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wosofutbolfan · 2 months ago

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Remember, Remember

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

Sometimes being in a relationship with someone from a different culture can be hard, but so worth it.

3rd part in the Explorer! Verse. Pt 1 and Pt 2 can be found here.

Fluff. 10k.

We're officially in October and the leaves are crunchy so we're here for the Autumnal vibes. Again, this is a complete vanity piece, and may only make sense to those Brits out there but should be readable to everyone. For those who don't know what Bonfire Night is, good ol' wiki can help, here.

People wanted more of the team involved so this is my attempt at that!

I'm trying to get into my short fluff era but here we are 10k words later. Honestly, those people who can write short, snappy pieces, take a bow.

3rd part in the Explorer! Verse. Pt 1 and Pt 2 can be found here. Again, all can be read alone but are better together.

For those interested, this is the song playing in my head when I wrote this. Did I mention my dreadful taste in music? James Blunt is king.

You threw another log on the fire and with a sigh, moved back and settled more deeply into the rattan furniture you were sitting on. You lay your head back and take in the stars scattered on a blanket of darkness above you, smoke plume rising gently and disappearing into the inky abyss.

With the crackle of the fire being the only soundtrack to your evening, you noted the changing of the season in the crunching of the leaves on the patio, and the lack of cicadas chirping which had become the soundtrack to your new life in Barna.

It had been a few months since your accident.

You called it an accident.

Alexia called it an inevitability.

She hadn’t quite shook off her anger whenever reminded of what happened. She would turn quiet and mutter in fast-catalan to herself, something you learnt she would only do if she was really annoyed and didn’t want you to understand her; “neu estúpida, que fins i tot necessita veure tanta neu de totes maneres”.

But you had learnt the best thing to do in these situations would be to bundle her into your chest and give her your previously injured hand which she seemed to find comfort in massaging, as though reminding herself that there was blood running through the veins.

You’d apologise, and you’d thank her over and over again.

You knew she was never angry, she was scared.

But, you’d both worked through her fear and your trauma, you’d mended physically and mentally. Both going to therapy, surprisingly, after Alexia has insisted on it.

The usually stern captain was a massive advocate of the counseling, finding it helped her during her injuries and time away from the pitch.

You needed more convincing, talking to strangers about feelings did not come naturally to your keep calm and carry on attitude.

You were much more inclined to put on Paddington 2, lay on Alexia's lap whilst she played with your hair and pretended that she didn't know you were crying.

But after one-too-many nights waking up with a start after feeling trapped by your blankets, or on one bad occasion, shoving your girlfriend out of bed when her arm slung across your stomach had felt like a vice suffocating you, you had agreed.

For her.

You’d do anything for her.

You knew Alexia was relieved, with the shadows disappearing from your eyes. She told you that you had your spark back.

You think she was just happy she didn’t have to keep being the small spoon.

She did miss Paddington 2 though. She loved that damn bear.

You both found your rhythm. And you settled into domesticity that you never expected to adore so much until you met the blonde and you know… almost died.

Alexia looked at you every day like she couldn’t believe you were standing in her kitchen, or settled onto her couch when she returned from training.

It melted your heart every time that look was directed your way, and it tugged on your heart strings when you imagined her coming home to an empty house when you were on an expedition, worried about if you were dead or alive.

You swore to yourself that you would never let that image become a reality again.

But.

You had itchy feet. Naturally. You hadn’t changed that fundamentally as a person, and you knew a jobless, housewife in a high-rise city centre apartment you were not.

So, one day, you had sat Alexia down and held her hands in yours, and told her you needed a job.

“You do not need a job mi amor! I look after us, and you stay safe, I like it. me gusta cuidarte.” she’d proudly exclaimed, practically puffing her chest out like a caveman. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her.

“Of course I need a job, love. I am not making a life of walking around Barna, watching football games and being a beach bum.”

“I like your beach bum.” she’d retorted, childishly whilst you swatted her wandering hands.

“I know you do bebe…” you’d straddled her lap then and looped your hands around her neck, playing with her baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

You knew she loved that.

That was confirmed as her eyes fluttered closed at your ministrations. “But I want to build a life here and I know what I want to do…”

“Yes Mi Amor, anything you like, I will help you. I have contacts. I will support you in what you chose.” she’d giddily replied, seemingly doing a 180 on your career decisions once she realised it was a part of you cementing a life in Spain.

“Well you know, I’m kinda really good at what I do…” you saw her face drop slightly, though she quickly recovered, “well… what I did… you know. And I still love it, that will never change even after… everything…” you felt her squeeze your waist tighter at that. “but my skills outdoors, survival, foraging, working knots…”

Well.

She couldn’t deny that. - you had accidentally become barca’s unofficial shoelace captain after you’d tied Mapis boots once for her when she’d dislocated her thumb, and they had to be cut off. Suddenly you had a whole teamload of girls queuing up for your services, headed by your girlfriend.

She was the only one who got a kiss on the knee as you finished up though.

Alexia immediately declared it a pre-match requirement.

“Si?” she asked, somewhat desperately.

“So I am thinking. I would like to join the British Army.”

