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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 month

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I was planning on having more out this week, but storms here where I live have set me back a bit in getting things out due to power constantly going down. I'm behind, but I promise things are still coming. We have the steamy risking it without protection fic and the angsty Truth or Dare part 6 coming, so stay tuned!

Lt. Riley doesn’t really want to be here, stuck in the middle of the loud, crowded bar right off base on his night off and yet here he is amidst it all. Just wanted to, he will repeat if pushed for an answer as to why he’s come out and a part of him might even mean it, at least that is what he will try to convince himself of because he can’t accept that he knows it’s a lie.

A strong grip wrapped around his glass from his large hand, he brings his bourbon to his lips as those brown eyes scan the place from within the recesses of his thinner black balaclava that he wears when back in civility. His dark eyes are constantly on the move to disguise their true target, flitting from Soap to Garrick to whoever else is speaking around the small group of tables the taskforce has claimed for the evening only to dart back to one person: you.

He eyes you across the bar chatting up some bloke with mid length black hair and a prominent neck tattoo, smiling and giggling in what looks to be a lively conversation of shared interests and it makes his blood pressure rise until he can feel the heat in his face. Lucky for him that the mask conceals enough, only being pulled up from time to time for him to take a drink or grab a quick smoke.

For whatever reason you both have never really gotten along with one another, even from day one. There is something about your personalities that just does not mix, a tension that always leads to an argument. Maybe it is the similarities in your natures, maybe it is because you aren’t afraid to speak out where he is more subdued and calculated. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, whenever you are in proximity it is like trying to force gasoline and fire to coexist in the same place without causing destruction. Sure, you can both be professional in the right setting, force yourselves to work together for a common goal as sergeant and lieutenant and you are good at it, but once the threat is gone and you are back on safe ground, the feud ramps right back up.

So it surprises you when the lieutenant immediately agrees to tag along tonight. He usually isn’t too keen on this type of rowdy fun, preferring quieter company, but over the past couple of months it seems like wherever it is you find yourself he is never too far away. It is a free country and he can do as he damn well please, even though it is obvious the way his stare keeps coming back to you.

He may have everyone else fooled, but not you, no. There is no mistaking the feeling you get whenever his gaze falls on you.

You have noticed it more and more in the past couple of weeks the way that somber glare subtly finds you when you are near. Clearly you are doing something right to piss him off and there is something euphoric about forcing his attention to constantly stick to you. Why not play it up? Maybe you like the idea of making him watch as you finally score.

You hope it makes him seethe to see you happy.

Those dark eyes stick to you for a couple hours until finally he has caught what he has been waiting for. He follows your form as you get up from your seat and make your way over towards the bathrooms. He can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity and before you have even let the bathroom door shut behind you, the lieutenant is already on his feet and drawing down his mask as he stalks towards the bastard you were just chatting up a second ago with only one goal in mind.

The same goal he has had for months now anytime you start to get too close to anyone.

Your mystery man has just brought the neck of his beer bottle up and put it to his lips when the shadow from the lieutenant’s large stature casts over the table he is still sitting at. As he looks up he is met with the most intimidating face he has ever seen staring right back at him. The firm stance mixed with the glare in the lieutenant’s eyes within the skull mask gives the man pause and the confidence he once had slips away as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I help…?” the dark-haired man barely gets out before he is cut off as the lieutenant steps up to him.

“That bird you’re talkin’ to just a moment ago,” Lt. Riley says, his thick British accent deep and viciously harsh from the very first syllable; he’s only got a few minutes to get this done. “Ya best leave ‘er alone if ya know what’s good for ya.”

The man swallows hard trying not to choke as he is caught off-guard by the intense hostility that has seemingly come out of nowhere. “Dude, if she’s with you I’m sorry, I didn’t know. She’s the one that approached me, honest,” he chokes out his apologies, hoping that it will be enough not to get his face bashed in by this hulking specimen of a man.

Lt. Riley ignores his comment and leans down closer to his face, his stare sharp and cruel as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. His fingers dig in hard until the man winces. “Don’t let me catch ya talkin’ to ‘er anymore tonight, got it? Cause if I gotta come over again you’re gonna wish I didn’t and by then it’ll be too fuckin’ late for ya. I’ll make sure ta put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Do ya understand?”

Eyes wide in fear, the man slowly nods; there is no need to be told twice, not from a man like this. He knows the type of guys that frequent the bar as the military base is not but a few minutes from here and he isn’t looking to get pulverized by a trained professional. A slight tremble in his hand, the man grabs his beer bottle and takes off into the bar with a worried look on his face.

Lt. Riley watches as the man hides himself behind a large group standing around the L-shaped bar near the bartender and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him as he heads back to his own table to finish his drink, content that once again he has succeeded in his mission. It’s not even a couple minutes that pass before the corner of his vision catches a familiar figure exiting the bathroom and heading back to the table he had just left from.

You return to your seat only to find your new friend nowhere to be found. Looking around, you second guess yourself that this isn’t where you are supposed to be, but this is your table; your rum and coke is still right where you had left it. You take your seat and pick up your drink; it’s possible that he had just scurried off somewhere and would be back any second. But as the time passes with no man in sight, frustration begins to wash over you as you realize that this shit is happening again.

It’s been months since you’ve been able to have your needs met by something other than your fingers and for some strange reason no matter how good things seem to be going, it ends in you getting ghosted. Why? Even the few times you’ve had encounters on base the guys you had flirted with for days suddenly go cold and avoid you like the plague.

Is there something wrong with me? you question yourself silently.

Across the way, Lt. Riley downs the last swig of bourbon in his glass, setting it back on the tabletop gently as he situates his mask back down. He doesn’t say a word or offer a goodbye, opting to silently slip out from his seat unnoticed to head outside with a smirk contorting his lips beneath the fabric covering his mouth.

He has gotten what he wanted…well, not all. There is still something else that eats away at him, a specter at the back of his mind, and even as he convinces himself that he is only doing this to make you mad it still lays there in waiting.

Back at your empty table, you finish your own drink and are about to call it a night when you spot your potential lover tucked away at the far end of the bar, hunched down in his seat. It’s odd the way he is sitting; it almost looks like he is trying to avoid being spotted, but that can’t be right, can it? Moving your way through the noisy crowd of people, you make it over to him.

“Thought I lost you,” you say cheerfully and watch him choke into his drink.

He coughs a few times before he is able to get it under control and speak. “Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says. His response is quick and dismissive as he sets his bottle down and turns to leave, but you are determined to at least get some feedback as none of this is making sense.

You block his path with your stance and watch as his whole body tenses. “Did something happen? I thought we were having a nice time.”

The man uneasily looks around the area, searching for something that he ends up not being able to find, but that only alleviates some of the tension in his brows. “Look,” he says as he turns his attention back to you, “you’re really nice and all, but I’m not interested in getting my head caved in tonight, okay?”

Your cheerful expression falls. “What are you talking about?” you ask in confusion.

He takes a breath; he needs to get out of this conversation fast. “Some big masked guy came over while you were gone and threatened to put me in the ground if I didn’t leave you alone, so that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t know if he’s your ex or something, but I don’t want any part of that,” he confirms. “So, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna get out of here before he comes back.”

You want to convince him to stay, that there is nothing going on that he needs to worry about, that it’s just your vindictive lieutenant trying to ruin your night, but the way he is shaken up you know there is no stopping him. All you can do is defeatedly watch him walk away as you say goodbye at any chance you had at getting laid tonight.

But this encounter isn’t completely useless; with his revelation things begin to add up now. All this time you thought it was you who scared off your potential lovers somehow, that there was something wrong with you that kept driving them away, but no. It is Lt. Riley who is going around threatening people to stay away from you, you are sure of it now.

And that makes you see red. What even is his endgame? Things have always been tense between you two, but this is going too far. You need to find out why and now because this is becoming unbearable. He has messed with your life long enough without your knowledge; tonight it is all going to end.

You turn your head back over to where the lieutenant had been seated and you spot his glass still sitting on the table. He couldn’t have left that long ago if his empty cup hasn’t even been cleared yet; if you leave right now and hurry, you probably will catch him. Quickly getting the bartender’s attention you pay your tab and immediately head out into the night ready to get your answers.

Each step makes your heartbeat pound a little faster the closer you get to base. Fueled by the uninhibited state you find yourself in from of the couple of drinks you had, you don’t want the moment to dissipate; you need your anger to power your words so that your lieutenant knows just how far over the line he has crossed.

You make it back on base and head in the direction of the barracks, passing by the dark offices and other buildings that are seemingly empty for the night. It’s late so there are not many places he can be and soon you can see them come into view. That is when you catch a figure leaning against the brick, the light from a cigarette glowing orange dimly in the shadow and you know you have him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you spit the venom-filled words to him as you come to stand at his side, arms crossing tightly across your chest as you stop.

The lieutenant ignores you, keeping his face straight ahead as he brings his cigarette up to his lips, ignoring your presence like you aren’t even there as he takes a long drag. The audacity he has to disregard you completely after all he’s been up to behind your back makes your blood boil over and you react fast. Instantly you reach out and rip the dwindling cig out of his fingers to flick it angrily to the ground; only then does he acknowledge your existence.

“Don’t know what your fuckin’ on ‘bout princess,” he grumbles as he pulls out the pack of smokes from his jeans pocket and takes out another cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he lights it up and takes a few short puffs to get it going.

Christ, did you fucking hate when he calls you that, all condescending and shit and he knows it too. That’s why he always uses it, just to watch the way it makes your skin prickle and your pulse race as it riles you up…just like it’s doing right now.

Your cheeks are burning red hot with your anger and you know by the feeling alone that it is visible even in the low light. “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you accuse. “Thought you could ruin my fun and I would just never hear about it, did you? Well, guess what, I did. Guess you didn’t intimidate the guy back at the bar as good as you thought ‘cause he told me all about how you threatened him into staying away from me and now things around here are starting to make sense.”

So, pretty boy talked after all that scaring he had done; fucking hell, he wasn’t planning on being found out tonight. He can’t deal with this right now; he needs to get away before this gets out of hand. “I’m not doin’ this right now,” he mutters as he flicks away his second cigarette and begins to walk off.

You are right on his heels. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” you say as you quickly follow him as he takes off inside to a random room not far from the entrance. You barely register anything about the place, only caring about making sure you are on the right side of the door so he can’t lock you out until you’ve said your peace.

Slamming the door, you press your back up against it. There is nowhere for him to go, not with how you are blocking the exit and it is clear that you won’t be leaving. Goddammit, why tonight? The lieutenant isn’t drunk, but he still has enough liquor running through his veins and he is weary of being alone with you.

You aren’t going to let him be, though; your anger won’t let you. “Well, you got anything to say or are you going to stay silent like a fucking coward?” you ask pointedly.

His fist at his side clenches and unclenches to match his jaw beneath the mask. Gasoline and fire; he can’t stop himself from matching your energy. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? It was me. You’re distractin’, sergeant,” he says, that heavily accented voice harsh with his assertions. “Throwin’ yourself ‘round like a bloody slag ‘tween the men here and at the bar. Ya like that? Being a cheap piece a meat? Ya think that’s a good look for your rank on this team, hmm?”

You shake your head with a forced incredulous laugh before turning your gaze back to him. The only person who is ever allowed to make decisions about your actions is you; whatever you choose to do or not do isn’t up for debate with any outside party. “What I do on my own time is none of your goddamn business. If I want to screw every member of this operation, I will. If I want to fuck a rando from the bar, so be it. It’s my choice and you need to stay out of it.”

It’s a lie, you have no intention of becoming some barracks bunny, but that doesn’t make the point any less true. There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship from time to time and you aren’t going to let him take that from you. This job is hard enough as it is. Still you can’t shake the question that is floating around in your head.

Why does he care so much to go to all this trouble? Why not just stay away?

The Lt. peers down his nose at you, those striking amber eyes looking at you through the opening in his balaclava to give him a dangerous appearance as they are cloaked in shadow. Standing in front this beast of a man has left many shaking in their boots, but not you, never you. Fuck him if he thinks this bit of intimidation is going to do anything; it’s not.

“It is my goddamn business,” he growls. “Ya talk a big fuckin’ game, but ya don’t know what the hell your doin’. Gonna get yourself in trouble one a these days.”

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for me is that it?” you ask. “I don’t need a savior. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Even he can’t deny that you can handle whatever it is that comes your way. He has worked beside you for quite a while now and there is a reason you were selected to this task force in the first place. No, it isn’t his need to protect that causes him to put himself where he doesn’t belong, but he can’t face the truth; he can’t…can he?

“Besides, what the hell do you care, Lt.?” you spit the question harshly into his face to break him out of his thoughts. “Just like to screw with my life as a part of some goddamn powerplay? You got nothing else better to do than fuck everything up? Pathetic, even for you.”

The lieutenant’s jaw shifts as his dark eyes are silhouetted within the confines of his mask silently stare back into your own. There is a glint in their depths, a catch of the light that makes them glisten as he locks your vision in that stoic glare.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone there, princess,” he warns as he moves in closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, you’re gonna get fuckin’ burned. Ya best quit it now or else.”

Taking your pointer finger, you lean forward and poke the tip of the digit directly onto his sternum over his t-shirt and push down. “Make me.”

Hearing those two deadly words come from your mouth while being this close with emotions this high makes his brain short-circuit and he scrambles to get control of the thoughts at the back of his mind; no, he can’t let them get out. For a split second you catch a flash of something in his gaze that gives you pause and leaves you with a strange but familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach before it is gone just as fast as it came on.

Flustered and confused, you don’t notice that his hand has moved from his side until it is wrapped around your wrist as he wrenches yours off his chest and smacks it against the door, pinning it there next to your head. “You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now,” he threatens as he gets into your face. “Keep it up and see what happens.”

The lieutenant is so close now the sensation from the warm air leaving his mouth is felt against the lower half of your face even through the fabric of his mask. You can smell the bite from the tobacco and liquor as he exhales a weighty, ragged breath. There is a curious tension permeating the space now, filling the area around your bodies until your chest begins to ache with anticipation for something you can’t put into words.

What are you wanting to happen? You aren’t entirely sure you want to admit it, but still there is a growing impatience that makes your limbs tingle as you wait for the moment to break. “You’re not going to do shit,” you scoff. “I haven’t been touched in fucking months and it’s all your fault; you think I care about showing you respect? The way I see it, you have two options: either leave me the fuck alone or I make your life a waking nightmare until you do.”

Why aren’t you shoving him away? Your wrist is still gripped in his fist and yet you haven’t even tried to free it. Sure, your words are ruthless and heated, but you’re still here and he doesn’t understand what is happening. The atmosphere is shifting and he can feel it like a perplexing magnetism, a push and pull that he is finding harder and harder to fight off. He needs you to leave and quickly as he isn’t sure how long he can last under this growing torment.

“Ya best get out, now,” he growls under his breath. “It ain’t a good idea for you to be here anymore.”

His threat does little to make you back down and instead you tilt your head with a cocky smirk on your lips. “Why’s that? Can’t take the fact that someone can actually stand up to you?”

“Not that,” he says curtly.

“Then what?” you push him for the answer.

Lt. Riley stays closemouthed to your question. How the hell is supposed to answer that when your pulse is pounding through your veins and he can count the rapid beats through his palm that is around your wrist? He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves the feeling of it.

The silence is heavy and dangerous, too much and you aren’t sure what is going to happen, but you can’t leave with nothing; one of the many questions you have has to get a response at least. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that one I’m not gonna make you, but if you want me to leave you are going to have to give me something. I’ll go back to my original question: why do you care about any of this?”

The lieutenant is suffocating on the strength of the tension shared between you. It’s intoxicating, more than the whiskey he’s consumed tonight. Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from wanting more and suddenly the fingers on his free hand are lightly grazing along the waistband of your jeans in that sliver of space between your shirt and your pants where just a millimeter of skin can connect with his touch. It’s too late for him now; he can’t let you go.

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat at the electricity of the contact. The longer his touch lingers on your body the more disoriented your thoughts become until you aren’t sure what is happening. You desperately want to slap him, shove him off and storm out, but a secret part of you that has started to glow like a tiny ember in your chest quietly begs for him to keep going.

Why can’t you tell him to stop?

“I can’t let anyone get to ya,” he murmurs with a labored inhale. “Don’t care what it costs.” Those hazel eyes with their blown out pupils never break the connection with yours as his fingers draw a line over your warm, soft skin and suddenly it’s near impossible to pull in enough air to keep you sane.

“Why?” you ask. “Hate to see me enjoying myself? Just want to keep me miserable, is that it?”

Those rough, thick fingers risk a bit more as they slip ever so slightly up so that his palm can rest against the meat of your hip and that’s where he stops. His gaze drifts down just a moment to admire how far his touch has gotten. This is the closest you both have ever been in the time you’ve known each other and it is overwhelming.

A shift in his stance, a half step in closer, his hand still resting against that soft, balmy flesh, and is that the pounding beat of your heart you hear pulsing in your ears? You need him to say something, anything, in hopes that it will break the spell that is making you more delirious by the minute.

“Say it!” you demand as you wrestle with the flood of sensations.

His eyes drift back to your face. “ ‘cause,” he says, that gruff, masculine voice making his words firm, “if I can’t fuckin’ ‘ave ya, then no one can.”

The confession knocks the wind from your lungs and you struggle to intake a breath. This has to be a new game he’s playing at; that’s it, a new tactic to make you lose your shit and destroy you in new ways. There’s no way he is serious, right? You study his gaze for any sign of deception, for him to crack and mock you for falling for it, but all that meets you is a fervent stare that makes your body burn.

“Fucking bastard,” you snarl as your resolve to break away from him slips silently away.

“Slag,” he responds.

A few seconds drag on into eternity as you stare back into those dark eyes, your heartbeats racing faster and faster with each labored breath you intake from one another. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, you are supposed to hate each other, but is that really what it is?

You’re the only one who has always treated him like a person, not some monster to be feared. It’s true you fight and bicker and drive each other mad at times, but not once have you ever backed down from him. You’re headstrong and steadfast in yourself and that is something he respects. And more than that, he desires.

His words, why do they sound so good? If it was anyone else you would have slapped them silly and told them to fuck off, but the way he covets you feels like ecstasy. You enjoyed his attention before and now that you have all of it, it’s all you could ever want. There is an ache in you now that can only be quenched one way and that is from him.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins blurs that thin line between hatred and desire until it no longer exists. As if another is piloting his body he cannot stop. All at once something snaps and before you can fully comprehend the action, he is shoving his body into yours as his hand wraps around your throat. A wall of massive, bulky muscle presses tightly into your curves, pinning you to the surface as he wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips and grabbing your face between his hands, those large, rough things that have more experience holding a weapon than something soft and tender within them, he meets your mouth with an insatiable intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

Things you’ve both buried deep rise to the surface as the dam breaks wide open, feelings that you both had suppressed under the guise of hatred because you couldn’t…no, you wouldn’t admit that maybe there was something there. It all comes pouring out into the kiss with a feverish urgency as you unsuccessfully scramble to contain them.

There is no restraining this fire of desire from catching you both ablaze.

Lt. Riley’s grip is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn as the brunt of his need is forced upon your lips until they sting the harder he presses into you while the stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth. The taste of the bourbon that he had been imbibing all night is on his breath, crisp and sharp as it hits your tongue with its bite, but it does nothing to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace and matching it with your own.

You want him tighter against you still and your hands run up the back of his head through the cropped bits of hair that have popped out from below the edge of his pulled up mask. The feeling of your fingers running through the short hairs near his neck as you bear down on his mouth make that hulking military man shudder and you sigh delightedly into him at the reaction.

Is it really that easy to make that big man fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him.

Strong fingertips jab themselves into your hip so that he can pull your pelvis flush against his while he shoves his boot between your feet to pry your legs apart, widening your stance so that he can fit his bulky thigh between them. The curve of your hip is accentuated by the position and he runs a heavy hand across the length of it as he pushes up against your pussy and you both gasp into each other’s mouths from the feeling.

That instant pressure against that gnawing ache in your clit has you grinding on his thigh. “Christ, Simon,” his name falls from your lips onto his while you cling to his neck to hold your body up as you push down on him as hard as you can to get enough friction through your clothing. He lets you have at it, using his leg however you see fit until you can feel the gathering moisture in the crotch of your panties.

“Do you even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he growls, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tastebuds as he shoves his tongue into your mouth past your lips to meet your own so that they can dance.

He has a taste for you now, a craving that cannot be quenched, an insatiable hunger that eats him alive. And he needs more.

Catching your bottom lip, he sucks it in between his teeth to give it a fierce nip that smarts, but you like the pain; it only makes you feel more alive as the aggressive nature of your attraction makes you feel like you are drowning.

“Fuck, need it now,” you demand desperately. “Where can we go?”

