#west from narrow neck
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Your Biggest Mistake (Became My Future) (Kristie Mewis x Reader)
When your childhood best friend Kristie Mewis showed up at your door in the middle of the night crying because Sam Kerr had cheated on her, you took her in without a second thought. What you didn't realize was that the feelings you'd been holding back for so long were about to surface, and what that meant for your and Kristie's relationship, you didn't know.
Disclaimer: SO, this fic contains smut, and also a g!p reader, so if that isn't your thing, feel free to skip this one. As always, let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you guys, enjoy!
Knuckles wrapping loudly against your apartment door is what jars you from your sleep, your brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as you leave the couch, you’d fallen asleep on and make your way to the door.
You glance at the kitchen stove’s clock out of the corner of your eye, your brow furrowing when you realize it’s well passed 3AM.
Who could be knocking on your door at this hour?
Your peer through the peep hole, your eyes widening when you realize the person standing on the other side of the door is none other than Kristie Mewis.
You jerk the door open, coming face to face with a red-rimmed eyed Kristie Mewis, her bottom lip trembling, a suitcase in one hand, a duffle bag hanging from her shoulder.
She drops the bag and suitcase on the floor with a thud before leaping into your arms, the blonde burying her face in your neck as she sobs in your hold.
“She cheated on me.”
Your nostrils flare as you grab her suitcase and duffel bag, the woman still clinging to you as you guide her into your apartment and onto the couch.
You’d been best friends with Kristie since childhood, the two of you attending the same college before you went your separate ways, the blonde joining the NWSL, and you joining the WSL, heading overseas.
You were elated when Kristie had ended her contract with Gotham and was coming overseas to be on your team, West Ham United.
You were less than thrilled that the reason she was coming overseas was for her fiancé, Sam Kerr.
You’d never liked the woman, not only because she stood between you and any potential chance of getting with Kristie, but because she was too cocky for her own good, which to you, was off-putting.
She’d done everything she could to keep the two of you apart, to weasel her way between the two of you and your friendship.
You knew she had to have guessed by now that you had feelings for Kristie, which was why she was attempting to separate the two of you yet again, but that strategy hadn’t worked and once again, you and Kristie became inseparable.
You knew it had caused a significant number of fights between the pair, but you were confident in the fact that Kristie would never cut you off, simply because Sam wanted her too, she was your best friend afterall.
“Shhh, it’s okay, just tell me what happened.” You coo as you run your hands gently down her back, your heart aching in your chest at the sight of the woman’s tears.
She sniffles, burying her face in your neck, her nose brushing your jawline.
“She slept with someone else, she wouldn’t tell me who.”
You snarl, your hold on her tightening, the thought of wringing Sam Kerr’s neck coming to mind.
“She thought I cheated on her, so she did it to ‘get back at me’.” She cries, her hold on you tightening.
You scoff.
“That’s just her excuse.” You growl, the woman pulling back to look into your Y/E/C orbs, orbs that hold a fire in them that she’d only seen once before during college when you punched a man outside a bar for harassing and touching her without her consent.
“Can I...” She swallows hard, her mouth opening and closing before you smile softly, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear.
“Ask.” You say, brushing a tear off of her cheek, the woman’s breath hitching as she leans briefly into your touch.
“Can I stay here?” She whispers and you smile, ducking down to kiss her forehead, like you’d done since you were kids.
“You didn’t even have to ask.”
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It was a week later when Kristie took to social media to announce her and Sam’s dissolved engagement and the subsequent end of their relationship, something that upset those in the WOSO community.
Kristie however was more upset than all of them combined, the woman a shell of herself as she shuffled around your apartment.
The day after the announcement, you decided to do something about it, making your way to the guest bedroom and approaching the blonde who’d just been laying in bed, buried beneath a heap of blankets.
“Come on.” You say, prodding the pile of blankets, the woman growling beneath.
“No.”
You sigh, pulling the blankets off of the woman, who whines.
“I can’t see you like this anymore, come on, we’re going out.” You say, earning a frown from the woman curled up in bed.
“I don’t want to Y/N.” She whispers and you sigh, sitting down beside her on the bed.
You reach your hand towards her, placing it face up on the bed beneath you, her blue orbs darting from your hand to your eyes and back.
Barely a second passes before she’s taking your hand, smiling when you give it a squeeze.
She silently plays with your fingers, your heart skipping a beat, something you try to ignore, knowing that the last thing she needed was your pining.
“Do you trust me?” You whisper, your eyes locking with Kristie’s shimmering blues.
“More than anything.” She smiles softly.
You squeeze her hand again, before reluctantly releasing it, missing the woman’s pout as you move to your feet.
“Come on, get dressed.” You say, Kristie huffing, but rolling out of bed before moving towards her suitcase.
A smile stretches across your face as you make you way towards your own bedroom, intent on getting dressed and taking Kristie someplace nearby that would, hopefully, cheer her up.
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You couldn’t help but smile as Kristie licked her ice cream intently, your smile splitting into a grin when she did a little happy wiggle on the bench beside you.
You chuckle, turning your attention to your own ice cream, watching as people walk past.
If you knew one way to cheer up the woman beside you, it was with ice cream, her go to for when she was feeling down in high school, in college, and into adulthood.
“What?” Kristie asks, pulling you from your daze.
You snort, zeroing in on the bit of ice cream hanging from her nose.
The blonde’s breath hitches as you wipe it away with your thumb.
“Some things never change.” You snicker, earning an eye roll.
“At least you didn’t leave it on my face like you did in high school.”
You stick your tongue out at the blonde, who barks out a laugh before turning back to her ice cream.
You’re unable to take your eyes off of her, watching as she enthusiastically licks the sweet treat, the rod between your legs beginning to stir.
“Goddamn it.” You mumble, the blonde turning your way mid-lick.
“Are you okay?” She asks and you nod.
“More than okay.”
She turns away, your eyes zeroing in on the bulge in your pants, something you immediately shift to hide from view.
Thankfully for you, Kristie was made aware of the extra appendage between your legs when you were kids, meaning she’d pretty much accepted you right away.
Deep down, you knew even if she found out about it later in life, she still would’ve accepted you, her heart was too big for her NOT to accept that part of you.
You chuckle to yourself, turning back to your own ice cream, unaware that the woman beside you is watching you closely, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
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It didn’t take much prompting for you to get Kristie to go out after that, the two of you frequenting the ice cream shop weekly, so much so that the workers behind the counter knew your names.
You grimace, digging the doorknob of your apartment’s door into your back as you backed into the apartment, carrying a number of takeout boxes, food you knew Kristie would enjoy.
“There you are!” Kristie says from her place on the couch, the woman deep into a The Bachelor marathon.
You chuckle, kicking the door shut behind you.
Kristie rises from the couch, stretching her arms high above her head as she makes her way towards you, taking one of the bags full of takeout boxes out of your hand.
“You know, we shouldn’t be eating this.” She jests, though she can’t help but grin when she pops the takeout box open, grinning down at its contents.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” You wink, making your way towards the couch, takeout box in hand.
“Come on, let’s watch this shitty TV show you love so much.” You tease, the woman growling.
“It’s not shitty!” She says, giving you a nudge as she takes a seat beside you.
“Whatever you say.” You snort, earning a groan.
“Don’t act like you haven’t been catching up on episodes when I was asleep.” She gives you a pointed look and you bark out of laugh.
“Yeah, I don’t recall that.” You scoff, Kristie staring intently at your profile, her brow arched and a smirk stretched across her face.
You growl.
“Shut up Mewis and watch the TV show.”
She giggles.
“Only if you admit you like it.” She says, poking your side and you squeak.
You shoot her a glare, earning only a playful smile in return.
You get lost in her blue orbs momentarily before your gaze falls to her lips, your eyes widening as you turn abruptly away.
“I guess it isn't THAT terrible.” You mumble as you take a forkful of food and shovel it into your mouth.
Kristie smirks.
“I knew you liked it.”
You hum.
“I never said that.”
“Shut up Y/L/N and watch the TV show.” She says, starting the show again and you sigh, eyeing her profile before turning away, unaware that she was now gazing your way, her lips splitting into a grin.
***********************************************************************
It’s a short time later that takeout boxes go empty, and you soon find yourself knee deep into whatever season of The Bachelor you were currently on.
To be honest, you weren’t at all sure.
“Seriously, why’d he pick her? I mean come on--
You fall silent, your eyes widening when a weight settles on your lap, your eyes leaving the TV in favor of glancing downwards, realizing Kristie’s head was in your lap.
You smile softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face before tucking it behind her ear.
Luckily, you saw the glow returning to the woman’s blue orbs, the blonde well on her way to being the same, bubbly and silly woman you knew her to be.
You sigh, tangling your fingers in her soft blonde locks, the woman humming in her sleep as your nails graze her scalp.
Your heart lightens in your chest as you trace her sharp jawline, her brows furrowing in her sleep before she grabs your hand.
Your eyes widen when she traps it against her cheek, her eyes fluttering open.
“Y/N?” She whispers and you smile, caressing her cheek with your thumb.
“It’s me. Go back to sleep.” You mumble and she hums, her eyes fluttering back shut before sleep takes her once more, your hand still in hers.
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Even though months had passed, you could see the sadness on Kristie’s face when she found out that Sam Kerr was in a new relationship, her eyes dulling as she read the news.
She’d again withdrew into herself, you knew she'd loved the Aussie very much, and seeing her with someone else had to be painful.
Still, you did everything you could to cheer her up, taking her out for ice cream and binge watching The Bachelor.
You push your way into the apartment, sighing when you realize she’s fast asleep on the couch, her phone laying on the floor.
You smile sadly as you make your way towards her, tear tracks visible on her flushed cheeks that make your own heart break.
You pick her phone up off the floor and place it on the table before crouching down beside her.
“Kris?” You whisper, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, the woman continuing to snore away.
You smile softly, taking her gently into your arms before carrying her down the hallway towards the guest room she’d been residing in.
You place her softly on the bed before pulling the covers up over her, your eyes tracing the woman’s face.
You had no idea what it felt like to be cheated on by your fiancé, but what you did know is that you’d be there for her every step of the way.
You duck down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the woman mumbling in her sleep.
“I love you, Kris.” You whisper, leaving the room quietly, the door shutting softly behind you.
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It isn’t until hours later that Kristie wakes, her brows furrowing, when she realizes she’s in bed.
She glances around the room, her head on a swivel as she tries to find her phone, which she unfortunately can’t find.
She slips silently out of bed before making her way down the hallway towards the living room.
The apartment was pitch black, meaning that it was well past midnight, and considering she could hear you snoring softly, she knew you were fast asleep.
She stumbles through the darkness, eventually finding her phone which was resting on the coffee table, its screen lighting up when she picks it up.
She frowns, notification after notification littering her screen, most tagging her in Sam Kerr’s post.
Kristie shakes her head, realizing that it was well past 2AM, which meant she’d slept the day away.
She creeps silently back to her room, stopping midway down the hall in front of your door, the door cracked open slightly.
She slides a hand into the crack, pushing the door open a bit on zeroing in on your sleeping form, her heart lightening in her chest.
She’s unsure of what it is that leads her to make her way into your room, the woman clearing her throat.
“Y/N?” She whispers, her voice soft and raspy, despite that however, your eyes flash open.
“Kris?” You croak, digging your fists into your eyes in an attempt to clear your vision.
“Are you alright?” You ask, swinging your legs out of bed, your movements stopped when Kristie place a hand on your shoulder.
“I’m okay... I was just wondering if...” She pauses, shuffling from foot to foot, the sight endearing.
“If...?” You start, staring at the woman expectantly.
The blonde’s throat bobs.
“Can I sleep in here?” She asks, your eyes widening.
“Umm, sure, of course you can, I-I mean...” You stutter, shivering when the blankets are pulled back, the warmth beneath the blanket escaping for a mere moment before Kristie slides beneath the covers beside you.
Your cheeks flush as she shuffles around, the two of you now face to face, her head resting on the pillow beside your own.
“You’re sure this is, okay?” She whispers and you nod, unable to stop your eyelids from fluttering.
“Of course it is.” You whisper, your words slurring.
Kristie simply watches as you fall asleep, unable to stop herself from shuffling closer to you and burying her face in your neck.
She’d been upset after finding out that Sam had moved on, but now, as your arms wrapped around her, that sadness ebbed away.
You’d done everything you could to keep her spirits up, binge watching her favorite TV show even though you didn’t really like it, buying her takeout from her favorite restaurant every chance you got, and taking her out for ice cream nearly every week.
You’d been a constant in her life since childhood, doing all you could to keep in touch, even when you lived overseas.
And here you were, holding her tightly against your chest, your nose buried in her hair as you slept soundly.
Seeing Sam with someone else had been heartbreaking, but the more she thought about Sam, the less sadness she felt.
That sadness was replaced, replaced by the way she was feeling about you, how she’d ALWAYS felt about you.
Even during her time with Sam, she still couldn’t shake the feelings she had for you, she couldn’t let you go, no matter how many times Sam asked.
She knew deep down it was because she loved you, in an entirely different way than she loved Sam.
“Maybe this was a blessing in disguise.” She whispers, caressing your cheek gently, a growl rumbling in your throat as you snuggle closer.
She smiles, leaning forwards, her forehead resting against your own as she too falls fast asleep.
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The following morning, she wakes with a hum, snuggling back into your warmth, her eyes flashing wide open when something hard brushes against her backside.
She swallows hard, a lump forming in her throat when she realizes what it is that’s brushing against her.
She’d known that you were intersex since you were children, and of course, it hadn’t bothered her.
In fact, she’d grown rather curious about it in your teenage years, asking to see it once, which you had done, nervously.
She’s seen it a number of other times, considering you slept at her house more often than not, and boxers were your go to sleepwear.
She, however, never felt an iota of discomfort.
It was a part of you, and she loved you.
She knew you were embarrassed by it, and in high school, when the first girl you slept with let it slip that you were packing, you became the talk of the school, something that Kristie did everything in her power to shield you from.
The night you’d told her you lost your virginity, she’d felt a tinge of jealousy, jealous at the fact that someone else had taken what she wanted.
She’s brought back to reality when you groan softly, snuggling closer, brushing the bulge in your boxers against her.
She slams her eyes shut, resisting the urge to grind back against it, uncertain if that was what you wanted or not.
The woman stiffens when you begin to stir, a lengthy yawn leaving you as you become aware of the situation.
“Fuck.” You mumble, your eyes widening when you realize Kristie is awake.
“I-I-I'm so sorry Kris. I--
You’re cut off when the woman shakes her head.
“Don’t be sorry, it’s natural.” She shrugs and you nod, still deeply embarrassed, the tips of your ears blood red.
“Uh... I’ll be back in a—Yeah.” You stutter before sprinting out of the room, the woman shaking her head as she rests back into your pillows, your scent clouding her senses before she falls fast asleep.
***********************************************************************
Sleeping in your bed had become a regular occurrence, and nearly every morning she had to resist the urge to grind back into the hard appendage digging into her from behind.
The more time that passed, the more she realized how deep her feeling for you went.
She craved the sound of your laugh, and to see your smile. She loved when you complained about watching The Bachelor all the time, but never even attempted to stop watching alongside her.
She loved the way you’d smile at her when you thought she wasn’t looking, and the way you’d carry her to bed if she’d fallen asleep on the couch.
She loved the way you’d gently hold her and bury your nose in the space behind her ear when you were fast asleep, a position you were currently in.
You let out a growl at the sound of your dinging phone, the rapid notifications pulling you from your slumber.
“What the fuck.” You mumble as you blindly reach for your phone, refusing to turn around and leave your place pressed against Kristie’s back, a way you’d woken up often as of late.
You stare bleary eyed at the screen, your brows knitting in confusion before your eyes widen and you shoot upright, startling the woman in front of you.
“What?” She asks in concern, her own eyes widening when you turn the phone towards her, multiple pictures of the two of you together littering the screen, all beneath the caption of.
A New Relationship blossoming in the WSL?!?!
Her throat bobs as she scans the article, the writer suspecting that there was a relationship blossoming between the two of you, that there was more to your relationship than just friends. They also mentioned their surprise at the idea that the two of you may be together, since you had an organ, most lesbian weren’t interested in.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as she takes your phone.
“I’m sorry Kris, you’re already going through a lot, and this just made it worse.” You mumble, running your fingers through your hair.
Her blue orbs scan the article again and again before she eventually places the phone on the nightstand beside you, the look on her face telling you she’s contemplating something.
You swallow hard, unable to take the silence before you move to your feet and leave the room, heading towards the living room and sitting down on the couch.
“Y/N?!” Kristie calls out as she follows close behind you, your head down, your hands covering your face.
"Hey...” She whispers as she drops to her knees in front of you, prying your hands away from your face before she cups your cheeks.
“What's wrong?” She asks and you shake your head, your eyes fluttering shut.
“I’m sorry I made it worse.” You mumble, unable to look her in the eye, that is until she tilts your chin upwards, your Y/E/C orbs meeting her bright blues.
“You didn’t make anything worse.” She whispers, cupping your cheek.
“They mentioned my...” You glance downward at your lap, realizing you were still sporting a hard on, making you blush.
Kristie sighs, the woman’s blue orbs darting from your face to the front of your boxers and back.
Your breath hitches when she moves to her feet, a sharp gasp leaving you when she climbs into your lap, her hands resting on the couch behind you.
“K-Kris...?” You stammer, willing yourself not to rock your hips into her.
She cups your cheeks, caressing your smooth, tanned skin gently before leaning forwards.
You go stiff as the woman’s lips meet yours, but you kiss back with no sense of hesitation, the woman’s breath hitching when you start kissing back.
You get lost in the kiss, your tongue flicking against the blonde’s bottom lip before her lips part, allowing you entry, your tongue tentatively brushing against her own.
“Kris.” You sigh between kisses, her arms wrapping around your neck as the kisses between you grow sloppy.
Reluctantly, you part, only to chase her lips for one last gentle kiss before you pull away, your Y/E/C orbs fluttering open at the same time as her blues.
“Wow.” You whisper, your chest heaving as you take in the blonde’s disheveled state, her cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” She confesses, your eyes widening.
“R-Really?” You stutter, the woman nodding.
“How could I not?” She asks, her hands settling on your shoulders.
“I love you Y/N, I always have.” She whispers, though to you, it sounds like she’s screaming.
You stare at her, mouth agape as you wait for the other shoe to drop, wait for yourself to wake up in your bed, the woman snuggled against your chest, fast asleep.
You however don’t wake up, considering you were already awake, the woman you’d loved since your childhood straddling your lap, and confessing her love to you.
Your throat bobs as you lean back in, your lips meeting hers in a much tamer kiss than the ones you’d just shared.
“I love you too.” You confess, the woman grinning as she throws her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly to her chest.
She giggles as you kiss her neck playfully, your fingers digging into her sides.
“Stoppp, that tickles.” She laughs, wiggling in your lap.
You still, a groan crawling up your throat that causes the two of you to spring apart, Kristie’s blue orbs wide when she realizes she’d been grinding against you.
“I-I-I'm sorry.” You stutter as you try to hoist the woman off your lap, but she doesn’t move, pushing her knees down hard, making it nearly impossible for you to move her.
Your eyes meet hers, a twinkle in her blue orbs you hadn’t seen before.
Her hands again find their way onto the back of the couch, her tongue swiping at her lips before she gives her hips a roll.
“K-Kris...” You stammer, your hands on her hips as she rolls them again, her core dragging against your hardness.
“Jesus.” She sighs, burying her face in your neck as she rocks against into you.
You wrap your arms tightly around her as she grinds harder into you lap.
“Fuck.” You moan into her neck, the couch squeaking beneath you, your hips bouncing.
You feel the telltale sign of your impending orgasm, the base of your hard cock starting to thrum in pleasure.
“Kristie, I’m--
She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours, your lips brushing with each roll of her hips.
“Close?” She asks and you nod rapidly, her tongue swiping at her lips as you moan against her neck, sounds she’d never heard before coming from your open mouth.
Sounds that make her core pulse and her clit throbbing.
You let out a growl, thrusting upwards as you come, the woman moaning as you twitch and quake against her, the front of your boxers now a darker shade thanks to your release.
You pant heavily, the woman’s hips still rocking gently against your own, her lips pursed.
You lean in, your lips meeting hers gently, the kisses, again, growing heated.
“Come here baby.” You whisper, the woman whining softly as you turn her around and pull her back into your lap, her back resting against your chest.
“Is this, okay?” You ask, tracing the hem of her shorts and she sighs.
“Yeah.” She says, her breath hitching when your hand brushes the front of her shorts, which is incredibly soaked, from not only your release, but her arousal.
“You’re so wet for me.” You whisper in her ear, earning a whimper as you trace her through her shorts, your fingers lightly brushing against where you know her clit is.
“Oh...” She gasps, pushing back into you.
“Right there?” You whisper in her ear, kissing the soft skin behind her ear.
“Right there... Please...” She begs, moaning when you start drawing small circles against the damp patch on her shorts.
Her hips rock, the woman grinding back into you, your flaccid cock again growing hard as she moans shamelessly, the woman near tumbling over the edge.
“Are you gonna come?” You whisper in her ear, the woman nodding rapidly, her moans raising an octave before she stiffens in your hold.
She quivers in your hold, her thighs shaking as she comes with a sinful moan that sounds a lot like your name.
She pants heavily, your fingers drawing small, teasing circles against her clit, prolonging her orgasm, only stilling when she grabs your wrist.
“Fuck.” She pants, the woman stilling entirely in your hold before turning around, again straddling your lap as she surges in.
Unlike the kisses before, it’s passionate, fueled not by lust, but by love, your kisses sweet and tender.
You eventually, reluctantly part, the two of you resting your foreheads against one another.
“Well, that was unexpected.” You say with a grin, the woman giggling as you bump the tip of your nose against hers.
“Yeah, it was.” She whispers, pecking your lips over and over again until you laugh.
You wrap your arms tightly around her, hugging her to your chest, the woman burying her face in your neck.
“Do you regret it?” She whispers nervously against your flesh, and you scoff, your hold on her tightening.
“I could never regret being intimate with the woman I love.” You turn your head, kissing her temple.
She pulls back, her shimmering blue orbs locking with your Y/E/C’s.
“Do you?” You ask, full well knowing what her answer was going to be.
She smiles cupping your cheeks, her lips brushing yours as she whispers.
“Definitely not. In fact...” She pauses, burying her face in your neck, the woman sucking on your pulse point.
“I wouldn’t mind doing it again.” She whispers, her lips brushing your earlobe.
She squeaks, as you lift her into the air, carrying her towards the bedroom, the woman giggling as you kiss her neck playful.
In reality, your day ended there, the two of you, instead, falling fast asleep in one another’s arms, right where the two of you belonged.
You couldn’t help but think that Sam Kerr’s biggest mistake became your biggest gain, because now, you had what she didn’t.
You had Kristie Mewis.
#uswnt x reader#woso x reader#kristie mewis x reader#kristie mewis imagine#let me know what you think guys!
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Title: Heat
Pairings: Na’vi Reader (23) x Lo’ak (20)
Warnings: MDNI
Contains: fingerings, oral, p in v, rough sex, forced, dom Loak, sub reader
Word Count: 2460
The hunting party decided to split up in an effort to catch the next meal. Meat has been scarce lately due to the Strumbeest retreating further into the hinterlands. This only made your jobs more challenging as the hunting party would now have to spend more days away from home to provide food for the clan. It's been a day already and 3 miles from home. You would have packed some belongings to camp out, the team expected to spend at least three days to get enough meat for the clan. You sighed in desperation, beads of sweat dripping down your neck and back, the weather has not been kind either. This dry season was one of the hottest the clan had ever encountered. Strangely enough, everyone was not as bothered by it today as you were.
“Y/n, how you doing over there?” Jake called out to you as you propped yourself up by the tree.
“I’m fine sir.” You breathed out rapidly as you stiffened up trying to regain your stance. You did not want to appear weak, it was rare for women to be a part of the hunting party but not impossible, three other women were already part of the team, and two decided to stay back to assist the clan with fishing.
“I told you we don’t need to bring women with us they just slow us down.” Your ears perked at the sudden comment, and your face grew hotter from the share gall of that comment you opened your mouth to turn to the younger Navi man but your were abruptly interrupted.
“HEY! We don’t make those comments here! Keep that narrow-minded thinking in your hut! Y/n has more endurance and more kills than you, so watch it!” Neteyam hissed as he flashed his fangs.
You shot him a thankful glance, to which he nodded in acknowledgement before returning to his father, Jake. You smiled as you observed Akwey shoot glares at both you and the Sullys. Neteyam has always backed you up no matter what, part of it was due to the fact that he was your hunting instructor at the get go. Insulting you was like insulting him and his teachings.
“Don’t worry about them y/n, you felt a familiar smack on your shoulder, they’re just jealous you’re one of dad’s favourites.” Lo’ak said smirking at you as he handed his canister offering you some water to combat the heat.
“Second to Neteyam, of course.” You said sheepishly.
“Alright guys we’ll split up.” Jake said beckoning the team to come forward. We know that the main river is here, he explained therefore if we split up we can reach them on either side, ambushing them.”
You nodded in acknowledgement before grabbing your bow and hunting knife. “Neteyam, you take your team and your brother and you head down east, we’ll go west.” Before leaving you see Jake whisper into Neteyam’s ear while looking in your direction.
“Alright guys we’ll split up, ensure your comms are working,” Neteyam said. “Lo’ak keep an eye on y/n, she doesn’t look so good, and we both know how stubborn she is.’’
“All right bro,
You rolled your eyes in annoyance. Usually you would have found some witty comeback, and purposely out run them to show them who was truly weak. However, the heat had you dazed, you were suddenly feeling weak when midway through the journey you stopped.
“Shit.” You watched as Neteyam led the team, beckoning some to take to the canopy of the trees. You felt a familiar wave overcome you as you began to sweat profusely. Your skin suddenly felt feverishly hot when the throbbing sensation began to grow in your lower stomach.
“Y/n?” Lo’ak stopped and turned to you, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I uh, shit, I uh I need to leave.” You stammered, face flushed from both embarrassment and agony.
“What? Y/n why are being so weir-” Lo’ak walkes swiftly towards you grabbing you by your arm when your pheromones punch him right in the nose. He loosens his grip and reaches to cover his nose. He stops to watch you, your body now soaked in sweat, your clothing and hair clinging to your skin, your top now clutching at every crevice of your mounds. Your eyes suddenly darken and pupils dilate as whimper escapes your lips.
Lo’ak turns away sharply. Walking away from you to meet with the team way ahead. You began to back away to continue to distance yourself from the party, avoiding the direction of the wind. One whiff of your pheromones and you’d have the team prying at you. You see in the distance Lo’ak and Neteyam mumble, before Neteyam sends the troops further up, with his second in command.
Lo’ak comes running towards you where you’re now propped up against the tree, in significant pain.
“Y/n, we’ll notify Dad so we can get him to send a Banshee to fly you back home. The comms are down so Neteyam is gonna go look for him. I’ll escort you back to base before the others pick up on your scent.”Lo’ak said hurriedly as he tied a torn garment around his nose and mouth in effort to prevent the infiltration of your intoxicating scent which has evidently gotten stronger.
“I don’t think I can make it back Lo.” You mumbled bent over in pain clutching to the tree.
“Y/n come on you’re stronger than this.” You hear Neteyam coach you, his hands are covering his nose as he struggles to maintain the distance between you two.
“So much for a woman being a part of the hunting party huh” you laughed as you lifted yourself up from the hunched over position.
You hear the brothers hiss at your bad joke in efforts of comforting you.
“Look after her brother.” Before you can thank Neteyam, he springs to his feet climbing to the canopy of the trees as he leaps from branch to branch.
Lo’ak leans to your side propping you on his shoulder as he guides you back to camp, unaware that his touch intensified your heat. Twenty minutes into the walk you began to feel your legs weaken. Not here. You thought to yourself. You pause, moving off from Lo’ak as he looks at you intensely.
“Break?”
“Something like that Lo” you mumbled breathlessly.
“I’ve never seen you like this y/n” he said huskily, his voice low, his face hardened.
“I had no intentions of anyone seeing me like this Lo, this one, this cycle is way off it’s normal course.” You admitted, slightly embarrassed that the Sullys are going to see you experience the onset of your heat.
You propped yourself onto a boulder, asking for water. He reaches out to hand you the canister, the garment over his nose seems to be useless as your pheromones permeate the forest air. You sip on the water in efforts to conserve, but the drops do nothing to tame the heat. You desperately splash the contents of the canister onto your face and chest.
“Don’t worry about it, I have another” Lo’ak says he back now facing you.
Your whimpers soon grow louder as you take advantage of the little privacy Lo’ak gives you. The heat growing between your legs intensifies with evey breath. In desperation to make it stop you quickly reach to touch yourself, but instead of easing the pain, it makes it worse. Your finger pressing slightly on your clothed clit does nothing but make it worse, you decide to push through. Rising to your feet only to collapse once more onto the boulder.
Lo’ak turns to face you, almost entranced by your weakened state, he takes a second to take it in, before reaching down to help you back up onto your feet. You both continue your walk back in silence minus your whimpers and breathless pants. Lo’ak’s grip is stronger and based on his contorted expression one can easily tell that his is fighting the pheromone scent. A sudden snap and within seconds you lose balance, clinging to the younger navi for support only to cause him to crash down with you.
You both groan in pain, looking up there is Lo’ak a tangled and heavy mess on top of you, your legs are sprawled, with his hips snuggly between them. The sudden pressure between your legs caused you to redden, as you began to feel the wetness pool. Lo’ak looks up to meet your eyes feeling the dampness, his eyes widen and the mess before him.
“Sorry y/n” he says huskily, quite aware of the moisture seeping from your loincloth.
You stutter in embarrassment.
“It’s okay y/n,sshh. I can make you feel better.” His eyes are no longer soft but narrowed, and lust-filled as he is now fully enthralled in your scent.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, to try and get up, but Lo’ak wouldn’t move. You contemplate for a minute as your eyes roam the younger Sully’s body tracing his chiseled shoulders down to his toned chest and lower to his abuse to see the vine dip, your core only getting hotter by the second.
“Just say it and I’ll make you feel better.”
You whimper at the sound of those words as you feel your conscience leaving you before leaning forward to press your lips into his. Within that second, all self-control gives way, you both are hungrily devouring each other rustling through the grass as you both undo your coverings His hands rough and hard, manhandle you as he strips you of your top to only grab the soft tender mounds and massage them roughly, biting and sucking at your neck simultaneously as you struggle to undo his loincloth. His focus now leaves your breast to your loincloth. In one swift movement, you’re naked before him as his fingers make their way to your folds. Expertly rubbing and massaging your clit before prying at your already wet entrance. His hands stop moving as he locks eyes with yours before plunging his fingers into yours. You arch your back a bit dumbfounded that the younger Sully was doing everything right. You reach down to grab his member, pumping him as he fingers you and soon your hand is covered with precum. He growls at the sensation and soon you find yourself begging him to fuck you senseless.
He flips you over on your tummy, lifting your hips slightly as he reaches down to now taste you. You gasp from emabrassment, but your heat makes you forget it in an instant. Your push yourself forcefully into his mouth while his tongure ciricles your throbbing bud. Your maons grow louder as you try to turn slight to catch a glimpse of Lo’ak. He smirks, stopping his assault before grabbing your hands, pinning them behind your back. He leans over, towering you, to kiss your check, dragging his fangs down your neck. You hissed at the sudden touch before feeling his mushroom tip push on your entrance. A sudden pressure is felt, as he pushes past, stretching your walls. You scream in both pain and pleasure, before the air is knocked out of you. A sudden thrust causes you to gasp, another hits your walls mercesillessy, another angled thrust finds your g-spot and now you’re spewing his name, begging him to make you cum as you push back onto his cock. Lo’ak lets go of your hands and now graps onto your fleshy waist, digging his nails into your skin as he rams himself into you forcefully. Your moans continue to grow louder as you feel your walls tighten with the familiar build in your lower stomach growing.