A breath of silence, a beat, maybe not even more than 3 seconds until…

“Si crees que voy a aceptar que te unas al puto ejército, estás literalmente loco!, No, No, Absolutely not.” she was up now, you tossed aside as she started pacing… whilst you were on the couch…

Laughing your arse off.

“Que. What is so funny tu idiota?” she took a pause in her pacing, her stern face directed directly at you, hands raised in despair.

“I’m only joking Ale!” you giggled to yourself, wiping tears from your eyes. “Come get back here you big oaf.” you dragged her back into your embrace.

“You are not funny.” You could have camped on that bottom lip as she pouted.

“I am a little funny.” you'd bantered, showing a measurement of how funny you thought you were with your forefinger and thumb, which she pushed together with a huff.

But you noticed that she didn't let go of your hand.

Softie.

“Ok not funny my love I’m sorry. No, never the army. I do not want danger. Or travel for months at a time. That part of my life is over.”

“sí, lo es” she’d mumbled.

“But, I do still have the contact urge to be outdoors. To share what I know. To show people the world.” you spoke with so much passion that she couldn’t help but nod. It was that same spark that she fell in love with.

“So, I have spoken to Mario…”

A smile appeared on her face. God. She loved that guy. He was a lovable rogue and she loved when he and his tribe of kids would join you at games. Sometimes she’d secretly watch you from the tunnel play with them whilst you all waited for the game to start. It made her heart flutter as they clambered all over you.

“... and he’s up for it too. If we go into business together. Guided tours and expeditions. Like how we met. But permanently. It would be based here, in Spain, and obviously I would be travelling but no more than a week or two at a time, and it would all be very low level and safe. Nothing big…. But if it makes you un…”

You were abruptly stopped in your rambling by her lips on yours.

“You don’t have to ask my permission mi amor. But I support you. It sounds fantastic. Perfecta para ti.”

You knew she’d support you but you still felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“... but not. Like… exactly like the trip we met on. No? No falling in love with other women, si?”

You’d burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of your girlfriend at that. “No, my love, never.” you’d muttered into her lips.

As you sit now, in your tree-lined garden on the southern edge of the Montseratt national park, only a short commute from estadi johan cryuff, you couldn’t really imagine a more perfect life.

You’d moved away from the city not long after you’d built your business. Turns out alot of people want a tour that a record-breaking explorer was running, and that's how Christopher Colum-Tours became a massive success.

You were booked for years in advance.

Mostly because you made sure you took so few, but well paying jobs. You thought the name was hilarious, when Alexia didn’t you were sure it was lost in translation.

She assured you it was not.

You’d mentioned it in passing to her that you needed more space to store all of your kit, but you didn’t expect her eyes to light up and to wake up the next day with 20 different house viewings booked.

She was literally buzzing with excitement, dragging you around Spanish villas on the edges of Barcelona, pointing out coving and brickwork. You'd never been fancy, you didn't care.

Until you walked into the last house on the list. And you knew you would build your life there.

It was on the southern edge of the national park, more modest than the others you had seen but views from the master balcony were endless and beautiful. It was surrounded by forest and its garden wasn’t as sculpted as you’d gotten used to in these multi million villas.

It was a wild garden with a natural-styled pool and a built-in fire pit.

It blended into the landscape it was built within.

Alexia has found you on the balcony, giddy about beams and authentic features, and all it had taken was one look in her eyes before she was squealing with glee “It's this one isn’t it amor!”.

Alexia had tried to pay outright cash. But you had refused. You both went on the mortgage and you loved that, that piece of paper connected you.

When you tried to explain that to her she’d lovingly rolled her eyes, “only you would see the good side to tens of hundreds of euros worth of debt and interest, Mi Amor.”

But you knew that meant she agreed. And she loved you.

So no, you couldn’t really understand the melancholy that was settling over you at the moment.

You’d just returned from a trip to England for your brother's birthday. Even though you now lived in Spain you’d been able to go to more family events than ever before, with your lack of travelling the world.

You made the journey across every few weeks, usually when Alexia was away with a game or the national team. And you’d loved being more dependable to your family, with your nieces and nephews, being a part of their growing up.

Maybe that's why you are a bit sad now. It's November 3rd. The Spanish air was crisp but you couldn’t see your breath in the air like you could in England. The smell was all forest and fresh air. The days are still bright. There wasn’t a lingering fog in the evenings, or the smell of burning sulphur with the symphony of rogue fireworks being set off until the early hours.

Because this week was your favourite week growing up.

Mischief week, the firemen who visited your school had called it.

The week between Halloween and Bonfire night when kids lost their minds, hyped up on sweets and adrenaline. Bonfire displays all around your village and fireworks bursting the sky into life. You’d go to the cricket club display every year, warmed by the bonfire and cider. You’d eat toffee apples and hotpot. You’d spend the rest of the week sitting in your living room with the lights off watching the sky light up.

Usually you didn’t even notice what you were missing out on. But you had a home now. And you felt a little sad to be missing out on the festivities that your family group chat was organising.

But Alexia had just returned from National Camp. And she was always a bit down when she returned. Even if she pretended not to be. So you wouldn’t have delayed your return to Spain for all of the world.

You’d picked her up from the airport in your battered truck that she pretended she hated, spent a cosy evening together sharing food and soft kisses.