The question makes him pause and Simon pulls from your mouth to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. “Ya know where we are, dontcha?” he teases.

Your eyes drift from him and really look at your surroundings for the first time since you got in here; you are in a bedroom, not just a random room like you thought. There is a small chest of drawers beside a bed not far from where you stand and on top is laying that familiar hard shell skull mask.

You’re in his room.

“Shut up,” you breathe. “Just fuck me already, bastard.”

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says with a smirk before he is back on your mouth again.

Coarse hands desperately paw at your clothes as softer ones claw at his, undoing buttons, pulling off shirts, shoving down pants; a flurry of lips caressing while limbs frantically move until both of you stand bare naked before each other. The last is his mask that he removes himself; he is about to be inside of, there is no need to hide from you anymore.

You barely have time to take in his striking features: that strong jaw accentuated with old, faded scars, that prominent nose, that stern brow, before two strong arms pick you up and carry you the few short steps to his bed, forcing you down and shoving you onto your back so that you are pressed down against the surface as he clambers on top with you. His hands part your legs like warm butter and he keeps them spread as he positions himself on his knees between your thighs.

Quickly he leans over to the short chest of drawers and flings open the bottom most one, reaches inside, and grabs a small, square packet. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he brings it to his lips and grabs it with his teeth, shredding the top to pull out the rubber. He tosses the packaging to the floor and in one swift motion, slips the condom over the fat tip of his girthy cock and rolls it down the long shaft.

That is it, without another sound he sits back up and clenches his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers hold onto the meat of your hips as he makes sure he is aligned with your entrance. “Ready, princess?” he asks through short, quick breaths.

Your hands grip into his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking and get inside me,” you order aggressively.

The tip of his cock is prodding against your opening and you are panting with anticipation as you wait to feel it break through the threshold. It’s right there, right at the point you need it to be to give you the relief you’ve been seeking after the months of agony during your dry spell. Then all at once Simon’s hips rock forward and the head slips inside, stretching you wide open.

You gasp and buck your hips as he gathers the strength for another thrust to slip it in a little more; you are taking him so well. God, he could not ask for more. One more strong thrust and his cock rips into you deep until he reaches the base, bottoming out with a loud, guttural moan.

“N-nh… ah…” Simon groans as he twitches from the constriction around him. “Fuckin’ hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

Breathing through the intense feeling of being stuffed full you roll your hips into him to send shock waves of ecstasy through his shaft and his head falls forward to hang limply as he attempts to calm himself enough that he doesn’t blow his load right here and now just from that initial contact.

“Gimme a second,” he growls, but you shake your head.

“No,” you say, “waited too long for this.”

You will be the death of him and what a fucking sublime death it will be.

Fine, if you want fast and rough that is what you are going to fucking get. He holds on tight as he begins to pound into you hard, making you bounce with the force of his thrusts up and down as he takes you at this unyielding pace. You are anything but fragile and he uses that to his advantage to be as animalistic as he wants.

The longer he drills his cock into you in that relentless tempo the more lost in the feeling he gets until he is completely ravenous only for the sensation of your body. He has waited so long for this, dreamt endlessly of this, yearned in secret for months for this, and it feels exhilarating to finally have it.

His primal grunts fill the room the harder he gets and you are suddenly swept up in it all as your needs are finally being met. You lose yourself in the moment, whimpering and whining as the euphoria washes over your body to make your limbs tingle. Soon you are so loud that you are surely going to draw unwanted attention.

Reaching out his fingers find your lips and roughly he pries them apart so he can shove two of those thick digits inside your mouth. “Keep quiet,” he grunts as he continues to thrust. “Don’t need anyone hearin’ us before I’ve finished with ya.”

Getting you quiet, he needs something for himself and he knows just the thing. Leaning down over your body, his hot mouth latches on to the side of your throat just below your ear and you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig into the supple flesh. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. A token of who has claimed you.

And he is going to make sure it sticks.

It is a while before he unlatches his mouth and when he does he brings his lips up from your throat to your ear to fill your mind with only his voice as his hand finds the top of your pussy so that his finger can stroke over your clit. You’re gonna come and you’re gonna come hard if he has anything to do with it. “Look at ya, fallin’ apart just for me, princess. God, I wanna fuckin’ ruin ya.”

Simon pulls his fingers out of your mouth so that he can kiss your raw lips, making you swallow all his desperation until you are gasping for air. “I’d do whatever it takes just have ya all to myself,” he says, the words husky in his throat as he groans them into your mouth. “Need ya to belong to me and only me.”

Simon leaves your mouth to sit up higher, taking the pressure off his knees and pulling your body up slightly with him, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of your bodies at the point of their union and fuck is it a beautiful sight. The way he disappears inside of you is mesmerizing and he doesn’t want to look away, but he also needs you to see it. You need to know how both your bodies are made for each other.

His hand moves to the back of your neck and tilts your face down. “Look at how well your gorgeous body takes me. Do ya think anyone else can give ya this?”

Your dreamy gaze drifts lower between both of your bodies and stares at Simon’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles as they contract and release with each thrust, his hips plowing into you, filling you up completely as each of his thrusts go down to the very base of his shaft. Your mind is in a daze as you feel him hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again before his shaft reappears covered more and more with your juices over the condom.

There is something so primal about watching his cock slip in and out of your tight body, watching as you slowly fall into oblivion.

His amber eyes catch yours and he smirks. Your cheeks are flushed bright and it thrills him to know that it is because of how he makes your body feel. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a picture wrapped ‘round my cock like this,” he groans, his strokes becoming more sloppy as the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt get louder.

The longer he thrusts the more his sanity wanes until there is not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he comes. You can see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrills you more as he becomes a hunter ready to catch his prey; it makes you shiver.

“Ya like the way my cock feels inside ya, dontcha?” he asks in a low growl. “Fillin’ ya full, stretchin’ ya out. Ya think anyone else can give it to ya like this? Ya think anyone else is gonna make ya come as hard as I’m gonna fuckin’ make ya? This pussy is gonna belong ta me after I’m done with it.”

Ragged, broken moans escape your lips while your hips rut up to meet him at the height of each thrust as his voice begins to push you over. Your hands around his shoulders tense and as he strikes into you again your nails dig in, raking across his back in angry red lines that tingle and burn as you drag them down over his muscles. Oh, you are definitely close.

“Ya gonna come for me, princess?” he teases mercilessly, desperately clinging to you as he too is about to spill and wanting you to go first. “Do it then. Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The way this beast of a man is wrapped around your body, you are completely at his mercy, his size letting him do with you as he pleases and you have no say whatsoever. And yet here he is furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingertip strokes at your clit; he is doing his utmost to get you off even though he could leave you high and dry at any moment.

Never have you ever wanted someone to take away your power more than you want him to right now.

Your hands leave his body only to gather in the sheets, gripping them so tight you can hear threads popping and feel the strain on your fingers. Each slam of that throbbing cock into you causes the warmth to grow in your stomach, each second that passes the pressure gets stronger and stronger. Finally at long last, you fall completely silent and with a few more desperate thrusts that pressure is released and shoots through you white hot as you come hard and fast.

Simon continues to grind into your pussy through your whimpers as he lets himself go and within a few more seconds he too is falling over that ledge, his torso shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he pumps all that built up frustration into the tip of the condom inside you. His hips buck and are punctuated with deep groans until he has nothing left to release and he slowly comes to a stop, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs to help him catch his breath again.

You both stay locked that way as you calm yourselves back down from the high, your legs trembling around his waist, the sound of his inhales the only thing to break the quiet that falls over the room. Once he is able to he pulls out and falls down onto the bed beside you.

Moving onto your side, you look over at him with a smirk. “Well, shit, never would have expected that,” you mutter sleepily.

He turns his head to face you. “Is that right?” he asks in that low, gravely tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “As if you haven’t been flauntin’ yourself to keep my attention. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes for months now,” you push back. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Reaching out his arm, his fingers lock into your hair, tying it into a ponytail in his grip before he gives it a strong tug. “Yeah well we’re gonna change that. Cause I wanna be the only person ya look at, princess,” he says harshly so you know he means business, “the only one that holds your attention, the only that gets ta be in your ‘ead. I’m gonna be the only one that gets between your legs and no one else; I wanna be the one that knows just how ta make ya fall apart. And any bastard that tries to get in my way is going to fuckin’ get it.”

You chuckle. “Possessive much,” you say snarkily only to receive a solid tug on your hair.

“Absolutely gonna be selfish with ya,” he returns as he brings your face in closer, “cause I would rather fuckin’ die than watch anyone else take this away from me.”

Pulling your head to him, Simon licks the smile from his lips before latching onto your mouth one last time. Maybe you two can find common ground after all…can’t be too mad at each other when you’re making each other orgasm.

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Hiii how are you? Could i please request a jealousy fic with jason and dick, like how would they react? What would they do about it? I'm sorry its reallyyy cliche, but i love it anyway💕

Hi anon! I’ve been fine, been taking lots of power naps whenever I can, especially after work, but I’ve fine.

Jason’s jealously more or less comes from a place of insecurity.

He fears that one interaction with the right guy/ girl/ whomever would be enough to make you see that there were better options out there than him.

He never doubts your loyalty to him, never. He wasn’t that pathetic. He just didn’t trust everyone else that even looked at you in the same light as he did on the daily, and it was extremely evident when Jason didn’t like the looks of someone; Furrowed brows over narrowed judging eyes, his form practically towering over you protectively as he stares down the person whom he believes might take you from him.

His protectiveness tends to spike up periodically the moment he see the person get a little too close for comfort and he would clench his jaw to prevent himself from saying something he might regret later on; Jason tries to restrain himself for your sake but it was blatantly obvious that he was on the brink of exploding.

So when you both got home Jason didn’t waste any time in letting you know how he felt during the entire interaction after having forced himself to hold his own tongue.

‘Did you find that person attractive?’ He’d ask.

‘No.’ you said. ‘were you jealous?’

‘I thought me staring down the poor bastard was evident enough.’ Jason scoffs and you hugged his waist all the while pressing reassuring kisses at the base of his neck, when his hands reached to hold yours and intertwine your fingers together.

‘I know that you know I love you very much, no one else catches my eye when I have you,’ you reassured as you pressed another kiss to his neck, ‘my beautiful boy, my beautiful jay birdie.’ You added in a whisper as Jason felt the last remnants of jealously fade away into the background with every kiss you gave him.

‘Are you sure you can see yourself being with me? long term I mean.’ He then says as he squeezed your hands in his search of comfort from you and it broke your heart when he didn’t see himself the way you did, but you were more then willing to kiss and cuddle away his troubles if it meant reminding him of his worth.

‘Without question.’ You confidently told him, squeezing his hands. ‘I don’t see myself with anyone else but you because even though you may not think it, you are more then enough and you are not broken, to me you are whole and you are perfect.’ You finished by pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades and resting your head there as you focused on his breathing.

‘Can…can we just forget about all this and just cuddle like any other cliche couples do?’ Jason asked, finding himself feeling a lot better upon hearing you laugh against his back as a smile crossed his face.

‘Sure big guy.’ You replied. ‘We can go cuddle now.’

And with that Jason was quick to pick you up in his arms and carry you off towards the bedroom where you inevitably feel asleep in the other’s arms, happy and content.

Dick wasn’t one to speak up on his emotions much, which was something that he knew he could better work on for the sake of your relationship with him.

He’s seen himself in the mirror. He knows his own appeal very well but physical appearance were secondary to you as it was his personality that won you over in the end. However he knew that beauty was subjective and that one day you might come across someone more physically appealing than him.

He’d act as though nothing was wrong but if you could easily tell something was off by just his stance alone, crossed arms over chest and a look in his eyes, as though he was trying to deduce the person you were trying to have a civil conversation with.

He may stand close to you and put a hand on your waist or throw an arm over your shoulders, pull you into his side and press a kiss to your forehead with a smile plastered across his face, but he wouldn’t say a word in hopes that would be enough to get across to the person that you were very much taken.

Upon arriving home however, Dick acts he wasn’t even remotely jealous to begin with, despite the glaring fact that he very much was.

‘Me? Jealous?’ He asks incredulously but upon seeing your face, he knew that this act of his had long since stopped working the moment you grew the ability to read him.

‘Yes, you were and you weren’t even trying to make it discreet at all.’ You told him as you settled aside your things on the kitchen counter and sighed. ‘I just wish you would talk to me about these things so that we could get this together like couples should.’

Dick frowned as he moved next to you and gently took your hand in his own, caressing it. ‘I know and I’m sorry that I haven’t been more open and honest with you it’s just-‘

‘You find it difficult to do so I know.’ You cut him off, looking him in the eyes. ‘I don’t blame you for that and I never would, you know that but I just wished that you trust me more to speak to me about these things.’ You tell him as you squeezed his hand. ‘I only want to help you.’

Dick kisses your forehead. ‘I know you do and I appreciate it very much.’ He whispered against your skin. ‘I just don’t know what you see in me sometimes, nor do I understand how you could have possibly put up with me as long as you have given how closed off I can be sometimes.’ He adds as he pulls away, his heart weighing heavily in his chest as he awaits your response.

‘I stay with you because I love you stupid.’ You said softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. ‘And maybe because Hayley is too cute a pup to ever leave.’

‘I had a feeling Hayley was a major factor in you staying.’ Dick laughed. ‘Can’t say I blame you though, she is indeed very cute.’ He adds as he looks over at the staffy, who was very much fast asleep in her little bed in the living room before looking back to you with gentle eyes. ‘But I’m glad that you did stay. I love you too, dummy.’ He utters softly as he nudged you with his shoulder, vowing to himself to do better by you from this day forth.

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tender-rosiey · 11 months

Note

Hello there! If it's not a bother,i wanted to request Chuuya,Kunikida and Akutagawa getting into a fight for us and the reader's reaction? the other person might have badmouthed the reader and that caused the character to get into a fight with them. Thank you!! <33

“WATCH YOUR MOUTH”

— dazai, kunikida, chuuya, and akutagawa fighting someone who badmouthed you

a/n: also especially posted for @dazaiaiko cause it has been while since I uploaded something bsd related

DAZAI OSAMU:

"hello there!" dazai greets as he enters the bar. he, with a birth smile, takes a seat at the table with two men, "pleasure seeing you here."

one of them snaps at him, "the hell is your business here, kid?"

he waves his hands in innocence, "hey now, no need to be so aggressive! I just came to have a pleasant chat with you guys about something...rather personal."

"it just so happens," dazai continues, interrupting the man's response, "that you've badmouthed my dear lover," he closes his eyes as he smiles, "that isn't something I am fond of."

the man laughs, "so you here to pick a fight, ay?" the man tries to get up but is hindered by something rather painful. namely a knife grazing his thigh.

"don't cause a scene now; I would hate having to clean up after your mess."

the man frantically nods. dazai then retracts his knife, nestling it safely in his pocket.

he simply thinks that no one should be allowed to treat you like that so this should act as a warning. that if he ever tried insulting you again, there will be consequences.

dazai laughs, "that's good to hear!" he stands up, dusting his brown coat, and heads to the door, "hopefully we don't meet again...for your sake."

soon, he is at your door with a bouquet of flowers. the moment you open the door, you're greeted by his beaming smile, "hello, belladonna! you look as lovely as usual!"

you roll your eyes, leaning on the door, "what has brought you here, 'samu?"

"my heart simply yearned for one y/n l/n," he hums and you chuckle.

you take the bouquet with a grateful smile, "I think you just came for the crab salad I made."

he presses a kiss to your cheek before letting himself in, "that is merely an added bonus, my dear," his arm wraps around your waste, "I am here for you, you should know that."

"I also know that you went to the bar to threaten that one guy."

he pauses, "...really?"

"mhm."

"darn."

KUNIKIDA DOPPO:

to unwind, you deicided to take your husband on a date to the cafe under the agency. you were having a good time in general, but kunikida couldn't help but notice the people in the adjacent table talk about you.

"what's wrong, doppo?" you ask, your hand resting on his own.

he looks up at you with a smile, gently squeezing your hand, "it's nothing; don't worry about it."

you smile and continue on your conversation. all seems to be normal but then kunikida hears something that he simply can't let go.

he abruptly gets up and headed towards their table. he towers over them as he asks, “do you have any business with us?”

they exchange looks with each other before one of them speaks up, “well—“

“then I would appreciate you if you keep quiet.”

they quickly shut their mouth and before kunikida turns back to walk to you, he looks down at them and says, “let’s keep things civil for your sakes.”

the men don't let the threat slide and one of them tries attacking kunikida. he swiftly dodges and grabs him by the collar, pushing him to a nearby wall, "surely what I said was easy enough for you to understand."

the guy, terrified, nods quickly and kunikida releases him, letting him fall to the ground. the guy scrambles to his feet and his friend soon follows suit.

kunikida pushes his glasses up with a sigh before he turns to you, "sorry for my reaction, but—"

he stops in his tracks when he sees you looking at him in awe and with a silly little smile on your face, "aww, you love me!"

he looks at you, confused, "of course, I do."

you tackle him in a hug that he doesn't hesitate to recporicate, albeit with a hushed whisper, "y/n, pda is unacceptable!"

you press a kiss to his cheek and he quickly shuts up. y/n used kisses: very effective!

NAKAHARA CHUUYA:

you and your husband were walking the streets, jumping from shop to shop. of course, it was fun and it helped that your husband is very engaging and tells you what he thinks and genuinely suggests outfits.

you stopped at a particular shop, though it was one that you already had something in mind to get.

so chuuya left you to your own devices, but as he was chilling, he overhead people talking about you in a rather unpleasant manner.

so he went to you, pressing a kiss on your cheek and telling you he had to quickly check something, then he followed them outside the shop.

because of their wonderful luck, they enter an alleyway. chuuya smirks before going in after them but they have yet to notice him til he speaks, "what do we have here?"

they snap their heads towards him. one of them snarls at him, "the hell you want?!" and chuuya's eyebrows furrow.

"I will just teach you a lesson," he smirks before slamming the guy's head to the wall. the other one sees the scene unfold and attempts to run away. chuuya doesn't let him get far.

soon, they are both beaten to a pulp and chuuya dusts his hand.

one thing that chuuya likes to remind people is to never badmouth you.

alas, some are simply unfortunate.

so with his head high and chest puffed out, he heads back to the shop.

though, he is met by a very angry you who grumbles, "nakahara chuuya."

he tenses up and smiles at you, "heyyyy babe, how was it?"

"what did I say about beating people up?"

the disappointment in your eyes hits him hard then he frowns, slightly blushing, "listen, they should know better than to speak about you like that."

you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. what's done is done and you can't change anything. you also can't complain about having a husband who always has your back.

"won't tell me I am your strong husband at least?"

locking arms with him, you roll your eyes, "you're my 'strong' and 'handsome' husband."

he laughs before nudging you lightly with his elbow, "now what shop do you wanna go to?"

AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE:

a normal evening: you were chilling on your couch, scrolling through your phone.

you didn't think that anyone would show up at this late hour. and even if they did, one expects a delivery man to come knocking on their door, not their nationally feared boyfriend injured and using the door for support.

thankfully though, he isn't in a terrible shape, but he has sustained quite the injury, if the stagger in his step is anything to go by.

"ryu!" you gasp as you run to steady him, "what happened?"

you gently lead him to the couch where he finally sits down, letting a tired sigh. he avoids your eyes for a moment before speaking up, "just had a fight with some people."

you frown, inspecting his injuries, "what did they do? anything related to the mafia?"

he shakes his head as he watches you get the bandages and whatnot. you settle in front of him and he hesitantly shows you the injury. your eyes brim with worry and you instantly start tending to them.

after a couple of moments, his hand moves to rest on your head, "they were...badmouthing you."

you freeze and look up at him. he frowns, a little defensive, "what? I hate anyone who talks you down."

a small laugh escapes your lips as you press a kiss to his cheek, "what did I say about getting into unnecessary fights?" you hum and almost coo at his blushing face.

he averts his eyes and grumbles, "that was very much necessary."

"you could've just ignored them," you quirk an eyebrow at him and he ignores your reprimanding, firmly believing that fighting for your honor is worth every injury he could've gotten.

you cup his face, "ryu," you caress his cheek and he grumbles making you giggle before continuing, "I just don't want you to get hurt even for me."

he sighs with a small nod. his shoulders relax upon seeing your smile, though he avoids telling you that he will, without hesitation, get in another fight just for you.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @jisbizarre @kunikida-simp

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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wandagcre · 6 months

Note

hii ive been down bad for kate bishop fics lately 😓😓. can i request a oneshot of dom intersex kate bishop just fucking reader but shes just as needy as reader? oh and maybe some choking and breeding cause why not 🤭🤭 thank youu!

better than the rest | kate bishop 🔞

(Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader)

Your partner as of late called it quits with you. Kate was concerned, insisting to check up on you. With the warmth she always had provided, you can't help but think of other ways she can comfort you.

