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cherie-doll · 5 months ago

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I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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Vampire poly 141 x reader where they don’t tell you they are vampires and you have no reason to suspect they are. Why would you? They are supernatural creatures, you’ve seen all four of them eat garlic bread, their reflections show in mirrors and refelctive surfaces.

But.

Sometimes they say and do such strange things- John talks about historical events almost as if they happened just a few days ago, and he was there. Simon’s storage room has antiques so old you have no idea how they have even survived, and he grumbles whenever you tell him he should sell them to see how much they’ll make. Kyle could navigate through the dark like it was second nature- like it wasn’t affecting him at all, and you’d always just wonder how. Johnny’s hands were always so cold to the touch, no matter tje weather or what he was wearing or where he was.

Still, all of those simply didn’t stick out that much to you. So you never suspected.

But still…

Lately, you’ve been waking up so very sore in the neck, weak and lethargic. Sore in the spot they all seemed to love kissing and nuzzling so much. You are so grateful for their help and care- they ply you with sweets fruits and oily fishes, leafy greens and nuts to help your body, and they hold you in their arms and let you rest as much as you need.

Though it still persists, and it gets especially worse when your period drops by. They are even more attentive, offering massages and forehead kisses and cuddles.

But now you wake up sore in the neck and thighs… as if they’ve been kept in one position for too long. At least you are miraculously very clean when you check, and you have four men spoiling you rotten.

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bi-writes · 1 year ago

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you don't think ghost likes you very much. (part 2 of this, but can be read standalone) (18+, semi-dark content ahead, ghoap x fem!reader)

he doesn't like you. no matter what you do, what you wear, what you say, you know he doesn't approve of you, not really.

not like johnny.

johnny adores the ground you walk on. his lips are always on you. in your ear, along your neck, against your collarbone. his tongue is warm, and it slides along your jaw, around your fingers, sucking on your skin.

"what a nice gift, LT," he always says. "got the nicest pussy 'v e'er had." and then he puts those eyes on, those big, soft, blue ones, and he asks, "can i keep 'er, LT? can i have 'er?"

and johnny is so good. johnny does what he's asked of. johnny says yes, he never says no. johnny smiles and nods and does what he is told, and so johnny gets to have you.

johnny gets to keep you.

but you are a pet, and you are nothing more, and ghost never lets you believe otherwise. he doesn't even give you his name; it's ghost, and ghost only, and he never touches you. not the way the johnny does.

he competes with you, but it isn't a competition. johnny doesn't listen to you, not if ghost contradicts you. he will win, and he will win every time, and even though you are aware of this, he reminds you, all the time.

"johnny, please--" you sob, and he laughs, rubbing his stubble against your thigh gently. it's wet, because he's slobbered all over your cunt, and your hole pulses because it wants more. "johnnny...j-johnny, please--"

"oh, relax, my little lamb..." he sucks your clit into his mouth gently, suckling on the puckered bud. you whine at that, reaching down, pulling on the long strands of hair down the middle of his head, and he groans. "makin' a right mess..."

you're crying. tears falling down your face, pleasure like fire at the base of your spine and crawling up your back, and you reach up and squeeze the swell of your breasts, pulling on your nipples gently. johnny always gets you here--right at the top of a glorious fucking hill, and when you come down it, he carries you, keeping you high for as long as he can before he tries again and again and again--

"fuck are y' doing?" a rough voice growls. johnny's ripped off of you, his back arching as a gloved hand yanks on his head. johnny grunts, hissing, and you whine when you see ghost gripping him by his neck, holding the back of his head to his chest. "spoiled. you spoil her, johnny."

"she's so pretty, LT...i--"

"you spoil her." ghost tilts his head to the side, and you see his eyes narrow, a harsh glare at you from under the mask that makes you shake a little. "spoil her fuckin' rotten."

he doesn't let you come. he's a selfish motherfucker.

you don't know why he doesn't like you. for all intents and purposes, he chose you. and he had all but asked you to leave. tortured you, yes, but he hasn't asked you to leave. he still wants you here, doesn't he? if he hated you, if he was jealous, if he really disapproved of you, a man such as he would just kick you out, wouldn't he?

johnny and ghost are gone today. you're alone, and you've decided to occupy your time by cleaning. you put away the clean dishes, fold the laundry that was stuck in the dryer, pick up around the kitchen. ghost keeps the place very clean--but they were pressed for time in the morning, so johnny left you with the softest kisses, and ghost with just a grunt.

you're arranging fresh flowers in the living room when you hear the front door shut. you bounce into the hallway, a big smile on your face ready to greet johnny, but you freeze when you see only one big shadow shrugging off his rain jacket.

ghost is by himself, and he rolls out his neck as he toes off his boots. he hangs up his jacket, still not looking at you.

"wot?" he snaps. "cat got your tongue, little rabbit?"

you swallow, shaking your head.

"sorry...i thought...thought it was johnny."

"yeah? and wot? just 'cause it's not johnny, gonna not greet me like y'should, yeah?" he bites. you stand still for another minute before coming towards him. you lean up on your toes and kiss his cheek, but when you pull away, he reaches down and grips your ass tight, forcing your pelvis against his and rumbling low. he snarls a little, and you tilt your head back as he presses the front of his mask against your lips, kissing you through it. "tha'sit. good girl."

a soft sound comes out of you, a moan, a whimper, you aren't sure, but he smacks your ass gently, nodding his head.

"go on," he mutters. "on the couch."

he eyes you as you walk away.

"'n why the fuck are y'wearin' all those clothes?"

your insides warm at that, and you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

"oh. sorry." you slide your sweats off and toss them aside. it's then that ghost realizes you're wearing his shirt. he runs a hand over his taut stomach, adjusting himself shamelessly in his jeans as he watches you bend over to get onto the couch. you wear no panties, and he hums under the mask, tilting his head to the side.

"johnny got held up on base," he murmurs, coming into the living room. you take a seat on the couch, looking up at him, squeezing your thighs together.

"so...we're all alone?" you ask. this is your chance. this is the opportunity you have been waiting for. with no johnny to distract him, all he has is you, and he can't ignore you. not this time.

"all alone, sweetheart."

you swallow hard. "why don't you like me?"

the question is blunt and clear. ghost clicks his tongue under the mask, focusing on you, and he shakes his head.

"tha' isn't wot it is."

"then what is it?"

he just stares, and you shake your head. you need answers. you need to know what you're doing wrong--you want to be good.

"not you, luvie. it's my boy, my poor johnny..." you watch as he grips himself through his jeans again, visibly hard as he squeezes his cock over his zipper. "fuckin' annoying when he isn't the center of attention. my attention. you understand, right?"

you watch him, licking your bottom lip.

"b-but...but--"

"turns into a bloody muppet. pouts like a baby." ghost comes closer, leaning over you, gripping your chin gently. "wot, huh? thought i didn't want y'around?" you whimper when he squeezes your face between his big hand, squishing your cheeks. "'n how could i not, yeah? look at ya..."

he growls under the mask.

"y'wet, sweetheart?" he asks, and you lean back, spreading your knees, and he grunts when he sees between your thighs. the skin is wet, soft and slick, and he hums lowly when he sees how you clench around nothing. "wanna taste, luv. give it t'me."

you reach down gently, sliding two fingers through your folds. you whine a little, scooping a nice handful of slick, and then you pick up your fingers for him. he pushes his mask up, and you shiver when you see the wicked grin on his scarred face. then he takes your fingers into his mouth.

he leans over you. his mouth his hot, and you shake a little when his tongue slips over your fingers, warm muscle swallowing as he tastes you.

"fuckin' hell," he murmurs when he lets your fingers go. "know why johnny spends all his time down there, yeah?"

you giggle, arching your back a little, pulling his shirt up.

"ghost...why dont...why dont you come here?" you reach for the waistband of his pants, tugging gently, and he falls over you on the couch. you meet his eyes as you start to unbutton his jeans. "i want you to spend time here, too, y'know."

"tha' right, sweetheart?"

you smile, "y-yeah." you unzip his pants, your jaw falling open when you pull him out. he's so big, nice and girthy and pretty, and the tip is so pink, dribbling precum and just aching for your tongue to taste him. you rub your thumb over the tip, and he hisses. "and...a-and i love johnny..." you look back up into his eyes. "b-but...i..."

he reaches around and fists your hair, growling against your lips.

"need a right beast to fuck this pretty pussy, yeah? need someone to--" you cry out as he yanks your head back, exposing your neck to him. "--fuckin' ruin ya."

you squeal, arching your back, and he chuckles, but it's mean. you wrap your arms around his neck, and he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

"yah, luv, y'r mine, just as much as johnny--" you gasp when he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, "y'belong to me. gonna write my name across your fuckin' cunt, sweetheart, fuck that idea right into your pretty head--"

you cry when he fucks you. when he sits up on his knees, gripping you from under your thighs, fucking into you with a reckless rhythm that leaves your thighs shaking and warm tears coming down your face.

"look at you..." ghost hisses, and you cry more, keening as he stares down at where you're connected and the squelch of you dribbles down his thighs. "bloody hell..."

your back bows, your thighs clamping around ghost's hips as he fucks you into the mattress. you can barely think, the only sensation you can really absorb is the way his thighs smack against your ass and the feel of his big, gloved hands spreading you open.

"just needed me right here, yeah?" ghost grunts, slowing his pace as he nestles his pelvis right against yours. you whine; he's so deep, it hurts, but it hurts so good, you don't tell him to stop, you can't. he's so much bigger than johnny, in every way, and you feel suffocated, but if this is how you die, so be it. getting fucked brainless is not the worst way to go, not like this. you gasp when he smooths a big hand over your stomach, pressing the pad of his thumb to where you know the tip of his cock sits. "right there, luv, tha' place is for me, yeah? 's mine, my spot--"

ghost leans down, growling against your neck, a firm grind of his hips punching your cervix again. you claw at ghost's back, and it's painfully obvious how desperate you are--you nearly rip ghost's shirt in pieces.

"this place is for me," he murmurs, spreading his fingers. he grips your waist in both hands and gives you a hard thrust, leaning his head back as he feels you clench hard. you like it when he talks, he can tell--the sound of his voice has you that much wetter, and he clicks his tongue as he leans back, rubbing a gloved thumb over your pretty little clit. "wanna live here...want ya to be my little pet..." he smirks under the mask when you cry, so sensitive. "whenever i want, want you bent over, spread nice 'n wide f'me." he hums low, "whenever i want, yeah?"

he talks like you aren't there. like he isn't cock-deep inside of you, molding the soft places of your pussy to the shape of him. ghost, despite being a little breathless, has no tremble in his voice despite how hot he feels, and he knows, suddenly, why johnny fawns over you. there is nothing that compares to this--there is nothing quite like fucking this pretty princess, watching her tits bounce, her thighs shake, feeling how soft and lovely she is when he gets her right where she belongs--stupid and cumming.

"a princess ya are, yeah?" ghost chuckles. "a right spoiled one, innit?"

and maybe you are a little spoiled. you had no idea you would be getting two for one--johnny and his looming shadow.

you grip ghost's shirt from the front tight, balling it up in tight fists and pulling him close.

"please!" you squeal. "please, please, please--" you moan and sob against the front of his mask. "w-wanted you for so long--w-wanted--"

"ya did?" ghost tilts his head to the side, picking up the pace. he cradles your head between his arms, pressing his face to yours. "even though i was a bastard?"

you mewl, nodding, reaching down and gripping his lower back as he grinds mercilessly. the curls at the base of his cock are rubbing against your clit now, and you angle your hips to catch the feeling every time, and you know you're getting close. you're there.

"almost said your name--" you gasp. "w-when...when he..."

"poor thing--" he chuckles. "thought johnny was what you wanted?" he knows you like the way he's fucking you, and he slows down, wanting to see your face and every expression you make. "what you needed?"

you nod. "i need him," you whisper. "but it isn't enough."

"no, you're such a greedy bunny--" he grips your face tight, sitting up, and you cry when he fucks you. he's an animal, he's lost control, and you are helpless under him. all you can do is spread your knees wider and moan. "johnny can't tame you, but i can, yeah?"

you meet his eyes, big and soft and wet, and he hisses. the look in your eyes, he cums instantly, falling over you and barely having enough time to put his hand out and catch himself. you gasp at the feeling, reaching down, and with a few soft circles of your fingers, ghost lets out a strangled sound as he feels you tighten and cum. the front of his thighs are soaked, and he nudges your chin up with his nose as he breathes in the scent of you from your neck.