She’d gone to wash the plane off her whilst you wandered to your favourite part of the house and built a fire.

You tried to not drown in your own melancholy as you stared skywards. You heard the sliding of the patio door and you didn’t need to open your eyes to imagine your girlfriend making her way out to you. Cup of tea in one hand and ginger tea in the other. Scuttling barefoot with a blanket draped over her head adorably, muttering about you insisting on being outside.

And when you felt a warm mug pressed into your hands you knew your image had been correct, you couldn’t hide your shy smile as you felt a kiss being dropped to your neck as she settled on the other side of the garden furniture, legs draped into your lap. You enjoyed the warmth of her legs as you continued to look skyward.

You didn’t realise how much time had passed until you felt Alexia sit up next to you and stroke your hair behind your ear.

“¿Qué pasa mi amor?” she’d whispered into the silence of the evening. You turned your head towards her, “Nothing, love, sorry I was just in my own world for a second there.” you smiled at her, reassuringly.

“en tu propio mundo…” she muttered to herself, struggling for a moment with the translation. “Ah, well. I thought so, usually I don't need to even think it before you’re massaging my knee, I was practically kicking you there carino and nothing.” she’d laughed lightly, as you flicked her playfully on the nose, whilst still moving your spare hand under the blanket and digging into the flesh of her calf, glad she’d asked for what she wanted.

“Let me in ti mundo, mi amor. What's on your mind.” she asked, lovingly, whilst laying back down, suppressing a groan as your hands manipulated the tissue around her knee cap, digging into the tightness that you found there with practised ease.

“Nada, soy buena.” you’d replied, purposefully timing your reply with a particularly satisfying knead just under her kneecap, making the beautiful blonde groan loudly, “Shhh, Ale. You don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

She lightly kicked out at you at your teasing comment, rolling her eyes, “We don’t have any neighbours idiota, unless you count that molesta goat that you insist on feeding when he turns up in the garden.”

“His name is Billy and he’s my friend. You keep Billy out of this.” you allow a beat of silence, “And he’s not a goat he’s a mountain goat, he’s manly, don’t upset him…” you raise your voice “Billy if you’re listening ignore her she’s being mean!... Hey! Ale stop kicking me! I am not a ball.”

“You're trying to distract me.” she says, plainly. “What are you thinking?”, the way her eyes look at you with so much love stops any lie that was on the tip of your tongue.

“It’s silly…” another huff from the side of you, “I’m just missing home a little but thats all.” you admit, and her face drops. “No, not home, sorry, England. Home is here with you. Obviously.” you panic, you don’t want to upset her, Alexia is home.

You don’t know what's come over you but you can’t stop speaking,

“It’s just this time of year, it's my favourite time of year that's all. I never missed it when I was away, I didn’t have time to. But now I feel so at home here. With you. That it just feels a bit weird to not be doing what I did growing up and if we had kid…” you stop yourself, eyes widening.

Her smile is breathtaking. Her eyes light up and it's all teeth. But she gives you an out.

“And what would you usually be doing at this time of year, mi amor?” she asks,

“You know… Remember, Remember, the 5th of November…” you trail off, speaking in that rhythmic way British school kids are taught. Her blank expression makes you continue “...gunpowder, treason and plot. No? Really? I’m sure I was taught he was Spanish.”

“Amor, you are speaking in riddles. Help me here.” she asks, with a laugh teasing her lips.

“It's Bonfire Night, Guy Fawkes Night, Fireworks Night… whatever you call it.”

“I think Amor, we call it a Thursday Night.”

“Oh. Yeah, no of course. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologising to me? Tell me about it. Tell me what you’d be doing.” she asks, so genuinely that it cracks your heart wide open.

So you do, you tell her.

You tell her all about what you were taught in school. About Guido and his gang of conspirators, about parliament, about gunpowder and about the plan to blow up the King. You tell her about hanging, drawing and quartering, laughing at her squeamishness. You feel yourself getting giddy as you wrack the corners of your brain trying to remember all of the story you were brought up on.

You tell her about penny for a guy, about kids sitting outside shops with their effigies for pennies, you tell her about your dad setting off fireworks in your street, almost blowing himself up, and then your mum insisting you go only to the official bonfire at the cricket club from that year onwards and watch the effigy being burnt on the enormous fire.

Alexia listened with rapt attention, and as you stopped for breath she spoke; “esperar, esperar, so let me get this correcta. Some guy 500 years ago tried to blow up cortes generales, so they graphically and publicly murdered him… and you celebrate that, as a country every year, by… kids begging and burning him on a fire you all go stand around?... In November?”

“Si.” you reply, with a smile and a nod, eyes moving back skywards.

“Estás todo loco” she laughs.

And you suppose it is. A bit mad, when you think about it really. But you were feeling a bit sensitive and a bit… mocked?

You felt like how you feel when someone would name-call your brother on the playground. You can do that. He’s your brother. But someone else can’t. Because that's your brother.

Alexia can’t mock your traditions. They’re yours. God knows you’d bit your lip throughout all of hers. I mean. If you could get through the explanation of a literal model of a pooping Alexia on your Nativity last year you felt like maybe she would get this. You even graciously accepted your own Canager from Eli with a smile.