“Fuck y/n you’re so tight!” Lo’ak growls.
Within seconds you’re spewing your juices onto him as he throws his head back trying to hold his back. You scream his name as you grind yourself onto him to milk every bit of your cum from him when he suddenly spills into you. A wave of relief washes over you before you come to terms with what just happened.
You’re naked slumped on the forest floor and just had the sense fucked out of you by the younger Sully. You turn around to see Lo’ak recollecting himself with a smirk on his face.
“Didn’t think you were a screamer y/n”
Before you can answer you hear a familiar voice, stern and disappointed.
“Lo’ak what were you thinking!” Neteyam bellows, anger evident on his face. “You know better than to take advantage of someone in their heat, especially y/n.”
“Bro, I swear it wasn’t like that, her scent was so strong-”
“Shut the fuck up and get dressed! Your comms were on during the whole thing, I heard you!”
“Wha-, bro come on what are you talking ab-”
“You said just say it and I’ll make you feel better !” Neteyam yelled angrily.
Oh my god. You instantly went pale. “Did everyone hear?” You got up and asked flabbergasted while trying to tie your loincloth back on.
Neyetem doesn’t look at you, still angrily staring at his little brother. “No everyone ditched their comms as there was a signal problem due to the altitude, I kept mine on in case I contacted Dad on the way back.
You sighed in relief but couldn’t help but notice the bulge evident in Neteyam’s loincloth as he stared angrily at his brother. The familiar wave of your heat consuming you again.
P.S I hope you all liked this. I know I have some others to finish off lmao but this one just happened and I'm also not sure if I'll make a part 2 but it has been awhile since I posted. Thanks for the love thus far 💗❤️
Also the comms part was totally inspired by @puddleswimmingnerd-blog has amazing work particularly "Throat Comm Sex"🔥🔥🔥
#avatar fanfiction#avatar smut#avatar way of water#lo'ak x reader#lo'ak smut#loak sully#neteyam smut#neteyam x reader#jake sully#loak x y/n#avatar movie#loak x you#smut
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Hi! I wanted to know, how do you imagine the interactions betwen Tav and Raphael would have gone like, if they had been Tav’s fiend patron? (as in, they already start the game with the contract (we were robbed))
Oh, it would be such an interesting dynamic. And Raphael is ready as ever to adapt to a new situation and manipulate it to his own ends.
The last few days had been an utter whirlwind of madness. Relief at not falling to your death from the Nautiloid contrasting sharply with the dread of having an Illithid parasite in your brain. A ticking time bomb.
You had wondered how long it would be before Raphael came to collect you. As it turned out, you didn't have long to wait before you sensed your fiendish patron's presence. The back of your neck prickled, a shower of sparks cascading from an opening portal caught your eye.
"I had wondered where you'd fluttered off to." Raphael's cadence sounded familiar and almost comforting to your ears, maybe he could help you. "And you've gained such illustrious companions along the way." Mildly sardonic as his brown eyes landed on Karlach who'd frozen in place while stuffing her face with dinner.
"Raphael." You greeted, breathless from the surprise visit. "It's..." You hesitated on the rushed words. "...good to see you." Despite the nature of the devil, you felt relieved at seeing a familiar face.
Raphael bestowed an arch look upon you, the corner of his narrow mouth tilting up. "I always keep close watch over my most prized possessions. When you disappeared from even my purview, I must admit to experiencing my own form of concern." He approached and took your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up for inspection. "You look a little worse for wear. Has my favorite client suffered a chance of ill-fate?" He moved your head to the side, you half thought he would open your mouth to inspect your teeth. "You have a little visitor inside that lovely head, it seems." He snaked a hand around the back of your neck, a little possessive as his gaze sharpened on something you couldn't discern. "A rather unwelcome one, on all fronts." You could intuit those last words were not meant for you or your companions.
"Can you help?" You asked, the urgency of your situation thrumming cold in your veins.
Raphael chuckled, his gaze still narrowed on your wan face. "Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west? Can a young sapling be felled by an ax?" Raphael gave the nape of your neck a squeeze. "I live to help those in need, and perhaps this...little problem squirming in your brain offers just the opportunity I've been seeking."
"Seeking? How so?"
"As ever, you delight me with your inquisitive mind, however naive to think I'd offer you such information so readily." Raphael looked down at you, your noses almost touching. "Come, it's time to go home and have a more private chat."
#raphael bg3#raphael x tav#bedtime story#drabble#raphael baldur's gate 3#raphael x reader#bg3 drabble#raphael x you
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FilthX
Summary: X AU where Pearl isn't a homicidal maniac and R is the star everyone wants, including Lorraine
Word Count: 4.1K
Warnings: 18+ NSFW! Language, smut, strap-on sex
A/N: I think I've combined a least three asks/requests into this little guy, so its for all of you who asked for Lorraine. The pacing is absolutely out of control and self serving, and that just is what it is
This was art. Primal and undomesticated, animalistic artistry. People turned their noses up at it in public, but in private, everyone knows just how fast their own pants can come unzipped. Everyone watches porn or has at some point in their lives, and anyone who says they haven’t, well, they’re just outright lying to you.
It’s not like it was your dream to get naked and fuck on camera, but it paid the bills. And it was fun, that much was true. You were 21 when Wayne, Bobby, and Maxine found you, working as a wrangler for rodeos on the west side of Texas. They took one look at you, with your broad shoulders and tapered waist, and knew you’d be an instant success. They propositioned you, promising you wouldn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to and that Bobby would rock your world. You went with them that night and never went back to the rodeo.
Now, Wayne has this great idea to film at some guesthouse in the country, and he’s hired a pretentious film student called RJ to record what he’s promising will be a universal success. A tasteful, dramatically shot film of the picturesque countryside and cunts. But the thing that’s really caught your attention is who tags along beside RJ. You can’t tell if she’s his girlfriend or not, but you don’t really care because the girl is absolutely stunning.
When she climbs into the van behind RJ, you don’t even hide the fact that you can’t stop staring. She tucks herself into the corner, quiet and shy, her eyes wide behind the dark curtain of hair falling around her face. You can feel Bobby watching you, a knowing smirk on her face. Jackson slaps your knee, grinning ear to ear.
“Don’t you go barkin' up the wrong tree now y/n, some girls are too good for you.” He says, making Bobby giggle.
“Oh, I don’t know, Jackson, I think she could convince just about any girl to set aside her halo,” Bobby says, eyeing the girl behind RJ.
RJ frowns over his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle, and glances back at the girl. “Lorraine here volunteered to help me with the film, that’s all.”
Maxine turns around in the front seat, eyeing Lorraine, “Oh, I’m sure she did. Tell us, mouse, you ever done somethin like this before?”
Lorraine’s lips turn down in apparent distaste, and she shakes her head no. Maxine’s eyes light up, and a condescending smirk stretches across her lips. You brace yourself, knowing she’s going to eat this poor girl alive.
“You don’t like pornography, mouse? You tellin' me you ain’t never seen two beautiful bodies, ruttin together and just felt all hot and bothered? Enough to slip those pretty little fingers in-“
“Enough Maxine,” you interrupt, noticing pink creeping up Lorraine’s neck, turning the tips of her ears red.
Maxine gives you an exasperated look and sighs, “You know mouse, if you are gonna give it a spin, y/n is the ride of a lifetime.”
You roll your eyes, and Jackson playfully slaps the side of Maxine’s chair, “Maxine, you told me I was the ride of a lifetime just yesterday!” He exclaims, sticking his bottom lip out in staged hurt.
You bark out a laugh and kick him, “No way Jackson, you slept with my girl?”
“Your girl?” He cries, “These ladies are all mine!”
“Please, both of you belong to us, if anything.” Bobby retorts, smacking on her bubblegum and twirling her blonde hair between her fingers.
The three of them continue to bicker, but you carefully remove yourself from the conversation to shoot Lorraine a soft smile. She gives you the smallest of nods and looks down at the equipment in her hands. RJ narrows his eyes at you but quickly averts them when you smile at him, flexing your arm discreetly.
The van turns down a long dirt road, marking your arrival to the promised countryside. Wayne parks aside the farmhouse, and you all clamber out, gathering your luggage and helping with the film equipment. Wayne sorts out your arrangements with the old man sitting on the porch, and you all make your way to the small guest house. On the walk over, you can hear RJ nagging Lorraine about carrying her weight and wince when you hear him call her a prude. You consider standing up for her but decide against it, you hardly even know them, and you don’t want to stick your nose in someone else’s shit.
Bobby, on the other hand, is more than happy to stick her nose in. She hooks her arm through RJs, her hands unsurprisingly empty of any luggage or equipment. She strokes his arm and giggles at him, wrapping him around her finger. She pulls him ahead of the group, batting her eyelashes and picking at his shirt, leaving you and Lorraine to bring up the rear. You smile down at her, and she glances up at you, quickly looking down at her feet.
“Don’t listen to Maxine,” you tell her, dragging your feet to slow your pace down to hers, “she gets territorial.”
Lorraine readjusts her grip on the box she’s carrying and shrugs, “It’s okay. And I never said I thought what y’all are doin is wrong.”
You tilt your head at her, “Your face kinda said it for ya, gorgeous.”
The box in her arms slips, and she stumbles, trying not to drop it. She’s blushing again, you see it creeping up her neck when she tosses her hair to the side over her shoulder.
“It’s not that,” she clarifies, “she called me mouse.”
“Ah,” you say, your eyebrows raising in realization, “yeah, I guess that wasn’t the nicest nickname to slap on ya, was it? Hey, you need help with that?”
You stop and tuck the two suitcases in your hands under your arm, offering your empty hand out to help her. She fumbles with the box again, trying to get a better grip, and gives up, nodding her head. You scoop it from her hands easily, wrapping one arm around it and continuing to walk. She falters for a moment, watching you carry everything.
She jogs a few steps to catch up, and looks up at you, “You been with them long?”
“Few years, why?”
“You seem…different. From them.”
You snort, “What, like, not depraved?”
She shrugs, her arms swinging out wide as she tries to keep pace with you, “Yeah, I guess. Quieter.”
“Oh don’t you worry, I can be as debauched as the rest of them. I usually just save that for when there’s far less clothing.” You wink at her with a grin, making her blush again.
“So what they were sayin…” she hesitates, “about you…”
You stay silent, quietly choosing to force her into speaking the question you already know she’s asking. Forcing her out of her comfort zone.
She chews at the inside of her lip, “Do you film with Jackson at all?” She asks, beating around what she really wants to ask.
You chuckle, “Oh no, honey, he couldn’t handle me on his best day. Besides, Bobby and Maxine are much prettier’n he is.”
“So…how-“ she cuts herself off, her brow furrowed.
You stop in front of the door, turning to face her, “I have my ways. Why? You curious, Lorraine?” You drawl her name out, pressing your tongue hard against your teeth, your eyebrow raised.
She takes a sharp breath in, her mouth opening and closing as she sorts through her justification for asking. She’s saved by Wayne, who throws the screen door open from the inside.
“Y/n, let’s go! I wanna get this first scene done before the sun sets.”
You nod at him and turn back to Lorraine, winking at her again, “Duty calls.”
——
The bedroom is set up with a camera sitting on a tripod at the foot of the bed. RJ is standing behind it, tapping his foot nervously. Lorraine hovers in the corner, the boom mic resting on her shoulder. The scene Wayne wants to film is between you and Bobby, with heavy involvement from a particularly large dildo strapped to your waist. The scene plays out, you know the acting is horrific, but that’s not the point of the movie.
The point is quickly made when your pants are dropped around your ankles and the dildo springs out. You go through the motions, stripping Bobby down and railing her, stopping when you’re told so they can change the camera angle, and then starting back up on Wayne’s command. Bobby is more enthusiastic than usual, and not for any lack of effort on your part. But you think it has something to do with proving Maxine’s point to Lorraine, who is trying her very best not to tremble under the boom.
You catch yourself glancing over at her, listening to Bobby moan, and you begin to really put on a show. She’s bent over the bed, one of your hands on her waist and the other pressing between her shoulder blades.
“CUT CUT CUT!” Wayne’s voice brings you to a screeching halt making Bobby whine into the mattress.
You look over your shoulder at him, releasing her hips, “What the fuck man, she’s almost there!”
“Yeah what’s the deal Wayne, y/n is giving the fucking performance of a lifetime,” Bobby says, breathless.
“You keep looking away from her, it’s taking away from the scene,” RJ grumbles.
Maxine laughs from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest “I think the church mouse has her distracted.”
Wayne looks at you and runs his hand over his chin, “You gonna focus any time soon y/n, or do we need to switch you out with Jackson?”
“No fuckin way!” You reply, gripping Bobby’s hips again, “Roll your god damned camera and let me finish my job.”
Wayne rests his hands on his hip, nodding, “That’s what I thought. Now let’s wrap this up. Bobby, you know what to do.”
———
The group has settled into the living room, clothes returned, and cameras off. You finished the scene without another glance in Lorraine’s direction, and Bobby did her job in the way only she could. You knew the scene was going to be amazing, and you were feeling proud of yourself. Cheap whiskey is poured into small paper cups, and everyone is in good spirits.
The conversation gradually turns to the morals of making pornography and the lesson you’ve all learned about taking your youth for granted. The talk seems to spark something in Lorraine, she takes a sip of her whiskey and leans forward, eyes bright.
“I want to do a scene in the movie.”
The room goes quiet, all eyes are turned to her. You fight every urge in you not to smile like a schoolboy who’d found a puppy on his doorstep. Bobby grins at you, and Maxine pushes your leg with her foot from the end of the couch. A shadow passes over RJs face, his feelings clear on the matter.
“You can’t be in the movie Lorraine.”
“Why not?” She asks, cocking her head in challenge.
Maxine pipes up, “Yeah, RJ, why not?”
“She just can’t.” He says, gritting his teeth.
Bobby frowns, “You told me she ain’t your girlfriend no more, RJ. And even if she was, you don’t get to tell her what to do.”
RJ’s jaw drops open, unable to form words. Lorraine looks smug and flashes a grateful smile at Bobby. You’re full-on smiling now, giddy at the thought of seeing this play out.
Wayne lightly slaps Maxine’s leg with a smile, “You wanna take Jackson for a ride then, church mouse?”
Jackson laughs, “Oh no sir, she don’t want me.”
You wink at Jackson, thankful for his deflection. Wayne nods solemnly and looks over at you.
“What you think y/n, you wanna take that big boy between your legs for another spin?”
You throw back the rest of the whiskey, wincing at the taste, “I think I can find it in me.”
RJ stands, “We can’t film it tonight, the lighting is bad.”
“Hm,” Wayne hums, squinting out the dark window, “he ain’t wrong. How’s about we plan for tomorrow, that work for you, church mouse?”
Lorraine swallows the last of her drink and shrugs, nodding, “Guess it’ll have to.”
——
When you drop into your bed for the night, you fall asleep almost instantly. Work always did that to you, siphoned off any gas you had in the tank, and left you dead tired. The whiskey made you feel pleasantly heavy, and you sank into a sweet, dream-filled sleep.
You weren’t sure how long you had been out, but you woke slowly. It took you a moment to figure out where you were, the silver moonlight washing into the window and the thin cotton blanket scratching at your chin. You blink a few times, trying to figure out what woke you up, but a weight shifting on the bed behind you told you what you needed to know. You roll onto your back, half expecting to see RJ there with a steak knife to your throat.
You rub your eyes with your knuckles to ensure you were seeing what you thought you were seeing. Lorraine was crawling into your bed, wearing nothing but a yellow bra and panties. Something cold lands on your stomach, and you look down to see your strap-on rising and falling on your belly with your breathing.
“Lorraine?” You say, your voice raspy with sleep.
“Put it on.” Is all she replies, sitting back on her heels next to your elbow.
“What?” Your sleep-muddled brain is struggling to catch up.
“Put the thing on,” she gestures to your strap-on, her eyes wide and her lips parted.
Your brows knit together in confusion, “We ain’t filmin til the mornin'.”
She sighs, “If you don’t want to, I can go back to my room.”
You blink hard again and finally realize that she’s really there and she’s really asking what she’s asking. She moves to get off the bed, but you reach out and grab her by the elbow. You push yourself up the bed, sitting against the headboard, the strap-on sliding off to your side. Her eyes flit down to your exposed chest, and you smirk, proud to show her your body again. She reaches out timidly, her hands shaking with the slightest tremble. You watch her face as she runs her fingers down your stomach, tracing over the hard-set lines between the muscle there. She licks her lips and looks back into your eyes, catching you with a smirk on your lips.
You pull her into you gently, your hand on the back of her neck, and kiss her. She’s stiff, unsure at first. You pull back and look into her eyes, searching for a signal not to continue. She leans forward further and kisses you again, her lips softer and her hands wandering. Through cracked eyelids, you see hers close, and you pull her in closer. She swings one leg over you, sitting in your lap, her hands running over your shoulders.
You run your fingers down her spine, sending goosebumps across her skin. Your hands find purchase on her hips as you pull her closer, encouraging her to grind into your lap. She whimpers into your lips, and your heart begins to pound. You’re a little taken aback at your own excitement. You had sex for a living, and you enjoyed it, but this felt different. This wasn’t for everyone else to enjoy, this was for the two of you only. You hardly knew this girl, and yet, you found yourself being impossibly gentle with her.
She breaks your lips apart and leans back, reaching for the dildo at your side. She bites her lip, evaluating it, and looks back at you.
“You don’t have to, you know.” You say softly, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear.
“I want to,” she says and hands over the harness.
You take it from her, your lips curling up in a devious smirk. You push her to the side and flip her onto her back, your knees between her legs. Her breath leaves her in a huff when her back hits the mattress. You work at sliding the harness on, tightening the buckles, and ensuring it won’t move. When your eyes return to her face, she looks positively delicious. Edible even. Her eyes are heavy lidded, her full lips parted and pouty, her skin bright in the moonlight. She waits for you, her arms above her head, completely surrendered to you.
Your tongue wets your lips as you take her in, allowing the tension to build between you. You lean forward on your hands and press a kiss into her stomach just below her bra, your tongue lazily tasting her skin. She gasps and winds her fingers into your hair, your tongue making its journey over the plane of her stomach. Her breathing quickens when you reach her hip bones, her stomach twitching under your mouth. You glance up to meet her dark eyes and pull her panties down her legs. She whines when you kiss the inside of her thigh, pushing her legs open further. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling at your scalp.
You kiss up her leg, drawing small sounds of excitement out of her above you, encouraging you. The sweet, musky smell of her arousal fills your senses, sharpening your mind to a razor point. You run your palms up the tops of her thighs and press down on her hips, driving her into the mattress as you run your tongue through her. A quiet, throaty moan leaves her lips, your touch surprising her. You work into her entrance, savoring every centimeter of her on your tongue. You pull out and drag it flat across her clit, the pressure soft and exploratory. Her hand leaves your hair and retreats to the pillow, where she grips the cotton until her knuckles are white.
You lick a stripe from her entrance over her clit again, working her up. You don’t want her to cum from this, you just want to get her going. You wrap your lips around the swollen bundle of nerves and suck on it, loving the way her back arches off the bed when you do it. She’s dripping down onto the mattress, and you decide it’s enough, to begin with, so you lift your head and kiss the inside of her thigh. Your crawl up her body and her hands are reaching for you, pulling your face down into a feverish kiss. She groans at her own taste on your tongue, her fingers right around the back of your neck. The dildo drags up her thigh, making her whimper into your mouth, one of her hands racing down your back to grip at your ass.
Just when you thought you knew what she wanted, she’s pushing you over, flipping you on your back. You help her and swing around, pulling her to sit on your stomach as you fall back. She’s hot and wet on your belly, rutting against the ridges of your abs. Before she can get much further, you sit up and wrap your hands behind her back, kissing her chest and unhooking her bra in one fell swoop. She lets it fall to the side and pushes you onto your back, leaning over you, her hair falling into your face. She kisses you quickly and then pulls back, lifting her hips and gripping the base of the dildo in her hand beneath her. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, watching her rub the tip around her entrance, coating it in her slick.
She sits slowly on it, letting it sink into her inch by inch, one hand pressing on your chest, the other holding the dildo in place. When her hips settle into yours, the whole toy inside of her, she sighs. It makes you feel like an explosion, fragments of what you thought you knew ripping out and embedding themselves into the walls of the room. Your mouth drops open when she runs her fingers down your body and then up her own. She rolls her hips forward, rocking them up on the backstroke. You’d always found strap-on sex extremely satisfying, but for the first time, you’re wishing you could feel everything. You’d give your left arm to feel the toy being gripped inside of her. The thought nearly takes your breath away.
She begins to move in earnest, the muscles in her legs flexing as she rocks over your hips. When she runs her hand into her own hair, her fingers combing it out of her face, you feel the itch to have her closer. You reach out and settle for holding her hips, pushing and pulling her as you begin to roll your own, keeping the timing and rhythm perfectly on her pace. You slide one hand from her hip over her stomach, up to her nipple, and roll your fingertip over it, her hips moving faster. The lewd sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, only broken up by your occasional grunting and her soft moaning.
She shudders and drops down on her hands over your body, panting, a bead of sweat rolling from her neck to the hollow of her throat. You watch it puddle there, rocking side to side with the movement of your bodies. You bend your knees and plant your feet into the bed, giving yourself support to properly fuck her from underneath, rocking her forward with every thrust. A low groan tears out of her throat, too loud for a quiet, sleeping house. You pull her down into a kiss to silence her, forcing her whining down to a more appropriate timbre.
Your arms wrap around her back, and you hold her weight as you sit up with her in your lap, still riding you. She rests her arms over your shoulders, her fingers pressing into the muscles in your back. Her fingertips soon turn into nails, the stinging making you gasp. She drops her head on your shoulder, holding you tight. Her hips jerk off her cadence, her breathing uneven and shallow. Her teeth dig into the skin of your shoulder, making you groan in her ear. She releases you and throws her head back, using the back of your neck to anchor herself.
Her body freezes up, her hips moving in choppy strokes. You can feel her dripping around the toy inside of her, running down your legs. It’s enough to send a perfectly sane person off the edge, and you’re suddenly aware of why people were able to be seduced into cults. Her body was an altar, and you were drinking her in like holy water, content to die of thirst if she so wished it. She collapses against your chest, and you fall back into the pillows. You give her time to recover, letting her catch her breath and cool off as she put the puzzle of her mind back together. Eventually, she lifts herself off the dildo and rolls to your side, her head resting on your chest.
As much as you want to continue touching her, you want the harness off your hips more. It was squeezing you in an unpleasant pinch, and the hours you’d spent in it meant chafing had begun. You carefully unbuckle it without moving her from your chest and push it down to your knees. You use your feet to wriggle out of it and kick it off the end of the bed, sighing in relief.
Lorraine places her hands on top of one another over your chest and rests her chin on them, looking up at you, “I imagined it was gonna be good,” she says, a sleepy drawl in her voice, “but I had no idea it’d be like that.”
You yawn and take a lock of hair between your fingers, twirling it around them and rubbing it with your thumb, “You should give yourself credit where credit is due, you rocked that like it was your business.”
She smiles, her eyes crinkling, “Tomorrow it’ll be my business, tonight was just because I wanted to.”
Your eyes are sliding shut in spite of yourself, the whiskey and exertion settling into your bones again. Lorraine presses a kiss on your ribs and pushes herself up. You crack your eyes open and shake your head, your hand resting on her back.
“Stay.” You tell her, closing your eyes again.
She takes a moment to consider, then pulls the blankets back and crawls under them, covering you with the other end. Just before you fall into the abyss of sleep, you feel her press her nose into your neck, drape her arm and a leg over your body, and you’re out like a light.
#lorraine day x reader#lorraine day#x movie#tara carpenter#vada cavell#phoebe atwell#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x reader
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Bitter Sweet Series
Part One: Long Time No See
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: language, underage drinking, references to alcohol
A/N: Welcome to Part One of the Bitter Sweet Series! A couple of things to note: for the purposes of this fic, Travis is only one year older than Joe and they go to rival fictional high schools (Joe attends Mountain Oak High and Travis goes to South Fork High School). Joe grew up in the fictional town of West Elm, a suburb of Cincinnati (this is only really relevant for this chapter and subsequent flashbacks). In present day, which takes place in 2020, Joe has just been drafted to the Cincinnati Bengals and Travis is already playing for the KC Chiefs. COVID doesn't exist in this AU.
Night Before Graduation : May 23rd 2014
" Joseph Lee Burrow, how many time do I have to..." Joe frantically closed his laptop just as his mom walked into his room, swinging around in his desk chair to face her, hoping to conceal his screen. "It's time for dinner. What're you doing?" She narrowed her eyes as she searched his room, spotting his graduation cap and gown draped over the door of his closet.
"Uh...", he paused. There was no way he was going to tell her he was in the middle of writing a love letter to his best friend, a failsafe in case he couldn't muster up the courage to declare his feelings to her tonight like he originally planned. "I'm uh, looking at porn?" The inflection in his voice was unintentional, but he was bad at coming up with lies on the fly, he always was. His face contorted with embarrassment as he raked his fingers through his blonde hair.
Joe's mom bit at her bottom lip to stifle a laugh, moving into the room to sit at the foot of his bed. She straightened out his comforter before taking a seat, watching as Joe squirmed in his chair from the corner of her eye, probably desperate to get back to his computer.
"What kind of porn are you watching?" She asked the question so casually with a shrug, Joe couldn't tell if it was a setup or not. "I'm sorry?", he croaked out, his throat dryer than the desert. "We've never talked about it before. What are you into, blondes, brunettes?"
"I'm not talking with you about this, mom!" He had managed to avoid having the birds and bees conversation with his parents out of pure luck, and thought he was in the clear about having to talk about anything regarding sex with either of them. Joe was starting to sweat through his t-shirt, he could feel the beads running down the back of his neck. "What? You think that just because I'm your mother, I don't know about porn? How do you think you got here?" If there was ever a moment Joe wished that he could evaporate from where he sat, it was now.
"Please! I'm begging you to stop." Joe's usually pale face was a beet red. "If you love me at all, we will not have this conversation."
"Fine, if you don't want to tell me, don't", his mother teased, knowing that was far from what she had caught Joe doing. Confident she had made him as uncomfortable as possible, a mother's god given right, she stood and pulled Joe's gown from door. She rubbed the green polyester fabric between her fingers.
"You know, your first day of pre-school, your father and I were so worried about you, because you were such a shy kid. We just wanted to make sure that you made friends. I was a mess as we walked you into the classroom, just absolutely sobbing." She smiled gently as the memory returned to the forefront of her mind. "You clung to me with your little Scooby Doo backpack, and before you could even sit down, this little girl with jet black hair, and these purple overalls came running over to you and asked you to play."
A grin slipped on Joe's face. He didn't have many early memories, but he would never forget the day he met her. "She had a pink bandaid on her cheek because she had fallen face first off the monkey bars." Joe pressed his fingers on his own face to match where the band-aid would have been, letting out a quiet laugh. "She was fearless."
"She was", she chuckled, grabbing a hanger out of the closet, and draping the gown over the sides and hanging it up on the rack. "The two of you ran over to play, and you forgot all about me." The nostalgia was overwhelming, and Joe wasn't sure if he was happy or sad looking back on his past. A lot had changed, and tonight was sure to solidify the fact that there was no going back.
"Are you planning to tell her tonight?" Joe's head shot up at his mother's question. "I don't know what you're talking about", he said in the most unconvincing tone, letting out an exasperated sigh. God, he really needed to get better at lying. "Tonight would be the perfect time", she sat back down on the bed, taking Joe's plush football in her arms. "I think her family is packing up to move the day after graduation."
"So the porn line wasn't convincing, huh?" Joe leaned back in his chair, his frustration and nervousness starting to cloud his mind. Each passing minute he was closer to backing out. "You my son, are a terrible liar, and from the moment you first met Natalie, I have known two things. One, the two of you would be best friends for the rest of your lives, and two, you are madly in love with her. Always have been."
She was right. It might be juvenile and fleeting, but he was in love with Natalie Holcomb, had been for as long as he could remember. "How do you tell someone that you've known your entire life that you want to be more than friends?" The farthest he had gotten with his letter was the first sentence: "I know we've known each other for a long time...". It was hardly a Shakespearean sonnet.
"Just tell her how you feel. Make sure it comes from the heart. A girl always wants to hear they're loved." The advice was good, but it was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. His heart didn't know what it wanted, it was an unreliable source. "That was no help at all, mom." He spun around in his chair, hoping the dizziness could replace all of the uncertainty.
"Well, all I know, is that if a boy told me he loved me, I would be very flattered." Joe stopped himself, his vision still bouncing around as he tried to focus on his mom as she stood in the doorway again. "Yeah, well, I don't know", he pushed out with a sharp breath, hanging his head in his hands.
"I wish you all the luck my sweet boy", she remarked as she pushed her self off the threshold with her hip. "Remember your curfew."
****
A few hours later, Joe had a stomach full of spaghetti in his stomach, and the nerves were threatening to make him spill it all over the pavement as he biked over to Natalie's house. Her family had moved into town over 15 years ago, just a couple of houses down from the Burrows.
Her father was a retired sergeant in the Marines, who had moved to private contracting, dragging his family with him across the country every time he changed jobs. He was strict and conservative, rarely letting Natalie have friends over for a sleepover, and would probably have an aneurysm if she tried to sneak a boy in, so they always had to get creative if they wanted to hang out after school.
Joe hid his bike behind a large hedge and scooped a couple of rocks from the landscaping as he strode up the walkway of her house. He climbed the large oak tree, like he'd done hundreds of times over the years, huffing as he pulled himself to be level with the roof on the second story.
"Fuck!" The expletive slipped out of his mouth as his sneaker slipped against the trunk of the tree. He quickly climbed onto a concealed branch, holding his breath as he waited for Mr. Holcomb to come out with his bat at the loud noise. After a minute he realized he was in the clear.
Light poured out of Natalie's bedroom window, and Joe could hear the bass from her stereo through the glass, watching her as she danced around her room to the music. She had this beautiful smile as she sung the lyrics; it leaned slightly to the left when she giggled, but he thought it was perfect. Everything about her was perfect in Joe's eyes. The way her brows would stick together when she was deep in thought, or how her dimples would show when she was telling him a joke.
Joe chuckled to himself as he watched her step around the room. Sure, her dancing was terrible, but he could easily overlook that. She had exchanged her pink overalls for a pair of vintage jeans and a band t-shirt, but in Joe's eyes, very few other things had changed. She was still the charismatic, brave and funny girl that he met that first day of pre-school, and who he had never been able to get out of his mind.
The doubt quickly returned, and he tried his best to shake it off. If he confessed how he felt to her, and it didn't work out, he would risk losing her forever, and he wasn't sure that was something he wanted. But, if it did work out, he'd be getting the only thing he'd ever wanted for his entire life. It was a gamble, one that he was willing to take.
"Its now or never", he whispered, kissing one of the rocks in his hands for good luck. He tossed it at her window, flinching as he heard a loud clink against the glass.
He waited a few seconds before tossing another, and a third before Natalie finally appeared, lifting the pane open and poking her head out. "Burrow, I was beginning to think you weren't coming." There was that smile again. Joe felt his knees grow weak, grasping at a branch to steady himself. "I got stuck having a conversation about porn with my mom."
Natalie smirked, tilting her head to the side in amusement. "Well, you'll have to tell me all about that. I'll be right down." She slammed the window shut, and Joe listened as the music turned off and her room went dark. He jumped down and walked to the backyard, easily climbing over their weathered fence.
When they first moved in, Natalie's dad built her and her siblings a tree house, and over time it had become the place where they would hang out at night and drink cheap liquor they had stollen from their parents.
"Here." Natalie handed Joe a half-empty plastic bottle as he reached the entrance of the treehouse, where she was sitting on a blanket she had laid out. Joe took a swig, immediately regretting it when his throat began to burn. "What is this?" He grimaced, letting out a forced cough. "I dunno. The label was ripped off. Let me see." Joe settled on the blanket, handing the bottle back. She almost downed the entire thing before stopping for a breath. "Tastes like bourbon." Joe signaled he wasn't interested when she tried to hand it back. He was too nervous, and drinking only made him more anxious.