"don't say of word of this to 'im, yeah? got ourselves a jealous little bastard," he murmurs against your ear. you nod, and when he kisses you, you can't help the way you relax. cupping his scarred face, licking into his mouth--ghost is your keeper, and he's johnny's keeper, and you know suddenly why johnny does whatever he says, whenever he wants.

ghost is in charge. he just is, and even though you're just a little, innocent civilian, ghost has given you orders, and you will follow them. there is a soft, aching place inside of you that wants to please him so badly--wants to impress him, show him how good you can be. and you imagine, wonder, if johnny has that same feeling in him, that same little press on the inside of his ribs that screams, be a good boy, a good girl, do just as he says, he'll give such a nice reward.

and when johnny comes home, there you are, all soft smiles and tender touches and little giggles that make his belly hurt so nice. and when he tells you he's hungry, you spread your legs, using two fingers to show him your pretty, wet cunt. and he dives in, like he always does, because one of his favorite places is feeling the rub of your thighs against his stubble and your fingers tugging his hair.

his tongue spreads your folds, and he hums with delight when you fall onto your back, pliant and soft and warm. and then he tastes you, and he swallows, and his eyes flicker when there is something else there, something that he knows.

johnny's eyes dart up, looking over you, and he can see ghost lingering in the doorway, watching, and then johnny understands what it is he tastes--and why he likes it so fucking much, and why it tastes like something he knows.

he meets ghost's eyes, and they look at each other, and johnny knows what it is that he's done, what it is he's eating out of you. but ghost knows johnny is a good boy, and he won't pull away, he won't make a scene. no. johnny pulls back a little, wiping his face.

he smiles. and then he leans in for more.

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aestas---estas · 15 days ago

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Death of Peace of Mind

MDNI 18+ | Read on AO3 | Written for February writing challenge, with the prompt "Ghoap x Reader body heat trope" | fem!reader, established poly relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, unreliable narrator, emotional sex, vaginal fingering, handjobs, male masturbation

It's hard asking for help, wounds his pride and gives a massive blow to his ego. He's supposed to be good, to be solid, and most of the time he is — he stuffs any vulnerability and hurtful memories into a box and locks it behind a door in the deepest and darkest corner of his mind.

But not even Simon is immune from nightmares, from a stray memory winding its way out through the keyhole and slowly creeping up on him. And once he acknowledges that single prickling pain, the door he tries to keep firmly closed bursts open.

Simon could hear the soft buzzing of Johnny's shaver, your voice melodically drifting over both it and the blasting shower as you hummed along to some tune in your head.

You were preparing for a date night, all three of you; or... at least all three were supposed to prepare. You were occupying the shower, and Simon could practically see you in his mind's eye. Could see the way your shampoo lathered, dripping from the ends of your hair before getting washed down the drain. Could see you scrubbing away dead skin and rub scented suds over it to clean it. Could see how your eyes fell close and your head tipped back.

And Johnny, adorable and excitable Johnny, was taking up all the space in front of the mirror as he glided the electric shaver across his cheeks, chin and down his neck. He could see his adorable pout of concentration, how the tip of his tongue just barely stuck out from between his lips. Could see how he shuffled on his feet to try and get closer to the mirror only for it to fog up in just a few seconds — Simon could bet the heat exuding from your shower wasn't helping either.

Simon was supposed to nip out to the shops, to demand some poor worker arrange a bouquet worthy of you, before coming back to put the flowers in a vase along with a card courtesy of both him and Johnny.

It was the perfect plan really — Johnny could keep anyone occupied with his incessant yet charming never ending flow of words, the florist’s wasn't far and Simon always ran errands faster than either you or Johnny. The men had no doubt in their minds they could pull off this surprise, and the look on your face would be enough to tide them over for weeks.

The perfect plan. Yet Simon had not moved from his spot on the edge of the bed since you announced it was time for you to start getting ready; still only dressed in his old joggers, staring out into space.

It had started small; a fond smile and adoring eyes as he watched you strip down to your underwear, the thought of how lucky he was to have both you and Johnny striking him like a lightning bolt, how he would hate to lose either of you, how he would shut himself in until he fell apart. And once that latter seed was planted, its roots burrowing and twisting into something ugly, it was over for him.

Unworthy.

Unlovable.

Rotten from the inside and out.

It bounced around in his head, pounding on the walls and screaming for him to get out, to destroy what little happiness life had granted him before the rug could be pulled out from under him — he didn't deserve it anyway.

The shower turned off and Simon knew he should snap himself out of it, should greet you with an appreciative noise and obvious ogling before teasingly scold you for probably using up all the hot water. But when you entered the bedroom, still giggling at something Johnny had said, he stayed frozen. Your laughter died quickly when you spotted him and fuck he could kick himself for souring your mood.

“Simon?” you said softly as you moved slowly and gingerly over to him, stopping just before your knees made contact with his.

‘Can we cancel tonight?’

The unspoken request tasted like bile where it sat on the tip of his tongue. He shouldn’t ruin your date night just because he couldn’t get a handle on his mind, shouldn’t pull you down into the dark depths with him.

The buzzing of the razor quieted and his head pounded with the sudden silence; charged, heavy. He knew he had only seconds before Johnny emerged, knew if the scot got a glimpse of Simon’s pinched eyebrows and unfocused gaze, he would know what was going on in a heartbeat — it wasn’t the first, nor last, time the spiral had surfaced.

So, like a coward, Simon hid; leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous arrangement, but it was the best option his fractured mind could conjure other than taking off.

The bathroom door creaked open again and–

“Si?” Johnny asked as he padded over to the bed, voice so cautious it wrapped Simon’s heart uncomfortably tight in guilt.

“Talk to us,” you said, not quite begging yet something disturbingly close for his taste.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, screwing his eyes shut, as if he could lock everything back up if he just closed them hard enough.

There was some indistinct shuffling before your hands gently pried Simon’s away from his face, cupping his chin so he would look at you. Tears he was too stubborn to let fall were welling up in his eyes, the fear and anger in them twisting painfully in your gut.

"Is touch okay?" you whispered despite the physical contact you had already initiated.

Simon nodded wordlessly and, without preamble or a chance for him to protest, you climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs as you wrapped your arms around his head to pull him flush against your chest.

Your eyes met Johnny's and you nodded for him to take place behind Simon, to make sure he was surrounded by love and warmth, both metaphorically and literally.

"What are you doing?"

"Warming you up. You were shivering so I assumed you were cold," you said, the faux nonchalance in your voice clear as day, but appreciated nonetheless. Simon was far from cold, in fact, his skin was clammy to the touch and he knew it was only a matter of time before you’d deem him too hot, too disgusting to keep in your arms.

"Aye," he heard Johnny chime in from behind him, the bed dipping as he shuffled on his knees until he could press his cheek against Simon's back and wind his arms around his middle. "Only cuddling for warmth."

A wet chuckle slipped from Simon’s lips and he could feel your body relax at the sound. He was surrounded by love; your hands petted his hair, fingers carding through the blonde locks calmingly, and Johnny hummed gently behind him, stroking up and down his abdomen absentmindedly.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked once the stiffness of his shoulders relaxed, the heaviness of his exhales lessening.

For a few moments he tried to find the words, tried to explain the horrible curling and cold twisting, but his voice came out stuttered and it was like twisting a knife. So instead he buried his face back against your chest.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, the request vibrating from his low voice straight into the hearts of his partners, piercing them like an arrow soaked in fear and longing. Johnny’s arms tightened around Simon’s middle even as he felt his head angle to catch your eyes.

Simon didn’t know what sort of quiet conversation was happening above his head, and normally he’d feel out of place, thrown to the side, discarded. But he could feel the energy shift into something softer and it soothed his anxiety, even if just a smidge.

“Of course you can, baby. Will that help?”

Your question went unanswered, at least verbally because barely a second later Simon’s lips pressed softly, hesitantly, against your clavicle. So gentle at first, as if afraid you’d break under his touch, afraid his love would be too much even when all the time you’d spent together proved the opposite.

“We love ye, Si,” Johnny spoke gently as his hands began to wander again, featherlight touches against Simon’s chest and stomach that only grew more purposeful with time. “Love ye so much.”

Simon's so attuned to your body and its language that even the faintest twitch never goes unnoticed, so he knew that you wanted to chime in with your own words of love and adoration, could feel the need to fix something that wasn’t your problem to fix practically vibrating through your chest with every stuttering breath and galloping heartbeat. But Simon’s mouth was moving up to the crook of your neck, licking at the droplets of water that had fallen from your hair, his teeth grazing your skin before sucking a bruise into your pulse point in a way he knew had your head swimming in the clouds of lust.

Johnny’s hand slid down the front of Simon’s joggers, causing the taller man to let out a deep groan against your skin as Johnny’s fingers wrapped around his hardening cock — gently and slowly stroking the length, mouth pressing kisses and words of reassurance and love against the side of his neck. His misguided fears, the lies he had spun until they looked like truths, were being dismantled brick by brick by Johnny’s fractured whispers; love ye, ye’r enough, willnae leave.

You cradled his cheeks in your hands, manoeuvring his head until his dark eyes found yours, your voice finally finding itself again. “We love you,” you said, breathing the words against Simon’s lips like you were breathing life back into his very soul. His eyes fluttered from the combined stimulations as Johnny managed to work the waistband down to rest comfortably underneath Simon’s balls, using his palm to spread the precum already leaking from the tip down the thick shaft.

A broken moan escaped Simon when you leaned down to finally slot your lips over his, his hands gripping hard to your hips, fingers sinking into your flesh — a harsh divergence from the near reverent touches prior. He wasn’t afraid to break you anymore, he was afraid to lose you.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, licking behind his teeth and swallowing every stuttering moan and hitching breath that Johnny coaxed out of him, making his cock throb and fire surge through his veins.

Simon’s head fell back on a particularly pleasurable downstroke, but you didn’t let that deter you; only aiming your kisses over his cheeks and down his throat, seemingly determined to kiss every single ounce of love in your body into him. You probably could’ve been content lavishing his skin with your lips and tongue, but when his hands slid up over the towel you wore, unravelling it with a simple tug, the sound that rumbled through you was needy and raw.

Simon’s fingers slid up the back of your neck, tangling themselves in your hair before pulling you away from his collarbone with gentle yet determined force. He knew your lips wouldn’t be lonely for long, though, not with the way Johnny’s kisses had grown sloppier and more desperate for reciprocation. Barely a breath later Johnny’s mouth had left Simon’s skin, traded instead for your lips; still with the same open enthusiasm he had bestowed on Simon.

“Fuck,” Simon groaned as he unabashedly stared at his two partners, cupping one of your breasts in a hand as he thumbed over the nipple.

“Goin’ tae make ye feel so good,” Johnny breathed against your lips and Simon wasn’t sure who exactly the other man was talking about, but it didn’t matter, not when his cock was embraced in a tight and determined fist, not when his own hands were full of you, not when he was blessed with the vision of perfection.

A simple tug on your hair made your head fall back; so easily, so trusting as you let Simon guide you until you were staring up into the ceiling.

“What do you need, Simon?” you asked breathlessly, chest already heaving.

For a few moments the room stayed quiet except for the wet noises of Johnny tugging on Simon’s cock, slow and methodical with just enough pressure to leave him wanting more.

��Need to touch you,” he finally answered, lips brushing against the nipple he had toyed with, tongue flicking against it to further tease you.

“Then touch me,” you said without hesitation, lips tugged in a lazy smile and eyes closed in a perfect expression of anticipation as Simon’s hand left your breast to instead stroke down your sternum before falling to your thigh.

Simon’s chest rumbled as something akin to a growl crawled out of his throat before he closed his lips around your nipple, rolling it between his teeth with just enough pressure to stay on the right side of pain and pleasure. His other hand was still in your hair, keeping you in place, while the one on your thigh crept higher and higher until his fingers found what they were looking for.

“Christ, swee’heart,” Simon mumbled as he slid two fingers between your folds, “so wet already.” Behind him, Johnny moaned at the revelation, his strokes stuttering slightly as he fished his own cock out of his boxers to tug on in tandem — hissing as he swiped a thumb over the already weeping head.

You let out a needy moan as Simon gathered some of your slick before circling the now wet fingers around your swollen, neglected clit, hips stuttering to meet his touch, to try and increase the pressure.

