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sunni-stuff · 1 month ago

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Standing outside your apartment, Simon tightened his grip around the wooden toy train, the corners of the box digging slightly into his palm. His heart thrummed uncomfortably in his chest—a sensation far too foreign for someone who’d faced down worse odds than this. He was used to calculating risks, taking them head-on, but this? This wasn’t a battlefield; it was something infinitely more terrifying. He was meeting his daughter.

He cast a glance at the train in his hand, a sturdy, well-crafted toy he and Johnny had spent hours picking out earlier that day. The shopkeeper’s amused expression still lingered in his mind—two grown men scrutinizing toy trains as though the fate of the world rested on their choice. You hadn’t been specific, just a train, no frills, nothing cartoonish. And so Simon had chosen the simplest one, figuring it was better to err on the side of practicality.

Beside him, Johnny leaned casually against the wall, spinning a plastic-cased mermaid Barbie in his hands. The vibrant teal-and-pink packaging clashed starkly with the air of seriousness Simon carried.

Simon scowled, his gaze darting to the doll. “I told you, no dolls. She said no dolls.” His voice was low and rough, almost a growl, though it carried more nervous energy than actual anger.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, smirking as he turned the Barbie over in his hands. “What kid doesn’t like a Barbie? Eh? You’re overthinking this, big man.” His Scottish accent lent an irreverent edge to his words. “Besides, it’s just a backup. If she doesn’t like the train—which, let’s face it, is a bloody long shot—I’ve got something she’s bound to love.”

Simon shot him a sharp look. “It’s not about the toy,” he muttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It’s about… makin’ an impression. Proper one.”

Johnny’s smirk softened, his usual teasing tone giving way to something closer to sincerity. “And you think that’s all ridin’ on a train? C’mon, mate, it’s you she’s meeting, not just some toy. Kids aren’t daft—they know when someone’s tryin’.” He tilted his head toward the toy in Simon’s hand. “But, for what it’s worth, that train’s not bad. Proper classic. No gimmicks.”

Simon grunted in response, his attention flicking back to the apartment door. It was a quiet, unassuming building, but the pressure of what lay beyond that door was immense. You were in there with her—Adira. His daughter. The thought still felt surreal, even after the days he’d spent turning it over in his mind. He’d seen her before, from a distance, but that was different. This was too personal in a way he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

“I should’ve brought the others,” Simon muttered under his breath, more to himself than Johnny.

Johnny’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Aye, because showin’ up with the whole bloody team wouldn’t be overwhelming at all, eh? ‘Here’s yer dad, and here’s his army of uncles.’ Real subtle.”

Simon huffed a dry laugh despite himself, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. Johnny always had a knack for cutting through his nerves, even when Simon wasn’t in the mood for it.

The sound of footsteps on the other side of the door snapped Simon’s attention back to the moment. His pulse quickened as the lock turned, and the door creaked open to reveal you standing there, a mixture of caution and curiosity etched into your expression. You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze darting between Simon, Johnny, and the toys in their hands.

“Hi,” Simon managed, his voice quieter than he’d intended. He cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the train. “Uh… thought I’d bring somethin’ she might like.”

You glanced at the train, then at Johnny’s Barbie, raising an eyebrow. “I see Johnny didn’t listen,” you comment dryly, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone.

Johnny grinned, unbothered. “Insurance, lass. Always good to have a backup plan.”

Stepping aside, you gestured for them to come in. “Well, let’s see how this goes. She’s in the living room.”

Simon felt the air grow heavier as he crossed the threshold, each step bringing him closer to something he’d been equal parts dreading and hoping for. The sound of quiet giggles and the rustle of toys came from the living room, and he stopped short in the hallway, his hand tightening instinctively around the train.

“You okay?” you asked curiously, your question laced with something he couldn’t quite place—concern? Reassurance?

He nodded stiffly, though he wasn’t entirely sure who he was convincing. “Yeah,” he said, masking his unease. This wasn’t the time to let emotions run wild, not when his daughter was just a few steps away. He needed to reel everything, keep composed.. “Just… takin’ a moment.”

Johnny clapped him on the shoulder, his grin unfaltering. “You’ve got this, mate. And if all else fails—” he held up the Barbie with a dramatic flourish—“I’ve got you covered.”

Simon rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered dryly.

He took a grounding breath, then stepped into the living room. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks—Adira, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a miniature train set spread out before her. Her dark hair fell in delicate curls around her face, and her eyes, so startlingly like his own, lit up with delight as she guided a tiny train along the tracks.

The world seemed to narrow, every noise fading into the background except for the sound of her soft laughter. This was his daughter, and for the first time, he wasn’t just watching from afar—he was here.

Adira looked up, her curious gaze locking onto him. Simon’s heart leapt into his throat as she tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and caution. Before he could speak, Johnny stepped forward, a grin plastered across his face as he crouched beside her.

"Hey, bonnie lass," Johnny greeted, bringing in warmth and cheerfulness. He held out the mermaid Barbie, its plastic casing shimmering in the soft light. “Look what I got for ye.”

Adira blinked at him, her small head tilting to the side in the same assessing way she’d done with Simon. Then, in a voice as sweet as it was blunt, she said, “Ugee.”

Simon held back a laugh, but Johnny froze, his grin faltering. Did she just call me ugly again? he thought, momentarily stunned before recovering with a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, come on, lass. That’s no way to treat yer Uncle Johnny,” he teased, though his pride was clearly bruised. He pushed the doll a little closer, his voice softening. “It’s for you. Look—she’s got a shiny tail and everything.”

Adira’s expression shifted, her curiosity piqued as she finally reached for the doll. Johnny’s face lit up with relief, and he turned to you and Simon with a victorious smirk. “Told ya,” he mouthed, his tone smug.

Simon raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, while you merely crossed your arms, waiting for what you knew was coming.

The sound of plastic ripping shattered Johnny’s moment of triumph. His head whipped around just in time to see Adira pull the doll free from its packaging with surprising efficiency. She studied it for a moment, her tiny fingers gripping the head and the body. And then—pop—the doll’s head came clean off.

Johnny’s jaw dropped as he watched Adira inspect the decapitated doll with silent satisfaction. She set the head down beside her, then held up the now-headless body, apparently contemplating her next move.

Simon let out a chuckle, unable to hide his amusement as Johnny gawked at the scene, his earlier smugness entirely gone. “Well,” Simon drawled, unable to hide his dry humor. “Guess she wasn’t a fan after all.”

Johnny turned back to you and Simon, his expression caught between disbelief and betrayal. “What… what kind of kid just does that?!” he demanded, gesturing wildly at the scene behind him.

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I warned you about the dolls.”

Johnny shook his head, still reeling as he muttered under his breath, “She’s Sid from Toy Story incarnate, I swear.”

Adira, seemingly unbothered by the fuss, returned her focus to her trains, contentedly adding the doll’s head to a makeshift pile of "cargo." Johnny looked ready to protest further, but Simon stepped forward, crouching to her level and holding out the wooden train.

“Hi,” he spoke softly, his voice steady despite the lingering laughter in his chest. “I brought you somethin’. Thought you might like it.”

Adira didn’t respond right away, her eyes bouncing between him and the toy. Then, slowly, she reached out, her small fingers brushing against the train before taking it from his hands. Unlike the Barbie, she carefully opened the box, her movements deliberate and methodical. She removed the wooden train gently, inspecting it for a moment. Without a word, she added it to the tracks, her attention already back on her play as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Simon stayed crouched, watching her intently. A flicker of relief crossed his face at her acceptance of the gift. The room, heavy with unspoken tension just moments before, now felt lighter, though Simon could feel the enormity of the moment pressing against his chest.

You appeared at his side, crouching slightly to meet his eye, a small grin on your lips. “That’s a good sign,” you murmured, keeping your voice low. “She doesn’t usually let people touch her trains.”

Simon exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His gaze flickered back to Adira, watching as she carefully positioned the new train car alongside the others, her focus unwavering. It wasn’t much—just a small gesture—but it felt monumental. A start.

“She’s got good taste,” Simon adds, a touch of pride in his tongue as he nodded toward the tracks. “Knows quality when she sees it.”

You chuckled, the sound easing the edges of Simon’s nerves. “It’s not just that,” you replied, your eyes lightening as you watched Adira. “Trains are her world. If she’s letting you into it, even a little…” You trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Simon nodded, his throat tightening with a mix of emotions he wasn’t used to confronting. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply watch her, the curve of her cheek, the determined set of her brow as she pushed the train forward, creating a soft click-clack noise against the wooden tracks. He thought of all the moments he’d missed, all the firsts that had come and gone without him. But now, sitting there on the floor of your apartment, watching his little girl play, he felt something unfamiliar: hope.

“It’s a start,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. And for now, that was enough.

Johnny hung back near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the tender scene unfold. Simon, a man he’d always seen as unshakable and stoic, was crouched beside Adira, his usually guarded expression diminished by a rare, genuine grin. Johnny didn’t dare interrupt—this wasn’t his moment. He was just a spectator, standing on the sidelines as a long-standing divide finally began to close.

The warmth in the room tugged at Johnny’s own heart, and though he wasn’t one for sentimentality, the sight was too good to pass up. Without a word, he slipped his phone from his pocket, angling it just right to snap a quick picture. Simon’s grin, lopsided and proud, was illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp, his large frame almost comically dwarfed by the tiny train set and the little girl at its center.

Satisfied with the shot, Johnny smirked to himself as he typed out a caption: “Big man, small trains. Heart officially melted. ” He hit send, the photo shooting off to the group chat where the lads were bound to have a field day with it.

Moments later, his phone buzzed with a flurry of responses:

Roach: “Never thought I’d see Ghost look so human.”

Gaz: “He’s got the ‘Dad Look’ down already. Almost feel bad making fun of him.”

Price: “I don’t. Send more pics.”

Stifling a snicker, Johnny shoved his phone back into his pocket. He glanced back at Simon, who was completely absorbed in Adira’s world, watching as she pushed the new train along the tracks with the utmost concentration. The sheer joy and focus on her face seemed to draw Simon further into her orbit, as if nothing else existed but the tiny, clacking train set.

Johnny shook his head fondly. Big, scary Ghost, he thought, brought to his knees by a wee lass and a wooden train. It was a sight he’d never forget.

Johnny slipped out of the apartment with a quiet click of the door, leaving the two of you in a silence that felt both comfortable and weighty. His absence left the air clearer, yet filled with the unspoken. As Adira remained engrossed in her trains, her murmurs creating a gentle rhythm in the background, you found your mind racing with a single, unrelenting question:

What now?

Giving her toys was one thing. Simon showing up, physically present, was a start. But the path ahead of you wasn’t so simple. Building a connection took more than gifts and fleeting moments. Adira was too young to truly grasp the gravity of this shift in her world. Telling her outright that Simon was her father didn’t feel right—not now. That conversation would be better left for a day when she could fully understand it.

You rose from your position near him, brushing off your knees as you took a real long look at her. There it was, in her little mannerisms, her sharp focus, the way her brow furrowed just slightly as she concentrated—it was him. So much of him. And the way Simon’s gaze relaxed as he watched her? You could see it, plain as day. He wanted to be there for her.

And you wanted her to be happy.

The realization hit you with clarity: the best way to make this transition smooth was to let Simon find his place naturally. He couldn’t make up for all the firsts he’d missed, but there was still time for so many more moments.

“So…” you began, your voice quiet but heavy, the word hanging between you like an unspoken question. You turned to face Simon, watching him carefully as he sat cross-legged on the floor, his broad frame surprisingly small in this intimate space. He was still holding that wooden train, his fingers gently brushing over the smooth surface like it was something sacred.

Simon looked up at you, his eyes catching yours, and he shifted slightly, his posture relaxed, but there was something else—something vulnerable yet determined. "So," he echoed, his voice unshakable, though you could hear the undertone of apprehension, a slight tremor of uncertainty beneath his calm façade. He wanted to be open, to show you he was ready for whatever was coming next, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

You crossed your arms, not out of defiance but out of the need to ground yourself. It was a physical gesture, a way to hold yourself steady in the face of everything that had led to this moment. “This isn’t going to be easy,” you said, the words a simple statement, but they carried meaning.

“I didn’t expect it to be,” Simon replied, his voice firm, the same way it would sound in the midst of a mission, when the stakes were high. The seriousness in his tone wasn’t lost on you. But there was more than just the soldier in him now—there was a father. "But I’m here. I want to try. For her." His eyes darted to Adira, his gaze lingering on her as she lined up her train set with careful precision. It was a look filled with fierce, almost protective determination, and it tugged at your chest.

“For her,” you agreed, your heart swelling with the truth of it. “She deserves that. But it’s not just about showing up with toys. It’s about showing up for her. Being there when she needs you, even if it’s hard. Even if she pushes you away at first.”

Simon’s jaw tightened as you spoke, and you saw the muscles in his neck flex, as though he was fighting against something—maybe the grandness of what this all meant, maybe his own doubts. “I can do that,” he said after a pause, his voice low but resolute. “I will.”

“You’ll have to.” Your tone tender, but you still held that edge of playful taunting. It was your way of testing the waters, of gauging if he was truly prepared for what this would take. “She’s stubborn. Wonder where she gets that from.”

Simon huffed a quiet laugh, and a faint smirk forming on his mouth. For a brief moment, the walls he’d built around himself seemed to weaken, just a little. “Aye, can’t imagine,” he replied, the humor easing some of the tension in the room.

There was a pause, the room settling into a calm that hadn’t been there before. You watched as Simon glanced back at Adira, his eyes lingering on her as she placed another train down, her little brow furrowed in concentration. The sight was almost too much for him—this was his flesh and blood, sitting right there in front of him, in this quiet, domestic world he hadn’t been a part of.

“First things first—likes and dislikes.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, but you didn’t wait for him to respond. You turned on your heel and slipped into the kitchen, the quiet tension that had settled between you both diminishing. Simon, sitting cross-legged on the floor near Adira, was still absorbing the weight of everything unfolding. His gaze followed you as you disappeared into the next room, the brief silence stretching between the two of you.

When you returned, you were holding a file—nothing flashy, just a plain folder. You approached him and handed it over, watching as he hesitated, the weight of the paper in his hands heavier than it appeared.

The sight inside that greeted him threw him off guard—pages upon pages of meticulously written details. At first glance, it looked like a detailed report, every section filled with information about Adira’s daily routine, preferences, and even the smallest of habits. Her favorite snacks, the way she liked her sandwiches cut in triangles. Each page was packed with specifics: her reactions to certain foods, her favorite colors, how she responded to certain sounds and even what she liked to do on rainy days—took him completely off guard.

Simon blinked at it, flipping through the pages as if trying to find a sense of grounding in the flood of information. It was overwhelming, but what struck him the most was how thorough it was—how much you had put into it. Everything about her, everything you alone learned over the years, all laid out for him to see.

The file was thick, packed with details. The more he flipped through, the more surprised he became. Notes jotted in neat handwriting with labeled sections.There wasn’t just filled with cold, clinical notes. It also contained moments of tenderness, small anecdotes about how Adira reacted to certain situations or things that made her smile. You had carefully noted the songs she liked to sing along with, how she would curl up on the couch when she was feeling down, the exact way she liked her bedtime story read.

Simon looked up at you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. “What is all this?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with surprise.

You offered him a faint smile, though there was no real humor in it. “Before you think I’m crazy or paranoid,” you began, raising your hands slightly in defense, “I work at the daycare around the corner, and Adira comes with me. It’s policy to keep these records—just in case. You know, since some kids have allergies, or there are specific things we need to be aware of.”

He nodded, still flipping through the file, as if seeing this list of Adira’s little quirks and habits for the first time made her seem more real. More like a child who had to be cared for, understood, and loved in ways that went far beyond simply showing up with a toy.

“I didn’t know you’d been keeping track of all of this,” A look of genuine surprise crossed his face. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you’d been doing so much.”

You shrugged slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “It’s nothing. Just making sure she’s okay.” There was an edge of vulnerability to your words, as if you were downplaying the emotional weight of it all.

Simon’s fingers lingered on the pages, his gaze skimming the words as if trying to understand the depth of the commitment you had for Adira. It wasn’t just about her well-being, it was about every little thing that made her, her.

“You really do know everything about her, don’t you?” he said, his voice tinged with awe.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his reaction. It wasn’t about control or being overprotective—it was about ensuring that every part of Adira’s world was in order, even when you weren’t looking.

“I know what she likes, what she dislikes. I know how she reacts when she’s tired or overstimulated. I know what makes her laugh and what makes her cry. It’s not about keeping tabs, it’s about making sure she feels safe. Especially with everything changing right now.”

Simon absorbed your words quietly, the weight of the file heavy in his hands. The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. You had been doing this alone for so long—carrying the weight of all these little details, managing the complexity of motherhood without the support he should’ve been offering.

“She’s lucky,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’ve done more than I can even imagine.”

You didn’t say anything at first. The simplicity of his words caught you off guard, making you feel a bit exposed. “It’s just what you do for them,” you replied, your voice softer now, more vulnerable. “You do what you can to make sure they’re okay.”

Simon closed the file slowly, processing what it meant. He felt a surge of something—guilt, maybe, or a quiet ache—as he realized just how much he’d missed. He’d been absent for so many of the small, seemingly insignificant moments that made up Adira’s life. And now, looking at the file, he could feel the weight of his absence more than ever.

“I want to know it all,” Simon said quietly, his voice full of resolve. “Every little thing. I don’t care how small it seems. I want to learn everything about her.”

Your heart skipped at his words, and for the first time, you felt a sense of stability knowing he’d be around to lift some of the hardship off your shoulders. For once, it wouldn’t just be you anymore.

“Good,” Your voice filled with quiet approval. “Because it’s going to take time. And you’ll need to be patient.”

“I can do that,” he replied, his jaw set with determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

By 6 AM sharp, there he was—a solid, familiar figure standing at your door with his sleeves rolled up and a faint, hesitant smile. He never asked if you needed help; he simply showed up, ready to lend a hand. Simon didn’t just want to be in your life—he wanted to belong in it. Every visit to your apartment wasn’t just about showing up; it was about figuring out how to bridge the gap between her world and his. You had been Adira's anchor, her everything. Simon understood that, respected it, but he was intent on creating his own place in her little universe—one small gesture at a time.