You took a moment, a deep breath, you knew you were being sensitive, out of character.

You knew usually you’d join in with her laughter, maybe tickle her and have a fake argument about it just as an excuse to make up. But you weren’t really feeling it today.

“Well, let’s agree to disagree, yeah?” you turned and smiled, you moved her trouser leg back down under the blanket, gave her knee a pat and moved her legs off you to stand. Whilst she looked up at you in bewilderment, with wide, curious eyes.

“I’m gonna get to bed love, I’m really tired all of a sudden, going to get my head down before I wake myself up again, you okay sorting the fire and locking up?”

She nodded, lost for words for a moment, practically having whiplash at the mood swing. You didn’t let Alexia lock up, or sort the fire. They’re your jobs. Always have been. Keeping you both safe. So she knew you were upset.

“Amo…” she started but she heard the patio door slide closed and moved to throw some sand onto the fire. She noticed your mug of tea on the arm of the sofa where you’d been sitting.

And when she saw that it was still half full she knew.

She’d fucked up.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“....and then she said, estemos de acuerdo en no estar de acuerdo, and went to bed! And Mapi. She left her tea!” Alexia explained, desperately to her best friend, the next morning at training.

“...It’s only tea Ale.” Mapi tried to reassure her, “It means nothing amiga I am sure.”

“No, you don’t understand. And she was asleep when I went to bed and it wasn't even 10 minutes later. And then this morning, she was still asleep. She’s never still asleep. You know her Maps, she's up with the sun and…” the midfielder lowered her voice further,

“she always makes me a coffee with the cute foam heart and she didn’t but maybe she’s just tired, I thought, but then I looked and I saw she must have been up that morning because there was food out in the garden for that stupid goat… so was she pretending to be asleep to not speak with me?”

Alexia's voice got more and more panicked as she rambled on.

Mapis' heart melted for her friend, the panic in her face reminded her of the Ale who used to pace the changing rooms with her phone cemented to her hand waiting for word from you. Of the Alexia who missed games because she made herself sick with worry that you were dead somewhere. She hadn’t seen this Ale for a while. She needed to help.

“Keira! Come here!” Mapi shouted over to the red haired midfielder.

“Mapi! Shh. Don’t! What are you doing!” Alexia hissed,

“I think this is a British problem, Ale, we need an expert.”

“Well, why shout across the room? Lucy is standing right there.” Alexia pointed to the defender who was currently pretending her shin pads were lightsabers.

“Lucy thinks she’s Spanish.”

Alexia hummed.

Fair point.

“What's up guys? Skip? Why do you have that face on?”

“Say the thing Capi. You know… the spell thing.” Mapi painfully nudged her captain in the ribs… “Que?... Oh…. Remember Remember the 5th of November....”

“Gunpowder, treason and plot, I see no reason, why gunpowder treason, should ever be forgot. Yeah? Why are we doing nursery rhymes” Keria recited, without a pause. Looking at them both, curiously.

“See it is a thing!” Alexia exclaimed, hitting Mapi over the head, “tell her what happened Capi.” Mapi asked, as Keira settled between the two.

As her story came to a close Alexia began to finish up… “and then she said we should ‘agree to disagree’” at this Keria winced but gestured for her skipper to carry on “...and then she went to bed but didn’t finish her tea.” Keira audibly groaned at that, moving to grab the taller girl's shoulder.

“Sorry Skip, In British ‘agree to disagree’ means, ‘I’m really upset but I don’t want to talk about it’ and well… I think it's a crime to leave a cup of tea. She must have really wanted to get out of there.”

“But why! I don’t know what I did!” the blonde groans into her hands.

“We’ll figure it out, amiga” Mapi reassured her, rubbing her back sympathetically.

“Erm…” Keria looked up, unsure.

“What?” Alexia's head shot up, looking at her teammate.

“I don’t want to talk out of turn Skip.. but…”

“No, go on, help me, please. What did I do?” Alexia asks, desperately.

“You can be... Well... You can all be… a bit. Catalan?”

“Que?!” the captain exclaimed, “What does that mean? I am Catalan!”

“No, No I know. And it's not a bad thing. But. You know, there's a lot. A lot to remember, Saint Jordi, all the pan con tomate…the loud dinners, the touching, the human towers… the fire-devil thing. And it's great! I love it! I respect it, And I know she does too but…”

“But…?” Mapi and Alexia ask together, looking everything like school children at a lesson, pencils poised.

“But. And I am just guessing here…”

“Speak Keira or I will make you run laps.” the captain threatens.

“Maybe, you could… you know… try a bit… and I mean… a little bit. With some English things?” she finishes her sentence as a question, nervous to criticise her well-respected captain in any way.

“What do you mean! I do! I respect her! And all her things!”

“I know it's not on purpose Ale. But how would you feel if she said Sainte Jordi was silly.”

“It’s not silly! It's special, Mi Papi used to get me and Alba a rose every year and I still remember it now. I love doing it every year. It makes me feel… oh.”

“Yeah. And you know, me and Lucy come round for Sunday roast every month and you always go out.” she’d started now so she supposed, in-for a penny in for a pound, “and when she put an orange in your stocking at Christmas you laughed and told her it was a bad football and kicked it at her.”