“Please,” you begged and Simon took pity on you, releasing the hold on your hair which gave you the freedom to surge down and find his lips again, sliding your tongue in his mouth with little fanfare. It was messy, sloppy, more emotion than technique; but it was still one of the best kisses he had experienced — because it was you, and it was Johnny, and it was love.

“Listen tae her. Poor lovie wants us, wants ye,” Johnny said, kissing his words into Simon’s shoulder like a scorching brand and calming balm rolled into one. His words soothing something deep within him, the beginning works of gluing the fractures in his heart with gold and shrinking the monsters in his mind until they’re nothing but specks.

You nodded your agreement, practically grinding down on Simon’s hand as his movements grew more frantic, less focused. “Want you,” you whimpered.

“Fuck,” Simon groaned again, leaning his forehead against yours as he sunk two fingers knuckle deep in your cunt for you to ride. With one hand on his shoulder, your eyes never left his, even as your free hand sought out Johnny — you had always needed contact, a grounding force, a hand you could squeeze the life out of when you climbed toward an orgasm. And Simon knew Johnny would give it to you, knew he could never deny you a request so sweet no matter how neglected his leaking cock felt.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, and almost as soon as the words left your mouth your thighs locked up, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as bliss and ecstasy washed over you — your cunt fluttering around Simon’s fingers, clit throbbing under his thumb, nails digging into his shoulder.

“Just like tha’,” Johnny said gently, the praise sweet yet coated in undeniable lust, “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Simon whispered, the agreeance falling from his lips before his brain had a chance to overthink and stop it. The tight circles he had been pressing against your clit slowed, drawing your climax out for as long as possible, before halting entirely once the aftershocks had calmed.

He slid his fingers out of you slowly, taking care not to overstimulate your sensitive flesh, granting you freedom to seat yourself back down comfortably in his lap. You let go of Johnny’s hand to instead cradle Simon’s face once more, his eyes closing as you laid gentle kisses across his jaw, cheeks, nose, brows; anywhere and everywhere.

A soft smile blossomed on his face before a moan tore through his throat as Johnny sped up his strokes of Simon’s cock, now determined to let the other man find his release.

“You want me on the floor or like this?” you whispered against Simon’s cheek, prepared to sink to your knees and catch his cum with your tongue. But he only wrapped his arms tight around you and buried his head in the crook of your neck before cumming with a choked groan; hips stuttering and fists tightening as his climax painted your skin and dripped down over Johnny’s hand.

Barely even missing a beat, Johnny released Simon’s softening cock and wiped most of the cum away from your body before moving the messy hand to his own dick. Using the spend as lube he set a relentless pace, fucking his hand until his mess mixed with Simon’s in just a few thrusts.

And when it was over — bodies once again clean after you forced the two men to take another shower with you —, Simon laid on his side in the middle of the bed, Johnny pressed against his back and you pulled close to his chest, the fears soothed and the box once again locked tight in the recesses of his mind — lighter than before — you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand before tucking it right over your heart.

“Not cold anymore?” you asked and your body shook as Simon’s chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“No,” he said and kissed the back of your head, “warmed me right up, you did.”

--- CoD Masterlist

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kortac-sweetheart · 1 month ago

Text

intro & masterlist☆～（ゝ。∂）

GIF by shadow0-1

i'm leon, i'm 19 and i love to write! (MDNI i write 18+ sometimes)

asks: OPEN

requests: OPEN (i write exclusively gn/transmale readers, rqs asking for fem readers will be ignored)

anons super duper welcome!! don’t be shy, i don’t bite i love talking with you!!

i write for:

KORTAC:

nikto

krueger

konig

horangi

oni

velikan

SPECGRU:

ghost

roach

soap

MISC:

keegan

bell

MASTERLIST:

fave pieces -> ★

fluff -> ☆

angst -> ☾

suggestive/nsfw -> ♡

yandere -> ♪

leashed (krueger and nikto x reader) ☆

plot bunny: casual intimacy (krueger and nikto) ☆♡

pinned under nikto's weight ☆

public transport w/ nikto and krueger ☆★

valentine's day special (krueger and nikto)☆

a/b/o what they smell like (ramble) w/ nikto and krueger ☆

plot bunny: boyfriend tax w/ krueger (ft nikto)☆

thirsting over nikto #1 ♡

prince/ss treatment w/ krueger and nikto ☆

nikto keeps you warm ☆

super duper affectionate johnny and you☆★

roach cant handle allat ♡

we'll take care of you/it's rotten work (krueger and nikto)☆

traitor!141 au, reader has different trauma response PT1 ☾★

traitor!141 au, diff trauma response, loved by kortac FIN ☆☾★

nikto eats burgers like a FREAK ♡

nikto is dtf ♡

thirsting over nikto #2 ♡

snow leopard hybrid nikto and snowshoe hare you ☆

sweet dessert drabbles (krueger, nikto, simon, johnny, roach) ☆★

jasmine was your favorite flower w/ nikto ☆☾

kodiac bear hybrid nikto and green mamba hybrid krueger ☆

self indulgent drabbles w/krueger, nikto, simon, johnny, roach ☆★

nikto likes your real smile ☆

nikto hunts you in the woods ♡

special wedding anniversary gift from nikto ☆

nikto's favorite color is yellow ☆

horangi is your #1 hypeman ☆

relationships are give and take ♡

your dog nikto ☆★

nikto and waterfront watching ☆

sweet & silly dessert thoughts pt2. (horangi, oni, keegan, velikan) ☆

hybrid kortac thoughts ☆

soon to be husband nikto ☆

rifle practice with nikto ♡

nikto w/ cuteness agression ☆

casual intimacy with roach ☆

kortac possessiveness (traitor 141 au) ☆

yandere konig thoughts ♪ ☆

09 ghost and roach poly relationship thoughts ☆

overstimming krueger ♡

nikto likes how you smell ☆★

cuddle hcs (nikto, krueger, horangi, konig, oni, velikan, roach, soap, ghost and keegan) ☆★

nikto takes care of you on your period ☆

househusband nikto thoughts ☆

househusband nikto thoughts pt2 ☆

09 ghost and roach loves your kisses ☆

nikto with a clumsy darling ☆

nikto's little slice of heaven ☆

darling with chubby cheeks (nikto, johnny + simon) ☆

keegan in retirement #1 ☆

keegan in retirement #2 ☆

oddball darling (nikto, krueger, konig, simon, johnny) ☆

johnny's sweet and shy darling ☆

who serves you their heart? who serves you other's hearts? (nikto, krueger, simon, keegan, horangi, oni, johnny, roach, konig, velikan) ☆

andre "chew toy" nikto ☆

romantic oni hcs ☆

simon and his teasing partner ☆

biting nikto ☆

nikto is work song by hozier coded ☆

johnny takes care of you on your period ☆♡

giving up control is the ultimate freedom ☆

retirement w/ johnny #1 ☆

taking care of johnny ☆

you are nikto's heart ☆

kortac cuddle pile #1 ☆

putting johnny in a headlock ☆♡

nikto loves helping you ☆

domestic life with bell ☆

cuddling with bell ☆

domestic life with bell #2 ☆

nikto gives you another very special gift ☆♪

keegan comforts you after a shitty week ☆

househusband nikto thoughts pt3 ☆

simon "fumbler" riley fails to court a very oblivious/autistic lovie ☆

"you erode my edges and turn me into love" w/ nikto ☆

congrats on having two househusbands now w/kruegernikto ☆

simon finally stops fumbling you ☆

"you're quiet. i like that." w/ nikto ☆

simon riley ogles over your body for about 10 paragraphs ☆

simon eats well ☆

guard dog simon riley (fumbler series) ☆

cuddles w/ snow leopard hybrid keegan ☆

omega keegan and alpha logan help you through heat (like actual heat, as in a fever) ☆

nikto loves wearing a collar ☆

tiny service sub nikto and service dom bell thoughts ☆

beloved anons:

simp anon ❤️

divider cred: @/kodaswrld @/notaorbital @/nicodefresas

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bitin-and-barkin · 10 months ago

Text

Loving Someone

What would the healing process be like after your so-called death?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, mostly just filler and going into the mind of Arthur, he's so goddamned anxious, paranoid too, tw: talks of suicide, execution, death, and other bad stuff, no smut, mostly just arthur having a mental break, probably out of character, he's starting to go yandere, tw: yandere-esque behaviour

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 3 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 2 here

__________________________

Arthur had lost people before.

When Eliza and Isaac had first died, he was only able to ever see their graves. Already buried, a cross put up. One moment they were there, and the next?

They were gone.

When he lost his Pa, he was young. Small and feeble. Sitting in the crowd, silently attending his own father's execution.

His Pa hanged him in front of him.

He wasn't sure how to react when it happened. Whenever someone was hanged there was always someone crying at the stands or nobody there who knew them well enough to weep for them.

But when he looked at his dad, there wasn't much of a father there to mourn. Just bits and pieces of one.

When his Mama died, he wasn't there to see it. Only the aftermath. Her throat leaking red, and her eyes glossed over. A certain shade of purple on her neck and face. The sun shone off her blood like something holy was done.

He was much younger at that time, so he didn't really understand what happened. Death, that is. Nobody had ever bothered to explain it to him. It had always been a part of his life.

In the wolves howling at night, mauling a buck, leaving its insides on its outsides and in the sunlight to rot.

In the knobby, motionless, dogs on the side of the streets and in the quiet, grey toned graveyard in town.

So he could tell that something was wrong. He just didn't have a name for it.

He could see it though.

That there was some sort of new emptiness inside of her.

He had always carried that emptiness with him. An unspoken thing, it was the burden he bore.

People had come and gone. As time passed, it grew bigger and bigger.

And so he filled it with money, and heists, and grand plans and demands from others.

Alcohol and blood, his own and others among other things.

As he got older whenever he thought back to his mother he wondered if she really birthed a baby boy and not just a hole that would never fill.

Always wanting more and more.

Always hungry, swallowing everything down. Every complaint and request, finishing them. Handing it to them on a silver platter.

Never spitting anything out, but always coming back when others' plates are full.

Nobody ever really said anything. It was convenient. Having a yes man, a loyal one, a Johnny on the spot.

You had realized this behavior a long time ago. He's always choking on his food but saying he could handle more.

But when you walked in, for once he was full.

For once he was loved.

And although he wasn't made for intimacy, nothing was able to take that away from him.

During the day he could feel your love underneath his fingernails and in the clothes that you sewed up for him and in the bird songs you'd always stop to listen to.

You were always a constant for him. He loved you like a fire loved its hearth. With enough love to make it home.

You gave him life.

And he knew he didn't deserve his.

He knew he wasn’t a good man.

There was always a hope that some way the bad inside of him would be able to serve the good inside of you.

And that maybe one day he could make himself worthy of being in love with you.

He always cared for you in the only way he knew how.

With bruised knuckles and busted lips,

Slow dancing into the night with you and the blood in his mouth.

Acting and your sweet darling and as your perfect killer and as your rotten soldier.

Doing it all if it all meant you would still smile at him in the mornings and nights.

Doing it all if it meant you would fill that void inside of him and stop it from swallowing him whole.

You had grown used to it.

He was protective, that was it.

He was the protector. Doing the sinned slaughter that would save the people.

And you couldn't say you didn't appreciate being prized by him.

Prized more than anything else in the world.

But this? This was something entirely new.

You didn't know much about loving others, your life hadn't afforded you it, and neither did Arthur.

But you knew this wasn't what love was supposed to be like.

Acting like a wild animal in a way. Backed into a corner by life itself.

1 week in and Arthur had practically snarled at Sean when he tried to drag him away from your bedside to a job.

2 weeks in and he had bashed a couple of Bill's teeth in for making a joke about you.

Commenting about how your love seemed to be one only made so you could lick each other's wounds.

He called it unsightly. The blood on his face afterwards wasn't too pretty either.

The way he was acting proved his point, though. Like everyone was your enemy and the entire world was too, too much.

He was finding his vices in you.

Only you.

Not in the normal way, the way a woman would look for her wife at the end of the day.

It wasn't in the sex or the looks or the meaningless chatter or even the comforting familiarity.

It was the edges of your fingertips, and in the rasp in your voice.

It seemed to be just you in its entirety.

Like a breath of fresh air.

The point is, a month had passed since you came back. You were healing. Arthur wasn't.

And now you had a problem.