"Didn't think we'd actually get here." Joe followed Natalie's gaze out the open window, where they had a perfect view of the expansive neighborhood. "What? Graduation? Did you think we weren't going to graduate?" Joe chucked one of the rocks he was hanging onto out of the window. Natalie scoffed. "Well, with that arm of yours and your scholarship to Ohio State, I knew you were going to graduate. Me, I wasn't so sure about."
Joe nodded, his eyes focused on his feet. He had helped Natalie study for a lot of her classes, and most times she was barely passing. It wasn't that she wasn't smart; far from it. She was just always distracted. If it wasn't a hobby, it was a boyfriend, and it was like you couldn't get her to stop running around.
"Just like a shark", she'd always say, "If you stop swimming, you die."
The oldest of three siblings, everyone could see it was an act of rebellion against her strict parents and the way she was raised, but Joe admired the fact that she couldn't be tied down. She was the excitement in their friendship and he was the grounded one. They needed each other, Joe a lot more than Natalie.
"You're in your head again." Joe snapped out of his haze at Natalie's voice. "Sorry", he shook his head, "just got a lot on my mind." The letter was burning a hole in his pocket. He watched as she took another gulp of the unidentified liquid, finishing the bottle. "Care to share with the class?" She choked out the question, her eyes closed. He plucked the paper from his pocket, folding it up tightly so it fit in his palm. "Actually Nat.."
Joe was stopped when Natalie's phone buzzed, the backlight illuminating their faces in the dark treehouse. "Oh, he really needs to fuck off", she cursed under her breath, frantically typing on her phone. "Something wrong?" Joe was glad to have a reprieve, slipping the note back into his pocket. Her phone pinged again with another notification, Natalie responding instantly, before she put it down.
"Its Travis. We're in a fight."
Joe groaned at the name. Travis Kelce, his long time rival on the football field, and the one person he hated more than anyone. He just happened to be Natalie's on again, off again boyfriend all through high school, but that was unrelated, of course.
"A fight?". Joe hoped he didn't sound too eager, his voice breaking as he spoke. "I didn't know you two were back together. I thought you broke up after prom last year." Travis went to the high school across town, rivals to Joe and Natalie's high school, and was known to be trouble. When he showed up drunk to the junior/senior prom their junior year, they had a very public breakup in the parking lot in of the school gym.
"We did", she drug out her words, "but he's really changed after going to college. He's so much more mature now. He apologized to me after my birthday party last month and we got back together." Joe gave her a weak smile, moving to grab one of the other bottles available. He quickly twisted the cap and flicked it across the room, taking a long drink, the alcohol moving so fast down his esophagus, it bypassed his tastebuds completely.
"I'm planning to go to UC, so we can be together." Down the hatch the liquid went again, Joe finishing off the bottle. He shook the empty plastic at her. "Do we have any more?"
On the football field, Joe was just as good of a player as Travis was, but he didn't fit the jock persona, and he was pretty sure Travis' picture was next to the word jock in the dictionary. They shared many accolades and were hometown heroes in their own right, both set to go into the NFL after college, but while Joe was focused on being the best player he could be, Travis was focused on making Joe's life a living hell. Whenever they played, Travis was a downright bully on the field, calling Joe names and taunting him after every play. Natalie might have been blind to Joe's feelings for her, but Travis wasn't, and he made sure Joe knew that Travis had what he wanted.
Hurt, and feeling like Natalie was slipping away, Joe never made it a secret how much he disliked Travis, but she didn't want to hear what anyone had to say about her boyfriend. It really strained their relationship, and Joe wasn't sure they were going to be friends anymore on the other side. He finally got a break when they broke up and Travis graduated, playing football for the University of Cincinnati, and he felt like he finally had his friend back.
"You should really slow down", Natalie laughed. "Why should I?" Joe jumped to his feet, wavering as he started to feel the effects of the alcohol. "This is reason to celebrate! We're graduating, and you're back with your fuck boy of a boyfriend." Joe was shouting, he was sure of it. He stumbled over his feet, knocking into the wall.
"You're ridiculous, Joe. Why have you never liked Travis?" Joe let out a curt laugh, no humor behind it. "Oh, I don't know, Nat. Maybe because he treats you like shit, or because he makes my life a living hell every time I see him?" Joe slurred his words, feeling the room start to spin. He clapped a hand to his head, slowly sliding down the wall.
"He's just messing around with you. He would never hurt you, he knows how much you mean to me." Joe tried to look at Natalie, but her figure wouldn't stay still. "He's not a good guy Natalie, and you're dumb if you can't see that." His vision stilled just in time to see the hurt on his best friend's face.
"I think you should go, Joe." He wasn't sure how he got to this point, but this was far from a declaration of love. He was losing the only person he truly cared about, not because of vulnerability, but due to his own stupidity and underlying jealousy. Joe closed his eyes tight for a second, hoping he'd wake up from this nightmare.
"Joe. Please leave." Natalie stood, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going." He groaned out, waving a hand in the air to brush her off, his eyes still shut. He listened as Natalie climbed down the rickety ladder, each rung squeaking as she stepped, finally hearing the back door slam closed.
"You really fucked this up, Burrow, Joe said to himself, his head starting to pound. He took his time standing, grabbing onto any flat surface that he could. He approached the entrance, and peeked his head over the edge, the ground appearing miles away, swaying in a way that made him think he was going to be sick. "Here goes nothing." With the first step, Joe completely missed the ladder, failing to grab onto anything, hurdling toward the ground, his back landing in the grass with a thud.
"Ow." He moaned and groaned out as he laid still for a minute, moving his limbs to make sure nothing had broken. Realizing the only thing damaged was his pride, he slowly got to his feet.
Thankfully, he made it back over the fence without any trouble and headed back toward his bike. He stopped as he passed the trash cans lined up against the house. He had missed his chance to tell Natalie how he felt, and there was no way she was ever going to feel the same as he did. He took the note out of his pocket and tossed it in the trash.
Happy graduation.
****
Present Day
Joe finished off his beer, placing the bottle down on the wooden table. "Alright, I'm getting you another one." Sam was quick to snatch it away before Joe could object, standing up from his chair. "No, seriously, I've had enough", Joe chuckled, waving his hands in front of him in defeat.
Joe had been riding high all summer after being drafted first overall to the Cincinnati Bengals. All of his hard work at Ohio State and LSU had paid off, and he was finally getting to live his dream of playing football professionally. He had been home for the last couple weeks visiting his family until it was time to report to training camp. His childhood friends had dragged him out to a bar to celebrate, and he was officially three beers deep, and more than tipsy.
"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't help you celebrate getting drafted into the fuckin' NFL, man?!" Sam gestured toward the other patrons in the bar. "First fuckin' pick, in case anyone was wondering!" The group pounded the table in celebration, cheers and yells drowning any attempt for Joe to decline any more drinks, as hard as he tried.
"I'm serious." Joe raised his voice as everyone was starting to settle down. "I appreciate it, but I have practice tomorrow. I can't show up drunk."
"Damn, you're a kill-joy." Sam took a jab at Joe, patting him on the shoulder and shaking him, before making his way through the crowd towards the bar.
"So Joe, you finally gonna make Bengals fans proud?", Chris, one of Joe's friends from middle school, raised his drink toward his buddy, earning a few jeers from the group, most of which were not Bengals fans. "That's the plan." Joe smiled, nerves for tomorrow starting to set in. "I just wanna be the best quarter back that I can be." He glanced at his phone. It was after 10pm, and he really just wanted to crawl into his bed and go to sleep. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. If he played it right, he could slip out without anyone noticing.
"Where you going, J?" Just as Joe stood up, Sam returned, double fisting a couple of beers. "I've gotta go, man. Thank you for the drinks." He threw an arm over Sam's shoulder in a hug. "Remember me when you're handing out season tickets this year!' Sam called out to Joe as he walked away.
The bar was just starting to get crowded, everyone literally rubbing elbows as Joe tried to push through to the exit. "Oh shit!" He stopped in his tracks as he saw a phone tumble to the ground. He reached down to get it, his breath hitching when he realized who it belonged to.
"Oh, thank you." She moved her jet black hair out of her eyes as she looked up, that same crooked smile appearing on her face. "Oh my fucking god, Joe?!" Natalie wrapped Joe in a tight hug, forcing him to lean back as she tackled him.
"Nat?" Joe couldn't really believe who was in front of him right now. Not that he had forgotten what she looked like, but the last couple of years had definitely changed her for the better. She looked just as beautiful, if not more, than the last time he saw her. "Its been, what four-?"
"It's been five years", she nodded in agreement, her hands still on Joe's biceps. "I can't believe I ran into you."
"I can't either." Joe really meant it. Natalie's family moved to Iowa after graduation, and besides the ceremony and graduation party that night, that was the last time he ever saw him. He never got a chance to tell her how he felt, and their friendship fizzled out.
"Oh!" She slapped him playfully on the chest, making Joe jump. "Congratulations on getting drafted! I always knew you'd make it into the NFL." Joe smiled, stepping back. "Thank you." She squeezed his arms affectionately before dropping her hands. "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but I'm actually looking for my fiancé. I don't know how I lose him, he pretty much towers over everyone like you do." Natalie jumped on her feet to try to see over the crowd, her mouth twisted with frustration.
"Fiancé? When did that happen?." Natalie flashed her huge engagement ring at Joe, who hoped she couldn't see the disappointment on his face. "It just happened, actually. We wanted to do it before the season started and things got crazy." She peered over Joe's shoulder, still searching. "Season? What is your fiancé a high school coach or something?"
"Josephine fuckin' Burrow, what the fuck is going on man?"
Joe would recognize that voice anywhere. He had heard it enough on the football field as he tossed expletives at him, that it had been engrained in his brain. Joe slowly turned to see Natalie's fiancé standing behind him. The few years between high school and now had brought them eye to eye in height, and now Joe was basically the same in stature as well.
"Joe, you remember Travis?"
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Of Brown Eyes and Desert Skies
cowboy!din djarin x f!reader - old west/western au oneshot
summary: When a new man storms into the saloon you work at, you're instantly terrified--and captivated. But as he lingers in town and stirs up trouble with every step, you question who the brown-eyed man is underneath the poncho, and if he really is just a bounty killer at his core.
words: 10.7k+
warnings/tags: EXPLICIT. 18+ ONLY. smut (rough, fingering, oral, riding, doggy style, spitting, spanking), period-typical violence (not graphic) and sexism (not from din), the helmet hat comes off, din is morally gray and not always nice, barmaid!reader
a/n: This is heavily inspired by Sergio Leone's Dollars Trilogy and the Man with No Name. Please mind the tags.
read on ao3 | masterlist
When he stormed into the saloon, you knew he was trouble. You had an eye for these things, a sixth sense for danger.
A hush fell over the crowd of people when the swinging doors opened. The stranger’s eyes narrowed under his black Stetson hat, and a cloth covered his face below them, the plain beige fabric laying over the earthy green poncho draped over broad shoulders. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over the few inches of exposed skin. You nearly dropped the glass you were drying when he started to walk over to you in those stiff, dark denim pants, the bottom of a brown leather holster bouncing on his thick right thigh, heavy with a hidden weight.
Something within you stirred, scorching your skin. He sat down on a stool right in front of where you worked and conversation within the saloon picked up again. His severe gaze burned a hole through you, and you took a step back, suddenly conscious of the sweat on the back of your neck and the heat coiling low in your gut. The sweat starting to dot your forehead certainly wasn’t from the heat of high noon, the sun hanging in a cloudless blue sky.
“Can I get you somethin’, sir?”
“Whiskey,” he said, his voice gravelly but smooth at the same time. Seductive and sultry.
You nodded and turned around, pulling a bottle of amber liquid off the bar shelf and grabbing a low glass. You could feel him staring at you as you poured, heat prickling your ears. You told him the price and he shifted to the side, digging money out of his pocket.
“Keep the change.”
“Thank you, sir.”
You gave him a smile and walked over to the register, entering the sale. You stashed the change in the jar you kept next to it, happy to see it slowly getting filled to the brim. You didn’t make too much here, but you had no other choice. It wasn’t a bad job, but it came with its problems—drunk men getting handsy or bold being the overwhelming one. When you’d arrived here all those years ago, it was either working as a barmaid or a laundress. You chose the former, and you didn’t regret it. It just meant you ran into interesting people, and this man was no exception—he’d made that clear when his brown boots stomped across the old wooden floor.
“‘Scuse me, miss?”
The man called out to you, and you quickly walked over to him, spreading your arms out and leaning forward. He was swirling his glass in a lightly tanned hand, a blue cuff settled over his wrist. You wondered if his hands felt rough, how they’d feel on the soft skin of your waist.
You swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir?”
“You know if the sheriff here has any bounties out?”
Oh, shit. He was one of them. “Mm-mm.” You shook your head. “I haven’t heard or seen anythin’.”
He nodded and set his glass down, leaning forward and staring into your eyes, his brow set. He was close enough for you to see the sweat under his eyes, staring you down, making your heart thrum in your chest and throat go dry. The chestnut eyes gave you a once-over, slowly trailing down your body and stopping where the bar top hid the rest of you from sight. They jumped back up to your widened ones, and the corners crinkled with a hidden smirk.
“That’s a damn shame, ‘cause suddenly, I find myself wantin’ to stay a bit longer,” he husked, pulling the cloth away from his face and slugging the rest of the whiskey back. You caught a glimpse of his jawline as he tilted his head back and noticed the scruff covering it.
You raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Oh, really? How come?”
“Found myself somethin’ a bit better than a money,” he said, tipping his hat back slightly. “And she’s standin’ right in front’a me.”
His smooth compliment nearly made you forget he was a bounty hunter. The way he eyed you up and down almost covered up and dulled what your head was telling you. This man was trouble through and through, and you’d known it from the moment he swaggered through the doors. He’d caught your eye like no other man just passing through ever had. You wanted desperately to comb your fingers through the dark brown curls peeking out under his hat, to kiss the lips hidden under the cloth, to know him like nobody ever had.
You must’ve been staring a bit too long because you heard a low chuckle and felt a finger tap your forearm. You shook your head and chuckled nervously.
“I’m sorry, sir, just thinkin’ too much.”
He hummed. “I like a woman who thinks too much. Makes it even better when I make her go quiet.”
The purred innuendo made your lips part and eyes go wide. You wanted that. And he knew it. The clever cowboy was already playing you and pressing all the right keys; it was as if he’d already snuck under your skirt and made you go limp.
He looked over his shoulder at the stairs climbing up the back wall facing the doors. “You stay around here?”
“Up-upstairs,” you stuttered. “I got my own room.”
“Good.”
“It-it doesn’t hide noise all that well.”
He stared at you and snickered. “Darlin’, you really think I give a shit?”
And he really didn’t. He had you howling as he rammed into you, completely unforgiving as his cock filled you to the brim. The man growled and grunted your name as he fucked you from behind, rough hands gripping your ass and spreading your round cheeks. He burned like sand at noon, more punishing than the summer heat. You gave in to him, letting him burn you as much as he wanted.
You were drooling into your worn mattress with tears in your eyes. The man held your wrists behind your back in one large hand. The other was kneading the fat on your hip as it recoiled with each slam of his hips.
“This th’best pussy I ever had, darlin’, god damn,” he rasped.
“G-good,” you panted between his brutal thrusts.
“Listen t’yourself.” He laughed, the sound mirthful and deadly. “Can barely fuckin’ speak. Told you I’d fuck ya til you couldn’t speak, darlin’.”
Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned at his dirty words. You should have never doubted that he’d have your mouth going dry, feeling his cock dig deep inside of you and choke something in your throat. He humbled and punished you for doubting him with his unforgiving pace. His tongue lavished you with dirty praise and raspy groans, the sounds making your cunt throb and suck him in deeper even as your walls started to get raw from his roughness.
He’d proven his tongue was filthy only moments ago as he licked circles around the sensitive bud between your legs. You were entirely naked—garments in a heap on the floor—but he still wore all his clothes except for the poncho and cloth. Even his worn denim shirt was still on, only the first four buttons undone—his hands were too busy yanking your clothes off to be bothered with his. The man was impatient and hungry, and you didn’t dare deny him.
He still wore the black hat as he worked his mouth on your sex, tonguing between your folds and teasing your slick hole. But you didn’t mind it, not when he moaned into your cunt with each broad lick of his tongue. He gave in to your whiny pleas for his thick fingers, obliging you with two right away. The digits stretched you open, made you throw your head back and clamp your legs around his head, the brim of his hat bending into your shins.
He clicked his tongue and placed his free hand on one of your knees, gently pushing it down as he muttered, “Spread those legs for me, baby. Need ‘em open for me.” You did as told and he hummed in approval. “Atta girl.”
He praised you by sucking your clit and rubbing his fingers against a soft spot within you. You were twitching and mumbling nonsense, an utter mess for the scoundrel between your shaking thighs. Your cunt pulsed around him, your peak suddenly rising with the motion.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he’d coaxed as you panted and gripped the sheets. “Need to get you nice’n ready for my cock.”
It only took a few more moments before you came with a sharp cry, legs shaking and a foot twitching. A fire blazed within you, one he had started and intended to keep burning. He worked you through it, sucking in a breath as he felt you pulse around his fingers.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. Then, he flipped you over, not even giving you time to recover from your high.
He’d barely tugged his pants down, only undoing his belt and dropping his holster to the floor. He growled and grabbed your ass, lifting it into the air and forcing you to arch your back. When he pushed into you with a groan, you felt the fabric scratch against you as he sheathed himself in your still-sensitive cunt.
You hissed and squirmed and cried out “Fuck, I’m—I’m still sens—”
“Don’ care,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ need you, darlin’.”
You nodded and moaned at his harsh affection. You were ashamed that you loved it, that it made you throb. A sharp slap on your ass made you jump, the tingling sensation left behind sent your head spinning. He rubbed it and soothed the tender skin, rough hands suddenly soft.
And now, he fucked you without mercy. Any trace of tenderness was gone with the wind. The man with brown eyes filled you more than anyone ever had, made you see stars when others had only made you see specks. When you begged him to spit on himself, that your cunt was getting raw, he pressed his sweaty chest against your back and gently tapped your cheek with his knuckles.
You opened your eyes and saw his open hand in front of them.
“Spit.”
Your pussy ached at his demand and you opened your mouth for the brown-eyed man, lifting your head as much as you could. Saliva dripped off your tongue and landed on his calloused palm. He took his hand back and you set your head back down, taking a deep breath when he pulled himself out of you to stroke his cock. His free hand grabbed the meat of one of your cheeks, his thumb kneading close to the tight ring of muscle hidden between them. The wet sound of him stroking his cock with your spit made you smile and shudder.
There was something satisfying about this cowboy using you. All rough edges and dry desert heat. He was as ruthless and unyielding as the western terrain you called home. You nearly screamed when he rammed himself back inside of your aching hole, silencing yourself by burying your face into the mattress. The man carved a canyon through you with brute, relentless force and praised your wild howls and whines with a slap on your ass and one slow rock of his hips. He teased you over and over, quickly learning where to drag the fat head of his cock to make you shiver and shake.
“P-please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t fuckin’ stop!”
The man chuckled at your desperate cry. You felt yourself shiver when he ran his hands up your thighs before kneading your plump cheeks again. Any pride you felt at hypnotizing him with your ass was quickly washed away when he landed a sharp smack against your right cheek, immediately following it with one on your left, another landing back on your right. You arched your back even more for him and wiggled one of your hands down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The thick member filling you to the brim was driving you to the edge, and the added sparks of pleasure from your sensitive nub was pushing you even closer.
He started fucking you with something even more feral than before, his groans loud and strained. Your moans melted into his with each burning stroke and every needy rub against your clit.
“God, I can feel you fuckin’ pulsin’ around me, baby,” he growled.
“Y-you feel so fucking good,” you answered, mouth open so your hoarse moans could slip into the air.
“Yeah? This th’best cock you ever had?”
He stole your answer with a punishing slam of his hips. Your free hand clawed at the sheets, and you tried to squirm up away from him. There was a low growl as you were yanked back, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips. The man chuckled mirthfully when you gasped, impaled on his cock yet again.
“Don’t try to run from a bounty killer, darlin’,” he rasped, his thrusts getting needier, reaching deeper and lingering longer within your quivering hole. “’Specially when your cunt feels this fuckin’ good.”
His breathing began to match your frenzied pants, the pace of his thrusts as frantic as your fingers on your sensitive clit.
“I’ll ask ya again,” he gave you a sharp thrust, keeping you in place with his strong hands. “Is this the best cock you ever fuckin’ had?”
“Fuck—yes, baby, yes!” You howled into the mattress as you felt your walls start to spasm, a sudden heat starting to take over you.
“C’mon, darlin’, that’s—fuck—that’s it.” The brown-eyed man’s hips slapped against your ass, the sound echoing, and he started growling—the feral and primal bounty killer finally taking over. “Fuckin’ c-come for me—fuck, I feel it—good fuckin’ girl—”
You came around his length with a scream, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm. A white-hot fire burned from your aching, quivering hole to your fuck-drunk head. You couldn’t feel anything other than your walls clenching around his cock, couldn’t hear anything other than your desperate whines.
“F-fuckin’ come for me, you fuckin’ scoundrel,” you growled, voice shaking as you continued to ride the crest of your climax. You drunkenly smiled when you heard a low groan and whined when the head of his cock kissed something deep within you, leaving its mark on you forever, guaranteeing you’d never feel this good ever again.
“Fuckin’ God—darlin’, I could bury m’self in your delicious cunt forever—fuck!”
The brown-eyed man gave your spent hole one final, cruel thrust. He pulled out of you with a groan, and you hissed at the feel of him leaving you; he left you raw and empty and gaping. You quickly forgave him when you heard the squelch of his fist jerking himself to completion with your juices. You smiled and sighed as he covered your ass in hot ropes of his seed, reveling in how fucking needy he sounded when he reached his peak. He sucked in air through his teeth, slowly loosening his grip on your hip. You jumped when he slapped your ass, shaking your head when he smugly chuckled.
You scooted forward and dropped your aching legs to the mattress with a groan. You didn’t care about the cum he left behind; right now, you needed to catch your breath after the divine beating he’d just given your pussy. The floor creaked under his boots as he started rustling around—probably putting that poncho back on—and humming to himself. You jumped when something wet stroked across your painted ass, quieted by a low hush.
“Just cleanin’ up my mess,” he rumbled. “I may be a scoundrel—” he mocked your voice— "but my mama taught me manners.”
You chuckled and turned your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to stare at the wall and your two measly pillows. “You’re a true gentleman.”
He shrugged, then gave the tender spots on your cheeks a soft massage with his fingers and then tapped your hips and helped you roll onto your back. You melted into the mattress with a blissful sigh, not bothering to think too long about how someone so brutal could be so tender.
“I wouldn’ call myself that, darlin’.”
His eyes met yours and you bit your lip. Even though the cloth was covering his face again, you had a hunch that what hid underneath it was handsome. You could see the corners of his eyes gently crease with the whisper of a smile as he stared down at you, running a warm, calloused hand up and down your sweaty skin.
“I’m just as rotten as the rest of ‘em.”
The next day, the owner was with you, standing behind the bar all the way down on your left and chatting with an old regular. Mr. Daniels was middle-aged, stout and balding, with skin as leathery as a saddlebag and always dressed in a white shirt. He was constantly mentioning his wife and daughters and boasted about them to anyone who would listen; he seemed to extend that fatherly protection your way sometimes. He was a kind enough man—letting you live in the attic above the saloon for free, paying you a decent wage—and you had no complaints.
You weren’t surprised to see the brown-eyed man slamming into the saloon the next day, the patrons a little less rattled by his presence than they were yesterday. When he stomped over to where you stood, Mr. Daniels gave you a quick glance, and you responded with a smile and tilt of your head—I’m alright.
“What’ll it be, sir?” you asked.
You could feel your sore hole throb when he looked up at you under that wide-brimmed hat, a ray of sun lighting up his golden skin and making his chestnut eyes glow. He leaned against the bar, resting a bent arm on it. Relaxed and certain of his place in the small saloon, not a hint of fear in his posture.
“I think you already know, darlin’.”
He winked at you, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You turned and grabbed the whiskey you’d poured him yesterday with a nod. His eyes looked you up and down as you grabbed a glass and poured out his drink with a coy smile on your face.
He handed you money for the drink and said, “Thanks, darlin’. Keep the change.”
You smiled. “You’re too kind, sir.”
He tipped his hat. You walked over to the register, entered the sale, and dropped the change into your jar. As you moved back to where you’d been standing, the man straightened and walked down the bar to where Mr. Daniels and the old man were talking. You watched as he pulled a scroll of yellowed parchment out from under his poncho and spread it on the dark wood counter. Out of curiosity, you took a few small steps in that direction, acting busy with organizing the liquor shelves.
“You seen this man?” he inquired.
“No, ‘fraid not,” the old man replied with a smack of his lips.
You turned around and picked up a glass and a cloth, drying it and looking around the saloon. At table in the far corner, two men sat playing cards, smoke curling out of their mouths, the brims of their hats tipped down and hiding their faces from prying eyes. A few other tables were scattered around the small saloon, more hatted men nursing their drinks at them. Their soft chatter filled the air and was speckled with the occasional sounds of a horse trotting down the road. It was a slow afternoon, but you didn’t mind if it meant you kept yourself occupied with eavesdropping.
“And you?”
“Can’t say I have,” Mr. Daniels responded.
The man hummed and started to roll the yellowed paper up. You squinted, trying to see what was printed on it. You swallowed when you read the word “WANTED” in big black letters before he rolled the edge back up. The man leaned back and shoved it back under the poncho, nodding. He knocked the rest of his drink back and set the glass on the bar top and turned to look at you with narrowed eyes before pushing it down your way. Something vicious lurked within those brown eyes, keeping itself hidden under the brim of his hat and only revealed now that the afternoon sun didn’t reach them.
You extended your arm to reach and pick the glass up, immediately bending over and dunking it in the bucket of soapy water at your feet. You bit your cheek, ashamed that you felt heat pulse between your legs at his darkened stare. Being the target of his gaze was either thrilling or terrifying; right now, you weren’t sure what it was for you. It made you wonder how he had looked at you while he was ramming his cock into you. Ultimately, whatever his gaze was didn’t matter if it made you burn just from the thought of it.
The sound of someone cursing and a stool being pushed across the floor made you snap up to stand again; your eyes widened when you saw the man’s fist wrapped in the fabric of Mr. Daniels’ shirt, pulling him against the bar with only one arm. The old man was standing back a few feet away on the poncho-clad man’s right, his long gray eyebrows knitted together.
“You sure?” He growled.
The cantina had gone silent, all eyes focused on the man and his hold on Mr. Daniels. You were staring too, your heart racing in your chest and threatening to break your ribs.
“Even if I did,” Mr. Daniels said through gritted teeth, “I wouldn’t know where to find him.”
He glanced over at you, eyes lingering before meeting the man’s stare again.
The man tilted his head. “You wouldn’t know?”
Mr. Daniels shook his head again. “I told you, I just wouldn’t—” his eyes landed on you— “know where—” back to the man—“to look.”
You took a step back when Mr. Daniels looked at you one last time, then back at the man. His brow was set, but you glanced down and saw his hand shaking below the bar. The man let go of him with a push and conversation in the saloon resumed as he started to stalk towards you. His dark eyes were stormy as he set his sights on you and squinted, the spurs on his boots jingling menacingly with each step. You braced yourself for impact; muscles tensing, heart racing, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, fingers curling into your palms and nails digging in.
The collision never came. His poncho swept past you and he came to stand at one of the two small square windows at the front of the saloon. You doubted he could see much with how dirty the glass was; the sun must’ve scorched the dust and grime into the aged panes before you’d even blown into town. Frankly, you were relieved that you weren’t on the receiving end of his threatening, squinting stare.
However, you couldn’t deny the way something in your gut fluttered when you thought you’d be the one pulled against the bar by his leather-rough hands, his fingers catching the low neckline of your blouse and skimming over your hot skin, your shallow pants gently waving his bandana. But you reckoned that the haunting flutters were probably just lusty leftovers from your tryst the other night.
He looked over his shoulder at you, still squinting and heavy with frustration. Your lips parted when he held your wide eyes with his stare, the flutters growing into a rumble and shaking you from within. Or maybe that sensation was just his heavy footfalls across the floor echoing under your skin as he turned to the left and stomped out the doors. You watched him with eager eyes as he walked to the inn across the street, beige dust kicked up with every sinister step. Before he unleashed his storm on the inn, he turned over his shoulder to look at the saloon.
You squinted, moving closer to peer out of the windows. No, he wasn’t looking at the weather-worn building—he had his burning gaze focused on you.
With a tip of his hat, he slid inside, and you leaned back. You placed a hand on your chest and felt your heart beating hard and fast underneath it.
Mr. Daniels clicked his tongue, announcing his arrival at your side. You looked back at him, the man’s stare set on the inn.
“Some fuckin’ fella,” he grumbled, ivory face red with anger.
You nodded slowly and walked back to the soap water bucket, picking up the forgotten whiskey glass and shaking it off before drying it with a rag. You pursed your lips and tried to forget how his suntanned hands had dwarfed the glass, and tried to wipe away the memory of them digging into the meat of your thighs as he slurped up your juices with a deep moan. Despite your best efforts, they didn’t fade away, and neither did a smudge on the glass.
Everything in this town was filthy, you figured, shoving the glass to the very back of the cupboard so it could be forgotten. Even the drifters that passed through were coated in grime.
The brown-eyed man was lucky your boss needed business, because the look Mr. Daniels gave him when he walked into the saloon the next evening could scorch anything within ten miles. He skulked through the doors at dusk, eyeing up the loud crowd before making a path to where you stood pouring out four shots of whiskey. Of course you’d instantly noticed him—you’d felt the air become charged as if it were about to storm as soon as he’d arrived. The men you served paid you with paper bills and winks, knocking back the shots as you walked over to where the man stood. Without a word, you turned and grabbed a glass; you didn’t need to ask what he or any other man in a hat wanted to drink tonight. As you avoided his eyes, he stared you down. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a golden hand already pushing coins and a paper bill your way as the amber liquid gurgled into the glass.
You finished and gave him a practiced smile, scooping the money into your hand as he told you to keep the change yet again. The bottle was nearly empty, but you still placed it back on the shelf before walking to the register. You avoided looking in his direction at all costs; the most you allowed yourself to see was the brim of his hat and the poncho fabric that fell over his left arm. Instead, you gave your best performance to the other patrons—chatting with the town regulars and smiling at the men passing through—and got caught up in the large crowd, the early purple of the night still settling over town.
You heard a few raps on the wood above the chatter and lively piano. When you looked up at the man, you choked on your breath.
“Long time, no see, sweet thing,” he drawled, a cigarillo in the corner of his leering mouth. Blue eyes pierced you and his fair cheeks were tinted with a whiskey-induced blush.
You cleared your throat, smoothing your plain black skirt. “Can I get you somethin’?”
“Other than your ass in my bed? Whiskey.”
You brushed off the lewd remark, thankful there was a clean glass and whiskey on the bartender’s counter you’d must’ve forgotten to put back earlier. John, your old beau, kept his icy gaze fixed on you and puffed smoke to the side. Blond hair coated his head underneath the beige high-crowned hat, and you fought back a wince at remembering the times you shared with him. You told him the cost and he made a slow show of placing the money in your waiting hand, pressing his palm against your fingers and closing them around the money. You guessed you did a poor job of hiding a shudder, because he gave you a mirthful chuckle.
“What, sugar? You missin’ the way I’d fuck ya?”
