#also I mean. he was written by men who are.
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Rating: 18+ minors DNI
Summary: Brielle's life was the epitome of rags to riches. She had it all. Fame, fortune, and an older wealthy husband who kissed the ground she walked on. That is until haunting thoughts of her future where he became the only superstar in their marriage, forces her to fall into a downward spiral before her time.
Pairing: Roman Reigns (Joe) x Black Fem OC (Brielle)
Warnings: Age gap // Smut // Angst // Arguing // Addiction & alcohol abuse // Profanity
Word Count: 8.9k (once again, so sorry lol)
Inspo: Flashing Lights by Kanye West
A/N: I actually got the inspiration for this from another piece iâm working on, only itâs not fan fiction. I changed some things around. Same premise: young supermodel married to an older, wealthy and prominent man. If I ever decided to publish the original work, it will most likely be professionally (novel) not on social media. Anyway, this is a test run lol let me know what yâall think. Tell me what you like/donât like. This is wayyy smuttier than the last jawn lol. Happy reading bitches!
Also, my taglist form is up. I'll add more options of posts to be tagged in as my blog grows.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.
I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.
This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.
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âYou want a refill, love?â The young, blonde bartender offered Brielle a weak smile that she returned.Â
âFuck it, why not?â She pushed the now empty martini glass aside watching her work. It wasnât long ago that Brielle was the hustler on the other side of the bar. Every bartender had a sixth sense. One that told them who needed a drink versus who just wanted one. And Brielle was in desperate need of a drink.Â
She turned slightly away from the bar top to scan the sea of people in the upscale ballroom before her, looking for one face in particular. Normally he wouldnât be hard to spot. He stood six foot three, and was two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure muscle. Only, the room was full of men with the same build in suits.
She tapped her expensive Russian manicure on the glass surface, squinting. She found him surrounded by a few of his colleagues and his boss, indulging in what looked like deep conversation. She fought the urge to roll her eyes knowing it couldn't have been that deep. Most likely the usual mindless chatter men share. Sports, pussy, wrestling, cars, politics and more pussy.
Brielle couldn't help but to stare. He was Dapper Dan, in an all black Tom Ford suit, hand-picked by Brielle herself. On his left wrist sat a two-toned AP. No diamonds. He had never been the flashy type. He didn't need to be. His aura spoke for itself, always giving away the fact that he was worth a billion before he ever even opened his mouth. Clean cut with a thick dark beard, lined to perfection. His shiny locks pulled back in his signature sleek bun.Â
He must've felt her. His eyes locked in on her before she even noticed he was staring back. He flashed that billion dollar smile from across the room and Brielle almost forgot that she wanted to be anywhere else but where she currently stood.Â
Just when it looked like he would make his way over, two more of his colleagues joined the group, reeling him back in. Oh, fuck me, she thought.
âBabe, while you're at it, how about a shot of Vodka?" Brielle asked with her head now in her hands.
The bartender chuckled at the only miserable seeming person in the ballroom. "Particular brand?â
"Whatever has the highest percentage.â
It was the week before a paper-view event. Summer-slam? Royal Rumble? Wrestle-mania?âShit she didnât know. She couldnât keep up with that shit anymore than he could keep up with the endless runway shows and fashion weeks all over the world. What she did know? It was all a pain in her ass. The whole ordeal. The weeks leading up, the actual event, and all the fallout from it. Black tie events, interviews about storylines she didnât have a clue about, terms she barely understood and unfamiliar faces. Worst of all? Her manâs hands were too full to assist in carrying any of her weight.Â
He was the one. The whole WWE universe orbited around him and the rest of the Bloodline. That was means for him to be involved in every little aspect of the company. Pulled him every which way, in every direction. The forefront of it all.
In his world, Brielle always found herself taking a step back. She was used to being center of attention, all eyes on her, and the cameraâs object of affection. But this was different. Sports entertainment wasnât her lane. The cameras and microphones werenât for her here. Its like someone picked Barbie up and dropped her in an all menâs gym.
"Here you go, love."Â
Brielleâs night was starting to go uphill at the sight before her. A colorful martini and a clear shot filled to the brim of the shot glass. God bless the bartender.
âThank you so much. Do I even wanna know what this is?â She picked up the shot first.
âProbably not,â she shook her head, already onto the next patron flagging her down.
Like it was water, Brielle got it down in one gulp and chased it with the Apple martini. She shouldâve asked for a water. The shot ignited her insides like a furnace, waking her up immediately.Â
âOh, come on girl. It canât be that bad.â Her lips curved widely into a genuine smile at the familiar voice. âWhat you got going on over here?â Jey held the martini glass up to his nose and jerked his head back with a screwed face. âI canât get with that vodka, now.â
âGood. It's for the grown ups anyway.â He pulled her slim body into a comforting hug. âWhereâs Kecia?â She looked past him for his wife, getting her hopes up that maybe this night wouldnât be so excruciating if she had a friend.Â
âLilâ man got sick. Iâm dolo tonight.â She audibly exhaled and flagged the bartender down.
âYeah, iâma need another one of whatever that was.â
He rubbed her bare back that was exposed in the silk Roberto Cavalli gown, in an attempt to alleviate some tension. Heâs bore witness already on multiple occasions, of what the night could become after Brielleâs frustrations have been amplified by too many drinks.Â
âWhereâs that big-headed husband of yours?â He searched.
She waved a hand. âHe was somewhere talking to Hunter in a huddle. I think I saw Seth with them. I doubt theyâre in the same spot still.â
âStay put,â he instructed before walking off.
Two shots and two drinks later, Brielle had opened and closed every app downloaded to her phone. She made useless conversation with the young blonde that fed her drinks, getting interrupted every time someone new came up to ask for a drink. It seemed like she was second priority to everyone in her line of sight.
She looked over her slim shoulder to find Joe, with Paul by his side, and to no surprise a camera and microphone in their faces. He stood with his big hands locked in front of him, listening to each of their questions intently.
The ballroom hosting the night was exquisite. The pinnacle of wealth. A three-piece chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling. Spacious as can be with marble flooring. Cathedral-like interior, giving the room an ancient castle feel. White clothed table tops accompanied by groups of people, babysitting glasses of champagne, caught in conversation. Then there was Brielle. Secluded, getting drunk at the bar.
Itâs not that Brielle was ungrateful or necessarily unhappy. What was happiness anyway? In a room full of prominent strangers, drink in hand, she thought about what happiness and living a fulfilling life meant to her before. Before all of this. Not just Joe and his world, but her new one too.
Before the flashing lights and glamour, it seemed so simple. She just wanted to survive. So happiness to her back then wouldâve been the equivalent to just living, as opposed to surviving. And however that came, she was ready to snatch it by the balls and never let go. Didnât matter if it was attached to a wealthy man, the lottery by some miracle, or just straight finesse.
Brielle had came a long way from sleeping on her sisterâs couch and surviving off scraps of tips in a sports bar. She was scouted on a late night slinging drinks. An older caucasian man who was just there to watch the NFL game, ended up being one of the head photographers for French Vogue.
One look at her face, with exceptional bone structure, beauty mark planted naturally on her chin, soft doe eyes, and he was mesmerized. Inspired. He almost had to beg her to come to his studio and take a few pictures. It was New York. Any old pervert with a camera could come in a bar and lure a young beautiful woman to his âstudio.â And although Brielle, starving for a change of pace in life and obviously struggling, with her long low ponytail loose from the chaotic night; that didnât mean she had to be desperate or naĂŻve.Â
He slid his business card on the bar top. Still hustling and bustling to give the growing crowd their drinks, she didnât even give it one look. âJust think about it, please!â He shouted with a thick accent over the wave of excitement after the Eagles made a touchdown. âMy number is on the card!â
âYeah, sure!â She shouted back uninterested. Almost a whole half hour after he left, she shook the alcohol-soiled card from off the bar top and when her eyes focused on the French Vogue logo, she nearly choked.
Damn right she called the next morning. Seven a.m. sharp. She had only clocked out three hours before and stole an hour of sleep.
He instructed her to come bare faced, in a white tank top, jeans, and her hair pulled back, just as it was the night before. She didnât know he really meant just how it was the night before. When she arrived with a tight low ponytail, slicked back to perfection, he pulled it looser and staged a few fly aways.