You wanted to get back to jobs. Sure, it was a bit early. There was a odd ache in your arms here and there and when you bent over, you swear there would still be a phantom feeling of blood and Guarma Rum dripping down your back.

It was the O'Driscolls favorite after all.

But mostly, you were healed. Dutch had even cleared you for the smaller jobs. You knew, he knew, everybody in camp knew.

Except Arthur. Except him.

Approachable wasn't the way to describe him.

At least for anybody but you.

He had killed hundreds over the years in the name of Dutch's ideals.

But you were always so soft in his arms despite it all.

You trusted him.

But you're not sure if he trusted you.

With this, in specific. With your life.

You weren't sure how he'd react when you approached.

It was nearing 11 PM when you finally came.

Wolves howling at the moon miles away, people singing and swaying at the campfire after a long day.

Arthur was among them.

You told him you wanted to meet him there, that you needed to finish something up.

In reality you just needed a moment to think of a way to do something impossible.

To convince him that you were okay.

He was sitting there waiting for you.

You quietly walked over.

He was drinking at the campfire, his leg bouncing up and down. Trying to play it cool, but you could see through it. He was getting antsy.

Best not to keep him waiting.

Sitting next to him, he softly smiled the moment he saw you.

A quiet smile, one that only you could fish out of him.

Only you.

Placing his hand on and over yours.

Carving his fingers between yours.

He didn't say anything as he did. It was second nature.

"Arthur."

His eyes flicked towards yours, turning away from the campfire.

"Hm?"

You breathed out.

The smog from the campfire still dancing in the air.

"How are you?"

"I feel fine." He hummed. He seemed satisfied with you by his side.

You smiled.

"Good." He slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in just a little bit closer.

You guys talked for a little bit. About your days, what you did.

It was nothing exciting, but it meant the world to him.

His head was filled with honey. You words lazily coating his brain, sinking him into the ground as everything else faded into background noise.

Just you and him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm going on jobs again."

Now? His thoughts ran silent.

His lips pursed, cutting off his breath. He looked around camp.

It was such a quick difference, like lightning and thunder. A crackle through the air. Nervous electricity still coursing around.

Scanning the area with his eyes for he didn't know what. A reason, maybe.

Everybody was still laughing at little nothings, but it felt like they were jeering at him.

He turned his eyes back to you. He was nervous, that was to be expected. Just tell him you would be fine, and he would be fine too.

Except it wasn't that simple.

"Why?"

You raised your eyebrows at this. He kept talking, never meeting your gaze.

"You don't need to go out, especially not so early after you got back,"

He nervously chuckled.

"I mean, is Dutch really nagging you that much?"

You weren't sure how to tell him you brought it up to Dutch.

Stuttering over his words, he kept talking.

"Do we really need money that much?"

"I heard of this stagecoach up near Flatneck Station, from what I've seen it's always something expensive they're carrying. Could make an easy pretty penny for us, real easy."

"Just yesterday you were tellin' me that your back hurts, and we're still changin' out your bandages every single day."

"You really oughta just stay here. Really."

His head was turned away. He has stopped talking after he kept stumbling over his words. His voice changing into meaningless hums.

Thoughts running through his head like an electrical current. Or maybe more like a bullet in the barrel of a frictionless gun.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

At any other time he would've muttered something sweet but clever or placed his hand back on yours and pulled you forward into his arms.

But now his head shot back like it was an order.

Looking at you, his face was indescribable.

Wild eyed. Ashamed of something.

Afraid even.

You were scared. You were both scared.

Was something more or less scary if you were next to someone who was equally as afraid walking into it?

You couldn't imagine all the bad things that could happen. Having to walk into a town of Raiders and Outlaws.

You weren't fragile.

You were scared, but..

It was like an open wound for you at this point. Painful and gaping, but slowly healing.

You still suffered for it every day, an ache at the back of your head. But you were healing, making good, no great process.

You were talking and walking and had come so far from before.

He had pushed you to stay home while healing, tearing others a new one for trying to even just put you on guard. Looked like he was gonna have a heart attack when you were "straining your back" by just carrying hay.

Looking into his eyes now, there was something new in them. Confusion. Abandonment. Hurt.

He didn't understand why you were doing this.

You were moving past it.

You knew he loved you but,

Why did it still seem like the entire world to him?

You brushed your hands against his stock-still face as he stared far past your gaze.

Was he okay?

"Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything.

There was a certain ringing in his ears as you spoke. More like a flatline than anything.

He was silent. Didn't respond.

But what was he supposed to tell you?

He knew he was overreacting, that he was being dramatic and controlling but he couldn't shake the feeling that...

How was he supposed to tell a knife there was nothing funny about spilling blood?

He didn't see any blood but he could feel himself bleeding.

His grip on his pants tightened. He tried to drag the conversation away, simply saying you guys could talk about it in the morning. That you were both tired. That you could discuss it with a clear head later.

You seemed hesitant at best. You said there was nothing to talk about later. Almost seeming confused.

For 6 months he couldn't bear the idea of you being dead. And so many times he woke up he prayed this day would be the last. So many times he stared at the gun, the knife, the rope. Sitting by your tent waiting for you to show up like old times.

You were going to be fine. You were going to be fine on your own. Weren't you?

Were you?

It was irrational, really. Overdramatic, stupid, a million other labels. Primal, even.

He could not make you understand. He couldn't make anybody else understand what he was feeling whenever he saw you. He couldn't even understand it himself.

What was he supposed to say? That he never could've done anything he did without you? That he'd never forsake you? That he needed you to support him? That you were the only person in his entire life that loved him? That you were his only friend? That he only loved you? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that mattered? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that made sense? That he didn't love himself?

How was he supposed to say he never understood intimacy or lust until he met you? That he had never felt want like how he wanted your skin against his?

Like how he had never felt fear like he did now, now that you were pulling away from him?

What was he supposed to say to you?

It was stupid, only a fool, a real fool would feel like this.

But all his insecurities were swallowing him whole and it felt like you were proving every wrong thing about him right.

You were the dull blade that he twisted inside himself. Keeping a wound from closing but keeping it clogged at the same time.

The only thing stopping his guts from spilling onto the ground.

But his guts were already contained in that cabin where he found your finger, when you first went to that stupid parley, when he cried in Hosea's arms after you left him.

He didn't understand why he was so afraid. It was fear then anger then bared teeth at anybody who approached.

Like a body hitting the ground, like a rat running a maze.

It all had to end eventually. You were gonna leave him eventually.

All alone again, with a dying father and a killing leader and a lucky brother who he hated yet loved.

Alone again.

He knew time had to pass. That his time was long gone, that yours was going down with his soon.

Hand in hand.

So soon.

But why did it have to be so soon?

And why did it have to be you?

He sharply swallowed. He was looking at the floor now. He doesn't remember himself turning his head down.

Dipping down, almost as if to cry.

Your hand was still on his shoulder. You quietly repeated your question.

He silently nodded.

Patting him on the shoulder, you stood and walked away. Telling him to get some sleep.

As you stepped and staggered, he could see a limp in your walk.

He desperately wanted to get up. To tell you something, anything that'd get you to change your mind.

But he was frozen in place. People were still talking and laughing like the world hadn't just collapsed in on him.

Classical music wafted out of Dutch's tent. He turned his gaze to it. It was still lit up, the flaps still open.

He silently stood up and began walking towards it, almost as if in a trance.

You weren't going on any jobs.

You weren't well enough.

He knew that. And he was going to make sure Dutch knew of that too.

So the results on my last poll were pretty split down the middle, so I'm doing both of them. He'll run away with you soon, dw. Prolly kill Colm while he's at it. Sorry for taking so long, I was buzy🙏 rise and grind brothers

@photo1030

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #male yandere #rdr2 x you #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x you #yandere arthur morgan #x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere x reader

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

Text

twin peaks.

4k, Joel x afab!reader x Tommy, ONE SHOT A/N: This is my @pedrostories secret santa gift. @endlessthxxghts, you're on my nice list. Happy holidays! ♥️ Ty for the flexibility and for engaging with fics you like, which gave more ideas 🖤. Please excuse the extra men, don't need to remember names. Ty @jksprincess10 for your afab insights! WARNINGS: I8+, Motorcycle Club AU, but Joel is no longer riding. You're a chef. Language. Bar fight. Blood. Gunfire. My first attempt at mild grumpy/sunshine. Passing reference to a bar server's prior SA incident. An OC gets in your personal space and touches your side. Hurt/Comfort. Minor love triangle, I guess, but everyone’s cool. Unsafe P in V, creampies. MFM but only joel inside. The men can lift you. You’re shorter than them. Competency kink, mild size kink, sharing. Starts in Joel POV. There are a few characters from The Bikeriders. BIKER JOEL RECS: both sides of the moon by @lunitawrites and (and ty for this list luna lol) a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore., the road to love by @jobean12-blog

dividers from @cafekitsune for POV change and time jump

“Changed the recipe,” Joel grumbles.

Tommy shakes his head with a smile. “Ya know, brother. . . you might be the only one who comes here for the wings.”

“Cause they’re the best. Or they *were*. Taste this.” Joel pushes the basket over to Tommy and takes a swig of beer, then adds, “If I wanna see some skin, I’ll go to a proper titty bar.”

The uniforms are cute at Twin Peaks, but Joel is there for two reasons: the wings and the company. He sold his Harley and quit the club after a minor accident. It left him only a little scraped up but scared his daughters to death. Now these biker bars are the only place he sees his old crew.

“Shit, they did change it,” Tommy concedes. “Maybe ya should send’em back,” he teases.

“Not a bad idea,” Joel mutters.

“Really?” Tommy asks.

“‘S’cuse me. Miss?” The scantily clad server turns around. “They musta changed the recipe, I can’t eat these.”

“Oh no,” the server frowns. “Sorry ‘bout that, lemme see what I can do.” The server takes the wings back to the kitchen.

A minute later, you emerge from the kitchen in your chef’s whites and Joel does a double take. You smile at him as you approach.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy elbows him, but Joel hardly notices. He’s captivated by you, but he keeps a straight face.

“Heard the wings weren’t to your liking,” you cringe empathetically.

“Why’d ya go and change the Hot Honey recipe.”

“I’m sorry, hun. Hot Honey’s off the menu, that’s the closest we’ve got.”

“It’s *what* now? Why’d ya take it off?”

You sigh with an apologetic smile. “Wasn’t my call.” Then you perk up. “But I think you might really like the new Thai Spice recipe,” you smile.

“Don’t think so,” Joel grumbles.

“He don’t like change,” Tommy explains.

“How ‘bout a basket on the house?” You offer with a tilt of your head and raise of your eyebrows.

Joel is flustered by your charm. “Uh, sure,” he mutters, trying not to check you out. Not much to see anyway with that chef’s apron.

“If ya like’em, buy me a drink sometime,” you add with a wink that makes Joel lose all his thoughts for a moment.

“Yes, chef,” Joel nods, which makes both you and Tommy giggle. Then you turn and head back to the kitchen.

“I dunno what they see in ya, man,” Tommy teases Joel and watches as you walk away. “Mm. Hottest thing here and dressed like a paper towel roll.” Joel fails to suppress a chuckle. “You gonna share?”

“We’ll see.”

The front door to the restaurant opens, and a hush falls over the dining room.

Joel looks over his shoulder for only a second, then turns back toward the bar and mutters, “Fuckin’ Benny.”

“And the Jets,” Tommy adds as Johnny and at least half the rival crew follow Benny into the restaurant. Great, there’s Cal, Carter’s rotten brother. Real bad guy. Their motorcycle club is dangerous.

Joel gets his wallet out of his pocket and pulls out a few twenties, then downs the rest of his beer. “Didn’t come to babysit.”

“Think it’ll get ugly?” Tommy asks. “What about your new friend?”

“My new friend?”

“‘member what happened with Carter’s girl?” Of course Joel remembers. Cal got handsy with her, Carter put him in a chokehold, and a nasty fight broke out. Carter got stabbed.

“Well, I ain’t in charge and don’t got a sweetheart, so I reckon chef hottie’s okay. Where’s Carter?”

“Home. Can’t ride, already busted his stitches open once.”