At first, his kitchen skills left a lot to be desired. You insisted you could handle breakfast on your own, but Simon waved you off, determined to prove himself. Adira sat in her highchair, small fingers clutching a slice of strawberry as she watched her father with wide, curious eyes. He wrestled with the stovetop like it was an enemy combatant, flipping pancakes that somehow always ended up sticking or splattering in every direction. A particularly ambitious flip sent batter flying, splattering across his shirt and the counter.

Adira paused mid-chew, her sharp little eyes zeroing in on the mess. "Messy man," she mumbled around the strawberry, her tone matter-of-fact but laced with childish amusement.

Simon froze, mid-swipe with a paper towel, and glanced at her, eyebrows shooting up. “What’d you call me?”

"Messy man," she repeated, a little more confidently this time, giggling as she pointed at the batter streaked across his chest.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Simon groaned, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’ll remember that,” he muttered, though there was no hiding the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

Despite the mishaps, he never gave up. Day by day, the kitchen disasters became fewer. He learned that Adira liked her pancakes shaped like stars if you had the time and that a dollop of whipped cream on top made her clap her hands with delight. He discovered she preferred her strawberries sliced thin, not chunky, and that she hated the crusts on toast but loved when it was cut into neat little triangles.

More importantly, while you were around, Adira began to interact with him in ways you hadn’t expected. She would babble at him as he cooked, her little hands waving animatedly as though she was offering advice. He listened as if she were telling him the most important secrets in the world, nodding solemnly and responding in his deep, rumbling voice.

One morning, as he handed her a plate with her favorite star-shaped pancakes, she looked up at him with a toothy smile, “Thank you, messy man.”

Simon froze, his grip tightening on the plate for just a second before he crouched down to her level. “You’re welcome, love,” The endearing nickname left his lips with ease, carrying an edge of something raw and tender.

You stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold with a lump in your throat. This wasn’t just about breakfast. It was about Simon trying—every single day—to show her that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. It was clumsy and imperfect, but it was real. And you couldn’t help but feel the faint stirrings of something like hope, watching the way Adira’s small world seemed to expand to make room for him.

After some time of this new, unspoken pattern settling in—one that felt like a quiet, gradual understanding—Adira seemed to begin warming up to Simon. It wasn’t as deep or instantaneous as it had been with you, but it was enough. Enough for her to sit at the table, nibbling on the pancakes he’d made. Enough to sit near him and listen to his voice without the immediate urge to run to you. And, perhaps most telling, enough for her to offer him a strawberry one morning before daycare.

Still, there were unspoken boundaries. She wouldn’t let him touch her trains, a sacred realm of hers he dared not trespass. And after a while of him being nearby, she’d often wander back to you, clutching at your leg or climbing into your lap, needing the reassurance of your proximity.

You saw it in Simon’s eyes sometimes, the flicker of hurt that he quickly masked, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. But it did. You could tell. Adira was studying him from the safety of her bubble, keeping her distance as if trying to figure him out. You couldn’t blame her. Adira had lived her life with you as the constant; Simon was a new element in her world, one she wasn’t sure how to integrate yet.

But you couldn’t help but wonder: Did she need just a little nudge? A chance to have a moment with him—just the two of them—without you hovering nearby to catch her if she fell?

That opportunity came one morning when the daycare announced they would be closing down the toddler classrooms for renovations. Since Adira’s classroom was off-limits, she couldn’t come with you, leaving a gap in her schedule for at least a day or two. It was the perfect chance for Simon to step in and watch her alone, just the two of them.

That morning, Simon arrived as usual, but the atmosphere was different. You were already dressed for work, and Adira sat on the couch, her little frame wrapped in her favorite onesie—a fuzzy lavender number with tiny clouds on the sleeves. Her attention was fixed on the cartoon playing on the screen, her pillow hugged tightly to her chest.

You had considered this moment for a while, weighing the risks and the benefits. You knew how much it would mean to Simon if Adira let him in just a little bit more. But it was still a leap. You couldn’t help but feel the protective instinct rising in you, a sharp edge of caution in your chest. If anything went wrong, if Adira seemed uncomfortable or the situation felt off, you’d be home in a heartbeat. It was your job to protect her, to put her needs above all else—even Simon’s. As much as he was trying, as much as he cared, she was still your child, and her safety and happiness mattered most.

Simon raised an eyebrow as he noticed your state of dress and Adira’s lounging figure. “So, it’s just me and her today?”

You nodded, grabbing your keys. “her classroom is closed for renovations. Figured this would be a good chance for you two to spend some time together.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead Simon seemed to take everything in stride, breathing in deeply, knowing his moment was now.

You couldn’t help but study him for a moment longer, as if reading him for any sign that he was second-guessing himself. But then he smiled at you, it was genuine—reassuring. You had to trust him. You had to let him try.

Walking over to Adira, you knelt beside her, smoothing her hair as you spoke. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna hang out with Simon today, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

Adira’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a tiny pout. “You go?”

“Just for a little while,” you reassured her. “Simon’s going to stay with you, and you’ll have lots of fun. Won’t you?”

Adira looked up at you with those wide, dark eyes, not fully understanding the implications, but offering you a small, shy nod. She then returned her attention to the TV, her little fingers absentmindedly squeezing the fabric of her pillow.

“She’s had her bath, so no worries there,” you swiftly explained, slipping into your role as her mother. “She’s in her onesie because it’s raining today, and for some reason, she loves wearing it on rainy days—I don't understand it but as long as she's happy. There’s food in the fridge, but after a couple of hours, I’d suggest cutting the TV off. Let her color, read, or maybe play with her trains. It gives her eyes a break from the screen. Oh, and rainy days mean pizza. Her favorite place is ‘Mario’s,’ and the number’s on the fridge. She’ll ask for the stuffed crust and extra cheese, light on the sauce.”

Simon absorbed the instructions like a soldier receiving a mission briefing, nodding along as you spoke. His eyes flicked to Adira, who was now idly kicking her feet as she watched the TV, and then back to you. “Got it. Anything else?”

You hesitated for a moment, then let it subside. “Just… be patient with her. She’s still figuring this out. You’re doing great, Simon.”

His lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks.”

You gave him one last glance, scanning for any signs of hesitation or doubt, but his steady demeanor gave you confidence. With a final goodbye to Adira, who waved absently, you headed for the door. With that, you left, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest felt tight, your every nerve on edge as you walked to work. This was Simon’s test, sure, but it was yours too—trusting someone else with the most precious thing in your life. Only time would tell how it would go.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Simon standing awkwardly in the quiet apartment. Adira stayed exactly where she was, her little form cocooned on the couch, eyes glued to the animated animals bouncing across the TV screen. Simon exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck as he took in the moment. This was it. His chance.

He crossed the room and sat down next to her, careful not to invade her space. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick and uncertain. Adira didn’t so much as glance his way, her focus unwavering as the characters on the screen launched into a cheerful song.

Simon cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the air like an awkward ripple. "So, uh," he started, his voice low and unsure, "you like it when it rains?"

Adira finally looked up at him, her big, curious eyes meeting his. She blinked a couple of times, processing his question, before giving a small, shy nod.

"Yeah?" he pressed, a soft smile creeping onto his face. "What’s your favorite thing about it? The sound? Jumping in puddles?"

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she shifted on the couch, pulling her pillow closer as if using it as a shield. Simon waited, giving her time, not wanting to push. Then, as if finding the courage, she mumbled, “The sound.”

“The sound, huh? Me too,” he said, leaning back a bit to ease the tension. “Kinda peaceful, isn’t it? Makes everything... quiet.”

Adira nodded again, this time a little more confidently. Her tiny fingers started to drum on the pillow in her lap, the rhythm mimicking the pitter-patter of raindrops. Simon caught it and grinned.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I used to watch the rain all the time when I was little. Sometimes I’d sit by the window for hours, just listening. My mum always said I’d get stuck there.”

Adira tilted her head at him, her curiosity evident now. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft and a little unsure, as though she wasn’t entirely ready to start talking freely.

Simon chuckled, scratching his chin. “Dunno. Maybe I thought if I stayed there long enough, I’d see something special, like... I dunno, maybe the rain would make magic happen.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the word magic, and Simon felt a small victory bloom in his chest.

“Magic?” she echoed, her tone a mix of skepticism and interest.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, leaning in just a little, like he was about to share a secret. “The kind that only shows up when you’re really, really patient. You gotta look close, though.”

Adira’s gaze darted back to the TV for a moment before returning to him, her guard lowering inch by inch. She hugged her pillow tighter but didn’t turn away.

“Maybe,” she murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear, “maybe I’ll see magic too.”

Simon’s chest tightened, a warmth spreading there that he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, he wasn’t just a stranger in her world; he was someone she was starting to let in.

“Maybe you will,” he said softly, leaning back into the couch. He let the quiet fill the space again, content to sit beside her, waiting for the rain—or the magic—to come.

After a few minutes, Adira reached over to the side table where her sippy cup rested. She grabbed it, then paused, her hand hovering. Slowly, she stretched it out toward him. “Drink?” she offered, her voice small but steady.

Simon blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. It wasn’t much—just a sippy cup of watered-down juice—but it felt monumental. “Thanks, but that’s yours,” he said gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She pulled it back and took a sip herself, nodding like she’d made a grand decision.

Simon chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small step, a tiny opening, and Simon took it as the win it was.

The hours slipped by quietly, the sound of the TV buzzing in the background, and before Simon knew it, the three-hour mark had passed. He glanced at the clock, then at the screen, and with a deep breath, he reached over and clicked the power button.

Adira's eyes widened in shock, her little fingers frozen mid-air as she pointed at the now-black screen. "Why?" she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and mild frustration. "I wanna watch..." Her words trailed off, her pout deepening as she looked back at him, like she couldn’t quite understand why he’d taken it away.

Simon bit his lip, fighting a chuckle. "You’ve been watchin' for a while now, kiddo," he said, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice. "Time to do somethin’ else, yeah?"

Adira stared at him for a long moment, her little brow furrowed as she processed what he’d said. She didn’t seem convinced at first, her gaze darting back to the black screen as if willing it to come back to life. When it didn’t, she crossed her arms over her chest, her lower lip poking out in a full pout.

“I don’t wanna,” she muttered, voice small but firm. It was clear she wasn’t happy with the decision, but Simon had a feeling it was more about the principle of the matter than the TV itself.

“C’mon now,” Simon said softly, trying to soften the blow. “We can do somethin’ fun. How ‘bout we build somethin' together? Or read a book?”

Her little frown deepened, and Simon almost felt bad for turning the TV off. But this was the first time he’d gotten a moment alone with her, and he knew it was important to break the habit, to show her there were other things to do in the world besides the screen.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and the quiet living room. Then, with a small sigh, she uncrossed her arms and stood up, shuffling toward the toy box with little steps, only to find nothing that interested her.

"Books?" she asked, her voice still laced with uncertainty but tinged with the smallest bit of curiosity.

Simon smiled, feeling a wave of relief. “Books it is,” he said, standing up to join her. “I bet we can find somethin’ that’ll be just as fun as that TV show.”

Adira didn’t answer, but the way she grabbed a book off the shelf made Simon’s heart flutter with a tiny spark of victory.

Adira returned to Simon’s side, holding a colorful book with a soft, focused expression on her face. The cover was bright, featuring two foxes—one with a bushy tail and the other a smaller, more timid-looking one. The title, No Matter What, was written in bold letters above them. She climbed up beside him and, without a word, placed the book in his lap, her small hands brushing gently against it as if offering him a treasure.

Simon looked down at the book, caught off guard by her quiet gesture. He glanced at her for a moment, meeting her eyes. She looked at him with a silent kind of expectation, waiting.

Slowly, he picked up the book, holding it carefully as if it were something precious. “What’s this?” he asked softly, though it was clear he already had an inkling.

“Foxes,” Adira replied simply, her voice soft but firm. “Mama read it. It’s ‘bout love.”

Simon’s heart tugged at the mention of you. He could imagine the way you’d read to her, the soothing cadence of your voice, the way Adira had probably snuggled up beside you during the bedtime ritual. But there was something in Adira’s face now, something that felt like an invitation—a little piece of trust she was offering him, too.

“Well, alright then,” Simon said, his voice soft as he began to flip open the book. Adira sat close beside him, her tiny hands still on the cover, watching his every move with an intense focus. She didn’t rush him. The silence between them felt comforting.

He began to read aloud, slowly at first, as if still gauging her reaction. “No matter what, the foxes knew that they would always be together, through the rain or the snow, through the darkest nights and the brightest days.”

Adira shifted beside him, her little legs crossing as she settled into his side. Her small hand reached for the page as he turned it, her fingers brushing over the illustrations. She didn’t interrupt, just quietly absorbed the words.

As Simon read on, his voice grew more confident, and the warmth of the moment started to settle between them. For a fleeting moment, it felt like they had bridged a gap, one word at a time, one page at a time. It wasn’t much, but it was something—something to build on.

Adira’s gaze remained fixed on the book, but her body had relaxed against Simon’s, the way a child does when they feel safe. As the last pages of the book came into view, she snuggled closer, her head resting against his shoulder.

When Simon finished reading, he let the book fall softly onto his lap. He looked down at her, her eyes half-closed, but still aware and trusting. She looked up at him again, her tiny voice soft as she spoke. “Foxes love each other... no matter what.”

Simon’s heart thudded in his chest, the simplicity of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn’t quite sure what it all meant yet, but in that moment, it was enough to see her so close, so willing to share something so personal. A bond had begun to form—fragile, yes, but it was there.

“Yeah,” Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper, “no matter what.”

With the last of the kids sent off and the staff beginning to clean up, you closed up shop, ready to call it a day. But just as you were locking up, a loud clap of thunder rattled the building, causing you to jump in shock. Your heart raced for a moment, the suddenness of it making you freeze in place.

“Jesus, if Adira was here, she’d lose it,” you muttered to yourself, trying to laugh off the shock. But then, your words hit you like a ton of bricks.

If Adira was here.

A chill ran through you as it dawned on you just how careless you’d been. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had completely forgotten to tell Simon about her fear of thunderstorms. She hated them. Hated the loud crashes of thunder, the flashes of lightning. You’d seen her curl up in a ball, her hands over her ears, eyes wide with terror when the storms hit.

The sound of the storm outside was only getting louder, the thunder now booming and crackling as it came closer. You could imagine Adira, sitting there with Simon, eyes wide and full of fear, clutching whatever comfort she could find, and Simon… God, Simon probably didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t have any idea how to handle it.

Without thinking twice, you dropped everything—your bag, your jacket, anything that wasn’t crucial to getting home. You shot a quick look toward the staff, offering a hasty explanation and apology. Then, without another word, you bolted through the doors, past the remaining parents who were still talking in the lobby, and into the rain.

The rain beat down on you as you sprinted through the streets, the cold droplets stinging your skin as the thunder rumbled overhead. You couldn’t focus on anything but getting home. Adira needs me. Adira needs me.The mantra repeated in your head with each pounding step. Your feet splashed through puddles, the air heavy with the scent of wet pavement and the growing tension in your chest.

It felt like forever as you raced through the downpour, but at last, you reached the building, heart hammering in your chest. You fumbled with your keys, every second feeling like an eternity as the thunder rumbled louder, closer. Hurry, you told yourself, voice shaky as you turned the key and shoved the door open.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

The air felt thick, and as you stepped inside, your eyes instantly darted to the living room.

On the couch, Simon was sitting with Adira curled up in his side, wrapped tightly in her favorite blanket. Her little body was nestled against his, her small form practically hidden in the folds of the soft fabric. On the coffee table in front of them were the remnants of their quiet afternoon—plastic plates with pizza stains, her sippy cup placed haphazardly next to the mess. Around them, the stack of books you always read to her was scattered across the table: I Love You to the Moon and Back, The Koala Who Could, What Color is a Kiss?—books that had been a staple in your bedtime routine for as long as you could remember.

The sight of them—Adira calm, safe, resting against Simon—caught you off guard. You’d expected panic, chaos, something more… uncertain. But instead, the two of them looked peaceful. Simon’s hand was gently resting on her back, his other arm loosely around her as she drifted in and out of sleep, her head nestled against his chest. She was calm. And that... that made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected.

You hadn’t expected Simon to be so… natural with her. He’d stepped up in a way you didn’t think was possible, at least not this soon. Maybe you had underestimated him. Maybe—no, you knew—you had underestimated this.

Simon, with Adira, was something real.

Hi so, this took a while, wanted to make this really long for yall. For me as im writing this, it's 5 AM! I've been working on this since 1 PM yesterday. Long Fics are not my strongpoint, I had so much trouble with this because I'm a perfectionist and my tiny brain often repeats words ALOT. I'm working on it and the best way to improve is to keep writing.

As things currently go, I may write shorter things for this family, I want to develop Adira and Simon's relationship more just not with super long stuff like this. I'd also would love to answer any questions or talk about headcanons anyone has about them. Feel free to send asks!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and by the time this goes up I'm sure I'll still be asleep!

P.S can someone tell me if I do tags wrong, like ive noticed sometimes when I tag it doesn't have the little underline so I keep thinking it doesn't go through </3

BIG ASS TAGLIST: @notsochillnerd @xanvasy @nightunite @reyy001 @liliemb04 @doodle-cat16 @wwe1rdc0re @multy-fandom-lover @skylarmitchell @athenianharpy @mxtokko @watu2ka @gifted-aurora @sapphire-jelly26 @janeety @lem-hhn @natdu @honey-teaaaaaaaa @gg-trini @kawaiivanilla-chan @despairinglakepasta @gaida-511 @jayjkay @watersquirtpewpewboomm @nikt-wazny-y @dragon-bubs @thisishwrworld @prettygirlwhoreadsatnite @illusionistlover @just-pure-trash @theliqouricebtch @sullyoung @me-llyssa @drewsuncrustables @phosphoracat @sabrina-senpai @shadowdark00 @imttryi @brokenxintroverted @eevily @aiyaaayei @coffeeandtealol @codcosplayer @scaleniusrm @momoewn @classaysstuff @fancymilkshakewitch @tessakate @a-lil-bit-nuts @beautifuleaglealpaca @vickieesstuff @captainchrisstan @alyyaanna @kaeyasfuturewife @huehuehuehuehehe @allllium @the-number7 @idfkimhereforsmut @katzarantos @tamayakii @7haze @k-bakuhoe @armycaratlover @thecoolestastrophile @montenegroisr @little-b33 @pantheonofbeauty @oooof-ifellforyou @ang3lc @littleracco0n @dravenskye @supaturtl3 @maciswack @carebear209 @bassandlace @3ndar @bespectacledhuman @xshellchenx-blog @astro-stars @avavie @vexillum-moeru @nina-from-317 @gazsluckyhat @1-800-g00ber @yukisdelusional @styx-eclipsed @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @nommingonfood @idkwhattodosooo @noheadcanons-juststories @zaqnette @fluffysmiko @aliciamorov @mageknight-anya @athaliw @princessloveweird @lucypaulette @hikotaru @julesjunimos @xqhro @blushingskulls @foodisbaepinterestislife @thecursebreaker @harperdoodle @taygirl24 @alfie2401 @devoetee @kodokunarisu-blog @lovealwaysserena

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod x reader #call of duty #singlemom!reader #we meet again #sunshine sunni

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dadsbongos · 1 month ago

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hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor… general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all.