WARNING: top!kate, kate has a penis, bottom!reader, self-loathing (r), p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, choking, breeding - not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 4.6k

“I think it’s for the best if we break up.”

Was what your partner said while hesitant to meet your eyes. It snapped you back into consciousness that your gaze on them fluttered rapidly in wonder. Yes, undeniably, there was a hint of sadness that hit you. After all, you dated them for half a year, it was… stable. No, rather it was stagnant, so you supposed this was bound to happen.

However, with your silence and clenched fist, your now ex-partner mistook it as deep despair.

They carefully placed their hand atop yours across the table. “I’m sorry–”

“You don’t have to be,” You cut them off, sighing in resignation. The acceptance somewhat came in quickly to your surprise. “I do not want to weigh you down at all, especially when it comes to your happiness. I-I… truly understand where you’re coming from.”

A faint smile appears on their face. You return the expression, wanting to ease the tension. You wanted a civil conversation where they could easily say the thoughts that they might have been withholding. You had your own as well. From there, the two of you discuss what went wrong – you simply drifted away from each other, inevitably with the long distance as another obstacle. The infatuation stage didn’t last – your relationship was too casual for someone who should be lovers.

As the conversation ran, the air felt lighter. You didn’t realize how much you missed them but this further confirmed that you and now current ex, worked better as friends. The notion of breakup was mutual and amicable between you two and turned out better than you both hoped for.

What caught you off-guard as you parted ways, was how your ex mentioned a certain friend of yours.

“Say hi to Kate for me! That girl is always on your rescue.” They gleefully say with a pat on your back and a knowing smile.

You froze for a moment at the sudden mention of the Avenger but managed to form a cohesive reply. “Sure. I’ll make sure she doesn’t send pitchforks or arrows on your way.”

“That’s very much appreciated!”

The two of you ended up giggling as you waved goodbye and a part of you remained stunned. Your heart was pounding, as though a dormant thought had come back to life.

It has been a week since you were available on the market again and you received mixed responses. You wanted to laugh, at how some disapproved and agreed that you and your ex were simply different. When you rebutted that technically, opposites attract, your close ones were quick to say: totally inapplicable to this case!

Your family knew how you’ve grown close to Kate; and seriously, they kept mentioning the woman! You lost count of how many times you’ve become flustered each time they lumped you and shrugged the thought that maybe you two had a great chemistry together. But in all seriousness, things were easy with Kate – the archer somewhat managed to juggle you in her time, between Avenging and college, your dynamic was far from you and your ex. All it took was the fateful encounter you guys had at a hardware store you part-timed in, attending to her questions, and Kate charming you with her clumsy rambling self.

Why do you keep comparing her now with your ex? Screw these insinuations, now you cannot stop thinking about the other possibilities.

And speaking of the devil, the archer finally had her well-deserved free time. Said through the phone that the aliens and gods can handle the potential storm for a while, to which you were surprised to hear, knowing that she took Avenging duties seriously close to her heart. Unbeknownst to you, all it took from Kate was your break-up news and it immediately filled her with concern. She was far too occupied even if it was only a few days, setting aside her feelings for you, Kate wondered how you were holding up.

“Get in sweetcakes.” Kate hollered from her rolled-up car window as you waited in front of the hardware store. Your shift just ended. You shook your head at how corny it was, although it was endearing enough to make your insides fuzzy.

“Not if you call me that one more time.”

It only occurred to you that it was a bad idea as soon as you saw the glint of mischief in Kate’s eyes, hands on the side of her mouth, ready to scream.

“Sweetcakes! Sweetcakes, Sweet–”

“Stop embarrassing me, Jesus.” You get inside her car, rubbing your palms together to warm you down. Kate chuckled at your feigned display of annoyance. It was certainly her favorite pastime.

The drizzle had stopped. The familiar afternoon glow wasn’t there, instead replaced with grey skies, giving a gloomy ambiance in the chilly weather. Yet, it barely affected the natural state of Kate’s aura – her bright disposition and smile giving you warmth.

Blood rushed on your cheeks and ears as you realize you’ve been taking quick peeks to your friend’s side profile.

Kate cleared her throat, “Actually, I prefer to be called Kate.” You give her another displeased look. “Fine, I relent. So are we going to talk about it now?” Kate shook her head sideways, urging you to elaborate. She leaned comfortably on the driver’s seat, prepared for a long story time before you guys hit off the parking lot. You were casual – too casual – as though this was another Monday for you.

Break-ups aren’t normally this way, right?

“What was what? Can’t I get a hi first?”

“Hi.” Kate says unamused. “Now, I was worried the whole time. I know we’ve talked on the phone but I’m not fully convinced ‘til I hear from you.”

“Aw, so you were thinking of me?” You tease Kate who’s cheeks flamed up yet you did not notice as she pushed you off playfully.

She groaned. “Come on. I’m sure break-ups are commonly followed by crying and drinking afterward. Not… this!” Kate gestures at you, hands flailing at your almost poker face. “Or have you recovered already? Because that’s either an impressive world record or a bunch of bullshit to me.”

You chuckle at the unending questions being thrown at each other. Now you figured out how you sounded odd.

For the sake of her inner peace, you decide to let it out. “Look, Kate, it was meant to end at some point for us. I mean, when was the last time I hung out with them? I don’t see them a lot, we don’t feel the spark anymore. I’m almost always hanging out with you. There isn’t any bad blood. I guess we just fell out – not compatible anymore.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You look at her straight to her ocean eyes that you love. Wait, what? “I don’t… I don’t think I’m missing out on the relationship department because, in the first place, I haven’t been getting any action.”

Kate awkwardly chuckled at your words, tugging on the collar of her shirt.

“Uh, that I cannot fix. I’m sorry?”

You laugh at the archer’s response. Taking a good look over Kate’s outfit, you see that she’s particularly dressed up today – indicating that she had business to attend over her family’s company. She wore a black suit patterned with an embroidered burnt orange design. She was a treat in your eyes.

Were you shamelessly checking her out?

Yes, very much so.

Kate, however, wasn’t as clueless as you thought. She lets you and plans on teasing you about it. Even if it was out of curiosity or an innocent admiration, the archer wouldn’t tell you – at least for a couple more hundred years – how she loved being the subject of your attention. It didn’t help that your being single again had spurred her mind on the gutters and honestly made you more desirable at the moment. However, Kate refused to delve into them right now – out of respect as your friend first.

"Would you be interested in hooking up with me?” You sultry uttered.

The air within the car felt thick and a pin drop could almost be heard. You shook your head in disappointment to yourself – God, of course, this wasn’t very proper of you to ambush Kate like that. Her silence was very telling. You caught the archer real good, flabbergasted, and can barely formulate a proper word out of her pretty mouth. Nodding at this, you understood that it was too much – forward and probably disrespectful.

You start buckling your seatbelt.

“No, no I get it. Don’t worry, Kate. Let’s just get out of here and–”

Kate was quick to shake her head in disagreement, "No baby, you don’t understand,” The archer’s voice sounded desperate. She did not even realize how the endearment smoothly left her lips. “You're all I wanted! But that doesn't matter right now, you just got out of a relationship–"

“–I told you it wasn’t built to last. I guess it’s a talent of mine, I can’t keep things to stay.” You say out of attempted humor, although your mind had flipped into a different perspective now, the thought was very unsettling.

Can’t you?

"It’s normal! Nothing goes perfect on the first few tries,” Kate sputtered out, desperate to provide an ounce of solace. “Just like with cooking, we burn stuff, end up ordering takeout. Or- or me with my things. You know how many times my messy self can misplace a lot of things.” Especially my hoodies. I swear they keep disappearing on me, the thought suddenly coming into light to Kate. Whatever, she hoped that in a way, she managed to lighten up the conversation.

One thing about Kate is that her rambling and playful nature combined somewhat grows into this charismatic mess. A giggle almost erupts out of you but clearly, there is another time and place for that.

“Well, you do keep losing your keys.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re notorious for parading around while wearing The Ronin’s suit and coming back to your apartment.”

“Ouch. Not my brightest moment I’ll admit. But at least you’re getting my point!”

Finally registering her words, you rolled your eyes now good-heartedly to Kate’s relief. "And if you’re wondering about your hoodies, no they are not lost. I may or may not have some of them.” You admit your crime and Kate comically jutted her head closer to you in shock. It’s like you read her mind. “Not bad for a pep talk, Bishop. But I guess we’re not fucking, are we?”

Now the last sentence had Kate gripping her seat, not expecting your unfiltered spew of words. Would it be bad if she were to admit that her cock twitched at the thought of having you?

But your comfort comes first. She worried that a speck of insecurity could have been plaguing you, wanting to ease that more than ever. While you peered at the window seat, the archer exhaled, scooting to your side – at least the most she could, anyway.

"Give me your hand." Kate's elbow rested in the middle of the car compartment, where her jug is confined, her palm extended for an invitation for you to hold. "Come on, you big baby.”

You take the chance, petulantly placing yours atop hers.

"What now, gonna take the rejection easy on me?" You raise an eyebrow, looking away from her. "Or is it another one of your pranks? Kate, I'm telling you I can take rejections like a big girl despite your disagreement. It was a dumb proposition. Just forget it." You try to act unphased but the grumble gives you out. The feeling slowly sinks you further into humiliation.

Why would you ask your good friend for a good time?

Kate feels the laughter begging to erupt out of her chest. Still, she doesn't, knowing that you might take it the wrong way. God, you were so adorable. "You're not getting it, always so stubborn."

You feel her squeezing your hand.

"Yada, yada. Just drive, Kate."

Kate's hands remained interlaced with yours even with your curt reply. Eyes curious over you. Even with your mind far away, they have always been so expressive and raw which makes it tenfold difficult to look directly – all tender and equally needy as you, only if you took the chance and looked.

She admits timidly, "I want to. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment just to kiss you. But I cannot afford to be your second choice, just because it is convenient. I don't want it to be a casual thing!" Her voice bounced off a pitch-higher.

You bit your lip in contemplation. Kate doesn't take her eyes on you nor disrupt the short comfortable silence that lingered. Her hands come to thread through your tresses, admiring you out in the open now.

How could you not have seen it earlier?

It would have saved you a lot more time. One that couldn't have gone to waste. Kate has always been worth your while. Meanwhile, the said woman was stunned. Kate's throat was almost caught in a lump, in disbelief that she got to pour an ounce of her confession. She can't help but rub your sides soothingly – in hopes of calming your turbulent mind.

You unexpectedly move away from your seat, determined to plop yourself on Kate's lap. You swung your legs atop her and a tremendous surprise struck the archer; she could not grasp the uncharted territory being crossed.

Having you so intimately? Kate was going to combust.

"Huh. It's a good thing that I specifically don't intend it to be a one-time thing." You place your forefinger on Kate's plush lips. "No, I don't expect this to be a casual thing either. I'm sorry if I didn't see the signs earlier..."

Her ocean eyes had a glint of hope, her heart thrumming madly at the next words that would leave your lips. "So you're saying...?"

"Take what's yours, Bishop." You moved closer, arms dangled between her headrest. You comb through her jet black hair, her attention hopelessly hooked onto you. Inching further to her ear, you husk out, "Do me like you mean it."

She sharply inhaled.

“I’ll make it worth your time.”

You answer her with a tease, wiggling your hips forward so slightly, her ocean eyes melting at the motion.

She takes one last look to find traces of an ounce of possible regret and retreats from your offer, only to see the unadulterated need in the swirls of your darkening eyes.

Kate's grasp over your hips tightened mouth agape over your affirmation. Her cock was no longer flaccid, instead, it started to strain through her jeans. You feel her and your cunt throbs madly. She was clutching over the layers of your clothing, now eager to take them all off. All she ever craved was to worship you, for you to finally notice her – to take you as she means it – just as your green light urged her to do so.

Both your lips clashed, tilting on the opposite side, excited to get a taste of what both of you were missing out on. It was no longer as hesitant and awkward as the chaste kiss that you initiated a few minutes ago. You taste the faint traces of her favorite coffee that caused you to smile. The cramped space was overwhelmingly filled with tension and adrenaline; Kate rode along as you did and happily explored your mouth – her tongue swiping sensually along your lower lip and catching you in another bruising kiss again, to which you enthusiastically let out a guttural moan at.

"I’m so drunk on you right now..." Kate muttered, her voice dropping a few octaves. You ground harder in response, moving languidly against her as the kiss continued.

Her scent was alluring more than ever. You claw at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her silky tresses. “Then, consider this definitely worth the hangover.” You moan sultrily in Kate’s open mouth - both of your sounds crashing.

Lips bruising and breathless at this point, Kate reluctantly pulled away to adjust her car seat. It was hilarious and endearing for you how she kept smiling between your kisses and the archer kept on chasing for your lips. Even with her numbing lips, she scattered open mouthed kisses all over your jaw and neck, your whole body set ablaze.

“No backing out now.” Kate returns the equally seductive tone, her vulnerability poorly hidden underneath her assertive act.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

“Good.”

You feel Kate clawing the fabric of your shirt underneath the bunched up jacket of yours. the way her nails dug desperately had made you buckle over her lap, bodies pressed more than ever, making the two of you moan.

"You feel so good against me," Kate murmured breathlessly. "I can't get enough of this." she confesses with much candor, eyes gleaming at you that it sends shivers down your spine.

You were plopped down on her lap, swollen lips, and you wanted nothing but her. Kate cannot express enough how her heart feels like it was going to burst out of her ribcage.

"Is that so?" The husk and rawness in her voice made your stomach flip, breaking out a small smile out of you. "I bet you regret it..." your hands that no longer cradled her jaw found their way instead to graze downwards underneath her fancy suit, nails digging on Kate's fine abdomen. "Regret how you said no to me earlier."

The firm muscles grow tense under your touch, making you smirk. you had the Bishop woman successfully loss at words. She only hummed, seemingly lost and busied herself through littering your jaw and neck with more kisses, her teeth inevitably scraping at your skin.

And Kate? She's more than willing to be under your hypnotizing spell.

Kate soon broke the barriers and went her way to claw on your bare skin. The obvious choice for you was to discard the jacket that was nothing more than an obstacle. You wanted to feel her, craving for so much more. Although, you find yourself smiling a little with how the archer was hesitant to break the kiss as the inevitable parting in the process came - Kate chasing your lips - both of you having red and swollen ones from a thirst induced by a dance.

You're riled up and so is Kate. more so, she's afraid to break the momentum. Afraid that you would snap out of this haze anytime, so she savors each second – the shared warmth, the charged tension that drives her crazy, and your lips heavenly against hers – better than she ever dreamed of.

When your hands begin to tug and unbuckle her belt, Kate looks at you with her ocean eyes skeptically.

"You wanna go all the way?" Kate rasps out and fuck, you have never heard of something more attractive than this. "I know you're- you might be still processing the break up. I don't wanna..."

"Kate, listen to me." Your eyes pierce against hers, hands tangled on strands of her disheveled jet black waves, gently tugging and making the archer groan low at the sensation. "Among all the things I mourned and doubted for today, this - us - is not one of them. So yes, I want this. I need you."

Kate took a deep sigh. "As long as you're-"

"-long is what I want, it’s underneath your pants, and you're keeping it away from me. Unless you're backing out now on me, Bishop."

Her perfect teeth clutched against her bottom lip as you've managed to unzip and free her cock out of her boxers. Your mouth agape in shock, heavens, she was big as you expected. How would it fit? You witnessed her member grow erect under your needy gaze. Kate has no other choice but to moan pathetically as you hold her cock.

"S-shit! Baby, be careful!" Kate hissed low, although her touch continued to relay the want coursing through her.

"Sorry," you sheepishly say and regardless, it dawns a stupid smile over Kate's features.

It's rough and slightly painful on Kate's end, making her turn red sporadically. You take pity and spit on her cock to lubricate it, the stroke and twists slow at first. The action made her lower stomach and appendage twitch, with her foreskin being tugged in your grasp, Kate uttered a string of soft moans, all putty in your hands quite literally.

Sue her, she's over the moon right now.

You bite your lip. "I can't take this anymore, I need you inside of me."

Your spontaneity and darkening gaze continues to make Kate's head spin. She loved being the subject of your desire. Fuck, it was the hottest thing she has witnessed yet.

"Do you now?" Kate chimed, having a palmful of your breasts through the shirt you're wearing. your eyes rolled back. "Unzip your jeans for me."

When you moved your body up, you failed to measure the distance between the roof of Kate's car and your head, making you bump your head in the process. you muttered a soft ow - heat settling on your cheeks. Kate's gaze however, did not waver, and it brought a pearly smile on her face as she found you endearing.

"Do I have to do it for you baby?" Kate murmured, her hands gripping over your waist.

You shook your head timidly. "No no, I can do it,"

"That's my girl." The archer scratched her nails light on your stomach, a moan inevitably escapes your mouth. You feel her thumb teasing underneath your bra.

It was the push you needed, then on it was almost smooth sailing as you deftly unbuttoned your jeans. Gravitating to Kate's touch, your own body was attuned and glided for more. Her blue eyes never left yours nor her ministrations that descend over your breast and waist faltered. Your heart pounded madly at such intensity.

Your playful ways shifted back, maneuvering through the limited space - it was a miracle for your slightly trembling hands. You were glistening enough to make Kate's throat grow dry.

As your eyes peer down, Kate's cock felt intimidating, with a girth and length that none of your previous experiences could rival. Not to mention her precum looked tempting.

All that is left is for you to lower down and so you let your impulsive thoughts win; plunge in.

Your face curled in the unexpected stretch. Maybe you shouldn't have done that.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god—slow down!" Kate whisper-yelled, her mind flitting between panic and pleasure, not knowing where to succumb first. "You should've warned me first! I don't even have a condom rolled up yet," Her grip over your hips reprimanding you as it was almost bruised; the archer tried to carry some of your weight, in hopes to alleviate the burning sensation.

"Sue me, did you really have to be so–" You groaned, one of your palms against the car window for support, eyes shut in semi-frustration. Kate is fucking huge and it was vivid how your cunt swallows her in. "It looked nice and ready, can you blame me?"

The breathy heaving both of your breaths barely ceased. Fully settled in Kate's lap and your cunt insanely and sync pulsating with her cock inside of you, she gave you an unamused look. She gave your breasts a firm squeeze, kneading the supple flesh and tugging on your nipples particularly hard – enjoying how your head lolled, eyes droopy in the erotic sensation.

"If you're going to keep playing like that I'm gonna need to take over. You've been naughty enough for me." The archer sultry says, nipping at your clavicle.

"Kate, what—"

She hoists you an inch, only to thrust you back to her cock. "Always taking what you want, doing as you please. I'll have to teach you some manners next time baby. But right now… I will do as you said; buried deep in you.”

Kate slid her hand on the flesh of your bare ass cheek and gave it a light spank. Reveling and lost in how she fit inside of you, your head lolled in the stack of pleasure. Your body practically molded and moved along the archer languidly, feeling her front against yours.

Fuck, how can she fit in the depths you've never explored before? The squelching sounds of your wetness grew and filled the car, erotic to your ears. The vehicle no doubt rocking along the motion and build up that Kate has been brewing.

Your hands loosely enveloped between the driver seat's headrest, upper body slumped and now chest-to-chest against Kate. Even with her unwavering thrusts, you feel the heel of her palm firm around the side of your neck, along with her thumb applying pressure – inches away from your jugular notch – squeezing you.

No, Kate was choking you.

Eyes flutter shut, you respond with enthusiasm. "Yes, oh, yes!"

"You look so beautiful right now..." Kate dazedly confessed. Her hands moved to your lower back for support. Opening your eyes in curiosity, you see her half-lidded eyes – your favorite ones – softening. "No, you always do. I can't believe this,"

The peppered kisses on your shoulder and above your chest were spread out. Kate's breathing was gruff, you found it adorable as you were well-acquainted with her focused state. Her words dripped with much honesty that it pierced right into your heart, her name already indented there.

Meeting Kate halfway, your hips continued to gyrate along and your palm gently cradled her by the cheeks. You kissed her fervently, filled with a newfound passion. Kate was surprised but fully snapped out, returning the same energy. This was an enlightenment; another step that both of you are eager to explore together.

Your eyes welled up; both in joy and the fruition of her lustful hard work.

Her hips fluidly doing an upward thrusts to squeeze all the juices worth out of you, the archer makes sure that she's punctuating her punishment for you. There was barely a resistance anymore that your walls practically accommodated the entirety of Kate's cock. Although the stretch lingered, adding to the build you wanted.

"This sight? M-mm! Kate, you- you better make it count. Take all of me."

Your jaw went slack as your dirtiest fantasies are being overfilled with Kate's grip and her determined grunts. Your clit throbbed and you took it upon you to rub it. She whimpered upon witnessing the act. Kate swats your hand away, pad of her fingers applying more pressure against your nub.