“Good. His girl ain’t workin’ either.” Joel’s face tenses and his nostrils flare as his gaze falls on Cal. “Cal shouldn’t be here.” Joel has to look away before his rage gets the best of him. Joel glances at a table of his own guys (now Carter's), and he isn’t surprised to see one of his buddies putting on brass knuckles. Ya don’t stab the leader and get away with it, but Joel sure wishes this would go down somewhere else. Joel does a double take when he sees another man at the same table reach for his hip. “Damnit, Harold,” Joel whispers to himself.

“Better hit the boys room ‘fore all hell breaks loose,” Tommy mutters and gets up from his chair.

—---you—--

Tonight’s the first time you’ve spoken with Joel, but you’ve noticed him before. His quiet, dark gaze is hypnotizing. The girls are all over him, and he doesn’t show any interest. He sits there scowling with his drink.

When the chatter of the restaurant abruptly dies down, a pit forms in your stomach. Heavy boots click on the floor, and it sounds like they’re slowly circling the room like sharks. “Hey sweetheart,” Benny croons out of view in that deep, smooth voice. He looks like a young, brunette Elvis. “You new?”

“Started this week,” the new bartender answers bashfully.

“Bet they didn’t teach ya the whole job. Benny'll show ya the ropes,” says a deep voice that makes you bristle. It’s smooth. Southern. Sinister. It's Cal. You can visualize his infectious wink.

One of your cooks puts Joel’s new wing basket on expo. You compose yourself and grab it with a smile. “I’ll take this one.” You put on your blinders and don’t make eye contact with any of the men, but you notice Tommy walk by, headed toward the back.

Before you make it behind the bar, Cal intercepts you. “Whoa, what’s cookin’, baby? You believe this, Benny? Keepin’ top talent locked up in the back.”

Benny’s too wrapped up with the server to respond.

“Thanks for the snack,” Cal tells you with his eyes roving your apron as he reaches for the basket. You pull it back. “Hey, what’s under this, anyway?” He skims your apron from the side and crowds you against the wall. He braces his arm against the wall, over you. “Got one of them sexy uniforms under this?”

“Excuse me,” you say and try to duck under and around him.

“I wouldn’t move, darlin’,” Cal taunts.

“What the hell are you doin’ back here,” a man asks behind Cal.

Cal laughs and looks over his shoulder, and you manage to free yourself.

“Ain’t worth it, Harold,” Joel warns as he approaches, then Joel turns his attention to you. “You okay?”

-. . .-

Joel gets between you and the brawling men. You hear a blow land on someone, and they spit. Then there’s a click, and before you know it, you’re on the floor, tackled by Joel as a gunshot makes your ears ring. The wind is knocked out of you.

Joel is on top of you, and time seems to slow down. Cal is slumped against the wall behind Joel, bleeding from the mouth and chest with a menacing smile.

“Look at me,” Joel says and his massive hand turns your head to face him, bracing his other arm near your head on the tiled floor. “Look at me and only me.” His body is heavy on top of yours.

You nod as chaos unfolds in the dining room.

“You okay?” Joel searches your face.

You nod again, and try to ground yourself with everything you’re physically feeling. The coldness of the tile under your hand. The weight of his body on top of you. The warmth of. . .the massive bulge pressing into your thigh. Joel doesn’t seem to be aware of it, but you sure are now. A wave of desire overwhelms you. Your thigh lifts against his hardening package and it twitches but he still doesn’t seem to notice with everything else going on. He glances behind himself.

“Gonna get ya outta here,” he promises. “Ready?”

Behind you, someone opens the door to the men’s room, belt jingling. “Shit.” You recognize Tommy’s voice.

“Bathroom,” Joel commands as he helps you up, then gently pushes you into Tommy’s arms. He nods toward the family restroom, which has a lock. “Gonna take this outside,” Joel pants as he heads into the fray.

“Joel, don’t–you’re outnumbered, don’t get yourself killed,” Tommy pleads. There’s another gunshot. “Shit, I’ll be right there!” he shouts at Joel

“NO,” Joel barks.

Tommy forces you into the family restroom and locks the door behind the two of you. “You okay?” he asks. You don’t answer. You wouldn’t be able to without crying. He rubs your back, then searches your face. “Breathe for me, darlin’.”

You tug at the high collar of your chef’s apron, trying to unbutton it for relief. Tommy quickly rips it open, exposing your tank top. His eyes linger for a moment, then he cradles your head and takes a deep breath, guiding you in your own breathing. He exhales, then murmurs, “You’re okay, honey.”

You nod and take the apron off entirely, with him supporting you. “Yeah,” you laugh not to cry, but with tears in your eyes. “I’m good.”

“Good, good. C’mere, darlin’.” His strong arms wrap you in a gentle, protective hug, cradling your head into his barrel chest. You take a deep breath, and the scent of his shampoo intoxicates you. “You’re okay,” he repeats.

You pull your head back to look up at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches. Then something else twitches, against your middle. That’s when you feel the denim slide under your hand and realize you’ve grabbed Tommy’s ass. What the fuck. You yank your hand out of his back pocket and stammer “Sorry–” feeling like your face is on fire. Why did you do that? You try to pull away but he gently holds you close.

“‘S’okay,” he chuckles. “Adrenaline. It’s normal.” He dips his head and it’s close to yours. It gets a little closer, then there’s more gunfire and he releases his gentle hold on you. He bolts toward the door. “Lock it behind me” is the only thing he says as he leaves.

You lock the door, then slump down against the wall. Is this real life? What’s gotten into you? Feeling up Tommy Miller in the bathroom less than an hour after you asked his brother out. Yeah, it must be adrenaline. The noise of the fight fades into the background while your thoughts drift back to Joel saving you. He’s so big and strong. So protective. You’ve heard how dangerous he is, but to see him in action? While he’s saving you, no less?

Finally the noises have died down. You wonder if it’s safe to leave. You worry about whether Joel and Tommy and your line cooks are okay. You wait a little longer, then unlock the door and peek your head out. Cal staggers toward you, dripping blood. “It’s okay, I’m alright,” he drawls. Then you swiftly close and lock the door, heart pounding. A few seconds later, boots thud across the dining room and a punch is thrown. You hear Cal groan. “C’mon, man.” Another blow lands and Cal goes silent. There’s a knock at the bathroom door.

“It’s me.” Joel’s voice. You’re still near the door. You unlock it for him. He comes inside and you must look terrified. He holds your cheeks, and his face and shirt are splattered with blood - surely not his own. He hugs you into him. “It’s me, baby. You’re okay.” His voice is deep and soft. He holds you for a minute. When he pulls back again to look at you, his eyes fall to your tank top and he wets his lips. He looks in your eyes again, then at your mouth.

You close the distance with a soft kiss. Joel’s mouth spreads your lips open, and his tongue finds yours. As the kiss heats up, he pulls you tighter, moaning “Mm,” and you feel it again, you feel him. His hands slide down to grab your ass, pulling your hips into his, and he’s firmer. Lord, is he hung. He lets out a low growl from his chest, and he walks forward against you until the backs of his hands nudge the sink counter – thankfully clean.

He bends down and his mouth latches onto your neck. He slips his fingertips into the front waistband of your pants, grabbing the button, then pulls away from your neck to pleadingly meet your eyes, and you nod urgently. He takes your pants and underwear down in a flash, then his hand engulfs your bare pussy and he groans at how wet you are. He kisses your neck again for a moment before hooking his massive hands, one of them wet, around the backs of your thighs. He lifts you onto the sink with a grunt as your legs wrap around him and you feel a rush of desire.

Joel sloppily kisses around your mouth with one hand between your legs and the other cradling your head. His scruff scratches you pleasantly. You grope him through his jeans, which are slick with your arousal, as you unbutton and unzip him. Then his own hand dives into his boxers and frees his thick cock, holding it at the right angle to slide right into you, pants and boxers resting below his balls.

“C’mere, baby.” He runs his stiff cock through your folds and you slowly grind against it with a moan. He spits on his shaft and his swollen, leaking tip prods at your entrance for only a moment before plunging into your wet hole and spreading your insides with his girth. There’s a brief burn, then your body catches up. On his second go, he bottoms out with a groan, and you gasp.

“Yeah,” he sighs and begins to fuck you, slowly at first. “How’s that?”

You can only nod, feeling so full of him you can hardly listen or form thoughts. “Ohh,” you whimper as he stuffs you with his massive cock. Your skin feels hot. He speeds up to a moderate pace and you both moan and grunt as you fuck. He kisses and sucks your neck, moaning into your skin, then he breathes against it. He fucks you harder, deeper

“How’s it feel, baby–ohhh” He slams his pelvis into yours each time.

“Ohhh, God, it’s, yeah, nngh–ohh”

Footsteps come down the hall, and stop outside the door.

“Wait,” you whisper.”

“Want me to wait?” he whispers teasingly, slowing down to an excruciating pace, dragging slow and heavy inside you.

You shake your head no.

“Good,” he whispers.

Tommy’s knowing voice outside the door: “Catch y’all later.” Then the footsteps recede.

“Now please, please” you beg, wanting it harder again. You pull him close and grind your pelvis into his in just the right spot. “Ohh, Joel.” The pleasure overwhelms you and you whimper as you begin to clench and pulse.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Where do you want it?”

“Right here,” you nod, pulling him closer, keeping him inside with your legs around him.

Joel erupts with a groan, filling your hot, wet cunt with warm bursts, slowly thrusting into you as he empties his balls.

“God damn, you’re somethin’ else.”

---a few weeks later—

"Ain't wearin' a stupid holiday sweater," Joel grumbles. You and Joel have been seeing each other, and now you're going to Tommy’s holiday party with him.

"C'mon, just for the party. It'll be fun," you smile hopefully.

"Gimme a break, baby. Nothin' fun about sweaters."

"Don't be a Grinch," you pout.

"Thought I was a Scrooge," he retorts.

"What if I let you fuck me in Tommy's bed?"

He squints at you. "God damnit, my heart just grew three sizes."

You look down at his jeans and smile saucily. You don't have to make the joke out loud. "Can't wait," you purr and hand him the sweater.

"Tommy'd lose his mind," Joel shakes his head, then raises his eyebrows. "And not in the bad way."

"Oh yeah?"

Joel gives a low whistle. "You should see him droolin' when ya walk away." Joel chuckles, and your face heats up.

"Well. Maybe we shouldn't, then. . ."

"Don't see why not," Joel shrugs.

You look away shyly.

"What's got you all flustered?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, but you can't push away the thought of Tommy walking in and losing his 'mind.'

Joel smirks. "Don't look like nothin'."

"Just excited to see you in a sweater," you run your hand through his curls.

"I ain't the jealous type if ya wanna give Tommy some sugar, too."

You gasp and can't hide your embarrassed smile. Your face is burning. "He told you.”

Joel plays stupid. “Told me what?”

Your hand drifts up to cover your mouth.

“Just sayin’, if ya wanna grab him in a nicer setting. . .”

“Joel!" You gently smack his chest.

“Musta been the highlight of his life,” Joel laughs. “Post-divorce, at least.”

"Naughty list for you." You press his sweater into his chest and go to the closet to change into your own.

----

When you’re standing at the door of Tommy’s ranch, your heart is racing.

“Relax, baby.” He rubs your back.

“You were serious?” you ask.

“Yeah, but ya don’t gotta. Just sayin’ it’s fair game.”

Your eyes meet and he cups your cheek. You whisper, “thanks for wearing the sweater.”

Joel gives you a kiss right as the door opens, and Tommy teases, “You two need a room already?” Tommy’s wearing a festive cardigan open over a wifebeater and his huge belt buckle. He stands aside to let you in, and you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your mouth.

Sarah brings her husband, and you spend much of the night talking to them, hearing old stories about Joel. It’s a small party, adults only, and most of the parents have to get home to their babysitters, but Ellie is staying at Bill and Frank’s for the week to help with their Christmas tree farm. It’s a real treat for her and also her first “job.”

—

You don’t steal Joel away during the party, and he doesn’t try either. But when everyone else is gone, you and Joel stay for a drink with Tommy. He offers that you’re welcome to stay over since the kids are with Maria.

“Where ya want us?” Joel asks.

“Well, my bed’s the most comfy,” Tommy looks at you and adds a wink that gives you butterflies.

Joel nods with an intrigued frown. “Whatcha think, honey?”

“Okay,” you nod. You’re afraid to act too eager, but can hardly believe your luck.

In Tommy’s room, Tommy reclines on the bed, while Joel holds you in a hug. Joel turns your chin to meet his eyes and asks “Comfortable?”

You nod and smile.

“Ready to be even more comfortable?”