He ordered her to move exactly how he wanted her.
âChin up, please.â
âRaise your hand a little.â
âTurn slightly to the right.â
âLook away from the camera.â
She posed and posed, while he snapped away. It took hours. The whole morning had passed. He needed it to be perfectly imperfect. Although skilled in professional photography and supermodels being his area of expertise, Brielle was new territory for him. He had to find a way to sell the young distressed girl from the Harlem bar, with deer-like beauty, to the executives at Vogue.
They were looking for the next big thing. And while their eyes were on the next Bella Hadid or Kendall Jenner, he had something better in mind. Something more refreshing and relatable. When destiny placed him right on a path to spotting Brielle in that bar, he felt his whole life about to change forever. And it did. Right along with hers.
She wore stardom well. Fame fit her like it was custom made. The âIt Girl.â Thats what they were calling her. Known for her doe eyes, the beauty mark, and her sharp east coast wit. She rose to the top of the food chain at what seemed like the speed of light. Everything had moved so fast. The flashing lights of cameras blinded her at every corner. A new city, a new country every other week. A complete one-eighty for a girl who prior to signing with her modeling agency, had never been outside of New York.Â
She was partying with the A-listers and whoever was above them at the top of the social food chain. Gracing the cover of over three hundred magazines, both national and international. The most desired runway model of her peers. She was being pulled and stretched thin. She was zooming through life in the fast line, picking up nasty habits just to keep up. She was swimming in millions, so stopping or even slowing down wasn't an option.
The general public had their eyes glued to her. She picked up the attention of CEOs, NBA players, actors, and anyone else who mattered. Brielle had always been the kind of girl to live her life on the go. Never limiting herself to one man because she saw herself as too much woman for just one anyhow. She dated and fucked them all. Spent their money well and had them hanging off the edge of their seat for more. None of them stuck. None of them were special or so different from the one before. That was until she crossed paths with WWE Superstar, Roman Reigns, or as she would come to know him as, Joseph Anoaâi.
One erotic night spent with him after an ESPY Awards afterparty, and it couldnât have been more clear to her that he had to be hers. Sheâd keep this one for herself. He was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Joe was a go-getter, just like her. They were cut from the same cloth. The breadwinners of their family, paving the way and making it seamless for everyone who came after them.Â
When she found herself in Joeâs orbit, that fast life filled with nasty habits, slowed down a bit. Nothing else mattered. It's like they were the only two on planet earth and everything else was just distant noise.Â
They married only three months after knowing each other. When you know, you just know. Of course the public had their opinions about how they were just another Hollywood couple that wouldnât last, but majority of the world adored them.Â
The wedding was like a national holiday. Vogue did an entire spread of them and it was flying off the shelves. That cover would be the one to define the entire state of stardom in their generation. It was everywhere. Joe sitting open-shirt, with Brielle and her half a million dollar Givenchy wedding gown, on his lap. Picture perfect.
Fiji was their honeymoon destination. An entire week off the grid. Nothing but love making, skinny dipping in the waterfall caves, and two people who couldnât seem to get enough of each other, celebrating a whole lifetime they had left to get tangled in each otherâs web.
Returning to the states was like entering into another level of life. It seemed her instantaneous marriage to Joe, took her status from superstar to legendary. She was Diorâs new muse and Joe was her older, wealthy, athletic husband. For the first time in all of Brielleâs twenty-five years of living, she was happy.
But that was back then. Three years later the stakes are higher. Sheâs adapted and now her ideas of what happiness is, have changed. Sheâd have to go back to the drawing board to figure out exactly what she wanted out of life. There were just a few hurdles and demons sheâd have to address before then.
Her alcohol dependence for one. While most supermodels indulged in coke or popping pills, Brielleâs fatal flaw was alcohol. It started off as her just blacking out at parties like everyone else would. Then it escalated. She became the party girl. Always dancing on tables. Skinny dipping in someoneâs pool. It was harmless until she started getting into scuffles in nightclubs. TMZ catching her and Joe having a screaming match where she was obviously drunk. Picking fights and starting shit with him at public events, like the one they were at now.Â
She clung to drinking because it helped her cope, especially lately, with the fact that the life she was doused in and became accustomed to, wouldnât always be. It haunted her.
All models have an expiration date. She dreaded the day when it came. It would come like a thief in the night she had heard. One day sheâd be trending, booked and shoved on every platform possible. The next day it would all vanish. Sheâd go from being Joeâs sexy, young, supermodel wife, to just his wife.Â
Alcohol was her companion. Alcohol was there on the lonely nights, early mornings, and impossibly long days. Alcohol was there on nights like tonight, when she felt alone in a room full of people. When her mind was overrun by dark thoughts of the unforeseeable future, where her career and everything she worked for would be in limbo.Â
Joe just didnât get it. Women were treated accordingly based on their looks. Men were treated accordingly based on their pockets. He could be retired and worn out and theyâd still love him as long as he was paid. This wasnât her reality. And there bore another disconnect in their marriage.
She loved Joe. There was no denying that. A blind man didnât need to see it, because just by standing within two feet of them he would be able to feel it. From the night they met, neither could ignore the magnet-like, invisible force, urging them to one another. First night, nothing but heat and passion transpired between them. And it stayed that way every night after, only growing. But sometimes passion painted an ugly picture. People were passionate about addiction. Others passionate about racism. Passion is not synonymous with healthy.
They came colliding into one another from two different worlds, seemingly at the same pace. Young, hungry, and swimming in new money. Only he was oil and she was water. Brielle just always felt like a jaguar in a room full of house cats. Completely out of place. Out of her element. Too much. Their worlds just didnât mix. Or so she thoughtâŚ
âBrielle?â A feminine voice questioned not too far from behind her.Â
Brielle paused her idle twisting of the wedding ring, weighing her left hand down, to turn to the voice in question.
A yellow-boned, thin woman, as tall as her stared back with an infectious grin. She had thick, wavy curls, cascading down her back. The emerald green silk gown she wore only enhancing her smooth skin. The bitch was bad and still, Brielle couldnât pinpoint where she knew her from. Brielleâs eyes somehow landed on the red birthmark that adorned the mystery womanâs right hand and it hit her like a wrecking ball.
âMillie?â Her head dipped. âOh my god.â The two beauties conjoined in a hug and rocked side to side chuckling in equal disbelief that they had found one another. âWhat are you doing here?â
âGirl, modeling was a bust. Trying to dip my toes into this sports journalism thing. Iâve just been interviewing some of the guys on the roster before Summerslam next week.â
Millie had been one of the very few models Brielle took a liking to during her early years doing runway. During her first fashion week they were glued to each otherâs hip. Exchanging gossip, sex stories, walking tips and beauty secrets.Â
It had been nearly two years since she laid eyes on her. It's like she had vanished from the face of the earth. That happened a lot in the modeling industry. So many pretty faces came and went. It was hard to keep up. She chalked it up to her probably getting sent to rehab for a coke problem or something. Thats usually where the models disappeared to. That or a billionaire from another country scooped them up.
Born to two Cuban immigrants, Millie was just trying to get ahead in the city of dreams, but nothing about her stood out to scouts and labels. She had a killer walk, but runway was all she could pull off. Her face card was exceptional, but it wasn't memorable. And anything other than memorable in the modeling world would get one tossed and forgotten quick.
âWhereâs Joe?â Millieâs eyes danced around the room.
Brielleâs eyebrows shot up at the mention of her husband. His name fell so comfortably from the girlâs plump lips, it's like sheâs said it a thousand times over.
âJoe?â Usually people who didnât know him referred to him by his stage name, Roman. Millie had to have been somewhat familiar with him to call him by his name.
âYeah,â she waved almost with a child-like giddiness once she found him across the way. He put a big hand up and nodded once to acknowledge her. Brielle tried to keep her face neutral, observing the whole exchange.
âY-you know Joe?â
âOf course I do. He didnât tell you?â She grinned wide.
Only Brielleâs eyes looked around in wonder. âTell me what?â She chuckled to ease the underlying tension.
âJoe and I dated. Way, way back in the day.â
âDated?â Her doe eyes became significantly wider. âWell, when was this?â She probed through a tight, manufactured smile as to not throw Millie off.
