches, for a moment. Long enough that his brow furrows, and his hands find his pocket, anxiously feeling for the chain.

The ferry shatters his memories, blaring across the beach, and the old woman gives him a smile.

“Early today.” This time, John does respond.

“Good.”

“You must be John.” She offers her hand, face half hidden beneath a large hood and knit muff, black pants and coat nearly matching his.

He hesitates, fingers flexing, and she doesn’t miss a beat, moving on to step around him, speaking briefly to the ferry captain, an old grizzled man who stared at John the entire trip, blatant curiosity wrinkling his frown lines.

The wind cuts through his jacket, snaking beneath his layers, forcing his muscles tense.

Bloody freezing. He's been cold, plenty, but this bitterness has bite.

She squints and jerks her head towards the end of the dock, sunlight glittering in her eyes. They’re beautiful, a rich shade of coffee and hazel, golden spotted and drusy, a cluster of crystals inside dark pupils. They’re a color he could drown in. The kind of eyes he could see in his dreams for the rest of his life.

The kind of eyes capable of disarming him, before he's even drawn a weapon.

“C’mon. Truck’s got heat.”

“Mari says you’ve never been a Ranger before.” She tries to make casual conversation with him, patting the steering wheel as the truck sputters to life. Gears grind, they churn, and she smiles, glancing at the road before putting it in gear. It’s old, rusted in a quaint way, the kind that makes him think of old industrial parks and aging tanks, a rugged red chipped away above the passenger wheel well, rubbed raw by salt air.

“I have… relative experience.” He’s careful with his words, hesitant about over divulging, and she shrugs.

“With people? Or wildlife?” He points his face out the window. With people, sure. With bears and wolves and whatever else lurks in these woods, less so.

The truck climbs a windy road, pushing up above the cove, narrow pitted pavement flanked by forest so black he can hardly see a meter inside the tree line. The shadow that lingers inside the tree line is primordial, alive, and he blinks when he thinks he sees something moving, deep in the dark. Douglas fir, silver fir, white pine flash by, occasional road signs with pictures of animals and speed limits dotting the way. “Logging is big industry out here. Forestry feeds a lot of families in this area, but it can be a point of contention.” She motions past him to another cove, one tucked just around the bend from where the ferry came in, its surface covered in shaved logs, all nearly uniform in size, floating together in rows upon rows, waiting for their next voyage.

“That what you do? Er… logging?” Her hands are rough, skin cracked, nails trimmed short, and the coat is utility. Built for labor. For weather. It’s a natural conclusion.

“No. I run the nature center in the late spring and summer. No tourism in fall or winter though, so I find other things to do. Work for the park. Tag trees. Winter trail maintenance. Wildlife management.” The truck rattles into a left turn, and she waves at someone in an oncoming car. “Guess I kinda work for you now.” Her chuckle is light, sweet, and his cheeks feel warm. “What brought you all the way up here?”

Bloody hell.

“Needed a change of pace.”

“Long way to come for a change.” She muses, and he agrees. It is very, very far. Three planes, two ferries, this truck. Hours of travel, temperature dropping in ten degree increments every time he stepped outside. He doesn’t know how to answer that, how to tell her, what he’s doing here, how to say he had to leave things behind.

The island changes, geology shifting, granite turning to mud and grass, darkness fading as the truck putters into its final descent.

He instinctively taps the tags in his pocket, a nervous tic that’s develops over the last few months since he took them off for the last time and clears his throat.

“Yes. It is.”

The ferry sidles up the wooden dock, rocking in the waves, captain giving the small, older woman next to him a friendly wave. At his side, a woman stands, straight backed and proud, eyes sharp against the setting sun.

Is that…

You catch his gaze, glancing at the Ranger badge on his coat, and then nodding, hand lifting in acknowledgement.

His breath freezes in his chest. You’re stunning. Beautiful, like the land, like the strait, and for a second, he forgets himself.

Igneous rock hardens in his stomach, in his heart.

He's lost at sea. Lost in the swell. An eddy line of devastation sweeps him out, past the lighthouse on the rocks, past the pod of resident orcas, past the point of no return.

He's drowning.

Only to be brought back by one of his favorite sounds in the entire world.

“Dad!”

#John price x reader #peaches writes #John price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #price x reader

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dmwrites · 4 months

Text

One day, Joe Hills set out with a shovel in his hands. He slung it over one shoulder, whistling as he walked.

“Hey Joe, whatcha got there?” TangoTek asked, carrying blocks of ice.

“Oh, just a shovel.” Joe replied. “But it’s ice to see you, TangoTek.”

TangoTek laughed. Joe laughed. They both walked down the path in opposite directions.

It was a good day for a walk. The birds were singing and the sun was shining. But birds were not the only things singing! Joe walked over a hill to find BdoubleO singing loud and clear as he cut down a tree.

“Sir Joe! How wonderful to see you!” BdoubleO said, wiping away sweat on his face.

“Howdy, BdoubleO, why are you chopping down a tree?” Joe asked. He moved his shovel to his other shoulder so it would not hurt him.

“Why, I am using the wood to build a beautiful house!” BdoubleO said. He had big, twinkling eyes and an even bigger smile. “Why do you have a shovel, Joe?”

“I have a hole I need to dig.” Joe said. “And I must not be late for it. Goodbye!”

“Goodbye Joe!” BdoubleO said, waving.

The day was getting warm, and Joe Hills stopped by a river to get a drink of water. He saw his friend Cubfan at the river too!

“Howdy, Cubfan!” Joe called, waving.

“Hey Joe, whats up?” Cubfan asked. He was holding a raw cod fish and a fist full of glittery red redstone dust.

“I was just taking a break, I’ve been walking for a while today. What are you doing here, Cubfan?” Joe asked.

Cubfan looked all around at the grass and the trees, like he was looking for something in particular. Then he took out five diamonds and gave them to Joe!

“Nothing at all. Got it? If anyone asks, I was drinking from the river, same as you. Alright, man?”

Joe thought the diamonds were a very nice gift, and put them in his pocket. “Thanks, Cubfan! Indeed, I saw nothing!”

Cubfan smiled at Joe- he was always so fun to hang out with. Joe wondered why Cubfan looked like he was sweating.

“So what’s with the shovel, Joe?”

“I have an appointment. Very important stuff.” Joe said. “And I should probably get going before the sun sets! Goodbye, Cubfan! Enjoy your nothing!”

The day was beginning to turn into night. The sky was oranges and reds and pinks. Joe walked a little faster- he didn’t want to be late!

Then he came to a fork in the road, and Joe realized he didn’t know which way to go! He felt sad- was he not going to be able to get where he needed to be on time?

“Hi Joe!” Geminitay said, waving to him. She was walking down one of the paths towards him, carrying a basket full of bright flowers.

“Say, which way is the graveyard?” Joe asked. “I appear to be lost.”

“It’s that way, of course, right through the spooky forest!” Geminitay said, pointing down a dirt path. “But why do you want to go to the graveyard, Joe? It’s so scary there!”

“I have something urgent I must do.” Joe said, shifting the shovel over his shoulder.

Geminitay looked at the shovel, then and Joe, but didn’t ask any questions.

“Well, good luck. Watch out for big scary wolves!”

Joe hurried along the path in the spooky forest. The sun was about to fully set, and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to get to the graveyard in time.

All of a sudden, a huge creature ran into his path. Joe was not scared, though, because it was his friend Rendog!

“Joeth of the Hills, my dude, how the heck are you?” Rendog said.

“I am good, Rendog, but I am afraid I can not stop to chat! I have urgent business to attend to.” Joe said.

“Me as well, good sir, as I saw a rabbit just beyond those bushes and must give chase. Goodbye!” Rendog said, and dove back into the forest.

The moon was beginning to rise as Joe Hills stepped into the cemetery. He creeped along the gravestones, careful not to make a peep. He could hear skeletons rattling in the distance, but he was brave. He stopped at a gravestone with a torch above it, and began to dig. He dug straight down, until his shovel scraped against a coffin. He pried it open, using all his strength.

“Hi Joe!”

“Howdy, Cleo. Did you have a nice nap?”

It was Joe’s best friend, ZombieCleo! She had been sleeping in the grave! Cleo yawned and stretched, bones moving strangely under dead and rotting skin.

“It was wonderful, exactly what I needed! Thanks for digging me up! Let’s get out of here and go get some pumpkin spice lattes!”

“How spooky!” Joe said, and he and Cleo held hands as they went to get a yummy treat together.

——

This is my attempt at a “children’s story”-esque fic, and was supposed to be completed for Halloween. Better late then never lolll

#joe hills #hermitcraft #…. there aren’t really many tags I can put on this one tbh lol

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greenishghostey · 1 year

Text

Peppermint Haze

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, bath sex, p in v, unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, fluffy smut, established relationship, Eddie getting to chill out, dirty talk, creampie, soapy boobs, winter themed porn, lots of grinding, this is really just mushy fluffy porn so yeh

Word Count: 3,361

Author’s Notes: Please pretend that bath sex is not a logistical nightmare and that bubble baths aren’t terrible for vaginal health. The cosy, comfy vibes were too good to pass up so here we are :))) DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

///

Hawkins always got indescribably cold by the middle of November. Snow would pile up on tree branches and sidewalks - becoming less of a Christmas card backdrop and more of a slushy inconvenience.

That was definitely the case at Forest Hills Trailer Park. The dirt track roads were frozen solid and covered in a thick layer of powder and wintery mush. A lot of the park’s residents took turns digging out sections of the roads since everyone still had to get to work. Winter wouldn’t stop the likes of Wayne Munson from making it to his Friday night shift.

Eddie and Wayne had been shovelling out Patty, their hippy elderly, neighbour’s grey hatchback when you showed up at their trailer. Friday night was date night, and the shitty weather meant it would be an evening in Eddie’s trailer.

Both you and Eddie had planned an extremely relaxing night since the week had been hell for you both. Eddie had been working late at the craft store because the holiday rush was beginning - he‘d kept you updated on his projects that mainly consisted of measuring fabric and lifting all of the heavy boxes. You had been dealing with an influx of school kids at the library - rushing to get books for their last-minute assignments and begging you for help finding specific titles. So, a little indulgent date was much needed for the pair of you.

Gloria, one of your coworkers, had gifted you with a small Christmas “spa” hamper as a thank you for all your hard work. It consisted of peppermint bath oil, vanilla body wash that doubled as bubble bath, and a cocoa butter lotion. It was all super nice stuff which made you feel a little bad for only having Christmas cards to give to your colleagues. However, the festive kit led to you and Eddie agreeing on your main date night activity.