You didn’t acknowledge his vulgar comment. You’d never been spoken to like that, even from the drunkest of men. It was just understood that men didn’t curse in conversation with ladies; even the gnarliest and dirtiest of them knew that. You could smell the liquor on John’s breath and had no interest in indulging his drunken idiocy. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, shoved the money in your waist apron’s pocket, turned to the left and walked a few steps down the bar, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted a new patron. The brown-eyed man still stood where you’d served him, and you caught him pulling the cloth covering his face back with pinched fingers as his other hand lifted his almost-empty glass.
After you’d finished serving a gray-mustached man, thanking him for the tip as he walked away, your red-faced old flame slapped his palms against the wood and leaned into your space, blue eyes hazy.
“I was talkin’ to you,” he hissed. “An’ I ain’t done yet.”
Your heart sped up and you gulped, your mouth dry and body cold. He’d only been like this with you once before—when you’d ended things with him back in your old town the day before you left. It was a cruel twist of fate that he happened to be passing through your new town a few years later. He obviously hadn’t forgotten about you, much to your dismay.
“Is there a problem here?”
The brown-eyed man was looming behind John, his eyes narrowed. You hadn’t even noticed him move; he was like a shadow. John turned his head over his shoulder, keeping his hands planted on the counter as he eyed the man up. He scoffed and curled his fingers under his palms.
“Ain’t your business, saddle bum,” he snarled.
The man slowly stepped forward and came to stand in front of John, sweeping the front of his poncho over his right shoulder. Your eyes widened when you saw his chestnut-colored leather belt, the holster heavy with a pistol.
“It is now.”
John’s head swiveled back to you, his face smug and eyes cloudy. “I don’ remember talkin’ ‘bout this fella. Do you, sugar?”
You didn’t respond, opting to look over his shoulder and watch as the man turned John around by his shoulder. He pushed John against the edge of the counter, chestnut eyes fiery. From where you stood, it was hard to tell if he was using more force now than he had yesterday with Mr. Daniels; your gut told you he was. Something was different tonight, and it wasn’t the whiskey.
“Keep talkin’ and see what happens,” the man threatened, his voice low.
John laughed and shook his head. “What, did’ya have this soiled dove?” he asked loudly, drawing the attention of those who hadn’t noticed the stranger’s physical threat.
The derogatory term made you gasp and take a step back, your skin hot under your off-shoulder blouse. The man’s eyes flicked over to you for only a second before squinting at John again. He shook his head, his beige cloth covering shifting slightly with the movement.
“Don’t do it,” the brown-eyed man warned.
You could barely see John toss the butt of his cigarillo on the floor, but you did see his head turn to the right and heard him spit. The people around them had moved back and gone silent, turning their backs to avoid being dragged into a fight that didn’t concern them. You didn’t blame them—you wouldn’t want to be in the path of this desert storm either.
There was a low growl and then the poncho-clad man was dragging John across the floor to the doors, tossing him out of them. There was a heavy thud when his body hit the ground, and you watched the man push the doors open and tilt his head down to look at the ground, presumably where the drunkard still sat. His hands gripped the tops of the doors, his stance wide and menacing. He shook his head, and you fought your better judgment, running to the end of the bar at the windows and then pushing through the patrons. They let you pass and then you were standing behind the cowboy at the doors, your blood cold but skin hot at the same time.
Night had fallen, and the two yellow lanterns mounted outside the saloon cast a weak glow on the porch. John was scrambling to his feet and backing away, abandoning his hat and stumbling down the two wooden steps, almost falling on the dirt road. The man looked back at you; the side of his face visible to you darkened from the lack of light. You could only see the whites of his eyes; for once, he wasn’t squinting. Your breaths were shallow, and you pulled at your fingers.
“This bum bothering you, ma’am?” His voice was softer now, the edges smoothed, so unlike the threatening tones you’d heard only moments prior.
You swallowed thickly, but you caught John starting to rush at the stranger and you shouted, “Look out!” instead.
He wasted no time, immediately taking a step forward out of the doorway and planting his back foot before throwing a punch, his fist connecting with the bone of John’s nose. A sickening crack elicited a cry from you and a few of the other saloon girls that had seen or heard it. John dropped to the wooden porch again with a howl.
You cautiously pushed the doors open and let them hit you on your way out. A sick pleasure filled your chest when the man kicked John down to the dirt road, his spurs jingling.
“Go to the inn and leave her alone,” he enunciated. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”
His voice and words were clearer than you’d ever heard them before. A part of you thought you heard something protective underscoring his firm warning, but it was just a delusion. It had absolutely nothing to do with you; the man clearly just didn’t want to have a scrap with John. It wasn’t because he couldn’t do it—he was obviously capable if he was a bounty hunter—but because he didn’t want to waste his time with it.
There was a dark, sardonic laugh. “Oh, she got you real good, didn’ she?”
You stiffened, covering your quivering lips with a hand, and the pair of brown eyes met your wide ones. His targeted vulgarity was starting to get to you, and it was becoming hard to hide. You felt embarrassed to be tearing up in front of the mysterious man, but you heard a sharp exhale as his eyes searched yours, the blast of air disturbing the cloth on his face. It was as if he was looking at you for permission, awaiting your orders and at your command—your own personal soldier, a bounty hunter tied only to you and the open land ahead of him.
“I don’ blame ya,” John sneered. “Best whore I ever had.”
Silence fell across the crowd; any lingering conversations had gone cold after that. You choked back a cry, your eyes flitting between John rising to his feet and the hunter in front of you. You noticed his fists clench before he finally took his eyes off you and stormed down into the street. He cut off the drunken cackles that filled the air with a swift punch, and you could barely see his knuckles connect with John’s jaw. He stayed upright this time and tried to swing at the man, but John’s sloppy form left him open to a punch in the gut that knocked him a foot backward. You stepped further out onto the porch, the sun-bleached wood creaking underneath your feet as you watched the stranger give John another kick before bending over to yank him up by the collar with both of his hands.
“You say one more goddamn word and I’m sendin’ you into that desert and tossin’ your canteen,” he seethed between gritted teeth.
John’s eyes landed on you, and he laughed. “That slut ain’ wor—”
He was cut off with a growl and a punch, falling to the ground. John was limp and unresponsive when the stranger nudged him with the toe of his boot. The man spat on him, then turned around to face the stunned crowd. Tears were streaming down your face, both of your hands over your nose and mouth.
“Which horse is his?” he asked, his voice deep and loud.
Only a few seconds later, he nodded; someone must’ve pointed it out. You watched him stalk over to a brown horse on his right, rifling through John’s belongings and pocketing cash and valuables he found. The man found his canteen and tossed it to the ground, then walked back over to John and dragged him to the horse. He heaved John up on his shoulder and tossed him over the saddle, then took the reins off the horse to loosely tie John’s feet together and then lead it under the horse’s belly to bind his hands together, making sure to keep the makeshift restraint taut. Finally, he led the horse to the right and out of sight; there was a shout and a whinny, then the frantic sound of hoofbeats as the horse galloped away.
The man came back into view as he approached the saloon again. The only sound filling the nighttime air was the jangling of his spurs and your sniffs as you calmed down. He made his way up to the porch, standing in front of you, his poncho still over his shoulder and revealing his brown leather vest and faded denim shirt. His eyes looked you over, lingering on your wet cheeks.
He had just sent a drunk, unconscious man into the desert without water on a spooked horse at night. It was one of the cruelest things a man could do. And yet, here he was, his eyes soft under a furrowed brow. The yellow lamplight showed that the storms in his eyes had settled, but his forehead would bear the evidence of it in deepened lines.
“You alright, darlin’?”
The term of endearment didn’t make you squirm. Coupled with the gentle, low rumble of his voice, it made you feel…comfortable. “Comfortable” certainly wasn’t something you should feel around a man like him, and yet, you found yourself wanting to fall into his chest and let his arms support you and his warm hands sink into your flesh.
But all you could do right now was nod and wipe the backs of your hands over your wet cheeks. You gave him a weak smile. “I’m rattled, but I’ll live.”
You paused, looking down and then meeting his strangely soft eyes again. You wished you could see the rest of his face and not just imagine it based on how it had felt between your legs.
“Thanks,” you said meekly. You shakily exhaled and repeated yourself. “Thank you, Brown Eyes.”
You swore you saw a smile creasing the corners of his eyes at the nickname. He waved off your thanks, tipped the black brim of his hat, and turned around to walk over to the inn. The shadow slunk back into the night.
You were pulled out of your thoughts when your boss yelled and dispersed the crowd, then called your name. Mr. Daniels stood in front of you, his face worried as he looked you over, thick fingers gripping your biceps. The concerned and protective father inside of him was taking over, and you found it to be quite comforting and nice; you never complained when he treated you like one of his daughters. He asked you a dozen questions at once but trailed off after noticing your voice waver and bottom lip quiver. Mr. Daniels guided you to the stairs in the back of the saloon and told you to take the rest of the night off despite your protests—he’d hear none of it.
All you could think of as you lay in bed curled up under your thin blankets was the mysterious, brown-eyed stranger. How could a man so violent have such kind eyes? It just wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself as your eyes fluttered close and you drifted to sleep, the lively chatter of the saloon below a background to the memories of the stranger’s dulcet voice.
You thought that would be the last of Brown Eyes. You thought he’d be gone without a trace, a shadow haunting conversations for a while, another dusty drifter wandering the desert as if he were Moses. Just another man as wild as the terrain he traversed. You hadn’t expected to see him again unless it was in your dreams. He’d kick up dust there, then vanish with it when you opened your eyes.
You really, truly thought his stunt last night would be the last one he performed in this town, and part of you wished it had been when he threw his shadow into the saloon the next afternoon, the sun at his back.
He leisurely strolled over to a table nestled in the back-right corner of the saloon. Three men sitting around its circular wood top playing cards. The jangle of his spurs accompanying each cocksure step of his boots alerted them to his approach, the decorative threads on the edge of his poncho fluttering gently. Finally, Brown Eyes stood with his back to you at the right side of one of the men, his black hat tilting slightly to look down at him. The other two men leaned forward and glanced at each other.
You took a few steps to the right and angled your head a bit to see what was going on. You caught the two men slowly placing their cards on the table and trailing their hands to the edge of the circular table. The man looking up at Brown Eyes was red in the face and spoke quietly enough for his words to slip underneath other conversations in the saloon and go undetected by your ears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you watched the interaction from afar, then raised when the cowboy’s poncho flew over his shoulder.
“Christ almighty,” you murmured as his hand twitched at his thigh.
You looked over to the left at Mr. Daniels, and he gave you a sideways glance. He and the regular in front of him were focused on the altercation; a few of the patrons in the bustling afternoon crowd had noticed as well. Despite the attention, you knew that nobody would intervene. This wasn’t anyone’s business except for the men in the corner.
As you watched one of the seated men reach for his pistol, you swore under your breath. Out of instinct, you dropped to your feet, crouching behind the bar just as the sound of gunshots pierced the air. The sharp blasts made you cover your ears, and then they suddenly stopped. Instead, a wounded groan filled the air, then the crack of a fist against bone and the thump of a body hitting the wooden floor to punctuate the statement. There was a curt jingle of spurs and an oof, signals of a sharp kick.
“Alive or dead, your choice,” a familiar gravelly voice stated.
It was flat and indifferent, so unlike the man who had come to your aid and who had cleaned you up after ruining you with the relentless thrusts of his hips. Yes, he’d been violent last night, but there was something gentle in his eyes hidden within their storm clouds. It almost made your heart ache, but then you remembered what he’d done to Mr. Daniels and how he’d sentenced a man to death without a second thought. You remembered who Brown Eyes was at his core, and the warm ache in your chest withered away.
“You son of a bitch!” A man yelled. “I’ll fuckin’ strangle you!”
A mirthful chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.”
There was shuffling, a shout, a gunshot, then silence. The bounty killer had won again.
When your boss stood, you followed suit, your heart racing. You knew that the customers you served weren’t all honest people with honest jobs. Hell, it was naïve to think that about anyone you met out on the frontier. You’d just never experienced a gunfight inside the saloon. You’d seen a few unfold on the dusty main road splitting the town in half, but no bullets had ever blown holes through the saloon’s grimy windows; the sharp smell of gunpowder had never tainted its air. You took a few deep breaths and tried to steady your shaking hands. Even after all these years out west, you still had wild experiences waiting to shock you.
Brown Eyes holstered his revolver with a flourish, then walked to the bar.
“Here, for the trouble.” He placed a few bills and some coins down in front of a glaring Mr. Daniels, then tipped his hat at you. “Apologies, miss.”
He walked back over to the dead man then crouched down and lifted the body over his left shoulder. You heard him mumble under his breath and turn towards the doors to leave. You caught his eyes and swallowed when you saw how dark they were under his hat’s black brim. He silently left the saloon, the doors swinging and clacking behind him. All that remained were two dead men splayed out in their chairs, arms out and hats tipped back.
You looked at Mr. Daniels. He shook his head and sighed.
“And that, my dear, is why God destined some men to be carpenters.”
He wiped off his hands with a frayed cloth and tossed it on the counter. Mr. Daniels shuffled behind you and down the bar with a huff as the patrons’ chatter began again. He quickly walked to the saloon doors and gave them a sharp push, stepping into the hot afternoon sun.
“’M leavin’ at dawn t’morrow,” Brown Eyes said into your cunt.
A hot lick of his tongue made your hips buck. He swiped it side to side over your clit as he planted his hands on your hips and forced them into the mattress. You clawed at the sheets underneath you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Another obscene slurp and moan from the bounty hunter sent you reeling and added to the growing tension in your belly. You forced yourself up to recline on your forearms, looking down at the hatless man hungrily eating you out as if it were his first meal in weeks.
You choked out a breath when the tip of his tongue swirled itself around your hole and then pushed inside of it. Lusty eyes met yours, and you felt his lips curl into a smile against your spit and slick-drenched center. He held your gaze and sucked on the hardened nub, squeezing the meat of your hips when you moaned.
“You like that, darlin’?” he asked, gently sucking again and chuckling at your gasp.
You nodded emphatically. “Fuck, yes, I do, Brown Eyes,” you panted, the muscles in your gut tightening when he groaned at the nickname, your legs starting to tense. “I really, really do.”
When you closed your eyes and let your head fall back with a whine, he shook his head and nipped at the sensitive bud, making you jump and look back down at him. He was staring up at you, something menacing in his eyes. It made your walls flutter, it thrilled you, it made your heart race even more. He was reminding you that even though he was serving you, he was still in control—he was always in control, no matter where he was.
He licked a slow, broad stripe up your cunt, then pulled back. You groaned in frustration at the cruel loss of contact, the heat and tension within you backing away from the glorious peak he’d gotten so close to pushing them over.
“You’re so mean,” you whined.
You heard him suck in a breath between his teeth. “You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.”
His room at the inn had a few lamps to combat the dark desert night, but only one was lit. The lamp on the bedside table to his right cast a little light on him, but the curve of your thigh and the bend of your knee had shrouded him in black shadows while he knelt on the floor and ravished you with his tongue. Now that your legs had dropped to rest and bend over the edge of the mattress, you could see the corners of his brown eyes creased with a smile that he hid behind your dripping cunt. He dipped one thick finger inside of you and snickered when you gasped and startled. Your pussy was still throbbing and aching for release, and it wouldn’t stop until he pushed you over that heavenly edge.
Warm hands massaged your flesh and trailed down to grip the underside of your thighs. His fingers dug in and lifted them a little bit so he could turn his head and press wet kisses on your inner thighs. You felt the ridge of his nose as his lips worked. Delicate eyelashes fluttered against tan cheeks. Brown Eyes gave you one last kiss and a playful nip that made you giggle.
“See, darlin’?” he murmured into your sensitive skin, opening his eyes again. “I can be nice.”
When you raised your eyebrow, he dramatically rolled his eyes. He turned around and stood up with a grunt that made you bite back a chuckle. Yellow light flickered on his bare back and revealed a few scarred splotches; you’d convinced him to take off his shirt and vest earlier, and now it was time for the rest. You swung up to sit on your knees as Brown Eyes hummed and took off his dark denim pants and underdrawers in one motion.
He walked over to the chair next to a short dresser beside the door, meticulously folding the clothing and setting it underneath his folded shirt. His poncho and vest were draped over the back of the tiny chair, his hat resting on top of the shirt, a beige cloth peeking out beneath it. Dusty brown boots waited on the floor. The brown leather holster weighed down the poncho. A rifle leaned against the dresser—“A Winchester 73, m’favorite”—to finish the cowboy’s closet.
Brown Eyes cleared his throat and ran a large hand over the back of his head, fingers teasing his soft brown curls. He turned around to face you, striding over, his thick cock hard and bouncing with each step. It nearly distracted you from his face—his bare face, the handsome one he’d been hiding all this time.
He lifted your chin with two fingers and you nearly melted into the mattress. Your eyes wandered all over his features, greedy for every detail. You were finally seeing the curved nose you’d felt against your thighs and folds. A neat mustache lay above the pink lips that had brought you to shambles. Scruff lined the jaw you’d stolen a look at a few days ago and crept up his cheeks. You noticed a bare patch in the scruff to the right of his chin, and your eyes traced the thin canyons on his forehead left behind from years of erosion and desert sun.
“My mama told me it’s rude to stare,” Brown Eyes chastised, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit.
“I didn’t think it was rude to stare at art,” you quipped back, leaning forward a bit more when he brushed his thumb over your lips and massaged one of your breasts in his hand.
Your heart sped up when he bent down, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his steady exhales heat the air you inhaled through parted lips, his handsome face stealing every bit of sense from your head and making you weak.
He clicked his tongue. “She also told me lyin’ is bad.”
Your eyebrows knitted together. “Why would I lie to someone like you? I’ve seen what happens. I’ve seen what you can do, Brown Eyes.”
You trailed off, biting your lip when he sharply inhaled. Damn, he sure loved when you called him that. He hooked his thumb into the corner of your mouth, his lust-blown eyes watching it as he swept it across your lower lip and your cunt ached with want.
“You’re right, darlin’,” he acquiesced. “Didn’ take you for the lyin’ type anyway.”
He gave you a soft smile you didn’t think bounty killers were capable of and you simpered. Brown Eyes pinched your chin before sitting next to you and laying back, pumping his cock in his fist. You adjusted yourself so you could trail your hands across his hot skin, explore its ridges and softness, soak in its warmth. Your hands graced across it until they cupped his jaw, startling him with a sensation he probably hadn’t experienced in years.
You bent down with half-lidded eyes and gently parted lips. Chestnut eyes locked with yours right before you crashed your lips into his and let one of your hands reach and grasp his cock. The interruption made him moan into your mouth, the sound desperate and low in his throat. You shared a whine with Brown Eyes when his right hand forced itself between your thighs and shuddered when his fingertips stroked up and down the seam of your folds. He smiled against your lips when you began rolling your hips to steal more of his scalding touch.
He pulled back from your lips and whispered, “You wanna go for a ride, darlin’?”
You bit your lip and nodded. Brown Eyes grinned at you—this man was full of surprises tonight—and turned himself to lay in the center of the mattress. You moved and knelt between his slightly spread legs, your feet touching the wooden footboard as you stared down at him. He was biting his lip and let them part when you massaged your tits before bending over, making sure to arch your back, your lips hovering near the fat head of his cock. You looked back up at him coquettishly—you were in control now, teasing him with hot exhales and smiling after he gave you a few needy groans.
When you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, you felt him tug the sheets with a hiss. A lick from the base to the tip made him swear; he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. You planted your hands on his hips and held his gaze for a few more seconds before closing your eyes and wrapping your lips around him, slowly bobbing up and down, working lower and lower as you went. Your brow furrowed, spit starting to dribble down your chin, and you opened your eyes just in time to see him throw his head back and curse.
“Fuck, baby, god damn,” Brown Eyes rasped, groaning when you pressed your tongue against him as you slid back up again before twisting your head back down, just over halfway down his throbbing length.
He choked when you took every inch of him, your spit-covered lips pressing against the curls at the base. You could only hold it for a moment—his girth and length pushed you to the limit—and then you bobbed back up and swirled your tongue around the bulging head before releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. He looked down at you as you licked up a few beads of liquid leaking from his cock, wrapping a hand around his shaft before sucking him back into your mouth, wildly working your tongue around the head as you stroked. Your pussy throbbed when he whined, one of his hands coming to clasp your forearm as you snaked your free hand up his torso, splaying your fingers out for stability.
He’d grown even harder somehow, and your hand trailed down to give his balls a quick, light squeeze, eliciting an even louder whine; you hoped that nobody occupied the room next to his. Your hand went back to work his shaft, but he tugged your forearm and his other hand held your cheek. You looked up at him and slowly let his cock fall out of your mouth, watching his eyes scrunch closed and eyebrows knit together, his plush pink lips falling open. His chestnut eyes opened again as you straddled his torso, your ass bumping against the leaking length, making him hiss and smile.
“Baby, if you kept that up, I would’a come down your throat.” He panted and shook his head. “But I wanna see you painted in it.”
You giggled when his large palms clapped on your cheeks, grabbing the meat of them and spreading them.
“Go ‘head, darlin’,” he urged. “Ride this cowboy’s cock.”
“Don’ have to tell me twice,” you chuckled, giving him a kiss before sitting back on your knees.
You started to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, lips parting as his fat head notched inside of your slick and needy hole, already splitting you open. His hands traveled up the curve of your ass and over your hips to rest on your thighs, low groans coaxing you further down. You planted your hands next to his ears and stared into his eyes as you slammed your ass against him, hissing as he filled you to the brim. His eyes squeezed shut and he whined, hands moving back to your ass.
“You take me so well, darlin’, fuck,” he growled. His eyes bore deep into yours, and he gently squeezed your cheeks. “Now, c’mon, baby girl. Move those gorgeous hips.”
You slowly rolled your hips back a few times, feeling your ass shake and letting your cunt adjust to his size. When you started to speed up, the man nodded and grunted along with your pants. The tension inside of you had returned with a vengeance, your walls already fluttering after only a few minutes of riding him. You picked up the pace and added another movement, sliding up and down, hammering back down with a filthy, wet sound. You threw your head back and shifted to rest on your knees, sinking down to the base and holding his gaze as he groaned. You began massaging your breasts and circled your hips, remaining fully seated on his cock.
“F-fuck, feels amazing, Brown Eyes,” you moaned, your index and middle fingers landing on your clit and rubbing small circles around it.
You lifted your head to look at him when he swatted your fingers away. Brown Eyes gave you a sly smile. “Allow me, darlin’. You keep on ridin’, and don’ stop ‘til I say so.”
You nodded and then moaned when he pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub. You fell forward and planted your hands next to his ears again, your face twisted in ecstasy as he pushed you to the peak he’d denied you earlier. You kept pounding your ass back, picking up the pace when his pants began to grow louder, riding towards his own climax along with you.
“Oh, fuck—fuck—Brown Eyes, I’m gonna come,” you gasped, something white hot threatening to scorch you from the inside out.
“Do it, darlin’, come for me,” he growled, his thumb working your clit frantically as the roll of your hips became erratic. “Clench my cock, soak me—”
You cut off his encouragement with a cry of pleasure, your entire body shaking and burning, your cunt pulsing around him and drenching him in your juices. You slumped forward to rest on your forearms, and he went to work, thrusting his hips up into you, grunting and growling into your ear. You stared at him, your head heavy as you basked in the afterglow of your white-hot climax. When you sloppily kissed his lips, spit still wet on your chin, Brown Eyes growled and pushed you onto your back, bending your sweaty legs and forcing your knees towards your ears as much as they could. You whimpered when he fucked into you with feral grunts and growls, your slick-coated walls letting the head of him push deep inside of you. The force was pushing you towards the footboard, and he placed his large hand on the top of your head to shield you from it and hold you in place for his cock.
“Fuck—your pussy feels fuckin’ incredible,” he opened his eyes, and there was a familiar dark storm brewing in them, his pupils blown as he gritted his teeth and increased his pace.
“Come on me,” you whispered, still drunk with pleasure, eyes brimming with tears from his brutal strokes. You reached your hand up and cupped his jaw with pleading eyes.
Your touch sent him over the edge, and he pulled out of you with a moan. You let your arms fall back and bend behind your head, watching him give his cock one final pump before thick ropes of his spend painted your body. You closed your eyes and smiled listening to his choked moans, then opened them again to see his head thrown back and cock throbbing as his body started to come down from his climax.
Brown Eyes stared back down at you and smiled, eyes trailing up your torso from your hips to your breasts. You blissfully sighed and smiled, and he flopped down at your right side with a huff. You looked over at him, his head propped up on his hand, his handsome face and body masked by a little darkness with the light behind his back.
“You look mighty lovely covered in my come, darlin’.” He gave you a gentle kiss and smiled against your lips. “Prettiest thing I ever seen.”
“Surely I can’t be prettier than a bunch of money in your hand for a bounty,” you half-teased.
He pulled back and furrowed his brow, shaking his head. Your eyes fluttered close when his hand cupped your cheek—it was trembling against your skin—and you leaned into his warm touch.
“Darlin’,” he said sternly. You opened your eyes to meet his again, the storm in them suddenly gone. “Didn’ I tell you my first day here that I’d found somethin’ better than money?”
You furrowed your brow. “I..I think so,” you responded hesitantly.
“I know I did, darlin’,” he confirmed, brushing his thumb across the apple of your cheek. “An’ didn’ I tell ya I’m not a liar?” You nodded and he pressed a kiss against your sweaty forehead, then pulled back and murmured, “You’re lovelier than any sunset I ever seen.”
The compliment made you shyly smile and giggle, but it quickly faded as you stared into his eyes. A question weighed on your chest, and you worried your lip between your teeth. You’d covered it up and hid it, and now you couldn’t hold it back any longer—especially since he was leaving town tomorrow.
“Brown Eyes, will you ever come back?” you asked meekly. You quickly added, “Here, I mean. To the town. Not to me.” Your skin warmed with embarrassment.
He hesitated, glancing at the sheets before looking back into your eyes. “Well, you want me to?”
Did you really want him to, even after all he’d done since he stormed into town and held it—and you—captive in his fury? The man with a revolver on his hip and a Winchester 73 and a belt of bullets? The one who’d sent John to his death, who’d threatened Mr. Daniels, who’d killed three men without blinking? Did you really want the bounty killer to return and shroud you in his stormy shadow again?
“Yeah,” you smiled. “I want that.”
He smiled against your lips as he kissed you, and you wondered if he ever smiled after killing a bounty as you tangled your fingers in his hair.
masterlist
a/n: whew! thank you for reading all of this! it really ran away from me. please let me know what you think with comments and reblogs !!
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#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#thank you for reading this if you made it through#it was a beast to write but I loved it#the mandalorian spoilers#din djarin fic#mando x reader#mando x you#din x reader#din djarin x f!reader#cowboy din#old west au#the mandalorian#my fic#din x you#din djarin smut
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𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐑Ī𝐙𝐄𝐒, 𝐃.𝐓
pairing: daemon targaryen x martell!reader
summary: a week after the tournament day, prince daemon and y/n became something more.
words: 2.8k
author's note: I personally hate the smut part, and I really think it sucks. I am truly sorry, guys :( also, I know Mysaria is from Essos and she understands high valyrian, but let's just ✨️ pretend ✨️ she doesn't. and I know dragonstone is literally inside a volcano BUT for the story's sake let's forget that. again, I am so sorry about the smut part. I love you all and thank you so much for the support y'all have given me on the first part. ❤️🩹
reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!
18+ warning
warnings: dub-con, rough sex, degradation kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), daemon being hot while speaking high valyrian, daemon being hot while dominant, daemon being daemon.
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"You never said we were coming to Dragonstone." Y/N muttered while getting out of Faora's back.
Daemon chuckled. It was kinda obvious that his plans wouldn't be shared so easily when he invited his wife to a dragon ride. The last few days they had spend together, the prince found himself very comfortable in her presence and discovered that he liked being with her. He thought that bringing her to meet their future home and the perfect place to consumate their marriage was a brilliant idea.
They watched the dragons be lead to the dragonpit, and the prince took the lady's hand in his, leading the way towards the castle.
Adjusting the cloak on her body, Y/N shaked a little bit. The castle was settled on the top of a mountain, and it was freezing cold. The south is even hotter than the Crownlands in west coast, and growing up in Sunspear, the capital and one of the warmest cities of Dorne, Y/N thought she could never get used to this kind of weather.
"Are you cold?" Daemon questioned, taking her closer to him and wrapping an arm behind her neck.
"A little, yes. I didn't thought it would be so cold, but it's a beautiful place. It's cloudy, I love it." She smiled. It was different from everywhere she had ever been, but she could definitely see why he loved that place.
The last three days, Daemon couldn't shut up about Dragonstone and how it was his favorite place on earth. He had been on Meereen, Volantis and Essos, but being trapped in a castle on the mountain was his favorite place on earth. He told her what his childhood was like, and showed himself to be real interested to know the same about hers. Y/N thought that perhaps it was too early to share memories with him.
Inside the castle, Daemon took Y/N's gloved hands in his and gave her a little tour. It was an enormous place, and even though it wasn't the kind of thought she wanted right now, her head showed her how perfect that place was to raise a family with Daemon. She wanted that, and it was her duty as a wife, but the non-stop gossip about the prince's mistress around King's Landing was making her feel a little bit insecure about their future. She knows that they need to discuss their relationship, but he seemed to be enjoying spending time with her the last few days, so she never talks about what's bothering her.
"Daemon!" Y/N turned around to the voice behind them.
"Fuck." He muttered under his breath. "Mysaria. I thought I told you to leave before my arrival."
The woman laughed humorless. She gazed at the princess from head to toe, narrowing her eyes as doing so. Y/N felt like cutting the woman's head with a sword for looking at her like that.
"Ao dōrī ivestretan issa aōha līve istan kesīr." Y/N turned to her husband, speaking in a language that his mistress couldn't understand. (You never told me your whore would be here.)
"She wasn't supposed to be here. I'll take care of it." He assured her, leaving the princess' side and grabbing Mysaria's arm.
Y/N went for the room at the end of the corridor. It was the biggest room inside the castle, and also it was Daemon's chambers. At first she looked at it with romantic eyes, watching scenarios that they could be living there through the years. But that easily crumbled once she remembered that his mistress had also been here. She knew that this shouldn't matter, he was a man and had his necessities. But she thought about how many women Daemon had brought there, and then she wondered why would he keep that one. One of the rumors around the capital is that he was planning to marry and have children with her, but King Viserys forbid his brother to do so. That was probably true.
She waited for Daemon to come, but then she heard the high pitched sound of Caraxes' roar. Y/N went to the window and saw the Rogue Pince on top of his dragon, with the woman behind him. She couldn't believe that he would leave her. It took a few hours before he was back again.
When he came into the room, he noticed her angry features. Daemon thought she looked really cute, but it was no time for compliments that would make her even more angry.
He broke the ice, knowing she wouldn't say a word before he explained himself. "I already told you, she wasn't supposed to be here."
"Where were you?" The princess questioned.
"You really don't want to know." He said with a little bit of annoyance.
"But I do, Daemon! I thought you left me here!" Y/N replied angrily.
"I would never do that. I took her back to Pentos." He tried to take the princess' hand but she smacked him off.
"What? Essos? You crossed the narrow sea?" Y/N frowned in confusion. She couldn't understand why would him do that.
"She's not here anymore, so it doesn't really matters." Daemon tried to get close but she stepped backwards.
"But it does! Why are we even here!?" Y/N snapped.
"I am the prince of Dragonstone! This is my home, our home! The last thing I want now is to talk about her while we're on the home of our future children!"
Y/N's mouth opened in shock. Now it was time to discuss what kind of relationship they had?
"Children? Daemon, what are you talking about? I don't even know what we have! Until last week I thought you hated the idea of being with me." Y/N chuckled in confusion, making the prince roll his eyes.
"Gods, don't be so fucking dramatic. I happen to like you, that's all. Would you rather I was here with Mysaria, leaving you hanging in the capital all alone?" He questioned.
Y/N clenched her jaw and fist, resisting the urge to punch her husband's royal face.
"What did you just say?" She took a step further, her face was an inch away from his.