You feel Kate's mouth and teeth nibbling on your pebbled nipples this time and being filled to the brim with her words, you don't know if she knew you already came.

Kate knew. Her eyes flicked between your face and saw your pretty tummy, how it twitched, the bulge of her member appearing at each pound. Her trousers were tale-telling too as it was ridiculously soaked.

A shrill was pulled out of your throat. Kate continued to thrust, "Gonna fill you up until your walls are painted white. You wanted this right? Then I'll give it to you, baby," You see her veins bulging out of her neck, the archer completely flustered as she releases thick ropes of her cum inside of you. You were still throbbing at the fill and the aftershocks. The warmth was overwhelming, from your walls and Kate's cum coating you, both of you felt slightly numbed. She kissed and marked you underneath your jaw and you hummed softly.

"Where did that come from?" You murmur while an inch away from Kate's plump lips.

"Guess you bring out the best in me."

You giggle at her silly self coming back and comb through her jet black strands, scratching at her nape. She lets out a soft moan. You're satisfied with how ruined her suit was almost unsalvageable with its creases and wetness.

“Well shit. I think we’re banned forever in this parking lot.” Kate jokes, breathless, causing you to softly chuckle. She’s never been more thankful for the invention of tinted car windows.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x fem reader #kate bishop female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #lesbian #wlw #intersex!kate #requested

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writing-goblinnilmerg · 1 year

Text

You’re his mate? | Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Aonung gets it into his head that you’re together

A/N: Credit to @dantakeyoman for inspiring the ending

Masterlist

GIF cred: @urlocalfeiner

Being Neteyam’s mate, you couldn’t bear to watch him leave the Omaticaya forever. So, you went with the Sully family. You had no family to speak of, so leaving was an easy decision. You cried when you left, however; the forest had been the only thing you had known. Neteyam held on to you, feeling exactly the same way, but waiting until you and him were out of sight from his family, not wanting to make it worse for Kiri and little Tuk.

Pleased or not, you finally arrived at the islands across the sea. You were fed up; you had been traveling for days, left your home, and now you learn that it might all have been for nothing. Your tail was swishing in anger, so Neteyam put his arm around your waist and Lo’ak put his hand on your shoulder - before he got side tracked by Tsireya, that is.

Two boys about your age were looking at you and whispering to each other. Now it was Neteyam’s turn to be angry; he never liked seeing other boys watching you. You lent into his shoulder to calm him down before he did something that he would regret.

Finally, you were granted a safe haven, much to the displeasure of the two boys, who left. Jake negotiated to give you and Neteyam your own Marui, following complaints from both Lo’ak and Kiri about hearing you two “cuddle all night”.

***

You were practicing breathing exercises with Tsireya, Lo’ak and Neteyam when Aonung ran up to you and said that Neytiri was looking for you and Tsireya. You shrugged, and the two of you left your little circle to go find out what she wanted. Neteyam ruffled Lo’ak’s hair and ran off behind you, leaving behind a silent warning not to anger Aonung.

Left alone with Aonung, Lo’ak started packing up his things to go practice elsewhere, while the metkayina boy tried to start up a conversation.

“You know, for freaks, your oldest sister is very pretty.” Lo’ak scoffed and walked away. Kiri was hardly an ideal choice of mate for Aonung.

You, meanwhile, were completing chores that Neytiri had assigned after talking to Tsireya. Neteyam had been dragged away by his father to hunt.

“Hello!” You jumped up from where you were crouching, startled. Aonung stared back at you, his hand up in a shy wave. You hissed and went back to what you were doing.

“We should get to know each other better. Like a date?” He said. The last thing that you wanted to do was go on a date with him, especially since you had already mated. However, he was the chiefs son, and you had promised Jake that you wouldn’t cause trouble, so you scuttled away without replying.

Unbeknownst to you, Aonung had taken this response as a positive one and had gone to tell the entire clan about it.

***

You were eating dinner with Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Kiri when Tsireya ran in to your marui.

“Is it true? You’re dating Aonung?” She cried out, breathless. Neteyam immediately moved from his position next to you. Upset that Neteyam would so easily doubt your trust, you shook your head.

“He asked me out but I left without saying anything. I wanted to spit in his face but I kept it civil.”

“Actually, yesterday he came up to me and told me that my sister was pretty. I thought he was talking about Kiri, because anyone with eyes and a brain could see that you two have mated.” Said Lo’ak, thinking back to the beach.

“Well, unfortunately for you, my brother is lacking a brain.” Said Tsireya, annoyed by his antics.

“What should we do? Just ignore it?”

“Tsireya, could you please tell anyone who talks to you about this that Aonung and I have never dated, and that it was just a rumor.” You asked your friend. She nodded and left the marui with her new mission.

***

A few weeks have passed since Tsireya had burst into your dinner, and the clan seemed to have moved on to other gossip. It was time for Aonung’s rite of passage.

You weren’t particularly interested in the scumbag boy becoming a scumbag man, so you and Lo’ak were cracking jokes the whole time while Neteyam tried to stifle his laughter.

“My son, Aonung, has become part of the clan!” Boomed Tonowari. “He may now choose a mate!” The clan cheered and dispersed, gone to their maruis so that the new member could visit them individually, as was Metkayina tradition.

All the eligible girls of the clan hung an ocean flower above their door, signaling that they were interested in being courted. Your marui was noticeably flower-less, and you and Neteyam settled down for the night.

***

Neytiri shook you awake.

“You must come! Now!” She whispered urgently, trying not to wake Neteyam up. Unfortunately for her, he’s always been a light sleeper. He jumped up immediately. Neytiri pulled you up and dragged you to Tonowari’s grand marui. Inside were the chief of the Metkayina and his family, plus the sullys. Aonung brightened when he saw you.

“Y/n. Aonung has told me that he has chosen you as his mate.” Lo’ak burst out laughing as Kiri scoffed, but Neteyam had had enough. He pulled you into the middle of the marui, where everyone could see, and kissed you, hard.

“I am going to say this for the last time,” Neteyam said, barely controlling his anger. “She is mated to me, understand?” Aonung nodded quickly. Jake stepped forward to fill in the awkward silence.

“Tonowari, thank you, but we must talk about this later. Neytiri, would you mind taking y/n?”

Neytiri took your hand and gently led you out of the marui to go with your ikran. You weren’t particularly worried for Neteyam; you knew that, when it comes to your relationship, Jake wouldn’t be too hard on him. You didn’t know why, but Neteyam suspected that it was because your relationship resembled his parents’.

***

“You humiliated him in front of his family! In front of ours! You need to go apologize, immediately!” Jake thundered.

“I’m not going to apologize for this. He went too far this time.” Neteyam defended.

They argued for longer as Kiri and Lo’ak stood outside, clearly eavesdropping.

Neteyam got nervous when he fought with his father; when he gets nervous, he plays with the beads on hair that you arranged for him. It just took this small touch to remind Jake of your bond. He scolded him one last time before deciding to calm down. They agreed that Jake would go apologize to Tonowari for the disturbance, not for the actual act.

“Besides, who taught you how to kiss like that?!” Lo’ak and Kiri jumped into the tent and started making kissing noises. Jake ruffled Neteyam’s hair and he left to go find you.

***

“You have to admit, it was kind of sweet though.” You said. You and Neteyam were relaxing on the beach during the eclipse.

“How dare you!” He playfully said. You laughed and curled up in his arms.

Divider cred: @cafekitsune

#neteyam #avatar movie #blue people avatar #blue people movie #neteyam x reader #aonung #Omaticaya #metkayina #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar fic

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mulletmitsuya · 6 months

Text

Tokyo revengers groupchat

Warnings: suggestive, swearing, 5th grade humour, an unknown femboy is mentioned, Takeomi is homophobic but no one cares, also this has the Sano's and everyone involved or close to them

Desc: Shin gets his first date in like 10 years. Also this is the final timeline but events don't exactly match up to canon so👍

Shinichiro: GUYS

Shinichiro: I'M GOING ON A DATE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Benkei: i don't care

Takeomi: congratulations. it's only been like 30 years

Wakasa: how many times have you started a conversation exactly like this? give up for all of our sakes. we're tired🙏

Takeomi: Shin there's nothing wrong with being single at your big age. it's not humiliating at all

Wakasa: aren't you single?😐

Shinichiro: screw you guys, actually ☹️

Benkei: emoji's are for children. stop using them. you're gonna frown? as a grown man? what's wrong with you

Shinichiro: what's wrong with frowning??

Shinichiro: YOU KNOW WHAT I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY A PRETTY GIRL ASKED ME ON A DATE

Shinichiro: we're meeting at a karaoke bar

Takeomi: if this happens to be real, do not drink

Takeomi: you get touchy when you're drunk and it's fucking weird😐

Wakasa: girls might think that's weird and creepy

Shinichiro: that was one time and i apologized

Takeomi: i don't give a fuck if you apologized you kissed me you fucking cunt

Takeomi: i don't even wanna talk about it i'm gonna vomit

Shinichiro: it was just a goodnight kiss. for the homies 😕

Wakasa: you stuck your tongue down his throat dude

Shinichiro: we were wearing socks so it was fine

Benkei: you just say shit

Shinchiro: you guys are ruining my vibe rn so i'm just gonna get ready for my date and the future love of my life

Shinchiro: she's so pretty i'm in love with her

Shinichiro: oh man i'm getting butterflies

Takeomi: send a pic

Shinchiro: you'll see her soon enough if things go well

Takeomi: guess i'm never seeing her

Sano affiliated groupchat

Inupi: idk a lot of us in here aren't Sano's and it kind of annoys me that this is what the groupchat's called

Mikey: get that stick out of your ass or leave like it's not that deep

Inupi: shut the fuck up you dwarf

Mikey: i'm the average height for a japanese male

Inupi: "i'm the average height for a japanese male🤓☝️"

Inupi: and no you're not. you're 5'3 and the average height is 5'7

Mikey: at least i have more than 3/4 of my face

Inupi: should you be saying that when you have a history of mutilating people's faces

Inupi: isn't that right Haruchiyo

Haruchiyo: kill yourself

Senju: girls, stop fighting

Emma: guys please not again

Draken: Inupi don't leave, Shinichiro wanted us here for something important so can we be civil for a few minutes

Inupi: whatever

Inupi: where is he anyway he said we should all be online cause of an emergency and he's not even here

Izana: are the old people here?

Takeomi: we're not old

Izana: ok grandpa

Kakucho: what's the emergency?

Benkei: fuck if we know

Wakasa: if i've come here to waste my time i'm gonna twist his dick off

Mikey: why do you want his dick in your hand🤨?

Wakasa: stop playing games Manjiro...

Benkei: is corporal punishment still legal

Mikey: i was kidding 😭

Mikey: also i'm a full grown adult so that would just be assault

Benkei: is assault still illegal

Emma: uh yes?

Benkei: i don't know why i asked because i'm going to do it anyway

Mikey: are your anger management classes even working💀?

Mikey: and lucky for me i'll be in Paris tmr for a fan meetup so😋

Shinchiro: hi guys

Wakasa: what do you want

Takeomi: i bet he fumbled

Mikey: fumbled what?

Takeomi: he had a date

Inupi: what's the emergency Shinichiro?

Shinchiro: i need you guys to answer these questions as quickly as possible

Shinichiro: what's a femboy??

Emma: now what does that have to do with the urgent emergency you told us you had?? i missed my pregnancy yoga classes for this? SHIN?

Senju: why is everything you do so unserious

Baji: Haruchiyo's a femboy

Haruchiyo: no the fuck i'm not you piece of shit

Mikey: you're not?

Haruchiyo: no??

Mikey: but you're pretty, and you look like a girl so?

Haruchiyo: no... but uh, thanks ig

Senju: girl stand up. this is embarrassing😕

Shinichiro: guys please this is serious i can't hide in the bathroom forever

Emma: what are you doing in the bathroom??

Shinichiro: i'm on my date right? so we're having a great time and we're singing and drinking and i tell her what a pretty girl she is and she says "girl?" and i'm like "yeah you're a pretty girl" and she says she's a femboy and i don't know what that means like what does "boy" have to do with anything so i went to the bathroom to ask you guys this question real quick because she said we're going to her apartment after this (!!!i think for sex!!!) but i'm just trying to clear up what she meant by the boy part

Baji: LMAOOOOOOO

Izana: it means "she" is a he

Izana: that's not a girl, it's a feminine presenting man. hence the description femboy

Mikey: I'M FUCKING CRYING 😭😭😭😭

Baji: can you even call yourself femboy when you're like in your 30's? that's a grown ass man

Takeomi: what's up with you and all these suspiciously gay situations

Wakasa: i think the universe is trying to tell you something

Benkei: how did you not know he was a guy

Shinichiro: because she's pretty! like a girl

Haruchiyo: *he's a guy

Shinichiro:

Baji: why's the cat sad. that's fucked up

Kakucho: it's basically how Senju looks like a boy most of the time and Haruchiyo looks like a girl

Takeomi: how did you not see a bulge or something

Shinchiro: she's wearing a skirt

Mikey: *he

Wakasa: and nothing was swinging out?

Izana: what kind of question is this

Emma: stop being vulgar Waka-nii😐. this is such a stupid conversation

Wakasa: aren't you a grown woman tho i feel like you can handle me talking about dicks

Shinchiro: holy shit she's a he

Inupi: can we go now

Baji: a hole is a hole

Emma: Baji ew😕

Takeomi: the difference between them is that one makes you gay because you're fucking a guy in the ass and the other one is normal

Baji: same difference

Takeomi: did you read what i just said

Mikey: he's illiterate

Baji: you can't insult me with a word i don't know the meaning of

Inupi: Shin what's the verdict?

Shinichiro: well...this is still a very pretty person so...

Takeomi: bro??

Shinichiro: is it that big of a deal tho?? i don't think it is

Shinichiro: yeah, this is fine

Shinichiro: is it all that gay if you're attracted to someone who looks like a woman?

Takeomi: if you're gonna fuck them, YES???

Benkei: he's lost it

Wakasa: i'm gonna need you to be sure about this because do you even know what to do? you're gonna embarrass yourself. you're not educated on gay sex at all

Baji: i can help with that

Draken: if i'm being honest i don't think you should take advice from anyone here at all

Baji: but i'm an expert

Mikey: we don't wanna know anything about what you and Chifuyu do 😐

Baji: yes you do

Inupi: google exists. just buy lube and condoms holy shit you guys are overcomplicating this so much

Mikey: of course you would know😒

Inupi: yeah i would know because i'm gay?? fucking idiot

Senju: are buttholes self lubricating? i can't be sure since i have constipation and my buttholes as dry as some tree bark

Haruchiyo: why would you tell us that

Takeomi: Senju watch how you talk. girls aren't suppose to say stuff like that

Senju: fine, next time i'll say anus to be more ladylike

Takeomi: and to answer your question, yes. because when you poop there's residue

Takeomi: you hear that Shin

Takeomi: shit in the ass

Takeomi: don't do this

Haruchiyo: you just told us you don't wipe your ass properly

Emma: i hate everyone here so bad omg

Draken: i think it's our cue to leave

Shinichiro: fuck it. i'm gonna do it

Shinichiro: thanks for the help guys! it is what it is at this point 😁

Shinichiro: bye!!

Mikey: i knew he'd eventually succumb to homosexuality

Takeomi: well since i'm homophobic i can't be his friend anymore

Benkei: no one cares

Benkei: Shinichiro successfully wasted our time once again

Benkei: i hope he gets an STD

Mikey: woah 😭

Emma: you're so fuckung dramatic😐

#didn't know how to end this one #uhh hope you like it #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers manga #tokrev #tokyo revengers groupchat #tokyo revengers texts #sano manjiro/mikey #sano shinichiro #sano emma #izana kurokawa #baji keisuke #ryuguji ken/draken #inui seishu #akashi haruchiyo #akashi senju #akashi takeomi #imaushi wakasa #arashi keizou/benkei

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOUR

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.8+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

4:00 ──ㅇ──────────────── 24:00

BIRDIE created a groupchat.

BIRDIE added DINGUS, NANCE, JOHNNY, & ARGYLE 😎

DINGUS: why the fuck is my name dingus

BIRDIE: so… are we going to talk about how in love they look in that photo?

NANCE: Eddie looks like he’s going to commit a federal crime, Robin.

DINGUS: how do i change my name

ARGYLE 😎: a sign of true love my friends

BIRDIE: @NANCE SEE? he gets it.

JOHNNY: Is this chat really necessary?

DINGUS: guys seriously. how the fuck do i change my name?

—

HOUR FOUR - 7:00 PM

Let the record show that you don’t normally care about Lord of the Rings. You’d seen the movies out of obligation to your friends, nothing more, nothing less. You usually held complete indifference towards the trilogy. As a matter of fact, you’d nearly given Robin an aneurysm the day you’d informed them all you preferred the Hobbit trilogy over the original movies.

Eddie, it seems, holds a similar sentiment to Robin.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch and looking far more comfortable than he had previously. A bottle of cheap beer dangles carelessly in his hand. He’d decided to grab both of you one the moment this argument had begun, “You casually bring up Gandalf, and then you proceed to have the worst opinions on the greatest franchise of all time. A crime against humanity.”

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely through genuine laughter.

You were laughing. You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his apartment, laughing with him rather than at him. It was a fluke in the system, a blip in the Universe. You tell yourself it’s just the effects of the beer.

“What’s next? You tell me you prefer Star Wars over Star Trek? Or, let me guess, you’ve never read the books?”

He looks nice like this, at ease. This hour might be setting the track record for the longest the two of you had gone without insulting one another, and you begin to wonder why you’d never been able to hold such a civil conversation with him before tonight. The two of you might not be agreeing or seeing completely eye to eye, but there was enough agreement to keep the entire debate chugging along.

He notices your silence as you take a sip of the beer you’ve nearly polished off, smirking around the rim of it, a bit of beer lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Oh my God. You’ve never read the books.”

“I never said that!”

“You never said you did!”

Your mouth is open, fighting back at the curl of the corners, unable to defend yourself because he was right. “I- Who even reads anymore?”

“Excuse me?” his voice pitches as he sits up straight suddenly, “Oh, no. There’s no way you just said that. There’s no way you don’t read.”

You shrug, and his beer is quickly set to the side.

“C’mon, everyone reads. You’ve got to have a guilty pleasure book.”

“Nope,” you tuck your bottle between your thighs, and catch the way his eyes had followed the bottle before snapping back to yours, “I just prefer the movies, I guess.”

“No one prefers the movies. You’re a goddamn liar,” he shakes his head and some of the frizzy curls fall against his collar bones rather than continuing to tickle his shoulders, “You have to read something. Romance novels, boring essays, the news. Hell, even magazines or that written porn shi-” he cuts off when you smile at the mention of magazines. “Why are you smiling like that? Stop it. It’s creepy. Do you read those porno books?”

“God, no,” you laugh. A lie - you’d certainly read excerpts from Fifty Shades of Grey he was referencing to understand what the hype was to no prevail, “Just ironic you bring up magazines. You probably consider yourself a real connoisseur, don’t you?”

He flushes crimson. His cheeks that had tinged pink from the warmth of the beer are now flaming red. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He clearly did.

“Right,” you drawl, “So which article in that Playboy caught your eye? The one about the psychological deep dive into what makes sex so great, or the interview with that one porn star? No, wait, I got it! It was totally the one that gave fifteen ways to drive a girl crazy-”

“It’s not a fucking Seventeen magazine,” he snaps, but the malice in his voice is dull, “There’s no lists on how to get the girl, it’s a porn ‘zine, Jesus H. Christ.”

“I know that, do you?” you press, reveling in the brush crawling its way down the side of his neck.

He runs a hand over his face, groaning, “I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer. Fuck off.”

“Do you just ignore all the photos of the beautiful women?” you don’t hold back your teasing, subconsciously leaning his way as your voice lilts with sarcasm, “Ignoring all those bushes? Or maybe you just prefer the Brazilian cut?”

“I liked it better when we were talking about your illiteracy,” he deadpans, staring straight ahead at his entertainment center.

“I never said I couldn’t read, just that I choose not to most of the time,” you finally pull back a bit, scared to push it all too far. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and move the beer that has gone warm to the table on the opposite end as his, “Sue me for trying to make friendly conversation.”

You await his expected response about how this was not friendly conversation. You start to do mental gymnastics of a way to bring up the specific model he had marked the pages of, of the eerie resemblance she bears to you and a way to push his buttons regarding it. This conversation was following your script, not his.

Or at least, it was.

“Fine. I prefer the bush, I always find the lack of hair kind of weird,” he says, throwing you off your game effectively. He stares at you with now expecting eyes, “What about you?”

You’re grateful you’d stopped nursing the beer, or you surely would have choked, “What?”

“What’s your preference?” he clarifies, not backing down, “On yourself, on partners. Whatever.”