A really really long bath. He was the one to suggest the idea after you gushed over the gift - the suggestion was mostly innocent, surprisingly. Honestly, you both just wanted to be all cosy and gross in the privacy of his home.

That’s how you found yourself submerged in an amazing soapy bath that smelled like heaven. Only your face was poking out from the bubbles as you breathed deeply - floating and listening to the muffled sounds of Eddie rummaging around his room for tapes. He said he’d made a tape, especially for the evening, making you melt even further into the minty bliss. Your sinuses were going to be so clear after this.

Eddie barged into the steamy bathroom in his usual loud, sort of clumsy way. The tile floor was more slippery than he’d anticipated so he had nearly crashed into the room. You poked your head up and gave him a little wave from the bubbles - hair soaked and a touch of foamy stubble on your jaw.

Once your sleepy eyes focused on him properly, you saw that he was butt naked while fiddling with his stereo on the counter.

You leaned on your forearms on the edge of the bath. “I don’t tell you enough how nice your butt is.” You sighed, smiling up at him when he glanced at you.

“I’d say it’s a little better than “nice”, at least “premium goods” status.” Eddie huffed jokingly, now slapping his stereo in an attempt to get the tape deck to stay closed. He was a firm believer in if you smacked technology around a little and showed it who’s boss then it would work. “Babe, you’re objectifying me while I’m trying to set a romantic mood, all for you.” He shot you an exaggerated pinch glare over his shoulder.

In reality, he really liked when you ogled him and made him feel hot. “This is a small bathroom and your ass is right at my eye level. Get over it, dude.” You smirked, sinking back into the warm water.

“-I bet you say that to all the boys,” purred the voice from the stereo. Damn, Eddie knew how to set a weird, but really good mood. Meat Loaf wasn’t exactly his usual music choice, but he knew you loved a good ballad.

“Hey hey! See? A few loving taps and viola, she sings.” Eddie grinned, turning to you with a flourish of his arms, “kinda like you.” He sniggered as you splashed some water at him.

“Hurry up and get “the goods” in the water. I’ll give you a head massage.” You sighed, letting your body sink back into the water.

Eddie laughed again, softly, and dipped his foot in the water - testing the temperature so it wouldn’t burn his balls. He slowly sank down, the warm water being a stark contrast to the chilly trailer outside the bathroom.

“By all means, take your time there.” You chirped, forming a bubble beard while you watched him. Eddie was so pretty in the steamy, honey light. A small sheen of sweat painted his chest, and he couldn’t hold back a giggle when he saw your foamy facial hair.

“Once I’m balls deep, I’ll be all good. Don’t rush me.”

You snorted, “not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Give me like… ten minutes and you might be so lucky, sweetheart.” Eddie winked, finally sitting down fully in the bath with a deep, satisfied groan. The sound shooting down your spine and fuelling the budding ache between your thighs. “I’m a fucking genius for this idea. God.” Another groan faded into a purr.

“You’ve really outdone yourself. Using my work present for your benefit. What a gentleman.” You sniggered, hiding behind the suds when he lightly kicked your leg.

“Let me soak in peace, woman.” He grumbled, trying to hide his sleepy smile and failing.

You watched Eddie quietly and full of adoration. His eyes were closed and his face had relaxed significantly, any harsh lines or fatigue melted away with the steam from the bath. Eddie allowed himself to slide fully into the water, soaking his wild curls and pushing his bangs out of his face. He started working his calloused fingertips into his scalp. You watched, unblinking, as his large brown eyes rolled back into his skull and he sighed.

Eddie had said he needed ten minutes but you weren’t going to be able to wait that long.

You wiped away your soap beard. As much as Eddie adored you being a goof with him, you knew when it was time to get serious. Both of you knew where the night was heading, so you may as well speed things up a little. The cosy air and the melodic cries of Meat Loaf were perfect.

“Eds? C’mere. Said I’d give you a head massage, and I’m a lady of my word.” You stated, giggling as he quickly started to twist himself around, making the porcelain squeak.

Eddie situated himself between your legs and rested his wet hair on your chest. The bastard even started twiddling his thumbs while he waited for you to start, “I’m ready when you are.” He shot you a bright, toothy smile, swaying a little to really drive home his oh-so-innocent intentions. Eddie was always such a tease.

You gathered some of the vanilla and peppermint-scented foam and started lightly massaging Eddie’s scalp. Your blunt fingernails slightly scratched him as an added luxury, but mostly because you wanted to make him feel extra special. Eddie’s hair was such an integral part of him. Not only was it for his own self-expression, but he fucking loved when you played with it and pulled it just enough that a shot of pain coursed through him.

“That good?” You whispered, one of your hands wandering down his chest to caress his spider and demon head tattoos. The spider was your favourite. One time when he had picked up from a party after getting too drunk, you’d named it Edith, and kissed her goodnight. Eddie had damn near melted under you when you did that. You were just too sweet to him sometimes.

“I’d even go as far to say it’s nice.” Eddie breathed. The feeling of you rubbing his hair and scalp was the greatest high he could ever experience.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pretending to be annoyed. “Change your tune and I’ll keep this hand going lower?” You breathed into his ear, your wandering hand now grazing the wispy dark hair on his belly.

“See, I don’t think you’re gonna stop either way.” Eddie groaned. He started nuzzling his head against your tits, leaving a few small pecks between them. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while later.” He sang.

“Aw, aren’t you just my best guy.”

“Would hope that I’m your only guy - oh f-fuck.”

You finally traced your hand down Eddie’s thick cock. He twitched under your touch, your pruned fingertips dancing along the prominent veins on the underside of his shaft. Eddie’s pleased whining and soft panting showed you that he wanted you to wrap a hand around him and drive him crazy. But your goal was lower.

Your warm hand caressed and massaged his balls as he let out a surprised moan. “God. Harder.”

The pressure of your hand increased as you rolled his heavy sack in your hand. “You’ve been saving these for me, haven’t you?” you purred, Eddie having shifted to starting mouthing at your hard nipples. “Neglecting your balls when you're jerking off because they’re all for me, yeah?”

“They need a woman’s touch, what can I say - shit, yeah, don’t stop.” Eddie groaned, almost shouting. Your hand that had been massaging his scalp was now slowly pumping at his cock. All teasing, soft touches - you knew it wasn’t enough for him. Eddie liked to be handled with an intimate roughness that only you could give him.

Eddie’s large hands were moving everywhere. Massaging your legs, squeezing your arms and running up your neck blindly. The distinct warmth and softness of your body were addictive to him. You were the first person to let him touch you everywhere - no grimacing, no catch. Just encouragement and admiration. Said admiration came in the form of a low moan when Eddie’s fingers caught on a piece of your hair and tugged.

“Babe, babe. We gotta stop or I’ll blow my load too fast.” Eddie huffed, pushing himself up and back to his original position across from you. He held out his arms wide, gesturing excitedly for you to come to him.

You really loved how excited he still got when it came to you. In any scenario, he was always happy that it was you.

Eddie grabbed your ass as you straddled him. Reaching up to bring you into a hungry, wet kiss. His mouth was restless. Lightly chapped lips pressed to yours, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, tongue massaging yours just enough to drive you crazy - he always drove you crazy.

The flushed, hard head of Eddie’s cock rubbed against your clit as your hips wiggled in his lap. “Fu-fuck yes.” Eddie groaned, pulling you down on him more. Your warm-up was one of his favourite parts. “You want your cock? You gotta wait, sweetheart. I’ve barely gotten my hands on you yet.”

You whimpered, hips still grinding with more impatience. “But you're all wet and warm.”

“And now I’ve got to get you like that,” Eddie chuckled with a smirk. “Do me a favour. Get some of the bubbles and play with your pretty tits for me?”

“You just wanna see soapy boobs.” You quipped, already gathering large handfuls of foam in your palms. The mint and vanilla scent had weakened, but it was still comforting.

“I do. Now, get to it.”

Eddie had moved one of his rough hands down to your aching cunt. Pinching your clit between two fingers, and rubbing it with his thumb.

God, yes. You could feel yourself becoming slick under Eddie’s touch. Your clit slipped under his calloused thumb as your wet hard nipples rolled between your fingers. Both of you released any and all noises that felt right. The needy moans and heavy pants harmonised with the lapping of the bath water. Eddie loved watching you play with your tits for him, applying just the right amount of grip to the soft mounds to make you whimper and hiss.

Such pretty, sensitive tits were a heaven he wasn’t sure he deserved, so he was going to make sure they were looked after.

“Someone’s having fun,” Eddie chirped, picking up the pace of his massage to your clit. God, he was evil. How were you going to hold a conversation under this level of pleasure?

“Woman’s touch, right?” You moaned and ground harder onto his hand, catching the hot tip of his cock at the entrance of your weepy cunt. Eddie whimpered and his smirk melted into a delirious smile.

The grinding, the moaning and the messy kissing continued for some time. Both of you basked in the intimate little world you had created in the steamy, trailer bathroom. There was nothing but time for relaxation and ecstasy - the night was still young and outside was just so cold, it was too horrible to think about.

Eddie had started to angle his hips and yours so that the head of his swollen cock prodded your hole. When your movements synced up perfectly, his tip slipped into you - providing a delicious tease.

Large hands were now groping and spreading your ass cheeks. The occasional short, sharp slap joined in. “Can I fuck you? Please. I know we got time, but I need it.” Eddie panted, his eyes laser-focused on your soapy tits that were in his eye line. “Promise you won’t be walking for the rest of the night. Fuck, rest of the weekend if you let me.”

Now that was a tempting offer. “If you get to be inside my pussy now, then you won’t be leaving any time soon.” You smirked, playing with his soaking hair and twirling it around your fingers.

Eddie didn’t respond to you. He lifted your hips up, thumbs massaging your love handles and slammed you back down onto his cock. Your gasp fizzled into mewling as Eddie started moving to grind into your sweet spot. He really wasted no time when it came to making you feel incredible.

“Aw, there she is.” He teased, one hand running up your back to tangle in your hair. “You were getting a little mouthy there. But I’m gonna help you turn that brain off, isn’t that right?”

“Mhmm, please.” The sensations coursing through your sweating body were exactly what you needed. Big hands tugging lightly on your wet hair, Eddie’s fat cock fucking into your g-spot and his growling breath tickling your chest. You needed to stop thinking for at least a little while. You needed Eddie.

Eddie needed you - maybe even a bit more than air at that moment. The embrace of your hot, spongey walls always had him reeling. You allowed him to see you in a vulnerable light, and he did the same. It was like a small weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t fully noticed was there.

“This pussy - my pussy. F-fucking god. Lean back for me, I wanna see you, pretty girl.” Eddie had started to work you on his cock, thrusting slowly and so deep into your cunt.