âOh, girl,â the Latin beauty waved a dainty hand chuckling. âThat was so long ago. He was still with The Shield, then. Didnât even have a full beard.â Brielle tried to swallow an insult. It was on the tip of her tongue as she watched Millie eye her husband with nostalgia all in her gaze. No, she wanted her to keep spilling. She knew Joe would downplay it, so this was her best bet at collecting the truth.
âI was so happy for you guys after the proposal.â Millie finally snatched her eyes from Joe to focus on Brielle. âAnd that cover and spread in Italian Vogue? Fucking iconicâŚâ It was now Brielleâs turn to burn a hole through her husband. She tried her best to not let the thoughts running through her mind, show on her face, but it was all in the vein that made itself visible on her forehead. The constant rubbing of her fingertips. If Millie touched her, sheâd probably jump like she had come in contact with a stovetop burner. âIt's crazy though,â Millie continued with her head cocked to the side. âJoe never struck me as the marrying type. Donât get me wrong heâs an absolute sweetheart. I just couldnât see him sitting in one spot long enough for just one woman to catch his attention. I guess men really do change for who they want to,â Millie finished with a drawn out sigh.
âYeah. I guess they do, huhâŚâ
âWell, this was a shock.â Millie stretched her arms out and Brielle came in for another hug. Her smile faded once she rested her chin on her shoulder and reemerged after pulling back.
âIt was really nice to see you, Mills. Good luck on the whole journalism thing.â
Millie flashed Brielle another bright smile and walked off in a direction she wasnât paying attention to because she was too busy glaring at Joe still.
There were days when Brielle took into account what the public had said about her marriage. That it was fake. For publicity. Or that it simply wouldnât last because of how fast the two seemingly fell in love.Â
They didnât waste any time. Fucked on the first night. Vacationed together a week after. He was moving her in just a month later. Before Brielle knew it, he was down on one knee asking her to spend the rest of her life with him. Her infatuation with the kindhearted man who looked like he could kill anyone with his bare hands, drove her decision. She loved the way he took charge of his life and career, and turned the entire business in his familyâs favor. How he kicked cancerâs ass. How every room he went in, people couldnât help but to stop and stare.
It seems they did everything backwards. Got all the big hurdles out the way and worked their way down. Brielle found herself at times dumbfounded at just how little she knew about Joeâs past. Too many times sheâs had to sit and listen to someone tell her something about the man she slept next to.
Sheâs not stupid. Of course there were women before her. I mean look at him. But a model? Models were such superficial creatures. Always caught up in glamour and materialistic matters. Joe was too grounded and down to earth in Brielleâs mind to bat an eye at what the world viewed as a mannequin. She thought she was the exception. Clearly not.
From across the way, Joe caught his wife staring at him again. His mouth curved into a smirk and he winked at her.
âSexy, two-faced bastard,â she mumbled bringing the glass of vodka to her lips.
The couple rode back to their penthouse in an uncomfortable silence. After any event, the partition was rolled up so Brielle could bless her man whatever way she saw fit. They couldnât keep their hands off each other. But tonight, she clung to the left door in the back of the black Suburban, eyes never leaving the tinted window, gazing at the bright lights that decorated the city.Â
Joe gave a harsh side eye to her. The deliberate space she placed between them by crossing her legs to the door was a dead give away that she was pissed. Physical touch was a shared love language between them. The absence of it could be felt immediately.
He refused to gauge what the issue was in such a confined space. That mistake was made several times before and never ended well. Heâd have to wait until they were alone and in the comfort of their own space.
She didnât realize, but his eyes were on her all night while she threw each glass the bartender fed her back like it was the fountain of youth. When Jey found him they both exchanged looks. It didnât need to be said. The soft spot Joeâs cousin grew for Brielle, couldnât overshadow his concern for her obvious drinking problem. He and his brother Jimmy got a front row seat to the downfall of Americaâs beloved couple. Too many nights having to chase an intoxicated Brielle down, or dragging them apart from verbally destroying each other.
All night, Joeâs anxiety grew like wildfire with every drink and every minute that passed where he couldnât just leave with her. Now, in the backseat of the truck, he rubbed his forehead already feeling a headache from the argument that hadnât even happened yet. He wished he could just press a button and fast forward to the part where they fucked and forgot about whatever the problem was.
When they got to their building, she stormed out of the car not bothering to wait for the driver or Joe to open her door like usual. Ignoring the doorman and the lady at the front desk she usually greets, her heels clicked aggressively on the marble floor of the lobby all the way to the elevator.Â
Joe stood behind her near the back elevator wall. He bit his bottom lip at the deep line in her back that led to her perky ass. Even with her attitude, he had the urge to rip her clothes off and fuck it right out of her. The elevator dinged when they reached the top floor. She wasted no time breezing fiercely through the foyer area, and collecting the bottom of her gown in her hands to stomp up the wooden floating stairs.
âBrielle, bring your ass back down here.â He didnât raise his voice. He didnât have to. Brielle had fell in love with the way he could make the world and everyone in it shift without doing too much. Not tonight though. No, tonight the control he had over her pissed her off to no end. She turned around in the middle of the steps, but defiantly didnât make a move to come down. Instead she stood her ground and crossed her arms like a child about to be grounded.
âAlright. Letâs get this shit over with.â He removed the suit jacket and laid it over the back of the all white loveseat and rested his hands on his hips. âWhat has pissed Brielle off tonight, huh?â
âBesides the fact that my husband has been passed around?â She shrugged throwing the first punch. âI donât know.â
He chuckled in disbelief. âYou wanna elaborate, sweetheart?â
âYou and Millie? Why didnât I know that you two dated?â
âDated is a very generous word. More like slept together.â
âDonât try to downplay it, okay? Doesnât matter what happened between you two. Why did I have to hear it from her?â
âI don't understand whatâs pissed you off? The fact that Iâve fucked with other women before you?â
âIâm not talking about other women.â She slapped the back of her hand to her other palm sharply. âIâm talking about one woman. A woman I considered a friend. A friend I told you about!â
His shoulders shrugged almost high enough to reach his ears. âWhy does it matter? You knew her like two years agoââ
âIt doesnât matter if I knew her ten years ago, damn it!â She stormed down the stairs and brushed past him to the kitchen. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shook his head knowing what she went in there for. More alcohol.
Cabinets opened and shut continuously, until he heard her heels making their way back to the living room. She stood across from him vexed.
âI threw it out,â he answered the question she didnât have to ask. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he was ready for however she would react.Â
She scoffed and giggled at once. âDonât you think my drinking is the last thing you should be worried about right now?â
âWhat could be more important than you getting healthy?â
She rolled her eyes looking to the ceiling with a forced smile. âI canât believe this. I sat there all night watching you work the room. By myself! While you work, you expect me to just sit in a corner like a fucking mannequin? Smile and look pretty, right? Donât say a word, donât draw too much attention? Well tell me, Joe, what would you have done tonight?â She held a hand up. âOh wait! Don't let me forget, just when the night couldnât get any worse, I have to hear the horror story of how my husband and my friend used to fuck!â
âYou are so fucking ungrateful,â he shook his head removing his cufflinks. âUnbelievable.â
âUnââ She scoffed. âUngrateful?â She turned her head as if she didnât hear him right.
âThats right,â he nodded with a face void of any expression. âLook around you. Look at where you are.â He spread his toned arms out wide. âIn a penthouse overlooking all of Brooklyn. Five hundred thousand dollar dress on. Closet full of designer that could feed a fucking third-world country. Fucking thousand dollar sculptures from Italy, just for it to sit on a glass table all day.â Brielle flinched at the Versace Rokko Cheetah sculpture flying to the other side of the room and shattering. Just as quick, she straightened up, knowing he wasnât crazy enough to take his frustrations out on her that way.
âWhatâs your point, Joe?âÂ
âMy fucking point is, I put you on the highest pedestal possible and I work my ass off every day to make sure you can live like this. And all you seem to be worried about is some bitch I was smashing, back when I used to bring a damn blow up mattress with me to arenas?â He squinted in disbelief.Â
âYouâre missing my whole point!â
âWhat point?!â
Back and forth they shouted, but still neither one of them heard the other. It was all pointless. Just a battle of pride and resentment.