“I- I don’t- I never-” you stumble over your words, at a complete loss for an answer. It only makes him smirk as he’s now the one leaning in closer, close enough to catch the smell of his cologne concentrated on him.

You hadn’t realized you’d adjusted the boyish smell of the apartment until this very moment.

“See? Not so fun when you’re the one getting asked the personal questions.”

He’s right – you shouldn’t dish out what you can’t handle him throwing back into your face.

“Fine,” you mimic him, squaring your shoulders, “Bush.”

“On yourself or others?”

“Myself,” there was no use in being shy now, “But also on, uh, partners. Kind of unfair to expect something from someone I wouldn’t give in return.”

He nods in surprising consideration at the notion. His face twists as if he’s taking words you’d thrown out there so carelessly to heart, as if there’s some hidden message that even you hadn’t realized was laced in the notion. For a moment, you start to believe he’s committing the words to memory before he answers you.

“That’s fair,” is all he says.

A moment of intense thought for that?

“What? That’s all you’ve got to say?” you scoff, and busy yourself with the beer again out of nerves. It’s warm and bitter on your tongue, but it’s better than looking him in the eyes. Warm, honey eyes you’d never really cared to notice before.

“Yeah,” he lifts his shoulders into an offhand shrug, “I mean, what else is there to say? Like you said, you can’t expect something from someone you can’t return.”

Another silence drags out, and this time, it’s stifling. You never thought you’d live to see the day where Eddie being quiet would bother you, but it does. The lack of words in the air is leaving too much room for thought from both of you. It’s giving you too much time to think on those warm, honey eyes and those damn dimples. Trivial things about Eddie that you don’t care to remember past tonight.

“My friend collects vintage Playboys,” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself immediately. What a stupid conversation segway.

Should have teased him about the dog-eared pages, you regretfully think as you dare to look his way.

His face is surprisingly smooth, eyebrows quirking up into the frayed edges of his bangs, “Oh really?”

You nod, “Yeah. Hell of a lot more bushes in the seventies.”

A lot less of that model you like, you silently add, once more not voicing that concern out loud.

The dimples return. Those fucking dimples. “Hm, guess I should check them out, then.”

“She collects them for aesthetic purposes,” you continue to ramble, filling the air, unsure of why you’re even defending yourself. You’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to dissect the small piece of your life you’ve offered, “It’s… It’s really cool, actually.”

“It sounds cool,” he agrees gently.

The other shoe is left dangling in the air, if it even continues to exist.

You think about his earlier question, of whether you really wanted to keep up a miserable act for the entire twenty four hours. If the last hour hadn’t already solidified your answer, you knew now for a matter of fact that he had a point, even if he did proceed to insult you after the question. You didn’t want to spend this time miserable. The passing of time came easier when it was like this, all rounded-edged banter and friendly words exchanged. When Eddie Munson wasn’t being an asshole and making personal digs at you, he was actually a nice person to have around.

You’d never tell him that, of course.

“It’s why I collect all that,” he motions his hand towards the shelving of figurines and trinkets, “I just think it’s cool, you know? I… Uh, I sort of lied earlier. Most of that shit isn’t that expensive. But it’s not about how much it’s worth money-wise, it’s just worth a lot to… to me.”

A glimpse of crimson, a flash of vulnerability that proves that Eddie has a heart just as you do. It beats erratically, and it can bleed just the same.

“That makes sense,” you offer in response. You may not get it, but you wouldn’t push his buttons on the topic. They may be nothing but clutter from your perspective, but the same could be said about the vintage Playboys your friend collects. The same could be said about plenty of things that are sentimental to you. “Doesn’t it get creepy, though? Like, you bring home a girl-”

“Or a guy,” he interjects, making you smile.

“You bring home a girl, or a guy, and you’ve just got Gandalf staring you down while you make a move. Or… Or, Darth Vader?” you squint to pinpoint another figurine, “Is that Darth Vader? Didn’t you say Star Trek is better than Star Wars?”

“Never said that,” he points at you with a tilt of his head, “I just don’t prefer Star Wars over Star Trek.”

“Have you seen Star Wars? It’s way more entertaining.”

“Have you seen Star Trek?” he counters, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues on, “I like both. Having a preference for one doesn’t mean I’m completely against the other. Besides, the light saber effects are fucking incredible.”

“So you prefer the prequels?” you ask eagerly.

“I guess. I mean, the original trilogy is still badass and a classic,” he stands abruptly, and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, but he just walks over to the Darth Vader figurine to pick it up and bring it back over with him as he flings down onto the couch, now several spaces closer to you rather than opposing ends, “It’s kind of hard to beat the ‘Luke, I am your father’ reveal,” his voice dips down to a deep tone, a fairly spot on impersonation, “But it was also nice seeing his origin story.”

“Plus Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are gorgeous,” you add, almost daring to lean over and bump shoulders with him. But you don’t. You keep what little space remains between the two of you.

“Of course,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “The eye candy is what gets you.”

“And the cool effects!”

“Right. Next you’re going to say you definitely watched for the plot, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And the plot’s name just happens to be Ewan.”

You bite down the grin that starts to ache your cheeks, because you’re not supposed to smile around Eddie this much. “Now you’re getting it.”

The hand holding the Darth Vader figurine suddenly thrusts out in your direction, and you find yourself jumping a bit. When you don’t take it, he waves it around a bit, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t bite, you know.”

“You said to not touch your shit.”

It’s a pathetic lie, you both know it. But he doesn’t know how scared you are to brush fingertips with him, how the way his arm being so close has electricity buzzing from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. One small shift, one outreached hand, and your skin would brush his.

It would surely be nuclear. An explosion with no survivors, least of all you.

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve disregarded that rule the entire time, why start being a goody two shoes now?” he teases.

Which is fine, except Eddie teases a certain way – with his entire body. His knee knocks into yours, he leans into your space, a boyish grin spreads over his lips. You’ve seen him dance around this kind of lighthearted conversation with everyone else in your friend group except you. It’s uncharted territory, and your heart nearly breaks out of your chest from its rapid racing.

You’re just lucky that there’s two layers of jeans between your knees. The nuclear explosion will have to wait for another day.

Instead of an answer, you reach out and grab the figurine nimbly by the small leg. Your fingertips narrowly evade Eddie’s and you’re eternally grateful and his arm retracts. You poke and prod, gently wiggling the red, flexible stick that serves as his lightsaber and pinch at the edges of his cape.

In your silence, Eddie speaks, “It’s not a crazy collectible or anything, like I said. It probably would have been more valuable to keep it in its packaging, but one time Wheeler brought his little sister over while they were in town, and she wanted to see him out of the box, so I took him out. You know Wheeler, right?”

You shake your head, inspecting the figurine even closer now. It still looks brand new; you’d never be able to tell that a child, presumably, had played with the ‘toy’.

“Oh,” Eddie looks taken back, faltering slightly, “Sorry, I- I just sort of assumed that…. You, uh…. You had met Steve’s children.”

“Oh!” your head shoots up from where your nose had been nearly pressed into the figure, taking in the detailing of the chest piece, “You mean Mike? I’ve heard about him, yeah. Just in passing, though.”

There’s more for Eddie to say, it’s clear in the way his mouth falls open with the corners quirked, but then you’re interrupted by a phone ringing.

Your phone.

Steve’s contact photo occupies the screen for the second time tonight, a ridiculous photo of him scowling at the camera in a yellow jumper while holding a can of pringles in front of him, one of his hands bringing a single chip to his pouting lips.

“Let me answer it,” Eddie insists, holding out his hand as you stare down at the phone, still chiming annoyingly.

“Were they supposed to call this often?” you ask, knowing well enough that Eddie didn’t have the answer.

His hand waves in impatience, and you don’t put up a fight as you let him take the phone and swipe the answering bar, focusing instead on the Darth Vader discarded into your lap as he puts the call on speaker.

“Hello?” Eddie answers in a chirpy tone.

“How many times do we have to te- hold on. Munson?” Steve starts off aggressive, but his tone melts into confusion, “Why the hell are you answering her phone?”

“Because I’ve murdered her,” he flatly replies, but his face doesn’t match his tone at all.

He fucking winks at you. Your grip on Darth Vader tightens until you’re afraid you're about to snap it.

“Not funny.”

“Not a joke.”

“Where is she, Eddie?” Steve sighs like an irritated parent, in no mood for games, “Please tell me you didn’t manage to make her lock herself in a room again.”

“I told you. She’s gone. Sacrificed to the Dark Lord or whatever. Just got to go dump her body in the lake-”

You shouldn’t joke along with him, but you still whisper the correction of, “The canals.”

“Sorry, I mean the canals.”

Another deep sigh. You can picture the way Steve was currently pinching the bridge of his nose at the two of you.

“I heard her, you idiot. Now that we know you’re both clearly alive and well…. Where the hell is our photo proof?”

You both share a look, and you quickly mouth, already?

Eddie shrugs and mouths back, I guess.

“We lost track of time,” you finally say out loud, still locked in eye contact with Eddie. His brown eyes are surprisingly captivating, several autumn shades all woven together. Burnt orange leaves, red apples, brown sweaters. You never thought you’d be able to see a season in someone’s irises, yet here you were, picturing it clear as day. “Let us hang up and we’ll send the photo.”

Steve starts to speak, but Eddie’s thumb is quick to end the call. The moment your lock screen stares back at both of you, you look at the time.

7:41. Shit.

“Oops,” Eddie whispers as he hands the phone back over, “They really gave us quite the grace period that time.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, quickly opening your damn camera app. “So, how do we want to do this one?”

Eddie thinks for a moment before he launches himself back to his side of the couch, and motions for you to toss him your phone.

And once again, you put your faith in him, not even hesitating this time.

It happens naturally; you both mirror each other, drawing up your knees, your sock-clad toes bumping firmly against one another. Your back is supported by the worn arm behind you, similar to how Eddie’s is, as you face him.

He quickly angles the camera towards you, sticking a hand out into the frame while raising his middle finger. You don’t know what to do, so one hand holds up the Darth Vader as the other mimics flipping him off.

A soft click from your phone. The photo’s taken, and you’re not even sure if you were smiling.

“Trade,” he leans forward, one hand holding out your phone, the other reaching out for Darth Vader.

You oblige, and go through the same process for his photo. His white socks contrast your black ones, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards no matter how hard of a line he presses them into. You can’t look at him directly, and settle for watching him through the screen as you hit the small grey button to snap the photo.

Just as quickly as he had shoved away from you, he’s back at your side, watching you send off the photos to the group chat with a thumbs up emoji. You take a deep breath, scanning over the pair of photos until it’s confirmed that they’re delivered, and lock your phone. Your brows are furrowed in your reflection staring back at you through the black screen.

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours?” Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind.

No, you don’t. No matter how wrong this levity with Eddie feels, no matter how uncomfortable it is each time you remember that he’s meant to be the enemy and not someone to share laughter and smiles with, you don’t want to waste these remaining twenty hours being miserable.

“What’s up?” Eddie’s actual voice echoes in real time as you continue to stare at your reflection.

“Just thinking,” you grunt. The thought of admitting your decision to Eddie is much more intimidating than simply acknowledging it to yourself.

“Dangerous.”

Instead of quipping something rude back, you decide to be vulnerable with Eddie. You decide to crack yourself open just a small bit, just as he had done microscopically when he spoke of his collection of items. It’s a dangerous gamble, and you don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it.

“You were right, earlier,” you force the words out, fighting the way they try to cling onto your tongue and remain safely in your throat.

“About… what?” He looks distrusting, and for good reason. He said plenty of things earlier - you could be preparing to remind him of any number of rude things he’d spewed.

“About keeping up the miserable act,” you explain, turning your head to him and abandoning the phone, “You were right. I don’t want to be miserable this entire time. It… It goes by faster when we’re not about to strangle each other, believe it or not.”

You swear you see his shoulders sag in relief. “Well, yeah, I could have told you that. I did tell you that, actually.”

“Shut up,” you force a scowl, “My point is… I don’t know, maybe, we could try to- try to just- we could be-”

“Civil?” he finishes the sentence you stumble over.

You nod, “Yeah. We could be civil.”

The word feels foreign on your tongue. Civility was not something you’d ever considered with Eddie, but the last hour had proven it to be possible.

“Okay,” he nods along with you. He turns his entire body to face you, knees once again bumping as he sticks out a hand for you to shake, “Deal. We will try to be civil the rest of the time.”

“Civil,” you repeat yourself again, more sure this time, still staring at his offered hand.

An olive branch. The opportunity to work together to survive the next twenty hours. The opportunity for his bare skin against yours.

You think again of nuclear explosions and pulsing electricity, of open chests and matching scarlets, of smashing glasses against walls and ruined parties, of wounds healing over in scar tissues as they glow a gentle pink.

Civil. You wonder if that’s one of the words they’ll include on your gravestone as you reach out your hand and let Eddie’s palm meet yours.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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#twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #let's see if i can get it to post in one try this time

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oreolemur · 2 months

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Desperation- Choso Fanfic

Receiving letters from Choso sent chills down your spine. He kept trying to confess his love for you after you helped him fight off his bullies. The man was obsessed with you, but you didn't want him. You sat in bed, reading the numerous letters he wrote to you. The letters detailed his feelings in great detail. The one from this morning mentioned how much he missed you and that he couldn't wait to see you after school. Another from a few days ago mentioned how he thought about you all the time and wanted to be with you forever. There were several more with similar sentiments from the past weeks. "Why does he keep writing to me?", you said to yourself. "Does he not get the message?”. You had told him several times that you didn't want to be with him, but he didn't seem to get it. You tried to be civil by still talking to him in school, but he took any small interaction as a sign that he still had a chance. You tossed all the letters in the trash and headed to bed, trying to forget about Choso and his weird obsession with you. You fell asleep quickly, hoping that tomorrow would go by without any drama from him.

The next day as you were walking in the hallway, you saw Choso. "Oh no", you said. You tried to walk the other way, but he saw you before you could get the chance to avoid him. Choso spotted you immediately and started walking towards you. You tried to make a quick escape, but he had you cornered. He walked right up to you and said, "Hi." in a low tone. "H-hey", you said, trying not to sound weirded out by him. Choso's gaze was intense, making you feel uncomfortable. The way he stood so close to you was also unsettling. You tried to keep your tone friendly, even though your heart was beating fast. You hoped he couldn't hear how hard you were breathing. "So...I...ugh got your letters", you said. Choso nodded and said, "Yes, I wrote them for you." His voice was steady, but there was a hint of desperation in his tone. He continued, "I was just hoping that if I wrote enough letters, you might change your mind”.

You decided to confess to him again. "I appreciate you having feelings for me, but...I'm not interested in having a relationship". Choso's face fell as he heard your words. The sadness was clear on his face, but he tried not to show it too much. He nodded and said, "I understand. If you feel that way, I respect your decision." His voice had a slight crack, showing his disappointment. Despite the rejection, he kept his composure and said, "Is it okay if we still stay friends?". You nodded. "Of course. That's all I want". Choso gave a small smile at your response. Clearly, he had wanted a different outcome, but at least he could keep you in his life, even if only as a friend. He said, "Thank you for being honest with me. It means a lot." Despite the rejection, he was trying to stay positive and continue to talk to you.

You were glad that Choso understood where you were coming from, but you couldn't shake this feeling that something bad was going to happen. There was something about Choso's reaction that made your gut instinct act up. You couldn't help but wonder if he truly accepted what you told him, or if he was just hiding his true feelings. Something inside you told you to be careful around him, but you couldn't exactly explain it. You decided to change the subject and hope your gut was wrong. After talking with him for a minute, you and Choso shared your goodbyes. "I'll see you around, ok", you said. Choso nodded and said, "Of course. See you around." Despite the awkward nature of the conversation, he appeared to be taking the rejection well and was being civil toward you. You couldn't help but feel relieved that it didn't end in a worse way. You were still a little uneasy around him, but you brushed it off and started walking away.

❤~Time Skip~❤

Later that night, Choso was in his dorm, doing his homework. His mind was still flooded with rejection and he didn't like it. The man took out his special book that was filled with photos of you. He had been taking pictures of you without your knowledge, and keeping them here. He stared at the pictures, the emotions from earlier flooding back to him. The rejection and how you didn't want to be with him hurt him, which only made him want you more. Choso continued to stare at the pictures, growing increasingly obsessed with you. His voice grew cold as he said, "She's mine and mine only." His obsession with you had grown stronger, and he wasn't going to let you slip away. He was determined to make you his, no matter the cost.

Choso spent the rest of the night obsessing over you, planning ways to express to you how much you meant to him. He was no longer content to sit back and let you get away from him. He wanted to show you that he was serious about his feelings for you and wasn't going to let anything get in his way. "I have to have her", he said. "I have to make her love me". Choso continued to mutter to himself about how he needed to have you, how he needed to make you love him. You were all he could think about, and not having you would be unbearable for him. He was completely consumed by his obsession with you, and this thought made him grow even more determined to make you his. Choso decided that he needed to send one final letter to you, but this time it would be a warning rather than a confession of his feelings. This letter would make it clear to you how serious he is about you.

Meanwhile, you spent the night in your dorm, getting ready for bed. "I'm glad he understands", you said to yourself. "Hopefully those creepy letters will stop now". You tried to put the whole situation out of your mind and hoped that he truly accepted your rejection. You were tired and just wanted to get some sleep, but something deep inside you told you to stay alert. "Why do I keep getting this strange feeling?". You tried to ignore the feeling, dismissing it as just your imagination running away with you. You crawled into bed, trying to get some rest, but the feeling continued to plague you. You tossed and turned, unable to relax or get comfortable. The feeling kept gnawing at you, making it hard to get comfortable or sleep. Just as you were about to head to bed, there was a loud knock at your door, which startled you. It was late in the night, and you weren't expecting anyone to visit you at this hour. You said, "Who is it?" but received no answer. You got off your bed, opening the door cautious as you wondered who could be there at this late hour.

You cautiously opened the door and saw no one there. To your surprise, there was a letter on the ground that caught your attention. You saw that it had your name written on it and picked it up carefully, hoping it wasn't another love letter. You examined the outside of the envelope, then decided to open it. “I can't keep ignoring my feelings for you. I can't just accept the way things are and move on. I love you too much to just let you go. If you won't be with me willingly, then I'll have to make you mine. I know the best way to make you love me, and I'm going to use it. I'll see you soon ❤”. You were filled with fear as you read the letter. Choso's words sounded like a threat, and it caused your heart to drop. You realized that he wasn't going to accept rejection, and he was going to use some sort of method to make you his. The "best way" and "make you love me" part of the sentence was particularly eerie.

It almost sounded like he was going to use force or something sinister to get your affection. Your heart was beating fast, and you felt an icy chill go down your spine. You rip up the letter in a fit of frustration and sorrow. You couldn't believe that a simple rejection would cause someone to become so obsessed or even resort to threats. You didn't know what would motivate Choso to send a letter like that, but it didn't matter. All you could think about was his words, and how he planned to make you love him. You felt a surge of fear as you thought about what his "method" for making you love him might be.

You made sure to avoid Choso for the next few days, not wanting to interact with him. You didn't see him during your shared classes and decided that him not being there was a good thing. Your mind was still focused on that ominous letter, and you were anxious about what he might do if he saw you again. You tried to stay on your guard and told yourself to take precautions when going to your dorm or anywhere else where you might bump into him. You went about your daily routine for the next two weeks and didn't see Choso once. Even though you were glad that he wasn't around, you couldn't help but feel that it was strange that you hadn't seen him at all. You had shared classes with him and would normally see him pretty often, so it felt odd that he was nowhere to be found. You kept wondering where he was, but you were also relieved that you didn't have to deal with his obsession for the time being.

❤~That Night~❤

You were walking back to your dorm one night, hoping that the walk would be uneventful. You felt uneasy for some reason, and a sense that you were being followed suddenly crept over you. You stopped, looking behind you only to see no one there. No one was visible that you could see, but something in you told you otherwise. You got an uneasy feeling, like someone was watching you. "I'm probably just tired", you said, nervously. You tried to convince yourself that it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but the feeling of being watched refused to subside. You felt tense and nervous, as if someone was hiding somewhere. You couldn't see anyone directly watching you, but you had a strong sense that someone or something was following you. The sense of paranoia grew stronger, and you found yourself looking over your shoulder and around you constantly.

Just as you were about to open the door to your dorm, someone ran up behind you, putting a cloth over your mouth and nose. The sudden attack took you by surprise, and you struggled to breathe as you were forcefully pulled into a nearby alleyway. Your attacker was quick and stealthy, and you couldn't see who it was. All you could do was struggle and try to breath while the cloth was over your mouth. You continued to struggle and try to get away from your attacker as the cloth on your face made it harder and harder to breathe. You could feel your strength beginning to wane as the oxygen deprivation took its toll on you. After you start to pass out, your vision begins to get blurry and your body becomes weak as you struggle to remain conscious. Choso looks down at your unconscious body with a grin on his face. He looks completely unhinged and crazed, his mind consumed by his obsession with you. He drags your body back to his dorm, where he plans to carry out his plan.