You gripped the rim of the bathtub and leaned back, an amazing tension forming in your thighs. “Want - sh-shit - more, Eds.”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll give you everything, baby.” A thumb started flicking your puffy clit again and Eddie grinned up at you. “Uh-huh? Taking such a big cock so well, like a good girl.” Christ, he was almost too good at speaking absolute filth.

“Can - can you cum in me? Please. Please, oh my fucking god.”

The entire image of you on top of him set his blood on fire. Tousled, wet hair. Soap-dripping tits. Heavy-lidded eyes trained on where he was fucking you down onto his cock. You sparked something almost animalistic in him, and now you wanted him to empty his balls inside your cunt.

Huff. Huff. Groan. Eddie couldn’t find the words to respond to you. So, he fucked you harder, causing desperate pleasure to pulse through both of you. He tugged your head back and began sucking along the column of your throat.

“Gonna fill up my gorgeous girl. God, your pussy’s gonna be so fucking messy.” Eddie was essentially delirious by that point. The only thoughts in his head were fucking you, cumming in you and suggesting that bath sex became a regular thing. The vanilla-scented stuff had you smelling like some fancy dessert, the poor guy was losing his mind.

You wanted to be messy. Eddie was pounding into you so well that your mind was calm and blank. The bathroom could be swimming with sudsy water and you wouldn’t even know.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” you squealed. “Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie. You need it too. Uh-huh?”

“That’s right, babe. Always so smart for me.” His voice sounded far away, but in the best way possible. Eddie had a single goal in his sight and the tightness in his balls felt so fucking amazing.

The way you begged always short-circuited Eddie’s brain. You were so lovely, so amazing. Hearing you say his name in your hoarse, needy tone made his cock twitch violently.

Your cunt clung to his thick cock, trying to milk him dry and chase your own orgasm. Your release washed over you in a pulse of heat and electricity - momentarily making your body go limp from the euphoria. It didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop until Eddie did. His cock was splitting you open roughly as he used your sopping hole to cum inside.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He groaned, his jaw hanging slack. “Can you say my name, babe? Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”

“Eddie - you, Eds.” A fucked out whimper is all you could manage. But it worked just as well, if not better.

Eddie came deep inside your slick cunt with a deep scream and a slurred string of curse words. Panting and water lapping were suddenly the only sounds in the green-tiled room. It was a sticky but not unpleasant atmosphere. You loved it.

You had collapsed onto Eddie’s chest as he ran a weak hand through your hair. “I feel all tingly.” You sighed.

“Like good or bad? Swear my jizz isn’t radioactive or anything.” Eddie snorted, his voice sounding sleepy. Christ, he was almost too warm, but like hell was he moving from his current position.

“I meant good tingly, like romantic tingly. Way to ruin the post-sex mood.” You huffed, flicking one of his nipples until he let out a little shriek.

“Okay, okay, easy there.” Eddie splashed some water up into your face. He was lucky he was so cute. “That was an incredibly romantic start to the night, in my humble opinion.”

You hummed in agreement as you lifted yourself off of Eddie’s softened cock, settling back to straddling his thighs. Bath or not, you were getting your post-sex cuddles.

“Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie.” Eddie whined, mimicking your high-pitched moans as best he could. As much as you hated when he teased you like that, the impression was actually pretty solid. “That’s what you said. That’s love right there.”

“And I was being entirely honest.” You replied. “Bear my horny little soul to you and look where it gets me? Bullied.” The next few seconds moved by quickly. One second, Eddie was fixing you with an eye roll, and the next he was pouring foamy water over your head. “Dick!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll blow dry your hair before round 2.” Eddie grinned, moving close to you and pressing a kiss to your now dripping face.

“I want some of that conditioner stuff you use in your hair too.” Demands would have to be made as a form of repayment after your boyfriend tried to waterboard you. “The one that smells like coconuts.”

“I’ll braid your hair too, how does that sound?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie Munson smut #eddie Munson #smut #fluff #fic #eddie #stranger things #my writing

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barefoothighlander · 11 months

Text

fear of the dark

summary: ghost is teaching you to evade enemies before your little game turns into something darker

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), dub con, light hunter/prey dynamic, unprotected pinv, fingering, creampie, mask stays on, knife play, name calling, outdoor sex, biting, est relationship

“It goes on like this, green light means it’s active, the red means it’s off” He tucks the comm behind your ear, securing it before pulling his hands back. “This button is to talk, you have to wait for a second for the feed to run through but if anything happens, you tell me”

“Got it, green on, press to talk”

“And keep to channel 4”

You huff a breath, “Okay”

“You ready?”

“What do I get if I outrun you”

“A new skill"

“Boo”

“And if you win” You’re voice is quieter,

“You’ll find out” His thumb strokes across your cheek, “I’ll give you a head start, no leaving the property line, use what I’ve taught you and stay out of my sights, if you make it to sunrise you win”

You smirk, “See you at sunrise”

Turning around you march away from him, moving at a rushed pace, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, the ground is dry which means your tracks will be harder to find, moving your way towards the woods you spare a glance behind you, his large frame relaxed against the side of the house, illuminated by the single light outside as his hands cling to his vest his eyes glued to you.

It’s pitch black outside, the moon provided minimal light through the branches of the tree, guiding your path, you know he doesn’t have his night vision but he’s an expert at finding tracks, one of the few skills his father taught him when they’d go hunting.

You’re breathing heavy as you stumble over rocks, walking for what already felt like hours, navigating around the dark trying to cover your tracks. You make sure to stick to dry ground, knowing that if you stepped in any mud he’d notice the footprints and be on you in an instant.

You reach a small clearing in the woods, deciding it was as good a place as any to take a small rest, you’re not sure how much of a head start he gave you but you know you can’t sit for long. It’s strangely quiet, only a few noises of squirrels running through trees fills the air, there’s no wind or birds, all you can hear is the sound of your own heart, thudding in your ears.

You glimpse at your watch, it’s only midnight, the sun wouldn’t be up for another six hours and you had a lot of ground to cover. Pushing yourself from your position you continue through the woods, avoiding patches of leaves and sticks that could snap as you walk.

Your legs are aching by the time you reach a small stream, trying to navigate your position, doing your best to recall where the stream started. It’s tempting to just jump in, the humid air of summer doing little to cool your sweat beaded skin, the effort of moving up and down hills taking its toll on your muscles.

Fuck it.

If anything it’ll be harder for him to find you in the stream, pulling your boots off and stringing them to your backpack you step in, the coke water forming goosebumps on your skin as you wiggle your toes through the stream. You bend down to grab a hand-full, splashing it against your warm cheeks in an effort to cool down, letting it trickle down your neck as it wets the collar of your shirt.

“Oi, you there?”

His voice rings through your comm, you move to respond but stop yourself, if you answered now he’d know exactly where you were, the noise from the water would echo through your mic, directly into his earpiece.

You jump out of the stream quickly, moving a few paces away so that it was out of earshot before pressing your finger to the button.

"You miss me already?"

“Just checking in"

"Sure"

“Don’t be a brat”

“What are you gonna do about it” You tease through the comms

“Wanna find out?” His voice is deeper

Your hair suddenly stands on end,

He waits a beat, “You need to focus”

“I am”

“What if I was an enemy”

“What are you gonna do, you can’t even find me”

He doesn’t respond.

“Simon?"

The line drops and so does your heart, realizing that he could be directly behind you a sense of panic sets in, you jump back into the stream, following its flow as you rush through the water, your feet splashing it onto your clothes as you make your way through, praying it would cover your tracks.

You’re on edge, the silence of the forest now gone as every twig that snaps grabs your attention, your head on a swivel as you reach a small pond. Stepping out of the water and pulling your boots back on, you squint your eyes around trying to catch a glimpse of him, your breath catching in your throat everytime a branch shifted.

You move further into the woods, checking your watch again 1:36 how had it only been an hour and a half, it felt like forever since you stepped into the trees, the soothing chill of the water now gone, your legs ached from your efforts.

“Are your pants soaked?” His voice breaks your thoughts,

“What?”

“Water was a nice touch”

The line drops again, he’s at the top of the stream which gives you a little bit to gain some distance, tugging your bag around your shoulders you hike further.

Everything starts to look the same, all the trees are reminiscent of each other, you’ll admit you’re lost, but not to him, he’d accuse you of giving up and you didn’t want that. You try your best to navigate your direction, trying to use the stars as some sort of guide but it’s useless, the clouds in the sky block half your view and you can’t remember anything about astronomy anyway, your brain too clouded by the pain in your body.

Your breath hitches at the noise of a branch snapping, your heartbeat now in your ears, you didn't factor in how scary the woods are at night, every sense heightened in the dark.

"Simon?"

You call through your comms but there's no answer, it's dead air, your nerves on fire now, your we’re alone completely, you really didn’t think this through, didn’t stop to consider what would happen if the comms went dead.

You see a small light to your right, squinting your eyes to figure out what it’s from, hoping it was a street light of some sort you move toward it, moving past trees and fallen branches to get to it.

You’re huffing for air as you approach it, your eyes almost shut as it nears, blinding you, you shield your face with a hand,

“What’d I tell you about strange lights”

Your heart drops as you hear him, the crunching of leaves under his boots as he moves near you. You stumble back from him, head turning to find some sort of escape route,

“What’d I tell you love”

you swivel your head from his form to behind you, “They’re deceiving”. In a burst of adrenaline you take off, running away from him as he fades from view, it’s unnerving the way he just walks, he’s not chasing you, it’s like he knows where you’re going.

You’re feet carry you faster than you can think, twisting around trees and over hills, the taste of metal in your mouth as your palm runs over your stomach, a cramp settling into the muscle. You rest against a large oak, closing your eyes and catching your breath, your skin on fire as you try to focus on the sounds around you.

You wait a moment, bracing yourself before turning your body to move, gasping as you feel a hand tug you back.

“Gotcha”

You’re gasping for air as he pins you against the tree, his hands clamped around your arms, keeping you from fighting back.

“Okay, you win, let’s go home”

“Not without my prize”

“Simon, please” Your body is weak against his, no energy left in your muscles as he invaded your space, his chest pressing against yours, the fabric of his vest digging into your flesh.

“You didn’t listen”

“What?” Your brain is a fog

“You did nearly everything wrong, I could’ve had you the minute you stepped into the woods”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize, you’ll learn”

Your hooded eyes plead with him, begging to go home, to rest but finding no sympathy, he leans his face towards yours, his chin next to your neck.

“I think you wanted to get caught, wanted to see what would happen”

His words click in your head, the heat from your skin suddenly transferring to your core, your arms straining against his grip as you let out a small whimper.