Joel kisses you gently, sensually. Then his lips become hungrier, and you lose yourself in his rising desperation. He moans into your mouth and pulls you closer against him. He walks against you until you’re at the bed, and when you glance back to make sure you don’t fall, you see Tommy reclining with his ankles crossed, palming himself over his jeans. He holds your gaze and begins to undo that big belt buckle, and you get a rush of arousal.

With you seated on the bed and Joel looms over you. The curves of his hulking muscles stretch his sweater. Your eyes fall to his jeans, and you can see the outline of his massive erection. You reach for the button and he murmurs, “yeah, there ya go,” and affectionately cradles your head while you unbutton and unzip him. Then he takes his sweater off over his head and his under-tee rides up exposing his happy trail. “Let’s get that sweater off, Tommy.”

You turn around and see Tommy is on all fours with his cardigan already off. He’s prowling across the bed, to the foot of it where you sit. Tommy sits up on his knees behind you, and wraps his arms around. He lifts at the bottom hem of your sweater and brings his mouth to your ear to murmur, “Yeah, let’s get comfortable.” You raise your arms and he takes off the sweater for you then cups your breasts. You pull off your bra from under your tank top while Joel takes off his jeans.

“Shit, let’s take it all off,” Tommys says with his voice briefly muffled by his wifebeater as he pulls it over his head. “Nothin’ like three bare bodies all twisted up.” His giant belt clinks as he unbuckles it behind you. Joel steps out of his jeans, leaving the tent in his boxers on full display, making you gush. He bends down to help take your tank top off, then he kisses you as he unfastens your pants. Joel kisses down your body as he removes your pants and underwear.

“Come on up here,” Tommy mutters and wraps an arm around you. He pulls you up toward the pillows, then stacks them behind himself and pulls you between his legs where you can feel he is fully nude and hard. His skin is hot and smooth. You're both facing Joel.

You sit between Tommy’s moderately hairy legs, and his broad palms cup your naked breasts. “How ya doin’, darlin’?” he whispers into your ear. His cock twitches against your lower back. “Ready for my brother?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“He’s ready too.”

Joel is kneeling onto the bed with his commanding cock in hand. He pauses to squeeze himself, eyes roving over you like you’ve never looked hotter. “Look like an angel, baby. Can’t wait to be in ya.” Tommy lightly grinds himself against your lower back, then his hands come to your thighs, and you spread them open for Joel.

“Always so good,” Joel mumbles, then kisses you deeply and you feel his cock run through your dripping seam. You’re wet, so wet for him. He’s still kissing you, letting your lips separate every second or so. His face pulls back and Tommy slightly adjusts you between his legs. Tommy’s cock is stiff against your back. Joel’s tip nudges your entrance, then he pushes himself into you. Tommy’s hands are still on your breasts. Joel leans over you, bracing his hands on the bed to either side of Tommy’s thighs. It still makes you swoon how his big cock stuffs you full. As Joel thrusts into you, Tommy ruts against you, moaning softly. The force of Joel’s thrusts makes you rub against Tommy’s stiff manhood and he groans.

“Feel so good, baby,” Joel breathes.

“Take’ him so well,” Tommy whispers.

Your breath hitches and you moan into Joel’s mouth with his cock dragging thickly deep inside you. Tommy massages your breasts and grinds into you while Joel kisses you and fucks you good. It feels better and better every minute. Joel dips his hips and grinds against your front as he stuffs you with his cock. You feel the tension building in your belly, and your clit twitches.

You tear your mouth away from Joel’s and whine, “Joel.”

“Oh, baby, gonna cum already?”

You whimper and nod.

“It’s okay, baby. Go ‘head,” Tommy whispers.

“Yeah, let it happen, baby,” Joel agrees.

Then Joel, with his cock still seated inside you, rolls his hips to put more pressure on your front, and Tommy grinds against your lower back, and you clench down on Joel’s cock with a moan.

“Oh, Fuck,” Joel whispers and he begins to pulse at the exact same time you feel Tommy erupt against you. The three of you come in a cacophony of grunts and moans and Tommy’s sliding wetly against your crack as his cum trickles down.

Joel stays inside as he catches his breath, then slides out of you, and some of his cum drips down between Tommy’s legs.

“Think ya might be the one I been lookin' for,” Joel mumbles. He gives you a slow kiss.

You get cleaned up, then you sleep like three spoons stacked together with Joel in front.

===

Thank you for reading!

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#pedrostoriesgift23 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader x tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #biker!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x afab!reader #tommy miller x afab!reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders x reader #bikeriders cal #the bikeriders cal

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swordsandholly · 11 months ago

Text

Mother’s Day Blues

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Word Count: ~900 unedited

Johnny loves Mother’s Day. You hate it.

MDNI | cw: vent fic, big mommy issues, mentioned childhood spanking, ED mention

Johnny loves Mother’s Day.

You hate it.

He watches you stand in the card aisle, shifting side to side, reading every single card. Snatching them up and shutting them hard just to shove them back into their little displays - huffing and growing ever more agitated as you go.

“It doesnnae matter what ye pick, bonnie.” He tries to be encouraging. “They’re all nice.”

“That’s the problem.” You mutter in a voice far too weak and bitter for his liking. “Why can’t they make one that just says, like, ‘You sure are my mom!’”

“Sweetheart…” Johnny knows you’re trying to cover it with humor, but the way your brow furrows breaks his heart. He sets a hand on your waist, pointing to a very generic, sparkly joke card. You nod and take it, grimacing still.

He hates it - hates watching you chew your lip and your hands shake while you pace back and forth before the 10 am alarm you set to call your mom goes off. Hates holding you while you sob in his lap after because of course she had to ask in a pathetic, whiny voice ‘is everything okay with us’ when she knows damn well it isn’t. When she won’t ever try to fix it or admit that she fucked up.

You carry the effects of the way she raised you everywhere you go. Johnny sees them all - knows them all by heart. Every time he notices you cutting portions and weighing yourself more than normal. When you use cruel words to describe your body. Every time you don’t tell him that you’re upset with him because you’re frightened of his reaction - body shaking so hard that you look like an earthquake personified. The lack of confidence in your interactions with others, how easily you fold and are ready to people please. Every time you get that glazed over, far away look in your eye after you remember something a little too clearly.

You only took him to meet her once. He’s never wanted to punch a woman like that before.

Johnny is, and always has been, of the opinion that you should cut contact. Cold turkey. Block her on everything and leave it be. You’ve argued about it more times than he can count, going back and forth about what would happen if you did. What the worst outcome could be.

“It’s not like she hit me…” You mutter.

“Spankin’ is hittin’, love.” Johnny takes your hands. “And it doesnnae matter if she did or not. She was rotten tae ye in every other way.”

You just get quiet. Tears well up in your eyes and what is he supposed to do when you get like that? Keep fighting? No, never. It’s your decision anyway. He just hates what she does to you and, by extension, how it effects your relationship with his mother.

Every time you visit is perfectly cordial. His mum loves you - sees you as her own. You’re Johnny’s after all. Her only son. You want to love her. You really, really do but when she says ‘I love you’ it feels like you’re going to die. Every time she hugs you he can see the way your shoulders tense up by your ears and your lips purse.

They’ve talked about it. Johnny and his mum. The horrified look she gave him when he told her only the little he knew at the time was more than enough. Bless her. She made it her goal to be the perfect mother-in-law. Never overbearing, never too needy. To love you quietly and meet you where you’re at.

He’s cried over it a few times - though he’d never admit it - watching her treat you with the gentle hands and words you deserve. It breaks his heart as you try to figure out what to do with it.

Johnny has known he wants to marry you for a long time. You’ve both talked about it, both made it known that you’re fully committed to one another forever. It’s just hard to plan a proposal when he isn’t sure how long he’ll be in town. He got the ring months ago and has just been holding onto it for the right time. So, in the end, he decides to be a bit spontaneous with it. His whole family is going on a beach day, and you look so pretty in your little cover up dresses.

His little nieces and nephews gladly help him set up a little path leading to a circle of flowers. His sister brings her big, fancy camera to take pictures while his other sister hints at you to wear something cute and invited you to get your nails done a week before.

Thank god you’re one of the most oblivious people on the planet.

Of course you say yes, tackling him down into the sand while you both cry. He knew you’d say yea but it still fills his heart to bursting. He buries his face in your neck to hide it, but he can’t stop it. You’re his, always and forever.

As the family congratulates and talks, his mother finally comes up and tenderly takes both your hands in hers.“Welcome to the family, love. It’s so nice to have another daughter.”

Johnny freezes, watching for your reaction.

Your eyes turn to saucers, a quiet hiccup shaking your chest before a full on sob follows. You bury your face in your hands and she wraps her arms around your shoulders. Johnny grabs onto you both.

She might not be your mum by blood, and you may never truly open up to her, but either way you deserve a good mother. He’s more than happy to share his own. Maybe someday you’ll heal. Little by little, by the same gentle hands that raised him.

A/N: Sorry for the angst but Mother’s Day has me fucked up.

#john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x you #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #fem reader #ed trigger warning #cod x reader #reader insert #vent fic

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months ago

Note

Any chance Johnny Storm x reader? Johnny gifted the reader a puppy, please?

The golden furred pup within Johnny’s arms was restless as he made it towards your shared room, where he knew you were taking a power nap, as a smile rose on his lips when he looked down at the energetic golden retriever he had gotten for you.

‘I’m excited too little bud but could you maybe not nip my fingers?’ He says and the puppy stops nibbling on his fingers for a moment, it’s head tilted to the side, as though contemplating before continuing to nibble on his fingers. Johnny couldn’t help but laugh at this and press a kiss to the top of the puppy’s head, right between the puppy’s floppy ears, knowing damn well he could exactly stay mad at the little guy for expressing his emotions the only way it knows how.

Johnny also knew that if he couldn’t stay mad at the dog for long, neither would you as you would probably spoil the dog rotten, even letting it get away with stealing food from your plate if it were to ever give you the puppy eyes. All these thoughts of future events with you, him and your newest addition to the family came to the forefront of his mind in a flurry, and it only made Johnny all the more eager to burst open the door and show you the puppy; however he also had to remember that you weren’t exactly fond of being woken up from your nap, as he had quickly learnt from the past couple of times where he did unceremoniously awoken you without a good reason.

Reed, Sue and Ben had asked Johnny what was the reasoning behind getting a puppy when he was barely there half the time to take care of it due to the missions they’ve been going on recently.Johnny’s response to this by saying that the puppy wasn’t for him but for you, a companion for you when he was away as he knew how you hated being alone, and he hated that you felt like that so he had decided weeks ago that he’d get you a puppy; and get you a puppy he did though he didn’t dare name it as he though that right would be reserved for you.

It took a while for him to actually get the golden retriever, but it was all worth it the moment Johnny laid eyes on the little guy and knew that you’d love the shit of out him just as much as he would.

‘My partner is on the other side of this door fast asleep, do you think you could spare me the hellfire by being all cute and licking their face?’ Johnny then asks the pup in his arms, who looked up at him and let out a soft bark as an answer with a tail that was wagging faster than Johnny’s eyes could see with excitement.

‘Good because you’re on little guy.’ He then tells the golden retriever as he opens the door to his room slowly and lets the dog from his grasp, watching as the little guy makes his way towards you on the bed, managing to climb up the bed covers and towards you where it began licking your face. It didn’t take long for you to wake up once the dog began to lick you, especially when it’s hot breath fanned your face to bring you into the land of the conscious, only to see into the deep brown eyes of perhaps the cutest golden retriever puppy you had ever seen.

‘A puppy?’ You said groggily as you sat up with the golden pup eagerly clambering on your lap, steadying it’s front paws on your chest so it could continue licking your face as it’s tail wags itself into a blur. ‘Well ain’t you a handsome lad, where did you come from cutie because you couldn’t have just come from my dreams now did you?’ You gently cooed as you scratched him between his ears, smiling when you watched it lean into your touch and start licking at your hand and fingers as it got to know your scent.

‘That would be me.’ Johnny said from the doorway he was leaning on with a smirk.

You huffed. ‘You sent in a puppy to wake me because you were too much of a coward to wake me yourself I see?’ You joked as your boyfriend joined you and the puppy on the bed.