You slowly begin to regain consciousness. You're not sure how much time has passed, but you eventually begin to gain clarity. Your head is pounding and your vision is still blurry. Your body feels weak, and you're not sure where you are. You struggle to move and open your eyes, your breathing labored. As you come to your senses, the first thing you see is Choso standing in front of you. "Ch-Choso?", you said, weakly. Choso glances down at you as he hears your weak voice, a sinister grin spreading across his face. He looks down at you with cold eyes as he leans in closer, his face just inches from yours. "You're awake," he says in a calm but cold tone. Choso walks to his door and locks it, seemingly not caring that he just locked you in with him. The only sound in the room is you panting and his breathing. He steps closer to you, his body looming and threatening. "I'm going to make you mine," he says in a low voice, his eyes filled with obsession and insanity.

"What are you talking about?", you questioned. Choso continues to stand over you, his eyes fixed on yours. "I've decided that if you won't be my girlfriend willingly, I'm going to have to do this the hard way." He says calmly, not seeming angry or agitated in the slightest. He leans down even closer to you until your heads are mere inches apart. "I'm going to make you love me”. You looked at him confused. "You can't just force me to love you". Choso ignores your words and leans even closer to you until his face is just inches from yours. "Of course, I can't. But there are ways to make people feel things they otherwise wouldn't”. The way he said those last words made it sound like a threat. "It's simple, really. I just need to put you through an experience that will break you down and make you love me”.

Choso's face remained calm and unExpressionate as he took off his clothes, revealing his muscular body. His body looked incredibly fit and toned, something he's probably been doing to impress you. Instead of making you feel attracted, the sight only made you feel even more scared. He ignored your words as he looked down at you with cold eyes. He continued to strip, stripping his pants and his top. As you desperately tried to scoot away, he grabbed your ankle and pulled you close to him. You found yourself unable to move and were helplessly trapped as he pulled you closer to him. He said nothing and just looked at you, a hint of madness in his gaze. He positioned himself, between your legs, reaching up your skirt. “Please, Choso”, you whined.

He pulled and tugged on your panties, ripping them off. The cold air in his room hit your bare pussy. You tried to close your legs, but Choso stood firm between them. His lower half moved closer too, making his cock hit your cunt. He rubbed his dick against you, feeling how warm and wet you were. “Choso”, you whine again. “Please don’t do this. You don’t have to do this”. He pushed you further onto the bed, getting on top of you. “You know, y/n…”, he paused, shoving himself in you. You gasped at the sudden thrust, feeling your cervix breaking. Blood trickled down your thighs as Choso proceeded to fuck you. “I read your diary”. You tried to listen to him, but the pain kept distracting you. “I read all about how you fantasize about being raped and toyed around with”, he continued. “If that’s something you like…”, he grunted. “I can give that to you”.

He threw your leg over his shoulder, fucking your tight cunt harder. Your body went limp as you laid underneath Choso. You felt disgusted. The pain you first felt started to turn into pleasure. “Why am I starting to like this?”, you asked yourself. “All that stuff I wrote was a lie. A mere thought I had when I was depressed”. Choso’s dick slid in and out of you at a slow but medium pace. His dick was huge, stretching your walls open with each hard thrust. His face was red and his breath was heavy. He enjoyed the power he had over you as he forced you to take him. “I know you like this”, he whispered. He leaned into you, grabbing your throat. He slightly choked you as he quickened his pace. “I love you so much, y/n”, he said in your ear. “I don’t care how much I hurt you, as long as you love me that’s all that matters”. He fucked you faster and harder, soon dropping his warm cum inside you. He kept himself in you for a hot minute, making sure that every drop spilled into your womb. “I hate you”, you said under your breath. Choso didn’t care. He knew that this was only the beginning.

❤~One month later~❤

It had been a month since that dreadful night had happened. Choso’s attempt at making you love him didn’t work, but he still never gave up on you. He kept a watchful eye on you, meeting up with you every chance he got, which was every day. You couldn’t tell your friends about you and Choso’s forced relationship. You knew it wouldn’t end well. “I love you”, Choso said, laying on top of you. He just got done fucking you. You looked up at the ceiling with soulless eyes. He kissed your neck, marking your soft flesh. “Your skin is so soft”, he complimented. He looked into your eyes as he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Till death do us part, my love”, he smiled.

#tw noncon #dark writing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen smut #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso

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fayes-fics · 4 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 6 - J'ai Dansé Avec L'Amour

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none, really… some kissing and some awkwardness

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Well, this isn't the wedding yet, but it's them both dealing, rather awkwardly, with the idea of getting married as they grapple with their attraction to each other. The wedding will be the next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Eloise whispers into the inky blackness.

“What other choice do I have?” you whisper back, unwilling to admit how weirdly calm you are about the scheme.

You are lying in the spare room of Solène’s sister, Marie and her husband Jérôme’s cottage. Sharing the compact double bed, shoulders touching as you converse quietly. It must be after 2am. Benedict chivalrously insisted on taking the sofa downstairs despite being stuck on yours in Paris for the last few days.

“I still say we should find some forgers,” Eloise opines; you can hear the shrug in her tone. “You shouldn’t have to go through with a marriage to my brother just to escape.”

“It’s fine,” you placate, waving your hand dismissively, although likely unseen.

“What about Stanley?”

“I’m sure he will understand when I can eventually get home,” you fib.

There is a brief lapse into silence, and outside somewhere, an owl hoots.

“You know we may have to bribe someone to do this regardless, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” you frown, turning your head to face her.

“There are rules about residency for French civil marriages, and you’ll need identification neither of you have with you, like birth certificates,” Eloise points out.

“Ohhh…” you stutter, feeling sheepish you didn’t even know that.

“Although… Jérôme is the mayor of Montivilliers…” Eloise offers thoughtfully. “And he is sleeping just through that wall…”

“He can marry us?” You’re unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

“If he’s willing to overlook a few things… yes… he could marry you in the Town Hall.”

Internally, you are celebrating even as you try to temper your excitement.

“Then, for my sake, let’s hope he is,” you answer, attempting to sound gravely concerned.

Eloise hums sleepily in response, and it’s your last words before she drops off. You lay awake for what seems like hours, staring up at the beam of moonglow on the whitewashed ceiling. A myriad fluttering in your stomach—a cautious optimism that this could work, a strange excitement at the thought of marrying Benedict, and a vague dread that your family could still be upset if it all works out.

—

A light, dewy mist lingers in the garden outside the kitchen window as you sip coffee the following morning. A moment of solitary contemplation that has you considering a telegram to your family but deciding against it. Until you know if you can get out of the country, it seems pointless to make them more concerned than they already are.

“Dress shopping?” Eloise asks over a yawn as she plops into the seat next to you at the rustic wooden table in the kitchen, breaking your reverie. “For the wedding…” she adds when you frown nonplussed.

Oh.

“I, umm, was just going to use one I already have, to be honest. That off-white silk tea dress?”

Eloise cocks her head to the side in thought. “Hmm, that might just work - that can be your something old. I have a little faux fur stole you can wear to dress it up - something borrowed. I know you have some powder blue underwear, so we only need something new!”

“You believe in that stuff?” you frown, taking a sip. It seems so anachronistic for her. You also decide not to ask how she knows about your underwear.

“I know it's not…” she leans in, likely worried about prying ears, mouthing the word ‘real’, before continuing at her regular volume, “...but best not to tempt fate,” she raises a pointed eyebrow, silently reminding you of what is at stake.

“Good point,” you concede as she gets up to grab some fruit.

“Your humble sage at your service,” she jests, taking a comedic bow.

“But we still have to ask Jérôme…”

“Ask me what?” a genial, heavily accented booming voice rings out from the doorway.

“This one and my brother have gone and fallen in love,” Eloise explains, rolling her eyes. “The soppy idiots want to get married in France as soon as possible. I don't suppose you could help, could you? It would be their dream come true and so very romantic, non?”

She appears to be piling on the theatrics, but you see that winning smile, the one she deploys whenever she manipulates an unsuspecting man to get her way. Sometimes, you swear it is almost too easy to navigate the world as an attractive Bridgerton.

“Pour vous, ma petit chou-fleur, peut-être…” he responds, an avuncular glint in his eye. It is evident from this interaction and the previous evening when you arrived that Marie and Jérôme have spent time with Eloise, likely in Paris with Solène.

“Merci Jérôme!” she celebrates, kissing his cheek as he affectionately chuckles. “Demain?” she adds cheekily.

“Mon dieu Eloise,” he exclaims as he grabs a croissant, “C'est très bientôt!”

You try to listen in as they rapid-fire converse in French, but you only follow along with every few words, maybe something about paperwork, but really, you are not sure. It mostly seems fond exasperation on Jérôme’s part, so you sit hopeful, just as Benedict wanders in.

“Ah, the other love bird!” Eloise cuts away from their chat. “I know you want to get married so quickly, but please do not make out too much in front of Jérôme!” she titters pointedly at Benedict, her eyes cutting from him to you.

Benedict seems to cotton on very quickly, and you startle as he leans down and brushes a featherlight kiss onto your cheek.

“Bon matin, mon amour,” he rumbles, his minty breath warm, causing goosebumps to break out over your arms.

“Morning, my love,” you whisper back stutteringly, the words almost tacky on your tongue, your mouth suddenly so dry. Your eyes meet, and it's the closest you have ever been, captivated by the tiny flecks of colour in his iris. He doesn't look away, and you seem unable.

“Oh oui, je le vois, l'amour vrai… ” Jérôme mutters quietly across the room. “I will see what I can do,” he offers in English as you finally tear your eyes away, him giving you a nod before he takes his leave.

“Well done!” Eloise enthuses quietly with a big thumbs-up gesture once Jérôme has left the room. “Really convincing!” she adds before twirling out of the room with an apple jammed in her mouth.

“Sorry about that…” Benedict offers, a little flustered.

“No, please…” you can't think of anything else to say, almost tongue-tied as you replay his kiss on your cheek like a looping projector reel, wanting to add ‘do it again’, a tingle still lingering on your skin.

There are a few beats of awkward silence where he seems on the precipice of saying something, but you are almost afraid to hear it, as if worried he wants to conjure an excuse to back out.

“I…I need to buy my something new!” you exclaim, jumping up and scurrying out of the room, leaving Benedict mildly perplexed about what that might even mean.

—

After a successful trip into Le Havre, where you and Eloise found your ‘something new’ - a pair of ivory Mary Janes that will complete your outfit - the day ends with Jérôme and Marie taking you all to a local restaurant. A delicious meal of many courses with flowing carafes of wine under the bright red canopy outside. It turns into one of those late nights with convivial conversation and bonding with strangers.

A band strikes up in the cobbled square, and after a few numbers, Jérôme drags Marie up to dance as the three of you cheer.

“Les tourtereaux!!” Jérôme exclaims after the song ends, gesturing for you and Benedict to join them on their makeshift dance floor.

“Non..non!” you protest, gesturing a no with your arms and laughing, a languid feeling in your bones from good food, drink and conversation.

But it appears he won't take no for an answer, and as Marie giggles and applauds, Jérôme marches over and grabs you both by the elbow, hauling you to your feet.

“Danse!” he commands.

You and Benedict exchange slightly nervous looks but emboldened by wine; then you gasp as a strong arm wraps around your back, and your other hand slides into his.

“Just go with it,” he breathes into your hair, and suddenly, you are spinning, the stars above you twinkling, as he leads you expertly in a swing dance.

“Mr Bridgerton, you can dance!” you exclaim in blithe amusement, clinging to him as you move together in a balletic union.

“As can you, Mrs Bridgerton!” he peels carefree.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you lose your footing. Benedict has to grab hold and haul you back upright before you collapse onto the cobbles.

“Sorry…” he blusters, his arms still around you, “I…I wasn't thinking…”

“No, no. That will indeed be my name…” you stumble, almost as if that is only just occurring to you now. “I'm just getting used to it, that's all,” you lie, knowing that is not why you lost your footing.

He seems to accept that with a nod, and after a beat, you begin to move again, tentatively, Until the wine takes over and you are once again both giggling and dancing, his arm a strong brace around your back as you move together for many minutes, a joy fizzing in your veins.

At one point, you glance over and see Eloise with an odd expression on her face before she orders a drink from the waiter, but Benedict whips you around, and you get lost in the dance and in him. The feel of him wrapped around you at once safe and exhilarating.

“Kiss!” comes the yell from Jérôme as the song ends.

“You know, he's not going to shut up until we do it,” you raise, a little breathless from the dancing.

Without you having to say anything else, Benedict’s hands grasp around your waist, and you are lifted off the ground, taller than him. Then he tilts his head up and captures your lips with his.

Time stops.

The feeling is like an explosion and a perfect calm silence all at once. His lips don't open, but they don't need to - even this gentle kiss is a soft, sensual plushness that obliterates all your thoughts. A lingering tang of wine on his slightly dampened lips that you want to lick off, a plunge of lust in your belly that has you fighting the urge to wrap your legs around his hips and open your mouth, demanding a real kiss.

His hands slide around your back in a gentle cage as he lowers you to your feet. What upends you is the breathtaking look in his eye when he finally pulls away, pupils blown, face soft and full of yearning. You could never tire of that look.

“Get a room!” Eloise yells, and there is an uncharitable tart edge to it that breaks the spell and makes you look over at her. She appears much more inebriated than she was before.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your hands still wrapped around Benedict’s biceps, warm through his shirt sleeves.

“I think she ordered absinthe, so maybe not,” he answers, and you feel a pang of sadness as he releases his hold and gestures gentlemanly for you to walk ahead, to return to the table, the moment lost.

Half an hour later, Benedict and Jérôme are on either side of Eloise, helping her back into the cottage, much worse for wear. They get her to the sofa, where she promptly passes out and begins to snore lightly. Marie covers her in a blanket, and you realise it's unlikely you will be able to move her tonight.

“Well, you two will have to share the bed. But do not worry, I shall not tell your families,” Jérôme winks. “I can’t say Marie and I were saints before our marriage,” he adds with a tap on his nose and an uproarious chuckle.

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. Panic, excitement, and apprehension all bubbling up inside—a volcanic eruption in your gut. You trust him not to take advantage; it’s yourself you don't trust.

Jérôme wraps an arm around both of your shoulders, red wine heavy on his breath “Oui, I will marry you tomorrow, mes amis. I can overlook some rules for a true love like yours.”

With that, he takes his leave, with you and Benedict left looking uncomfortably at each other, unsure if you should celebrate. That feeling remains as he suggests you go up first and get ready for bed, and once you are nervously tucked under the covers as he enters from the bathroom, those broad shoulders framed with a white t-shirt and the same bottoms he wore in Paris when you watched him sleep.

“I really wish I'd packed a proper pyjama set,” he sighs ruefully as he approaches the other side of the bed and slips under the covers, seemingly arranging himself right at the far side. “I'm also so sorry about Eloise landing us in this situation. I can't believe she was that irresponsible,” he adds with his back turned but an unmistakable tinge of irritation in his tone.

Even then, it’s a small bed, and you can feel his body heat radiating under the covers.

“You don't have to cling to the edge,” you offer hesitantly, “we are to be married after all…”

The last words are a whisper that sounds almost wounded, and he twists over, a look of surprise crowding his features.

“I am merely being respectful...” he replies cautiously.

“I know…” it's barely audible, and you can’t look at him.

The overwhelming awkwardness makes your chest ache, your hands wringing together nervously under the covers. What feels like mere moments ago, you were swept into his arms, and he was kissing you as if your lives depended upon it. And now this… the juxtaposition of reality and the fairytale you both act so well draws a lump to your throat.

“This whole situation is so odd,” you confess quietly, unable to be anything but honest with him.

“I know… I'm so sorry it has come to this.”

You have no idea if he means tonight, the marriage or even life in general, in a war that could come to your doorstep any day.

“I don’t regret anything,” you volunteer after a beat.

“Neither do I…” his earnest whisper makes something inside you crack open, your palm itching to squeeze his hand.

Instead, you exchange soft goodnights, and you lay stock still for a long time, backs towards each other, feeling at once too close and a million miles apart.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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foone · 1 year

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My one bit of advice I think every gamer should hear:

GO PLAY OUTER WILDS.

Seriously. It is easily one of my top 5 games of all time, and that's mainly because I'm being cagey about if it's the #1, because it probably is.

It's a game where you're a little alien who is taking their first flight into space, in their little spaceship. You go to space and find a mystery, and have to figure it out.

It's a game entirely about learning things about the world you're in: it's a tiny solar system modeled amazingly well, with varied planetary environments, archaeology, and quantum fun.

It's a game that's hard to talk about without spoiling, because it's about solving the mysteries. There used to be some other aliens here, they're long gone. What happened to them? Their whole society was built around trying to find something: what was it? Did they find it? And there's a weird disastrous event that keeps happening, why? Can you stop it? Should you stop it? Is it connected to the other weird things that keep happening? What happened to that ice planet that exploded with vines? One of the astronauts who came before you was the best pilot who ever lived, but they vanished. What happened to them? And why can you sometimes hear their harmonica over the radio when you point it at your own planet?

The game is wonderful and non-linear and the most unique approach to a Metroidvania I've seen years: it's basically "what if we did the Metroidvania idea but with no items or power ups? What if the thing that you got to unlock new areas WAS INSIDE THE PLAYER'S HEAD?"

Because you don't unlock the next area by picking up the high-jump boots, you unlock it by learning something new. Now you can do something you didn't realize you could before, but now you know you can.

And that's only one of the amazing concepts they stuffed in this game. The itemless Metroidvania, the tiny simulated solar system, the quantum mechanics... Each of these alone could be enough to carry an indie game. They stuffed them all in one game combined with a great story, and that's in a gamewith relatively little dialogue!

There's like a dozen people to talk to, but you spent a lot of time reading conversations left by the long-gone aliens. You get to know them, what they were working for, how they interacted, and what happened to them, thousands of years later. It's less the bioshock style audio-logs, and more like going over bits of ancient writing, making connections and correlations from the fragments you can find.

And don't get me wrong, this might sound like this game is going to be dry and boring: it is so very not. It is a game about mysteries in the void of space, the death of a civilization, and the potentially world-ending dangers that face a living one, and even bigger concepts. It could so easily be a cosmic horror, about the cold death of space and the universe itself, and the nihilism of realizing that even a race that could cross the gap between the stars and bend spacetime to their will... They too died out. If they couldn't make it, what hope do you have, in your little spaceship that's primarily made of WOOD?

And yet... The game is always engaging. It has a few scares, and space is never a safe place to be, but it maintains a sense of humor and wonder. Yes, the universe can be scary, but it's also amazing. And you're just a little salamander-guy who wants to see it all, and figure out all the things. Maybe you don't know something yet, but tomorrow is a new day, and you can go blasting off to another planet, find some writing in a city suspended upside down over a black hole, try to fly into the core of a water planet, dodge giant anglerfish inside the warped space of an exploded planet, and try to explore an ancient city that's slowly filling with sand. It is a game about Things Ending, and it refuses to give into despair. It is one of the most relentlessly optimistic games I have ever played.

And the experience of playing it is so unique. This isn't a game where you could watch a letsplay and only get spoiled on some plot points, it's a game where the fundamental gameplay loop is about learning things. You should try it for yourself. It's got hints and many different avenues to explore (and it even keeps track of them for you, in case you forget!), so you don't have to worry much about getting stuck for too long. You can always put aside a "puzzle" and come back later, after you've learned more. (I put puzzle in quotes because it's not exactly a puzzle game. It's more of a mystery game. You aren't solving a logic puzzle or putting the pegs into the right holes, you're asking "Why is this like this? Where does this go? What is this for?" and then figuring that out from clues)

It's like 25$ on steam, and you can get it for Playstation and Xboxes as well (sadly no Switch version. They were working on one but it seems that version has stalled, with no announced release date)

You can probably get it for like 10$ if you're patient and wait for a sale.

One final note: there's also a DLC. The DLC is fully self-contained, in that you won't miss anything playing the main game without it. It basically adds a huge side-area to the game which goes and fills in some gaps in the history, explains some things, and introduces some more variety to the Outer Wilds universe.

It's utterly amazing, too. It's basically Outer Wilds 2 in everything but name, but it's totally fine to just grab the base game and play that. You can always come back and grab the DLC later if you want more Outer Wilds.

Seriously. To sum up, Outer Wilds is one of the greatest games ever made, it won a ton of awards, and it should have won more. They should invent more gaming awards just to give to Outer Wilds. This is one of the games that is going to be talked about in future "history of gaming" classes and put on lists of the 50 most groundbreaking and influential games, alongside things like Myst and King's Quest and Zork and Mass Effect. It's just that good, that groundbreaking.