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

#viktor smut #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader

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spatialwave · 1 month ago

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.........can I request a smutty part 2 of the jayvik x reader fic 🥺

"my ambition" - part two

pairing: jayvik x fem!reader word count: 1.8k tags: mdni! smut (very explicit and shameless), polyamory, threesome, unprotected sex, dirty talking, doggy style, face riding, vaginal sex, blowjobs, cunnilingus, minor aftercare, no use of y/n. notes: i was in the middle of writing it when this ask came in. you read my mind, lol. i may have rushed it and idk if i love it lots but i tried!! ahhh!! credit: art by @/shuploc & divider by @/cafekitsune <- part 1 | part 3 ->

Two mouths left traces over your body—one tender and soft, the other eager and full of energy. Jayce and Viktor had woven themselves deep into your life, leaving a last imprint on your soul. Those two were everything you could ask for, gentle when you sought comfort and tough when you begged more.

“God,” you trembled as your legs spread, Jayce’s lips trailing down your skin until his tongue met with your folds. Your thighs squeezed on either side of his head, and your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, but the attempt to muffle your sounds didn’t last.

You were leaned back against Viktor, nestled between his legs and resting on his chest. Slender fingers toyed with your breasts, pinching at your nipples in tandem with the way Jayce sucked on your clit. Slow and monotonous, making sure that they could savour the sickly sweet sounds that came from your parted lips.

They loved to torture you. Slow and steady until you were a writhing mess.

“Too much?” Viktor asked, the accent thick on his tongue as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“No,” you lied, squirming your hips, but Jayce’s hands kept you pinned to the bed.

His amber eyes flickered up, watching the way you wriggled from his touch. Lapping at your cunt and tasting the sweet juices that dripped down his chin.

A heat stirred in his belly as he watched Viktor’s experienced hands cradle the swell of your breasts, massaging them and twisting your nipples with his index and thumbs. One of his hands pulled from your hips, meeting where his mouth had been and easily slipping two fingers inside you—wet and inviting.

“Good,” Viktor praised, kissing at your neck. His teeth nipped at your skin, licking where he left tiny bruises, “tell Jayce how well he’s doing.”

You were breathless, your walls clenching around the two digits that plunged in and out of your aching heat. “Good, you feel so good,” you croaked, head tilted to the side as Viktor’s warm breath sent shivers down your spine, tickling your skin, “don’t stop—“

“You heard her, Jayce,” Viktor’s spoke, his voice deep in his throat, “don’t stop.”

Your eager lover pulled back from between your legs and continued to finger you with little remorse for your sensitivity, while Viktor’s finger replaced his tongue on your clit. You could see the lustful look in his eyes, how your wetness brought a shine to his stubble-covered chin. His eyes bored into yours, half-lidded, as his fingers curled just right.

Your head tilted back to rest on Viktor’s shoulder, a cry escaping your lips as your cunt was stretched by the fingers inside you. He kept a gentle rhythm over your swollen clit, whispering sweet nothing's in your ear as both men kept you pleased.

Jayce leaned forward, unable to keep himself from crashing his lips against Viktor’s, the sound of their wet kiss loud in your ear and making you twitch. The man behind you moaned, tasting you on the other’s lips, tongues dancing and sliding together. Savouring the taste and loving each other as much as they loved you.

Tired eyes flickered to them, head tilting to watch the display of passion as a lazy smile sprawled across your lips.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jayce noticed your gaze��utterly fucked out from his fingers.

“Look at her. So fucking beautiful,” he breathed as he pulled away from Viktor, a string is spit connecting their lips. Jayce stopped the rhythmic movements of his fingers, and you whined at the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, but you were unable to make any more sounds when the two digits were pushed between your lips, “taste.”

Viktor shuddered, his cheeks burning red as he watched the way you licked and sucked at Jayce’s fingers until they were clean. His erection was hard against your lower back, aching for some form of stimulation. Anything.

You sucked on the two fingers like it was a show, your tongue wrapping around the length as you took them in fully–easily. Knowing very well that the sight of you was enough to rouse excitement from them both.

“Fuck,” Jayce hissed as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, his cock upright and twitching in anticipation, “On your hands and knees. Now.”

You were slow to obey, which he hadn’t appreciated. A pair of rough hands grabbed at your hips and were quick to lift them up once you had settled into the position.

Meanwhile, Viktor, as gentle as ever, pushed a hand through your hair so it was out of your face. He wore a lopsided smile, looking at you so lovingly, a drastic difference from the way Jayce handled you–and you were so fucking lucky to have both.

“Go on,” Viktor cooed at you knowingly, and you did exactly what he was urging.

Fingers tightened in your hair as your hand flattened against the sheets beneath you, and you dipped down. Your other hand gently held the base of his cock as your tongue licked at the tip where a bead of pre-cum had rested.

Viktor’s eyes rolled back at the mere sight of you.

Jayce’s hands grazed over the globes of your ass, squeezing at the flesh as he pressed against your soaked entrance, teasing. You closed your eyes, focused on wrapping your lips around Viktor’s erection and taking it deep in your throat, swallowing around him with ease.

“You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? So fucking easy for me,” Jayce groaned the vulgar words, watching as his cock disappeared inside you and his fingers squeezed your ass hard enough to leave reddened marks in their wake.

A rugged hum vibrated from your chest, hips shifting as he set up a quick tempo of thrusts that he hadn’t given you any time to prepare for.

“Fuck,” you squealed, Viktor’s cock leaving your lips with a ‘pop’.

His cock pierced deep inside you, rough enough that your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and Viktor leaned forward from the pillows to pepper kisses on your cheeks. A distraction from the waves of pain and pleasure that coursed through your body as you were stretched, a feeling he knew very well.

Jayce groaned, his eyes focused downward and watching the way your cunt tightened around him. Sliding in and out in a quick rhythm that left you white-knuckling the bedsheets beneath your bouncing breasts.

“A perfect little cunt,” he moaned, a hand tight on your hip and the other pushing his hair back as he watched in admiration as you focused your attention on Viktor once more with the little energy you had left. Your head bobbed up and down, swallowing around him as your tongue massaged the underside of his cock–a perfect view for Jayce as he watched the way Viktor’s face twisted in pleasure, an arm resting over his eyes and rosy cheeks.

Both men moaned together, orgasms ramping up quickly.

Viktor gasped, fingers tight in your hair and causing you to whine, “stop–” he warned, teetering on the edge of release sooner than he’d like.

“Let her,” Jayce grunted, whining after a particularly rough snap of his hips, “I’m so fucking close.”

A few beats later, they moaned your name together, the sound sweet to your ears. Swelling your chest with pride and stroking your ego far too much.

Viktor couldn’t stop from bucking deep into your throat, muttering out a quiet apology as he came, honey eyes peeking from under his arm as you swallowed with practiced ease. You pulled away, panting as Jayce thrust inside you one final time, hips jerking as your squeezing cunt milked him.

“You did good,” Viktor murmured under his breath, smiling against your lips as you mewled when Jayce pulled his cock from you. He cupped your cheek, pulling back as his thumb brushed against your cheek, “you can finish now.”

Jayce acted on those words–always having been the one with enough energy to put you two to shame.

He shifted until he was laying on his back beneath you, arms wrapping around your thighs from behind and guiding you with a strong hand on your lower stomach until you were upright. You gasped when his lips connected with your cum-filled cunt, tongue swiping out to flick at your sensitive clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered.

Viktor leaned back against the pillows, watching with tired eyes and a lazy smirk. Much too tired to participate, but more than happy to watch Jayce make a mess of you.

“Jayce,” you whined, your hips rocking as your eyes fluttered shut, and his tongue tasted every inch of you. The pressure of his face against your swollen cunt was all you needed to feel the heat beginning to coil in your abdomen. A high you’d been chasing all night.

Both of his hands trailed along the tops of your thighs, nails raking against your skin. He wanted to do everything for you, to let you feel the pleasure you’d so lovingly provided them with.

His tongue delved deep inside you, and his nose brushed at your clit simultaneously; after a few more rolls of your hips at the perfect angle… you were there.

You cried out his name, your voice cracking as your body shuddered, and you chased the high by gripping your hands in his hair and grinding against him like he was nothing more than just a toy for your pleasure. Jayce kept up with your needs, his chin pushing up so he could fuck you better with his tongue, easing you through the orgasm that had you gasping for air.

You whined as you fell forward when the orgasm reached its height, hips violently twitching as you forced yourself away from Jayce’s mouth and crawled into Viktor’s inviting arms and laid atop him. A whimpering mess that was calmed by gentle caresses and fingers trailing up and down your spine.

A low chuckle bubbled up from Jayce’s chest as he wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand, moving until he was collapsed onto the pillows next to you both.

“I’m spent,” he groaned, pulling the blankets over the three of you.

“You’re spent?” you sighed, “I’m the one who’s going to be sore for a week.”

“And yet, you are the one who begged us all night for this,” Viktor chimed in, a curious look in his eyes as he watched you. The fingers that were on your spine had found your hair, twirling it in his fingers, “I’m joking. Mostly.”

A giggle left your lips as you looked between your lovers, two sets of amber eyes that always made you shy.

“I know. I’m the worst, aren’t I?” You mumbled, sleep creeping up as you felt Jayce roll onto his side and toss an arm over your waist, his face pressed against Viktor’s shoulder as he fell asleep almost instantly.

“Mhm,” Viktor hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head, “terribly so.”

#arcane fanfic #viktor x reader #jayce talis x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #jayce talis #viktor arcane #am i cooked for writing two fanfics in one day #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers #jayce talis x you #viktor x you

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mywritersmind · 4 months ago

Text

GO OUT WITH ME - LN4

summary : Lando doesn’t beg. But when it comes to y/n, he can’t help it.

listen up : nothing big to note! just cuteness

word count : 945

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Go out with me.” He says for the third time today, watching me swipe on my strawberry lip gloss. I pocket the bottle into my jeans pocket, crossing my arms over my black vest. I look to Lando who’s behind me in his papaya suit.

“Could you please stop bothering my friend?” Oscar says, sitting on a stool in his own driver's room.

“I will if she says yes.” He looks at me with big blue eyes, smiling. Too bad I have to crush his dreams.

“No.” I shrug and look back to my childhood best friend.

“Why are you even here, Lan?” Oscar leans his head back against the wall.

“What do you mean? I love hanging out with my bestie!” He stands, messing with Oscar’s hair. I laugh a bit and his face lights up, “Go out with me.”

“Goodbye Lando!” Oscar pushes him out the door and slams it in his face. “You know he will stop if you ask him, right?”

I look at my manicure, sighing, “Yeah, I know.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando won. I go to a race to watch Oscar and everywhere I turn, Landos face is being projected onto some screen. I was there in Miami and now I'm here in the Netherlands.

I’m leaving the paddock when I literally run into the man. I told you he’s everywhere!

He’s smiling like I've never seen before, sweaty and laughing before he looks up at me, “Shit, Y/n! I’m sorry.”

“No problem.” I shake my head, “Congrats, by the way.” He bites his lip, his suit unzipped and water bottle in hand.

“Thanks! You must be a good luck charm.” he winks and I'm thoroughly reminded how attractive he is. I won’t go out with him but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him.

“You going out to celebrate?” He’s walking with me through the hall.

“Nah I want fast food and a movie.” He shakes his head, a curl falling onto his forehead. “Join me?”

“Bye, Norris.” I walk out the door.

I can practically hear the smile in his sweet accent, “See you later, Y/l/n.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I knock on Oscar’s door repeatedly, “Open up, Idiot!”

No reply.

My stupid best friend hasn’t responded to me all night, we had plans for me to cheer him up after his crappy race but he’s totally ditching me!

“That’s my room.” I freeze when he speaks. The British accent is one that I will not confuse with Oscars.

I slowly turn to Lando, “Oh.”

“Any reason you’ve come for a visit?” He holds a bucket of ice and a dutch chocolate bar. “Change your mind about the date?”

I pull my lips into a thin line, “No! I’m looking for Oscar.”

He walks closer to me, “We switched rooms. He's a level down.”

“Shit.” I roll my eyes, “You think he’s asleep?”

“Definitely. Seemed wiped after today.” He shrugs and eyes the bag I'm holding.

I was supposed to cheer him up after a crappy race, I bought all the Australian treats I could find, “Great.” I sigh. ”He’s leaving tomorrow morning so now I’m stuck with all these snacks.”

“Snacks?” Lando almost laughs, “Poor you, stuck with food.”

“Australian snacks! We were supposed to watch ‘How to lose a guy in ten days’ and he was supposed to complain about it!” I frown, I don’t get to see Oscar often even though he’s just come from break, I barely saw him.

Lando unlocks his room, “I’m sorry. I’d invite you in but I'm assuming you’d say no.”

“Lando Norris… Are you giving up?”

His head shoots up when I say it, “No! I’m respecting your wishes.” He opens the door and walks in, clearly waiting for me to make my decision.

I push past him and jump the snacks onto his bed, “Oscar told me you don’t like tim tams.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

An hour later I find myself watching Oscar and I’s movie with Lando. He’s actually really funny, and genuinely thinks this movie is hilarious.

I’m caught looking at him, “Everything okay?”

I nod slowly, pretending like I wasn’t just examining his face, “Can I ask you something?” He nods, “If I said yes… to a proper date- what would you do?”

He smiles, “Probably jump for joy, if i’m being honest.”

I roll my eyes.

“You know I don’t just ask you out on some whim right?“ He’s being serious. “I like you. I want to get to know you more.” He says it so casually but I can tell he’s nervous.

I can’t breathe, “More than just Oscar's friend?”

Lando shakes his head, toying with a candy in his hand, “You’ve always been more than Oscar's friend.”

“Then, yes.” I’m certain this time.

“Yes?”

“Yes i’ll go out with you.”

He blinks.

“You better not be joking.”

“I’m not!” I laugh and he puts his head into his hands, “Lando!”

“I knew you’d come around!” He points at me before pausing again, “This isn’t some pity thing, right? Just because I’m alone after I won doesn’t mean I’m all sad or something!”

“Lando.” I try but he keeps going.

“I did win, after all! And I don’t want you to say yes because of that either because it’s cool and all but I am more than a win also I swear I have other friends besides Os-”

“Lando!” I laugh and grab his face. He stops speaking, “I want to go out with you. Because you’re you.”

I can feel his heart beating, “That’s good.”

“Very good.” I agree. His smile hits me once more and I match it, “You’re cute.”

“I think I'm dreaming.”

note : race was TOUGHHH today😭 had to write smt happy to cope. loved it for charles tho can’t lie! hope you enjoy!

#fanfic #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando imagine

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majestyeverlasting · 5 months ago

Text

the moments in between

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Joel and Ellie arrive at the Jackson commune, his strong frame and intense gaze captivate you. But as the days pass, you lose hope that he might be drawn to you as well. That is, until the walls come crashing down and the truth finally reveals itself.

Word Count: 7.3k [slow burn]

A/N: I put a lot of love and time into this one. It's my longest fic so far but it didn't feel hard, which I like to believe is a good thing. Hope it resonates, hope you feel the feels and the yearning between these two—let me know! Hope you're well.

A breeze follows Tommy as he saunters in through the doors of the Tipsy Bison, the soft click of his boot heels echoing off the wood with each easy step. The cowboy hat on his head casts a shadow over his eyes until he takes it off, his dark hair cascading down over his ears. There’s a small smile playing on his lips that makes you narrow your eyes.

Cleaning the bartop suddenly loses its appeal, but you don’t stop, only slow down. The fresh, tangy scent of lemongrass continues to waft up from the motion.

“We close early on Sunday’s, officer,” you tease as he climbs onto a stool.

He frowns as he sets his hat aside. “I don’t look like a cop, do I?” You shrug, and he chuckles as his gaze roves over to the pool room. “Nate back there? Yo, Nate!”

“Evening, Tom,” the older man calls back as he polishes a cue ball.

“Joel’s made it into town.” There’s no overt emotion in the way he shares the news, but you can see that it’s all in his eyes as he waits for you to react.

“Joel, Joel? As in your brother?” He nods, still in disbelief himself. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Tommy—right? What the heck.” He used to talk about him all the time.

His exhale makes way for a shaky smile, “I know. Made it in not too long ago with a young girl he’s looking after,” he tells you, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “He’s outside. Wanted to come in and see if you’d let us grab a drink.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Know it’s late. Promise I’ll make up for the trouble.” He knows it’s no trouble. Not when it comes to him.

He turns around, barstool squeaking, and waves Joel in through the window.

You move to start working on their whiskies. “Make it up by letting me be the baby’s godmother?” The glasses clink as you set them onto the bar and begin pouring the caramel colored liquid, smirking when you meet his gaze.

Tommy isn’t completely opposed to the idea. You’d been in Jackson since the beginning, a friend to him and Maria in every sense of the word. Arguably family. “If you can manage not to tick me off until the little one gets here.” Despite his words, his eyes are fond.

The door creaks open, and Joel strides in, scanning the room. There are pictures on the walls of American icons and landmarks, and old Polaroids of commune members. There’s a guarded confidence to the way he walks, an intensity.

Tommy quickly leans in and whispers, “He means well. It’s been a long day.”

Joel takes a seat beside his brother and acknowledges you with a curt nod, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Welcome to Jackson,” you greet, introducing yourself afterwards.