âOh my god,â he threw his hands up. âOh my god. This is fucking stupid. I canât believe this, is what you want to fight about.â
Brielleâs chest stung and her eyes followed suit. Her feelings were stupid now. Just a blimp on his star-studded life. There was a point in time, where every little need, every little voice of discomfort, he would fall at his feet to correct for her.Â
She turned and rushed up the steps. She was overwhelmed and refused to keep the yelling match up. In their walk-in closet, she let the dress fall and pool around her feet, to change into her mint-colored Juicy Couture sweatsuit. She stuffed an LV duffel with clothes and headed to the bathroom next to sweep everything that was hers off the counter and into the bag.
Unfazed by her theatrics, Joe sat on the couch downstairs, shaking his head at all the ruckus she was making.Â
âGâhead,â he waved. âLeave. Youâll be back anyway.â
âFuck you, Joe!â
âYeah, sure.â He sat back on the cream colored couch, arms outstretched, dress shirt unbuttoned, without a care in the world.
Brielle and him both knew she wasnât going anywhere. It was the same shit every time. Theyâd argue and fuss all night, sheâd threaten to leave, packing a bag to stay in an expensive hotel, paid for with his black card. Heâd show up with an expensive gift. Usually jewelry. Maybe a bag by some designer that hadnât even hit the shelves yet. A trip to an island she had never been before. Shoes. Those were her favorite. She had a whole collection in the walk-in, courtesy of Joe. Each pair she could pinpoint which argument it was a result of.
After the grand gift, it was make up sex and theyâd be in the honeymoon phase for two weeks tops, then the cycle repeats. Joe had grown tired of it. Two years ago it was exciting and far left from the good girls with degrees he was used to.
Brielle was a breath of fresh air until her ways started to suffocate him. She had a personality that was larger than life and an attitude to match. Included in the packaging was a love so fiery and consuming, you forget to breathe. And although he had seen enough, been through enough, and was old enough to know better, he still found himself from time to time gasping for air after forgetting to breathe around her.
She was like a drug. Potent, exhilarating, and unpredictable. He was hooked. And unfortunately for the both of them, he wouldnât know how to get off her even if he tried.
Bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way back downstairs and all the way to the door.
âBrielleâŚâ The sound of his baritone voice had her frozen in place. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep from his nose. âYou walk out that door and you gonâ be sorry.â
âI just need spaceââ
âThen pick a room. It's real spacious in here.â
Brielle turned and made her pursuit back to the stairs. He wasnât going to let her leave tonight. She didnât just want space, she wanted the one thing she depended on when it felt like the walls of her life were closing in on her. And he was actively trying to take that away from her.
âI hate you,â she spat with venom in all three words.
The foot that was previously propped up on the glass coffee table came down as he sat up, elbows rested on his knees.
âIm sorryâŚwhat?âÂ
âYou heard me.â She started back up the floating steps, but halted upon seeing him rise to his full height in her peripheral. She had only made it to the third step. She turned in place and there he was at the bottom, eye level now.
âYou wanna repeat that again, while Iâm standing right here in your face?â He dared, hands clasped in front of him.
She knew better than to test him. Hate wasn't something they just tossed back and forth. Irritation, maybe. Disgust even. But hate? Joe didnât play that shit. Not with her or anybody else in his circle.
He nodded with his tongue just barely teasing the hairs on the side of his mouth. âYeah, I thought so.â
âThat fucking character you play,â she squinted looking him up and down. âItâs not a fucking character! Youâre a narcissistic, manipulative, controllingââ
âYou were singing a whole different tune this morning.â Her mind flashed to just fourteen hours prior when he was balls deep, quite literally driving her up the shower wall. In the aftermath they held each other as she told him how much he meant to her and how he changed her life. The man from this morning and the one in front of her were two different men with the same face.
She shook her head holding back tears. âYouâre never who I need you to be when I need you to be it,â she exaggerated. Joe always knew who to be. Always knew exactly where it hurt. If he showed up as something different it was seldom and with purposeful intent.
Something dark flashed in his eyes. âWell maybe if you opened your fucking mouth and told me what you needed, I could provide it. But, no. Youâd rather look for answers at the bottom of a shot glass! So tell me, Brielleâtell me! What do you need?!â
âI donât know!â She screamed in frustration and was snatched off the steps by the front of her hoodie.
Their lips collided. Two tornadoes full of angst coming together to form what was their complicated ass marriage.Â
See, Joseph Anoaâi the man outside of the ring was delicate and considerate. He displayed affection as much as he could and never touched Brielle with any thing less than love. However, the man he was in the bedroom, or wherever else he saw fit to take Brielle down, was a beast. Unforgiving and relentless. His ring persona, Roman Reigns, took over him like he had a split personality. He manipulated, tossed and flipped Brielleâs slim frame however he wanted her. Narcissistic in the way he couldn't care less if he hit it so hard that she couldnât breathe.
Tonight was no different. As a matter of fact, tonight he had something to prove. It was deeper than just make up sex, or angry sex. He intended to break Brielle down. Resentment and frustration grew inside of him like weeds, all stemming from Brielleâs misbehaved, toxic and unpolished ways whenever she got an ounce of liquor in her. The garden was no longer pretty. He was tired of faking the funk. He was going to put his foot down tonight, making sure she felt all the consequences of her actions.
His big hands slid down to the back of her knees, hiking her up so her long legs could wrap around his waist. He never broke the connection. His thick tongue continued to invade her mouth, claiming whatâs his.
The pair expended all their breath and stole more from one another. That was the complicated formula of their bond. Give and take. Take then give.
Brielle stared up in awe at the god before her after he released her onto their all white couch. Every ridge and line in his abdomen telling a story of his hard work and dedication to his craft. He removed the black button up to reveal the rest of the artwork on his right arm, never breaking eye contact with his wife. His manhood made an impressive print through his slacks as it begged for freedom.
Brielle wasnât moving fast enough for him. In fact, she wasnât moving at all. She was too mesmerized by the sight of him. Good enough to eat, she thought. Every time she saw his body it felt like the first time.
He tore the zipper of her Juicy hoodie down in such haste to reveal her chocolate nipples, he broke it. Before Brielle could complain, she was flipped over and put on all fours. The waistband of her sweats were pulled down to her knees, exposing her warm core to the cold air.
A gasp escaped her lips as they fell wide open from the feeling of his entire mouth latching onto her most sensitive nerve. The entirety of his palms covered both ass cheeks, as he spread them apart to feast on her.
He didnât have the patience for formalities. She didnât deserve it anyway. He attacked her clit, switching from sucking and licking with broad strokes of his tongue.
 âOh myâfuckkkk.â Brielle was stuck between pushing back into his mouth and running from it completely. She wouldnât get far. The grip his rough hands established on her ass would lock her in place.
âSweet ass,â he mumbled into her. He pulled away for a second to bite down on her left cheek before going back to eating. A pit of pure ecstasy formed in her lower stomach impossibly fast. She shut her eyes tight, prepared to explode, listening to the wet sounds of him demolishing her and his hefty breaths. Her breathing accelerated while she reached for the pillow to gain some type of hold. And just when she thought she would reach her peak, she was left with nothing.
Joe pulled completely away once he decided she was ready for him. Something like a whimper left her pouted lips. He took his time unbuckling his pants and releasing himself from the confines of his briefs.
âStay down,â he demanded in a dark tone that sent a chill down her spine.
Brielle felt like a junkie, waiting and barely able to keep still. Joeâs tongue slid out over his top lip at the masterpiece before him. His supermodel wife, bent over and her wet, fat center exposed, waiting for him. His dick jumped and he grabbed the base of it to align with her pussy.
His thick mushroom head glided along her arousal, coating himself to prepare for entry. She struggled to keep still. He kept grazing over her sensitive bud and it was torture. She knew he was doing it on purpose. It was wicked how he watched her desperate, contorted face and listened to her pants knowing he could put an end to her misery.
âJoeâUhnn!â Brielle release a guttural moan from him pushing himself all the way in and bottoming out. Joe stayed there for a minute trying to brace himself. The grip and slickness always felt brand new. She was a hot head with an even hotter pussy, making it nearly impossible to leave her alone. Heâd lose his mind just at the thought of another getting to experience this after him.
Without warning he palmed the back of her neck so her face was flush against the couch cushion and he snapped his hips against hers repeatedly. Mercilessly.