“That’s it, isn’t it, you wanted be to find you, to teach you a proper lesson”

He squeezes your arms tighter when you don’t respond, his eyes moving to stare into yours, his gaze is dark something darker behind it.

“That’s alright love, I’ll give you what you want, but you have to listen”

You squeeze your thighs, trying to rid yourself of the ache between them as his hand trails down your side. He removes it for a minute, your stomach flinching as you feel the press of cold metal against it, it forms goosebumps on your skin, he trails it toward your breasts, teasing it through the valley of them before placing it under the hem of your shirt, splitting the fabric up the middle.

The cold air hits your skin causing your nipples to harden as he traces the blade over your skin, pressing it flat against the raised buds.

“You look good like this, all ready for me to use”

Your chest maintains a steady rise and fall, “Si-“

“Not this time love”

Your face falls as you watch his face, the shell of a skull staring back at you, “Ghost, please”

He pays no attention to your words, running his knife along your skin before settling it above the hem of your pants, wriggling your hips to sooth your arousal.

“Needy little thing aren’t you”

He removes his hands from you, giving you an out but you stand in front of him, weak fingers working to undo your pants, he watches as you stumble to step out of them, leaving you in your underwear, the chill outside doing little to settle your nerves.

“Such a perfect little thing” He runs a gloves hand over your breasts, humming as you let out a sigh. Your body freezes as his knife makes contact with your skin again, trailing it towards your core before using it to cut your panties, letting the fabric drop.

He flips the blade, teasing your thighs with the handle of it before he runs it through your folds, biting back a gasp, there was no way to hide your arousal now.

He pulls his knife into view, your slick coating the handle, glistening in front of your face “You’re fucking soaked, you little slut”

“Open your mouth”

You do as he says, flattening your tongue and pushing it out as his hand cups your jaw, holding it open. He runs the handle across the muscle, the taste of yourself dancing over your taste buds as he pushes it slowly into your mouth, stifling a chuckle as you gag around the handle. He watches the string of spit that forms between you and the weapon as he retracts it from your mouth, his eyes glancing toward your core, your unsteady legs holding you up as he brings the weapon towards it.

“Do you think you deserve my cock?”

“Yes, please Ghost”

He teases the handle between your folds, holding it against your weeping core, forcing you to clench around nothing.

Your head falls forward as he pushes it into you, the rough material running along your walls as he pumps it into you. Your hand reaches to brace on his shoulder, holding yourself up before his free hand connects with your throat, pushing you back against the tree. Your body is on display for him, his head looking down to where your cunt is swallowing his blade, groaning at the sight of your slick leaking from your core.

“Greedy little slut, you’d take anything wouldn’t you”

You shake your head, your voice strained by his grip on your neck,

“You will, you’ll take everything I give you”

He thrusts the handle into you faster, tightening his hand as you start to grind yourself down on it,

“Need more, please”

“You wanna cum on my knife you fucking slag”

“Please” You open your eyes at him, your face flush as you silently beg, he releases your throat, allowing you a breath as his gloved hand meets your clit, you arch your back at the contact, the rough circles providing enough stimulation that you feel your knees weaken.

“Do it, cum for me”

His fingers rub along your bud and you come undone, your fingers digging into his vest as you cum with a sob, your body falling forward against him as his fingers work you through your high. He feels you finish, pulling his knife from you, listening to you whimper from the loss of contact as he throws it to the dirt.

His arms lock under your thighs, hoisting your weak from against him and pressing your back against the tree, he grinds his clothed erection against your cunt, your core soaking his pants as your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna take it, all of it”

Your pussy clench’s at the thought, your ears failing to hear hun unzip his pants, the tip of his cock reading through your folds, smearing your slick around your thighs as he lines himself up.

You bury your head in his neck as he pushes in, the stretch of him burning your walls as he stuffs his cock inside. His hands grip your waist, moving you further down his length until his tip is buried in your cervix, your fingers digging into his back as you whimper around him.

“That’s it, gonna fill this tiny cunt”

He holds you against the tree, keeping you up as his hips pull back, his cock dragging against your walls before he thrusts it back in, his balls slap against your ass as he pounds his cock into you, forcing you to take every inch.

“Fuck, can practically see myself in you”

He holds you with one arm while the other presses firmly to your stomach,

“Gonna split you on my fat fucking cock, you’d like that huh?”

His hand makes contact with the side of your ass when you don’t respond,

“I said you’d like that, wouldn’t you”

“Yes!” You scream, the heartbeat in your ears overpowering any other noise in the area as he moulds you to his cock.

“Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum, let you walk around with my seed in your cunt, dirty fucking whore”

He buried himself deeper with every thrust, pulling almost all the way out only to force his length back in, the weight behind his thrust bouncing you up and down, his eyes watching the way your breasts jump with every pump of his cock.

His fingers trail to your sensitive clit, pinching the bud, you let out a yelp, bearing your teeth into the base of his neck as he grunts, you mark his flesh as his grip on you gets tighter, sure to leave bruises in their wake.

Tears well in the corners of your eyes as you drop your cheek to his shoulder, the saliva in your moth dripping to wet his collar as he works another orgasm from you.

“Cum on my cock, want you to soak me, feel you squeeze me with your tight little cunt”

The bark of the tree scrapes against your bare skin, forcing you to arch into him, his cock driving deeper into you as you sob around him, his fingers circling and flicking over your clit, the band inside you stretching as your body melts.

You clench down on him, greedily taking every inch as you cum, your slick dripping from your core to wet his cock, your cum coating the opening of his pants as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, the friction from his pubic hair adding another layer as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re reduced to whimpers as he takes over all your senses, all you can hear, feel, see is him, the way his cock has you full, his grunts filling your ears as your gaze is stuck on him.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, such a perfect little slut”

You cling to him with weak limbs as his knuckles go white from his gold on you, his arms rising you up and down to meet his thrusts as he chases his high,

“That’s it, fuck that’s it, taking me so well”

He quickens his pace, fucking you ruthlessly, your aching core sucking him in as he pushes his length into you, his tip buried deep inside your walls as he holds you against his chest. Your lower stomach warms with the feeling of him spilling inside you, flooding your core as you sigh, your pussy fluttering as he pulls from you, watching his seed leak from your cunt before pushing it back in with two fingers, making sure it all stays in.

He holds you for a moment, letting you regain your composure before gently letting you down, his hand on your waist holding you steady as he removes his jacket, wrapping it around your naked form providing some sort of warmth.

You watch him with heavy lids, your body swaying at you try to stay upright, his stare is softer now as he bends down, his arms snaking under your legs to pick you up, holding you against his chest.

“Did so well love” He presses his forehead to yours, the heat of his body warming your cold limbs, “Let’s go home”.

He maneuvers around carefully, holding you steady as he moves around the trees, his gaze shifting to you every minute to make sure you were okay. He makes it out of the woods in minutes, the warm light of the windows coming into view as your body grows tired.

He carrie’s you into the house, slowly making his way towards the bathroom, setting you down for a moment so he can turn the tap on the bath on, he kneels in front of you, his hands tugging his mask off so you can see him, giving him a weak smile as he gently removes your remaining clothes.

He helps you to stand, walking towards the warm bath, feeling your muscles sooth as you step in, the water washing over your skin. He strips his own clothes, feeling the water rise as he sits behind you, his legs bent beside your frame as you lean back against his chest.

He runs a gentle cloth over your skin, cleaning up any dirt and grime that was on it, carefully cleaning around your core before his arms settle around your stomach, holding you close.

He rests his lips against the crown of your head as you focus on the sound of his breaths, steady behind you, lulling you to sleep as his thumbs trace over your skin.

#tw: dubcon #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader

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celtic-crossbow · 12 days

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 25

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Poorly written smut; Pregnancy symptoms; Pregnancy exams; Mild angst

A/N: I hope others laugh at this as hard as I did while writing it. Even if you don't, it's okay. I was greatly amused and I'm not ashamed.

Another cold night, but at least the house was on a hill and surrounded by trees on most sides; a large structure with a gated driveway. The fire was roaring and everyone was bedding down for the night in the same room since the last few times of sleeping in different rooms or on different levels had proven problematic when quick escape was needed. Carol chose to lay closer to the fireplace so you and Daryl could have the bedroll to yourselves—when you actually chose to go to bed.

“Has anyone seen Daryl or Y/N?” Lori asked after laying an extra blanket on your bedroll.

“She probably had to pee again.” Carl giggled from his sleeping bag.

“Do you need something, Lori?” Carol sat up, hugging herself from the cool air when her blanket fell a little. Carol knew exactly where the two of you were and she would make sure you were left alone there.

You had gone from touch me not straight into don’t stop touching me. While Daryl felt pride in the fact that you only had eyes for him, he may or may not have been beginning to wonder if you could possibly break his dick. It had been nearly three straight days of a constant desire for him. That day alone, you had begged him to take you straight into the upstairs bathroom of the huge house and stuff you with three fingers, fucking two orgasms from you within moments. The two of you had filed back in with everyone else before your absence was even noticed.

Everything had barely been brought from the vehicles before you were saying you needed to pee, tapping one finger against the middle of Daryl’s palm as you took his hand. A clear signal. Five minutes later, you were bouncing on his cock (with a little help) while he was sprawled out by a tree.

And now, Daryl was panting harshly, not even bothering to tuck himself away before or after he slid down the wall and landed on his ass. You were still bent over the sink, thighs a sticky mess, his spend leaking from your deliciously abused cunt. Grabbing your panties, leggings, and sweats to drag them up over your hips was almost impossible. Almost. You dared not ask your poor partner.

You had been insatiable for him, needing his hands on you constantly. You seemed to be in a perpetual state of arousal, and god did he feel good. He had not complained a single time, even when it was clear he was tired or worried about something else. He took care of you first and foremost. And well, he was getting laid, so it wasn’t like he got nothing out of the deal. But as you turned to face him in that very moment, he just looked wrecked. Like if he tried to satisfy your urges one more time, he might literally die. With a fond smile, you stepped toward his outstretched legs and tapped the sole of his boot with the toe of your own.

“Get up.” The look he gave you from beneath his lashes wasn’t angry. Far from it. It was reluctant and exhausted but he began to lever himself upright without a word, one corner of his mouth drawing upward for a brief moment when he was standing before you, seemingly awaiting your command. God, you had to admit that it was causing some seriously hard to ignore feelings in an area that had many times already been thoroughly fucked. You kept your eyes on his even as his pretty blues followed your hands toward his cock. He made no move to pull away or complain but you could have sworn you saw his entire body melt when you began to gingerly tuck him away. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.” You planted a kiss on his cheek. After everything he’d done for and to you that day, it was the gratitude that made him blush. You couldn’t have stopped the giggle if you tried. “Let’s go get some sleep, okay?”