#Outer Wilds

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atinylittlepain · 2 months

Text

Part Two

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 5.1k

chapter content info | 18+ little angst, couples counseling, just two tired people trying to figure out the tangle of their relationship together

a/n | part two is here, and i'd just like to say thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part - i know this isnt the usual peepaw fare, so thanks for giving her a chance - and also big thank you to @wannab-urs for beta-ing this bad boy <3

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This is not a failure. She is not failing. They are not failing. Every Thursday at four o’clock she shuts her laptop and locks her office and stops in the bathroom at work, silently repeats these things to herself in her mind while she rubs her fingers at smudged mascara in the bathroom mirror. Like a mantra, though she’s not sure she’s fully bought into it yet. Because the truth is, she has had plenty of conversations with plenty of girlfriends that, really, they shouldn’t have been having about other girlfriends, not in the room with us girlfriends who, did you hear, started going to therapy and, did you hear, started going to therapy with their, oh no, husbands. Yes, she has been the bitch who has made jokes about death knells and a marriage’s last gasp for breath, jokes about the husband having the emotional range of a goldfish, and the wife being so up the husband’s ass she should give him a colonoscopy while she’s at it. She’s not really making jokes like those anymore.

She’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing this Thursday at four o’clock. When they first went to Vicky (LMFT, for the record) her fundamental decree had been a period of full separation. Sixteen years, she had asked, and they had nodded, and she had said whoa boy, yeah, y’all need to back off each other before we do anything else. If Paula Dean had a penchant for self-help instead of butter, she’d be something like Vicky. And so, with all the care of a drill sergeant delivering commands, or a mechanic running a diagnostic on a fucked-up car, Vicky had told them how this is going to go. An apartment, she said, don’t care which one of you lives in it. Minimal contact between sessions, right, keep it civil, right, this isn’t for forever, right. So Joel got an apartment, and Tommy helped him move all the furniture in the basement with admittedly minimal, but still present, wariness, and for the last four weeks they’ve been doing everything their beloved herr-therapist tells them. She supposes it’s working, although you can’t really do much fighting when you only see the other person for ninety minutes every Thursday so, the results might be confounded, actually.

“Hey there.” Hey there? What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those words to her, ever, maybe not to anyone actually. He feels a little insane, a little itchy under the skin, mouth full of cotton, brain too, because they’re not supposed to be doing this, not really. The first time she’s seen the apartment, or, well, the doorway of the apartment, doesn’t really seem interested in stepping further inside, running her curled palm up and down the strap of her purse and right, not here for that. He shuts the door behind him and then they’re on their way to therapy because it’s four o’clock on Thursday and this is what they do now at four o’clock on Thursday.

“Thanks again. I didn’t think my car would still be in the shop today.”

“Oh of course, you said it’s a transmission leak?”

“Yeah, the bad, expensive kind that’s above my paygrade. Guy said they’re still waiting on a part for it.”

“Well I’m off work tomorrow if you need a ride anywhere.”

“Vicky’ll get pissed.”

“If she finds out. Are you gonna tell on me to Vicky?” It’s a joke, they can joke, right? She laughs a little on the end of her words to make it clear, hey, it’s a joke, awkward and out of touch and unsure of what the rules are. But he offers a breath of a laugh, at least, fine, it’s fine, they’re fine, and now they’re silent driving to Vicky’s office.

Should he ask her how her week has been? If the kitchen sink is still leaking? He’s not sure. Not sure about any of it, really. Every week, Vicky asks them how they think they’re doing and Cass doesn’t even hesitate. Good, she says. Not fine, not okay, but good, usually with a sure, terse nod. It takes him a little longer to find the right word to describe how he’s doing. Not sure about that either, but it’s definitely not good. Some things are better, sure, easier not to argue when under foot, easier not to remember all the ghosts they’ve built up around themselves. But at the most basic level, he misses her, even misses arguing with her, in a perpetual state of missing something, walking around and wondering if he left his wallet at home, or if he remembered to call a client about a new build, wondering if he’s missing something essential, a limb or an organ he didn’t know about. No, none of that. Missing something else.

“You’re not wearing your ring.” She flexes her left hand over the steering wheel in response, her very bare ring finger making him feel a quick pinch of something he’ll call anger, though it’s probably something else entirely.

“No, Vicky advised I try not wearing it during the separation.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you to do that?”

“Joel.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re swearing.”

“Well, why didn’t she say the same thing to me?”

“Maybe because I told her this is how you would react.”

“I think I’m having a pretty normal reaction to it, actually.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just for now.”

“Right.”

“It is.”

“Seems like a strange thing to advise someone to do when they’ve been married for nearly two decades.” She parks outside of the office complex that Vicky works in, lets out a long sigh through her nose and doesn’t spare him a glance as she reaches around to the backseat and pulls her purse up front, producing her ring from somewhere deep inside of it and sliding it back on her finger.

“There, are you happy now?”

“Why the hell were you keeping it in your purse?”

“Oh my god, really?”

“That’s a real easy way to lose it is all I’m saying.” The truth is, she’s been keeping it in her purse in order to have easy access to it. Like a pulsepoint, sometimes she just needs to know it’s there, reaching into her purse underneath her desk and yep, still there, still okay. Sometimes she doesn’t get through a whole day without putting it back on. Like reflex, like ghost limb aching. But she’s not about to tell him that.

“Do not bring this up with Vicky.”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know we drove here together.”

“You’re that worried about what Vicky thinks?”

“She’s our therapist, I’m a healthy and appropriate amount worried about what Vicky thinks.”

“You know she’s not the arbiter of marriage just because she has a couple of degrees, right?”

“Really, the arbiter of marriage?”

“Are you doing that thing you do, is that what this is?”

“What thing?”

“Cass.”

“What thing?”

“Are you trying to win therapy?” Fuck him. No, really, fuck him. He’s doing that thing, his thing to her thing, half a smile in the passenger’s seat like he’s got her. Awful, of course he’s got her, smug and sure in his getting her. She doesn’t answer his question, knowing that her silence is an answer in and of itself and not really caring because they have therapy, damn it, and it’s going to be his fault if they’re late to therapy, damn it.

“You know, I’m starting to see why Vicky told us no carpooling to sessions.” Slammed shut, he sighs when she gets out of the car, thinking idly to himself that yes, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with that commandment of their therapist either. At the very least, Cass’ ring is still on her finger. He tried a few times in the past to get her something new, something nicer than the gold band he had given her when they were still young and still not able to afford much of anything, but sure enough in each other to want to keep doing it, all of it, together. No, she would tell him, doesn’t want anything other than the gold band. What she doesn’t know is that he pawned his grandfather’s watch and an electric saw for the ring the shop owner kept in a padlocked display case. Twenty-six years old, and looking back, he thinks he would have sold a whole lot more just to get it for her.

He used to call her pearl. Something about grit that would make her roll her eyes and ask him what late night National Geographic TV special he got that line from, all the while inwardly swooning because sure, she had been baby before, babe, an errant sweetheart even, but pearl was new, and tooth-decayingly sweet. And when he proposed, Sarah bouncing around them like a manic cupid, Cassandra made an ugly sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, little black velvet box and a ring that was more signet than wedding, simple and gold and a single pearl set in the center of it. Her hands clasped, she runs the pad of her finger over her ring, wordless and worrying it on the elevator ride up to Vicky’s office.

Vicky has a thing for lamps and art prints of naked women. Her waiting room is a little dim, no windows, green velveteen loveseat and two high-backed wooden chairs that they always take when they get here, his eyes scanning over the coffee table laden with back-ordered Psychology Today magazines, headlines about overcoming anxiety and exercising your way out of depression. There had been one about postpartum depression somewhere in the pile the last time they came, but he had made a point of hanging back after Cass left, some excuse about checking an insurance thing with Vicky, though what he really did was pluck out that magazine and throw it away in the men’s restroom down the hall. One less thing to worry about, at the least.

“Hi, you two, come on back.” The sessions always start the same. Vicky asks them how they think the week went, and they both offer up some iteration of fine. Vicky asks them if they’ve been upholding their phase of separation, and she answers before Joel can, pointedly not looking at him, yes, no contact between sessions. But apparently, this week is going to be different.

“We are nearing the end of the total separation phase. After this initial period of cooling off for both of you, the real work can begin.” Right, phases, because Vicky works in phases like this is some sort of military siege. He tries not to roll his eyes at the real work beginning.

“Can either of you remember the last date you went on together?”

“It would’ve been in August, right before the separation.” Cass scoffs at his answer, tilt of her head like, really?

“Tommy and Maria’s baby shower hardly counts as a date. But we did go to dinner at the end of July.”

“I don’t think your work banquet counts either.” Vicky hits them with that look, that yeah, that’s what I thought look, all raised brow and scrunched nose and nodding. Not that she is, but if she, hypothetically, were trying to win therapy, Cassandra thinks she wouldn’t be doing a great job of it right now.

“Right, well, you’ve made my point for me. It’s not unusual for people who have been together for as long as you two have to let things like this fall to the wayside. However, it can be very helpful to reestablish some of these routines. Think of it as marriage maintenance.”

“So you want us to start going on dates again?”

“Yes, but not with each other.” Did she? Did he? Hear that right? Cass is nodding like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world, like, yes, of course, this is just the solution they’ve been looking for. This time, he doesn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of them look at him like, yes, keep up, please, let us explain this to you very slowly so you can keep up, please. Something about seeing what life is like outside of their marriage, testing the waters, seeing if they still like the same things without their extra marital limb, something about making a decision about their marriage, though he tunes most of that part out because, no, thanks, no new decision has been needed since he got down on one knee during that trip to Galveston, sunscreen and sticky sweet and he’s not sure if he or Sarah was more excited, but he was definitely more nervous. And Cass said yes, and then he wasn’t nervous anymore, not scared anymore, and that’s all there was to it, is to it, right? Right.

“This is the closing exercise of the total separation phase. It’s really important that you both have this opportunity to see what it’s like to be back in the dating pool. Think of it as a trial run of if you decide to make this separation–”

“No, no thanks. That’s not– we’re not those people, so, you know, we can just move onto the next phase.”

“Joel.” The mom voice of all things, and he knows for certain now that Cass is trying to win therapy, nudging her shoe into the side of his, and, come on, really? She’s really bought that hard into what Vicky’s selling? Now that, that isn’t like her, at all.

“What feelings are coming up for you right now, Joel?” She fucking hates that question, and she imagines that he does too, fingers drumming on his knee, long sigh, and she knows that look, that’s his getting ready to bolt look. Big man, big, skittish man who has accidentally nailed his fingers to house frames and hardly shed a tear. But feelings? Yeah, forget it.

“Uh, I guess I’m confused as to why that is so important for us to do. We came here to help our– to help us, not to create more problems.”

“And you think that if you and Cassandra went on dates, one date, with other people, that it would create more problems in your marriage?” Well, it’s hardly rocket science, Vicky, though judging by the way she’s speaking to him, he’s pretty sure he failed some kind of test of hers. He doesn’t particularly care.

“I imagine it’d do that to anyone’s marriage.”

“It’s just one date, it’s a part of the process.” She’s starting to get pissed, and trying very hard not to show it in front of Vicky should she get the what feelings are coming up for you treatment. When they agreed to start going to therapy, like a pair of dogs gagging down a pill, they had both agreed to put their full effort into it, and if Vicky wasn’t in the room with them currently, Cassandra would sharply remind him of that agreement.

“Maybe I should clarify the expectations around this exercise. It’s one date, preferably with people outside of your shared social circle, and it would be best if the focus is just on the date, no sexual relations.”

“Oh really, you think that’d be best?”

“Joel.” He gives her a slack and slanted look, speaking two different languages, apparently. And really, she doesn’t see what the big deal is. One date versus sixteen years is pretty obvious math for her to square up, though it doesn’t seem to be for him. But, watching him engage in psychological tennis with Vicky, some new jab dripping in sarcasm for every reassurance she tries to offer him, the realization comes to Cassandra slowly, simply. Joel is scared.

By the time they leave Vicky’s office, he feels deflated, defeated, because yes, they are, apparently, going to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them, scheduled in three weeks instead of one to give them time to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them.

“Can’t we just, you know, say we did it but not actually do it?”

“Are you serious right now?” Judging by the look she gives him, a quick, sharp flicker of her eyes before she focuses back on the road, he thinks he probably shouldn’t say anything else. He shouldn’t, but, well.

“Is this about pleasing Vicky, or are you just that interested in dating someone else?”

“Don’t be a child about this, Joel. It’s a therapeutic–”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. I don’t– I already know what I want, and I don’t need to go testing the waters to be sure of it. What I’m not so sure about is if you can say the same.” She can’t put her finger on anything specific, probably just a slow-building amalgamation of things. Stressful week at work, and the leaking sink getting worse, and her doctor increasing a medication dosage that’s made her body feel like something other than her body, and this fucking therapy and this fucking trying and she’s trying so hard and she feels like she’s failing and when she glances at him he looks hurt, really hurt, a close crumple in his face, deep frown, and it frustrates her because all she’s trying to do is do it right, and all she gets is this constant rhythm of resistance, this push and pull and yes, it’s all of that, all of that creeping up her throat tight and hot and curling behind her eyes sending salt pinpricks and sharp pangs. When the first sob breaks, it does so as a gasp, like a small and stunned thing in her chest. And, well, it’s never uphill from there, is it?

“Do you– do we need to pull over?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking pull over. I’m not an invalid, I can cry and drive at the same time.” Except it doesn’t come out quite like that, not smooth like that. The words get stop-started with each new shudder, new stutter, hiccuping on fucking and invalid. The world has gone to slanted stained-glass through all her tears.

Unsure what to do, but that’s nothing new. He doesn’t say anything else, watches her through the wary side of his eye, sobs turning into something more subdued, little wounded sounds high in her throat, a choice fuck you with a little more bite behind it when someone cuts her off merging onto the highway. He feels useless, feels like, maybe, this is what Vicky should be talking with them about instead of her siege on marriage plan. All he knows is that he seems to get it wrong every time, so this time, he doesn’t interject or intervene, doesn’t say any more than he already has. He lets her cry, and he lets her drive.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When he decided he was going to fix things for her, or just fix her, really. His lady in pieces and he was going to put her back together, and it seemed like every time he tried to, she just shattered a little more. That April is the obvious answer, the most shattered he had ever seen her. But the fighting had started before then, and so had the fixing that wasn’t really fixing. Like a relief, like a release, the slow realization that no, it never worked, and no, it was never going to work. The sobs turn into shivers turn into something even smaller. By the time they pull up in front of his apartment complex, it has passed.

“I just– I want to do this right, this therapy thing, and I want it to work, and I want it to work so we can be okay again. That’s what I want.” The words hang between them. He makes no move to get out of the car, and she counts her inhales in the silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It feels like a child’s logic, or maybe a hail Mary, and she knows it, feels a little insane saying it, the words fitting strangely in her mouth. The brief wondering comes to her, what would she have said about where they are now to her girlfriends, what snark, what sharp jokes at their expense? Him in an apartment and a fifteen minute drive separating them and a woman named Vicky unraveling (and in theory, putting back together) their marriage in phases, fucking phases, and fucking Vicky. She doesn’t want to go on a date with someone else, and she doesn’t know why she’s taking Vicky’s instructions as gospel. But she does know, doesn’t she? It’s not about Vicky, not about Vicky and her fucking phases. Fixing, being fixed, that’s what she wants.

“So, you’re saying you want us to date other people in order to fix our marriage.” Grateful that she takes it for the joke he meant it as, it’s just enough to slough off some of the tension, roll of her eyes, please. They both let out a sigh, too tired for much else. But maybe, he thinks, this counts as progress, sitting here with her in the car and the sun washing everything down burnt and orange. He watches her eyes drop shut for a moment, fine lines like porcelain fissures and he loves those lines, liked catching her in the bathroom with her face pressed up close to the mirror and her fingers pulling those lines taut around her eyes, her mouth. He’d pull her hands away from her face, ask her if she was planning her halloween costume for next year, earning a scoff and a roll of her eyes and her trying to pull away from him, and he wouldn’t let her. Making it better with kisses to those lines, and eventually, her pressing her fingers as light as prayers over his, an implicit wondering, where did the time go?

“Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just lie to Vicky. We could still get like, an A-minus in therapy if we leave just one thing out.”

“I didn’t realize therapy came with a grade.” He smiles, all soft, and she can’t help the sheepish bloom in her chest, rolling her lips back into her mouth to hide her own grin, eventually, reluctantly, admitting in a quiet, skewed to the side voice, okay, so maybe, maybe I was doing that thing, that winning thing. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s a mercy. Just nods, of course, and of course, he knew, maybe even before she did, and is that knowing not a mercy too? She thinks it is.

“I want to do this right too, Cass. And, I mean, we’re paying Vicky enough money that we should do what she tells us to.”

“Are you saying you want to do it then?”

“Want is a strong word.”

“Okay, are you saying you’re willing to do it?”

“It’s just the one?”

“Just the one.”

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it. We better get a goddamn A-plus at the end of this.”

“Mmm, gold stars too.” Another sigh, another settling. How nice, another sigh, another settling. It’s a strange equation, but she thinks it still adds up. Neither of them want to do this, not really, but they’re willing to, and they’re willing to because of each other. Willing to try and get it right for each other. Just, well, ignore the finer details of what getting it right entails.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“On Monday, yeah. Called to wish me a happy birthday.”

“Well, only off by four days, not too bad.”

“Oh no, she called on Monday because she was, and I quote, too busy the rest of the week to call.”

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“Is it bad that sometimes I kinda hate it?”

“Hate what?”

“That she’s like, a fully-formed person now. I miss the days when she was a little blob who liked holding onto me by one of my belt loops.” He has to smile, nod, because he knows exactly what she means. And the truth of it is that Sarah was so good, maybe the best, if he’s allowed to give his completely biased opinion. And the other truth, Cass is, was, one of those people simply meant to be a parent, a mother. He remembers when they first started dating, and all the exhausting maneuvering he did, getting his parents or Tommy to watch Sarah, a string of canceled dinner plans when his kid couldn’t seem to stop catching things at daycare. He was sure that Cass would lose interest every time another piece of his reality was revealed to her. After all, he was not unfamiliar with being left behind. But that never happened, she stayed every time.

It was Cass who first suggested it. Didn't want to impose, but what if, maybe we could, would it be okay if, why don’t we. They went to the zoo that weekend, if he remembers correctly, Sarah in tow, shy at first around the woman she barely knew, though she bloomed over the course of the day. Yes, he thinks, it was the zoo, because he remembers how by the end of the day, Cass had her on her hip, as easy as anything, so she could get a better view of the rhinos. He knows now that, even in those earliest days, she loved his kid just as much as she loved him. He knows now what a gift that was, and continues to be.

“She’s gonna be alright, Cass. We did good with her.” She sighs, yeah, we did. She had been worried about telling her about the whole lieutenant-LMFT thing, the whole quasi-separation thing, but that was a direct command from Vicky, letting the family know what was going on. Sarah had taken it surprisingly well when she called, could be good, mom, like a reset. Of course, they kept the worst of it away from her, and of course, she still knew something had changed, something not right between them. No one was left unscathed after that April.

From the start, loving him included loving Sarah. It was never difficult for her to do both. Sweet girl, bright like the sun girl, rounded cheeks and bouncing curls, and Cassandra found that her love for her had a particular effect on her heart. Whenever small hand reached for one of hers, whenever small face tucked into her neck, whether tear-damp or milk-tired, and eventually, whenever she was given the name mom, like a stop and restart of her heart, like something turning back on inside her and finally working right. An everything kind of love, to not only be chosen by him, but to be chosen by her too.

“Well, anyways, Vicky didn’t make any stipulations about birthdays, so I have something for you.” Just a small thing, she says, leaning over the console and into the back seat, and he knows better than to say no, shouldn’t have, because there’s already a perfect package being placed in his hands, navy blue wrapping paper and a white bow, and her hand cups underneath his for just a moment, there and gone.

The truth is she had already picked out this gift two months ago, what feels like a lifetime before this separation. Now, watching him open it, she’s a little worried it had been presumptuous of her, if not completely narcissistic. But if he thinks that, he makes no show of it, lets out a quiet laugh as he takes the watch out of the box and holds it up in the fading light to look at it.

“It’s a little sappy, maybe. But, well, we have something that kinda matches now.” Something is unfurling in his chest, heat loosening something he didn’t even realize he had been tightening up around. It’s a beautiful watch, rich leather strap and polished silver. And the face of it catches and shimmers a little in the light. He knows right away that it’s mother of pearl.