âGet off me.â He shoved the arm she reached back, careful not to lose his rhythm. Although small, as a result of her strict diet and expensive Lagree classes, that ass still jiggled with every thrust.
âFuck! Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!â She moaned out every time he shoved his thickness back into her.Â
âShut up,â he jerked his hips as far as they could go and got comfortable. It felt too good to move and he was determined to make her lose her fucking mind.
Brielleâs mouth fell wide open. She didnât know what she felt. The line between pain and pleasure started to blur. She reached a hand back, in another attempt to make him ease up, but he caught it just in time and pinned it behind her small back in a vice grip.
âJoeâ
âShut the fuck up,â his top lip curled, thrusting into her again with the same force as before. âI donât wanna hear none of that shit. Fucking take it.â His free hand came down hard on her ass, immediately causing red welts to form.
Brielle was a glutton for punishment. Her pussy contracted and it was so wet she could hear the squishy noises like somebody was playing in running water.
âYou hear that shit, Bri?â
âYes, baby. Sheâs so wet for you."
âAt least sheâs honest.â His breathing was erratic as he tried to talk shit and fuck her at the same time. âShe always shows me love.â His hand came down again and he relished at the sight of her ass with new welts forming.
âFuck!â She cried. Another smack. Then another. His pace never faltering. He let his bottom lip sink between his teeth, concentrating on how his dick slid in and out of her effortlessly. She left him shining and covered in white stuff. Every stroke wetter than the last.
âYou hate me, Bri?â His eyebrows furrowed. She tried her best to look back at him. A sheen of sweat covered him and his hair had fell wildly over his broad shoulders.
Joeâs battle with leukemia had him holding everyone he loved in a vice grip, close to his chest, fearing the day he ever had to let go. He didnât have the luxury to invite negativity and hate of all things into his space. Which is why when Brielle expressed it earlier, it triggered something in him.
Brielle shook her head as much as she could. âNoâno!â
âHuh?â
His larger frame hovered over hers as he leaned over and gripped the back of the couch to push harder into it from a different angle.
âOh god! Noâbaby I swear I didnât mean it! I didnât mean it. Fu-uuuck!â Her voice shook as she tried to reason with him.
âTell daddy how sorry you are,â he toyed with her. Joe only needed to hear it for his own ego. He already knew she was sorry. She looked the part. Brows turned down, hands reaching and grasping to hold onto something, while she struggled to breathe and keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. Pathetic.
She tried to catch her breath and fulfill his wishes, but his every move sent a shockwave of pleasure right through her. All she could focus on was the feeling happening where they connected.
âSay it,â he demanded through clenched teeth.
âI-Iâm sorry! Iâm so sorry, daddy. It wonât happen again!â
âYeah, I know it wonât. Mhm, fuck.â His ways were backfiring on him as he felt the pressure for release build in his lower stomach.
Slowing his movements down, his hand came down on her ass again. âCome on,â he instructed. She already knew the drill, rocking back and forth on him at her own pace to help them both get to the finish line.
Together they ogled at one another. Brielle in complete awe at what he was doing to her body. Joe mesmerized by the beauty below him and trying to reconcile how she became his biggest problem.
He loved the fuck out of her. Would do anything for her. His favorite accomplishment. He vowed to spend the rest of his life with her, but everyday they spent together, that dream grew more out of reach.
How could something so ethereal looking be so problematic? So angry? So insecure?
Small whimpers and cries spilled from her throat before she made a declaration that calmed him as much as it terrified him.
âIâm gonna love you forever,â she declared. It was like a hex. A spell. Binding him to her forever. Cause the hard unshakeable truth was that as long as Brielle wanted him here, heâd never leave. No matter how many fights, how many crash outs, public incidents, he knew leaving her alone would leave him suffering.
Against his initial mission to punish her, his soft nature took control. He leaned all the way down to capture her plump lips in a kiss. He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her mouth to her cheek, until he reached her ear. Whispering a mix of loving reassurances and vile obscenities to her.
âI love you so much, Bri. Keep fucking me, baby. Just like that. Yesss. You feel so good,â he encouraged in between huffs of breath. âItâs all yours baby. Take it. Just yours. Nobody elseâs.â His deep voice directly in her ear and the smell of her own arousal lingering on his beard, sent her body into overdrive as her pussy spasmed around him.
Brielleâs orgasm caused a chain of reactions. His dick swelled inside her while his balls tightened. At the last second he pulled out and covered her round ass with his release. She wasnât on birth control and loathed the idea of kids ruining her physique.
He stroked himself until the last of his cum oozed out and threw his head back. âMm,â he groaned. Shame on Brielle. She laid on the couch, head spinning from the beating she just took mixed with all the shots she took earlier. She was just about ready to call it a night, but Joe had other plans.
âNot done with ya ass yet. Come show me how sorry you are.â Like he had just ran a match fighting off guys twice his size in the ring, his chest rose and fell as his voice became menacingly deep.
His tall frame stood in the living room, widening his stance with his hips slightly pushed forward. His dick was covered in her essence, still hard as a rock, swaying slightly from him shifting his weight back and forth on both legs.
She climbed down from the couch, knowing better than to make him wait. Crawling like the feline she was at heart, she stopped right in front of him. God, he was just fucking perfect. All she really wanted to do was climb on him and drag another nut out, but it had to wait.
Placing her dainty hands on his muscular thighs, she gazed up him and ducked slightly to swirl her tongue on his large balls. "Yeah," he breathed deep, savoring the feeling of her warm mouth.
She took his heavy dick in her hand, giving the tip teasing licks and swirls. The visual of her on her knees worshiping him was a sight to see as she gathered spit and let it ooze onto him before sinking his length into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing him as far as she possible could.
âLook at me,â he instructed in a guttural tone followed by a moan. It was music to her ears. Everything about him turned her on. She studied him and the look of mixed lust and love he provided as their eyes locked, prompting her to slide a hand down and rub herself. âThatâs right. Get it wet for me.â He rocked back and forth in her mouth, on the brink of another orgasm that quick. She watched the muscles in his abdomen flex from trying to hold his nut in.
He gathered her long silky tresses into somewhat of a ponytail in his hands and pushed her head down to hit the back of her throat repeatedly.
Going as far as her throat allowed he held her there and instinctively her hands pushed at his strong thighs. Tears spilled out the corner of her eyes feeling his warm release coat her throat.
âAghh!â He threw his head back, going to a whole different realm for a while and coming back down to earth. He looked down at the beauty below him. Mouth still full of him, mascara running, with spit decorating her chin and chest. She looked perfect to him like this. Vulnerable. Submissive. But he knew it was all just a result of the circumstances. This version of her would be long gone and forgotten in the days to come. So he decided right then, he would take full advantage while he could.
He hissed upon sliding out of her mouth as her cheeks sunk in. He lifted her up with one arm and she wrapped her legs around him. His other hand found his still semi-hard thickness to ease into her. Together they exhaled when he slid in. The feeling of her had him bricked back up in no time.
"Hold on. Tighter," he instructed. He maneuvered her long legs in crook of his arms before moving her up and down at full force. All gas no brakes.
Joe hummed softly to himself, turning in the California King bed toward his wife. It was late. Their night didnât end until the wee hours of the morning. He immediately knocked out when it was over. He was exhausted mentally and physically.
Brielle however, couldnât quiet her mind long enough to sleep. He found her wide awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark room. The city lights from their bedroom window cascaded over her enough for him to see her face. Something was wrong.
âWhatâs going on?â He questioned in a sleepy voice.
âCanât sleep.â
âThen come here.â When she didnât make a move to come closer to him, his eyebrows dented. She lay frozen in place, as the noice from the city took away from the eerie silence in the room.
âDo you think I need help?â
Joe released the breath he didnât know he was holding. They had this conversation before. Too many times. Only it was never a conversation. Mostly an argument of some sort. Him complaining and practically begging her to get help. Trying to reason and get her to see that drinking at every event, at every inconvenience, just wasnât normal. That it was killing them. Killing her.
âDoesnât matter what I think. What do you think about yourself?â
âI donât know,â she admitted. ââŚI donât know.â He watched a single tear slide out the corner of her eye. He wanted to blame his own eyes beginning to sting on him being a natural empath, but he knew that wasnât the whole truth. He loved this woman. So by default, whatever she felt he also felt times ten.