“Ya good, then?” His hand came to rest on your hip, eyes questioning.

“I’m better than good, Daryl. You,on the other hand, are about to fall asleep standing.” The archer didn’t argue. He must have known he was swaying on his feet. Driving and lugging around supplies and taking care of you, he had to be bone-weary. Regardless of your discomfort, the ache already returning in full force, you wanted him to rest. He was trying so hard to take better care of himself at your request—eating full meals, sleeping a little more, wearing more clothing when hunting so he stayed warm—that you didn’t want to be the cause of fucking up all you had worked so hard to instill in him. “Come on, sleep time for you.”

He simply nodded and let himself be led from the room with quite the yawn. It was all eyes on you the moment the two of you stepped foot inside the large den, the warmth of the fire overwhelming any anxiety the stares could have even remotely caused. Arousal was quickly dampened by the lure of impending sleep and warmth. Dary was not taking watch, set to hunt the next morning, so you’d have him to yourself all night.

He let you under the blankets first, assisting you down until you were situated on your side. When he climbed in after you, he took his usual position and angled himself so that your belly could rest on his stomach and hip while you could curl right into his chest. As wound up as you had been only moments before, your body was now succumbing to the siren call of sleep. You just needed to take care of one more thing.

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?” Even that simple acknowledgement was somehow slurred. You had really worn him out.

“Sleep late and then go hunting, okay?” You wondered how hard you’d need to fight him. He gave in on a great many things as the pregnancy progressed and you became more and more uncomfortable, but hunting was his time to recharge. You didn’t want to take that away from him, but you were also afraid of him spiraling back into bad habits.

“Okay.” He breathed, sounding more than half asleep. You blinked against his chest. So, you just needed to fuck him senseless to get him to agree to important things. Noted.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“I love you.”

He was already softly snoring, his warm breath disturbing your hair.

When you awoke, the sun’s warmth could not compare to the heat of the flames from the night before, but it was still welcome. It meant you had survived into another day. The fact that you were still firmly pressed against Daryl was an absolute bonus. It was well into the morning and he was still absolutely sound asleep. You weren’t worried that he was sick, even if the others most likely had their concerns. They were all accustomed to greeting him when they stepped outside to start the day or finding him completely absent on a hunt. You knew exactly why he slept late.

You felt him inhale deeply and begin to stir, grumbling something you didn’t understand. Pulling away to stretch, you felt a tug on your skin, drawing your attention to your chest, where your shirt had pulled from your flesh but was still stuck to Daryl’s button-up. “What the fuck?” The mortified look on the archer’s face said that he was thinking the same thing you were. You didn’t remember cum getting on your shirt or his, but you weren’t exactly thinking straight either. “Where’s your bag?”

Daryl jerked his chin toward the area just behind you. The man may have opened up around you and Carol but if anyone else saw this, even if they didn’t choose to laugh or tease—which was unlikely—you feared that Daryl would shut down and pull away from you.

“And mine?” You asked, biting your lip.

He cleared his throat, the sound stuttering. “S’there too.” His back was to everyone but he’d know who was there. He had a way of identifying people through breath and footfall that was truly impressive. You, on the other hand, had to crane your neck to scope out the area. Carol was putting away some leftovers the best way she could. Lori was sitting with Carl, a math book on the kid’s lap. Glenn was laughing with Maggie in the doorway. Too many people. Daryl would likely run away, never to be seen again.

“Okay, first thing’s first.” You pried the articles of clothing apart, wincing at the nearly imperceptible sound that was likely heard by no one but sounded like a chainsaw to your ears. “I’m gonna go under the blankets so you can reach my bag for a different sweater. May as well grab your shirt while you’re there.”

“Gonna think you’re suckin’ my—”

“Well, you have two choices.” You whispered. “We can get up, grab our clothes to go change, and hope for the best. But we will have to walk past Glenn.” You peered around Daryl’s head to find Glenn and Maggie exactly where they had been, only T-Dog had joined them. “Or we can try and change under these blankets. I’ll giggle and mention Thumper, and they won’t think anything of it.”

“Right.” Dary didn’t seem convinced but kept the blankets high over both of you while he reached across your head, snagging both of your bags by the small strap at the top. He dragged them over and riffled through them, swallowing convulsively while pulling out shirts for each of you. “Got ‘em.”

“Okay, this might be a little tricky, but it’s doable.”

It was indeed tricky, but it was also indeed doable. The blankets were over your heads as you changed, with your originally planned giggles easily shifting into real ones. Thumper had joined the party and seemed to be aiming for their dad’s crotch each time your bodies touched. You could have sworn you heard a huff of a laugh from Daryl a couple of times as well. With a chuckle of hold still, you made sure the buttons of your partner’s shirt were even and patted his chest.

“All jizz free.” You whispered with a nod, feeling his fingers brush your skin while he pulled your pale blue, long sleeved t-shirt down to cover your belly.

“Gross.”

“You say that like it’s been in your mouth before.” The look on his face had you laughing out loud and Daryl throwing back the blankets before the others could assume anything more was happening. The archer clambered off the bedroll and stretched, then held out a hand to you. You swatted it away. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit. My back hurts.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “M’goin’ huntin’. Ya stay close to ev’ryone else, ya hear?”

“I will. I promise.” When you met his eyes, they were full of such softness that you could almost feel it on your skin. He was taking each promise you made to heart and trusting you to keep them. And you would, even if staying inside made your skin crawl sometimes. Hell, being outside made your skin crawl. With the hormones taking over, you were fighting a losing battle, so you might as well choose the side that kept you and Thumper safe.

“Alright then. Be back ‘fore dark.” Daryl grabbed his crossbow from against the nearest wall, brushing a hand over the top of your head before it latched onto the top of his bag to hoist it off the floor, his gaze still meeting yours. “Promise.”

So this was a thing now. Promises between you. It both terrified you and filled your heart to the point of nearly bursting. You gave him a nod whilst fighting back the tears you knew would come the moment he was out of sight. He didn’t need to worry that he’d done something wrong. And he would because Daryl was still learning how to process anything that didn’t hurt. He was definitely still working on his social skills if his bark of what’re ya lookin’ at toward Glenn was anything to go by. Both he and Maggie looked at you with wide eyes but you just waved it off.

“Ignore him. He doesn’t know how to people. You know that.”

“Well, he sure knows how to Y/N.” Maggie chided, smiling as she sat down next to you. You chuckled nervously, struggling to sit up so you could shove the dirty clothing into your bag.

“Shush. We just get each other and it was a long road to get to this point. Plus, I think he likes Thumper just a little.” The baby was active, already missing Daryl’s presence which would never cease to amaze you. “Who’s doing laundry today? I’d like to help.”

Maggie was already shaking her head before you could finish speaking. “Daddy needs to check you out. You’re almost 36 weeks, Y/N. You could go into labor anytime. Ask him what you can do and what you can’t and then we’ll worry about laundry.” You made a whining noise in the back of your throat and almost plopped back down on the bedroll but thought better of it at the last minute. It took so much effort to sit back up.

“Fine. Can he come now?” You sighed.

Maggie gave you a comforting smile and squeezed your shoulder. “Sure. Let me go get him.”

You nodded with a tight-lipped smile. She was absolutely right. Thumper’s arrival was growing closer and closer by the day; the hour even. And you were scared. What if something went wrong? You’d seen in the movies that the baby could get stuck. The cord could be wrapped around their little neck. Your pelvic structure could prohibit a natural birth and you would need a cesarean section. Were there even supplies for that? What about sedation or local anesthetic? What if Daryl decided then that it was all too much and ran? You couldn’t do any of it without him, you knew that now.

“Easy, young lady.” Hershel soothed, already having knelt beside you at some point. “You’re white as a sheet and hyperventilating.”

“S–sorry. I’m okay.” You stammered, leaning back on your hands so he would have access to your belly. “Just— I’m scared shitless, Hershel.” As per usual, his steady hands hovered until you nodded your permission for him to roll up your shirt. The moment the cool air hit your skin, there was movement below it, a hand or foot pushing up hard enough that you could actually see it.

“Well, they’re definitely active.” The old man chuckled. “Let’s see if we can check the heartbeat around all that wiggling.” You laughed but it was real, muffled by the fear welling up in your chest. “Well, the heartbeat is great. I need to do an examination, both external and internal. I will explain everything before proceeding. Would you be alright with that? We can go in the downstairs bedroom with Maggie or Beth if you would be more comfortable.”

Maggie was already leaning in the doorway with Glenn, giving you a nod that she was fine with being present. “Yeah, okay.” You started trying to get up on your own but that proved to be futile. Before you could even ask, Glenn was holding out both hands. “Thank you.” You whispered. This was all so personal and it felt like you shouldn’t be going through any of it alone. “Has—did Daryl leave already?”

“He may still be outside. Rick grabbed him for something. I’ll go check.” The words came out so fast that you barely caught them before Glenn was gone and Maggie was helping you lie down.

“I mean, can this wait if he isn't here? I don’t—” The tears came before you had any means of stopping them. You couldn’t sit back up without assistance so you just pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and sobbed, chest heaving and body trembling. You wanted Daryl, after trying so hard to prove you could handle things without him. You needed him.

“The hell’d ya do to ‘er?!”

You had never been so relieved to hear that irritated tone. Gasping for air, you reached blindly for him, his hands wrapping around your forearms to pull you up and against his chest.

“Nothing, son. We were going to do an exam to check the baby.” You opened your eyes to see Hershel standing several feet back with his hands up, palms out. Maggie wasn’t glaring but she looked serious, ready to defend her father. “It would be invasive and she was frightened. We wouldn’t have done anything without her permission.”

“I just—wanted you—I wanted you here.” You hiccupped, gripping his shirt tighter. There was a jerk of his body and then the sound of the door closing. You were alone with him.

“M’here.” He didn’t move other than to pull you in tighter, the hold would have been uncomfortable any other time but it was exactly what you needed at that moment. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“He—he needed to do something inside. It wasn’t that—I didn't think he was gonna hurt me and Maggie was here, but it just felt like something you should be here for too. Like a huge event in all this.” You sniffled, wiggling a hand free after a bit of struggle so that you could wipe your face on your sleeve. “I’m sorry, I know you wanted to hunt.”

“Nuh uh. Wanna be here more. The fuck he need to go inside for?” Now he sounded more than irritated, as if Hershel was trying to take advantage of you in some way.

“There’s gonna be a lot of that, I think. I mean, if everything goes well, the baby’s coming out of my vagina, so I guess he needs to be all up in there to make sure it’s ready or something? Doesn’t it mention this in one of your books?” You pushed against his chest, but he hesitated in letting go. Finally, he dropped his arms but kept a hand on the top of your stomach. Thumper’s movements slowed to flutters.