“Joel,” he says, taking you in with a steady gaze.

“Tommy’s told me a lot about you.” You push their glasses closer to them in an encouragement to start drinking.

Joel takes his first sip and fights back a reflexive grimace. It’s been a while, but it's good. Good enough to make him feel pleasantly warm as it glides down. Tommy drinks off his brother’s lead, and you realize just how alike they look. Joel’s hair is a little shorter and accented with streaks of gray, but they both have those same dark, telling eyes.

They fall into light conversation, but it’s clearly not what they'd talk about if they were alone. That’s when you sense the distance. The slight edge to the space between them. It’s why Tommy resorts to drawing you in, the two of you ripping off each other as Joel listens, fine with not having to speak until this whole little ordeal was winding to an end. However, he does sit up a little straighter whenever you laugh. You pour them more whiskey when their glasses get empty.

Eventually, the remaining light outside fades away. Tommy hisses at the sight, standing. “I gotta get home to Maria,” he says, stretching his back. Joel moves to get up too, until, “At least finish off this glass, man. You’ve earned it.” Tommy squeezes his brother’s shoulder. He means it genuinely, at least. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Joel. Thanks again for this,” he tells you.

“Bye, sheriff,” you call after him. Tommy scoffs.

Joel realizes just how quiet it is when you move aside to tinker with a bison trinket sitting on the counter, unsure of what to say with Tommy gone. He knows you can see him looking at you. “So, are you here by yourself?” he finally asks.

A playful smile tugs at your lips. “That’s not a creepy question at all,” you tease, quickly gathering that he doesn’t find the implication funny. “Uncle Nate?” you call.

“Busy!”

You raise your brows at Joel. “Not alone.”

Nate was chosen family. The man taught you everything you know about shooting, fishing, and survival even though you gave him a hard time for it when you were younger. He was also the founder of the Tipsy Bison. He only came into the bar on the weekends when he wasn't on patrol. His time in the military all those years ago made it hard to step away from a life of service.

“We were cleaning when Tommy came in,” you tell Joel. He takes in that information wordlessly.

“You aren’t much for talking, are you?” Joel takes a sip from his glass. “Nothing wrong with that. Must mean you don’t miss much. Really observant.” When he doesn’t respond, you smile shyly, realizing he probably just wanted to relax after a long day. “Guess I won’t stand here and talk your ears off.”

The floor creaks as you disappear into the recreation room with Nate, rounding the corner. Joel exhales, shoulders dropping from being drawn up. He almost misses your company.

Nate sits hunched over a word search puzzle, using the pool table as if it's a normal desk. He doesn’t look up at you, even when you give an affectionate tug to his curly gray ponytail. It was something you’d been doing since the days you both were out on your own and had to stay quiet all the time. Back when there was no safety, no security, no commune.

“Ouch,” he drones, unphased.

“Are you gonna come out and meet Tommy's brother?” you ask, low so Joel can’t hear. “I feel like you guys have a lot in common: brooding and grumpy.” Pride flutters in your chest when the man’s lips twitch.

“I’ll meet him… eventually. Gotta finish this puzzle.” You realize there’s a small hourglasses going, the sand swiftly filling the bottom portion. “There ya are—serendipity.” He circles the letters.

Word searches were something he recently started doing. When you have a past as extensive as his, it’s always chasing after you in one way or another. Especially in those quiet moments that sneak up on you. He claimed that seeking out words from amid an ordered chaos keeps the racing thoughts at bay whenever they come rushing in.

Joel is finished by the time you join him again, and you realize he’d waited instead of calling out. Already standing, ready to go.

“Anything else I can get you?”

He shakes his head. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

Joel turns to leave but you keep talking, “So I reckon Tommy already squared you away with a house and a tour of the town?”

He stops. “I’m across the street from him. Gettin’ the tour tomorrow.”

“That’s great, I’m really glad you found us.” You sound so genuine that there’s a flutter in his gut. “We’re a pretty crazy bunch, but I think you’re gonna like it here.”

“Hope so.” Those are the words he leaves you with.

Your eyes stay trained on his back as he makes his way towards the door, stride the same as when he first arrived. Perhaps a little looser. Before he exits the bar, his eyes catch a glimpse of one of the decorative license plates secured to the wall: Austin, Texas.

Shortly after he makes it outside, his heart rate ticks up in that impending way he wishes wasn’t so familiar, breath catching in his throat as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. There’s no escaping the panic as it sets in, surging through him. A few staggering steps allow him to brace a hand on a wooden directory board.

You see it all from inside. At first, you think he’s trying to read the sign, but then he hunches over more and grips his chest. Without thinking, you jog towards the doors.

“Joel?” You call once you’ve broken outside.

It’s a cool spring night, a crescent moon shares its pale glow from above. Most of Jackson is already tucked away inside or at least halfway there. But in this sliver of time, it feels like it’s just the two of you outside. Joel doesn’t let on that he’d heard you, but the moment you’re close enough, you recognize what’s going on. You press your palm to his back to let him know you’re there. That he’s still here.

“Concentrate on your breathing. In and out, just like that,” you encourage, settling on rubbing his back in measured passes. Then you go quiet on the off chance he needs that.

In your newfound silence, Joel is forced to focus on the shaky breaths rising from his lungs. That’s when he accepts he’s not in control. Not in the grand scheme of things. There’s a whole big fallen world just outside the gates of this haven. A world that had taken people he loved and was cruel enough to let him be the one who lived to tell the tale. The heat that rises to his cheeks is made up of frustration more than distress, crackling like pop. Like coals.

The ground takes on a vignette as he stares at it, his vision briefly closes in. You never withdraw your touch.

When his breaths eventually begin to steady, you remember how to breathe yourself. With a tired exhale, he straightens back up to his full height, and you take a few small steps away. Maybe this wasn’t new, but a fact of life for the man who’d rode into Jackson in an air of mystery and a young girl by his side. Maybe he never wanted you to get a glimpse at this side of him. If he feels that way, he doesn’t make it obvious. He almost looks appreciative that you’d bothered enough to care.

“Sorry to scare you,” he rasps, not meeting your gaze even though he can feel it. You want to tell him that there isn’t much that scares you anymore. At least that’s what you like to believe. “I’m usually alone.”

Except, tonight, he wasn’t. And maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.

•••

Howdy Stranger

This is Jackson Hole

The last of the Old West

Joel reads the painted wooden sign as Tommy and Maria show him and Ellie around. There are people everywhere. Children playing outside, adults fluttering in and out of shops. All while the Teton mountains loom and watch over it all with their snow-capped peaks. He looks over at the girl when she nudges his arm, pointing to a Calico lounging on a porch. Despite her beaming smile, all he offers is a low hum.

It was hard to be in the now when his thoughts were split between the past and future. Up until Jackson, there was no such thing as stability, and he couldn’t help but think about the day that the rug would be pulled from beneath the commune as well. Ellie’s smile fades when she notices the harsh squint of his face. He kicks himself for it.

“Cat hater,” she mumbles under her breath.

Joel grunts and directs his attention back to his brother.

When the tour comes to an inevitable end, Ellie sings Jackson’s praises after Tommy and Maria go their separate ways with a promise to reconnect later that day. He lets her talk as they make their way back to their new house, idly agreeing every once in a while. A few curious eyes fall on them as they walk, but Joel doesn’t pay them any mind.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Ellie stops walking to give him a flat look.

“I hear you,” he insists. “Been hearing you for the past ten minutes.”

There’s no snark in his tone, but Ellie still feels the slight sting of offense. “Well, sorry for being excited about having a nice place to live for once. It’s not like I was born into hell or anything—I mean the Boston QZ.” Sarcasm drips from her voice as she starts walking again, faster so it looks like they’re not together.

Joel swallows down guilt like it’s just another pill. His legs are long, so it doesn’t take much to catch back up with her.

“Hey…Kid…Ellie.” She keeps ignoring him. “This is new for me too, okay? Everybody’s got a different way of processing, can we agree on that?” It’s a fair enough proposal. He never had been forward when it came to sharing his thoughts. “Wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, deciding to take a break from her rambling for his sake. The mutual silence isn’t so bad.

Someone he isn’t expecting to see is you. You’re wearing a backpack and ushering a line of young kids into the community center. One of the little girls stops and stretches her arms up towards you, earning a playful eyeroll before being lifted onto your hip. Joel doesn’t miss the way the afternoon sunlight catches your face.

•••

The next day, a faint thump against the door startles Ellie as she sketches in the dining room. Rather than getting up from the table, she remains still, pencil in hand and brows furrowed. Upstairs, the spray of the shower continues as Joel lets it drown out everything else. Three light knocks eventually sound, and she musters up the courage to scurry to the front.

She peeks out the window first, spotting you. Someone she hadn’t seen around. An amused smile pulls at her lips at the way you’ve seemingly wrestled the big basket you’re holding into a better grip than before.

When she opens the door, you let out a relieved sigh. “Special delivery,” you say before introducing yourself.

“That’s a really pretty name,” she compliments, already warming up to you. “I’m Ellie—is all that stuff for us?” When you nod, she excitedly steps aside and ushers you in.

“I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have because that’d be a lie,” she shamelessly admits. “You can put it right over here.” You follow her into the living room and place the welcome basket on the coffee table.

A few of the ladies you volunteer with helped you put it together after your shift counseling for the spring break camp. There were cookies, seeds, natural soaps, feminine hygiene products, and even a knit blanket that looked particularly soft and cozy. Ellie wastes no time reaching out to run her fingers over it. A laugh bubbles up your throat when her jaw drops.

“This is literally what clouds feel like.” She haphazardly pulls the blanket out the basket, wrapping it around herself like a cape. “If Joel says anything, this was specifically included for me.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to share if he asked nicely,” you reason, amused. Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “But to be fair, we did think you’d be the one to really appreciate it.”

She smiles at being considered. “Who made it? This is, like, next level.”

“A woman named Emilia,” you tell her. “She actually made me one back when Jackson was first being built up that I still have,” you tell her, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. The evening sunlight pours in through the windows, casting golden streaks onto the floors. “Now she’s always got a few on standby.”

Ellie sits beside you, reaching out to dig through the other contents in awe. “They told us the commune's only, like, seven years old on our tour yesterday,” she recounts. Think you’ll have your blanket forever?”

“Forever’s an awful long time. It might hold up,” you think aloud. Ellie nods, contemplative. “I can take you by to meet her sometime, if you’d like. She’s the resident seamstress, so you’ll probably end up crossing paths anyways.”

“What about you? What do you do?” she asks, giving you her full attention.

“I mainly help coordinate community events. Been stepping in to assist with the youth spring break camp for the last couple days, though,” you say. “Also bartend on the nights that I feel like it. Just for fun, you know?”

Ellie's face lights up. “I’ve had whiskey before.” She puffs out her chest when she says it, and you play into her pride by raising an impressed brow. The first and last time you had a sip was when you snuck it from Nate as a teen. “But that’s really cool, though. The community stuff and all that.” You can tell by her tone that she means it. In more ways than one, you’re reminded of your younger self.

“Joel’s gonna join the patrol. He says I’m too young, but that’s just bullshit.” She says the last part lower as if he’s somewhere listening. “I’ll figure out a way to make him cave.” There’s an air of confidence to her voice that suggests she’s done it before. The thought warms a tiny portion of your chest.

“I’ve gone out with my uncle Nate a few times. It can be a lot,” you admit. “He just wants you safe, Nate’s the same way.”

As Joel stops at the top of the staircase, freshly showered, he catches those last words. He’d know your voice even if it’d been forever. His footsteps are quiet as he descends the stairs, but you hear him coming nevertheless. Ellie’s too busy sniffing the pine soap as you straighten up and glance his way. Joel’s eyes are as observant as you remember when they land on you, seeing into you, it seems. His damp hair is combed back in a way that makes him look more distinguished.

“There you are.” You stand up with a smile. You’d been wondering how he was doing since the panic attack.

He wishes your warmth wasn't so compelling.

Ellie whips around to look at him. “I know you said not to open the door to strangers—which is practically everybody at this point—but she’s really nice and brought us gifts so you can’t be mad at me,” she rushes out. He clocks the blanket around her shoulders.

He hmphs. “That’s how they get you.” He’s not being serious, but Ellie frowns, trying to read through his eternal poker face. “Treats and a friendly smile.” Your lips twitch in amusement as Ellie narrows her eyes.

When Joel starts walking your way, she consoles herself with the fact that he would've already asked you to leave if he sensed your intentions were off. The commune wasn’t filled with questionable people like that anyways. The two of them didn’t have to be apprehensive of every soul they came across anymore.

He’s close enough now that you can smell the cedar soap on his skin. “I’m not a stranger,” you lightly defend. “Not entirely.” You look from Ellie to Joel.

A wall rises in real time, shutting you out right along with the night you met. It happens in his eyes just like everything does. He hadn’t mentioned you to her, and it was your mistake for believing he would’ve at least passed on a name.

You swallow back a small lump in your throat that may not be entirely just. “Anyways, hopefully you guys will be able to put this stuff to use.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie pipes up. “Are you leaving already?” She hadn’t missed the finality that had crept into your tone.

You nod. “Don’t wanna take up too much of your evening. I actually meant to come by sooner.”

“Well, are you going to the dining hall for dinner?” Her gaze flicks to Joel. “Maybe you can come with us.”

Joel knows he’s in trouble when he hears the fondness in Ellie’s voice. It’s the same sentiment he was straining to tamper down within himself. Every time he opened his mouth or looked at you, it tried to claw its way to the forefront. The last thing he needed was another person getting close enough to see that he was a million tiny pieces being held together by the glue of whatever god was keeping him alive.

You decline her invitation, expressing plans to go to your uncle’s place. But you give her a rain check. When you go to leave, Joel allows his eyes to flitter down the rest of your body.

That wouldn’t be the last he saw of you. But it was always from afar, lingering on the outskirts. Wishing there was a seamless way he could fall into your orbit without sending everything spiraling out of control.

You were always looking right back at him with hope in your eyes, holding space. Waiting for your world to be shaken.

•••

Laughter, chatter, and music drown out the insects that usually take precedence at night. Weeks of planning had finally come into fruition. All of Main Street is lined with fairy lights that cast their warm glow down on the summer festival. There was no shortage of entertainment, games, and food. It was a time to let loose and relish the sweetness in the air along with that of life.

Nate plays his harmonica for a group of children around the bonfire, all clapping and stomping along. A smile graces your face as you walk by, waving at him. The fullness of your heart almost overrides the ache that has settled in the arches of your feet. You’d barely sitten down since earlier that morning when preparation began. There was a sense of responsibility that came along with the orange vest you were dawned in. The pressure to assist, and guide, and answer questions wasn’t all on you, but the other volunteers were better at taking breaks.

Tommy’s grainy voice breaks into the air through a megaphone, “Thirteen-and-up three-legged races starting in five minutes, this is your last call. Grab a partner and make your way over to the east lawn,” he says. “Again, this is the last call.”

Joel and Ellie already happen to be seated at a picnic table that gives them a perfect view of the race setup and Tommy facilitating in an orange vest of his own. Ellie had already worked through her first honey cake and was eyeing Joel’s. He pretends not to notice until she looks up at him all wide-eyed.

“Can I—” he slides his plate over to her. “Thanks.”

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,” he lightly accuses, shaking his head.

“What does that even mean?” She takes a bite. “Weirdo.”

Joel just grumbles and tosses a napkin her way. She wipes her mouth and keeps staring at him. Not because she’s waiting for an answer, but because there’s amusement sparkling in his eyes. Which happens more often now that they’d had a couple months to settle into Jackson. A laugh was coming, she could feel it.

“Quit gawking at me and eat.” There’s a tell-tale waver in his voice.

“No.” Ellie lightly kicks his shin beneath the table and that’s what sets him off.

He tries to bite back a chuckle, but he gives in when it doesn’t work out, shoulders shaking. Ellie starts grinning at him from across the table, and he kicks her back with the tip of his boot.

“Hey!” She breaks into giggles and retaliates. He lets her have the little victory.

A small smile lingers on his face when he regains his composure. They sit in a comfortable silence as Ellie finishes the rest of her dessert, taking in the festivities around them.

It isn’t long before a girl with dark hair approaches their table. She’s a ball of masked nerves. “Hi,” she greets. “Ellie, right?” She says it as if it’s possible for her to have forgotten. As if after they sat together at last week’s movie night, she hadn’t been thinking about her since.

Ellie get’s uncharacteristically squirmy. “Oh. Hey, Dina.”

Joel can’t believe it.

Dina tucks a flyaway behind her ear. “My old partner bailed, so I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna do the three-legged race with me. I think we’d make a better team anyways.” Then she glances at Joel. “If you wouldn’t mind me stealing her away for a bit.”

“Take her,” Joel quips, making Dina laugh.

Warmth rushes to Ellie’s cheeks as she stands. “Sure, let’s go.”

The two of them jog over to get prepped for the race. Joel watches the whole while, warmth kindling in his chest at the fact that she was slowly finding her tribe. The race doesn’t start for another couple minutes, and when it does, Ellie and Dina burst off into first. It’s intense. The whole ordeal is a mess of laughter, stumbling, and flailing limbs. In the end, the duo end up placing second, crossing the finish line only to fall into a heap of giggles with their legs tied together.

Joel stands from the picnic table with a grunt to throw away all the empty plates. He has every intention to sit back down, but notices a few frazzled volunteers carrying mops and towels. Then his eyes rove over to the long line standing at the drink stands. Adults check their watches, children fidget. A woman in an orange vest is talking to another woman managing the stand. He doesn’t realize is you until you turn away from her and beeline towards the community center, looking stressed.

“Hey,” he calls out to a stout man wearing an apron. “Do you know what’s going on?”

He’s surprised Joel caught on. Everyone else was carrying on as usual, carefree and unaware. “There was a spill at the community center. You know Mr. Robertson’s special Summer Fest punch?” he asks in a thick Brooklyn accent, Joel nods because he’d heard the rave. Apparently it was made especially for the festival. “Kitchen’s flooded with it. I didn’t have time to build an ark,” he jokes.

Joel wrestles with himself. “I’ll go see if I can help.”

By the time you exit the community center, gaze fixed over your shoulder, you crash into Joel. He instinctively reaches out to steady you, touch firm but gentle. “Whoa, easy there.” The low timbre of his drawl is enough to draw your mind away from all the noise. “You alright? Here, let’s get out of the way.” You let him pull you aside by your elbow.