âI used to look in the mirror and loved what I saw. I was confident. Proud of what I was. And that was when I had nothing. I was a nobody three years ago. Now iâm somebody and I just feel so emptyâŚâ
Seeing a glimpse of the girl he met years ago, who snatched his heart from his chest with no remorse, had him frozen in place. Vulnerability was not a dress Brielle wore often. He bore a hole into the side of her face while she confided in him.
âAll the flashing lights, the cameras, the moneyâŚI donât know if iâll be able to handle the day it all stops. I donât think I know who I am without it anymore. I never meant for it to go this far.â
Joe took her dainty hand in his and squeezed. An attempt to let her know that everything was going to be okay. But the truth of the matter is that he didnât know if everything would be okay. He knew he loved her and that she loved him right back. Only problem with that? The saddest truth about life is that sometimes love is just not enough.
âŚ.Well?đ
I know yâall were asking for a continuation of Biggest Fan, but I already had this in the tuck and was hyper fixating. Plus, Iâm not entirely sure I want to continue Biggest Fan yet since I didnât plan on it. Iâll keep yâall updated.
As always, if you read up until this point, I am forever grateful. Feedback is greatly appreciated!
taglist: @raya-hunter01
#roman reigns#wwe#the tribal chief#romanreigns#oneshot#roman reigns oneshot#writers on tumblr#roman reigns x black oc#black writers#black writblr#roman reigns smut#wwe smut#smut#flashing lights#joe anoa'i#fanfic#roman reigns fanfiction#fan fic writing#writing#writeblr#fashion model#supermodel#SoundCloud#fic writing#black fanfic writer#writblr#female writers#black oc#black reader#x black reader
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What is a headcanon you have about Rodney that may be controversial?
SO Iâve been thinking about this since you sent it while I was cooking dinner last night and I stopped and walked into our room and went âDO I?â But uh. Anyway. I donât know that my Rodney opinions are super controversial but like.
I definitely think that heâs unfortunately something of a misogynist? I think he was fed a lot of toxic patriarchy bullshit growing up (the whole thing with Jeannie telling him heâs lucky to find a nice girl who puts up with him says a LOT about their upbringing) and he accepted it uncritically as, like, the way the world worksâ˘ď¸. I think he calls Sam Carter sexy and a dumb blonde because heâs insulted she doesnât want to be his friend so his first lashing out instinct is to Treat Her How Men Treat Women.
Do I think he learns and grows during SGA and starts treating women as people much more often? Yeah. I mean, thank fucking god right? Lmao
Anyway a good portion of Live Oak 5 is justâŚRodney being something of a misogynist and (as Iâve expressed at length to you my beloved wife audioletter) well I am a little bit worried people will hate me for it lol! But like. This is who he is.
#rodney mckay#it took me a while to tease out something actually interesting to say but I hope this fits the bill#wife contentâ˘ď¸#also I mean. he was written by men who are.#not the greatest with women#so thereâs that too
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Sometimes reading m/m fic where one is a trans guy feels like the author wanted to write het sex. Not always, some ftm guy x cis guy fics are awesome! It's just that the trans guy usually tends to be feminized. Often he's the sub. Rarely, if ever, does the trans guy in fic have a phalloplasty. (For the record, I am a currently pre-T and non-op trans guy.)
no yeah. people are into what theyâre into but you have to question why there is a general trend of âcis male character is diverse and complicated in his sexuality but the trans guy? oh yeah heâs a sub bottom the effects of t are ignored he likes and is completely fine with penis in vagina sexâ and thereâs little to no variation. also dare i say a lot of characters would not be like that at all. like. i dont think transmasc dean winchester would be fine being a bottom. actually. i think he would have a bad time with that. did we watch the same show
#âhe would not fucking say thatâ but itâs âhe would not fuck like thatâ#also the same people who exclusively write about or talk about trans men like this also go âwell i just cant relate to women. theyre all-#boring and stupid i mean poorly writtenâ#our queer experience#asks#fandom problems
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I don't like the judo flip in moa as much as the next guy but in my eyes it's largely the result of rick not taking female violence half as seriously as male violence (a result of viewing women as weaker and inferior to men such that their acts of violence don't need to be taken as seriously) and not so much anything about annabeth herself. like I do genuinely feel that annabeth is a complex heroine and definitely one of the better ones in the realm of ya action-adventure fiction produced in the past 25 years but she is still a girl being written by a man and all I'm saying is that her writing clearly reflects that sometimes (more in tags)
#case in point: the amazons#hazel: you keep slaves????#kenzie: no. the men just know their place#like...... sure jan. the parody of amazon the company isn't actually using immoral labor the workers just like it that way đĽ°#but that line about âknowing their placeâ would not fly the other way around#because women in power are not taken as seriously as a group of men dominating female workers would be#(we could talk about the futurama amazons too in this context because it's pretty much the same issue of female violence not#being taken seriously and played for laughs instead. iykyk)#do you guys know that trope of girls who are just comically aggressive and mean towards guys who barely reciprocate the energy#(like the majority of the female cast of naruto falls into this trope. again iykyk)#it's like a shallow attempt to write a strong female character by just making her an Angry mean nasty man-hater#or it's just a validation of some nerd's worldview that women are just always so mean towards men who never do anything wrong#and they definitely don't have power over women in society women are just Like that. for some reason#anyways if you couldn't tell by my pfp I'm an annabeth fan so I definitely don't mean this in an anti-annabeth way#just in a Critical of the way rick portrays women way#specifically women that he wants to come off as strong/powerful#and if you are a fellow annabeth stan and feel upset by this all I can say is that it isn't a bad thing to be critical of the way our faves#are written and in fact critical reading is a very important skill to exercise đ#this is also why I'm annoyed by the âannabeth is abusiveâ allegations because it's like Ok she's clearly not intended to come off that way#so instead of meaninglessly antagonizing annabeth (who isn't real) or fans who enjoy her/the ship in its entirety#what can we glean about the flaws of the writing. what can we glean about biases of the author who wrote the damn thing#(not saying I even agree with the allegations to begin with because I Don't but yk)#this whole thing stems from social constructs around gender (everything else in the world does) i.e. public reception to female violence#where real world female violence isn't taken seriously so female criminals face less harsh punishments OR the other way around and female#cruelty is received as even more egregious than male cruelty because how dare a woman be anything but kind and nurturing and angelic#btw this is not a safe space to be anti percĂŁbeth/annabeth in my notifs keep that to yourself bud đ#rr crit#pjo hoo toa#percy jackson
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so many people give early idw too much credit for leaning into the whole âcybertronians dont have genderâ thing. like it was 2005 that was NOT meant for nonbinary representation, it was there because simon furman, the guy whos been complaining about âthe raging feminist mobâ since the 80s, straight up did not want female transformers to exist in idw
#some writers did some really interesting things with it but you guys GOTTA recognize why it was there in the first place#like yeah it ended up being used to explore trans characters like lug and anode but it was very much established so that women wouldnt exis#it was written by one of those morons who sees men as the default and the entire concept of âgenderâ as âwokeâ#when simon furman says âtransformers dont have genderâ he means âtransformers have one gender and its no girls allowedâ#tf#transformers#also obviously it wasnt just simon furman but in my mind hes the biggets offender. mostly because i just hate him
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.