Here, she says, let me, and he does, feeling a little indulgent watching her fasten the watch around his wrist, and definitely breaking one of fucking Vicky’s fucking rules when he ducks his head down and steals a kiss, another one, letting the third deepen just a little, both of them humming because missed this, missed this, didn’t realize how much, but missed this.

“Thank you, pearly.” It feels good to be so close to him, noses brushing and smiles curling around each other. Feels like a relief.

“Happy birthday, one day ahead. We could, you know, do something tomorrow? Get dinner maybe?” Before he can answer, say yes, she’s already caught herself, sheepish smile and pulling a little further away and oh, right. She says sorry, wasn’t thinking, and they do an awkward dance around the whole thing, right, yeah, probably shouldn’t, right, yeah. He is not a hateful man, and it would be too strong to say he’d wish Vicky harm. But if something were to happen, in theory, that’d make Vicky go the fuck away, in theory, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it.

“See you next Thursday then?”

“Well, next next Thursday, because we have to do the– yeah.”

“Right, yeah.” Right, yeah, this is the part where he gets out of the car. The part where he goes up to his apartment and she drives home and they don’t eat dinner together and they don’t brush their teeth together and they don’t go to sleep together. Right, yeah. They say goodnight. He’d like to say love, but he doesn’t. She’d like to say love, but she doesn’t. And they part ways.

She hates being in this house alone. Leaves all the lights on all hours of the day and checks all the locks three times before going upstairs to bed. Passes by the closed door that remains closed with her breath held. She knows it makes no sense, but she’s been sleeping in the guestroom, makes the whole thing a little easier. Always had a tendency toward insomnia, tossing and turning brain and body.

When they were just starting to get more serious, and she was just starting to stay over at his more often, she got worried that eventually it'd drive him mad enough for the whole thing to not be worth it, neither of them getting much sleep as they learned how to share a bed together. And she doesn't remember how it started exactly, maybe out of a moment of pure exasperation, him draping just enough of his weight over her to press slower breath into her lungs and still her body. It became a routine, she'd ask could you? And he'd already know what she was asking for without her having to say any more than that. What she also doesn't remember, when that stopped working, when she stopped asking, and he stopped answering. She supposes it all happened slowly, just like the rest of it.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller au

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lewis-winters · 9 months

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I've said this all before but I just go crazy every time this scene comes on and it's in the first ten minutes of the whole show who allowed this to happen, I--

first of all: Nix is just waiting there for Dick and there's no introduction, no greetings, just straight into boring, best friend banter that establishes for the audience that oh! these two have rapport! they know each other enough to joke! and the conversation keeps going, quips about happy hour and civilized places for civilized men and then they pull this shit--

"Should've been born earlier, Nix." // "And what? Give up all this?"

what the fuck, what the fuck--

this fucking look, man, like. you can already tell from the conversation they just had that lewis might be someone who never takes things seriously, who uses jokes to protect himself and has this reputation of being nonchalant about everything (despite feeling so so much, as we'll learn later on), and so at first we think that this is a joke and it is a joke! but then dick turns around and gives him that look and lewis' sardonic expression falls and there's this silent exchange and you get this feeling that dick knows that even jokes are half meant and this one, especially, has an undercurrent of truth in it so goddamn heavy that it hits hard enough for dick to turn around and smirk at nix--

--because for once, he's managed to pull the god damn honest truth and then you think, what am i missing, really? what is nix actually saying? and you realize--

he is saying; "no, i'd rather go to war than not know you."

he is saying; "i wouldn't wanna miss out on you."

he is saying; "even if i were born earlier, even if i didn't get to know you, i'd still miss you."

and he didn't fucking mean to!!! look at his face!!!!!!!

he didn't mean to say it!!!! he didn't mean to bear that much of his soul!!!!! look at him!! he's Afraid!! he's Embarrassed!! but he can't turn away fast enough, he can't take it back, because dick is Looking At Him Like That!!

quit looking at him like that, dick, it's like you're in love with him-- and maybe he is. because he read through the lines and he chose nix, in the end. instead of walking away, like he'd might've been planning to do, he walks back and takes a seat and listens as his boybestfriend tells him; "We'll go to Chicago, I'll take you there."

before turning to watch nix light up his cigarette, puff up some smoke and memorize everything he can about him. scanning his profile, and staring at his lips, dick wonders if maybe he'll one day come to love the flavor of nicotine, so long as his first taste of it came from lewis' mouth.

#winnix #band of brothers #dick winters #lewis nixon #bob meta

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javispunk · 11 months

Text

I can’t protect you

Summary: After a week car ride over the state with Joel, you both decide to settle for a night at the forest. You didn’t like the idea, but Joel convinced you otherwise. He didn’t make the right choice and blames himself for what might have happened, but you know how to calm him down.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (no relationship established).

Content/Warnings: +18 SMUT (minors please don’t interact!) unprotected sex (p in v), violence (mention of use of guns and straight up violence - Joel beating the shit out of everyone), mention of rape.

Notes: Excuse any mistake, as english is not my first language. If you have any requests you’d like me to write please let me know! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated (let me know what you think!). Thank you for the support!

“Are you sure this is the right way?” You asked worried. “It’s just that we’ve been driving for hours and it all looks the same to me.”

“Yes, don’t worry.” Joel returned. “We’ll make a turn soon.”

Your relationship with Joel wasn’t very straightforward. You never got too close, but could keep an interesting conversation if you wanted to or if you needed to. You were friends. You held that title with caution, noticing he most of the times kept everything to himself and didn’t really talk much of his past. Which is understandable. He was never once rude to you in any way, but he also didn’t really shot you smiles or tried to make you laugh. You were just kind of there, with each other. Your presence made noticed by each other but never too invading. Never too close.

You noticed Joel turning left into a path that was clear from any type of vegetation. Soon enough you saw a forest.

“Joel.” You began. “What are you doing?”

You saw him grip the steering wheel to complete his turn. “We have to stop, it’s already dark out.”

You looked at him with apprehension. Sleep in the woods? Alone?

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, sleep in the actual woods?” Your voice was somewhat just a whisper.

He looked at you, his eyes trying to find the reasoning on your mind to stop him from doing this. “What about it? There’s not any type of civilization for the next hundred miles, we have to sleep somewhere. The forest is safer than on the side of the road.”

“Joel, I don’t know…” you continued.

You averted your gaze on the trees that became taller as you approached them together still inside the car. It soon came to a stop, as Joel pressed the brakes gently.

“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we got right now.” His eyes showed empathy, searching in your face for a sign of relief or understanding.

“Well, yeah I know. It’s just that it’s so… exposed. I feel super exposed out here. What if clickers appear?” You protested, fear beginning to show up in your voice.

“Clickers are not a problem here. We’re so isolated. They won’t come.” He assured you. You looked at him for a few seconds, hoping he’d listen to you. “Either way, clickers won’t be our worst problem.” The air got heavy as he spoke. Your expression got more deep with fear. When Joel noticed, he gave you a quick smile and spoke once again. “I’ll go grab the sleeping bags and put them outside.”

“Outside?” Your voice higher than usual.

His face serious and surprised. “Yes, outside.”

“I’ll stay in the car if that’s okay.” You grabbed your jacket to cover yourself with it.

“No no, you’ll freeze to death. We have to make a fire outside.”

You didn’t even consider that option. “I’ll be fine.”

“Absolutely not. Cmon, help me get our things please.”

You watched him get off of the car quickly. You took longer, as you looked outside your window and tried to look in between the tall slim trees that dominated the space. This was unfamiliar. You could only imagine dozens of clickers running in your direction in the middle of the night. Your gaze then followed Joel, who passed your window with two sleeping bags on his arms and his shotgun on his back. You jumped out of the car, bringing all of the blankets you had, as well as both of your jackets.

Once you approached Joel, you handed him his. “Thank you.” He smiled.

You kept your eyes on him longer than usual while he put it on, his smile captivating you, as it was not shown easily. He quickly grabbed his own sleeping bag, while you copied him, trying to seem like you knew what you were doing.

You never really did camping before the world went to shit. You watched him unfold his sleeping bag, hoping he would not notice how unfamiliar you were with your surroundings.

“We should start that fire.” His voice broke the silence.

You kept looking at him, until after a few seconds, his eyes darted at you, watching you carefully.

“Oh you want me to-“ you started, before he interrupted you.

“Only if you want to.” He stopped making his bed for a second.

You shifted in your place. “No no, I’ll do it. You keep doing that.” You gestured.

You didn’t know how to start a fire. You didn’t even know where to begin with. You stood still, looking around you and evaluating what branches you’d grab first. Your body frozen in place.

You saw him look you up, body crouched on the floor, arms supported on his bent legs. “You know how to start a fire?” His voice serious as ever, even though it didn’t announce a condescending tone.

Your eyes met his, asking for help. “I don’t…” you started. “I never really got to do this before-”

“That’s alright, you don’t need to explain.” His body ascending from the floor, after leaving his sleeping bag unattended.

“Well… what can I do?” You asked, hands folded in front of your stomach.

“You can rest if you want to.”

“I must do something, Joel.” You insisted.

His hands grabbing bigger pieces of wood that he found near by, holding them between his torso and underarm. “You can prepare the sleeping bags. Or you can make coffee.”

“That I can do.” Your shy smile making his resurface.

You had a soft spot for Joel, you always had. Since you laid eyes on him. He was attractive, yes. And he was caring, always. But he never really gave you the opportunity to open up in his presence. You guys were just sort of there, hoping to keep company to each other. Nothing ever happened, besides the occasional glances or the longing stares out of the blue. Joel was a little bit older than you, that wasn’t really a problem for you but the thought occurred to you that maybe it was an impediment for him. Maybe he’d like a more mature woman, his actual age. Sometimes you’d think about it, but rapidly shoved the thought out of your head. It was somewhat absurd.

You put the water to boil, hoping the time would go faster. You just wanted this night to go quick.

When you were done with preparing the drink, you quickly realised Joel had taken care of basically everything else. Your sleeping bags were ready to be used - each one at a safe distance from the other - and the fire was already beginning to gain force. Joel even brought some logs for you guys to sit around the fire.

You grabbed a mug full of coffee and brought it to him. “Thank you.” His face lit up by the yellowy orange fire. “You’re not gonna drink some?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.” If you drank coffee it would just leave you more restless.

“You can go sleep if you want to. I’ll stay in watch duty, I can wake you when it’s your turn.” He adjusted the riffle on his back before taking another sip of his coffee.

“You don’t mind?” Your voice sounded like of a child scared of the dark. You were tired, so you could use the rest.

He shook his head, assuring you. You slipped into your designated sleeping bag still in your outside clothes, there was no such thing as pyjamas. You closed your eyes and started to drift off slowly.

Needless was to say your sleep didn’t last long. The overwhelming fear of being in an unknown place, of being not completely alone but just with Joel’s presence, no kind of community that can guide you or protect you in some way. The fear of not being able to save yourself from whatever might attack you. Either clickers or men. The thought didn’t occur to you until Joel mentioned it earlier, but clickers really weren’t your worst problem. There could be men scavenging unknown or uncivilised lands, hoping to find whatever they wanted, either food or arming. You began to roll in place, inside the warmth of your sleeping bag, but not even that made you comfortable enough to close your eyes. Once you faced Joel’s direction still wrapped on the blankets, you saw his back to you, on his feet, noticing his always present stance while holding his shotgun.

Your eyebrows furrowed in strangeness. You carefully, slowly got up, but Joel still managed to look your way.

“Do you wanna rest now?” Your tired voice broke the silence.

“No, I’m okay. The coffee’s helping.” He pointed to the half empty mug on the floor.

“I made sure to make it strong.” You smiled.

“Thank you.”

“But seriously.” You interrupted him. “Go rest, I’ll watch now. I can’t sleep either way.” You gestured for him to give you the rifle.

He shook his head, hoping you’d give in.

“C’mon Joel. I can work a shotgun.” You half laughed at his gesture.

“I know you can, I just don’t want you to. Go sleep.” His voice deep as ever.

“The fire is going out, and God knows I can’t do nothing about that.” You nonchalantly pointed at the crackling a few feet away from you. “Someone has to hold the gun.” You put your hand out.

Joel looked you in the eye dead serious before breaking a smile. “You’re insufferable.” He walked over to you, placing the gun harness over your head, you adjusting it to your size. “There you go.”

“Thank you, sir.” You jokingly stated.

You saw Joel crouch on the floor, working on the fire as it grew bigger and smoke made it’s way up through the tall trees.

“It should be good for another 3 hours or so-”

“Now sleep.” You ordered.

“I’m not gonna leave you here while I sleep.” He said while he kept gathering logs of wood.

“Shh.” You ordered once again.

“No, honestly, give me the gun-” you interrupted him again.

“No, shut the fuck up. Did you hear that?” Dead silence followed your question.

Joel looked at his surroundings with worried eyes, before a voice made itself known.

“Hello, hi!” A man appeared from behind the slim trees, his hands in the air over his head. Joel rapidly got closer to you, positioning his body almost in front of yours. You moved away from him, immediately pointing the shotgun to the man’s chest. “You can put the gun down, honey.”

Your eyes stayed still on the man’s face, not moving a muscle.

Joel’s voice sounded rispid. “What do you want?”

The man looked at him with apprehension. “I’ve been walking alone for a few weeks now, I don’t have anything on me. I haven’t eaten or drunk a single drop of water in two days.” His left hand moved to his stomach, resting there for a few seconds before moving back to the air.

“We have nothing to give you.” Joel’s voice came out cruel.

“Joel…” you spoke softly next to him, trying to attend to his empathy. You had water you could give the man, it wouldn’t really make a difference to both of you.

The man shifted his look between the both of you, giving Joel more attention. “Please.” He begged. “If you have anything… “ he stuttered. “I’ll take anything you can give me.”

Joel looked over at you before leaving your side and grabbing a tin of water from the car. He walked slowly, trying to evaluate the man’s facial expressions and actions. He stayed still most of the time, out of fear you thought. You looked over at Joel purposely slowing down his pace. After abruptly putting the gun down on the floor, you reached over to him, grabbing the water yourself. You wouldn’t deny anyone a single drop of water. Joel called out your name once you left his side. You ignored him and approached the man, extending your arm in his direction, still careful to not drop your guard down. You watched the man’s right hand approach the tin, but quickly passing over it, rapidly grabbing your wrist. Your arm came next. What happened next unraveled in a matter of seconds.

Joel shouted your name next to the car, quickly running to your aid. You called his name back. All of a sudden you heard gunshots coming from behind the trees. You saw Joel grab the gun from the floor and point it immediately to the man grabbing you from the back now.

“Shoot him, not fucking her!” The man shouted.

Two other men appeared from the dark, you imagined still not getting close enough for Joel to fully see their figure. You saw Joel aim the gun to one of the man behind you. You couldn’t see them, and you just felt the hands of the man grabbing you so you wouldn’t run away. You saw Joel fire one bullet, hoping he did some damage. He then moved the shotgun over your head, fixating his aim over your right shoulder.

“Let go of her.” Joel’s voice was deeper than you ever heard it.

“You already killed one of my men. I’ll forget that, I’ll give you all my munition, if you let me have her.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted in his arms, struggling to let loose.

“I have a gun pointing at your head.” The man spoke directly to Joel, ignoring you. “He won’t hesitate to kill you if you resist.”

“That makes two of us.” Joel didn’t move a muscle, shifting his gaze from you and the man behind the trees. “Let go of her.” He repeated louder.

The man’s hands were glued to your body. The look of disgust in Joel’s face made you stay still. “Not happening, man.” The man spit.

Joel shot once again at the trees. Another shot came back almost at the same time from the woods. You gasped as you heard it passing your side and missing Joel by a few feet. “I’m gonna blow your fucking brains off if you don’t get your filthy hands off her!”

“This can’t be your daughter, but she’s too young for you anyway.” You heard the man’s gutural laugh behind your head. “Last chance, or he kills you. After that we can do anything we want with her.” As soon as you saw Joel aim at the man in the back trees, you heard the man shout once again. “For fuck’s sake, shoot him!”

But Joel had him in his aim for longer than that. A bullet came sprinting on your direction, going over your head at full speed. Almost immediately you saw Joel throw the shotgun on the floor with a thud and fasten his pace in your direction. The man let go of you once he realized he was outnumbered and alone, beginning to turn away, but Joel grabbed him by the arm, not letting him go. You got away from the scene, but still couldn’t avert your gaze from it.

“Get inside the car.” Joel spoke as he put the man on the floor underneath him.

The look on Joel’s eyes was dark and almost animalistic. “Joel… just shoot him or something.”

You saw him shake his head to the sides, while always looking at the floor. “No, not this one.” The man underneath him struggled to keep a stead breath, beginning to cry and beg for his life. “Go to the car, please.” His voice became soft again.

You couldn’t even stand there one more minute seeing his expression of disgust mixed with sadness. You turned away and got to the backseat of the car, closing the doors, locking them. You didn’t want to look, but there was no way of just ignoring the fact that Joel was dragging this man out into the woods by his collar. He never once looked back until he disappeared into the darkness. But you kept hearing the man’s screams after, even if he was out of your sight. You put both of your hands on each side of your head, covering your ears. Tears came rolling down your cheeks. Joel hurting or killing someone was not something you haven’t imagined or seen before, but the idea of him doing it with his own bare hands was animalistic and cruel. Not that the man didn’t deserve it, but it felt too much for you to even imagine. A few minutes passed and the screams became to a stop. Not long after, you saw Joel emerge from the trees. His head was down, only looking up inside the car once, before he grabbed the tin of water to wash his bloody hands. He supported them on his hips for a second, always looking down.

You saw him approach the car, opening the door slowly. You saw his figure, dark and tall, blood on his jacket, and some on his shirt. He got inside the car next to you, closing the door behind him as he whispered your name before starting his speech. “Are you okay?” He paused as he analyzed you. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was low, his eyes soft. “I shouldn’t have stopped here. I should have kept driving all the way through the night.” A single tear falling from his eye. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. He turned his back to you for a few seconds after repeating the same words over and over, in a soft tone. “I can’t protect you.”

You grabbed his hand while he wasn’t looking at you. “That’s all you ever did.” His gaze immediately on you, taking in those six words. With your eyes fixed on his, both your hands flew to each side of his face, smearing that tear away from it. “I’m alright.”

His eyes moving from your eyes to your lips. You followed his lead, doing the same. That was enough for him, connecting his mouth to yours. It was the gentlest kiss you’ve ever received in your life, tasting the salty tear on his lips. With both your hands still touching, he grabbed yours placing it on his shoulder, while you adjusted yourself in your seat. Joel didn’t break the kiss, he would never. The silent ambience of the night, with only your mouths making their love known, sounds echoed inside the car, putting you in a trance for him. The desire you had of him only unraveling now with such force. You rapidly straddled him without much thought, his hands holding your waist automatically, even though your skins never touched one another before. His back supported by the seat, his head on the head-rester. Your body over his. When you two gathered for air you heard his voice in a whisper.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, Joel.” You closed the gap between the both of you, before taking his jacket off and throwing it to the floor of the car.

His body followed yours as you took your shirt off over your head. You were hungry for human touch. His touch. His eyes plastered on your figure before kissing your neck and chest softly. Your breast between his hands, as he kept sucking on your skin dearly. You tugged at his shirt so he would take it off, his pants following your request quickly. You did the same to yours, your underwear coming off at the same time. You looked down at the bulge in his boxers. Fuck, he was big. You were quick to take him out on your hand, adjusting him at your entrance. His breath was shaky, feeling your hand around his hard cock, ready to receive your warmth and wetness. The sounds you both made once he disappeared inside you were animalistic. He stretched you so good you thought you would burst.

“Fuck.” Joel began, his head thrown back at the sight of you starting to move on his length.

His hands carefully holding your bare back, crossing his arms to hold you closer to him. You question how his hands could kill a man, and the next minute be so gentle on your skin and flesh, how his caresses made your head go dizzy. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting the deepest spot inside you. You haven’t felt that in years. Your body moving up and down on him, throwing your head back as he whispered sweet nothings. “So fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

“You feel so good, Joel.” You replied, once you felt your walls tighten against his length.

His thrusts, his hands, his words, were all so very gentle.

“Faster.” You requested.

Your words intoxicating his mind. As he fasten his pace, the whimpers that escaped your mouth made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I can’t-“ he interrupted you.

“I know, I know, baby.” He paused as he gathered himself. “Cum on me.”

His words were enough to take you through the edge. With your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hands supported behind his neck, you felt the tight knot on your stomach release, and as you rode your high on his length, you felt his warm seed shoot up and spread itself inside you, helping with the lubrification on your last thrusts.

You opened your eyes and immediately saw Joel’s on you. Your body fell on top of his, the pressure of you over his body making him smile and chuckle to himself.

“Don’t ever leave me.” Joel’s voice was still deep with lust, but his eyes told you he meant it far more than that.

“Keep protecting me, and I’ll be fine.” You smiled.

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