Alexia looks at her teammate, cluelessly, whilst Mapi sniggers behind her hand,

“Alexia, It’s an English thing. Oranges don’t grow in England. They used to be a luxury so people would give them at Christmas to people they love. Like a sign of sharing?...and on pancake day you told her it went against your diet plan…”

“Didn't she literally fell a tree last year to make you your own Caga Tio? She asked me where Onas was from, I said Amazon and I'm fairly sure she thought I meant the rainforest…” Lucy joined in on the salt being rubbed into the enormous wound party that Alexia didn't even know she was hosting.

“Okay, Okay, I get it.” The captain said. Raising her hand. She felt terrible. She did go out on what she’d dubbed ‘English-Night’ when Keira, Lucy and sometimes Ona would invade her kitchen and cook weird food and watch English TV shows.

But she thought you'd want to enjoy your evening in English without her. And the pancake thing… well. It did go against her diet plan.

You never said it was a tradition.

She would have made an exception.

She'd do anything for you.

You happily went along with all of her things, she had never even told you about Caga Tio, you'd found out on your own and done such an incredibly sweet thing that Alexia had cried and slept with it next to her side of the bed for a week.

Not that she'd tell her teammates that.

She hadn’t realised you’d been trying to share your traditions with her and she’d been closing it down.

“Why didn’t she say anything?” Alexia asks helplessly,

“Because she loves you, and she doesn’t care as long as you’re happy I suppose… and also… because she’s English.”

This made her roll her eyes in frustration.

She felt ignorant.

She would fix this.

“Mapi, I need your help.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’d managed to shake off your little moodswing by the early afternoon.

You’d spent the morning answering a few work emails and planning a few new routes. As you set off for your run you felt noticeably brighter, calculating that if you did a bit of a longer run than usual then Alexia should be back home when you returned.

Sometimes you did that on purpose, and went on a longer run so she would be home when you got back. Like when you go to the toilet in a restaurant and you're excited when your meal is at the table when you return.

A little treat for yourself.

God you had it bad.

You really wanted to spend time with your girlfriend, you felt a little bad about your moodiness and you wanted to make it up to her.

So when you got home from your trail run to a driveway with just your truck in it you tried to keep the sadness down. Training must have gone on this afternoon, sometimes that happened.

By the time early evening rolled around, you got a bit concerned, just as you picked up your phone it vibrates in your hand.

sorry Mi Amor, training turned into watching film, I will eat with Mapi at the canteen, see you soon, love you, miss you xx

You let out a little huff of annoyance to yourself. It's not Alexia's fault that you wasted your time together yesterday being moody. It's not her fault she's stuck at work.

At least her version of being stuck at work isn't being trapped under a mountain of snow and slowly dying.

Your little internal monologue of darkness makes you chuckle to yourself but your attention is grabbed by a knock on the front door.

“Hola Chica!!!”

You suddenly have a facefull of hair and are pulled into the bosom of a very loud and excitable Alba Putellas.

“Hi Alba! What are you doing here?” you ask, trying to not be rude but also wondering what has dragged the famously city-slicking younger Putellas out into the sticks.

“Que? Can a girl not come and spend the evening with their future cuñada? What's with the million questions hermana!” she blusters past you and into the entryway, leaving you standing with your mouth hanging open at the door as she settles into your sofa.

“... I asked one question” you mumbled to no one as you closed the door with the tornado now inside your home.

You explained that Ale was stuck at work, but Alba dismissed your apologies with a flick of her hand. “I'm not here for her, I’ve spent too much time with her, I think we should spend the evening together. Hermana to future Hermana.”

“Erm… sure.” You got on well with Alba. You got on well with all of Ales' family. They;d welcomed you as one of their own immediately. Eli had taken a vested interest in “getting you back up to strength” after your accident. That mainly consisted of not letting you leave the dinner table until eating 3 full plates of paella.

Usually though, Alba could be found in the bars of Barna, not in your living room, and you had a feeling that she knew Alexia was stuck at work. Which meant that Ale had sent her to spend the evening with you. And you hadn’t gotten away with your melancholy without her notice yesterday like you hoped you had.

Still, the thought of her sending her sister to keep you company warmed your heart.

Hours later your stomach hurt from laughing so much, and you felt ill with the amount of food you’d consumed. You and Alba had spent the evening watching telenovelas and cackling at the erratic storylines. Alba would insist every character was gay and you would nearly wet yourself with laughter when in 4 episodes she was proven right.

It's late when you hear the door slam in the hallway, you glance up at the clock and see its later than you even imagined.

“Hola cariño!” Alexia yells from the hall, and you can hear her shoes being kicked off and bag being shoved into the hall cupboard.

“Hola, my love!” Alba mocks back, voice high pitched and sounding resolutely nothing like yours.

You shove her by her shoulder as you rise to greet your girlfriend.

“Hola, my love.” you repeat as you greet her, settling into her open arms and nuzzling into her neck dropping a kiss against her warm skin you find there.

You take a deep breath of the taller woman. “Ale… why do you smell like… onions?” you ask, curiously.