When you look into his eyes, there’s so many things you wish it was the appropriate time to say. It’s been cordial between the two of you, but it always seemed like he was in a constant state of backing away, like an animal scared of giving into a primal craving.

There was always a reason why he couldn’t stay in your presence longer than he did. He had to get back to Ellie, or turn in early for his patrol shift the next day, or some other excuse. Even during the game nights you hosted, he would always leave before his belly was full and the real fun was about to begin. When everyone was finally free of the day’s worries and truly ready to talk, laugh, and let everything ride on the toss of a dice.

He’d resigned himself to enjoying you in the little here and there, the moments in between. So much so that even Ellie had begun to notice. It was in the way he never allowed himself to lean in too close whenever you were at his side. Or never fully crawled out of his shell no matter how many times you smiled sweetly or let your fingertips brush his forearm.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks more intently. As he scans you over, he notices your clothes. The lower portion of your vest and the thighs of your flared jeans are stained with a wet, dark substance.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You pull away from him with more force than necessary, feeling guilty for the way he swallows and takes a step back. “Sorry.” You release a heavy exhale, tears welling in your eyes with a dull sting. “I’m ruining everyone’s night.”

Joel frowns. “No you’re not. Tell me what happened.”

“I was trying to transfer the extra beverage dispenser onto the wagon so I could wheel it out to the drink stand, but it slipped out of my grip,” you explain. “The lid came off and the punch spilled everywhere.” You wipe your tears away quickly, as if they’ll stain too.

“Accidents happen,” Joel’s tone is steady like scripture, tenderness peeking through just enough to cling onto. “Everybody’s fine. The world's still turning.”

Nobody had reacted in an extreme manner. There were gasps and startled jumps, but assurances came rushing in as the janitorial volunteers insisted that they’d get everything cleaned up. Everyone in that kitchen knew that there were worse things in life than spilled juice. Sure, it was upsetting, considering the time Mr. Robertson spent and the people looking forward to drinking more, but it was a small mistake in the grand scheme of things. But when your heart is already heavy and your mind is tangled with other concerns, those little mishaps feel like the most devastating ones.

There was a directness about Joel, though, that eased away the guilt crawling beneath your skin. It was like he understood what screwing up truly was and this was many light years from it.

Dina spots Joel in the distance and points him out to Ellie. “There he is over there.”

Their smiles fall from their faces when they get closer and realize you’re crying. “Holy shit, what happened?” Ellie looks between you and Joel, worry etched onto her face.

“I just made a stupid mistake.” You sniffle, trying to regain your composure, not wanting to worry them. There was always something unavoidably daunting about seeing adults cry.

“You girls stay here with her for a second. I’ll be right back,” Joel instructs.

A new song starts up by the live band that’s playing. It’s an instrumental rendition of Every Breath You Take. A decent crowd has gathered, nibbling on sourdough and nodding to the melody. Some people are wrapped in each other’s arms. Joel soaks it all in as he navigates back to the racing lawn.

Tommy claps him on the back when he makes it and Joel returns the gesture. “You enjoying yourself, man?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” he says distractedly. “There was a spill at the community center, so no more punch. You think you can get everybody on the same page?”

“Copy that.”

Tommy’s voice carries through the megaphone as Joel makes his way back to you, the announcement fading with each step.

“Howdy, folks. Some of you may have already heard, but in case you haven’t, there’s been a little spill and we are unfortunately all out of Mr. Robertson’s world famous punch for the night. We apologize if you didn’t get the chance to try it, but I promise we’ll figure out a way to make it up to y'all. In the meantime, I heard the lemonade and ice tea ain’t half bad.”

His words blur into the background as Joel makes it back to you. There are a few disappointed groans, but nobody is completely devastated by the news. They keep carrying on just as he knew they would.

Tears no longer streak your face when Joel makes it back, Ellie and Dina seeming to have lifted your spirits a little more.

“Do you wanna go get cleaned up?” Joel suggests.

Now that you’re thinking about it, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin is beginning to grow uncomfortable. You take a deep breath at the thought of walking home, away from Summer Fest, all the energy, all the fun. Joel sees the disappointment on your face.

“I can go with you,” he offers.

•••

The walk to your house is quiet, the sounds of the night's festivities now distant. The porch steps creak gently under your weight as the two of you ascend them. Joel watches as you unlock the door, but finds himself cemented as you step inside. Confusion, appreciation, frustration, and want are all amalgamated into one look directed right his way. Without saying a word, you head further inside, leaving the door open.

Joel’s hands twitch at his sides like he’s a live wire wrought with energy. Bugs would fly in if he didn’t do something—that’s the justification he creates. You’re halfway to the laundry room when you hear the front door shut behind him as he follows after you.

The living room is illuminated by dim lamplight as he walks through. A quick glance into the kitchen gives him sight of one of Ellie’s more recent drawings stuck to the refrigerator door with a smiley face magnet. It's a portrait of your face that you agreed to sit for one lazy afternoon while Joel was away on patrol.

The air smells like you. Understated and sweet, floral and earthen. Small plants line multiple windowsills despite how convinced you were that you couldn’t keep anything alive. The whole commune would be worse off without you and he’d be the first to wilter away.

At the sound of a zipper and clothes brushing against skin, he stops his pursuit of you. Miles away even though you’re mere yards apart. All he has is your shadow, dancing in the dim light pooling out of the laundry room and into the hall with him. He backs himself into the cool wall and closes his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Up and down and up again. An SOS in the middle of a sea when salvation was right within reach. It gets quiet after a while. No more running water, or cabinet doors, or shuffling around.

“You can let me in, you know?” comes your voice, so light it’s almost nothing. Joel releases a shaky breath and opens his eyes to the sight of you, dawned in old shorts and a graphic tee. You wish he would say something, anything. Share a fraction of what’s going on in his mind. “I’m right here, Joel.”

“I know. I see you.” There’s a defensive edge to his voice that’s wounded around the edges, as if he’s trying to accommodate the truth that burns within his ribcage, his stomach, beneath the entirety of his skin.

“So now what?” You swallow your nerves, studying his face, his neck. “We’re just gonna keep seeing each other for the rest of our lives and that’s it? No knowing, no feeling, no experiencing?” You ask. “No loving?”

One by one, the walls close in, until it feels like you’re standing toe to toe with nothing but words as weapons and honesty being the only way out. It’s not a fight he’s ready for. He can trek through the harshest winters, fight off monsters and all manner of men, but he’s defenseless in front of you.

There will be no victory, no rising from battle with a bloodied fist or blade, or immediate relief akin to the coming of spring. The only way out is to dig within, and he already knew what resided there. It was a matter of carving it out and laying it on an altar for you to see as you did the same. It’s not a fight at all, it's a sacrifice. All risk with probable reward.

“I don’t want that to be all that we do.” You’ve never heard Joel speak so quietly. It’s as if there’s Infected lurking nearby and he doesn’t want to be devoured. “Think about you too much.”

“I was starting to think you didn’t like me at all. Not like how I like you,” you say.

Joel swallows thickly, warm all over. “How do you like me?”

You push out of the laundry room doorway to step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, the beating of his heart. You let it thrum against your palm until a shallow breath slips past his lips, then you move to cup his stubbled jaw, lightly brushing your thumb over his lower lip. The urge to touch you back grows so great that he finally gives in and lets both of his strong hands settle on your waist.

Joel can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he leans in towards you, studying your face, searching for any sign that this might be some elaborate ruse. Instead, he finds something so poignant that he doesn’t have the words to define. It’s as terrifying as it is wonderful to, for once, be unable to size up what he’s up against.

You close the space in between you with a softness that takes his breath away. Bared heart meeting bared heart. Joel’s lips are gentle and unhurried, every second savored and not a single one missed. You try to focus but it feels like you’re falling and flying all at once. Then his fingers dig into your waist a little harder, a silent plea to stay there with him, the warmth of his kiss, the firmness of his body as he pulls you closer.

Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to play with the hair curled at his nape. The kiss deepens not in urgency but a shared understanding. A promise sealed in the way your bodies fit together. And then, slowly, deliberately, Joel eases back, lips lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer until there’s a slight space in between again. Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours, thumb stroking tender circles on your waist.

When you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, wondering if you can feel that two worlds having converged into one, buzzing with a newness that’s as beautiful as all the words you’d kept bottled inside.

•••

It hadn’t taken much. Just a hug and a few soft kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw. When Joel’s grumbling finally subsided, it made way for the soothing ripple of the river. You’d settled along the bank and stretched out a few blankets when you first arrived. An hour seemed to pass in the matter of a few seconds, laughter, conversations and all. Now the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon up in the ombre sky.

It wasn’t any fault of your own that you’d asked Joel if the date could extend a little longer. It’d been a month of getting to see him in this light, open and unguarded, generous with giving those slow, easy smiles. Willing to lay down across your lap like this when you asked sweetly enough.

The small mouth of a fish breaks the surface of the water as you trace along his hairline, disappearing by the time you run the pad of your finger down his nose. His lips twitch as he continues to ward off sleep. This time, there’s no stopping a soft laugh from rising up your throat. That’s all it takes for his eyes to flutter open, blinking until they’re able to focus on the soft upturn of your lips. No sooner do they avert to the sky, assessing the fleeting light.

“We gotta head back now,” his voice is gruff. When he moves to sit up, you place a delicate hand on the center of his chest and he settles back down with a sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart, the sun’s setting. I don’t want you out here in the dark.”

Packing up and riding back to the commune meant this moment would be resigned to a memory. “A few more minutes won’t hurt,” you insist.

Before Jackson and before you, every second was about enduring to the next. Life was an endless onwards, onwards, onwards reverberating through his veins. Slowing down was always a risk until you showed him that sometimes life’s most worthwhile moments were in the stillness. Somedays that was easier to remember than others, but he sure did put in an effort.

“I think you’re enjoying this more than I am anyways,” you tease. The corners of his lips quirk upwards before he can stop them.

You continue on like that, tracing his face, occasionally glancing up at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Then an animal catches your attention across the way, lean and tall with short antlers protruding from its head. You suck in a breath of pleasant surprise, and Joel startles upright thinking the worst. His shoulders relax when he sees the creature. It bends its neck down to nibble at something in the grass until deciding to gallop away.

“Just a mule deer.” He gives you a look.

“I know, sorry. I get excited.” You offer an apologetic smile and he's reminded of how beautiful you look in the light of the setting sun, features aglow. He doesn’t say anything, just soaks you in here and now. An airiness fills your chest.

He stands with a groan, extending a helping hand back down to you. When you’re steady on your feet, he takes your chin in one gentle hand and tilts your head back so he can align his lips with yours. The kiss is brief, and he follows it up with a soft peck.

“Will you let me take you back home now?” he questions. “Ellie’s gonna have our heads if we’re late for game night. Especially when she’s choosing the line up.”

•••

No heads roll that night. Plenty of dice do, while Uno cards are slapped onto the coffee table, and Jenga blocks fall. Tommy, Maria, Dina, and your uncle Nate, eventually file out of Joel’s house, leaving the three of you alone. Ellie feigns sleep on the couch as soon as it’s time for cleanup, and dozes off for real as you and Joel start taking care of everything yourselves.

He steps up behind you as you’re standing at the kitchen sink, snaking his arms around your middle. A curious hum rises up your throat as you lean back into him.

“I think somebody cheated during Jenga tonight,” he hushes against the shell of your ear, relishing the way you shiver at the warmth of his breath.

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

Joel noses at the back of your head. “So you weren’t the one touchin’ me during that last round?” he asks. “Scratching my back, squeezing my thigh.”

“It was innocent,” you insist. “It's a stressful game, I was just trying to ease your nerves. How was I supposed to know your hands would get all shaky?”

A sudden chuckle shakes his chest, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Ease my nerves? We weren’t even on the same team.” His fingers squeeze your hips in quick, gentle pulses, making you arch into him in a spell of helpless giggles. Joel evades your attempts to grab his wrists, but shows you mercy when you turn around, looking up at him through your lashes like you could do no wrong.

“You’re lucky I happen to like you an awful lot.” He places both hands on the counter behind you, effectively caging you in.

You smooth your hands up his chest, admiring the soft lines by his eyes, the handsome bump of his nose. “I know. I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“No, that’s me,” Joel whispers.

He’s certain of it.

Thank you so much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts, it’s my favorite thing.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem reader smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #slow burn #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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writella · 5 months ago

Text

Fuckin’ Favorite

Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.

— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.

A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.

—with love from writella ♡

He comes in without a knock.

The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.

This was his house. His rules.

“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”

If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.

“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.

“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.

You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.

He’s aware.

You can’t fool him any longer.

“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”

Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.

You do nothing.

There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”

You had never done that before.

“Do I gotta say it a third?”

You shake your head. No.

Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.

After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.

He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.

Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.

“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.

You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.

Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”

Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”

He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”

This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.

“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”

You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“I- I need you.”

In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.

“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.

You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.

You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.

Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.

Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.

He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.

And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.

Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.

Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”

You don’t open them.

He stops.

“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”

Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.

“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”

“Tell me you want it.”

You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”

“Tell me you need it.”

Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”

He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”

“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”

“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”

You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”

“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”

You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.

“Look at me when I tell you.”

Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.

“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”

As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.

His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.

The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”

Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”

“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”

“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN LORD,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”

#negan smith smut #negan smith x reader smut #negan smith x reader #negan smith x y/n #negan smith x you #negan smith imagine #negan smith fanfiction #negan smut #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #twd fanfiction #twd smut #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut #twd fanfic #negan smith

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empresskylo · 2 years ago

Text

call of duty ೃ⁀➷ NSFW headcanons

↳ includes: ghost, price, soap, and alejandro.

⋆｡°✩ CONTENT WARNINGS | afab!reader, rough sex

cod masterlist | main masterlist

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

Ghost

♡ ghost has a size kink for sure. loves being bigger/taller than you. loves towering over you. loves covering your whole body when he fucks you.

♡ he’s a growler (-: i mean, his voice is just really deep and that in combo with his accent causes him to make growling-esque noises in bed.

♡ but he was really quite quiet when you first fucked. he was used to having to be silent when he jerked off because teammates were always around somewhere. and so he didn’t even realize how quiet he was being until you said something. he was even a bit shy at first but once you showed him how much his sounds got you off, he was glad to oblige and let loose.

♡ he doesn’t like to “choke” you, but he likes to rest his hand around your neck in a firm hold allowing him to hold you steady so he can fuck you deeper.

♡ he’s rather simple. he likes a few basic positions. it gets the job done. he doesn't see the need for any wild or crazy positions when fucking you missionary, doggy style, or against a wall gets both of you off. he will do new stuff with you if you ask tho.

♡ really likes to praise you. he’s got a praise kink but only for being the praiser lol. he loves to tell you how good you feel, how pretty you look, how well you’re taking him. especially when you react to his words, fuck, he loves knowing he can do that to you.

♡ however, when you praise HIM, he gets all flustered and legit fucking blushes! my guy isn’t used to soft compliments, only ones about his combat skills. so when you say sweet things to him like how good he feels, how hot he looks, how turned on he makes you, how perfect he feels inside you, how badly you want him… he blushes. every. time.

♡ professional pussy eater. he very much enjoys going down on you, usually touching himself simultaneously. he’ll yank you to the end of the bed and wrap his arms around your thighs to hold you down. he likes when you ride his face too. he’s been known to get you off like that and make the two of you late. he moans a lot too when you ride his face. loves when you use him to get off and he can't help but moan at that.

♡ he has fucked you with the handle of his knife before and then made you lick it clean.

♡ gets a perverted sense of gratification when he sees you limping after fucking you senseless.

♡ has a breeding kink. he accidentally let it slip one day when he was fucking you, just about to come, when he moaned out in strained breaths “i need. to fucking. breed you.” (my brain: *414 error*) it doesn’t necessarily mean he wants kids, but he just loves the idea of getting you pregnant/coming inside you/breeding you.

♡ definitely a dom. but can be a sub when need be. he wasn’t sure about being submissive at first, but he’s learned to love it. he likes when you boss him around and tell him what you want. even likes it when you edge him and don’t let him finish, dragging it out painfully. but that’s only occasionally, he usually likes to be the one in control.

♡ comes the hardest when you tell him you love him as you're orgasming. he's a romantic at heart.

Price

♡ daddy kink.. i mean… com’on! he gets flustered as fuck when you call him that in public. usually, you’ll say it quietly or whisper it to him. it’s a rare sight to see Price so flustered. and he definitely punishes you when you get home. (that’s if you even make it home. as long as no one can see, he’ll fuck you anywhere)

♡ wants a video of you for when he’s away. you were shy at first so he just recorded your lower half while he was fucking you, the only thing visible was where your bodies were connecting. but he could hear all your moans in the video and that was plenty for him. he’s watched the video countless times.

♡ keeps a naughty polaroid of you in his wallet

♡ reallyyy likes to go down on you. he would spend the rest of his life between your thighs if he could.

♡ loves to tease you and make you beg. he’ll have you on your knees, begging him to fuck you. and of course that gives the cheeky bastard an aura of arrogance, but it’s hot on him so its ok.

♡ he specifically likes to tease you while you’re training together. watching the way you get flustered and try to ignore his innuendos and subtle hand movements on the more intimate parts of your body. then, when he has you alone, he’ll make it seem like you were the one causing all the distractions. he’ll stay fully clothed and strip you down, fingering you while you stifle your moans. “this why you were distracted today, love? thinkin’ bout my fingers inside of you?” (when, in fact, you were trying to train and he was the one being all cheeky)

♡ over the clothes... he is fond of letting you ride his thigh, both of you fully clothed (that, or you're in underwear and he's fully clothed). sometimes he'll fuck you with everything on, dry humping you so aggressively that you come harder than you ever have. my guy is good at what he does.

♡ quite intense and intimidating when having sex. he's demanding in a way that makes you nervous and embarrassed. always making you say things that make your face heat. "is this want you want, pretty girl? gonna have to say it. unless you want me to stop?" "tell me what you want, love. use your words." "you want me? where? gotta spell it out for me."

Soap

♡ doesn’t love the fact that you might get off to porn when he's not around, so he sends you audios of him jerking off, whining and moaning loudly for you. he gets so turned on when you tell him you got off to his video.