‘I think we both remember things differently here sweetheart, I don’t wake you up anymore because you try to kill me, not because I’m cowardly and have to have a dog do it for me or as you like to claim.’ Johnny replies as he leaned over to kiss your forehead. ‘But it’s nice to see you’ve finally decided to join us from your little nap, even if it was to the cute dog I had gotten for you slobbering all over you.’

Your eyes widened upon hearing this as you cradled the pup in your arms where it would wriggle restlessly, only to stop to instead start to nibble at your fingers playfully, not that you minded anyway. ‘You got me this bundle of fluff?’

‘Yep.’

‘Why?’ You asked.

Johnny shrugs. ‘I’m on missions most of the time and I remember that you don’t like being lonely, so I got you this little guy,’ Johnny stops to boop the puppy in your arms on the nose, ‘so that you wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore and try to wait up for me when you shouldn’t have to.’ He adds with a look that was knowing about the fact you would stay up later then normal just to see him home safely, something he had told you not to do but something you frequently ignore because you miss him deeply.

‘Oh Johnny he’s beautiful and adorable, I love him.’ You say as you kiss the puppy several times across its muzzle and top of its head, giggling when it tries to reciprocate your kisses with licks of its tongue, before letting it on the bed so it could get use to its new home while you and Johnny talked. ‘More than me?’ Johnny then pouts and gives you his best impression of puppy eyes which only proved in making you laugh and holding his face between your hands as you rest your forehead again his.

‘Already jealous of the puppy are you Johnny?’ You teased as you caressed his cheeks with your thumbs as a smile grew across your face at how sweet and thoughtful your boyfriend could be, always thinking about you and your feelings over his one sometimes, and you couldn’t help but wish others saw Johnny the way you did but at the same time you were glad that you were the only one that got to see this version of him.

‘Never because I know that I’ll always be number one in your heart forever and always.’ He said with full confidence that it was enough to earn him a kiss on the cheek as you pulled him into your arms, positioning yourself in a way where you could both watch the curious puppy together as it chewed on your shoelaces.

‘I don’t know Johnny,’ you drew out as you rested your head atop of his one that was resting against your chest, ‘the puppy is a lot cuter than you so you might have some competition here.’ You joked as you felt Johnny cling onto you and groaning, but you knew he was smiling, you could feel it and see as the crowd feet near his eyes made an appearance.

‘Oh dear whatever will I do to.’ He playfully whines. ‘Tell me what I can do to stay number one in your heart sweetness.’

You smiled as you kiss the top of his blonde head and whispered. ‘Stay here with me and our little floppy eared son who’s tearing apart my shoe right now.’ Johnny leaned further into you, his smile growing wider as he felt his body relax in a way it only did within your presence and closed his eyes.

‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else sweetness.’

#johnny storm x y/n #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm x you #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm fanfiction #fantastic four x reader #fantastic four imagine #fantastic four imagines #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #johnny storm imagines #johnny storm imagine

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brainr0t-landfill · 5 months ago

Text

🌃 Mercurial

ghoap x male reader

Chapter Five:Hunger Pains

"Hunger hurts but I want him so bad oh it kills."

~Fiona Apple, Paper Bag

Johnny's hungry.

His stomach churning with acid, threatening to eat away at his calm demeanor, the car ride is silent Simon keeps a broad hand on his knee to keep him calm as they drive back home from the hangar.

On the way he imagines home, it's barely morning so you might be in bed, nestled between blankets, freshly shaven and bare safe for you boxers. He wants to rub his stubble against your smooth cheeks press himself against you from chest to thigh and stay there untill he's warm again, he can almost feel you barely awake sour breath brushing against his lips as you pat around fro Simon with your free hand ,your soft sleepy murmuring as they press you between them, his hand on the small of Simon's meaty back, the three of you half asleep yet aware, how right it feels like the twilight zone after a surgery.

Or maybe you'll be up restless and oversimulated from some late night project busying yourself with cooking them an extra early breakfast and he'll get to nudge you away into Simon's waiting arms and take over flipping the pan or watching the soup, you'll all go to bed with full bellies and warm hearts just as you're supposed to. He refuses to think about the possibility of you being distant, cold, unsafe. He doesn't want to confront the things he's had to do to keep his home together, he doesn't want to process the amount of personal and legal boundaries he has completely ignored, how much he's hurt you in retaliation when he swore he'd be better than that.

"Nearly there."

He looks out the car window and sees the quiet, sleepy home, the curtains shut, not a peek of light, you must be in bed then, he's desperate for a bed warm with the scents of his lovers, his steps are slow as he climbs up the stairs, hands firm on the railings ;his bad knee acting up and his stomach knotted tight, eating away at itself. He hopes you've saved him an ice pack like you used to, he hopes you'll rub it better, he hopes you'll allow them the quiet and comfort they need to shake away Soap and Ghost; take off the second skin and and press the raw, fresh one under that against yours.

He stops when he sees Simon standing frozen still on the threshold, his shoulders stiff, he keeps clenching and unclenhiching his fists.

The apartment is dark, quiet, he tastes something rotten on his tongue.

"Something wrong, Si?"

Simon Riley knows hungry houses, he grew up in one. Houses hungry for calm, for warmth, for content residents and calm, quiet night. He knows how they get desolate and rabid when left fasting, waiting for too long, how the bedrooms become mouths full of sharp jagged teeth, how the basement fills with orange acid, how the whole house grows cold and reeks. How everything is crumbling before you can see it.

He had hoped his home, the one he had built up from scraps with you and Johnny would never starve. It had been hungry, he knows that and it had been repaired, fed; after you snapped and struggled fighting against something he knows you need, it had been foreseen, half prepared for.

He stand stock still in the threshold of a house famished, he feels it before he knows it. İt feels liminal somehow, empty the darkened throat of the hallway beckoning him in like a cliff edge. He throws his bag on the floor and takes off his boots flicks on the lights, yells out your name as John barges in, sensing the drastic shift in his mood. The two of them; muscles connected to the same nerve, glued to the same bone.

No answer, he grits his teeth.

"He's not in bed."

Johnny calls from inside the house as Simon looks around, disoriented, terrified and that's when he spots it, your card placed neatly on the kitchen island, next to it; a note.

Something lashes in him like a hissing snake, rattling his ribs and pulling his muscles taut, pulling Ghost with his sure hands and calculating, focused mind back out of the fog.

He wants to vomit.

#cod x male reader #ghoap x male reader #ghoap x reader #cod x reader #mercurial #cod angst #ghoap fic #ghoap angst #simon riley x male reader #john mactavish x male reader #simon riley angst #john Mactavish angst #tw implied abuse

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aoioozora · 1 year ago

Text

Simon.

Part 5

Chapters Masterlist

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Enjoy Simon being a gentleman in this part 😉. I can't find a nice pic to post here so maybe I'll skip that. Anyway, just wanted to let y'all know that in this fic, reader is 25 years old and Simon is 28.

“I hate to sail on this rotten tub, leave her Johnny, leave- oi, ye cannae be serious. Take off that mask!”

Johnny's singing was interrupted by Simon, who was just entering his living room, dressed and ready to leave to meet ____. He looked at the agitated Johnny, who was now sitting up straight on the couch.

“What d'you mean?” Simon asked, pretending not to have understood or heard his friend.

“The maaask. Take it off,” Johnny ordered, gesticulating wildly, “Why'd ye want tae wear it if ye showed yer face to her already?”

Simon rolled his eyes, now taking off the mask, making Johnny smile. He settled back on the couch comfortably. “That's more like it. Oh, also… Catch.” Johnny stuffed his hand in his pocket and threw something at Simon, which he caught.

It was a condom.

“Johnny! I don't fucking need this!” Simon roared, throwing back the contraceptive, which hit his friend in the face and fell on his lap.

“Ye don't? So yer gonna rrrrrawdog her then, are ye, ye animal?” Johnny smirked, clearly trying to annoy Simon, especially by rolling his r's more than usual.

“Johnny…” Simon's voice lowered to a threatening growl.

The room thundered with Johnny's laughter; having known Simon too long, he wasn't threatened by him, but he relented regardless, not wanting him to be in a bad mood before meeting his crush. “Okay, okay, if ye have nae use for a condom, I have something better for ye.” He beckoned his friend to sit with him on the couch.

“This better be good.” Simon narrowed his eyes, noting a mischievous glint in his best friend's eyes as he sat down.

“She's an author, yeah? Those book lassies will love this. I'll tell ye.”

In the meantime, Simon's crush found herself in front of her mirror getting dolled up by her best friend, Lindsey, who turned the bathroom into a university lecture hall.

“Tell you what, babe,” said she as she very lightly brushed some blush on her friend's cheeks, “Boys will never make the first move, yeah? So you have to openly flirt with them, right? You literally have to hold up a sign at them telling them you're interested.”

____ tried to chuckle, but Lindsey lightly slapped her shoulder. “Don't move yet,” she ordered, throwing her long, curly red hair over her shoulder.

Lindsey finished up the simple, natural looking makeup look and spritzed some setting spray on her friend's face. ____ still didn't dare move, because Lindsey was checking for any mistakes, scanning with her big green eyes. A bit of an odd thing to do, especially after putting the setting spray.

“Lovely!” she exclaimed, slamming down the can of setting spray on the bathroom counter, “Now you can move.”

While ____ admired herself and Lindsey's makeup skills in the mirror, Lindsey watched, her smile slowly disappearing; her shoulders slumped slightly as she moved behind her friend, giving her a worried look in the mirror.

“What's wrong, Linny?” she asked, noticing the look.

“This Simon guy… Is he really good?” Lindsey whispered, lightly squeezing the other's shoulders while glancing at the phone on the bathroom counter. “He's not like the other guy, right?”

____’s brows furrowed slightly. She placed her hand over Lindsey's and squeezed it. “Don't worry, Simon's nice, and we're actually a lot closer in age, if that's what worries you.”

Lindsey was relieved about the smaller age gap, but didn't look completely convinced. She said, “He's nice so far. You do know that a crush is a lack of information, right?”

The only infuriating thing about Lindsey was how she could get a little too realistic.

____ sighed. “Linny, that's the whole reason why I'm going to hang out with him: to find out if he's better than nice.”

Lindsey huffed, but nodded anyway. “Okay, but if anything happens, you know who to call.”

“You worry too much.”

“Because you're literally so hopeless when it comes to men.” Lindsey let out a chuckle as she lovingly wrapped her arms around her friend's neck and gave her a back hug. ____ leaned into it, grateful for the concern of her ever worrying friend.

It was soon time to leave. The two ladies headed downstairs to the entrance of the building, where ____ was to wait for Simon to pick her up. Since Lindsey had other plans, she couldn't wait with her friend, and had to go.

And so did ____ wait by herself, watching the cars go by on the glistening, wet streets. The night air was cold from an earlier rain, and the jacket in her hands seemed to be calling her to wear it and feel warm.

“I hope he won't find it weird if I wear his jacket,” she thought as she put the garment on after much mental debate. The warmth immediately silenced her thoughts, and she just decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

Before long, Simon pulled up to the entrance, but the pillion was occupied by an unfamiliar man with a cheeky smile and a short, dark brown mohawk. As he got off, he whispered something to Simon and then turned around. The man grinned at the waiting lady and then walked off. She, confused, returned the gesture with a little smile of her own and then walked up to Simon.

“Who was that?” she asked as soon as she was near the motorcycle.

“Don't mind him. He's my friend, Johnny. I had to drop him off around here since he had some stuff to do, so…” he shrugged. “Were you waiting long?”

She smiled. “Not at all. I came out just five minutes ago.”

“Brilliant,” he said with a nod and then took notice of her outfit. “You're wearing my jacket,” he observed, sounding amused.

She noticed his cheeks going up from behind his mask; a smile. “Uh, yeah,” she answered, blushing a little, “I'm sorry, I felt a little cold so I put it on.”

“No worries.” His voice mellowed as he stared at her, taking in the sight of her in his jacket, “Keep it on. You look good in it.”

“Thanks,” she grinned, now taking hold of his shoulder as she got up on the pillion.

Johnny was in the distance, watching the two with wide smiles. He even managed to secretly snap a few photos of them as they talked so that he could tease Simon with it later.

“Hey you! Delete that picture right now!” a high pitched voice ordered behind Johnny, making him flinch in surprise.

He immediately turned around, but saw nobody. But when he looked down, he saw a little lady in front of him, arms crossed and staring at him with furrowed brows.