"What I meant to say," He started, getting even more close to her where their lips almost touched, "is that I'm trying to start a life with you. We're married, after all."
"But that's not what I heard!" She said harshly.
Daemon's hand grabbed her by the throat, and his body crashed with hers when her back hit the wall behind her. Y/N gasped softly, a little bit astonish by his actions.
"Stop being so tough!" His said between gritted teeth, "Shut your fucking mouth and listen to your husband. That's what good wives do."
She chocked on her own words and pride, nodding to whatever he said, without questioning it. After getting to know the true Daemon Targaryen, she lost all the magic of a perfect prince that her mind created through the years. But now, Y/N couldn't understand why she have never felt so attracted to him. He was being rude and possessive, and somehow that turned her on.
"Why do you always have to act like this when you're with me? It's like you have fun arguing." Daemon whispered, prepping kisses on her neck.
"You're being unfair, we haven't argued in a week." The princess closed her eyes, losing herself to the touch of his soft lips.
"And yet you refuse to open yourself to me." His hands left her throat and went to her jaw, grabbing it tightly. "But not anymore. I shall make you give yourself entirely to me."
"Open your mouth for me, princess," He demanded.
Y/N did as he asked, and the prince bit his lip as he entered with his thumb into her aperture. The girl closed her lips around his finger, and sucked her cheeks, creating a vacuum. She licked his finger and softly bit the tip of it, which made him smirk. Daemon pulled his thumb out and wrapped her throat with his hand.
Daemon pulled her up, intertwining her legs around his waist. He walked through the room and tossed her body on the bed. Y/N watched him taking his clothes off and then getting on top of her.
"You have no idea about the things that I want to do with you, Y/N. The things that I want to make you feel."
Daemon started to go down her body touching her clothed pussy. The princess gasped at his touch and bit her bottom lip. Her nails were deep in the bed sheets and her heart was beating like a drum. His hands assaulted her trousers, until it met her panties' fabric.
"You are so wet, all for me. My good little princess." Daemon praised her in a low voice, while rubbing his thumb against her clothed clit, sending shivers down her body, "Tell me what you want, Y/N, I want to hear you."
The girl never felt something like that before. Her body was screaming to be touched. She craved his hands on her body, craved his mouth on her. She needed him to be fully inside her like she needed air to breathe.
"Please, Daemon" The princess moaned as he made circles with index finger on her clothed clit. "Please, make me yours" She begged.
"See, I don't think you understand, my little sand dragon." He whispered, leaving a soft kiss on her inner thigh after taking her trousers off, "You're already mine. Mine to do whatever the fuck I want."
He took off underwear, leaving her vulva uncovered. Daemon grabbed her waist and brought his face against her intimacy, making her shiver as she felt his cool breath touch the sensitive skin of her core. His thumb found her swollen clit, where he made slow circular moves and she moaned to his touch. The princess' hands brushed against his silver hair as his mouth touched her wet center. He made slow moves with his tongue, sliding it from her entrance to the clit. Y/N bit her lip as she moaned, feeling the ecstasy building inside her like she was about to come at any moment.
"Fuck, Daemon–" She tried to warn him but before she could finish her sentence, she came into in his mouth.
Daemon licked his lips before climbing up her body and fit himself between her legs. He helped her to take of her dress as her breathing was normalizing after the adrenaline. He lowered his boxers, freeing his hard cock from his underwear. He brushed his tip at her slit and fit into it. The girl could feel his length entering her slowly, while his hands found her breasts and squeezed them tightly. She whined to the contact as he began to move his hips back and forth in a slow rhythm. His mouth found her neck where he left kisses and hickeys, and extended it's actions to her chest right after. The Rogue Prince took her hard nipple into his mouth and started sucking on it. She rolled my eyes in pleasure as her nails raked his back. His thrusts started to get faster, making his hips snapped into hers while he moaned against her skin.
"You're so fucking tight, princess," He whispered next to my ear.
Y/N turned their bodies on the bed, placing herself on top of him. She took control and looked at him underneath her, so impotent. The princess grabbed his hands and took them to the top of his head. Daemon started to groan while she was riding him, which sounded like music do her ears. It was enough for her to know she was giving him so much pleasure, moving her hips in different ways and motions, going up and down on his hard cock. For someone who was having sex for the first time, she was experienced. Her father made her take lessons with his whores back in Dorne, preparing her for this moment, where she woud pleasure her prince husband.
"You feel so good inside of me," She moaned into his ear to be provocative.
"You're having a great time, huh? Let me show you who's in command here," He freed himself from her hands and grabbed her hips tightly.
Daemon had his hands on her waist with his thumbs pressing into my sides. He buried his entire cock inside of her cunt, making her take every inch of him. She whined loudly, grabbing his shoulder trying not to lose her balance.
He moved his hips up and down, fucking her hard and going deeper in every thrust. Y/N moaned against his skin, when her mouth met his neck, leaving marks on his collarbone. She felt his thick length hitting her g-spot, making her bit my lip hard not to scream.
"Do you like that Y/N? I know you do. You take my cock so well, it's like you were made for me." He growled while pounding into her.
"I'm gonna cum, Daemon!" She cried out.
"Look at you, my slutty little princess taking me like a whore. I'm gonna cum inside you and make you swollen with my child. I bet you would love that, wouldn't you? You're gonna look so pretty when I make you fucking pregnant." He increased the pressure of his hands on her hips, grabbing it more tightly, where would probably bruise later.
His praisings and degradations were driving her insane. She could feel her second orgasm coming and she knew he was close too. Daemon started to slam himself inside her, making her come on his cock. He growled into her ear and kissed her mouth as he came inside her. Y/N felt him twitching through her walls, filling her with his seed.
She fell by his side and hugged his naked body, placing her head on his toned chest. Daemon gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, and closed his eyes in relaxation. They quickly fell asleep due tiredness.
Her fingers slightly danced through his silver long hair, forming braids with it. She hummed a song, while Daemon played with their 2 year old daughter, Rhaenya. The young girl had curly silver hair, due the princess' Velaryon blood, and lilac eyes like hers and Daemon's. Since she was born, the prince decided to take a break on wars and anything that could risk his life. No one would thought that the Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen, loved being a parent.
Princess Y/N was 5 months pregnant of her second — and last — child. They came to the conclusion that being in a small family was for the best. In a political statement, they should have as many children as they can, so they can spread the Targaryen line. But, they lived comfortably being in a small family environment, away from the capital, the king and it's dramas, so no one could tell them how to live their lives.
"Emagon ao thought bē brōzāt?" Daemon asked softly, chuckling while Rhaenya played with his nose. (Have you thought about names?)
"Nyke emagon. Skoros bē ao?" Y/N smiled, finishing the fifth braid on his hair. (I have. What about you?)
"Nyke emagon issare otāpagon bē Daemor, isse case ziry iksos nykeā valonqar." Daemon smirked, bitting his daughter chubby cheek and making her yelp. (I have been thinking about Daemor, in case it's a boy.)
"Daemor? Skoros does bona poghash bē ao hae nykeā kepa?" Y/N laughed loudly, which made her child laugh too. Daemon frowned. (Daemor?What does that says about you as father?)
"Kostilus nyke tolī Targārien than nyke rattan naejot sagon. Nyke also thought bē Rhaegor." The prince rolled is eyes to his own sentence. (Perhaps I am more a Targaryen then I liked to be. I also thought about Rhaegor.)
"Nyke raqagon Rhaegor. Lo ziry iksos nykeā hāedar, nyke istan otāpagon bē Daerys." Y/N confessed. (I like Rhaegor. If it's a girl, I was thinking about Daerys.)
"Sir, skoros does bona poghash bē ao hae nykeā muñnykeā?" Daemon said, getting a wicked giggle from his wife. (Now, what does that says about you as a mother?)
"Hae nykeā muñnykeā? Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon. Hae nykeā ābrazȳrys, ziry poghash 'nyke jorrāelagon issa valzȳrys'" She kissed the top of his head, making the prince smile. (As a mother? I don't know. As a wife, it says "I love my husband'.)
"Avy jorrāelan, issa byka rizmon zaldrīzes." He turned around, facing her. (I love you, my little sand dragon.)
Daemon pecked her lips, making her smile even larger. The little girl wiggled her arms, asking for her mother embrace. The princess took the young in her arms and kissed her silver curls.
"Avy jorrāelan tolī." (I love you too.)
#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen imagines#daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen#house of the dragon imagines#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon
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Prompt/Headcanon:
Yes, yes, everyone loves Alastor being addicted to Lucifer’s blood in this fandom (me too tbh)… but what if,,, the opposite was true? Lucifer being addicted to Alastor’s blood? 👀
It started small.
Just one lick.
It had been an accident. He and Alastor had been in the middle of one of their all-out, don’t-stop-til-you-drop brawls. Alastor had started it, because of course he had – he was like the personification of stubbing your toe on the edge of the table, except he was around all the damn time. Lucifer had a vague recollection of yelling at him – “Do you really need to play ragtime jazz at three in the morning? And why are all your speakers facing my side of the hotel?” – and the glimmer of sharp teeth before It Happened.
Alastor shoved him out of the way with his staff, but Lucifer caught it at the last second and tried to pry it out of his grasp a little too enthusiastically. But Alastor – being the prideful, stubborn sore loser that he was – refused to let go, which meant Lucifer suddenly found himself squashed between an irate deer and the hard wall behind them.
“Gerroff–” As soon as he spoke, he felt something soft and pliable split beneath the sharp edge of his tooth.
A second later, something warm and wet touched his tongue. Just a drop.
But sometimes, a drop was all it took.
It was…it was like nothing he had ever tasted before. Like sin and death and the sweetness of apples, all rolled into one. His throat burned, as if he’d chugged an entire barrel of whiskey and stepped up for another round. Everything else he had ever tasted, ever drank, ever smoked, ever kissed faded from his lips entirely. He went in for another lick – but only found empty air.
Alastor had stepped away, rubbing at the side of his neck. The small scratch he’d made was already closed. Lucifer swallowed, his tongue suddenly a size too thick for his mouth. Alastor’s eyes narrowed, his pupils shifting to twin dials, clearly annoyed that someone had tasted him. That was the kind of thing he did to other people.
And from then on, Lucifer was an angel possessed.
—-----------------------------
Every time he caught a glimpse of Alastor, the bittersweet taste of forbidden fruit clouded his mind. He hungered. He needed. And he schemed and plotted away for that next fix.
The only problem was Alastor. He was very, very good at plotting – much better than Lucifer was.
If he crept up behind Alastor while he was chopping ingredients (a devastatingly domestic scene that never failed to make his heart skip a beat), Alastor would put him to work stirring the pot on the opposite side of the kitchen. If he accidentally-on-purpose tried to get close enough to graze him with a sharp claw, Alastor would make very loud insinuations about personal space that would leave Angel Dust snickering and Charlie wide-eyed – Dad, why do you want to get close to Alastor? Ohmigod, are you guys…doing it? What about Mom?
And as he tried to calm his hyperventilating daughter, Alastor would disappear down the hall, spinning his cane and humming West End Blues.
Once, he got so desperate he just leapt off the stairs, aiming straight for that smooth, slender neck of his – and ended up with a face full of carpet. Alastor re-appeared with one foot ground against the back of his head, the shadows behind him laughing so hard he thought they might laugh themselves out of existence.
He was going out of his mind. It had been days, and his whole mouth felt like dust. He smacked his head against the bar so hard glasses rattled in their shelves.
“Why, your Majesty, there’s no need to knock out what little brain cells you have left!” Came a merry, smug, utterly punchable voice to his left. He cracked open his eyes, glaring at Alastor’s wide smile, his gleeful, knowing expression. “If there’s something you want…have you ever tried asking?”
Admittedly, the thought had never crossed his mind.
"Can I...you know..." He gestured towards Alastor's neck, so neatly buttoned and hidden out of sight.
Alastor's eyes flashed green, a ghostly, stitched-up smile hovering just out of sight. "Perhaps. If you're very, very good." He leaned back, satisfaction burning like a brand on every inch of his face. "Only time will tell!"
This time, Lucifer did punch him.
#radioapple#prompt#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel alastor#if i didn't end it here it would be another 10000 word monstrosity lmao#duckiedeer#alastor#feed me more prompts!!!
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UNEVEN ODDS — CH. 3
Chapter Three: Light Carries On Endlessly Even After Death
Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?
Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, tiny fluff, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Singing, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, Zombies, eventual SMUT, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing
Word Count: 9.7k
A/N: This chapter is inspired by a mix of quotes and songs! Super unrelated, but it occurred to me, if I was in TLOU universe, I would not survive. I need my antidepressants and immediately would call it quits LMAO. (I know dark humor sorry :,) If you want to see my thought process (idk if you want to) I’ll put it at the end notes! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and notes! I genuinely appreciate it and it means alot to me <3
Song: Make You Feel My Love by Adele
Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter | Series Masterlist
TLOU WORLD — 2023
TEN MILES WEST OF BOSTON – DUSK
You trek your way into the forest, you hear your footsteps squishing through the mud and dirt, and the pounding of your breath. The sun is beginning to set, dusk then brings you moonlight, a time to reflect on the day that has past and look forward to the day that will be refreshed by the glow of the sun. It is the time when the birds sing farewell till the stars call them to sleep under the wings. Each color intensifies in beautiful solemnity, uniting in the darkness.
No one spoke for the entirety of the hike, the silence carries your melancholy, yet it is a permanent friend of your subconsciousness. The deafness is only broken by ragged breaths and the beating of human hearts. Joel comes to a stop, his back facing you and Ellie as he speaks, “We’ll camp here for the night. I’ll take watch.”
You look to Ellie who merely shrugs, the two of you say nothing and begin to set up camp on the forest floor. You hear the rushing water of a river nearby and realize where you’ve ended up. Placing your backpack on the floor, you raise your arms and stretch to the sky, undoing the painful knots in your back and neck. You let out a sigh of relief and prepare for the inevitable. Joel calls out your name and you turn to face him, ready to take on the brunt of his pain and rage.
His eyebrows lower slightly, and the tone of his voice goes down a pitch, “You and I need to talk.” You take an uneasy breath and nod in agreement despite the sweat coating both palms. He takes a step closer to you and asks, “Did you know?” he raises his voice a little, “Did you know about Tess?” You look down in shame and whisper, “Yes.”
It takes everything he has to keep his control, jaw clenched and narrowed eyes, “Why?” he says. A question so simple, a three-letter word holding so much weight, and so much anger towards you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You swallow and avoid responding, choosing silence over an argument. He scoffs and shakes his head, and you cross your arms across your chest. The more he fumed, the smaller you made herself.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, and only look up to see his broad shoulders and back facing you, he mumbles with a quiet rage, “I’m gonna go check the area and make sure it’s safe and that there aren’t any infected nearby.”
“This ain’ gonna work if you keep hidin’ secrets from me Hummin’ bird.” He turns and walks away, disappearing into the woods. “Well, that was dramatic.” You turn to find Ellie sitting comfortably, back resting against the pine tree in a crisscross position, you open your mouth to ask if she was okay but decided against it. Instead, you nod, “Yeah. I’m, um, sorry about that.” Ellie only shrugs, “He must’ve loved her or something.” Your gaze softens as you whisper into the cool navy twilight, “Or something.”
YOUR ORIGINAL OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE — JANUARY 2023, NOON
WASHINGTON STATE UNIVERSITY, FUNDAMENTAL QUANTUM PHYSICS LAB
The sleeves of your white lab coat itch your arms as you focused on typing up your report. The clacking sound of your keyboard could be heard from around the lab as you typed. You were invited to assist in a study focusing on quantum mechanics and theory. The lab wasn’t as busy today, most of them had decided to join the conference that was being held at Harvard, busy networking and connecting with possible investors or fellow researchers.
It was only you and Adam that was left in the lab, his excuse was he would rather put acid in his eyes than shake hands and give fake niceties. He’s nearby testing his new hypothesis, and decides to make conversation with you, “If we manage to prove this, then it is possible, somewhere in the many worlds, a pandemic happened earlier in a different universe.” You roll your eyes in amusement, “Yeah, I guess so.” You’re in thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think humanity won? Like, they overcame it?” He hums, “Maybe. Or maybe they lost.” You snort and throw a careless joke, “Everyone would blame our shitty government and us, the scientists. How ignorant must you be for it to happen twice?”
“Well, all disaster movies start with a scientist being ignored.” He says matter-of-factly, and you give no response, and you continue typing up your report. Silently hoping that if it were true, that humanity would still have hope, small but just enough to let the shine through, and believe that they haven’t lost yet. You look at the time and log out of your work computer, packing up your things, and asking Adam if he would like to join you for lunch he politely declines, so you bid him farewell as you head out the doors to step on the grey pavement of the campus and make your way to a nearby restaurant. It’s a beautiful day, you think to yourself, clear blue skies and a cool breeze that caresses your skin. You take notice of the blue butterfly fluttering its wings and flying right past you, you smile as it leaves an afterimage of change.
TLOU WORLD — 2023
TEN MILES WEST OF BOSTON — CIVIL TWILIGHT DAWN
You wake up with a deep inhale, your eyes struggle to open, and try to understand where you were. Tired from the dream, well, a memory that replayed like a cassette tape on a player that pressed rewind. You blink a couple of times before rubbing your eyes awake and retrace your steps in your mind as you recall what happened last night, only to remember giving Ellie your jacket and waiting up for Joel to come back from scouting the area for any signs of danger.
You sit up a little straighter and crack the aching parts of your neck, you look next to yourself and see Ellie lightly snoring up against a tree, still asleep. You look at the familiar jacket draped over your body that had kept you warm during the cold night. Joel must’ve placed it on top of you when he found you barely awake and functioning.
You can’t help but smile and feel your heart flutter at the thought of him taking care of you. You feel the muscles of your cheeks tighten as you try to hide away your smile and hoist yourself up quietly, not wanting to disturb Ellie’s slumber. Letting Joel’s jacket drape off of your shoulders, you use your hands to hold the collar, creating a cape that drapes behind you.
You head towards the sound of the stream, it burbles as it travels along its bed, bubbling over rocks and branches. It was a delicate duck-egg blue, like the delicate sweep of a painter's brush. It snuck and snuck its way past all impediments, even the river's stones. Twigs spun across its murmuring surface, small messengers from the mountain trees that had brought them there. The creek rushed across the riverbed's pebbles. It sounded like a starling flock's airy, silky spin.
In the background, the mountains stood silently, a sullen presence of sky-punching glory. Snow brooches adorned their lofty peaks, which were encircled in angel-white wreaths. A weeping torrent cascaded down the granite wall. It appeared to be a silk-blue slide pouring down the mountain. It looked to be bound in silver as it carried its burden of ice crystals. It emitted a distant thrumming sound, similar to the constant rumble of a drum roll. It glowed brightly as it fed the riverbed, the forest's lifeblood. It was a breathtaking sight.
Your gaze turns to fine Joel’s figure kneeling, hunched over, and quietly picking stones from the river’s edge. You watch from a distance as he silently stacks a pile of stones to create a cairn, a memorial for Tess. You make sure your footsteps can be heard as you approach him, but he gave no acknowledgment as you decide to sit atop a large rock. It takes a while before he looks at you, and finds you staring right through him with sorrowful eyes.
You let out a huff of air before speaking in a neutral tone, “I don’t mean to keep secrets from you. If I had come here a day before the pandemic, a day before your birthday, I would have done everything to make sure this never happened.” You paused for a moment then continued, “You asked me why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell you because I thought I could do it on my own. I’ve been doing this for my whole life, keeping the peace and fixing things by myself, and I got it right every time. And the one time I get it wrong it cost someone’s life.”
You feel your voice quiver as you spoke, eyes darting to look past him, afraid of the rage and grief he feels, “Someone you loved is gone. I’m sorry, Joel. But God, I know that will never be enough and no amount of apologies will bring her back. I had a chance and I fucked up. If I could… If I could press rewind and trade her life for mine I would if that would make it any better for you.”
“No.” Joel states and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and slowly bring your eyes to look at him, “No?” And he shakes his head and picks up another rock as he says, “I accept your apology, but stop doin’ that.” You tilt your head quizzically, “Don’t do what?” He gruffly replies, “Minimize your life as if it doesn’t matter. As if it ain’t just as important.” She felt her breathing pause and peered intently at him before trying to argue, “But–” He shuts her down before she could go on, “Stop it, as you said, no amount of apologizin’ is gonna bring her back. She’s gone. I made a promise to her that I’m plannin’ on keepin’, you gonna help me or not?”
That throws you off balance, you expected him to lash out, maybe throwing a rock or two at you, not this. Slowly you nod, “Yes. Yes, I will.” Joel looks and searches for any form of malice or lies and finds none. He simply stretches his arm to you, the rock he previously took from the river’s edge, and holds it out to you like an olive branch. You slide off the rock you were sitting on and take the rock from his hand, crouching down and quietly placing it on top of the cairn.
You stare at the pile of rocks for a moment, quiet in thought, but then Joel says your name in a whisper that wouldn’t even fog the glass, you raise your eyes to look at him as he asks, “Was she, in your world, did she, um, already um…” And you already know what he’s wondering before he tries and say the words, so you save him the trouble of continuing, giving him a nod you reply solemnly, “Yes.”
“And when we get to Bill and Frank’s? What do you know about that?” He says, and you blink back your tears, flashbacks of that episode occur in your mind, remembering their love for each other and what would happen once we got there. You apologetically smile at him, “Out of respect for the both of them. It’s best to find out when you get there.”
His eyebrows arch inwards in concern, “Are they okay?” And you hesitate, thinking how to appropriately word this without lying, but then you remember, “Yes, they’re content.”
Joel’s eyes look back down at the cairn the decides to get up. You see him hold out his hand for you, and you take it to hoist yourself up. “Let’s go back and see if Ellie’s awake.” He states, then let’s go of your hand, making his way back to the kid. You stand there for a second, glancing at the pile of stones that represent her legacy, then back at Joel, you decide to walk forward toward your future beginning to unfold.
TEN MILES WEST OF BOSTON — DAY
The sound of birds chirping can be heard as you walk behind Joel, finding Ellie awake with her sitting upright with her knees pulled to her chest and your jacket still being used as a makeshift blanket. Joel goes through his pack to get a bark of food and Ellie breaks the silence to question you, “You want your jacket back?”
You nod and grab it from her as she holds it out to you, putting it on, you remove Joel’s brown jacket to place it on top of Ellie. Her face drops, “Seriously?” And you shrug to whisper, “You guys need to talk too.” You begin to pack up and wear your backpack.
Joel takes a bite from his food only to crumple the wrapper to throw it at Ellie as if she was some dog. You look at him in slight annoyance as Ellie rolls her eyes and takes picks it up from the ground to also take a bite of food. He makes himself busy as he adjusts the strap of his worn-out backpack, trying to ignore the kid, but Ellie is persistent, “I’ve never been in the woods.” She chews before continuing, “More bugs than I thought.” Joel doesn’t respond, disregarding her statement, and fidgets with the buckles and straps. Ellie huffs, her shoulders tense and her voice louder as says, “Look, I’ve been thinking about…”
Joel shoots straight up to swing his backpack over his shoulder, “I don’t want your sorries.” Your eyes swing over to Ellie as she retorts, “I wasn’t gonna say I’m sorry. I was gonna say I’ve been thinking about what happened. Nobody made you or Tess take me. Nobody made you go along with this plan.” Joel stands there as he listens to her go on, “You needed a truck battery or whatever and you made a choice.” Then her voice lowers an octave and slightly quivers, “So don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault.”
Joel has his jaw clenched and you could see the vein in his neck preparing to burst, but all he does is give a silent nod at Ellie, then she looks away. Joel picks up his rifle and Ellie stands up to walk to him, backpack, and food, in one hand and Joel’s jacket in the other. She stretches out her arm for Joel to take it from her, a truce, as he gently grabs it and folds it. A small smile stretches across your face and you relax.
“How much longer?” Ellie asks him, and he responds calmly, “Five-hour hike.” The kid nods and states, “We can manage that.”
You take note of the trees arching and twisting from above you, the leaves creating patterns with their shadows, and not a single blade of grass out of place. It’s surprisingly quiet and almost peaceful as you follow Joel and Ellie across the wooden bridge, letting your mind wander, and quietly hum tunes that remind you of home. And when you no longer wanted to hum, you reflected on what happened on September 26, 2003. When it all fell apart on Joel’s birthday. The day seemed so normal, with clear blue skies and a celebration of life between a father and a daughter. You should have known, but now you learn, blue skies were a sight you never trusted again.
“You’ve gone this way a lot? No infected?” Ellie asks, seemingly exhausted from not talking for so long. “Not often, no,” Joel replies, steadily looking for any form of danger, “What are you looking for?” And you respond for him, “People.” Ellie hums in acknowledgment, “Are Bill and Frank nice?” Joel replies lightly, “Frank is.” Glad you’re behind the two, and maybe it’s the past that’s talking, but flashes of their love come back to you in a blur.
Ellie continues asking Joel the question, “Where’d you get that scar on your head?” You frown at that and remember exactly how he got it, he sighs at her. “What? Is it something lame? Like you fell down the stairs or something?” Ellie teasingly said, and his whiskey-deep voice gravelly replied, “I didn’t fall down any stairs.”
“I fell down the stairs a lot in high school. Every year for four years.” You mumble your input without any thought and Ellie looks over at you with concern, “How the fuck are you still alive.” And you frown slightly, “To be honest, I have no fucking clue either.” The kid turns back to Joel, “Okay, so what then?” Ellie asks and Joel vaguely replies, “Someone shot at me and missed.”
“See, that’s cool. Did you shoot back?” The young girl states and looks at Joel with so much wonder and amazement, Joel glances at her and then responds, “Yeah.” Ellie continues, “You get him?” He’s practically done with her asking so many questions but replies anyway, “No, I missed too. It happens more often than you think.”
“Because you suck at shooting or, like, in general?” You then bite back a laugh at Ellie’s comment, however, your eyes crinkle as you do. Vexed, Joel turns to look at Ellie, then away from her, “In general.” You snort at his response and this time he looks over his shoulder to look at you and you stare right back at him.
Ellie glances at Joel’s revolver gun in its holder and looks back up at Joel, “You know, seeing as it’s just the three of us, and she has a gun already, I was thinking I should pro–” Joel doesn’t hesitate with his response, “No.” Ellie only rolls her eyes at his response and keeps quiet for a bit.
The three of you step over a fallen electric pole and turn a corner, “Cumberland Farms.” Ellie reads out the sign as you pass by it, Joel hurries his pace a bit before saying to you both, “Hang back a minute. I gotta grab some stuff I stashed.”
“Stashed? Why do you have stuff stashed here?” Ellie asks still following Joel, irritated he says, “You ask a lot of goddamn questions.” She smirks, “Yes, I do.” Joel opens the door to the store, the sound of metal scraping against the floor as he does. “So, you gonna answer me or what?” Joel sighs and gives in, “We hide supplies on routes in case we find ourselves short on gear which I currently am because…”
“No way!” Ellie exclaims happily, and hurriedly makes her way to a Mortal Kombat machine, “You ever play this one?” You watch her mash buttons and mess with the joystick, while Joel lingers around, “I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There’s this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones.” She sighs, “Oh man.” You look to Joel, entertained by him looking through a bunch of junk, Ellie turns to notice what you're looking at, “You forgot where you put your stuff.”
Joel shakes his head and denies, “No. I’m just zeroing in on it. It’s been a couple of years.” You lightly laugh, your shoulders slightly bouncing up and down as you do, “So, what? You’re using echolocation to look for it?” Joel only glances at you and sighs. Ellie smiles and says, “Okay, well, I’m gonna take a look around. See if there’s anything good.” Joel kicks something and replies, “Trust me, it’s all been picked over already.” Ellie hums thoughtfully, “Maybe, maybe not.” She makes her way to an open door and asks, “Is there anything bad in here?”
“Just you.” He retorts, and Ellie sighs, “Ah, getting funnier.”
Joel shoves something and it doesn’t budge, “Fuck.” You laugh again at his struggle, and he looks at you unimpressed, “Do you, by any chance know where it is?” You smirk, “Yep.” He raises his eyebrows at you, “Do you wanna, maybe, I dunno, help me?” You twist your mouth to the side, cross your arms across your chest, and look up, mockingly thinking, “Eventually.”
Joel sighs at you, one hand on his hip as he does, then he says your name in a low-pitched voice, and you smile innocently at him from across the store. “And why won’t you tell me where it is?” You shrug and playfully say, “I like seeing you struggle.”
Electricity fills the air and you feel the warmth on your face, his brown eyes have now turned a shade darker than usual, and you watch him breathe a little deeper. Your tongue darts out a little bit to wet your lower lip and feel your heart race wildly. He stands there confidently, you notice his salt and pepper hair, his beautiful tan skin, and how the lines under his eyes and forehead remind you of maps you wish to trace your fingers on as they stretch, and there are too many miles to count.
Wide-eyed in realization, you open your mouth, finding words to explain or excuse yourself but found none. Closing your gaping mouth, you quickly turn around to walk out of the store. Joel says your name, low and thick, you can feel the vibrations through your bones, it stops you in your tracks with your back facing him, “Where do you think your goin’? Turn around.”
You close your eyes for a second and try to quiet your beating heart, you follow his command, like a puppet on a string. “Where is it?” He asks as you feel his stare roam all over your body even from the large gap between you two, and you blink owlishly at him and out of breath, “Um, it’s at, um…” You clear your throat and try again, “It’s at the end of the aisle, underneath the newspapers.”
“Come over here and help me lift this shit.” And your feet move forward to the man who is now crouched down and waiting for you. You kneel next to him, and as you tilt your head to look at him, you are now inches apart and unknowingly even closer at heart. You shyly look down on the piece of wood hiding his stash, “You should um, probably open it.”
He says nothing in response and you watch as he pulls his knife out and slices through the wood to create a small gap to lift it off the ground. You help him move it to the side, fingertips brushing against each other, feather-light touches that ignite a fire within you. In the corner of your eye, you see him begin to dig through the supplies he had left behind. It then occurs to you that you haven’t heard from Ellie in a while, you look to Joel with a concerned look, “We haven’t heard Ellie in a while,” you whisper.
He nods and proceeds to call for her, “Ellie?” He receives no response and the worry expands in your belly. Joel gets up and so do you, this time you try to call for her, “Ellie.” Getting nothing as well. Joel pulls out his revolver and turns to you, “Wait here.” You nod and follow his request, he approaches the door, “Ellie?” and she walks out fine and unscathed, “Picked over, my ass.” She says holding up a box of tampons.
You let out a sigh of relief, even though you knew she would be fine, but the nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you that things could change for the better or worse in any situation. Your being in this universe has an effect now, especially the fact you’re running around with the two main characters of this story. Whatever you say or choose not to say will have repercussions if you’re not careful. That’s something you learned the hard way.
Joel puts his gun away as Ellie shoves her find into her pack. He kneels down to put away the green toolbox and rifle under his stash, Ellie watches and asks, “What are you doing?” He responds, “There’s not much ammo out there for this thing. Makes it mostly useless.” You help him put the board back on and to no one’s surprise she tries to take advantage of the opportunity, “Well, if you’re just gonna leave it there…” Joel stands and you follow suit, he looks at Ellie sternly, “No.”
He turns to walk out of the store and Ellie follows after him, defeated. You watch the two go-ahead before glancing at the open door, knowing exactly what Ellie had found down there. Swallowing down your fear, you force yourself to keep going.
You continue to walk along the road, the clouds march on and the trees bow down to give their leaves, to offer you some shade along your journey. Walking by you see the wreckage of an airplane atop a hill, broken parts, and pieces scattered along the field. Ellie breathes out, “Holy shit.” The three of you stop walking to gaze at it fondly, “You fly in one of those?” The kid asks you and Joel, and he replies, “Few times, sure.”
Ellie is looking up at you, searching for your answer, and you give her a nod, “Yeah, a couple of times.” She brings her focus back to the wreckage and sighs, “So lucky.” Joel disagrees, “Didn’t feel like it at the time. Get shoved into a middle seat, pay 12 bucks for a sandwich.”