♡ likes to switch between being dominant and submissive. he’ll fuck you hard and fast, make you beg, tell you what to do, and edge you until you’re a crying mess. but he also likes it when you take control, riding him and stopping just as he’s about to finish, making him whine and whimper as you suck his dick, not letting him touch you as you tease him mercilessly, likes when you wrap your hand around his neck as you ride him.

♡ likes when you scratch him up. he wears all the marks you give him proudly and secretly likes being teased by the guys about it. he'll even tell you to be rougher on him. "bite down, love, I can take it."

♡ loves blowjobs. and loves finishing on your face with your tongue out. he finds it so hot when you lick your lips, his cum dripping down your chin.

♡ likes to be slow and gentle with you, dragging it out. he wants to take his time with you. and he'll do whatever you say or want. he's constantly making sure you're doing good or you like what he's doing. Sometimes you end up getting a bit frustrated, "yes, johnny, that feels fucking fantastic, now shut up and fuck me!" "yes, ma'am!"

♡ aftercare involves cleaning you up. taking a shower together. lame jokes. braiding your hair. giving you his sweatshirt to wear. and spooning you.

♡ almost came in his pants the first time he saw you in sexy lingerie that you bought just for his viewing pleasure.

♡ has a slight oral fixation and likes to keep his mouth busy the entire time. he's always kissing or nipping somewhere on you. he loves kissing your neck, jaw, chest, just anywhere really. he often groans into the kisses, making you swallow them.

Alejandro

♡ "if you're a good girl and don't come until i tell you, i'll make you come over and over again"

♡ for some reason, he likes to leave hickeys on your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly as he kisses you everywhere below your hips except where you need him most.

♡ he lives for teasing. he wants you a withering mess before he even considers giving you what you need. will have you crying because of how bad you want him. those are his favorite tears from you.

♡ he will overstimulate the fuck outta you too. you come at least 3 times every time you fuck. and he'll threaten to keep going, your core throbbing in painful overstimulation, unless you do exactly as he says.

♡ leaves bruises and scratch marks all over you. but he also expects the same in return. both of you look like you got into a gnarly brawl every time you fuck. "jesus christ, were you two fucking in there or wrestling a wild bear?"

♡ he is amazing at aftercare, a big switch up from the dominant, rough sex. he'll clean you up while muttering little praises. he'll carry you to the bathroom, sometimes taking a warm bath with you and washing your hair. he'll get you situated into clean comfy clothes and curl you up into him in bed. whatever you need, he'll do.

♡ likes the thrill of getting caught. he doesn't actually want to get caught, but it's the rush of it all. he's down to fuck anywhere. he's sneaky too and can be really subtle about touching you under the table, or in a dark corner of the bar, or on the roof while you're on watch duty. but he definitely prefers when you can both let loose and be loud.

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rainrot4me · 6 months ago

Text

Keep It Rolling

Summary: You and your friend decide to see if you can find ghosts in an abandoned asylum as you record the whole thing. When you run into Hoodie, he thinks it’d be fun to record you instead.

Characters: Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Recording sex, bad blowjob, vaginal, threatening with a gun, pussy slapping, size difference, forcing, gagging, stretching, cream pie, size difference

Words: 3.9k

You spent your whole life filming everything.

It didn’t matter what. Eating breakfast, going to the store, hanging with friends, everything was caught on your little camcorder. You had an internet personality to keep up with and feeding your viewers your personal life was a hefty job. But you loved it.

So, of course, when your best friend messaged you about some supposedly haunted mental asylum twenty minutes off the interstate, you had to get it on camera.

The mid-autumn breeze blew through your hair as you and your friend packed your filming equipment into the back of your car, shutting the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat. The asylum wasn’t even an hour away. But as you sped down the interstate, it was like the whole atmosphere had changed. The clouds were dark, the wind blew leaves from the trees, and this ominous darkness loomed around you.

“Where did these rain clouds come from?” Your friend mumbled, scrolling through her phone and checking the weather which didn’t offer many answers. Brushing it off, you turned down an overgrown dirt road off the highway and searched for the building. If it did start raining, there was no way you were getting your camera out of the car. And if there was no camera, there was no reason for you to go inside. But as you drove further, an overgrown sign dangled on the side of the path. ‘State Asylum for the Mentally Insane.’ Charming. It was much farther after that that you could see the run-down building come into view, boarded up windows and patches of wall missing. The decorations of the building had all but disintegrated, but the foundation and skeleton of the building still stood strong minus the crumbling sections of walls. You pulled the car as close to the end of the path as you could before the overgrown plants stopped your path. Shutting the engine off, you sat and stared at the rolling clouds swarming overhead, judging if this was a good idea or not. Obviously, you knew it wasn’t.

“Shit, whole things coming down. Wonder how much longer it's got till it completely crumbles.” Your friends laughed, hopping out of the car and opening the trunk, slinging a bag full of voice recorders over her shoulder. “I hope we don’t find out.” You joked back, sliding to the back and grabbing your camera and backpack full of batteries and hard drives. The wind howled through the building, an eerie whistling noise echoing off the decaying walls that were visible from the outside. If you couldn’t find anything haunted in there, at least you’d get some good aesthetic shots. “I say we make a lap through the building and see if we can find any particular room that feels right to set up in. Y’know, see if it feels haunted.” They laughed, slamming the trunk shut and sauntering towards the entrance, a large dark door with shattered lanterns on either side. You flipped open your camera lens, filming a good shot of your friend shoving the door open and peeking inside. You quickly followed behind, skipping up the steps and peeking inside yourself.

The entrance was dark, furniture and paintings rusted with age and tossed around on the ground. Leaves and cobwebs accented the space, giving just the right amount of old and creepy as you filmed you both entering. The wind howled through the halls as you scanned each room, discovering abandoned medical supplies, facility rooms, and rows and rows of medical beds. All of it was caught on film, the dim lighting giving just the perfect balance with the soft glow of your flashlight. This had to get you views.

When you and your friend finally decided on a spot, a recreation room fit with a stage and tables, you set your audio recorders on the tables, little blinking lights illuminating the room as you pointed the camera. Your friend pulled out their flashlight, laying it on the table and flicking it on. You angled the lens, catching their face in the glow as they began to ask questions, the eerie quietness echoing their voice. “If there are any spirits here who are wishing to make themselves known, please do so now.” Silence. Besides the settling of the old floorboards, there wasn’t a movement or sound to be made. They tried again. “We’re here to do nothing more than talk. Please don’t be afraid to communicate.” Nothing again. You were growing impatient, switching your camera between your friend and the dormant recording devices, no lights signaling activity was being captured. Your friend groaned, holding out for maybe just some noise but ultimately flipping off the flashlight and scooping the recording equipment back into their bag. “Maybe we just picked a bad room. I want to try something though.” You flipped your camera shut, breathing deep and smelling nothing but mould and concrete. “And?”

They shuffled the bag onto their shoulder, shining their flashlight around the disheveled room. “I saw on some ghost channel they split up and went to opposite ends of their hospital and got a lot of activity. Apparently, ghosts like it when you’re alone.” They smiled, shuffling back to the hallway. “Sounds good to me,” It didn’t, but who were you to say no to some good content? “Walk to opposite ends of the building and meet back in thirty minutes?” You both nodded, turning away from each other as you trudged your way to the farthest end of the asylum.

You felt like you had walked forever, stepping down two flights of stairs until you ended up in what you assumed to be the basement. Random trash and unorganized medical equipment littered the floor but it was charming in a way, like the place was a relic of what it used to be. The damp air surrounded you, every step echoing off the concrete walls and recording beautifully as you flipped on your camera. Cobwebs hung in every corner, more afraid of running into one than running into an actual ghost, but content was content.

You set your camera on the ground, shining your flashlight at your face as you crisscrossed in front of the lens. The hall was silent, the dark corners sending chills up your spine as you couldn’t see past where your flashlight glow went. You settled yourself, breathing deeply before calling into the darkness. “If there are any spirits here who would like to communicate, please make yourself known.” Silence. The rhythmic dripping of water from the pipes offered some relief as you listened closely, but ultimately heard nothing. You sighed, trying again. “I am only here to talk. Please make yourself known.” Nothing still. It was relieving, sort of, praying internally that you’d find nothing as you stared into the camera’s lens. Shaking your head, you gave it one final attempt before you’d decide to head back upstairs. “If any spirits wa-”

That was when you heard it. The loud thud echoed from down the dark hallway. Fear shot through you, quickly aiming your flashlight but seeing nothing that could have made the noise. “Hello..?” You called, picking your camera up and directing it the same way. There was no response. But as you went to stand, a very clear sound of someone clearing their throat echoed. You scrambled to your feet, realizing this wasn’t going to be paranormal, but some squatter you’d accidentally run up on. Your hands were shaking but relentlessly keeping the camera trained on the hall, staring intently for any sign of motion. Deciding not to press your luck further, you quietly stepped towards the stairs, barely reaching the railing before you saw it. The tall figure of a man resting his shoulder on the wall beside you and staring straight at you.

A scream bubbled in your throat, panic building before he was on you in a second, his large hands shoving his over your mouth and holding your head still. You gripped your equipment tightly, panicking desperately as you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. That all stopped as soon as you felt the gunhead press against your ribs, nudging you to be compliant. “One word and I shoot.” He huffed, his deep voice reverberating against the walls. That’s when you could see him in the glow of your flashlight. He wore a ski mask that covered every feature of his face, but had a weird face drawn on. Tears rolled down your cheeks, realizing what a heap of trouble you were in. Whining, the man released your mouth but nudged the gun deeper into your rib, forcing you to the wall behind you. His gruff demeanor shakes you. “Explain yourself. Now.” He commanded, shoving the hilt further up. You panicked, quickly answering. “Uh- My f-friend and I came to see if we c- could find ghosts. I was making, uh, a video.” You cringed, holding the camera up as it was still rolling, capturing everything that had happened so far. The man jerked the camera out of your hand, examining it before tossing it to the floor, a whine escaping you as you watched it skid against the concrete. He leaned in close to your face, his breathing mumbled by the mask. “No ghosts, huh?” He towered over you, his large frame encapsulating you easily. You shook your head awkwardly, gulping as he pulled the gun from your side but quickly repositioned it under your chin, nudging it forcefully. “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m afraid this is as far as you’ll get.” He cocked the trigger, the noise sending a full-blown panic through you as you gripped his arm. “Please! Please- oh, God, I’ll do anything,” You huffed, tears pouring heavily. “Anything you want. Money, your dick sucked, food, anything!” You pleaded, face growing red as you shook with fear.

The man leaned back, pulling his finger off the trigger as he chuckled. “What was that second thing?” He smirked, resting his hand on his hip but not letting that gunhead leave your chin. You blushed roughly, your words betraying you as you just word-vomited something to save yourself. “I said anything.” You huffed, gritting your teeth as you felt the cold metal leave your skin, sighing deeply.

The man holstered his gun in the back of his jeans, sauntering over to your camera on the ground and scooping it up. He wiped it off, flipping the screen open before pointing it at you. You blushed, feeling awkward on the other side of the lens for once. He chuckled, stepping closer to you as he moved the camera to the side, staring at you directly. “Well?” He grinned, focusing his gaze back on the camera screen that captured your red face, the flash accentuating your features. His mask concealed his expression making you unsure if he was being serious or not, but you didn’t want to test those waters knowing full well he had a gun.

You awkwardly knelt in front of him, the concrete wall behind you cramping you. The truth was, you had no clue what you were doing. No boyfriends made their way around to lay you, so whatever you were about to pull out of your ass: your life literally depended on it.

You fiddled with his belt, sliding it open before nervously pulling the zipper of his jeans down. He wasn’t even half-hard in his boxers. You palmed at the bulge awkwardly, glancing up as the camera stared at you, his face peeking behind and watching you closely. Growing in your hand, you tucked your fingers under his boxers and tugged them down, his large cock barely bobbing out. It was awkward, but you took the length in your hands and slowly began to stroke, feeling it harden slowly. This was good. Nervousness pricked at your stomach as you licked at the tip. You slowly pressed the now hard length into your mouth, getting as deep as you could before pulling back. Slobber coated the length, gleaming in the flash of the camera. You leaned back in, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and taking the rest of what you could in your mouth. It wasn’t good and you knew it. Your teeth constantly scraped against his length. Not to mention any time the tip passed your tongue you were gagging back off of it.

He was growing impatient, the half-assed attempt at head making his head hurt. You felt his hand slink up the back of your head and grip a handful of your hair, slowly guiding your head back onto his cock. “Open wide.” He commanded, holding the camera lower to get a good shot. You hung your jaw lower, gripping his jeans quickly as you felt him press into your mouth further than you knew you could take. You gagged, straining to pull your head back but he wouldn’t let you, he just kept pushing your head further. You slammed your eyes shut, tears pricking as you wrapped your lips around the thick cock deep in your mouth. He finally pulled your head back, giving you a second to breathe before you snapped his hips back into your mouth quickly. You whined, throat choking as he thrust your head on his cock quickly. He held your hair tightly as he forced himself down your throat, practically face-fucking you and not giving you a second to adjust.

“Damn, you got a mouth on you, huh?” He huffed, shoving the camera closer to your mouth wrapping around him tightly. You groaned, eyes rolling as you gagged each time his cock pressed against the back of your throat. It was loud and vulgar, the wet sounds echoing off the walls. He refused to let up though, groaning as he held your head back. “There you go. Keep that throat open, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, pressing your head flush against him but not pulling away. You began to panic, gripping at his jeans as you choked, no air reaching you. He chuckled, cock throbbing in your mouth at the sound of drool gurgling in your throat. He finally pulled you off his length, a loud gasp escaping you as air filled your lungs. He pulled your hair back making you stare at the camera, your flushed face and slobber-covered lips shining brightly against the flash. “God…” He let go of your hair, pumping his cock into his hand before kneeling at your level. “Yeah, I’m not done with you.” He grinned, gripping your legs pulling them out from under you and landing you on your back. He crawled over you, nudging himself between your legs as he tugged at your shirt until it bunched above your bra. He hooked his fingers under the cups, pushing them up and exposing your tits. Hands were on them in a second, massaging and pulling at the mounds.

Your whines echoed as he pinched your nipples, pulling them roughly and kneading the buds in between his fingers. “You’ve got such a nice body sweetheart. I can’t wait to ruin it.” He scaled the camera across your body and shot your curves well. It was incredibly embarrassing.

He pulled his hands off your nipples, leaning back to set the camera on the ground and angle it between your legs, getting a good shot of your crotch. If anything, you were impressed with his familiarity with a camera. But the other half of you cringed as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them off your legs, giving the camera a clear shot of your damp panties. His fingers rubbed at the spot, his thumb pressing roughly against your clit and making you squirm. You reached down quickly, grabbing his wrist. That wasn’t going to happen. He immediately grabbed your wrists in return, pinning your hands above your head and relishing the way your body arched in defiance. “Calm down, huh? Relax…” He grinned, sliding your panties off your hips with his right hand and sliding his fingers up your folds, collecting your arousal. Pressing your legs open, he spread your folds the same, the cold air making your clit twitch. “Such a pretty cunt…” He groaned, spreading your lips and spitting against your hole, making you squirm.

He rubbed his fingers against your entrance, circling the area as you arched your back, silently begging for him to slide them in. That was when you saw his hand reach back and quickly slap down on your cunt, a sharp sting hitting you. You gasped, his hand slapping you again before you could even say anything. His palm continued to connect with your cunt, rubbing the area roughly before bringing his hand back to slap down again. You were a whining mess, every sting and slap making you so much wetter. The squelching sounds your cunt made every time his palm reached was embarrassing, your moans mixing and creating an insanely lewd noise. “God! Please…” You whined, squeezing your knees closer and trapping his hand against your cunt. He chuckled, giving in and pressing his fingers into your soaked entrance, a loud squelch echoing. You groaned, his fingers reaching deeply inside of you and curling just the right way. When he began to pump his fingers, it was all you could do not to scream your pleasure. Your throbbing clit ached as his fingers curled against your walls, each curl causing them to clench down. His thick fingers worked you open, your squirming body being easily held down by his muscled arms. Your orgasm came incredibly fast, your walls tightening around his fingers as they stretched your entrance wide and became soaked with your ecstasy.

He pulled his fingers out sharply and brought them to the hem of his mask as he slid it up just above his nose. He licked his fingers of your arousal, smiling at you as he took them down to the knuckle. Your eyes frantically glanced at the camera lens, the flash blinding you as you begged the battery would magically die and none of this would be recorded. No luck. “Damn sweetheart, you think that cunt’s ready for me yet?” He grinned, pulling his mask back down and wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling you quickly to rest your thighs on top of his. His cock was twitching and angry, the head pulsing as he pumped it in his hands. He let it rest on your tummy. You glance down, head spinning as you realize just how big he is. “Oh, I’m gonna be in there.” He chuckled, releasing your wrists to scoop his hands under your hips and angle them up. He nudged the head of his cock against your entrance, leaning down to meet his face with your as he breathed deeply. “Try to not scream, yeah?”

Before you could question why, he slammed your hips down onto his length. The rough stretch and sting of him entering you so abruptly made you cry out, tears leaking down your cheeks. He didn’t wait. Either because he couldn’t or because he didn’t care. His hips snapped into you quickly, fingers digging into your bare hips as he forced your hips to connect with his. “Shit-” He was grunting with every thrust, heavily breathing behind the mask. Your moans and cries matched his, every nudge of his cock against your walls making your back arch and jaw hang open. It was dizzying. He was perched on his knees, holding your hips off the ground and fucking into you like some fleshlight.

Every tug at his hands and pull at his jacket went unnoticed as you clawed against him, trying your hardest to find some stability as your body was being rammed against. Your cunt throbbed with every squelch and slap, your walls constricting around the thick length invading inside of you. The camera caught it all, angled perfectly to see every inch of his cock sink into your cunt as he thrust quickly. It caught every lewd moan, every slap of skin. The tears were rolling down your cheeks, the sting and stretch of him mixing with the absolute pleasure slamming into you. “Fuck, so tight. Gonna milk me dry, sweetheart.” He huffed, repositioning for a split second before angling his hips up to ram into your g-spot. You screamed out, hand reaching for your clit as you rubbed in pace with his thrusts up into you.