Johnny, for a moment, was taken in by her beauty. Her pale face was dotted with red freckles, more intense on her cheeks, and her hair was a deep red like the color of the setting sun, loosely coiled like curled satin ribbons. Her flashing eyes were a light green, the color of grass reflecting evening sunlight.

It took a moment for him to regain himself, and when he did, he cleared his throat, saying, “Lassie, that's my friend there,” he answered, pointing to Simon, “I'm gonna tease him with this photo. I'm no’ gonna delete it.”

“And that girl with him is my friend,” she declared, “And I don't really trust that guy she's going out with today.”

Johnny wasn't sure what prompted her to say that, but his eyebrows rose with intrigue anyway.

“Small world,” he remarked and then put forward a proposal with a wide grin, “Tell ye wit, wee lassie, we can dae something together. Let's both stalk them. Ye get to see my lad Simon in a good light, and I get to take some candids of them, yeah? Wit dae ye think?” He opened both his hands out to her and batted his eyelids, hoping she would accept.

“No!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms, “It's not good to stalk.”

Johnny groaned. “But dinnae ye want tae see if Simon is good for yer best friend? This is a win-win situation! I can show ye all his good points!”

“You're only saying that because you're his friend,” she challenged.

“No, no, listen here lassie,” he waved his hand, now meeting her eye, “I've known Simon since we were wee lads. I know everything about him, and I can assure ye that he's good. Let him have a chance, won't ye?”

The little lady paused. Was she going to trust him? While she wanted her friend to be happy, she didn't want to sabotage her friend's chances with her crush because of her incessant worrying.

Johnny could see her mental debate and smirked at how funny her thoughtful face looked; it was a sneer with furrowed brows, while her fingers tapped over her crossed arms. She eventually relented.

“Perfect! Now we go stalk them.” He held out his hand to her. “By the way, I'm John, or Johnny.”

She cautiously took his hand and shook it, answering, “Lindsey.”

Simon and ____ already reached the restaurant they decided to have dinner in. He led her to a quieter part of the establishment where they could chat in peace, and just as she was about to pull out her chair to sit, he held out his hand to stop her.

“Allow me,” he smiled and pulled out the chair for her.

Her face glowed with joy and excitement at this display of chivalry as she sat down. Her reaction made him smirk to himself, mentally thanking Johnny for this important tip.

“You're such a gentleman,” she praised, smiling widely as she watched him take his seat opposite to her, “I know we're in the age of the strong, independent woman, but wow, it's actually really nice to be treated like this.”

Her blushes were encouragement enough, and he smiled.

“Thank you, I try,” he bragged. “Do you normally like this sort of thing? Or do you like it from me?” he asked with a chuckle, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

She laughed, not yet willing to admit that she liked it especially from him. She answered, “I like it generally. It’s just nice to know that someone is thoughtful enough to do a gesture like that, you know? Even though it was the standard back in the day.”

Simon took mental note of that.

Any further conversation was interrupted when a waiter brought them two menus and glasses of water. While the two pored over the laminated card to decide what to get, the lady was momentarily distracted by the sight of the man in front of her.

He wore a black button up shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up his thick forearm, the rest of it tightening around his flexed biceps; the unbuttoned collar displayed his neck and a metal chain underneath, which made her wonder what was dangling at the end of it. He wore blue chinos, and black sneakers. It was the best casual outfit he could put together with Johnny's help.

The outfit, in addition to his handsome, unobscured face was a treat to sore eyes. She couldn't help but allow her eye to linger on the curious scar on his cheek, and to wonder about the cause of it.

Simon noticed her gaze and he met her eyes with a cheeky smile. “You're staring,” he told her.

One corner of her lip tugged upwards in a sheepish smirk. “I was just thinking your outfit looks really nice.”

“Thank you, I try,” he echoed his earlier line with a smirk and a proud shrug, but really, he would've been hopeless without Johnny giving him such meticulous advice on the basic rules of dressing well. “You look nice too,” he decided to turn the tables on her, “Especially wearing that.” He pointed at his jacket that she was still wearing.

She blushed at that. “I can't take it off. It's nice and toasty in here.”

“I don't mind you wearing it for the rest of the evening, so long as you give it back later. It's my favourite.”

She grinned. “I'll take good care of it.”

The waiter came by again, and the two placed an order for a 12 inch pizza to share and some drinks.

Small talk was made, until it led to the topic of her novel.

“I only just finished reading Firefly Trails a couple days ago and I must say that you're a brilliant author,” Simon praised, “I could not have expected a plot twist when Adelheid was betrayed by Elystran just to get a hold of the magical fireflies.”

The lady snorted proudly and jokingly patted herself on the back. “You can count on me to make a good plot twist.”

“No, but seriously. I really didn't see it coming,” Simon leaned forward slightly with eagerness twinkling in his dark eyes, “You see a friend betraying someone all the time in the media, yeah? But this one was so unexpected, especially when Elystran stole the bottle of captive fireflies from Adelheid. It's really awful how he had no remorse in potentially letting her die without a cure for her disease, just so he could save the kingdom he was going to rule. He was a very convincing actor.”

She found herself gazing at him as he went on with his long winded speech about Elystran, the anti-hero of her novel, who pretended to be Adelheid's close ally. It was heartwarming to her to see his enthusiasm for her work, but she also wondered if he resonated with Elystran in some way.

Simon's pale face was a little pink with exertion after the speech and he finally sat back, tugging at his collar and flapping his shirt. “A bit hot in here, innit?” he asked.

“The air con is working just fine. I think it's because of your passionate speech that you're feeling so hot,” she said with a grin.

Simon's pink face turned a hint more pink at the observation. He was usually reserved with people he knew a little less, but he hadn't realised how passionate and talkative he had gotten about a fictional character. He could attest this to the fact that she wrote so well as to stir his normally taciturn feelings. Art never stirred his soul, but if hers did, he was damned.

He nodded, admitting, “Well, it was because you write so well. Anyone who doesn't talk so passionately about it is missing a few bolts.”

The high regard in the compliment made her giggle. She rested her chin on her hand and looked teasingly at him, saying, “So, you told me that you're getting more into reading thanks to Firefly Trails.”

“I never wanted to be a reader, but it's all your fault now that you're turning me into one.” Simon unconsciously mirrored her as he smirked, returning her look with his playful sarcasm.

“I'm honored,” she grinned at him, “Do you want recommendations for more books?”

Simon pulled out his phone and opened the notes app. He handed the phone to her. “Fill my cup, darling.”

A wide smile graced her face as she excitedly snatched the phone and started typing away her list of recommended books. Simon watched her with wonder, smiling at her enthusiasm. He was truly interested in reading now, thanks to her, and to see her so excited about suggesting him more made him feel loved, in a way.

And the love of a woman was truly something different, even if it was just platonic.

He sighed as he stared at her, at how focused she was on typing out the list. When he thought of it, he couldn't really remember if he had a normal friendship with anyone of the opposite sex before, all thanks to his unhappy, troubled youth.

“By the way, Simon,” she called, now lifting her eyes from his phone, only to be met with his thoughtful thousand yard stare directed at her.

“Simonnnn, can you hear me?” she called again, snapping a finger in his face.

“Huh?” he blinked. “Oh, fuck. Sorry, I was just thinking of something.”

“It's alright,” she smiled, wondering what his stare meant. She asked, “I was wondering why you call me darling and love so often.”

His eyes rolled off elsewhere as he tried to think of an answer that wouldn't give away what he felt for her. “Well,” he began, voice quivering slightly, “It's just something I call the women in my life, yeah? Female friends and maybe family members. I think it’s also a British thing.” He shrugged.

It was only the partial truth.

“Hmm. I see,” she nodded, her eyes still glued to the phone. As she moved her hand to get a sip of the water, her finger accidentally swiped to the home screen of his phone, and she couldn't figure out where to go back to the notes app. The little mishap allowed her to take notice of his phone background, which was a closeup photo of a German Shepherd looking directly at the camera with its large, inquisitive eyes. She gave him his phone back, asking him to help her get back to the notes app.

“I just happened to see your home screen. Is that dog yours?” she asked as he gave the phone back to her, now displaying the notes app.

“My uncle's.”

“He's beautiful. What's his name?” she questioned, now getting back to typing out the book list.

“It's a female. Her name’s Riley.”

“Riley! Like your surname?”

“Yeah. I found her starved and thrown in a dumpster as a puppy, and I called my uncle to help me get her out. He adopted her and named her after me,” he said with a chuckle.

She smiled as she finished typing out the list and handed the phone back to him. “That's really nice, and really strange too, because my ex has a female German Shepherd named Riley too.”

Simon raised a brow as he took the phone and glanced at the list before keeping the device aside. “Chalk that off as a coincidence. I guess many people have German Shepherds named Riley. The name is quite common… I think,” he said. But the mention of the ex intrigued him. “You mentioned your ex. So, you've dated before, then?” he asked directly but casually, hoping he wasn't being too nosy.

She shrugged. “Yeah, one guy.”

“What happened with your ex, if you don't mind me asking?”

He saw that she stiffened slightly and looked away for a moment, clearly looking uncomfortable. He was so close to backing off when she answered him, “Well…” she paused to suck in a sharp breath through her teeth, “He was an older guy, and I happened to keep bumping into him at my local grocery store.”

He raised a brow, first of all at the fact that she dated someone older, and second of all, she met him at the grocery store, the least romantic place to find a boyfriend. But he didn't say anything and listened anyway.

“The first time we met, he mistook me for an employee and asked me where he could find the dog food,” she chuckled, “He was new to the area and didn't know where to find it in the grocery store, and I was also wearing something similar to the uniform of the store employees.”

“So you two hit it off then?”

“Yeah, after that, we'd have small talk, and he was actually quite charming. He asked me out on a date, we liked each other, and then we dated for two months.”

“Hm, that's not very long, innit?” he murmured, “How old were both of you?”

“I was nineteen and he was thirty-five.”

“Holy fuck,” his eyes widened slightly, “Nineteen? That's really young.” He then paused to count, “And you guys had a sixteen year age gap.”

Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Yeah, I know, it's crazy.”

“You prefer older blokes then?” asked Simon, fiddling with his fingers as he leaned forward on the table, hoping she would refute it.

“Well no, but I was…” she sighed, “I was trying to figure out what sort of man I liked.”

“And your first choice was an older man,” he thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud. “Wasn't that potentially dangerous though? Sure, you weren't a minor, but you were still young.”

She sighed again, but heavier this time. “Yeah, it kind of messed me up a little.”

“It did? How?”

She told him about how he could get a little demanding when it came to spending time with him, as she was a budding author at the time, and was busy with writing a good piece that was worth publishing.

“Of course, even though I was busy, I tried my best to spend time with him. But he just wasn't satisfied. And since I lived at the dorm in uni, I had a curfew, but he would disregard it completely and beg me to stay and spend the night with him, when I wasn't comfortable with it yet. Thanks to that, just being around him ramped up my anxiety, and our relationship that was once enjoyable wasn't anymore.”

Simon felt tempted to ask if she had done anything intimate with her ex, but bit back, not wanting to come off as rude and intrusive. He listened with narrowed eyes and keen earnestness. “And so you broke up then?” he asked.

“Yeah, and it surprisingly went well. Both of us mutually agreed that the relationship wouldn't work out, and we parted ways.” She paused for a long time and Simon didn't break her spell of silence, sensing a struggle in her to say the next words. She finally continued, “I thought that that was the end of it, but lately he's been calling me again, asking me if we could get back together.”

Simon raised a brow again. “What? How daft is he? He has no shame groveling back to you.”

“Yeah… I spoke to him once to clearly tell him I wasn't interested anymore, but I don't think he understands.”

As if on cue, her phone started ringing. When she checked who was calling, she recognized the unsaved number immediately, having seen it several times. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, feeling the same old anxious feeling rise from her chest to constrict her throat. “It's him,” she said, her voice quivering.

Simon held out his hand. “I'll speak to him.”

“Are you sure?” she asked frantically.

“I'm sure. Give it here before he cuts it,” he urged.

She hastily placed the ringing phone in his hand and he immediately picked it up.

“Hello, mate. ____’s boyfriend here. What do you want with my missus?” he asked calmly.

There was a brief silence.

“Simon?” asked the deep, rumbling, yet gentle voice on the other side.

The colour drained from Simon's face as he recognized the voice he knew and loved.

“Uncle John?”

Plot twist?

End of Part 5.

Part 6

I'm making a taglist btw. Leave a comment if you want to be included!

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