“Dude, you got to go up in the sky,” Ellie says, and you frown, simple things that got taken for granted, you knew all too well. “Yeah, well, so did they,” Joel says with dejection in his voice, then decides to keep moving. Something all he’s ever known. Ellie mutters, “Grim.”
“So everything came crashing down in one day?” Ellie questions and Joel nods, “Pretty much.” Ellie doesn’t settle for that and chooses to follow up with a, “How? I mean, no one was infected with cordyceps. Everybody’s fine eating in restaurants and flying in planes. And then, all at once? How did it even start? If you have to get bit to get infected, then who bit the first person?” She pauses, “Was it a monkey? I bet it was a monkey.”
You huff in amusement, “If it were a monkey, this wouldn’t have happened.” Joel looks at you then turns back to Ellie and replies, “It wasn’t a monkey. I thought you went to school?” Ellie frowns, “FEDRA school. They don’t teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic.”
You flinch at her statement and think for a nanosecond, fuck. You hear your memories echo back to you. You snort and throw a careless joke, “Everyone would blame our shitty government and all the scientists. How ignorant must you be for it to happen twice?” Adam replies, “Well, all disaster movies start with a scientist being ignored.”
You painfully exhale and look to Ellie, parroting back the words you heard not long ago, “All disasters start with a scientist being ignored.” Joel and Ellie listen to you intently as you remember what had happened, and you continue on, “A scientist named Dr. Neuman sometime in the 1960s had feared this would happen. People laughed and brushed it off.”
You close your eyes and try and untangle the strings of memories and information about their world, “Your outbreak started in Jakarta, Indonesia on September 24, 2003. A flour and grain factory, on the west side of the city. The perfect substrate. A normal woman suddenly turned violent, attacked four of her coworkers, and bit three of them. They locked her in the bathroom and when the police arrived, she tried to attack them, and they shot her. The people she bit were taken for observation. You could imagine what happened a few hours later.”
You open your eyes to realize you had stopped walking and see Joel and Ellie analyzing the new information, you press on, “No one knows who bit her first, but there were fourteen coworkers missing. Possibly already spreading the virus. The cordyceps mutated because the world got warmer, and some of it go into the food supply. Flour was the case, and there were certain brands of food that were sold everywhere all across the country, and across the world. Bread, cereal… pancake mix.” You paused, unable to go on, so Joel picked it up from there and continued walking as he spoke, “If you eat enough of it, it’ll get you infected. So the tainted food all hits the store shelves around the same time Thursday. People bought it ate some Thursday night or Friday morning. Day goes on, they started to get sick. Afternoon, evening… they got worse. Then they started biting. Friday night, September 26, 2003. And by Monday, everything was gone.”
Ellie is quiet for a bit then nods, “It makes more sense than monkeys. Thanks.” Joel lifts a shoulder, “Sure,” while you only nod with the silence that you continue to carry. Joel raises his arm to stop you and Ellie, “What?” She asks him. He exhales, “We’ll cut across the woods here.” Ellie looks at him skeptically, “Isn’t the road easier?”
“Yeah, it’s just… There’s some stuff up there you shouldn’t see.” Joel says, the tone in his voice very fatherly. You look to Ellie expectantly, as she cheekily smiles at him and walks ahead, “Well, now I have to see.”
“I don’t want you to.” Joel comments disapprovingly, but Ellie marches on, and he grunts, “Serious. Ellie.” You follow after the two, and the young girl asks, “Can it hurt me?” Joel replies straightforwardly, “No.” She turns and walks backward as she talks to him, “You’re too honest man. Should’ve said ax murderer.” Ellie carries on walking normally, while you and Joel look at each other consciously, with full awareness.
You decide to take a risky leap, gently take his hand, and squeeze it reassuringly. His weary eyes are drawn to your linked hands, fingers interlaced like a beautiful zipper of prayer. Hands are the maps and compasses we use to navigate our lives. Some people read palms to predict the future but you read hands to predict the past. Every scar has a tale worth sharing. Each calloused palm and fractured knuckle represents a missed punch or years spent in a factory. Your eyes tell him, ‘It’s okay, let her know.’ And he seems to understand, giving you a short nod. Because, what is a girl if not a buzzing creature discovering what the world will take from her?
“Whatever it is, I think it’s gone,” Ellie yells out to you both, only to stop short moments after to look at the ditch below. Skeletons were jumbled together and littered the dirt. You and Joel reach Ellie, with hands still intertwined, she’s looking up at you both for an explanation. Joel emits a long, deep, audible breath expressing his sadness, “About a week after Outbreak Day, soldiers… went through the countryside and evacuated the small towns. Told you you were going to a QZ, and you were… if there was room.” He hesitates, “If there wasn’t…”
These people were wiped clean away, leaving only a wristwatch or a blanket. The only proof that they ever existed. Ellie feels out of sorts as she mutters, “These people weren’t sick?” Joel replies fixed and controlled, “No, probably not.” The girl nods while blinking away her melancholy and frustration she asks quietly, “Why kill them? Why not just leave them be?” You take a shaky inhale before responding, “Because dead people can’t get infected.”
Joel squeezes your hand in reassurance, and it grounds you from remembering what had happened that sunny day. How easy it was for the government and military to manipulate everyone into believing everything was under control. People that you trusted and elected for a hopeful cause only for them to betray you in the end. You tip your head up to Joel and he looks at your sparkling eyes, looking up at him searching for some kind of answer. But he gazes at you, with no answers, instead, is filled with promises. Because what is an adult if not a terrified being desperate to protect something you can't save?
AMHERST COUNTY, MASSACHUSETTS, LINCOLN, – NOON
You, Joel, and Ellie approach the electric fence gate surrounding the small town of Lincoln. The site is hauntingly beautiful, a white large house can be seen from a distance, while trees dance in the wind, you can picture this neighborhood having plenty of kids playing out on the street without a care in the world. As you approach the gate, there’s a number keypad attached to the side, he glances at you and Ellie, “Stay there.” He punches in the four-digit code and there is a high pitch ring, indicating that the passcode was correct, and the metal gate unlocks.
Joel opens the gate for Ellie to walk through first, and then you. He closes the gate behind him as he follows you both inside. The environment is suspenseful and suspiciously quiet, Joel places his hand on his revolver while noticing the wilting yellow flowers outside the house. He pushes down on the door handle, surprised that it was left unlocked, he removes his revolver from the holster and cautiously walks inside. Ellie mumbles, “What the fuck?” while Joel yells out, “Bill? Frank?” Your palms begin to sweat and you discreetly wipe them down on your pants, Joel turns to look at you and Ellie, “You stay there. You hear anything… you see anything yell.”
“What if they’re gone?” Ellie asks and Joel doesn’t respond, only looking at her before turning and opening the door to the kitchen. She sighs and proceeds to look around the house. A grand piano sits in the living room, and Ellie curiously presses on a bunch of keys to listen to the notes play. And then you spot it, head tilting, you carefully take the envelope and key that sat on top of the wooden table, and feel the sense of sorrow you knew followed you around like a shadow.
You look to Ellie who was staring at you expectantly and then hand her the letter. You didn’t need to read what you already knew. Your footsteps are heavy as you pull out a seat from the dining room table, and fold your arms atop the desk before bending your head down. Your muscles were aching and exhausted, while the pounding in your head decided to return for another round. Ellie pulls out the chair next to you and opens the letter, quietly reading it.
You hear Joel from down the hall, trying to knock and unlock the door of Bill and Frank’s room, but hear the front door shut from the wind. This causes him to jump and call out for you and Ellie. None of you decide to reply. He stalks down the hall and turns right to the dining room, to find you quiet and resting your head against the dining table with Ellie reading the letter.
“It’s from Bill.” The girl says, and Joel decides to holster his revolver again. She reads aloud, “‘To whomever, but probably Joel’. I figured I fell into ‘whomever.’” And then shrugs, “It came with this,” she pushes a key across the dusty table adjacent to her and he removes his backpack before tossing it to the floor. He grabs the key to inspect it and then states, “So they’re dead?” Ellie nods, “Mhm. You wanna…” Joel shakes his head no, “Go ahead. You do it.”
Ellie clears her throat before reading out loud the words you cried over for a good week, “August 29, 2023. If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell but it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehe.” She pauses in confusion but goes on, “Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway, I never liked you but still, it’s like we’re friends, almost. And I respect you.”
You can already feel the flip in your stomach before you’ve even heard the part that would hit him the most, “So I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving.”
And it all comes rushing back to you, the love story of Bill and Frank, a chance meeting that would have only happened during the end of the times. You quietly tried your best to sit up straight, but your posture is still drooping and sagging. Placing your elbows on the table, and folding your hands, interlocking your fingers, you closed your eyes and let your head rest against your hands. And when your eyes closed, your guards came down, tears freely flowed down your cheeks, mentally deadened, tired, and nauseous as you listened, “That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…” Ellie stops abruptly, not wanting to continue.
Ellie purses her lips together in a line while Joel snatches the letter to read what she could not. To keep Tess safe. He swallows down his guilt and anger, “Stay here.” You open your puffy, bloodshot eyes as you hear him storm out of the house leaving the door open behind him. Feeling out of focus and indisposed, like a single loose thread that comes all undone. You curl one leg up to your chest and let your chin rest on top of it, and you can feel the snot dripping down your nose as you do. Bring the sleeve of your jacket, to wipe it off from your face, then use the palms of your hands to wipe the tears away.
But it proves useless as the tears continue to flow, Ellie silently moves to stand next to you and then gives an unexpected, but not unwelcomed, hug. You continue to cry harder, choking on every breath you take as you do, as you wrap your arms around Ellie’s waist and silently stroke your hair. Joel comes back to the house finding the sight of you broken and sobbing uncontrollably. Ellie only looks at him with saddened eyes, and a silent plea to help you.
You’re uncomfortably shattering into pieces, stitch by stitch it tears you apart, and a stained-glass variation of the truth leaves your brokenness on display. Joel walks behind you, unsure what to do or say, but he can feel the magnetic pull of wanting and needing to help you, quietly he asks you, “What do you need?”
He wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t incredibly silent if your voice hadn’t echoed off the walls, your voice hiccuping, so small and soft as you admit, “I don’t know…” But Joel does. Without question, Ellie gently lets go of you, to be replaced by Joel’s large arms wrapped around your shaking frame.
The seasons will eventually change, and you may choose to go into them shattered and busted, with stiff souls, wounded hearts, and raggedy spirits. But the tiny part of you will continue on because hope endures the agony of sadness; it does not require your protection or defense. For now, you will allow yourself to cry, sigh, and wish for things to be different in the comfort of the two people you’ve grown close with. Later, you will discover raw, wrung-out calm when you allow yourself to be human.
After a reprieve, you willed yourself to stop crying. You take a shaky inhale and be the first one to pull away from Joel. Sweaty, puffy, and slightly dehydrated, from the amount of crying you’ve managed to do in a small amount of time. You feel drowsy, exhausted, overwhelmed, and embarrassed. Rubbing your face with both hands, you heavily exhale and try to regroup yourself as you do.
Joel gently holds your wrist to reveal your face, he’s kneeling down in front of you, “You good?” Your eyes shift uncontrollably across his face, not able to focus on him properly but you nod anyway, you have to keep going, “Mhm, yes. I’m good now,” you said. He gives you a short nod and slowly pushes himself up to face Ellie who was quietly sitting down again, “Show me your arm.”
Ellie stands up and lifts her sleeve to reveal the bite on her arm already healing. Joel nods and says, “I just finished making a truck battery. It’s charging right now.” Ellie nods back, “Okay.” He continues on, “I have a brother out in Wyoming. He’s in some kind of trouble and I’m headin’ out there to find ‘em. He used to be a Firefly.” Ellie continues to silently nod, indicating that she was listening to him as he spoke, “And my guess is he knows where some of them are out there. Maybe they can get you to wherever this lab is.”
Ellie blinks, “All right. Listen about Tess…” But Joel shuts that down pretty quickly, he lifts his hand to stop her, “If I’m taking you with me, there’s some rules you gotta follow. Rule one, you don’t bring up Tess. Ever. Matter of fact, we can keep our histories to ourselves. Rule two, you don’t tell anyone about your… condition. They see that bite mark, they won’t think it through. They’ll just shoot you. Rule three, you do what I say when I say it.”
Joel looks at you pointedly, “Rule three applies to you too Hummin’ bird.” Your face scrunches up in annoyance and exclaim, “But I’m a grown adult!” Joel only lifts his eyebrows, “Do you know exactly what happens now from here on out? You ever lived in an apocalyptic world?” You move your eyes away from him and mumble defeatedly, “No, and just a few hunches and theories, I guess.” He harrumphs and looks at you and Ellie, “Are we clear?” He says. You both respond, “Yes.”Joel’s eyes narrow and says without smiling, “Repeat it.”
“What you say goes,” Ellie says and he looks to you for the same statement, “What you say goes, Cowboy.” He lets out a huff and shifts his weight to his other foot, “Okay,” he mumbles. The kid questions aloud, “So what now?” And Joel decides it’s time to start preparing, “We grab what we can.”
Loud footsteps are heard as the three of you descend the metal stairs, Joel flicks on a switch and the lights flicker open. The sound of the 80s playlist playing can be heard filling the room. Joel goes to pause it while Ellie takes a good walk around the bunker, and looks at the wall of guns, “Holy shit. This guy was a genius.” You laugh lightly at her comment, walk over to Joel’s side to look at the playlist and security cameras, saying “Well, under normal circumstances, this would be seen as paranoid.”
Ellie snorts in amusement and acknowledgment, she turns to Joel and asks, “Why was the music on?” Joel places his hands on the table and replies contemplatively, “If he doesn’t reset the countdown every few weeks, this playlist would run over the radio.” Ellie makes her way to the side of the monitor, she peeks at it and states, “‘80s.” He glances from behind him, not wanting to dwell on it any longer, and tells the kid, “Grab some cans from over there. Nothin’ dented or swollen.” She lingers a bit by the wall of guns on display and points at it saying, “Dude.” Only to be replied with Joel’s firm, “No.” Ellie exasperated, “There’s a wall of them.” He gives her one hard look and Ellie pinches her lips into a thin line, walking away to start grabbing the canned food.
Joel’s gaze turns to you, while you tilt your head to the side to look up at him, and you feel a question forming on the tip of your tongue, the way you hold your breath as you wonder if it’s even worth bringing up, you and him inches away from touching, lingering and wanting you to say something. Instead, you pull away from his malt-musing mountain gaze, away from the comfort of his warmth and inviting pull. Afraid of what this could mean, or the possibility you might wake up and find yourself alone again. To only find his ghost wandering in your kitchen, haunting you if this all turns out to be nothing.
“I’m gonna go, um, help Ellie.” You say pointing behind you with your thumb, and then stumble your way around the bunker to look for the young girl. He watches you leave his side, and if he could have one wish it would be to have more time. He’d like to stop the clock and make time stand still because this is just how he always wants to feel. To hear the way she stumbles when she answers, and just for a little bit, secretly, he forgets about his cynicism because he can't wait to see what happens next.
You three end up going through everything in Bill and Frank’s home. On the upper floor, you and Ellie look around the bedroom as Joel opens the door to a closet, pulls on the pull cord switch of the light, and grabs a box of women’s clothes in Ellie’s size and yours. You and her open the box and happily dig through the pile of clothes that had been left behind. Eventually, you settle on a basic white tee, a pair of cargo pants, new white socks, and a lovely maroon leather jacket.
All three of you decide to check on the battery, Joel turns the knob of the charger and grunts, “Needs another hour.” Ellie checks the faucet by the sink and turns it to the right and happy squeals, “They have hot water! I’m taking a shower.” She then looks to Joel who was busy sorting through the clutter, “And then you’re both showering. Because seriously…” And before walking away she makes a sound to signal you both that you reeked of sweat and more stench imaginable. She walks away to go back inside the house and leaves you both alone together.
Not knowing what to do or say, you give yourself a hug, arms folding in front of your middle, eyes darting to everything but him. Joel watches the way you shift around the bunker. He does not know what you are thinking, how you prefer your tea, if you take sugar in your coffee, or whether you like walking in the rain. He takes notice of the way you keep going just like he does, when you laugh it sounds like a melody he’s all too familiar with but there’s a different hidden note between each breath you take.
You are impossible. Impossible is admitting you came from a different universe, it’s also attempting to connect in this world, trying to hang on to others while everything around you is exploding. And yet you’re standing there in front of him, real and full of light. He does not want to believe it, he worries in his mind that he will destroy each and every part of you, engrossing darkness and bitterness he has accumulated for the past twenty years. Beginning on the day the world fell apart, when it took Sarah away from him. And the weight of the world was placed on his shoulders.
You begin to hum to yourself as you take a walk around the bunker and appreciate the lengths Bill went through to keep him and Frank safe. Joel finally gives in to the tug of war in his mind and asks, “What song were you hummin’ on the hike here, Birdie? I didn’t recognize the melody this time.” His question pulls your attention away from the wall of guns and you incline your head toward him, “Oh? Uh, just a song from my world, I guess…” He looks at you expectantly and you take it as a cue to continue, “It’s a song by Adele.” You said as you scrunched your nose a bit. A look of puzzlement crossed his face, “Who’s Adele?” he says. You slowly blink at him, “Damn, your world ended too soon and robbed you of Adele.”
The conversation continues on, it goes from books to favorite drinks, and bit by bit you’re beginning to piece together the man in front of you. It astounds you, how he kept going even when the world took away the people he loved. And later you hear Ellie yelling from the house, telling you both she’s done, you look to Joel and he tells you to use the shower first. You smile at him and give him a small thanks as you head up the stairs. The small talk you both had left him floating and hates that his mind continues to think about worse-case scenarios and look for emergency exits just in case. But is it courage or faith that he shows up every day? And maybe one day he won’t be afraid.
After the nice steaming hot shower, and changing into your new-ish clothes, you yell Joel’s name to tell him it’s his turn. He proceeds to go into the bathroom and you go downstairs to see Ellie messing with the piano keys, you gently tap her shoulder and she looks up at you with adorable eyes full of wonder, “Scoot over.” The kid moves and you sit down on the piano bench next to her, you mumble, “I’m surprised it’s still tuned after all these years.” Ellie’s ears perk up, “You know how to play?” and you tilt your head to the left, “Just enough to impress friends now and then.” She smiles, “Can you show me? Please?”
Your mouth pinches in thought, wondering which song you could play, “Hrm, I guess I could. But you might not recognize this piece of music since it was never released here.” She nods excitedly, “It’s no big deal. I need to hear you sing since you keep humming all the time.” You roll your eyes at that, “Okay, okay.”
You ready yourself, comfortably slouched, and your head down. Your fingers glide over the keys and you begin to sway as you play the starting notes of Adele’s ‘Make You Feel My Love’. “When the rain is blowing in your face. And the whole world is on your case. I could offer you a warm embrace. To make you feel my love,” You sang softly as your fingers continued to dance over the ivory keys, your spirit became virtually an allure with each small sway of your head and body. Joel silently walks down the stairs, enchanted and allured by your melodious voice. He leans on the frame of the foyer, slicked back salt and pepper hair, and currently has the softest eyes for you.
“The storms are raging on the rollin' sea. And on the highway of regret. The winds of change are blowing wild and free… You ain't seen nothing like me yet.” You sang and the buildup as it developed into a slow roll that shattered into the souls of everyone who listened like a tremendous tsunami. Joel and Ellie were entranced by the enticing music emanating from your voice, resulting in a tranquil silence. The lyrics soared and swelled from the depths of your spirit as if everyone in that room could sense your hope and affection. Your love became their love, and the audience and singer became one.
“I could make you happy, make your dreams come true… Nothing that I wouldn't do. Go to the ends of the earth for you, to make you feel my love. To make you feel my love.” You vocalized and slowly stopped playing on the ivory keys, letting out a sigh of relief you turn to Ellie who is in awe of your talent and skill. “Damn, I wish we could bring this with us.” She says and you throw your head back in laughter, your shoulder moving as you catch your breath, “Joel would break his back carrying this thing.”
“You callin’ me old, sweetheart?” Joel says smugly, you and Ellie swiftly turn to look behind you, to find him relaxed, happy, and all cleaned up. You can feel your body begin to burn in embarrassment and attraction to the pet name he called you. Including the fact, he’s pulling off the wet look pretty damn fucking well. Ellie saves you from having to explain yourself and comments on his appearance, “Well, don’t you look pretty.”
That brings him back to reality and begins to become grumpy old Joel once more, “Shut up.” He mutters and then tosses her a stick of deodorant which she catches. The kid looks at it and comments, “Nice,” then proceeds to get up from the bench with you following after the both of them.
You make your way to the blue Chevy S-10, Ellie goes to the front passenger seat but Joel clicks his tongue, “Go sit in the back, Ellie.” She groans and as she was about to walk to the back of the Chevy you shake your head, “It’s okay, you can take it for the meantime, I suspect you haven’t been in a car before.” And Ellie is practically vibrating with joy as she hops inside the car, Joel looks at you from the rearview mirror and you give a thumbs up while Ellie continues to explore parts of the car, “It’s like a spaceship,” she says and you hide a laugh while Joel mumbles, “It’s like a piece of shit Chevy S-10 but it’ll get us there.” And after a moment he adds, “I think.”
Joel begins to put on his seatbelt and he tells Ellie to do the same, but she only gives him a perplexed look, which he then shows her and she clicks it in place while smiling, “So cool.”
He turns the key and the engine rives to life, Ellie opens the glove compartment and finds a cassette tape, he glances at her, “Would you leave it?” Ellie gives him a cheeky grin to slide it into the radio. “Put it back. Ellie.” Joel states in a serious tone. Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Long Long Time’ begins to play, the first ever song you hummed a couple of days ago. You look out the window to the left, Joel and Ellie converse as you tune out the rest of the world, only listening to the music. You hear the buzzing of the gate open and Joel drives into the open road, and the lovely voice of Linda Ronstadt reminds you that love will transcend into every universe, and the thought of that lulls you to gently close your eyes and let yourself fall asleep.
Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter
End Notes: (Idk do people read this? Btw this is lengthy since lol almost 10k words o-o)
Yes, Type 9 is The Runner-away-er of Conflict… hecking I had this whole argument planned out at first, all the yelling and fighting between the reader and Joel and nearly going through with that concept, but in the end decided against it. Because to me, it felt too soon. It wouldn’t progress the story forward, it would have just taken twenty steps back lmao. Joel is the type to keep going, to keep moving cuz he has to. So him reminiscing would be out of character and the reader getting mad and confronting him wOULD ALSO BE OUT OF CHARACTER LMAO
Anyways, as you read, I ended up giving them a moment to mourn and talk it out, because I felt like you needed to hear those words too. Do not throw away your life just to make someone happy. That’s destructive.
I tried my best to write about grief this chapter, and had to rewatch Episode 3 to put myself through the torture again hooray! Towards the end, you can see my writing become somewhat poetic(?) but honest. I didn’t want to extremely exaggerate it but just enough to hopefully make u cry a bit. If you did cry pls tell me, it tells me that I wrote okay enough for you to cry)
But I also wanted it to give you some hope and to remind you that you are a light in many people's lives I promise.
Furthermore, I lowkey procrastinated on this chapter, I was hoping it would be out by Wednesday but the new Hogwarts Legacy game has me in a chokehold so I 1000% got distracted!
OFF TO EPISODE 4 I GOOOO I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING UR COMMENTS MWA ILY <3
-Grace
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#uneven odds joel miller#joel miller x reader series#joel miller x poc!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x modern reader#uneven odds#joel miller#joel miller x reader au#joel miller x reader tlou#joel miller x reader masterlist#tlou rewrite#tlou series#tlou#tlou remake#tlou hbo
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First time sub afab! Kazuha x GN Dom! Reader
A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. I actually had the visual for this when I was writing my main Kazuha piece, but in the end it didn't fit the pacing, so I'm repurposing it now. this one was quick, but hope you enjoy.
Warnings: nsfw, minors get out, fingering, oral (character receiving)
Wordcount: 1k
You wander the city the entire night with him, it’s summer so it's warm and the sky is hanging very low and black, stars bright and ripe like berries. You kiss him every time you get, until he’s disheveled and flushed, melting against you, eyes gleaming in the darkness. When you pull away, his fingers curl in the folds of your clothes, he looks up at you, biting his lips, swollen from the kisses, hips grinding against you, shy, but not ashamed. He has an understanding of what he wants, incredibly strong for someone so inexperienced, he could not be pressured by time or attention, only makes his move when it feels right. Like it finally does this night, with you.
“Not yet, baby,” you whisper, trail kisses down his arched neck.
“Why not?” he pouts, too sweet and sincere to be manipulative, and you have to fight an urge to take him right there, against the walls in this dirty alleyway, but he deserves better.
“Because I want to make your first time truly special.”
He gives you a small, wry smile. “Well, I’m not exactly a silk bed with rose petals kind of person.”
“I’d never offer you something so stuffy,” you catch his chin, run your thumb over his lower lip until he opens his mouth and takes you in, his scarlet eyes never leaving yours. “Trust me, my little wind, I know you.”
“What is the best place to meet the sunrise?” you ask him as the night is coming to an end and without a second thought he answers
“At the top of the old tower.”
“Let’s go then,” you grin, dragging him by the hand and he smiles, following.
The tower is a ruin left from the ancient defense walls and is of course closed, but Kazuha climbs the nearby tree and gets to the tower’s window through the long branch. As always, he is a treat to watch in motion, swift, decisive and precise. Like any wind, he resists being captured in a moment, each movement would not look too attractive if caught in a still picture, but together in real time they weave together with fluid grace.
He helps you to climb into the window, laughs when you pin him against the wall on the spiraling staircase. You kiss him until he’s flushed and panting, clothes in disarray.
“We’ll miss the dawn if we don’t go up now,” he whispers breathlessly, but doesn’t try to resist, his arms thrown around your neck.
“We won’t,” you kiss his neck, run your hands down his warm, pliant body. “How can the sun rise when I have all of the sunshine right there with me?”
He giggles adorably, squirming under your touch. He’s incredibly wound up after an entire night of teasing, desire is both a tight ball and fluttery wings deep in his belly. But he doesn’t mind waiting, his soaked cunt aches so sweetly, and he loves this dizzy haze, being carried helplessly and played by your will like a leaf in the wind, trusts that you won’t leave him unsatisfied by the end, and so it doesn’t matter when that moment comes.
You do not, in fact, miss the sunrise when you get to the top of the tower, but only barely. The sky is high and clear, deep blue in the west with the last stars and the narrow crescent of the moon still faintly glowing, and translucent gray and light blue at the east, an anticipation of the light. The city underneath the tower is still sleeping, the low ground streets drowning in cloudy mist, but the early birds nesting on the high roofs with reddish-purple shingles are already singing.
He looks at the east side, leaning on the stone parapet, when you catch his waist and decisively turn him around, kiss him while opening his clothes to bare his chest. He doesn’t try to stop you, just blushes brightly, looking up at you with wide opened eyes.
“Right… there?”
You smile, kiss him without answering, and he shivers when you slide his cloth down his shoulders. The morning chill mixes with his own feverish heat, and when you move your lips down his throat, tender juncture between the neck and shoulders, down to his chest, it feels like burning in contrast to the fresh air. You throw your jacket on the wide ledge of the parapet, and he gasps when you push him up on it. You suck on the hard pink bud of his nipple as you take off his pants, but then you straighten up, look down on him. You want to see him fully when you spread his legs, his lips swollen from kisses, neck covered in lovebites, he’s panting hard, blushing brilliantly, but looking you in the eye eagerly, his flushed pink cunt open to your view.
You slide a finger into his wet entrance and watch him moan, grip at the iron lattice on top of the stone ledge. You peper him with kisses until covering his clit with your mouth, and he shudders, gasping. You grin against the tender, slick skin of his pussy, suck on his clit and move your finger inside of him so torturously slow. His cunt clenches and he whines so sweetly, leaning back on the iron, feeling both exposed to the whole world and hidden from everything but you.
You ease another finger in and start pumping them in and out, at first slowly, then increasing the speed. His trembling legs rise up involuntarily, bending at the knees and pressed to his chest to expose his pulsing pussy even more and thrust against your movements. Overwhelmed, he arches, gasping with an open mouth, the edges of the iron lattice digging into his shoulderblades. When you curl your fingers inside of him, your lips on his swollen clit, he comes with a choked helpless moan, his head thrown back, and he sees the first golden light of dawn spread over the blue-gray skies above him while the wave of pleasure that consumes his own body.
You look up and see the tender, lemony yellow sunrays spill over his pale arched body, soft and flushed in contrast to the crumbling rocks and iron, his whimpers mixing with the bird songs. You straighten up and catch his mouth, your fingers still buried deep inside his wet, pulsing cunt, and his legs wrap around you, his mouth opening for you to slide your tongue in.
“I promised you something special, didn’t I?”
#rhine writes filth#rhine writes#sub genshin#sub kazuha#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#dom reader#sub character#kazuha
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Omg now I want to see Soap begging Moon to marry him. Can Goose or someone have a Wild West fever dream so we can see all of those scenarios happen??
“When’re you gonna let me make an honest woman out of you?” Soap leans over the bar, broad shoulders hiked next to his ears as he settles on his elbows. You pour a shot of whiskey for him and try not to hit him with the bottle.
“When’re you gonna pay your tab?” You don’t really mind Soap, but it’s rather annoying that he won’t leave you alone. You’re not sure why he’s so set on you. Man like him could have anyone he wanted, half the women in town are clamoring for him, and the other half are married so they’re stuck pining.
“I always pay my tab,” He smiles. You narrow your eyes at him. He does. He closes out every time he leaves. That’s another annoying thing about him, he’s a good man.
“Then you’ve got no reason to keep comin’ around.” You tell him and turn to help the other patrons at the bar. You’ll get Soap some lunch later, let him sweat with his alcohol for a minute. Can’t have him thinkin’ you like him.
-
“You’re late,” You pull a clean glass and pour a healthy serving of whiskey in it before sliding it to Soap.
“Was pickin’ out wedding rings,” He tells you, taking the glass between his fingers. You can see the dirt under his nails, but his hands are clean. You wonder if he wiped them off before he came to see you.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” You ask, and even though you know he’s only joking your stomach still clenches uncomfortably at the thought Soap might have someone waiting on him.
“Hopin’ it’s you.” He says tipping his head back to swallow the whiskey neat. You watch the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. Soap licks the last drop of whiskey off his lips as he sets his glass down, and you do your best not to watch the path of his pink tongue.
“You better watch out, someday someone’s gonna think you’re serious,” You pour him a second without being asked and go to collect empty glasses before he can tease you further.
-
Soap crowds you against the door to the store room, holding it closed as you try to keep the heat off your cheeks. You’re too used to having the bar between you, a solid barrier keeping him at arm's length. You scowl at him. His lovesick smile makes your stomach flip. You wonder if he’s sick in the head to keep chasing after you. How have you not managed to scare him off yet?
You do your best to keep up a glare, even under Soap’s studying glances. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. He really must be mad.
“Do I make you nervous, Hen?” He asks. You feel your brows twitch down a little more.
“Why would you make me nervous?” You aren’t nervous. Your heart must be beating that quickly for some other reason. Soap hums, raises a hand to caress your cheek, his touch soft and clean. His hand is cool against the heat of your skin.
He kisses you before you can push him away. His lips pressing firm against yours make you melt a little. He cups your face so gently, like you’re something to be treasured, something delicate that he has to be careful with. It’s a far cry from your rough exterior, but you almost…like it. It’s especially pleasant when his lips part to kiss you again, hardly bothered whether or not you’re kissing him back. You haven’t pushed him away, and that matters far more. It doesn’t take more than a second of coaxing for you to grip his shirt and kiss him.