#mixed feelings about liam attending louisâ show#i do love when the boys support each other#and god knows how loyal these two have been to each other#liam has been the most supportive of louis and vice versa#and as louis has said: theyâre the only ones who know what they went through in the band and thatâs something that will always tie them to#*together#but i read mayaâs article about her book#and listen. i know itâs written as fiction. but i know for a fact fiction is a way to process things#she was what? 18? she was very young#a lot of what she describes is heartbreaking#i donât like the way some people are painting her as a money hungry villain (literally what the fuck???)#yâall like it or not these men arenât perfect#theyâve fucked up in the past and have hurt people#there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that#dismissing mayaâs experience just because you love him wonât change anything#heâs louisâ friend but just because heâs HIS friend doesnât mean i owe him loyalty#i also want to clarify âi donât hate him#just putting my thoughts out there#actually prepared to get attacked for this but itâs okay#logan.txt
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idk if i have stated in so many words before but kinda weird for people not to care about the brown men of the story on account of them being men
like most people did to javi irl what the yellowjackets did in the show lol, dismissed always, no more than the little kid, he was already dead
#and like i know you're not only being weird about their race but also that they get inbetween your girlhood fantasies#as if the story isn't based around the lord of the flies which is exclusively a look into white british boys behavior#so i ask of you what does that mean for who the yellowjackets represent like are they truly girlhood#or considering me and the other fans of color conferred and realised this shit wasn't even written with black or brown women#in mind or their ethnicity for input in the writing like idk adding kessell to the writing ffs anyway#so it's clear this was written with white womanhood in mind like#don't y'all think it reflects a particular female rage more trapped in time and space than entirely universality#which is ok if racist tbh but it still allows a look into a particular face of womanhood and not all encompassing#and again travis and javi were right there the tragedy is of childhood not girlhood there he didn't even get to be a person just the#annoying little kid in most of their eyes it's kind of sad#and telling y'all could dismiss javi and travis so easily before lile they're not brown men#fuck im angry#yellowjackets
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i started reading this fucking out of character thick of it fanfic like a week ago bc even tho i could tell from first glance it was going to be ooc i was just curious and it sounded kind of funny slash tragic. (how are you tagging grief child death domestic violence attempted suicide on a ttoi fic hello?) and i dooo like complaining And for the most part if it weren't supposed to be about those guys it would just be pretty good so im not Regretting it? but i didn't realise how many stories were in the series and im probably 150k words in. and not much more than halfway through
#and it doesnt even have sex scenes. fml#me.txt#iam also so fed up with writing that seems to romanticise women prioritising men andtheir emotions over their own personal safety/ wellbeing#like im not saying you cant Depict that but maybe lets unpack that. and not treat it as if it's just that woman's inherent personality#rather than a something shes been Taught to do#though while we're on the subject actually i dont think the way nicola is written is in character either#like i focus on malcolm bc its more egregious but nicola is not.. shes not putting her kids before herself like that.#i know losing one of them might make a difference but its not even presented like it's bc of that. its just oh im writing a woman well her#priority must be her kids! well no she is a bad mum and doesnt really like her kids so#but that didnt stand out to me so much until i started rewatching s3.#i was more like ah yes. famously anti-racist feminist ally malcom tucker who easily goes not just hours but months at a time without saying#anything homophobic and uses the occasional ableist turn of phrase in his mind but usually keeps it to himself.#i mean i can definitely understand not wanting to comr up with and write realistic malcolm tucker dialogue. i wouldnt want to.#but well the whole thing is a bit he wouldnt fucking say or do any of that#but again. i could see that clearly from the description and walked in eyes open#its good tho its given me a lot to think about at work.
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what some of the undertale fandom did with grillby fucking fascinates me like my god
#random thoughts#he has 2 (two) count em TWO lines#and a bunch of people were just like 'yeah lets just shove him and sans together thats fine'#which like? it's cute and he has a cool (ha!) character design but WHAT#but i do feel like it's a case of fans taking a male side character and a male main character and shoving them together#instead of engaging with a ship involving a woman#or however you phrase that idk#just like. toriel was RIGHT THERE.#what the fuck was that other ship. grillster? that was even funnier#gaster doesn't even have any canon dialogue IN GAME#they really took the two skinniest (?) men in the game and slammed em together like barbie dolls#there are so many well written women in undertale god. just any woman.#and so many canon relationships that are so engaging like jesus#alphys and undyne. bratty and catty. those two gay guards.#hell if you want two characters who don't engage with each other and are basically blank slates do burgerpants and nice cream guy#WHAT IS SO INTERESTING ABOUT THE FIRE MAN#is it the suit#ALSO WTF WAS UP WITH FUCKED UP SANSBY WEEK#i still have that tag blocked yall were being mean to sans for no reason#grillby is such a fucking nonentity he doesn't even have his own fandom wikipage#he is lumped in with the drunk bunny who. guess what. canonically flirts with sans and has more than two lines#match made in heaven i tells ya#listen im not gonna act like i dont also think grillby is hot#oh wait hold the fuck on someone's on the roof of the apartments across from me#what the fuck#i live on the second floor how tf did they get up therr
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the fun of having put out the "bj's moustache is gay culture" post while also headcanoning first and foremost that whatever bj is, it's not actually gay but something way funnier and more fucked up
#what im saying is that hawkeye is sometimes bj's wife but not in a gay way#it's the opposite in a way of how frank burns desires hawkeye carnally and is so mad about it being really gay#and that hawkeye is queer in a gender and a sexuality way that means he can slide into whatever mold someone else desires#and margaret is a transmasc who will give herself that crew cut when she's in her 60s#and everyone will mistake her for a lesbian but actually she's gay for men#but hawkeye can be a girl for her if he wants#bj and frank both represent the lie of the american dream but in different ways#(that is they both went to war on a promise about smthinsmthin american duty masculinity etc)#but while I'm absolutely on the frank is gay choo choo train#idk with bj it just seems a bit boring as a read to end it there imo#especially as it's generally agreed upon that his character was so broadly written#i prefer to play in that broadness personally but hey if u wanna tag that post as gay bj i get where that comes from#ilke yeah for sure the moustache is gay culture - 70s gay culture#also tbh to get serious for a sec it was very weird getting into the mash fandom while this whole thing was going on#and i think it kept me from getting totally into it from the first jump - lot of judgement on headcanons#lot of *this is all of fandoms opinion on xy thing and if you say something different you're wrong*#lot of treating headcanons and meta as serious discussion pieces rather than just... engaging with a piece of fiction#(this not about analysing outdated elements of the show am talking the character and not-so-serious meta)#all of this to say: pls dont be weird on this post they're called headcanons for a reason#it's 2pm and i am pulling an all-nighter to hit a deadline#we're feeling fragile gents
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if u see sasuke as anything other than completely whipped then ur wrong. uchihas canonically have their âpersonâ who is their closest friend, their weak spot, etc. sasuke spends the entire original series acknowledging his close bond with naruto and trying to get rid of it cuz he thinks it makes him weak. at the end of naruto, heâs like âman, i wanna dieâ and naruto says âNO, youâre going to live and help me rebuild konohaâ and sasuke is like âugh fine whateverâ and then spends all of boruto avoiding his family, running around saying âwhereâs narutoâ and then proceeding to have secret meetings with naruto in the woods and going to restaurants with him. sasuke is not the coldhearted bitch he wants u to believe he is
#i truly despise the marriage situation in boruto but theyâve also written sns in such a gay way still that iâm like . damn#they have to know what theyâre doing right#also healing from trauma means u stop pushing people away and then u get flooded with emotions for those people cuz youâve been repressing#them for so long#which is why sasuke is clingy af in boruto#obviously i wish their marriages didnât exist so this could be explored further but whatever <333#no h8 to ppl who ship naruhina or sasusaku i just think these men are gay#and sakura too for that matter#and i mean even if u ship sasusaku naruto is still canonically sasukeâs closest friend who he would do anything for#naruto#boruto#sasuke uchiha#sns#thoughts
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(giggles and kicks legs)
#listen i'm not saying that i support nor like it when e.izen threatens people#but... i'm not saying that i don't like it when he threatens people-#okay in my humble defense. e.izen is very handsome.#i always get a little flustered when he gets all serious sjdhwjshqb#i miss him so much. i know i talk about him a lot but i cannot resist his loserboy charm-#yeah sure he may be a scary and mean and rude pirate that punches things a lot#... but he's also silly and funny and is a really sweet boyfriend and gives soft kisses and head scratches#ash rambles đ#e.izen brainrot never ends#he may be a silly and old man Reaper pirate... but he's my silly Reaper pirate. and boy do i like old men#i just wish him a very kiss kiss! i just think he and his arsonist pirate gf should be together forever and kiss lots :)#his s/i is sooooo fun! she's a fire spirit and it shows- he likes having her in his arms since her body is so warm always#... becomes pretty unbearable on hot summer days though ajdhajsh she's a cuddly sleeper#no need for heater when you have ash around! also i think her arc about accepting herself as actually valuable to the crew + accepting and#learning that she can coexist with humans is pretty well written if i do say myself- an intriguing character. who is also an e.izen kisser!#i love you mr. reaper!#also z.aveid's theme is so good ajskahsb e.izen my love i adore your voice but.. good music...