That’s when he grabbed the camera, angling it down directly at your cunt as he sunk into you quickly. “Cum on my cock. Yeah, let me see it.” He moaned, shoving your hand out of the way to press his own fingers against your clit, rubbing quick and rough. You slapped your hands over your face, eyes rolling as you felt your orgasm rushing against you. The masked man was moaning louder, little whines escaping his lips as his own pace became sloppy. “Cum all over me, sweetheart.” He groaned. It sent you over, waves of pleasure crashing into you quickly as he refused to let off of your clit. You screamed out, arching your back against his fingers as he rubbed your orgasm out. Walls around his cock constricted, milking him as he held the camera close, the flash catching every drop of sweat and arousal that mixed on you. He bottomed out against you, moaning loudly as he released deep into your cunt.

The room went quiet apart from your panting. The camera caught it all, each pulse of his cock as he filled you full, your hands gripping tightly against his wrist as he held his thumb over your clit. He slowly pulled out, hissing as you felt the stretch of him. When his head popped out, he moved the camera down, catching every second as his seed leaked out of you. “Did so good sweetheart. Took me so good.” He huffed, sliding his fingers through your folds and spreading his release across your cunt, making you squirm. He pressed his fingers into your swallowed entrance, pressing his seed back in. When he pulled them out, he flipped the camera shut, turning the flash off and setting it back on the ground.

Finding your panties, he slid them back on you and relished as he watched them soak darker. He helped you button your pants back, pulling your shirt down and helping you stand. Handing you the camera, he laughed at your hazy expression, your heavy eyes and swollen cheeks evident of your fucked out cunt. “Thanks, sweetheart, now run along before I change my mind.” He huffed, turning back to the dark hallway and waving you off. “Good luck with your ghosts.” You nodded, frantically turning back to the steps and rushing up to the fresh air. It hadn’t been long, but as you listened closely and heard the sound of heavy rain, you trudged to the other side of the asylum and found your friend just as hopeless as you left them.

“Did you find anything? I had a whole lot of nothing.” They sighed, leading you to the entrance and out to the car as you tried to hide your equipment from the rain. “Nah. Nothing interesting.” You sighed, climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off back down the dirt path.

When you eventually made it home, you sprinted to your laptop and shoved the SD card in, loading up the video. Your hand covered your mouth as you watched the scene unfold, arousal growing in your pants again as you felt the leak of the masked man’s seed against your folds.

The video played through, every squelch and moan sending shivers through you as your hand slid down between your legs, rubbing lazily as you rewatched his cock sink inside of you.

You’d have to go ghost hunting more often.

Comments are reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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globesiem · 2 months ago

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reminder. ★ lando norris, 4.

content porn with minimal plot, dirty talk, penetration, pr!reader, unprotected sex.

ideally, being lando norris’ public relations manager wouldn’t have to be such a chore. covering up every scandal, from the miami party rumors to every offhanded bratty comment he continued making to the media despite acknowledging their overdramatic reactions and nitpicky behavior.

sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if his overly loose mouth was a product of his lack of media training, or simply because he rather enjoyed eliciting a reaction out of you. quickly skimping behind him, throwing apologies across the room for your boss’ uncanny comments.

also ideally, the snarky and arrogant comments he made into the reporters’ microphones, wouldn’t end up with you pinned against the wall of his motorhome. somehow the line between professionalism and carnal desire began to blur over the course of your laboral relationship, ending up in a mess of teeth clashing together, desperate hands roaming the other’s body in an attempt to earn satisfaction, along with a string of pornographic sounds that could easily be depicted from a sexual film.

“lando, you need to be more careful.” your voice was faint and exhasperated, interrupted by his harsh thrusts that caused you to almost hiccup after every word, shaky hands tangled into his hair, tugging at the sweaty curls just barely.

“that’s why i got you, huh?” his tone dripped of faux sweetness, a tint of mockery hidden under the charming english accent that made your head spin with every small undertone or enunciation.

“don’t do anything stupid—” you cut yourself off with a loud moan, gasping for air as his lips commenced their nip on your neck, peppering love marks where his teeth slightly bit down. “—is all i’m saying.” you managed to finish your sentence with a pant.

“well,” he managed to mumble against your collarbone, pausing momentarily to direct his gaze to yours, a small smirk evidenly spreading across his lips. “too late for that now, hm?” his voice came out in a lustful tone, seductive, even. he acted as if you weren’t completely at his mercy, waiting for his wandering hands to make their way to where you needed them the most.

it was almost pathetic, truly. the way you melted under his touch, fog clouding every ounce of judgement you ever thought you had, soft mewls escaping your pursed lips at every ghastly touch; hands gripping your hips in a possessive manner, pulling you impossibly closer with a shaky breath.

“oh shut up,” you breathed out, sentence ending up in more of a moan rather than a strong imposition, tone of voice betraying the supposed thread of self control that still seemed to reign within you.

“me?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. you knew you were playing with fire, evident in the way his eyes seemed to darken with every teasing word thrown his way, constructed to perfection to keep luring him.

you were like a siren to him, so irresistibly beautiful he couldn’t help to shove his cock down your throat after a while of getting to know you, stuff you full of his cum while having you moan out his name in an utter haze.

could you blame him? seeing you walk around the paddock with those tiny skirts and mclaren team shirts that occasionally, and quite coincidentally, had his number on them, made him grow possessive of you, a growing thirst he could only cure with his tongue on your cunt.

which is how you seemed to always end up in this situation, pinned against the wall of his motorhome with his cock shoved inside your dripping pussy. your panties were somewhere in the room, torn apart by the same veiny hand that held your hips in place to thrust deeper inside of you, making sure to hit every sweet spot he seemed to memorize after each encounter, lips openly peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of purple bites as a reminder.

“so good for me,” he whispered, more of an affirmation to himself if he was to be completely honest. “wouldn’t want anyone else to fuck. beauty and brains, hm?” you were sure he never learned how to keep his pretty mouth shut, but you clearly weren’t complaining as your slick coated his cock perfectly with an encouragement of each word from him.

“please, lan.” you moaned out in a higher pitched tone than usual, head thrown back as he continued rutting his hips at a quick pace, a hand now trailing to your neck, gripping barely enough to increase your growing pleasure, another hand holding your hips tightly as a series of low groans escaped his lips.

“let go for me, darling. i got you,” he continued talking in a low voice, huffing as he pistoned his hips quicker, the sound of skin slapping accompanied with a louder moan from you, his lips carefully biting your collarbone.

“i’m, fuck—” you cut yourself off with a loud moan, needless to say your juices quickly coated his dick with a white ring of your juices as your orgasm washed over you, body slightly shaking.

with one final thrust and a few words you couldn’t quite make out in the haze of your post orgasm state, he came inside of you, shooting ropes of cum into your puffy cunt, continuing to rut into you momentarily to make sure it stayed inside deep inside, like a reminder.

“told you to be more careful.” you breathed out.

“and i told you, that’s what i have you for, angel.”

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clumsybriar · 6 months ago

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Ghost x Wife! Reader — My Pretty Girl

Ghost x wife! Reader

Masterlist

Notes: use of (y/n), reader is female, ghost really adores his wife, fluff.

Word count: 6,858

Warnings: some swearing and bullying.

———————————————————————————

Simon stopped in the doorway watching his wife get ready. He was awestruck by her always. She was curvy, and pretty, and her personality sold it all.

She was in his words ‘a sensitive bugger’, to which she would disagree and tell him she was in tune with her emotions and then giggle. She was so sweet and patient and was willing to try and be everyone’s friend even if she was an introvert. The deal was, they had to talk to her first.

“Pretty girl.” He uttered coming up behind her and kissing her cheek. She had her make up all done and it was natural looking. The way she liked it. Her hair was straightened and she was just trying to get dressed until Simon interrupted her.

“Si!” She whined cutely as she only had one leg in her shorts and her other one was lifted as she was trying to stick her foot in the hole. Simon had snatched it up trapping her in place.

“Don’t whine, dovie.” He smiled as he balanced her. “I love you with all my heart, I’m just showin’ it.” His deep Manchester accent boomed within the four walls surrounding them.

His words were not an understatement either. He adored her entirely, worshiped the ground she walked on. He was a man who was well in love with his wife as he should be. She was gorgeous, even if she had stretch marks, or a bigger booty, or larger breasts. How ever it was, he loved her no matter what she looked like.

“Ah, pretty girl, not this outfit.” He smiled leaving a trail of kissed down her neck to her shoulder and continuing it down her arm.

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked nervously as she looked up at Simon.

There wasn’t anything wrong with it, he loved it. Frankly he would have said that about any outfit she left the house with or were wearing around the house. Even if it was her tangled and messy bed head and a t-shirt and boxers of his. He would still slobber over it and have the same remark.

“I love it, you look so gorgeous in this outfit pretty girl.” He kissed her knuckles.

“Si-si,” she snorted. “You say that about anything I wear.”

“Can’t help it love.” He tapped her butt with his hands. “You look good in everything, and nothing at all.” He teased softly. His lips trailing down her neck again as his hands wondered her body.

“We can’t,” she out a half things frenzied attack which made up of lots of kisses and groping over her soft skin. “We said we would meet Mr. and Mrs. Price at 3:30 at the winery.” His hands still grabbed at her thighs as he tried to sneak a few subtle touches elsewhere. “And soap and a Gaz will be there with their…”

“Pay them no mind, pretty girl.” Simon hummed as he stood up straight. She was petit against him, as in he towered over her and she was just this dainty and tiny little hobbit compared to him.

“Yes lieutenant.” She giggled she was trying to fight off his large hand that gripped her in thigh still up in the air as she wanted to get dressed. He patted her butt one more time as he let her go and laid on the bed watching her as she got dressed.

“Ya’ wearin’ that devils peice of clothing?” Simon asked as he watched her turn around and change her bra. “Go no bra.” He whined slightly. It was so out of character for him to be so whiney like this, but with her he could express himself in any way. He was so comfortable with her.

“I’m wearing a bra.” She fastened the new one and made sure her breasts settled right in it. He rolled into his belly as he rested his head on his fist.

“No bra,” he grunted out.

“Yes bra!” She argued back smiling at him.

“Let me see.” He pawed at her butt. She had fasted her cargo wrap skort and turned around grabbing her crocheted black crop top that cupped around her breasts.

“Pretty lace lovie.” He referred to her bra looking the dark green and how it compared to her skin.

“Your such a tease.” She giggled.

“Can you blame me lovie.” He sat up watching her out on the crochet top. “Such a pretty girl.”

“You try to make my head big.” She hummed as she put on her sandles.

“Baby, your head ain’t ever gonna grow big enough.” He teased her some more as his hands rested on her hips. “Your a pretty girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her collar bone. “And you don’t realize it.”

“I’m not that pretty.” She said softly.

“Beg to differ.” He stood up kissing her cheek. “Dead pretty.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him softly. The two of them had been Mr. and Mrs. Riley for four years.

He met her a year prior to their marriage during a mission. She was a pretty little civilian working her ass off in a library while she tried to finish her art degree. He was a lieutenant in the SAS. And the building she was in, had a bomb located in the center.

Task force 141 had the responsibility to defuse the bomb and evacuate the building.

Ghost could remember it clear as day. He was rushing around giving orders to civilians while (y/n) was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, unsure if she should move because they could have been a threat to her safety, or if they thought she was the threat.

Needless to say, Gaz who was surprised by the lieutenants kindness in that moment with (y/n), knew he was a love sick puppy as soon as he set eyes on this little American woman.

Everytime Gaz retells the story, he always states something along the lines of ‘havin’ a hard time tellin’ who was the deer in headlights and who was the car about to run the deer over’. Soap would often talk about how everyone in the task force and who had been under Ghost’s command were jealous that she got all his soft and friendly words and they got ordered barked at them that day.

Needless to say, the universe, as cheesy as it was, had made sure their paths crossed so the two could be together.

Though everyone knew Ghost was in love when he gave her his mothers engagement ring as her own engagement ring. It was the last thing he had of his precious mother who had been tortured and killed by Roba. When they laid eyes on the gorgeous ring that had been worn by his mother many, many years ago, they knew he had found the woman he was going to settle down and come home to everyday, especially when his mother’s matching wedding band slipped on his wife’s finger during the wedding.

The wedding was truly something else, to (y/n) and Simon, it felt like a breath of fresh air finally being able to call one and another husband and wife even if they had been for months maybe even a year prior to wedding.

Simon could remember how ethereal (y/n) looked when she appeared from behind the doors. His breath had caught in his throat, and the tears had instantly welled up in his eyes. Soap had to pat his back as Simon—for the first time—had cried in front of many people.

The task force could have sworn it would have been (y/n) weeping heavily, but on that day it was Simon. And no one judged him for it, because she had for sure been the most beautiful bride, especially if you ask simon.

“Ready to go my dovie.” Simon hummed as he wore a white button down shirt and some slacks.

“Ready.” She grabbed his hand as she admired how his tattoos were on display. “You look charming.” She said softly as her eyes met his.

He could stare into those eyes for eternity.

“Mmm,” he leaned forward and kissed her. “Thank you baby.” He kissed her again. “Not as good as you, pretty girl.”

“Stop that!” She giggled as she stuck close to him.

“Never.” He hummed. Ghost had always been so playful with her, letting her see is fun side where many others didn’t get to see that from him. He always made her feel special though that was one thing for sure.

It didn’t take long for the two to arrive at the winery as they walked to the building to see Maria and John price already sipping on wine.

“What’ya want baby?” Simon asked as his hand was gently placed on her lower back.

“A sweet cider.” She said quietly as she was shooed around larger crowds.

“Mmm, want a pear apple cider?” He asked as he started a tab.

“Yeah.” She hummed as they waited. Her hands remained on his arms as she traced his tattoos. The bartender sat their drinks on the counter as they walked out the back to meet up with Maria and John.

“Well, well, well,” John stood up and shook Simon’s hand. “How’s it goin’ Simon.” The older man asked.

“Better everyday.” Simon hummed, a simple answer to how it truly was. Fantastic everyday when he was with (y/n).

Maria cooed softly at (y/n) as she was a very motherly person in general. “Oh darlin’, yer’ youth is refreshing to m’soul.” She hummed giggling as her accent was very Irsish and thick. “A wee baby’s skin isn’t as soft as yer’ skin.” She pinched (y/n)’s cheek gently. It didn’t take long for (y/n)’s cheeks to flare up in a rosy tint.

“Hi Maria.” (Y/n) greeted softly as she kissed the younger woman’s cheeks.

“Oh Simon, I imagine she’s keepin’ ya’ young as well with all her youth,” Maria teased the man. “We’re are ya’ two keepin’ the fountain of youth, Johnny and I could go for a dive.”

“Backyard.” Simon joked as he leaned down and hugged Maria as she kissed his cheeks as well as a greeting.

“Hi missy.” John hummed as he kissed your cheeks. “Keep him better behaved, he’s been causing me trouble at work.”

“I’m sorry,” (y/n) stifled a laughed as she looked up at Simon.

“Don’t you be givin’ my wife ammo.” Simon joked.

“I think your wife has plenty of ammo, me’lad.” Maria hummed. “Yer’ a soft husband, not like m’John who goes fishin’ and leave me with the screamin’ banshees.” She referred to her kids.

“Guilty as all be.” John smiled, sweet bliss for him.

They stood around and chatted as they waited for Gaz and Soap to appear. Of course (y/n) knew the two girls would be coming along as she tried to remember how to blend in so she wasn’t targeted.

“You’ll be targeted no matter what, m’girl.” Maria said softly. “Your a pretty lady, and them boys have known you for years ‘cause o’simon.” She hummed. “Pay’em no heed. If we need a break, you and I can always turn Hyde and walk in the vineyard.”

“Okay.” She said shyly. (Y/n) always felt like she dressed too kid-ish around them even if she was dressing more for her age, being 25. She sometimes believed she was too immature for Simon’s who was 32 and well prepared for life.

“Your so sweet, and so kind.” Simon whispered to her as he coddled her close to him. “So much sweetness, Dovie.”

(Y/n) flushed red and smiled up at Simon. She enjoyed his compliments but it often made her bashful.

“Ya’ look delightful, little one.” Maria smiled as she looked at your mature but youthful outfit. “Good thing Simon knows how to fight, these men would be all over ya’ if ya’ had that ring finger bare.” Maria hummed pointing at (y/n)’s ring finger smiling.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” She brushed it off sweetly.

“I wish for your sake I could agree with ya’ but Simon’s already gave five different men the stink eye.” John chuckled lightly.

“No one fucks with my baby.” Simon said seriously.

That made (y/n) giggle as she patted Simon’s chest.

“I hope we didn’t miss the party.” Soap hummed as he walked hand and hand with his girlfriend. (Y/n) froze up a bit as she curled more into Simon taking a larger sip of her hard cider.

“Slow down.” Simon cooed softly. “No need to rush unless you would like to hug the porcelain throne tonight.”

“Sorry.” She said softly as she looked down to make sure her cleavage wasn’t too much.

Soap and Gaz were around her age, and the two were young, and they had a habit of staring, not on purpose, but because sometimes, (y/n)’s cleavage was a bit more on show depending on the shirts she wore. And she had a god given right to flaunt it. That’s what Farrah, Alex’s wife always told her when they were visiting her cousin in America. She loved her cousin's wife, finding comfort and understanding in her.

Ghost had snapped at the two before for staring, but he also couldn’t blame them. It was a good sight to see in his eyes.

“Anne, Lilliana.” Maria greeted with a polite smile.

Both women looked so elegant and wore beautiful dresses that spoke Italian villa. (Y/n) felt so out of place wearing a skort and a crop top. Too Americanized among a group of Europeans. The sharks were out today and they were gonna get her. Those sharks were named Lilliana, and Anne.

She smiled nervously saying a soft hi.

“You look so…youthful.” Lilliana said as she leaned against Gaz. (Y/n) could tell it was a forced smile and a fake compliment. They thought she looked immature.

“She looks very lovely, doesn’t she?” Maria smiled as she swooped the girl up and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “My eldest wants (y/n) to go to the boutique with her so (y/n) can help her shop for clothes.”

“Aye, the ladies can have a day out.” Soap hummed. “And us lads can go to the pub and watch footy.”

“Ya’.” Maria nodded, smiling gently. “We’ll have to plan something out.” She said softly.

Simon watched as his wife finished her cider as she looked at Anne and Lilliana’s outfits. He could see the swirling storm in her eyes comparing herself to them.