Pressed against the door isn’t the worst place to be when Soap is the one pressing you against it. His body is firm and warm, his fingers tilting your head to let him kiss you at a comfortable angle. He tips his own head to catch the corner of your lips, your jaw, your neck just over where your pulse hammers. You wonder if he can feel it, if he can hear the soft sigh that escapes your lips when he does. He kisses you properly a final time before he pulls back.
Still so close, his thumb swipes against your lower lip. You can’t seem to make up your mind on what you’re supposed to do now. You feel like the whole world has turned pink at the edges.
“Marry me,” He whispers and you feel your heart clench so severely it makes your breath skip. Your lip wobbles a little. You’re supposed to be stronger than this.
“No,” You tell him with as much resolve as you can manage. You expect him to frown, or tease you more, but his smile only grows.
You’ve never given him an answer when he’s asked, only ever redirected the conversation or made a joke in response. (The jokes were the worst, always on the wrong side of self deprecating, Soap thought those hurt more than a rejection) To get an actual response out of you? An acknowledgement of the sincerity behind the question? Well, some ‘no’s are worth a thousand ‘yes’s.
#1870s!cowboy#cowboy!Soap#oc: moon#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap x oc#I assume soap is a ranch hand or a stable hand#he works hard and gets dirty but he always makes sure his hands are clean when he sees Moon#don't wanna accidentally dirty her up if he gets the chance to touch her#I think he got tired of waiting for her to realize he wasn't joking#gotta prove he's serious about her somehow#how did he fall for Moon and why is he chasing after her? who knows#I knows#I think he had to deliver something to her early one morning and spotted her in her pjs#and thought “I wanna wake up next to her”#and it was all downhill from there
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I See Hell in Your Eyes
Chapter Seven
“Our hearts are wrong.”
Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader
Authors Note: A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!! So sorry for the delays y’all working retail around the holidays is absolute Hell. Enjoy this little chapter before we begin the new year with the *real* plot of this little universe. Buckle up.
Word Count: 4778
Warnings: Violence, death, mentions of past abuse (but it is very brief and not dwelled on), SMUT at the end but nothing too graphic or crazy.
The emotions you felt as Josh drove the both of you to the location Jake texted him were conflicting. Part of you was annoyed that you didn’t get to curl up in your bed with your hunter after that shower, another part of you loved how cozy you felt in his car; hand secured on your thigh. But another part of you, the loudest part, was reminding you of your reality. If Jake was telling the truth, and he indeed caught whomever in the act, that would mean Josh would be one step closer in closing his case. The hypotheticals of what would happen after that case was closed taunted you. The only reason he showed up in your city was to find the Vampire in question and get rid of them. Once that happened, there would be nothing tying him to the city anymore. He could pack all of his things in the very Jeep you were sitting in, and drive back west with his family. He could go back to his everyday life, get assigned another “job” and take off for the next adventure.
But what about you?
Josh could feel the muscles in your thigh tensing as you battled your own thoughts, and his thumb rubbed circles into your skin. He glanced over at you curiously, wishing he could know what you were thinking. You were absently staring out the window, brows furrowing every other minute as if you were arguing with yourself. He too, was a little miffed your little rendezvous at your apartment was cut short due to his twin.
“Hey,” he broke the silence, his voice soft, “where do you keep going, over there?”
You shook your head slightly, braving a smile at him, “nowhere…just tired.”
He wasn’t fully convinced, but didn’t want to argue, “well, after we finish seeing Jake’s little show-and-tell we can go back to your place and you can show me how cozy that bed nook of yours is before sunrise…”
Your mouth tilted up into a smirk, “are you becoming nocturnal for me, Boy Scout?”
This caught him off guard, was he? He let out a breath through his nose and disguised it with a chuckle. He squeezed your thigh again, smiling as he felt the muscles in your leg relax.
It didn’t take long to reach the street corner Jake had texted Josh; a narrow side street with one way traffic. You looked around to see how many people were on the street, and were relieved when it was practically deserted at this time of night. As Josh parked next to the curb, a very impatient looking Jake stepped out from an alley between the two main buildings on the block.
“Took you long enough,” he said, rolling his eyes as you exited the vehicle.
“We’re here, aren’t we?”
Jake opened his mouth to argue more, but stopped and huffed out, “just…come on.” He turned on his heel to lead the two of you back into the alley he had just come from. It was fairly empty as far as alley’s go, but what hit you as you followed Jake was the smell of human blood. The scent was so strong you quickly pinpointed it to be O Positive, and that there was a lot of it. Your gums itched at the smell, and you were thankful you had topped yourself off with a blood bag before you left your apartment. Josh had volunteered to help you, but you refused as you still felt it was too soon since the incident at the Den.
The scene that unfolded before you, as Jake led you further down the alley, shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did, but it stopped you in your tracks. Leaning up against the brick wall was a man appearing to be in his forties, maybe late thirties, with a substantial wound on the side of his neck. Blood was pouring out of him quickly, staining his clothes and starting to puddle next to him. CiCi was crouched down next to him, mumbling what you thought were spells under her breath, trying to heal him. The man didn’t have much time at all, but the only thing to give him a chance was if he drank some of your blood.
Shaking off your nerves, and trying to control how you felt around that much blood, you quickly moved around Jake and crouched down on the other side of him. With a brief look at your hunter, you bit down onto the flesh of your wrist, breaking the skin over the veins and tendons. CiCi backed out of the way, realizing what you were doing. Quickly but gently you took the man's jaw into your hand and pried his mouth open. He was barely conscious, but he was able to barely open his eyes in confusion.
“Trust me you’ll thank me later,” you explained as you curled your hand into a fist, allowing the blood to drip from your wrist into his mouth. The man tried to fight it at first but as soon as the coppery liquid hit his tongue, he lifted his mouth higher to get closer to you. It was a little known secret that Vampire blood was a delicacy among humans. Not only for its healing properties, but because it was the downer of all downers. Supposedly it put humans into such a relaxed state, time would almost slow down for them. Because of this, it was highly addictive, but you didn’t have much of a choice.
“What happened?” Josh questioned.
“We were walking back to the car from-” Jake started, but Josh cut him off.
“Please tell me he took you to dinner,” he gave a pointed look at CiCi.
The witch gave the older twin an exasperated look, “yes he did. It was lovely.”
You were still giving the man blood but you were curious, “where did you go?”
“That little Italian restaurant around the corner? ‘Casa Oliva’?”
Your eyebrows shot up, “oh I’ve heard good things about that place!”
“Can we focus here?” Jake interjected.
You turned back to the man, seeing that your blood was slowly working to heal his gaping wound. The man started to stir as he healed and you kept your other hand on his shoulder to keep him still. The last thing you needed was for him to bolt without getting Persuaded to forget any of this happened. As soon as his neck fully closed, you took your wrist away from his mouth and let it heal itself at your side.
Looking him in the eyes, your Persuasion dripped from your voice, “tell me what happened.”
He focused entirely on you as he spoke, “I was walking home…and I kept feeling like I was being followed, but every time I turned around no one was there. The next thing I knew, I was dragged back here and he was…biting me…she tried to get him off of me but…,” the man's voice gave out slightly.
“What did they look like?”
“Young…I think…it was pretty dark? She kept telling him he was taking too much, too fast, but he wasn’t listening.”
You nodded and looked back at Jake and Josh over your shoulder. Before you could voice your assumptions, an old friend's familiar pleading echoed in the alley.
“Ethan no, we have to go home, I have bags for you there,” the sound of heels scraping on pavement was harsh, and clear she was trying to hold him back. It was just what you feared, and suspected. But you needed to get this human out of harm's way.
You locked eyes with him again, “go home and forget any of this happened. Don’t question the blood on your clothes, just throw them out. Nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight.” The man looked a little dazed but nodded, and you helped him up quickly. He stumbled slightly as he exited the alley, but you were sure he’d be ok the closer he got to his home.
Jake looked at you skeptically, “that's it?”
“Trust me he’ll be-”
Before you could finish, the lumbering steps of Ethan got even closer to the group, and you squared your shoulders in preparation. He emerged from the other end of the alley, with a frantic Monica trying her best to pull him in the other direction. His mouth and neck were covered in blood, and showed just how ravenous he had been while feeding. Behind you, Jake pulled out two stakes out of his inner jacket pocket, quickly handing one to his twin. CiCi stood up from her crouched position and took her place next to Jake.
Monica recognized you instantly and the relief on her face was evident even from a distance, “it's ok! I’m just taking him home!”
Ethan looked down at the ground where the human once was and his features twisted angrily at you, “what did you do?”
You scoffed, “I would ask you the same question but its all over your fucking neck and clothes.”
“I wasn’t done with him.”
Monica tugged even harder on his arm, her own Vampiric strength failing her against him, “yes you were and we were going home…”
“Enough,” he shouted and pushed her off of him, sending her backwards a few feet. He turned back and saw Josh behind you, his eyes shining with curiosity, “I guess it's ok…he’ll do...”
“The fuck you will,” knowing exactly what he was wanting to do, you met him halfway and tried to shove him against the brick wall closest to you. Your age worked in your favor, as being over three centuries older than Ethan meant you were far stronger than him. But true bloodlust is a powerful thing, and it was obvious that was Ethan’s problem. He shoved you off of him, sending you to the ground, before running right for Josh. He tackled him to the ground quickly, happening way too fast for anyone else to properly react.
Josh was using all the strength he had to keep Ethan from nipping at his neck, and he tried to roll him over to gain control but was unsuccessful. He managed to wedge the hand that was holding the stake flat against his own chest, using Ethan’s distracted state to his advantage. With one last forceful push, the hunter was able to flip the stake up and directly into the center of Ethans chest. A shocked look overcame the Vampire’s features, and the familiar yellow tinge invaded the white of his eyes, and his skin turned an ashy gray. Ethan’s death rattle wasn’t any different from the other Vampire’s Josh had slain, but part of him couldn’t help but feel sorry for the bastard. Once he was fully limp Josh shoved him off of him, dusting himself off.
You breezed past the dead Vampire and instantly had your hunter’s face in your hands, checking all over for any scratches or injuries. His neck was unharmed, which flooded your body with relief that Ethan never actually sank his teeth in him. Josh’s expression was calm in a way you had never seen before, as if what just happened didn’t phase him.
“I’m fine, sweetheart, I’ve been through worse,” he whispered to you as his hands slid around and under your shirt, feeling the skin of your lower back. The implication of his words didn’t exactly comfort you, but you were glad that he seemed alright as your thumbs gently rubbed circles on the hinges of his jaw.
Jake looked at the two of you, not knowing how to feel watching a Vampire comforting his twin after another one had just tried to kill him. Josh was right, they had faced far more in their lives, but he still didn’t like how close that was.
A distraught Monica scrambled over to her lover’s corpse. Clutching his shirt and sobbing into his impaled chest. She looked up and over at you and Josh, eyes red with tears, “you…your Human Companion was a fucking hunter?”
You whipped your head around at her, “Monica I-”
“They’d have you Meet the Sun for that, you know that right?” She sniffed, tone flat and emotionless. “Leading one of them into a Den, and letting him kill one of us?”
You shook your head, “Ethan was dangerous, Monica and you kn-”
“HE DIDN’T HAVE TO KILL HIM!” she shrieked, letting go of his shirt.
“He didn’t have a choice, he was out of control,” you reasoned.
Monica wasn’t having it, and before any of you could react she lunged at Josh herself, but this time it was Jake that got between them first. It was almost graceful in the way he stepped between them, stake in hand and pointed at Monica. She was so overcome with rage she wasn’t paying attention, and quite literally ran into the stake herself, the wood plunging into her chest easily. Her shocked gasp was the last noise she made before crumbling to the ground.
Your eyes burned, hating that it ended this way. Monica’s biggest crime was being so lonely she turned the first person who gave her an ounce of attention. But Vampires like Ethan aren’t meant to exist. They’re not built for this life. This was why Dimitri was so selective in who got turned.
“We umm…we need to get rid of their bodies…,” you wobbled out.
“The sun will be up soon, I can take them out of town to burn,” Jake suggested.
Josh nodded in agreement, “need some help?”
Jake looked down at his watch and shook his head, “no we can handle it. The sun will be up in a couple hours, wouldn’t want you out too late…”
Josh opened his mouth to make a smart ass reply, but CiCi reached out and touched his arm, “it's fine, I promise.”
You gave one last look at Monica’s corpse before following Josh out of the alley, wanting to get back to your place as soon as possible.
~!~
You didn’t fully relax until the door to your apartment was firmly locked shut. Josh followed you into your living room as you collapsed onto your couch, worried about how quiet you had been since the alley. He sat down next to you and gathered you in his arms, feeling a little out of his depth with what had just happened. He always prided himself in his emotional intelligence, but there were layers to this situation that he, as a human, didn’t fully understand.
As soon as you felt his strong arms wrap around your shoulders, you buried your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. His entire presence was a comfort to you now, a plot twist you never saw coming.
“I’m sorry about Monica…I know she was your friend…,” he said carefully.
You sniffed sadly, “she should’ve known better…she was over one hundred years old. But it's always a gamble when you turn someone. Not every human can handle a second life. There’s a reason we’re so selective in who we turn. Vampire’s like Ethan aren’t an isolated incident, as you, a hunter, would know. Anyone who comes out of the first decade of being a Vampire, even partially well adjusted, is lucky, honestly.” He nodded, gently resting his cheek on the top of your head. “Looking back, it’s amazing I even survived those first few years…”
“Was it that bad,” he asked softly.
“My Maker wasn’t…he was hands-on in all the wrong ways,” your voice sounded far off, as if you were drifting back into memories you weren’t fond of. Josh’s entire body stiffened at the implication, and heat started radiating from his hands, causing you to sit up quickly, “no…not like that…it’s just, he didn’t actually teach me how to be a Vampire. He’d parade me around, showing me how to find humans, how to manipulate them into feeding on them, but that was it. He didn’t teach me control, in fact he wasn’t interested in that at all. He liked things…messy, and when you’re that young and new, you don’t know any better. It’s so easy to get swept up into the “cool” parts of Vampirism that you fail to think about the less than glamorous parts. The shitty thing is, Ethan had a Maker who wanted to show him all the right things, how to live properly, how to blend in with society…but he just wasn’t cut out for any of it.”
He hated the way your eyes looked so sad and distant, with tears threatening to bubble up at any moment. His mind revisited his plans to find your Maker and force him to Meet the Sun himself, but he shook the thoughts away and focused entirely on you. In the time he had known you, you had never looked small in your body language. You always had a presence about you that filled an entire room, with a smile to match. But now? Now you looked tiny on your couch, head hung low as you rubbed your nose, feet tucked underneath you. It struck him that you hadn’t even called him Boy Scout in hours. He glanced up at the clock you had hanging on the wall, noting the time.
Softly, he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before offering, “hey, how much blood did you give that man?”
You leaned into his touch and shrugged, “I’m not sure I was just focusing on closing that wound in his neck. Why?”
His expression softened, “Just…do you need a pick-me-up after that? How does blood loss affect Vampires?”
Your eyes met his, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable under his gaze, “I heal pretty fast.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Your lower lip disappeared between your teeth, and you remembered that the one bag you had downed before going back out had been the last bag in your fridge. Your hunter's heartbeat was growing louder in your head, and your gums started to itch. But no, it still felt too soon since the Den. Human fragility was the least of your concern, but when it came to the brown eyed man sitting on your couch, you couldn’t help but keep it in the back of your mind at all times.
Shaking your head, “it's still too soon, I’ll be alright until tomorrow-”
“I’m a lot tougher than you think, Sweetheart.”
You stared at him, eyes looking him up and down, mulling it over. He was right, he was tougher than he let on, but you were just scared of hurting him.
“Fine. But not a lot,” you relented shifting on the couch.
He smiled at you, already anticipating the feeling of your fangs buried in his skin. Your own expression brightened as he pulled you into his lap. You adjusted your position until you were firmly straddling him, and he reached up and grazed his thumb against the side of your mouth.
“Take what you need,” he all but whispered. The way he spoke to you sent chills down your spine, and caused your eyes to darken. Instinctively you leaned forward and nuzzled his neck, the scent of his gorgeous blood overwhelming your senses. You planted an open mouthed kiss on his neck, feeling his pulse underneath your lips. He shivered slightly underneath you, his hands flexing against your hips. You stilled, your breath fanning against his skin. He gave you one more squeeze before his thumbs started rubbing circles into your skin, letting you know he was ready. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fangs extended from your gums and locked into place. Unable to hold back any longer you surged forward, piercing his skin in expertise. A moan rattled out of his mouth, and he threw his head back as best he could. You smiled against his skin as you took your first pull. This time both of you moaned as his blood flooded your mouth. That citrusy tang hit your tongue first, then the vanilla snuck in, nearly taking over. There was something so bright about his blood, a flavor profile that was so uniquely him. It took all of your self control to not gulp him down.
He was practically writhing underneath you, loving every second of it. Any pain from the bite was eclipsed by the sheer pleasure that coursed through his system. He pulled you down harder onto his lap, desperate for some kind of friction. He didn’t care how needy he acted or sounded, if you were the cause he couldn’t help it. The feeling was heightened when he felt some stray blood trail down his neck. He could never get enough of his Vampire.
~!~
Twenty miles north, give or take, a hunter and his Witch were placing the bodies of two dead Vampires in a shallow pit he had dug minutes prior. The sky was getting lighter and lighter as the sun raced to the horizon, and their task of disposing of the bodies would be complete. Jake had been silent for most of the trip, trying to digest the absolute shit show the last two days had been for him.
CiCi knew what was bothering him, and carefully said, “stop over thinking, he was fine.”
He turned to her, “this time. He doesn’t realize just how vulnerable he is walking around like her glorified juice box.”
“It’s a lot more between them and you know it.” Jake scoffed and tried to turn back to the horizon, but CiCi’s hand caught his chin and turned him back to her, “you can’t deny how he was looking at her the entire time.”
“That’s what scares me. I know him, he never does anything halfway, I can tell he’s all in on…whatever they have…and I also know that it’ll be me to pick up the pieces should it blow up in his face,” his eyes burned into hers.
“He could probably say the same thing about you, my love.”
“You’re not-”
“...exactly human either, am I? I still haven’t met your parents because of it.”
“I just don’t see how it's going to work for them. She seems…alright but I don’t trust her.”
“Maybe this means you’re going to have to trust Josh. He didn’t even hesitate to put down that one,” she gestured to the corpse in the pit before her.
Before Jake could counter, the sun breached the horizon, its golden rays spreading across the field. Within minutes, the two corpses were engulfed in flames, the putrid smell filling the air. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, and pulled out a small cigar. It was a habit he started years ago, when he and Josh started going out on their own to hunt. He crouched down in front of the flames, leaning forward to light it before standing back up wrapping his arm around his Witch’s waist.
“It's so morbid that you do that.”
“You like it though,” he said, smirking at her.
She tried glaring at him, but her own muscles failed her as a smile slowly spread across her face. It didn’t take long for the bodies to be turned into ashes, and the two of them filled the pit back in to leave no trace. In Jake’s mind, the one good thing about Vampires was how easy it was to dispose of them. As long as you had the sun, the rest was easy. The sun was a hunter’s best friend, and one of the few constants Jake could rely on.
~!~
But as the trail of clothes leading to your bedroom suggested, your own hunter’s feelings towards the sun weren’t the same anymore. The two of you were safely tucked into your bed nook, curtains tightly shut and the wall sconces inside were turned on, giving a warm glow to the little nest. He had you underneath him, slowly and deeply pistoning his hips into yours. He was leaning on one elbow next to your head, while the other hand was tucked under your ass, gripping your cheek to get you as close to him as possible. His lips never left your skin, peppering kisses all over your face and neck, occasionally nipping at your flesh with his teeth. Your own arms were wrapped around his back, digging your nails into his muscles whenever he’d hit a particular spot deep inside you. This time with him was different. It was slower, more relaxed, as if he wanted to make a point to take his time with you.
A lot was weighing on his mind but he didn’t want you to pick up on it. The case he had been working on the last few months was officially closed, and therefore his initial reason for even being in your city was over with. Now that he had you, he didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t know how to break it to Jake. He wasn’t going to ask you to uproot your life and go back with him, especially now that he knew just how much you loved it here. But right now, he was shoving all those thoughts into a corner of his mind so he could properly focus on you. He was committing every sigh, moan, and cry of his name to memory. The way the slick heat of your walls gripped him, how your ankles locked together perfectly on his back, the way your hands gripped his hair as your lips devoured him. All of it was finding a permanent place in his brain.
You were doing much of the same, mesmerized by your lover above you. The birds and ambient street noise was filtering into your room as the world woke up. But the light from your wall sconces were casting a warm glow around Josh, nearly giving him a halo of light. It was rare that you genuinely missed the sun itself, as you had a difficult relationship with the wretched thing. But being wrapped up with Josh was probably the closest you had ever been to gentle daylight in the three centuries you had been alive.
His brows furrowed together in concern when he saw your eyes well up with stubborn tears, “you ok?”
You sniffed, willing your tears to stay in your eyes, “never better, Boy Scout.”
He smiled and captured your lips with his, speeding up his movements. It wasn’t long before you were both crying out, reaching your highs together.
Before you could even think about getting up, Josh was slowly detangling his limbs from yours to carefully pull back the curtain to gauge where the sun was in your room. Thankfully your nook was positioned in a way that kept it out of direct light, but he still barely gave himself enough room to slide out of bed and quickly shut the curtain behind him. You giggled at his attentiveness and listened to his footsteps sprint around the room as he shut your other curtains, blocking out the sun. The curtain to your bed slowly opened, revealing your smirking hunter.
After round two in the shower, you were back in your bed cuddled up with Josh. Sleep overtook you both, and the rest of the day was spent wrapped up in each other’s arms.
However, the peaceful slumber was interrupted by someone pounding on your door. Groggily you sat up at the sound, and looked at the time on your phone and the weather widget on the home screen. A low temperature and a crescent moon greeted you, letting you know the sun was fully down and it was safe.
Josh stirred behind you, “what’s going on…?”
“I don’t know…wait here.” You threw open the curtain as the pounding happened again, this time a little louder. Quickly you grabbed some clothes from your drawer across the room and dressed as you made your way down the hall.
Not being satisfied with how you answered that, Josh dressed himself as well and followed you to the door. You peered through the peephole before letting out a shaky breath and opening the door.
Two men in black suits were standing on the other side, sternly staring at you both.
In a cool voice, one of them said, “Mr. Nikolou requests your presence at his manor this evening, and he apologizes for the sudden call. He also wanted to inform you that this matter was very urgent, and that he would have a driver ready for you.”
“Sweetheart…what is it?”
The fear and anxiety bubbled up in your throat as you turned around to Josh, “Dimitri wants to see us…”
To be continued…
Tag List: @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting
#josh kiszka#josh kiszka x reader#josh gvf#greta van fleet#I see hell in your eyes#enemies to lovers#slow burn#my fics#🩸🖤
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“I’m loving the energy created in the studio tonight.”: A threesome with Hongjoong and San oneshot
This gif is how I’m picturing them in this oneshot
Pairing- San x Hongjoong x Reader
Genre- smut,threesome, fem!reader, established relationship with San, competition, dominant Hongjoong, San just existing
Warning-smut, threesome, unprotected sex
Word count-3,204
Summary-You and your boyfriend,San, sneak into Hongjoong’s studio for some much needed fun but things take a turn.
You stared at the text on your phone from San. Reading it the whole time you took the cab over, went up the elevator and now sat in the room you were asked to come to. Your hands were shaking.
“Meet me in Hongjoong’s personal recording studio. 10 pm. After dance practice.”
You frequented the training building where they rented a whole floor for their personal use so knew your way around it and even had a key card. They had upgraded significantly since growing big in the west. It had been almost three months since you last saw your boyfriend San. World tours would do that.
When you sneaked down the hallway past the dance practice room your eyes locked with Hongjoong. He was busy reprimanding the other members while they all panted heavily. His intense gaze reminded you of a tiger about to sink its teeth in its prey. You watched as he pulled his white shirt up to wipe sweat from his bare face while he still kept his beastly gaze locked on you. Your legs shot to action as you rounded the corner quickly; thankfully the studio was unlocked and you hid on the black leather couch in the dark. Your heart was still pounding. You remembered that San informed you long ago that there were many things the leader was territorial of, but the number one was his studio.
“San what the fuck are you up to? Trying to get us killed.” You whisper shouted to yourself.
You watched the clock on your Home Screen intently as it grew closer to the given time. You could hear the door to the practice room open and the male voices laughing and talking. One you could pick out distinctly.
“I’ll pass on drinks guys. I’m going to get some stuff I left in one of the rooms. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Blood pounded in your ears.
He managed to pull this off.
The door clicked open.
You watched with the light from the computer monitors as San closed the door and made his way towards you. He had his black hoodie pulled up covering his dark messy hair. His gray sweatpants were enough to make your mouth start salivating.
San sighed in relief and turned towards you. You missed that handsome face.
“God I missed you.” San said softly as he looked at you as he eagerly made his way next to you on the couch.
You smile as you watch his eyes narrow as he approaches your open legs. “I just can’t wait. I have to have you now.” He breathes into your ear.
San wasted no time in popping the button of your jeans, you watch as his thumb leaves the button to run across the bottom of his lip. A Cheshire grin fixated on his face.
“I really missed you.”
He nods to your pants as you push them down to expose your black lace panties you picked especially with this occasion in mind. You pull them off along with your black boots. He brings his hands forward and pulls up the thick sweater you opted for and pulls it over your head, throwing it to the wayside. San groans.
“You’re all I could focus on today during practice. Think you could show me what I’ve missed?” You bite your lip and nod immediately. You climb onto San’s lap and drape your arms around his neck. He tightly holds your waist as you begin to grind on his thick thigh. Your core tingling against his sweatpants.
San leans forward and kisses your lips roughly letting you know what kind of thoughts he had been having for months. You begin to move faster and he groans in approval at your action.
You moan at his sound and push yourself harder against him. You let your head roll and you arch your back as you moan into the room. Your needy hips moving against his leg quickly.
San moves his hands up your back and brings his head to your chest. You grip onto San’s black sweatshirt as you rock harder onto his thigh. “Just like that.” His voice was low with attraction as he gently massaged one of your breasts through the matching black lace bra. You pulled on his shoulder as you pushed your heat down into his sweats. You wished you had the chance to take off your panties with your pants but your eagerness didn’t think that ahead.
San groans at your sudden aggression and brings his hand to your waist softly. You slow down just a bit on his thigh and use the time to breathe a little.
Suddenly, you hear the door to the studio open. A familiar laugh that echoed soon after.
You watch San’s face as his eyes widen in astonishment. You turn rapidly and lock eyes with Hongjoong, smiling.
Hongjoong sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy fawn colored hair. He leaned against one of the desks and raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t stop on my account. I mean you both decided that my studio would be great for fucking, I’ve been in need of some entertainment.”
Your thighs still worked around San as your arms began to sting a bit.
“San, you better put in more effort with her than you did earlier at practice.”
San playfully laughs through his nose at this dig. You watch as Hongjoong moves closer, the appeal of him making your cheeks burn.
You feel his presence behind you, towering.
“I didn’t miss the good part yet, did I?”asks Hongjoong as he presses his lips into your shoulder and then immediately starts working his way up to your neck.
“Not yet.” You mewl as you started to move harder on San’s thigh. The sensations of them both being here. Both, touching you. It was enough to send you into overdrive.
San groans as you bite your lip and then looks at Hongjoong, who is now sucking a spot into your skin with a very sensual moan.
“Y/N, how about we play a game?” San’s eyes flicker between you and Hongjoong. “You tell me who fucks you better; me or Hongjoong. Since he thinks being the captain means he’s superior at everything.” San smiles devilishly in a way you can’t resist. “He can go first.” Without words, you dismount San and shift onto the leather couch. San eagerly takes a seat in one of the desk chairs, adjusting his clear hardness in his sweats and you watch as Hongjoong approaches you, his eyes dark and full of desire. His shoulders rounded and his bottom full lip entered between his teeth. His hand comes out and you fall into the couch. You didn’t even have the chance to breathe in new air to your lungs before Hongjoong had crawled up your body and his lips were on yours.
You moaned on his lips and inhaled some of the excess air from his mouth. His hand found your breasts, pushing down your bra to expose them fully. You gasp on his lips as his fingers twist one of your nipples. You bite at Hongjoong’s bottom lip and he groans.
Your hands moved to get him out of his white shirt and he pulled away from your make out session to take his shirt off before hungrily returning to your lips with an impatient groan.
Hongjoong kisses down your neck and you turn your head to give him room. You caught San’s eyes. He was bouncing his leg impatiently as he watched Hongjoong kiss you.
You moan at the feeling of hongjoong’s lips leaving so many marks on your collarbones and neck. Your legs pushed up against his dark pants for any kind of friction they could get.
Hongjoong sat up and brought his hands to your bra. His hands gripped the fabric before he yanked it off.You yelped softly as the fabric pulled against your skin, exposing you to the two men. They both groaned at your bare nipples and black panties.
“This is much better now.” He answered as he brought his lips to your flesh.
San gripped the armrest of the chair and his eyes went wild as you brought your hands to Hongjoong’s hair.
Your hips pushed up against him as you mewled little breaths and hums into the room. Hongjoong marked your breasts and stomach as you ground your hips up on him. You pulled on his hair and pushed his lips down to your panties.
It was hard to get Hongjoong to move once he had found something he wanted to do but you were needy. You didn’t want to be teased with marks. You wanted more. Needed more.
He hummed on your panties and you arched your back at the rippling pleasure that crashed into your body.
“Fuck.” San groans as Hongjoong removes your panties and blows on your slit causing you to moan.
You wrap your legs around Hongjoong’s shoulders as he licks his lips and then up your core. Your hands pull his hair and then push him into your entrance as Hongjoong holds your thighs open to eat you clean.
He licks up and down and kisses your folds. His tongue coming out to play with your clit.
“Hongjoong.” You praise as your body accepts the pleasure from his strong tongue and soft lips.
Your body reached for its orgasm and you closed your eyes tight as you felt it coming to you. Suddenly, your head and body fills with rejection as hongjoong parts from you.
You watch him as your thighs push together in hopes to find what you had lost. Hongjoong’s hands slowly come to his pants and your eager body couldn’t just watch him.
You hurry to the edge of the couch to help him with his pants. A frustrated sigh leaves you from the difficulty of how hard he was but you managed to get them off along with his underwear.
His hard cock was right in front of your face. You lick your lips. You could feel the heat from it on your lips without even touching him. You swallow hard and look up at Hongjoong. He had placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Do you want to suck me?” He asked.
You nod at the thought and he smiles. Hongjoong holds his base as you carefully wrap your lips around his tip.
“Fuck.” Hongjoong groans as you pull away his hand so you could take all of him.
His size burned your throat and sprung water into your eyes but you didn’t care. The groans and moans of your name were all worth it.
Hongjoong held your shoulders and rubbed your back and hair as you took him again and again. You felt your gag and pulled up to just his tip as you brought your hand to pump the warm flesh you couldn’t take.
“Damn.” Hongjoong said as he gently pushed your shoulders back and took you away from his cock.
You hummed as you looked up at him and he moved the hair out of your face as you cleaned up your lips.
“Get on the couch for me.” He ordered softly.
You bite your lip and do as you were told. You crawled back into the center of the couch, Hongjoong biting his lip as he watched you.
“Now. Turn over on your knees.” His voice was reserved and fluttered through your whole body.
You turned on all fours, your face resting against the couch as you waited for your next order.
Hongjoong moved to the edge of the couch. His hand coming to your mid back as his other slapped your ass, hard. You cried into the room and Hongjoong groaned at your delicious sound.
“Holy shit.” San growled.
You listen as Hongjoong spits into his hand and runs it over his cock a few times before he rounds his tip with his thumb and places his tip at your entrance.
“Are you ready, Princess?” Hongjoong asked, his voice hungry; the pet name a clear dig to irritate San.
“Yes.” You whine as you nod your head.