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I will die on this hill
#cause the whole thing in Candide is he's arguing against Leibnitz who's saying it's the best of all possible worlds and that everything#that happens happens for an eventually good reason#and Voltaire's not just arguing that everything is terrible; for all that he's smarter than Pangloss Martin is still wrong about Cacambo#coming back.#and Martin's idea was that there's a Good god and a Bad god that control everything#but Candide (book not character) shows that things like the Lisbon earthquake or good men drowning simply don't have a reason; good or bad#things happen essentially randomly and there's no order to it#*but*#(and this is moving away from the absurdism point but I want to talk about it)#despite all the random uncontrollable things Candide faces there's also much that's manmade#and I've seen some interpretations of the book that seem to thing the ending is saying to just escape from the world and don't bother#with trying to change it but I don't think that's the point because first of all obviously Voltaire didn't think it was useless to try and#change things or he wouldn't have written the fucking book; and also Martin and Pangloss share the similarity of believing that#any attempt to better the world is pointless because Pangloss thinks it couldn't get any better and Martin. well. also thinks that but in a#negative way#and the way I see it the book is as much a critique of fatalism as it is of Leibnitz's optimism#and really those are one and the same; if this is the best world it means nothing can ever improve and we're stuck in this pile of shit#tldr; shit happens for no reason; ya can't fix it but at least you could make it a bit better for the people around you; and you might as#well enjoy some pistachios while you're doing it#guys i promise i do know how to write actual literary analysis and someday i'll post it#but it's easier to just rant in the tags for 5 minutes#also jacques and the old woman both fundamentally changed the story through being willing to help candide + pangloss/cunĂŠgonde
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btw, while I think we can all agree that her chapter contains quite a few...questionable elements, I'm glad Lucy Mancini exists in the universe of The Godfather because thanks to her there's one woman in this book who ends up in a materially better place than where she started unlike litterally all the others so we can at least appreciate that
#lucy mancini#i mean her husband kinda creep me out tbh but compared to all the other men in this franchise he is lowkey a saint#my girl really ended up rich af married to a (albeit slightly creepy) doctor who was crazy about her with a whole new pussy#i love that for her#also that scene when tom is like 'nooo don't kill yourself you could be so useful to the family' is legit one of the funniest part#like imagine waking up after trying to kill yourself and your ex's brother is there randomly trying to convince you to join the mafia..#this said...i really don't believe that mario puzo agreed with most of the things he made his characters do or says in this book#if anything it's pretty obvious that we're not supposed to agree with most of it#but the way lucy was written makes me believe that my man *genuinely* believed that women come from vaginal penetration alone#and if that's the case all i can say is i'm so so sorry mrs puzo
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I think a lot of what's currently informing my fellow white people curdling like milk and shitting their pants when asked to interrogate their relationship with rap is the way many people (especially well-meaning white people) still can't help but think of racism as something that you get accused of rather than something that influences the entire world in pernicious ways.
like, I think a lot of people currently posting the most cringe takes about rap right now would very much agree that Racism Is Bad and probably even acknowledge that rap has been and is still widely maligned and devalues for racist reasons.
but that last step, acknowledging that your personal tastes and interests are also influenced by systemic racism, is where a LOT of people stumble. it's very easy to assume that because you consider yourself against racism, then your tastes and interests cannot possibly be at all informed by racist. if you're a white American, that's simply extremely unlikely to be true.
speaking from personal experience, I had to Work to decenter whiteness in my media tastes. when I was like 19 I listened to a podcast where a white Jewish man talked about keeping a spreadsheet of the books he read to make sure he was reading a roughly equal number of men and women, and I started doing the same thing to track how many authors of color I was reading. at the time I took pride in my belief that I was reading diversely, but when the year ended I was shocked to discover that people of color had written barely a quarter of the books I'd read. I had been giving myself way too much credit while still unintentionally prioritizing white authors, because white authors were the ones I knew best. so I started making an extremely conscious effort to seek out books by authors of color, both fiction and nonfiction, that sounded like my kind of shit.
music was extremely similar. I grew up a little white girl in a very white city in a very white state; nobody was offering me an education in rap or r&b or soul or hip hop. as an young adult there were definitely some Black artists I liked, like Janelle MonĂĄe, but I had to take the initiative of seeking out more artists to find out who I fuck with. you're not going to like everybody, which is fine, but are you even giving anyone a chance? are you even looking?
racism has roots everywhere, bro. it's not enough to just acknowledge it, you have to actively get digging.
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Mr. and Mrs. Barnes
Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?
Word Count: Over 3k
Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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Bucky didnât bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.
At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.
Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didnât just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.
He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didnât want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.
If he had a glass in his hand it wouldâve shattered.
Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. âGet over here,â he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.
As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought heâd receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. âWould you please excuse me?â You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the manâs grip. âMy husband is waiting for me.â
Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldnât believe some days that you wanted forever with him. âI was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,â he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.
The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. âAs if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,â you teased.
âBecause he has no right to touch you,â he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. âI know youâre better with people than I am, which is why youâre the one who has to socialize and Iâm sorry for that. But you also said Iâm not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.â
He swore he didnât have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.
You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. âYou do know I can break his fingers myself, right?â
He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. âI know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,â he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. âBut I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.â
You rang a finger along his bowtie. âWe all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,â you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. âIn a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.â
He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. âOf course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that weâre a happily married and loyal couple.â His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. âOr maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.â
âSneak away?â You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. âWhatever for?â
âYou know what for. Itâll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.â Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. âCâmon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.â
He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasnât able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. âThis gala is boring,â you agreed carefully.
âThen letâs make it exciting.â His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. âYou made me come to this thing. Donât I deserve something for showing up and behaving?â
âI haven't made you come yet.â His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. âAnd I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.â
He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. âAnd how exactly do you plan to do that?â He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.
âMy plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,â you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. âBut if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And Iâll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.â
A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasnât enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.
âYou drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,â he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.
âThe feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.â You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. âI need you.â
Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.
You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didnât stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.
He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. âFuck,â he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. âYou feel that? Thatâs what you do to me.â
With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. âWait until you feel how wet I am,â you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.
His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. âStill get wet for me?â He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how heâd never harm you with it.
âHave you seen yourself? One look from you and Iâm soaked.â Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. âAnd youâre my husband. That craving for you isnât going away.â
He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasnât a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.
Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. âFuck,â he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.
âThereâs a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,â you told him, smiling over your shoulder. âI may have scoped out the place in case this happened.â
He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. âI fucking love you,â he exhaled.
Walking with an aching hard-on wasnât easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.
âIâm disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,â you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. âYou didnât mention anything about me not wearing any panties.â
His cock was ready to burst from his pants. âBecause that fucking clown out there interupted me,â he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. âYou trust me?â
It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.
âAlways,â you said, an ache in your voice that he couldnât resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. âAnd you trust me?â
It wasnât just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. âWith everything in me,â he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. âIâll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.â
Once you were home, heâd slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. Heâd draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought heâd burn if he didnât have you.
You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldnât fall under the tempting spell of your body? âIâm ready for you.â Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. âI mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.â
âMy needy little wife,â he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.
âMy needy husband,â you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.
âWhat kind of man isnât needy for his wife?â He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least heâd have you to burn with. âFuck, your body was made for my cock.â
Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. âMy pussy was made for you, so ruin it.â
He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.
I love you.
âI love you, too, Bucky,â you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. âI love you, too.â
His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. âYou love me?â He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.
You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. âSo much,â you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days heâd need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. âIâm yours.â
âIâm not gonna last,â he warned. He couldnât with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.
âNeither amâŚâ Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.
âThere you go. Good girl,â he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. âFuckâŚâ
Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. âWorth every second of being here,â he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. âClean them off for me, baby,â he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.
Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that heâd fuck you all over again if he didnât get completely dressed. It didnât stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.
And it didnât stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.
âNow.â You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. âHow do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?â
âI donât,â he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. âI think itâs time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised Iâd worship you, remember?â
You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. âOn one condition.â
He titled his head. âWhatâs that?â
A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, âYou put a baby in me tonight.â
So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! â¤ď¸
Masterlist â Bucky Barnes Masterlist â Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#james buchanan barnes#sebastian stan#the winter soldier#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#husband!bucky barnes#sebastian stan x reader#bucky fanfic#x reader#james bucky barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#mr. and mrs. barnes
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