“Baby.” Simon said softly. He wished she’d understand she was breathtaking and that she shouldn’t compare herself to other women. In his eyes, until the day he dies and beyond that, he will always think she’s the most breathtaking woman. His hands gently brushed down her hair as he looked at her deep in the eyes.

He would continue to devour her with his eyes until she understood how exactly he felt.

“Yeah,” she said softly as she looked at her giant of a husband.

He felt himself melt at the sight of her looking up at him while her hand rubbed his chest gently.

“You wanna another cider?” He asked softly, his hand gently squeezing her hip.

“Yeah, I can come with you.” (Y/n) said softly as she followed him close.

His hand gently grabbed her as he guided her to the bar top again.

“How’s my pretty girl?” His voice was deep and had an edge of huskiness in it, maybe a bit breathy as well. It made (y/n) swell with love knowing that she got him worked up enough.

Her eyes glanced up at him as she smiled softly. “Better now that it’s you and me.” She said softly.

“To many people, baby?” He asked gently, looking at her with the softest eyes.

“Somewhat?” She looked away nervously. His hand rested on the thin of her back as they waited in line.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered into her ear. It was his way of saying ‘we can have a private conversation right here’.

She fiddled with his collar as she straightened it out. Her eyes glanced around nervously seeing how she wasn’t the only one dressed in the style she was, she had to remember Anna, Lilliana, and Mrs. Price were all older than her, so they would have a different fashion sense.

“Am I childish, overly youthful?” She whispered in his ears. He leaned forward as both his hands grabbed her hips tugging her closer.

He wondered what had got her thinking like that, then it dawned on him. Those two girls were always targeting you.

A month ago, (y/n) had come home crying, having gone out to lunch with the two girls and Mrs. Price, who made sure to deliver (y/n) personally at the Riley’s residence after the luncheon they had. She had been a crying mess blubbering in Simon’s arms all the while Mrs. Price was explaining to Simon what took place as she’s doing her motherly duties in soothing the younger woman.

Soap had thought it was a good idea for the two ladies to welcome the newcomers, who Gaz and Soap had started dating at the same time because the girls were best friends and they had met the two at the club.

Simon could remember Mrs. Price said that one of the newcomers had ‘accidentally’ fumbled their tea and split it all over his lovely wife. He could remember Maria quoting the air when she said accidentally with an eye roll. She knew it was on purpose. Simon knew it was on purpose.

“No dovie, you're beautiful,” he hummed. “I love ya’ just the way ya’ are.” His Manchester accent made it sound like honey. “You're dead gorgeous and I’ll tell ya’ forever until ya’ learn it.” He paused as he ordered their drinks as it was their turn after a few minutes of waiting. He had it put onto the tab he had opened earlier and would have to remember to close later. “Don’t ya’ be listening to those girls, they ain’t got nothin’ on my pretty little wife.” He smooched her cheek. “They’re jealous. Jealous of your gorgeous looks, your gorgeous attitude, your sweet like honey, pretty girl. Don’t let ‘em damper your mood.”

These were the very moments she knew she had made a good choice in marrying Simon. Because he picked up the broken pieces when she needed a bit more support. He let her cry in his arms over nothing until she was soothed and better. He held her hand as he made sweet love to her constantly praising her and making sure she was okay. He was the best husband she could have ever asked for.

“I love ya’ now pretty girl, I love ya’ forever,” he kissed her lips as she giggled softly.

“Love you too.” She hugged him as he brought her left hand to his mouth kissing her knuckles.

“You're my good girl, don’t let ‘em damper the mood tonight.” He smiled at her as the waitress brought the drinks to them, handing it off.

“Yes Si.” She nodded as she followed him back out behind tight against his side.

The night went on and very little trouble appeared.

Maria suggested (y/n) and her take a walk in the vineyard and plan a day out where the two could go with Moira—or Murray for short—and have a shopping spree.

“Ye’ boys be good, I’m takin’ m girl and chatting, don’t worry Simon, she’s with me.” Maria smiled as she put her hand on (y/n)’s waist and walked her into the growing garden of grapes.

“Hold up lassies, Anne, Liliana, go join ‘em.” Soap smiled as he waved them off. “Good fer ye’ gals to figure out their dynamics and then ye’ can have girls' nights.”

“Oh yes, join us.” Maria smiled as she held her disappointment. (Y/n) hid her face dropping as she looked at Simon who gave her a reassuring smile.

Maria would fight on his behalf.

“Let me see, Murray likes the kind of stuff yer’ wearing now. I’m my we’ babes mama, and I’m not good with her fashion even if she is a teen.” Maria laughed. “I could pick out an outfit and she’d yak and say, ‘mam it’s uglier than a tit’.”

(Y/n) giggled at Maria repeating what Murray said.

“Look, teens dress like you too.” Anne snickered and snorted with the other woman, making Maria give them a glare.

“Such…youthful…mmm…” Lilliana tapped her chin. “That’s not the word I’m looking for, more like childish outfits.” Lilliana nodded her head as she sipped her wine. “And you don’t drink wine like an adult, you drink hard cider, probably beer too.”

(Y/n) frowned as she looked ashamed.

“What are ye’ girls yapperin’ about, beer is good, hard cider is better than wine,” Maria corrected them. “And she is fashionable, and me’ daughter is 20, an adult, only 5 years younger then Mrs. Riley here.”

“25 she’s practically a baby.” Anne snorted. “Simon needs a woman, not a girl. Someone who’s mature, honey you don’t fit the bill.” (Y/n) felt that nagging feeling in the back of her head that said: ‘run…run away…no one will find you’. She was starting to think they were right, she was immature and Simon just didn’t know how to tell her that.

“Oh that man loves ya’ beyond all means, yer’ his Persephone.” Maria ignored them. “These fools are just jealous and tootin’ their own horn.”

Maria wasn’t afraid to tell people how it was. She was an outspoken woman. Mr. Price would often tell (y/n) to watch Maria and learn, body language the fact that no fucks were given when she was handling a person who pissed with her family.

Just like that one time a man said Harry sucked at footy. The wretched man said no one would want an imbecile playing footy when he didn’t know his left from his right. Maria, pounced quicker than John who sat back with a can of beer in his hands and a smirk on his face. (Y/n) could remember that one clear-as-day. Simon had leaned over and whispered to her to remind him to never oiss her off. It was terrifying for the two newlyweds nonetheless. (Y/n) was 21, and Simon was 28. The two were afraid they were gonna get a foot up their ass as well for something they did, but didn’t do.

“Let me see your gorgeous wedding rings.” Maria hummed. “He married ya’, and put those precious rings on yer’ finger cause he loves ya’ more than the world.”

Anne and Lilliana paused as they looked at the rings.

Their eyes met one and another as they smiled at each other.

‘Oh dear lord, no. God, no.’ (Y/n) thought to herself.

“Pretty ring,” Lilliana, hummed as they leaned forward. “Can we see?”

(Y/n) hesitated as she knew how important these were to Simon, in fact they were so important to her she hardly let anyone touch her hands.

She showed them from a distance but Anna quickly snatched her hand up making (y/n) squeak out.

“There my mama’s rings baby,” Simon hummed as he smiled at (y/n). “I want ya’ to wear ‘em, they’d look so pretty on your hands.” He kissed your knuckles. “Marry me, pretty girl, make me the happiest man in the whole wild world. Make my mama proud and wear her rings, please baby.” He was so sweet as he proposed to her overlooking Scotland's pretty scenery.

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Atta’ girl,” Simon lurched forward kissing her as he put the engagement ring on her finger. “Let’s keep the other one tucked away safely so when I get to see you in a pretty dress.”

“These are important to me and Simon, please just look.” She gasped as they gripped her fingers tightly.

“Now ye’ brats let her go.” Maria swatted at their hands.

They didn't let go of (y/n)’s hands and actually started to tug on her ring finger. She was trying to push their hands away as she felt her eyes well up.

“Oh she’s a crybaby too, so immature.” Anna laughed.

“Oh it’s so pretty,” Lilliana started to slip the rings off her fingers as (y/n) tried everything to stop her. Maria did as she called them a nasty word in her native tongue, and tried to get the ring back.

“Now ye’ girls need some manners.” Maria snapped at them.

“Be a shame if they got lost, he might leave you then,” Anna snorted at Lilliana’s words.

She didn’t want Simon to leave her. She didn’t want those rings to be lost. She started to cry as she shut down not knowing what to do. Her anxiety was through the roof. She glanced at Maria with pure panic.

(Y/n) felt her breath stop, her whole world stop as they tossed them behind them like they were nothing. Lilliana and Anne threw each one back like they were nothing. Like they were senseless gold or fake jewelry that would tarnish the wearer’s finger green once the coating was off of it.

Her eyes widened as she watched Maria chase after the area they went to but she couldn’t see them because they had rolled. She didn’t know what to do other than to cover her mouth and sob. “My rings.” She whispered as she saw Maria sit up straight and look at her.

The other girls walked off laughing as they went deeper in the vineyard and hadn’t been seen for the hour Maria and (y/n) were in the ground searching.

Her sobs got louder as she lost faith in finding the rings Simon had gifted her.

“Calm down m’babe, go get the boys and they can help search, go get Simon m’love.” She hushed her and pushed her up to the grounds where the boys were sitting and laughing. She had her mouth covered as she sobbed quietly trying not to gain anyone’s attention.

What if Simon left her and the girls blamed her for the lost rings.

He knew better, those two girls had caused you more trouble over their jealousy. It was just that fact that the anxiety and the fear crept up in her mind.

“Her cousin and Farah are tryin’ for a baby,” Simon hummed softly. “Been givin’ me a bit of a baby fever. Never thought I’d be one for having my own kids, but here I am. She’d look gorgeous pregnant.”

His words would have made her heart beat a bit faster if it wasn’t for the fact that her rings were missing.

“(Y/n),” Price shot forward very fatherly over the girl since she didn’t have her father or mother who had sadly passed years ago. and he was the one to walk her down the aisle with Maria. “What’s wrong?”

Her knees were dirty, and her hands looked like they were digging in dirt.

Simon was the first to bolt out of his chair as she refused to look at any of them. Concern was etched on Simon’s face as he knew when she cried there was a reason, whether it was a silly one or not, it was enough to warrant him to coddle her and figure out what was wrong.

Her eyes never left the ground even as Simon cupped her face and tugged her close.

“Baby, what’s got you upset?” He was gentle as Price was behind her shielding her from other passerbys.

She sobbed and covered her mouth as her other hand clung to Simon. She felt light headed and terrified.

She knew she just needed to spit it out. “Maria and I…” she felt a hiccup break her words as she was crying heavily. “We’ve been searching for an hour.” She sniffled as she started to hyperventilate and her words started to get jumbled.

Simon’s heart cleaned as he brushed the hair from her face.

An hour? An hour of searching for what?

He wasn’t understanding, but he knew one thing: wrapping her up in his arms and getting her to calm down was the first thing to do.

“Shh, shh,” he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Shh, love it’s okay, it’s okay.” He smiled at her softly. “Deep breaths, nice and easy for me, pretty girl.”

She did some of that but other than that she was back to babbling and trying to get her words out.

“And I can’t find it.” She sobbed her hands refusing to clutch too tightly to his white shirt, knowing she’ll get it dirty.

Simon's concern deepened as he tried to make sense of (y/n)’s words. "Can't find what, love? What are you looking for?" He continued to hold her against him, one hand gently stroking her back to try and soothe her sobs.

Then her words were finally freed up knowing she needed to convey the message Maria sent her to tell the men.

“The girls asked to see our rings, and Maria and I didn’t know they were going to rip it off my finger. It hurt and we tried to stop them, and they threw both my wedding band and engagement ring.” She sobbed. “It was your mom’s wedding band and engagement ring, I can’t find them.” She felt like bile could escape from her mouth at any second.

“They did what!” Soap looked like he was gonna have a conniption while Gaz covered his mouth as he looked apologetically to the two of them.

Simon's eyes widened in shock as he processed (y/n)’s words. The girls had stolen her rings and thrown them away? And not just any rings, but his mother's wedding band and engagement ring.

Anger boiled within him, but he forced himself to stay calm. (Y/n)’s tears and pain took priority. He held her tighter against him, his voice strained. "Those bloody girls. They’re gonna pay for this.”

“I can’t find them.” She huffed as more tears welled up in her pretty eyes.

“I’m gonna go talk to the manager and make sure they know that we have a missing engagement ring and a missing wedding band.” Price patted Simon on the back. He disappeared quickly as Simon rubbed his wife’s back trying to soothe her as he whispered to her.

“We’re gonna find them baby, I won’t stop looking until they're back in your fingers.” He kissed her cheek. “So breathe baby, we’re not leaving until they're back on your finger.”

“I’m gonna go down with Maria and start searching in the area she thinks she saw them go.” Soap said as he looked at the two of them. “We’ll find them.” He reassured the two.

“Better find them, and you better keep those rotten women away from my wife!” Simon snarled at the two men.

“Yes LT.” They saluted.

Simon stuck close to (y/n) as he tried to calm her rapid heartbeat and her fears that didn’t seem to be washing away until she saw those rings in either his hands or her own hands.

Johnny and Gaz looked in the area’s Maria had pointed to them, while her and John searched the area she swore up and down it landed at.

The doubt and fear hadn’t settled in (y/n)’s stomach, right now she wished it would go away. She was about ready to throw up all that dinner that Simon worked hard to cook her.

“We’re not gonna find them.” She felt her anxieties creep into the back of her mind.

“Baby, we’re not leavin’ until those damn things are back in that hand.” He pointed to her left hand. “I promise you that.” He cupped her face.

“But Simon,” she was exhausted. “What if…what if we don’t find them?” She fretted as she looked at her husband with tears falling down her cheek.

Simon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew how much those rings meant to his wife, and the thought of losing them was torture for him.

He knew from day one they had made her feel special, feel well loved by her husband who adored her so much. She felt like it was her fault she lost them and it was on her now that they were missing not having protected his precious rings.

He gave (y/n)’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll find them, love. I promise. We won't stop until we do.”

It’s all she needed to hear and take in to slowly get back to searching. It had taken him multiple times to finally get it through her head he would have those rings back as soon as he could find them.

“You gave those to me hoping I would keep them safe since they were my engagement and wedding bands but I couldn’t.” She cried softly as she searched the ground near him.

Simon's heart clenched at her words.

Yes, he had given (y/n) his mother's rings with the hope that she’d keep them safe. But he never expected her to be put in this situation. Who would? He’d never expect two girls to be that jealous and put his wife in this much emotional turmoil.

"Love, it's not your fault," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You didn’t ask for this. Those bloody girls had no right to touch your rings. They had no right to touch you, pretty girl.” He stopped and filled her face. “And I’m gonna protect you until the day I die, and if that means tellin’ them girls off, then that’s what the hell I’ll do.”

Their hands searched the ground as their eyes looked everywhere. It wasn’t until thirty minutes later Maria bounced up with excitement and happiness.

“I found one, ye’ lads keep yer’ eyes open for the engagement ring, I found the wedding band!” She shouted happily as she rushed over to (y/n) gently placing the ring on her finger. “Sweet babe, we’ll find it, I promise.”

Simon watched as Maria comforted the woman he loved so dearly. His anger subsided momentarily, replaced by relief and gratitude to Maria for her kindness. There was truly something special about the mother of three.

"We will," he said, agreeing with Maria. His voice was more steady now. "We'll find that engagement ring, even if we have to tear this place apart."

The two of them went back to searching as they looked through the ground as thoroughly as they could.

It wasn’t until another fifteen minutes had passed after Maria came barreling with the wedding band that they had found the engagement ring.

Simon's eyes caught a glint of something shiny among the blades of grass. He crouched down, gently pushing the grass aside to get a clearer view.

His heart nearly stopped as he saw what it was—(y/n)’s engagement ring.

He had found it, he felt his heart flutter as all that stress and worry subsided and it was gone. The relief was back and he couldn’t be happier than ever to present the ring back to his precious wife who had been stressing and withering as the time went on.

"Love, come here," Simon called out, his voice calm but urgent. He motioned for her to come closer, his eyes never leaving the small glint of gold in the grass.

He plucked the object from the ground and smiled seeing the ring shine in the golden rays that were the sun's final moments before the moon came out. “Come now my pretty girl.”

As soon as (y/n) reached his side, he held up the engagement ring, showing it to her. "I found it, love. I found it."

She felt her mind go blank and her eyes well up as she let out a sob lurching forward and hugging Simon.

Simon wrapped his arms around (y/n) holding her tightly in his embrace, tears streaming down her face. He held the woman tight, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"It's alright now," he whispered, his voice soothing. "We found it, love. We found your ring." Simon carefully placed the engagement ring back on his wife’s finger, his touch gentle yet firm. As he did, he couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on her cheek as a way to reassure her everything was alright. "It suits you," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. "It always has. Looks gorgeous on my girl.”

She wiped her eyes as her hands found the back of his neck as her nails scratched into the base of his hair.

“I’m so sorry I lost it,” she murmured into his neck. “I didn’t mean to lose your mama’s ring.”

Simon gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Don't apologize, love," he said softly. "Those girls took them without your consent. It's not your fault. And you didn't lose them—we found them.”

(Y/n) knew Ghost would defend her until his last breath, and even at that, he would transcend and defend her for beyond human measure.

“I love you,” (y/n) said softly.

Ghosts hand gently caressed her face as he wiped her tears away. “Love you too, pretty girl.” His voice was breathy and a whisper.

(Y/n) was glad she wasn’t in the mix when Ghost confronted the two girls. She could hear the words Ghost growled to them as he lectured them on proper treatment of people in general.

He sounded in that moment, more like a lieutenant than he did her husband and it was a strange thing to hear in his voice when he had always been soft and cute with her.

“He’s gonna be a good father.” Maria hummed as she stood proudly with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah he will,” (y/n) smiled as she rocked in her feet back and forth waiting for him to return to her.

When he did return, (y/n! spent the rest of the night tucked to his side constantly on the receiving end of his hushed whispers of love and adoration.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed as she looked up at him.

“Yeah?” She said softly, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“Ready to go home, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on pretty girl,” he smirked at her as she knew that look. “I think I need to remind you how pretty you truly are.”

Those words were a reminder that this night could last even longer than she thought they would.

“Yeah pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

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