Hongjoong holds your hips as he starts to push in. You whine at his size and Hongjoong flattens his hand on your lower back as he slowly adds more of himself. You turn your head to look at him but his hands move to your waist and still you.
You felt yourself becoming full of Hongjoong. You could feel how tight you were and how your body took him.
“Shh. Relax, Princess.” Hongjoong coos as you push back against him, causing him to groan.
You whine as your body tries to get more of hongjoong. You roll your hips in your pose, cheek pressed against the cool leather and listen to San groan at your neediness.
Hongjoong’s hands on your waist tighten as he slowly backs up and pushes back into you with a beautiful grunt. He pulls back a little quicker and moves again. You moan at the wonderful feeling of him and flip your hair so you can get some fresh air.
You push back against Hongjoong and he groans as he picks up his pace. His hips getting hungry as he starts to really fuck you.
Your body lit up from the inside out as the fast, hard pace made it easy for your orgasm to come. You knew it would come soon and you welcomed it.
Hongjoong grunts as he fills you harshly. His hand coming to the base of your neck and pushing your head into the couch. You whine at his action and he moves your hair away from your face. “Say my name.” Hongjoong hisses through his teeth. You do as you're told and chant his name repeatedly.
Hongjoong snaps his hips against a spot inside of you that begged for more. You’re at your brink. “San!” You gasp, realizing you said the wrong name and Hongjoong holds your head down as you shift against his hold. Your hands weakly pressed against the couch.
“Oh no, Princess.” Hongjoong says as his hips snap against your sweet spot again.
“You really forgot who’s inside of you right now? ”
You whine at Hongjoong’s words. You were so close. You could feel your body willing to snap and give you an amazing orgasm, but you pushed the feeling down.
“Hongjoong.” You plea.
He groans at his name from your needy lips.
Hongjoong felt so good. He knew just how and where to hit to drive you insane. Your body shook with pleasure as you fought your orgasm to keep it at bay.
“Oh?” Hongjoong whispered as you garbled some sort of mess of syllables. Your head lulled to the side. You heaved as a pair of hands fondled your breasts. Your thighs shook, muscles tensing
“How many has that been, San? Were you counting?” Hongjoong removed himself so you could change from having the couch meet your face.
You moaned your happiness as you watched San undress himself as quickly as he could.
“Too fucking many.” San answered, visibly displeased he may be losing this game.
Hongjoong kissed your temple before he was deep inside you again.
Hongjoong slowed down behind you as San’s cock sprung free from his sweats. You lick your lips and groan at his size.
Hongjoong had slowed to a luscious grind that made you truly feel like his Princess.
San positioned himself on the couch in front of you. He held his cock out to you but you were panting too hard to suck him. “So fucked out.” San smiled as he caressed your hair.
You spit on San’s length to let your hand glide on him easier. He groaned thankfully as he finally got some attention.
Your body had relaxed into the motions of Hongjoong’s hips so you lean in and kiss San’s tip.
“Ah. Y/N.” He praised you and smiled as you took his tip and sucked him down.
San held your head as his hips rocked carefully to your mouth. His soft movements put more of him into your mouth to suck on.
You roll your tongue under San as you take more of him. Your body was shaking again and you moved to take him out of your mouth to tell Hongjoong but San’s hands on your head flexed and kept you there.
“I know, baby.” San groans.
“Can I?” Hongjoong desperately asks and you nod to tell him he could change the pace.
San leans over and slaps your other ass cheek to leave his own mark and you moan on his cock as the sting adds to your pleasures.
Hongjoong starts to move faster again and this makes you gag on San more than once but your body feels too good for you to want to stop.
You push back against Hongjoong as your body starts to realize that an orgasm is possible. You suck in your cheeks as San fucks your mouth quickly.
Hongjoong’s deep hits made your back arch as much as it could in the current position. You cried around San as you felt yourself get closer to a release. They both groaned at your sound.
“I’m so close.” Hongjoong groaned as he pulled your hips back onto his. You bare your teeth softly against San and he curses under his breath.
San hisses as he pulled himself out of your mouth and started stroking himself in front of your face. As soon as his cock had left your lips, so did a moan.
You moan with each of Hongjoong’s beautiful hits and watching San pet himself was so hot. You saw his grip on his cock get tighter as he looked into your eyes.
San opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows a bit as he did so. You mirror his expression and he groans as he comes onto your face.
San grunts deeply and you moan as you feel the hot streams fly onto your features. Your eyes closed for a moment and when you opened them again another round came onto your face.
You close your mouth around what had gotten in and San pushes his tip on your lips for you to suck on.
The feeling on your face and his twitching tip in your mouth with his groans of release and Hongjoong’s now sloppy thrusts gave you the release you so badly needed.
“I’m gonna fucking cum,” Hongjoong warned. He reached around you to fondle at your clit. Pleasure wracked your body as your high washed over you. His grip on your hips tightening as he thrusted into you deeply. Your walls convulsed just as Hongjoong spilled within you, your core taking him greedily. He pulled out with a groan of relief.
You panted for air as you lay still on the couch, both men as well spent. Hongjoong kissing the mark he had made on your backside before laying himself back on the couch. You raised your head to look up at San who was lazily looking at you with a smile. Your lips parted in a haphazard smile, “That was only round one with Hongjoong. The San I know hates to lose.”
#ateez#ateez atiny#ateez hongjoong#ateez scenarios#san ateez#ateez san#ateez fanfiction#ateez smut#ateez imagines#hongjoong ateez#hongjoong smut#kim hongjoong#san smut#choi san
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The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 3
Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!
SERIES MASTERLIST
pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: E (18+ MDNI)
wc: 3.2k
summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.
tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, riding a horse together, one mention of pee, hand touching, strip tease I guess, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, moth never uses y/n
authors note: Been holding onto this chapter since I haven't finished the next one but I really want to share this with you! Thank you @ezrasbirdie for beta and helping me untangle this mess and being the wind beneath my wings.
There are six links in the chain that separate you from Joel Miller. You count them over and over again. As you lay awake by the dying campfire. When he rattles them just after dawn to rouse you from the sleep you’d finally fallen into. While you drink the rancid coffee he boils over the fire.
You imagine them leaving an imprint on Joel’s tanned neck. Red, purple, bruising his skin as you use it to choke him to death.
You spend the morning following him to and fro as he and Ellie pack up camp.
“You know how to whistle?” Ellie asks you.
She’s been sticking her forefinger and thumb between her lips trying to get a sound out of them.
“Afraid not,” you tell her.
“You’re with me,” Joel says. He stands beside his horse, hand on his hip.
“I have to wear this damn bracelet the whole way?” you ask.
He nods.
“Do you think I’m crazy enough I’d jump off a horse?” you ask.
His eyes rake up and down your body and you try to ignore the heat that flashes across your skin. “Yep.”
Once he’s in the saddle, he hauls you up behind him. Not like you have much choice.
“You go for my gun and—“
“I know, I know,” you tell him.
You have ample opportunity to study the outlaw, at least the back side of him, as you ride behind him. He’s broad and sits tall in the saddle like he was born for it. You watch his shoulders under the fabric of his shirt, tempted to smooth your palms over them. With your wrists connected, you’ve got to keep your hands at his middle. His narrow hips roll with the movements of the animal beneath him, and you grip onto his shirt imagining how powerful it would feel to take him from behind.
He barely acknowledges you. There are a couple of times when you rest your cheek against his back just because you know it’ll annoy him. It works. He looks over his shoulder at you and you can hear the grumble vibrate through his body.
The three of you ride all day, stopping only twice to stretch your legs. Both times, Joel helps you down with his hands on your waist. You shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do but his hands are big and his eyes dart away from yours. He stops touching you as quick as he can, as if you’re a hot kettle that might burn his fingers.
Your amusement is short lived as you have to suffer the indignity of squatting behind a bush with your arm outstretched towards fucking Joel Miller while you take a piss.
It’s dusk when you reach your destination— an old two-story roadhouse with a sign that reads The Dusty Boot. There’s nothing else around but a barn, an outhouse, and open country. Seems like an ideal place to keep a hideout.
Joel hands you down from the saddle again but before you head inside, he rounds on you.
“Now listen here, missy,” he says. “When we go in there, you keep that trap shut. No talking about bounties or the like. Not a peep out of you. Understand?” Joel asks you.
You twist your pinched fingers in front of your lips as if you’re locking your mouth the same as your wrist is locked in that cuff. It’s a command you have absolutely no intention of following.
By the frown on his face, it seems he knows that.
“And you let me do the talking,” he tells Ellie.
“Maria’s got a stick up her ass,” she laughs.
“Ellie,” Joel scolds.
“You said it yourself!” she says.
Joel sighs and trudges forward, dragging you along with him.
The inside of the Boot is cozy and rustic. There’s a large parlor with a number of tables, the paneled walls are decorated with antlers and horse shoes. After a full day bouncing on horseback, you’d love to sit your ass down in one of the winged back chairs in front of the fireplace. Most importantly for your new companions, the place is empty. If there are other guests, they’re up in their rooms.
At one end of the room, a man in an apron with a rag thrown over his shoulder stands behind a modest bar.
“Hey, brother!” he calls, a smile lighting his face.
You can see a resemblance between the two men– the same dark eyes and tan complexion, though Joel’s has been kissed by the sun.
“Tommy?” you whisper to Ellie.
She nods.
Tommy’s as slim as Joel is broad and he looks a bit younger. If Joel ever bothered to smile maybe he’d lose a few years off his face, too.
“Been a while, stranger,” he says. “How’s it going, kid? Still giving him hell?”
“We need a place to lay low for a bit,” Joel says, cutting the pleasantries.
You’re not sure if Tommy’s disappointed that this isn’t a social call but he nods and says, “Yeah, alright. You gonna introduce me to your lady friend?”
Joel bristles at the suggestion that you might be anything other than his prisoner. You give a smile and lift your fingers to your brow as if to tip your hat. As you do, the chain rattles obnoxiously and Joel glares at you.
“What the hell, Joel!” Tommy’s jovial expression has transformed to a look of horror.
“She’s got a bounty on her. I’m taking her to Jackson,” Joel explains.
“Maria ain’t gonna be happy about that,” Tommy says.
“Isn’t going be happy about what?”
A lean woman has appeared at the top of the stairs. She stands tall, shoulders back with a cool air. Her simple, grey dress is neat and spotless just like, you note, the room around you.
Joel quickly takes his hat off. He nudges Ellie to do the same. He’s tense and you can’t tell if he resents this woman or he’s afraid of her. Maybe a little of both.
You like her.
She sighs heavily as she descends the steps.
“Tommy, please tell me I’m seeing things because it looks to me like your brother has a woman shackled to himself in my parlor,” she says.
“You ain’t,” Tommy replies. He sounds just as exasperated.
Maria sizes you up with a look that’s half pity, half disdain. She’s a beautiful woman. Deep brown skin and sharp, appraising eyes. You can only imagine what she thinks of you. A night sleeping in the dirt can’t have done you any favors and certainly neither did a day bouncing around on horseback.
“How’d she get that bruise, Joel?” Maria asks.
You stroke the spot on your face gently as though it really hurts. In truth, you’ve pretty much forgotten that it’s there.
“She came by it on her own,” Joel says.
“That true, darlin’?” Tommy asks you, his voice full of concern.
Joel’s face contorts in what you can only describe as disgust that his brother would think him capable of such a thing.
You give a noncommittal shrug.
“That’s courtesy of the Pinkerton man she was with before we picked her up. Joel gave him what for,” Ellie explains.
Tommy nods.
“We’re just wanting a couple nights to keep our heads down. Ain’t nothing we ain’t asked for before,” Joel says.
“That’s fine. If you unlock her,” Maria says.
“She’s a murderer. You want me to let her loose around your nice customers?” Joel asks.
“I’ve already got three criminals in here. What’s one more?” she says.
“Come on, Joel. Let her be,” Tommy says. “She ain’t gonna give you the slip. Are you, darlin’?”
“Well, if given the opportunity—“ you admit.
“Joel, take that damn cuff off her. And you,” Maria turns on you, “give him your word you won’t try to run while you’re under this roof. Or so help me god I will throw all three of you out.”
“The hell did I do?” Ellie asks.
You’re beginning to understand why you sensed fear on Joel. For a second there, you’re more afraid of enduring her wrath than you are facing the executioner.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say almost involuntarily.
“Shake on it,” Tommy suggests.
You extend your hand to Joel with a saccharine smile. Tommy’s obviously gone soft since he left the gang if he believes somebody like you would be beholden to a handshake promise. It’s sweetly naive.
Joel’s thinking the same thing. You can see it all over his face. He grinds his molars.
“You do what I say when I say it,” he insists.
“Sure thing, boss,” you say.
He shakes your hand.
Joel watches your every move.
He’s been wanting to get Tommy aside to talk but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes off you. You’re unleashed and eager to run and he’s not willing to lose his bounty just because his sister-in-law is so sanctimonious.
“Hey, Tommy. Why did the cowboy go to the doctor?” Ellie asks.
Evening has descended on the Boot. A stage coach pulls in for the night. Its two passengers take their supper at the bar while their driver warms his hands at the hearth. Ellie and Joel sit across from you in the corner, bowls of hot stew on the table. Hers is empty before Joel’s even managed to bring his spoon to his lips.
Joel notices things about you. He wishes he would stop noticing how attractive you are.
Your eyes are sharp and fast. He can tell you’re making note of anything and everything that might help you escape. You massage at your wrist which is now naked with delicate fingers. You lick your lips jealously when Tommy sets a whiskey down in front of his brother.
You don’t have good table manners. The way you stab at potatoes is particularly violent. You probably wish those tines were going into his eyeball.
“How come?” Tommy asks. He wipes his hands with his bar rag, eyes twinkling with delight.
“He was feeling a little hoarse!” Ellie cackles.
Joel shakes his head. The kid is a handful but she’s grown on him. Her puns have not.
He looks up to find you smirking. Not because you find the joke funny. No, you’re laughing at Joel.
He reaches across the table and puts his hand around yours. He shouldn’t touch you again, not since he shook your hand and felt the softness of your skin on his. He spent all day with you practically pressed against his back, getting hints of lavender each time he turned his head in your direction. Such a sweet scent for somebody like you. It’s been a long time since he felt the weight of a woman on him. His body doesn’t know that you’re as dangerous as a mountain lion and slippery as an eel. It just cares that you’re pretty and you’re closer than you ought to be. And it wants more of that.
Your muscles tense around the horn handle of your fork. Joel unwraps your fingers from the utensil, focusing on the task at hand not the feel of you under his fingertips or the wide eyed stare you give him. His heart is beating double time when he replaces your pointed fork with a spoon.
Your shoulders soften when he releases you. You remind yourself to sit up straight.
“Enough jokes,” Joel tells Ellie.
“He ain’t no fun,” Tommy laughs.
You continue to keep your big eyes on Joel as you finish your stew.
“That was good eating Miss Maria,” you say when she clears bowls from the table. “I don’t rightly remember the last time I had a proper meal.”
You’re a fool if you think you’ve got an ally in Maria. Just because she got you unlocked doesn’t mean she thinks you’re anything better than trash. Her daddy was a justice of the peace and she’s never taken kindly to criminals either. It still vexed him that she’d fallen for Tommy but then again she blamed Joel for all of his brother’s failings.
“I know a thing or two about cooking. I’d be happy to lend a hand,” you tell her.
Joel lets out a sharp laugh. Your voice is sweeter than Joel’s heard and you're laying it on thick buttering Maria up.
“What’s funny about that?” you demand.
“You don’t know a thing about cooking but I’m sure you’d like to get a knife in your hand,” Joel says.
“As a matter of fact, I do know how to cook. More than cowboy beans,” you spit.
“I appreciate the offer. It'd be nice to get a hand in the kitchen for once,” Maria says probably just to get a rise out of him.
“That’s too bad. I ain’t letting you out of my sight,” he says.
He stands, stretching out the sore muscles in his lower back.
“Got the front room for ya,” Tommy says. “I’m guessing you’re not looking to sleep in the common room.” He glances towards the other guests.
Joel and Ellie have stayed amongst the strangers in the big room on the second floor when the rest of the private accommodations are taken. With you ready to bolt, though, it’s not an option.
“I want my own room. Take it out of my share,” Ellie tells Joel when he gives her a stern look. “I’m sick of listening to you snore.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Maria says.
Despite her contempt for their criminal lifestyle, Maria dotes on Ellie. Like she’s leaving a saucer of milk out for a feral cat, hoping one day it’ll come inside to lay by the fire. “Tommy’ll set that up for you.”
“I’ll bunk with the kid,” you say.
“Nice try,” Joel says.
“Ain’t this cozy,” you say.
You’ve stepped into the room you’ll be sharing with Joel.
Cozy’s one way of putting it. There’s barely enough space to open the door without hitting the iron framed bed. Beside that is a night stand with a porcelain wash basin, a chair, and a window. There’s about two paces of open floor in either direction. It’s hardly big enough for the both of you.
But that works to Joel’s advantage. He doesn’t want you going far.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, he clamps the handcuff around your wrist once again.
“Come on now,” you whine. “What about our truce?”
“That’s for Maria’s benefit. And she ain’t here,” Joel says.
You’re well beyond arguing and rolling your eyes.
“Well you can’t expect me to sleep in these dirty clothes again. Can you at least give me my arm for a minute so I can get out of ‘em?” you ask.
Joel’s eyes travel over you and he swirls his tongue over his teeth. It’s not a difficult decision for him. If you want to undress and lay in bed in your underthings, he’s not going to stop you. He unlocks the cuff and moseys over to lean against the door. You’re not going to run out of there.
“You going to stand there and watch?” you ask, fingers pausing at the buttons on the top of your bodice.
Joel presses his shoulders against the door, making himself comfortable.
“How do I know you ain’t got a weapon in them petticoats?” he asks.
“If there was, you’d already be dead,” you say.
He lets out a chuckle.
“Suit yourself,” you say.
A cool smile comes over your features. You continue undoing the buttons as you turn towards him so he can see you straight on. Slowly, you reveal what’s underneath– the lines of your corset, a sweet ribbon at the top of your chemise, and an expanse of decolletage. You slide the bodice off of your shoulders and toss it onto the floor, then continue on to your skirts.
“That brother of yours is handsome,” you tell him. One skirt falls away. “Did he leave you for that woman or she come after that?”
Joel doesn’t answer. You don’t seem to care.
“She don’t like you,” you tease.
You square him with defiant eyes, inviting him to look, daring him to stay in control. More flesh is revealed. Your blue corset presses the swell of your breasts above the chemise and you bend forward to give him a little show. Ripe, soft. He salivates.
Joel tries not to enjoy himself too much. He shouldn’t. And not just because this could easily turn into a trap.
“She don’t like you neither,” he says.
You shrug.
He could have you any which way he wanted with just the promise of letting you go. He wouldn’t even have to do it. Just say the word and you’d get on your knees for him. It doesn’t feel right, though, taking advantage of somebody so desperate. So he just watches, trying to keep his features indifferent as each piece of frilly fabric hits the floorboards. He hooks his thumb into his gun belt, hoping that it might obscure the growing strain in his dungarees.
By the time you’re undoing the metal fasteners at the front of your corset, he’s biting down on the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood when there’s nothing more separating him from your body than a gauzy chemise and cotton drawers.
You go to the wash basin and splash water on your face and neck. Some droplets fall and make your chemise cling to your damp skin.Y ou moan happily, refreshed. The noise is obviously exaggerated but it still makes Joel ache.
You linger like that for a moment, lazily swaying your bare shoulders. Finally, you step towards Joel, crowding him against the door. The space between the two of you is hot and his breath shallows. He can see the outline of your peaked nipples beneath the flimsy material. The thought passes his mind again, how easy it would be to toss you back onto the mattress and help himself to all of you.
You raise your hand to him and for a moment, he’s forgotten what’s going on here. The sly grin on your lips tells him that you’re well aware of the effect your nearly naked body is having on him. He swallows and slips the cuff around you again. His knuckles graze the inside of your wrist as he locks it. Delicate, warm skin.
Pleased with yourself, you crawl onto the bed. Joel wills his cock to behave as he slips out of his boots and coat. He soaks his bandana in the wash basin and cools the back of his neck. Once he’s in his union suit, he sets his holster down on the floor beside his pillow and swings his legs into the bed. He locks himself to you and tucks the key next to his gun.
“Well ain’t this romantic,” you say from your spot against the wall. “Feels like my wedding night all over again.”
Joel stares at the ceiling. The bed’s a tight fit, his shoulders touch yours when he lays on his back. You’re leaned on your elbow smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He smells that lavender again.
He rolls onto his side, away from your leering. You laugh to yourself as he squeezes his eyes shut for a very long night.
Comments and reblogs always appreciated!
Chapter 4
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#outlaw!Joel Miller#joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character#ellie williams#tommy miller#maria tlou#tlou
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New experiences
Cowboy!Marine! Reader has been on my mind too much.
Strictly platonic. Might make Cowboy! Reader a reoccurring thing, who knows.
(≧▽≦)(≧▽≦)(≧▽≦)(≧▽≦)
Koby had never seen such an obedient crew when it came to the Marines. There was always a group, big or small, that misbehaved.
He was shadowing a different Captain, Garp had stuff to do so he was pushed to another. Honestly he was expecting glares and sneering from the crew, but instead he was met with smiles and cheers.
"Welcome to th' crew, Koby! We're glad to have ya'round!" The Captain said from behind him. Instantly he noted the western accent that was very apparent in their speach.
Koby turned around to salute the captain, taking in the most notable thing about them, being the western hat atop their head. Something a cowboy would wear in the wild wild west books he read as a kid, with horses and gun draws.
"Captain!" Koby said, hand flat and up by his forehead.
Someone in the crew let out a chuckle, then another, and soon after everyone was laughing. At one point he thought he heard a couple people fall to the floor.
Even the Captain let out a laugh. "No need t'be so formal, we don't do all that 'round here" They pat his shoulder before walking towards the stairs. He simply nodded and let his hand fall.
"You got any questions? What's for dinner? Sleeping quarters?" They asked, looking at Koby from half way up the stairs.
"Uh, yeah..." Koby muttered, scratching his neck. No matter how much he had improved, he was still as nervous meeting new people as he was when he met Luffy.
"Hm? Speak up!" They hollered, narrowing their eyes at him with a small frown.
"I do have a question!" Kody shouted, closing his eyes. He could feel his sweat drop.
It was quiet, Koby swore he was about to be pushed overboard. Boots clacking on the ground grew louder as, who he assumed was the Captain, approached again.
"Well?" They said, hand on their hips and leaning more on one foot than the other.
Koby swallowed the lump in his throat before opening his eyes, "What are we doing today, captain...?" He asked. The hem of his shirt freying from him messing with it out of nervousness.
They let out a sign, looking Koby up and down and taking in his nervous body language.
"I told you t'not be so formal. Just call me (Y/N)." They said, setting a hand on Koby's head and keeping it there for a second. "As for your question..."
Their hand on his head wrapped around his shoulder, gently leading him to face a different angle. Their other hand is pointing out to an island not far away.
"We're buildin'"
Building? Building what? He didn't know the Marines built, he thought there was a job for that already.
It was obvious with the look on his face that he didn't understand. (Y/N) let a chuckle out and stopped pointing. "We're not really fighters, we do uh..." they placed their hand on their chin in thought, "community work, I suppose."
"Community work?" Koby asked, looking up at the Captain, thanking their hat for blocking out the sun from his eyes.
"Yep! We go 'round and help people. Lots of times stuff gets damaged while Marines 'r catching Pirates an' stuff" They explained, taking their hand off his shoulder to make motions with their hands.
That definitely made sense to him. Thinking back to when he was still kinda new and had to repair the wall Luffy and Garp had broken. It was a horrible job and while on the ship he heard Garp mention something about the repair teams, now he knows what Garp was talking about.
"What- uh, what are we building?" Koby asked, walking over to the railing and looking as the island got closer.
"A barn" (Y/N) said nonchalantly. Koby's head whipped around and stared at them like they were crazy.
"A Barn?!" He repeated, "How's that gonna work? With what materials? I doubt anyone here knows how to build a barn." He ranted, going into the logistics of it being a successful job.
(Y/N) watched Koby spiral for a second before putting their hands on his shoulders to ground him. "Relax rookie. We've got a bunch 'f wood in the haul and we, the crew, have been doin' stuff like this for a long time" they reassured him with a smile.
With a nod he just looked back at the island as they let go of him to walk away, probably talking to the helmsmen or something.
Perhaps this would be a fun experience, though he wasn't excited to build a literal barn, even if everyone knew what they were doing.
#one piece x reader#one piece#op x reader#requests open#underrrated1#x reader#marines one piece#ome piece Marines#koby one piece#op koby#koby x reader#strictly platonic
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when the sun leaves me — quinn bailey
Description: Quinn finds herself often asking where exactly she stands with you. The problem is that she only ever asks herself, never you.
Pairings: Quinn Bailey x F!Reader (she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a girl)
Content: fluff, angst if you squint, non-gf!quinn so it’s probably ooc but she’s my babygirl so idec, alcohol consumption (not by reader), kissing, use of y/n, unedited, lmk if i missed anything
Word Count: 1.5k
Author’s Note: if u recognize where the title of this comes from, u have my heart <3
Quinn wakes up first.
A weight is splayed across her body, and her eyes squint the the window, almost groaning at the lack of sunlight from its west-facing wall. The weight on her is not even, but it is you. Something weird is that none of you feels suffocating. You’re just there. It’s comforting, but she wishes you’d suffocate her instead.
Rubbing her hands up and down your arm, you stir against her side, instinctively burrowing yourself into her side. She fights back a smile.
Her eyes close for the next few minutes to relish in the silence of your sleeping presence.
Until, there’s an unintelligible mumble in her neck.
“What?” She asks, looking down at you.
“What time?”
She picks up her phone from the nightstand. “Too early.”
“An actual time?”
“It’s nine.”
“Shit.”
“Why?”
You get up, the warmth disappearing from her side and leaving the bed when you swing your legs over the bed and reach for your bag on the floor.
“I have half an hour to get ready for class,” You mumble, rummaging through your belongings to find your phone.
“You can stay here,” Quinn offers, resting against the headboard. You have your backpack from last night still in her room, so she doesn’t see a problem. “Do you need a shower?”
You’re gawking for a moment and she worries if she’d overstepped, but you reply quickly enough. “What about clothes?”
“There should be some of your clothes in my dresser.”
Your eyes narrow in confusion.
“It’s from when you stayed over while your building did renovations.”
“Oh,” You nod, recalling that week. It had been a long time since then, so the surprise is evident on your face when Quinn remembered. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”
Quinn situates herself on the side you slept on the night before, basking in the little warmth you had left. The shower starts running, and she hides herself under the covers.
She doesn’t realize she had fallen asleep again until you wake her up by pulling the comforter back, the scent of her own soap reaching her nose. Her eyelids crack open the tiniest bit and she mirrors the smile on your lips.
“I’m gonna make breakfast. D’you want anything?”
She shakes her head, “I’ll eat whatever you cook.”
When you exit the room, Quinn follows a minute after. You’re already making yourself home in the kitchen, and while Quinn comes out of the hallway she’s greeted by a smug-looking Tara. The ginger shuts that down with a stern expression and Tara subsequently backs off.
Quinn can hear the Carpenter sister holding back a snicker when she’s caught smiling at you like a lovesick idiot as you prepare a plate for both of you. You even ask if Tara wants food, and that’s when she politely declines and leaves the room, unable to hold back her laugh anymore.
“What’s with her?” You gesture to the hallway she disappeared into, taking a bite of your breakfast as the other girl does the same from across the breakfast bar.
“Nothing, don’t pay her any mind.” Quinn says a bit too quickly, but you don’t mention that or the slight panic in her voice that only you’d be able to read.
You leave a few minutes later, but not without kissing Quinn’s forehead, a tradition you started when you two got close.
She flops onto the couch with a soft sigh, hugging a pillow to her chest. She doesn’t see her roommate finally coming out of her room.
“So…” The voice startles her, and she spots Tara leaning against the wall adjacent to the sofa. “Y/N?”
“What?”
“When you said life is about variety…I didn’t know you meant girls.”
She groans, “It doesn’t.”
At Tara’s raised brows, Quinn is fast to clarify. “I mean—I like girls. But not her. She’s not a fling.”
“I didn’t say anything about a fling,” The brunette grins.
“You implied it.”
“So…she’s a girlfriend?”
“No!” Quinn threatens to throw the pillow at her friend by raising it up and aiming, to which Tara disappears around the corner. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not my anything.”
“Whatever you say,” Tara goes back to her room.
Now that Tara has brought it up, it begins to plague her mind for the next few days.
She starts closely observing how you interact with her.
‘Carpooling’ with you has been such a common occurrence—routine—that it’s never put her off, but now that she’s thinking about what she is to you, she fidgets uncomfortably in her passenger seat while you drive her to meet up with some friends.
“You okay?” You sense her reluctance, the way she’s practically curling into herself.
“I’m fine,” She brushes you off. “Why do you drive me around?”
“Well,” you purse your lips. “You ask me to.”
Quinn would be lying if she said that didn’t make her heart flutter just a bit. “Yeah, but you always agree.”
“It’s just—It’s the nice thing to do.” You shrug. Your hesitation to say that isn’t lost on her. At all.
“Is it?” She questions, more for herself than you. She regains confidence at the thought of you being nervous around her, too. “Do you drive everyone around?”
“You’re the only one who asks.”
The rest of the ride is silent, with Quinn contemplating whether that’s the truth, and you keeping your eyes on the road, a little more focused than usual.
She isn’t always like this. She’s never like this, actually. There has never been anyone who made her lose her typical flirty persona, not even an actor who had once hit on her at a bar, nobody except for you. There’s something about it that’s thrilling, to know there’s someone that can make her feel so differently than the others, but there is no coin without two sides. The other side to this—the con—is that she’s at a disadvantage. Feeling like this is to be vulnerable.
For the entire week, you continue daily life while Quinn is left to wallow in her own thoughts. She doesn’t think you’d ever notice until you actually corner her at a party and demanded answers.
You’re rarely at parties. But Quinn is here, so you’re here. You don’t physically corner her, but it’s basically the same thing when you catch her coming out of the bathroom in the random frat house.
“Hey,” you catch her by the wrist. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Throughout the night, it’s clear that she’d been making an effort to stay out of your way, and a heart constricts within her ribcage when she sees the hurt look on your face.
“What do you mean?” She squeezes between the mass of moving bodies against the pink and purple lights, and you’re desperate to follow her.
You don’t corner her. You leave an opening, a way out if she so diligently wishes. But she knows now, with how you are, that if she leaves, you’ll take it as an answer. If she leaves, she shuts you out indefinitely, but staying means to open her heart to you and though every fiber of her being says make me yours, it’s not that easy. The words are molasses on her tongue. It takes her a few minutes and a drink to get it out, and even if you’re patient, you won’t stay forever.
“This shit scares me,” She finally gathers the courage to face you, and it’s a breath of fresh air when you laugh. “You scare me.”
You don’t talk, you nod for her to continue.
“I don’t even…I don’t know if you like girls, okay? And you—you’re so…touchy with me. Like I can’t decide if straight girls really are just that affectionate and I’m reading into it, but then you kiss me on the forehead and look at me like—like…I don’t know! And—”
A pair of lips—yours—is on hers, effectively cutting off her ramble, and within the second she’s kissing you back. It’s the easiest decision she’s ever made, and when your hands snake across her back to pull her closer, the warmth spreads throughout her entire being. Deepening the kiss by tilting her head, she grabs your jaw to keep you there, and you smile.
But a catcall whistle interrupts the two of you. Remembering where you are, you make a suggestion.
“Wanna get out of here?” You smirk, less than an inch from her lips. She resists the urge to close that distance as to not give the others even more of a show.
“Oh, absolutely. Let’s go.”
#scream 6#scream 6 x reader#scream vi#scream#scream x reader#quinn bailey x reader#quinn bailey#quinn bailey fluff#scream imagine#scream 6 imagines
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