“Vale, vale, I am going to bed before the show starts.” Alba interrupts as Alexia separates herself from you in order to reach across and slap her sister's head.

“Oh, Si? Si Alba, of course you can stay over. Thank you for asking.” she shouts sarcastically at her sisters retreating from. Grumbling to herself as she turns back to her.

“Oh behave you big grump you love it when she stays over.” you whisper, falling into her arms again, settling into her warmth. “Long day?”

You feel the tension leave her body now she's home. “Si… we got lots done though,”

“Good. Feel ready for the weekend then?” you ask, she had a game on Saturday and you know she preferred to be over prepared.

“The weekend?”

“Si, the game? Seville?” you ask, with a laugh to your voice. She must be tired.

“Oh, si, sorry, of course. I am tired mi amor. Yes. I feel ready.” she replies, moving to face you more closely, large hand cupping your cheek and dropping a quick kiss to your lips.

She moves away but you aren’t finished. You've had a long day of missing your girlfriend. And you pull her closer and deepen the kiss, moulding your lips to hers and groaning when she accepts your tongue in her mouth. As you break apart for breath you hear her mutter a little ‘wow’, which melts your heart.

Seriously, only your world famous, drop dead gorgeous, professional footballing girlfriend can get so worked up over some heavy petting.

It's her turn to pull your lips back together and you enjoy swapping sweet kisses before you pull apart… “Al…” she's moved down to your neck… “Ale… why do you taste like… pepper?”

“Huh?” you can’t see her face as she continues to press kisses down your neck. “Don’t know what you’re talking about amor.” she seems to have decided she's finished with your neck for now as she takes a step back.

“I better go wash the day off me. Meet you in bed?” she asks, and who are you to refuse as you nod your agreement and start to tidy the living room as she leaves for upstairs.

“Hey?” you look up and she's popped her head back into the living room, “I missed you today.” she says, simply. Cheeky smile on her face.

Alexia was the most intelligent and complex woman you knew. But sometimes her ability to be so simple was the thing that made you fall so deeply in love with her. She missed you, so she told you.

“I missed you too, love.” you reply, softly.

She smiles satisfied, and moves from the doorway again. For 3 seconds until she reappears.

“Don’t go to sleep til I’m there por favor, I want to fall asleep together.” you feel your blush start to creep up your neck and open your mouth to reply before,

“Ay dios mio, perdedora! It's a shower, you aren’t going to drown. How do either of you get anything done!” Alba shouts from the top of the stairs, and your girlfriend's head quickly disappears again, before you hear a scream and the thunder of her scaling the stairs…

“vuelve aquí diablo!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel as you waited for your girlfriend outside of the training buildings. It wasn’t usual but she’d asked you to pick her up that morning.

As you’d passed her her morning coffee (foam art included), she’d taken a moment longer than usual giving you a soft morning kiss and breathing you in before she asked you to keep the afternoon free.

“I want to take you on a date, Mi Amor.” she’d mumbled, cutely, “Alba will take me back into the city, then you can pick me up after your session at the school, dress warm.”

“I haven’t said yes yet!” you’d teased, with a roll of your eyes, “and hey, what they say is true, el romance esta muerto! I am picking you up for a date you asked me on! Tut. Ale. You used to be suave.”

“soy muy suave.” she’d confidently replied. “You’ll see on our date… that you’re picking me up for”.

A cheeky smile and a pat on the bum later she’d chased Alba out of the house, and suddenly you felt like you were watching the vision that Eli had grown old too.

Two bickering Putellas sisters acting like teenagers on their way to the school bus, hitting each other and Alba chasing Alexia down the drive after one kick too many.

So, you’d done as you were told and after your talk with 28 school kids about basic survival skills here you find yourself patiently waiting for your girlfriend.

The door to the training facility opened and you were surprised to see Alexia emerge bundled up in far too many layers and knit hat cutely adorned on her head. She really was adverse to the cold. Usually she’d be the last to leave training, insisting on a team talk or taking extra free kicks, but she searched the car park eagerly and eyes lit up as she took you in in your beat up old blue pickup truck.

The next surprise she gave you was when she didn’t hurry to the passenger seat, instead making her way to your window and, when you didn’t move, knocking on it with a rap of her knuckles. You roll the window down with a quick of your eyebrow.

“Can I help you señora?” you ask, “Si, mover… por favour. I am driving.”

The absurdity of her comment makes you bark out a laugh, but you do as your told,

“Ale, you hate my truck.”

“I have never said that.”

“Yes you have. One million times. ‘Mi Amor, your truck brings our house price down.’...’Amor, your truck is warming the planet. I thought you liked trees.’...”Amor, your truck is so loud that I think a dinosaur is coming up the driveway…” you imitate, crudely but with a gentle laugh.

She just fixes you with a stern eye as she turns the key, a large grinding sound coming from the engine.

“In gear please Ale!”..."Ah, Si.” followed by the successful roar of the engine.

“Remember love, she doesn't have any heated seats, we listen to my Beatles CD cause its stuck in the player, and the gearbox is a little worn so please… be gentle”

“Weird, usually you aren’t asking me to be gentle.” she dryly replies, eyebrow arched and make you blush. She moves her hand to your thigh and you take it in both of yours as she asks about the school you spoke in, she listens with rapt attention and you bask in the way her eyes light up when she tells you about how Jana finally mastered a trick she’d been working on.