“Ain’t had much time for readin’, Sunshine.”

You were in the middle of rubbing your eyes when you slid them to the side, your nose scrunching and mouth tilting into a smile. “Sunshine?”

“S’that or ‘pain in my ass’. I ain’t picky.” He huffed, picking at a thread on his tattered button-up.

“I’ll take Sunshine, thanks. You’re adorable, Daryl Dixon.”

“Ugh, don’t get sappy.” He curled his lip, pulling away when you reached for his face.

“You already took it way past sappy, sir.” When he kept that small distance, you grabbed his collar and tugged him forward to press a kiss to his mouth. He reciprocated without hesitance, a small reassurance you reveled in when it came to your relationship. “Thank you for not running.”

“Ain’t a pussy. Told ya from the get-go that we’d handle it.” His forehead was against yours, the tip of his nose nuzzling your own. “Called ya Sunshine back then too.”

“That, you did.” You recalled the memory fondly. God, he was such an asshole back then. Still was in some ways but he was yours. You distantly wondered if he always had been. “Just needed a little help bringing out the inner romantic.”

“Don’t push it. Don’t got a romantic bone in my body.”

You hummed, done with teasing him for the moment. “I guess we should let Hershel do what he needs to and get it over with.” You bit your lip, sliding it back and forth between your teeth. “Will you stay?”

“Course.” His knuckles gently grazed your jaw and then he was up and opening the door, jerking his head toward you to invite them back inside. “Don’t make ‘er cry again.” He warned, taking his spot beside you and helping you lie back.

Hershel only smiled. “I’ll try my best, son.” Maggie wasn’t there but came in, carrying a bowl of water and a cloth, before the old man could do anything. “There’s a couple of things I need to examine. First, I’ll do an external examination. I’m going to palpate your abdomen, feel the position of the baby. At this stage in the pregnancy, we want to ensure the baby is turning into a head down position. They should come out head first, not feet. Is it alright for me to continue?”

You nodded quickly. With Daryl there, the anxiety was held at bay. The man formed a physical wall between you and the fear that wanted to suffocate you, whether he knew it or not. He was watching intensely as your shirt was lifted, the veterinarian’s hands moving with a knowledge you were surprised to find he possessed given he had only dealt with animals. He was likely reading just as Daryl had, probably more.

You winced when it seemed he was squeezing around the baby’s form, though the touch was gentle, feeling Daryl tense beside you. Your hand found his immediately and he settled.

“Ev’rything good, doc?” The archer’s voice was just shy of a snap. He muttered an apology when you squeezed his fingers.

“It seems the baby has mostly turned to the correct position. Have you felt any increase in pelvic pressure or need to urinate?”

“She’s been pissin’ like a racehorse for weeks.” Daryl huffed, earning an elbow to the ribs.

“No more than usual.” You clarified. Hershel nodded.

“It’s unlikely that the baby has dropped then. I have limited experience with human patients but I have had wives that gave me children. When they dropped, it was described to me as a sudden weight deeper in the pelvis. They could breathe easier and felt hungrier, as there was more room in the upper abdomen. The need to urinate increased even more than it already had throughout the pregnancy.” You were nodding, Daryl was squinting, soaking it all in and filing it away. “Just let me know when you feel those changes, okay?”

“Okay.” You answered quietly, this time feeling Daryl squeezing your fingers.

“This next part will be invasive, and I’m sorry for that. I need to check your cervix, see if it’s softening or dilating.” When Daryl didn’t comment, you were sure those were terms he had read. You vaguely knew what they meant from the movies you had seen. “I can have Maggie remove your—”

“I got it.” Daryl interjected, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles before releasing your hand. You watched him move, biting your lip when he pressed one knee between your feet and reached to grab the waistband of your layers, bringing all three down in motion. You had to think of anything else to keep Hershel from seeing what Daryl had the ability to do to you. Placing your clothes by your feet, the bowman cleared his throat. “Make it quick.”

Hershel smiled and shook his head while washing his hands with the soap and water Maggie had brought but he said nothing about Daryl’s protectiveness. Perhaps he understood how fragile the archer’s ability to handle his emotions truly was, and with that knowledge, he saw no reason to put further strain on the young man.

“I’m going to begin the pelvic exam now. It might be a little uncomfortable.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes with a smile when Daryl’s arm wiggled beneath you to wrap around your shoulders. Hershel was right, it truly was uncomfortable. It wasn’t at all like what you had imagined, which to be quite honest, you thought it would be more like being fingered by Daryl. This was in no way pleasurable. First of all, it was Hershel. Secondly, there was pushing down just below the baby while at the same time, moving two fingers. It wasn't just uncomfortable. It was really uncomfortable. At one point, you whimpered ow and had to grab Daryl’s forearm to keep him from lashing out.

Finally, it was over. Hershel was washing his hands again. “The cervix is softening, which is exactly what we want at this stage according to my reading. You’re not dilated, which is also what we’d like right now. That could begin to change in a few days, and that would be okay. There’s no way of really knowing exactly how far along you are but based on what I know of you, and keeping up with the calendar the best I could, you are right at 36 weeks.” You nodded, smiling softly as Daryl reached forward to push your knee down, urging you to close your legs even while he never looked away from the old man.

“That’s good, right?” You asked, struggling to sit up until Daryl looped an arm behind you again and easily got you there.

“That’s wonderful. It’s my opinion, which isn’t the best mind you, that you could safely have this baby anytime now.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, watching all the color drain from Daryl’s face beside you. “Daryl?”

“You alright, son?” Hershel’s expression showed concern but his eyes were laughing. He knew the look on Daryl’s face and he knew it well. “It’s okay to be nervous. You’re a first time father. It will be—”

“G’on, old man. M’fine.”

You chuckled. “Thank you, Hershel. I feel a lot—” Moving to sit up straighter, you looked down when you felt cold against your skin. Two quarter-sized wet patches were clear on your pale blue shirt, just over your nipples. “What the hell?” Even Maggie’s eyebrows were raised. Daryl just looked as puzzled as you did.

“That’s colostrum.” The old vet answered as if you knew what the fuck that meant. “It’s the first thing your breasts produce to feed the baby when it’s born, before the actual milk comes in. This is a good sign that your body is getting ready.”

“Like—soon?” You gulped.

“It doesn’t have an effect on the timeline, one way or another. It just means your body knows what it’s doing. You may want to ask for some breast pads on the next run or just fold some cloth for your bra.”

“Wait—so that wasn’t cum?” It was out of your mouth before you had processed a single word of it. Hershel’s brow furrowed, Maggie doubled over laughing, and poor Daryl was three seconds from jumping out the window. “I’m just—oh god, just leave us to die in here, thanks.” You could still hear Maggie laughing after the door closed but luckily she had nodded in reaction to your pleading look to keep it to herself. When you looked at him, Daryl's elbows were on his knees and his face was in his hands. You could see the red flush traveling all the way to his ears. “It wasn’t jizz. Yay?”

“Just—stop talkin’.”

“I love you.”

“So ya keep sayin’.”

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #pregnant!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon twd #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n

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genshin-impact-unofficial · 5 months

Text

🌦Confessions gone wrong...

Genshin men and how they fuck up their confessions to you.

Ft. Bennett, Venti, Xingqiu, Xiao, Itto, and Wanderer

Tags: Fem!Reader, Long-Hair!Reader(Xingqiu), crushes, pining, fluff, pg, bad things happen to good people. Note: This thread is mostly humor. I just really wanted to bully some characters. No beta. Pay no mind to me trying to edit my mistakes after this has been posted. (Repost!)

Bennett

Fatal Flaw: Honestly does nothing wrong, is just an unlucky dude.

There’s too many instances to count. The poor boy has really been trying to tell you his feelings for MONTHS.

In his excitement he wanted to be flashy and ask you out somewhere cool, like by the big tree in Windrise. The weather thankfully allowed it, but right as he was about to take your hand and confess, a swarm of crystal flies began swarming him. You didn’t know they could be so aggressive.

A restaurant! He could treat you to a meal and tell you there! When the two of you arrived at Good Hunter, it was unfortunately closed early for the day. Apparently all of the meat had suddenly gone bad…

You get the gist.... he’s been in this constant confession limbo for a while now. The more he wants it the worse it goes.

Bennett finally decided he didn’t need the bells and whistles. He cared about you a lot and he was going to confess to you if it was the last thing he did. And it damn well might be. With a new found determination, he ran out to do just that.

“Y/N!” Bennett called out when he spotted you by the Adventure’s Guild. He rushed to you, paying special attention to every stair step to keep from tripping. You turned around and smiled too sweetly when you caught sight of him. It made the boy’s heart thump in his chest. Were it not for his sudden tunnel vision, he may have noticed that cat running past him and not trip down the remaining flight of stairs.

The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself being carried up the familiar route to the cathedral. The adventurer’s face flushed bright red when he realized you were the one carrying him piggyback. It was embarrassing..... but it shamefully wasn’t the first time. Bennett sighed in defeat and simply leaned into your back. When felt his shift in weight, you glanced back to smile at him. You giggled at his clumsiness and it was like music to the boy’s ears. You told him how glad you were that he already regained consciousness this time.

The two of you began joke around like usual and talked the rest of the way there. Bennett took the small victories.

Venti

Fatal Flaw: Tries to impress you too hard.

He knew exactly where he was going to sing his love ballad about you. The sound of the wind as it blew off the hills of starsnatch cliff would be the perfect accompaniment. Maybe it would need some encouragement, but it was nothing he couldn’t accomplish.

Venti wanted the wine to be just right for the occasion too. You deserved nothing but the best. And how else would he be able to judge the quality.... if not just a teeny tiny taste test? He had to be thorough about this choice after all.

The bard usually had enough self control to limit himself to a glass or two, but he felt his nerves get to him a tad. Venti had the confidence that he could show you a beautiful night, but in the end it was your choice whether to accept his heartfelt gesture. The archon respected your freedom above all else.

They sure don’t call it liquid courage for nothing! Venti was brimming with confidence when he brought you to a picnic under a tree, overlooking the cecilias in full bloom. You were visibly in awe, and your reactions quickly inflated the bard’s ego to dangerous heights. “If you think that’s beautiful, watch this.”

A gust of wind flowed over the field, sweeping up all the fallen petals to dance in the air. It was unreal, magical, magnificent, splendid, it was…… buzzing? A thud fell between the two of you and effectively ended the romantic moment. It was a wasps nest.

“ABANDON SHIP!” Venti cried out, grabbing your hand and booking it downhill.

Xingqiu

Fatal Flaw: Hubris.