You’d gotten so lost in conversation and checking out your hot girlfriend that you’d forgotten to check your destination until you felt the truck come to a halt.

As you looked around you saw you were in a small car park, a familiar style building imposing in front of you.

A stadium.

You can’t help but be a little disappointed, if Ale’s idea of date night had transformed into football games then you may as well start just going to training with her to keep your romantic life alive.

“Oh. Lovely.” you’d hoped you’d infused as much enthusiasm into your tone as you could. Just happy to spend time with the blonde. “Who’s playing?”

“Barca.” she’d replied, getting out of the car and hurrying to your door, all the while holding her hand up as she hurried past the bonnet indicating to you that she wanted to open it.

She’d taken your hand in her large one and started to walk towards the stadium, you looked around and took in a few people milling about, some with unrecognisable kit on.

You don’t know if a temporary deafness had taken over your girlfriend but she ignored you as she pulled you towards the turnstiles. It was a much smaller stadium than your girlfriend usually played at, and it was quick to get into the grounds.

“Ah, gran admirador?” the steward asked, as he pointed at your trusty blaugrana laces, and you just smile and nod, no idea what's going on.

As you looked up you were at pitch level and you saw a familiar sight of… ‘H’ shaped sticks? You almost broke your own neck at the speed at which you spun to look at your girlfriend who was staring at you with a Cheshire cat grin splitting her face.

“We’re here to watch Rugby!” she practically cheers, clearly very happy with herself.

You’d always used it as a weapon to tease your football-obsessed captain-girlfriend with, that you had been brought up on Rugby. Your brother played and you’d spend weekends down at the Rugby Club cheering on at the side lines. Your dad followed the town team religiously and you’d been dragged down to London more than once for cup finals.

As your world got bigger your love for the game diminished but the familiar smell of tiger balm and clack of metal studs always managed to make you feel 9 again down at the local rugby club.

You felt a childlike giddiness erupt from your stomach as you took in your glowing girlfriend. “Ale, this is… this is…” you feel a bit emotional as you struggle to get your words out, your girlfriend saves you.

“Vamos! Let's go find the best place to watch!” Alexia drags you into the small stands which are sparsely occupied.

“I didn’t even know Barcelona had a rugby team…” you say as you take your seat,

“Si, they do. They were promoted in 2006 but have been struggling since… they are currently 4th in the league though and today they’re playing 3rd so it…”

You interrupt your girlfriend by pressing a kiss to her lips, unable to stop your affection as you realise how much she had researched for you. “Te amo.” you mutter into her lips. You open your eyes before her and see her sit with her eyes closed for a moment, smile teasing on her lips, dazed.

“yo también te amo cariño” she replies, opening her eyes, “now come, watch. They're kicking off.”

You thoroughly enjoy yourself for the next 80 minutes. You realise that you have never watched a sports game with Alexia. Usually watching her or if she wasn’t playing she’d be sat on the bench with the team.

She’d usually be too invested and serious to have a fun time. But here, without being impacted by the outcome, nor really having any idea what was going on. Alexia was clearly having the time of her life.

She was giving off serious big dick energy, sitting in her plastic chair like she owned the stadium, legs spread wide and ankles hooked as she took in the pitch before her. Alexia wasn’t into PDA, however, here she pulled you close to her as though you were in your living room, clearly happy that she wouldn’t be bothered by anyone at a sparsely populated Rugby game.

“Amor, comer aqui. Explain this to me… “ she'd gestured to the pitch before her with one hand and pulled you closer with the other, draping both of your legs over one of hers so your legs dangled between hers, and you sat sideways facing her as she rested her arm around your shoulders.

You tried to ignore the feel of her strong thigh muscle underneath yours. Noticeable even though two sets of heavy clothing.

She started to play with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck as you tried to explain a scrum, mauls and drop kicks.

But you found yourself watching her side profile more than the game, her sharp jaw, the curve of her eyebrow. How cute she looked in her little barca beanie, eyes bright with excitement.

She gives your hair a little tug, “Mira el juego bebe…” she mutters, eyes still looking forward but a grin teasing her lips, “...I paid a good €8 for these tickets.”

You laugh and concentrate on the game before you, laughing at Alexia's commentary throughout, ‘you can use your hands! How is it even that hard!’ until a big hit where she would recoil into herself and muttered ‘nevermind’.

She would cheer every time someone kicked the ball and when you got into the game and shouted “Offside ref!!” she hushed you and insisted that it wasn’t, until you explained the offside rule was different and her mind nearly exploded.

It was a close game and you found yourself sucked in.

Becoming more animated until the final play of the game, Barca had possession and you couldn’t help it when you stood up and shouted, “stick it up your jumper… go on… RUN….ooooh!”, you looked down and saw Alexia looking up at you with wide eyes, a teasing glint in them, you grew flushed and sat down tentatively, “Amor, I have never seen you so… aggressive… I like it.” she decided, smirk on her lips.