He really doesn’t like to toot his own horn. Maybe once in a while when it’s warranted. But he really out did himself. Xingqiu read plenty of books regarding the art of courting, and they guided the way to what was sure to be the most romantic confession possible.

The brilliance was in the simplicity of the plan. First he would begin with a gift. The two of you always met at the book store on your off-days. When he sees you wear your long hair in your usual up-do, he would offer the beautiful hair ornament he acquired. Maybe in your excitement, you would even allow him to affix it for you.

The boy’s stomach dropped when he saw you enter the bookstore. He stared while you looked around for him, turning your head left and right in an adorable manner. The movement accentuated your newest feature... a hair cut. “Y/N, over here.” Xingqiu called to you, his confidence was already wavering a little. You excitedly walked to meet up with him and offered a big grin.

Well all is not lost! This leads into his next step; Flattery! “Dear Y/N, you cut your hair. It looks-” “Ugh, don’t remind me.” You quickly cut him off, mood souring just a tad. You explain the tragic story of how you stupidly got a chunk of your hair caught in a lever. The only solution was to cut it clean off, the dramatic change was definitely still a sore topic.

Now the boy was breaking a sweat. He changed to a new tactic, to cheer you up. Xingqiu dropped the subject and prompted that you both look at the newest releases. It would help to take your mind off things and he was banking on the last step of his plan to pan out. It was his last hope.

The two of you settled on the docks and were eager to discuss the books you had just picked. Xingqiu had hidden a love poem into the latest book from your favorite author. He knew you couldn’t resist picking it up, so he stealthily slipped the note into the book you held. Xingqiu spend all night pouring his heart out just right onto the page, as if trying to convey every reason he should be by your side. He expressed his desperate want to be the one to protect and cherish you. Watching you now, talking about your day, left his brain dazed in admiration. It made him realize that all those little things before didn’t matter, as long as you knew how much he adored you in the end.

Finally, you pulled out your newest book to show Xingqiu. The distressed boy nearly fell off the dock. “T-the cover-” He stammered, quickly righting himself. You looked back at him concerned, and slowly explained that it was a limited edition cover. It was only available for the first hundred copies sold. When you saw there was still some in stock, you just had to snag one.

Why do novels make romance it sound so easy....

Xiao

Fatal Flaw: One track mind.

Xiao had been hyping himself up for this one moment for weeks! He nearly talks himself out of confessing every other minute. You may not even reciprocate, but for his sanity he couldn’t keep hiding how deeply he cares for you. The whole situation was so uncertain but the hammering in his chest was proof that he had to do this.

Its like a band-aid he just had to rip it off. To get it over with. Xiao had no idea how to approach it and resorted to redeeming a favor owed to him. He needed to know what he was getting into and have a battle plan. When he approached Ganyu for advice he concealed most of the details. If she was any the wiser who he was asking romantic advice for, she was kind enough to not to mention it and let him keep his pride.

Xiao glanced down at the single glaze lily in his hand. The irony was not lost on him. It was almost humorous, an adeptus making an offering to a mortal and asking for their blessing.

It was almost the time and he prepared as if going into war. You greeted him and sat casually on the balcony railing of Wangshu Inn. Xiao wasted no time with pleasantries and held out the glaze lily to you. “Please accept this.” He stated. The flower was rigidly extended to the full length of his arm. The fiery determination on his face was quite off-putting while offering such a delicate plant.

“Ah... I appreciate it Xiao, I really do, but I can’t.” You began to say, confusion steeping into your tone.

“I insist and I ask that you hear me out.” Xiao’s arm did moving an inch. It was the first thing Ganyu told him to do. He couldn’t abandon his path already.

“What is going on Xiao? I really can’t accept-” You try to explain.

“Please.” His eyes were downcast and the yaksha’s tone was the closest thing to a plea that you’ve ever heard it. You were a tad bewildered and felt as though there was no use trying to talk him down right now. Left with no other choice, you reluctantly took the glaze lily in your hand.

“Y/N I must tell you that I-” Thats as far as Xiao got before the coughing fit began. Your wracking coughs brought you to your knees. A wheeze is the only thing you could manage as you point to your bag. Xiao was alert and scrambling to make sense of what was happening. Your bag is brought to you in an instant and an arm wrapped around your waist to gently guide you to a chair.

It took twenty minutes to fully get your breathing under control. You declined is offer to go grab you help. You just knew Xiao would disappear as soon as it arrived. It was a small allergy attack and nothing too threatening, but you could tell the boy next to you was profusely beating himself up for it.

You never did find out why he was so insistent on you taking that flower. What a strange guy.

Itto

Fatal Flaw: All of the above.

The whole situation was more or less doomed from the start. Once his oblivious ass realized he was in love with you, it was over. The oni was going to confess to you so hard that people were going to be talking about it for YEARS!

It was an all hands on deck operation. Itto gathered the whole gang and then some. He was able to recruit the neighborhood kids to gather as many sakura pedals as they could carry. The boys were on staging duty, making sure the location was so romantic it could even make onikabuto stop fighting long enough fall in love. Itto even managed win a few fireworks off Yoimiya. (She brutally crushed him in a game of Genius Invokation TCG, and mercifully tossed a couple firecrackers his way as a consolation prize.) SCORE!

It was all coming together! All that was left was to distract you for just a little bit longer. That was a job so important that he could only entrust it to his competent second in command. Shinobu tried to convince Itto again and again that he didn’t need all this extra stuff. Pulling off something this complicated was only setting his expectations to an impossible height. Overall wouldn't it be better to be up front and earnest with you about how he felt? Her genuine, good advice promptly fell on deaf ears. Itto was far too busy trying to find which color would make his horns look even cooler in the light of all the fireflies they captured to release right when he said he loved you. Shinobu left this trainweck to to its thing and went to go find you.

She usually would’ve press the subject more, but she did genuinely enjoy your company. The Arataki Gang Deputy considered you a good influence on the boss and anything that could keep him out of trouble, the better.

At last, the time arrived to set all the gears into motion. Now Itto just had to wait for.... The realization hit him. He hadn't told you or Shinobu a time or place too meet today.

The bumbling oni spent a great deal of the afternoon searching for you like a lost puppy. “Yo! Y/N! Hey Hi! I gotta talk to you!” Itto yelled out across the road. He had finally managed to catch up to you two. The guy was ecstatic that things were looking up, plan was back on track! If he hurried now he could get you to the location the gang set up before sunset.

Itto excitedly told you that you HAD to see something. You were always amused by his antics, so of course you agreed. Without hesitation the oni all but dragged you out the door and towards the beach.

When you arrived.... oh crap.

Apparently, you need to get a “warrant” or something to set up the most romantic love confession of all time. Are they trying to say they own the beach or something? That's crazy now! The gang members were trying to explain themselves to the Tenryou Commission guards when you both walked in on the scene. Itto may have made things only a little tiny bit worse when he called the annoyed guard a “block head without a romantic bone in his body”, but no one was keeping score were they? Nonetheless, the whole altercation placed everyone on the scene in a Tenryo Commission cell... including you.

Shinobu was gonna be so pissed.

Wanderer

Fatal Flaw: Forgets he’s supposed to be confessing.

The whole situation was incredibly annoying anyway. You were the one who wouldn’t take the hint, why should he have to spell it out for you. It’s not like he even wanted these feelings. It was all happening without his permission. On top of that, you were dense enough to miss the point every single time he tried to explain it to you.

“Is something on my face?” You asked your newly reformed friend while putting down your book. He'd been boring holes into your skull for several minutes now.

“No? Why are you asking dumb questions?” He snapped. You noticed Wanderer had been doing that quite frequently recently. You sighed in defeat and began gathering your things.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, I’m heading out.” You told him casually.

You were usually pretty patient with Wanderer, but he’d been in some sort of sour mood lately. Typically it took a few more irksome things before he would start his attitude, but you just couldn’t figure out whats been setting him off recently. You decided it was best to just let him calm down and try again later.

“Don’t.” Wanderer said snatched your hand roughly before you could get too far. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t calling you dumb.” He spoke without looking directly at you. You made no movement towards returning and his grip on your hand did not let up.

“And?” You prompted gently.

“Sorry. I’m sorry I said it.” He spat out, clearly annoyed.

You settled back down and asked him what's been bothering him. It’s clear that he was on edge and when you pointed it out his posture became rigid. He was a former Harbinger for fuck sake. Why was this so terrifying. He had been through hell and back without flinching, yet here you were just a person with a goofy laugh and weird interests. It shouldn’t be that hard.

“It’s your fault.” The boy accused, shooting you an annoyed glare. “These emotions aren’t exactly something that come with a manual.”

You blinked back at him in confusion and damn it now you looked cute.

“Stop looking at me! It’s weird.” Wanderer sneered, and immediately scolded himself for harsh it came out. You narrowed your eyes and pointed out that he was just staring at you just a few moments ago. Doesn't that make him weird too? “What? No! That was different. Fuck, you’re already missing the point. That’s why this is impossible with you!”

You were loosing your patience and told him he was being just as impossible. “Me? At least I'm trying to talk here. You make things so much harder. If you just didn’t look at me like I asked, this wouldn’t have been an issue.” The boy jabbed back at you.

The bickering went on for a while and concluded with both of you storming off in opposite directions. It wasn’t until Wanderer entered the second room over that he remembered what he was trying to say...... “Ugh, smooth.” He scowls.

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elliyoyo · 10 days

Text

Adverse Effects (Gale Dekarios/Reader)

Hello hello, long time no see. With over 700 hours on BG3, I figured it was about time I cracked my knuckles and got to work delivering the goods. Hope you enjoy and just a reminder: Requests are open!

Desc: You give Gale a magical ring but don't check it's magical properties first. He ends up hot and bothered, and it's on you, good leader.

Warnings: Smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), sex pollen, and a good ol' creampie

Words: ~2.5k

“My condition is worsening again, I need to consume some powerful magic, or it may become volatile,” Gale begs, nearly collapsing against the tree trunk behind him as he missteps behind you and the rest of the group. If not for you stopping, Astarion and Lae’zel would’ve kept trekking along, but you weren’t just going to leave your poor resident wizard behind after all he had done. He clutches at his chest, heaving as he expectantly looks at your pack for an item to extinguish the enchanted flames building inside of him.

“Here, Gale, use this.” You offer a ring you dug out from the pile of jangling jewelry collecting at the bottom of your bag. The pink stone seemed to glint and shift colors as it was plucked out of your fingers, but you paid it no mind.

He examines it for a moment but has no problem rasping out a “thank you” before pressing it to his chest and letting himself absorb its magical energy. One moment, he’s engulfed in a purple, violent flame, and the next he breathes a sigh of relief, sans ring. His desperate breathing slows and his pain seems to be minimized, however, he is still looking off into the hills, dazed as all Hells.

“Doing alright now? How was that one; still helping less and less as we go?”

He solemnly nods, the relief of the magic already fading away from him. He collects himself for a moment, turning into the dull full-body aching that was a new, not-quite-unwelcome side effect… Better than having no bodily sensation at all in the grave, eh?

“This one was off… different… But I should be alright. Thank you very much, again.”

Should be alright was far from the truth, as you would find throughout the day. Missed attacks, too many close calls to be comfortable with, and just general Gale mishaps that were worthy of genuine concern. One specific battle called it— every single spell missed its target, or had a payoff so low that it would’ve been laughable in some other scenario. After narrowly avoiding death for almost 8 hours straight, you’d had enough and it was time to make sure this was the end of it.

“Okay, I’m beaten, and I bet you guys are too, so how’d you feel about heading back to camp for the night?”

“Yes! Gods, Heavens, Hells, yes, my bedroll is calling my name like a harpy,” Astarion proclaims, throwing his arms in the air dramatically. Lae’zel seems to agree in her own more contained, Githyanki way, pressing her lips together with a subdued nod. And Gale, standing there still-dazed, could only nod and turn in the direction of camp. Your eyes met his for only a moment, but in that moment, you saw a half-lidded wildfire going on, yet you couldn’t help telling yourself he must just be tired as all Hells as well.

So, as you make the trip back to settle in for the night, you can’t help the confusion that hits you when you catch him rubbing and adjusting his waistband. Can’t help but be intrigued by the little faces and noises he makes as he does it. Seems like that ring you gave him had some adverse effects…

Interesting.

Astarion had scurried off to his set up, Lae’zel immediately went to work on maintaining her sword, and Gale took off inside of his tent at mach speed. No grabbing a book, no sly joke, nothing, just bolted out of sight. You take a moment to say hello to and check in with everyone else around camp, but Gale stays prominent in your mind. As you realize nobody else is around to see you flocking to his tent, you clear your throat to let him know you’re there.

“Are you alright in there? Is it the tadpole, or do y—”

“What did I previously say about privacy? I just— ah— don’t feel well at the moment, I’m a little out of my element,” Gale stutters out between gasps and breaths through his teeth. You keep your eyes fixated on the telescope in the front, waiting to see if he continues, but he falls silent.

“Out of your element how? Something you ate, overexertion, magic-related…?”

“Magic-related. For sure. But alas, I’m a wizard! Made of magic! Perfectly capable of handling it, so you should just get some sleep. Forget about my ailment for the night, and it should be dealt with by the time we have to depart in the morn.”

“No, Gale, I’m sorry, but I’m coming in— make yourself decent,” you joke as you walk in, not expecting him to be gripping his cock tight as could be. You gasp, trying to find something, anything, else to look at, but all you keep coming back to is his rubbed-red and raw, weeping head. “Gods, wha— are you alright? What is going on?”

“That ring is happening. It was enchanted, obviously, but differently than we initially thought.” He’s so casual about it that he doesn’t even seem phased, continuing to slowly caress his shaft. “I, uh, I apologize, it’s like I’m charmed, aroused by nothing in particular, it’s strange…”

“Is there anything I can do? Is there a…” You trail off, clearing your throat and turning to look at the moon above you. “Uh, anyway I can help?”

“Without your mouth? Unlikely.”

And he goes beet red, cursing his jabber jaw, his blabber mouth, his fatal flaw of not being able to just shut the fuck up. Clearing his throat, stammering as he pushed out a rushed, “I’m so sorry, you should go. I should stop, this should stop— I didn’t mean to offend, I’m so— Oh gods!”

Without any hesitation at the offer, happy to help a friend in need, and very happy that said friend happened to be Gale, you’re closing the makeshift tent’s door and dropping to your knees in front of him. Even with him lying down, you can still wrap your hand around him and give him a few firm tugs.

“I can do a lot with my mouth, but I can still work some magic without it if you will.” There’s a devilish glint in your eyes as you continue tightly jerking him off, his eyes and mouth wide open in shock and insane pleasure. He’s unable to will any words to escape him, save for the moans, groans, and grunts that involuntarily slip from his sweet lips.

“Is this—” He’s broken off by a whine as your finger grazes over his tip. “The ring? The enchantment?”

“No, no, I don’t feel off, I just… want you. I desire you. I’ve thought of this— maybe not like this exactly— but I never thought… I would ever have a chance.”

“Well, here I am, at your disposal, so please, please.” His eyes flit between your lips and himself, wishing, waiting, hoping, praying to feel the warm, beautiful wetness of your mouth around him. And as if you read his mind, you happily oblige, leaning down under his hiked-up robe to wrap your lips around his head and gently suck. His head flies back in ecstasy, fingers gripping the blanket beneath him to keep himself from tearing your hair out or pushing your head down to make you choke on his cock, as much as he’d love to feel the sensation of the latter.

Small rhythmic bursts of sucking turn into licking him down to his base, tracing a vein or two on your way down, which then turns into lazily dragging your tongue over his balls while your hand makes up for the lack of attention higher up.

“Can I… touch you? Please?” He gives a tug on your shirt. And who are you to say no to Mr. Wonderful, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep? You pull your nighttime shirt over your head slowly, exposing your bare chest to the chilly evening air.

“Are we… both okay with this? Are we on the same page here? Is this okay with you?” You can’t help but rapid-fire questions at him now that the thought of him being under the ring’s influence has intruded your mind. He shifts his hand to your face, letting his index finger gently rest against your lips.

“This is not just the ring. I… have harbored some feelings to do with you for quite a while now. It’s all just pouring out at once now, but I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my life, I can tell you that.” That was all that you needed. That confirmation that he wanted to know what it felt like to sink inside of you as much as you wanted to know what it felt like to have him fill you nearly to the brim.

“Then come here,” you whisper, just barely audible enough that he follows your instructions. His lips crash against yours in a deep kiss, his fingers knotting into your hair to keep you as close to his overheated body as possible. He is desperate, teeth gnashing against yours and capturing your bottom lip at points, saliva mixing and temperatures rising.

“I don’t know who or what enchanted those rings as such, but I must acquire several more if this is the result; me being at your will… needing,” he pants out, still holding your foreheads together.

“Let’s get through this first, then we’ll see about finding some more aphrodisiac trinkets. Tell me more about your growing need, my dear evocationist?” You lazily slip your leg over his waist and begin grinding yourself down against his exposed length. The pressure combined with the texture of your pants’ fabric puts him in pure ecstasy, obvious by the small whines that leave him and the way his teeth catch his bottom lip in a pathetic attempt to hide them.

“My need for you— it hurts, it burns in my core,” he pushes out like a plea for help. His eyes are glossy, his body vibrating with arousal, pleasure, shock, disbelief… and pure attraction.

“And is that right there good, Gale?”

“Gods, yes, don’t stop unless I get to be inside of you,” he groans, bracing himself against the ground to grind his hips in time with yours just a bit harder, further, more any way that he can.

“Ask and you shall receive.” You push yourself off of him, pulling your slacks and undergarments down to the ground. There’s a moment of low, shallow breathing, where both of your eyes dilate as you simply take in the sight of each other. Pleasuring yourselves, more for the other than yourself, and drinking in the expression on the other’s face. The point was to tease him and see how long he could sit in anticipation, but you find yourself getting impatient enough to forget all of that and pounce on him.

You take hold of him by the base and carefully guide him inside of you. It’s impossible to put the fullness you feel into words, it’s all-consuming, and it sends shivers and shakes through your entire body. In sinking down on him, you feel as if you’d been reunited with your girthier other half— complete. A wonderful pressure begins to bubble up in your abdomen as you begin moving, evident to him by the way your nails dig into his shoulders. His hands have found their place on your hips, and in no time, they’re gripping you half-to-death. He’s using his tight grasp to slam you back down onto him, meeting you in the middle. The symphony of skin against skin was sure to be keeping quite a few of your companions up, but it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this scenario. His mouth finds its way to your chest, gently taking a nipple between his teeth and grazing his skillful tongue over it.

His lips make a soft pop as they unlatch from you, and all he can do in this moment of boiling hot lust is prop himself up on his elbows and watch you in all your glory. He gazes up at you with that same half-lidded gaze you saw on him earlier, except there’s a bit of boyish wonder. He’s not just perceiving you, but admiring you. One hand eventually trails its way up your leg to your waist, and he begins to help you come back down on him harder, faster— his twitching legs and quick breaths gave away that he was already getting close from the change in pace.

“Gods, Gale, you’re so good,” you groan as you lean forward, forcing him to sit up a bit to support your head as you rest it on his shoulder. This just gives him more of a chance to fuck up into you like a wild animal, chasing more of your moans and his climax. “Fuck! Gale, please!”

“I love this, I love you, I love the feeling of you, I love it!” His voice goes up and up and up until his high pitched breathy ramble is cut off with one last loud groan. Now it’s your time to admire; eyes screwed shut, forehead scrunched up as his mouth lays open wide. With the show you were getting and the feeling of him filling you with warmth, you were helpless against the waves of your own orgasm crashing into you. You two take a moment, nothing but the sounds of your gasps for air between you, limbs still intertwined and sweat still mingling.

“If all I have to do is ask for this, what do I get if I really beg?” Blabbermouth, indeed. You pull his chin up to give him a sloppy kiss, continuing to hold his face as you pull yourself off of him, making a mess of him as his cum drips out of you.

“Save it for next time, I’ll think of a few things we can try down the road,” you joke with a small chuckle as you allow yourself to fall on your back and reach for your clothing. “How’s everything feeling with, uh… the ring?”

“Yes, yes, that was very beneficial. It was like my body was held in lava, until I felt your touch.” He gazes at the mess you two have made, but makes no moves just yet. He pushes his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, beginning to fall into a daze admiring you as you dress. “Are you going?”

You pause. Are you going? Should you stay? Would that make the journey awkward? What did this mean for you and Gale, that you had slept together to help him out after the being influenced by some magical ring? There was nothing there besides the ring?

Gods damn it all.

“No, no, I just... I used a cloth that was lying around to wipe myself off, it was instinct to get dressed afterwards.” You avoid the question, hoping to take his mind off of your quick separation from him instead of any pillow talk. You fold the cloth you used and hand it over to him, looking away while he cleans himself up as if you didn’t just ride him into next week. “Any way you could conjure a second pillow?”

“Anything you wish, so long as you join me tonight.”

And you do. And many nights after.

#gale dekarios #gale #bg3 gale #gale x reader #gale imagine #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale bg3 #bg3 #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii

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