Barca ended up losing but it didn’t take away any of the shine from the day, as you left the stadium you swung your hands between your bodies with excitement, “Ale, that was the best surprise date ever. Thank you.”

You noticed that a look you didn’t recognise flashed across her face as she opened the door for you, guiding you into the passenger seat with a kiss.

“Can we go to Casa Pepe for some dinner?” you ask, looking out of the window and taking in the darkened sky, “No.” she replied, which caused you to turn, and you saw a wry grin on her face, “date isn’t over yet amor, I have plans on plans. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Alexia then goes onto stall the truck and take off to a stuttering start, and because she was being so sweet you didn’t say anything but looked out of the window to hide your face.

“Shut up.” she chides anyway.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re confused as Alexia drives your truck off road and onto a beach just outside the main area of Barcelona. You see fairy lights in front of you and a huddle of cars and people milling around.

“What's going on Ale?” you ask, trying to take in the look on her face in the darkness of the cab of your truck as she reverses into a semi-circle with some other cars.

She doesn’t have a chance to answer before you are startled by a knock on your window and Mapis' face pressed against the glass with glee.

“You’re here! You’re here! Finally… Capi, can we start it now pleaaaase….” Mapi is silenced by her girlfriend who has made her way over and pulled her from the window. “Give them a second kjære, come, I need your help over here…” and Ingrid winks at you as she leads her excitable puppy of a girlfriend away.

You remain not having any clue about what the hell is going on.

Alexia has slipped out of the truck and moved around to your side, opening the door and you spin on the bench, widen your legs, and pull her between them.

She looks at you with a wide, open expression.

“Remember, Remember, the 5th of November…” she starts, which immediately causes the penny to drop, as you look to the scene on the beach before you.

A large unlit bonfire stands a safe distance from the trunk of your car, you continue to look around and see Eli ordering around most of Alexias team mates and even some backroom staff you recognise from the training grounds, as she stands in charge of what seems to be a crudely put together buffet table. Illuminated by fairy lights you see pots of steaming food which she stirs intermittently.

You even spotted Mario with his newly pregnant (again!) wife and his tribe of kids playing with a small football alongside Jana and Marta.

You can’t help the tears that come to your eyes at the scene before you.

“I am so grateful for you Amor…” she starts, “You have fit so well into my family and life that maybe I missed some things about your family and life…”

“No Ale.”

“No it’s okay, I know you love me. But I wanted to do this for you. But then… well. It escalated. I asked Keira and Lucy for help but then they got so excited about bonfire night that they kind of invited themselves, and then one person turned into another… and then, as soon as Mapi found out there were explosives and fire I couldn’t keep her away. And well, Ingrid had to come because she has a vested interest in keeping Mapis fingers attached to her body. And well. At that point it had got so big that I just invited anyone from the club who wanted to come, and their families. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind! This is the sweetest thing in the world… Is that…” you sniff up… “hotpot?!”

Alexia soon became old news as you scurried over to Eli and the food table, kissing her in greeting and falling into her embrace, there were bubbling pots of Chilli, Hotpot, Mushy Peas and even a tray of toffee apples.

Ingrid had come over and presented a tray of parkin that she had baked, beautifully presented in the elegant way that only the Norwegian could. “I hope this is right, I googled it and Mapi taste tested it and she was happy, but honestly, she’s happy if I give her dog food so i’m not sure she's the best judge.”

“Ingrid it’s perfect.” you assured her, the grin breaking your face convincing her more than your words.

“Can we set the fire yet!” Mapi had shouted across the set up, bottle of accelerant in hand that she had been spraying onto the pile of dried wood. A somewhat maniacal look on her face.

One of the physios took the bottle from her hand gently and pushed her towards Ingrid, taking over the situation when he recognised there was a chance the whole beach was going up in flames if she was left in charge.

As the fire grew and grew, everyone's faces were bathed in the golden light. The chill was still in the air and you felt a large puffy jacket being slung around your shoulders. Alexia standing behind you, resting her chin on your head as you settled back into her.

“Ale. Is that Guy wearing a Real Madrid jersey?” you asked, amused, as you noticed that the traditional effigy had a familiar football shirt on.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, amor.” she replied, laughter in her voice. Before you had a chance to tease her further she pinched your hips, “come on, lets get some food! I’m starving, and all this brown British mushy food smells so good…”

Well. At least she was trying.

You ate and ate, you don’t think you’ve ever been as full in your life. Alexia had spent all the evening before perfecting her hotpot recipe with the help of Eli and it was good.

She’d even shown you the burn marks on her fingers where the hot toffee from the toffee apples has caught on her skin.

Eli told you how Alexia had turned up at her house with Mapi, arms full of ingredients needing help to make traditional foods, which she then stressed over for the rest of the evening, whilst Mapi paced the kitchen, talking to her ‘fireworks guy’, because of course Mapi had a man with explosives on speed dial.

You’d told the story of Guy Fawks to an intrigued Irene, Mateo happily munching on a sticky apple on her knee. “Ah, I see… It feels like a cold San Juan. I like it” she’d declared, with an air of finality.

“So… they’re like, guisantes but… pulposa?” you overheard Parti asking Keria, as the ginger was gladly wolfing down a portion of mushy peas. “Yeah! Try them… you’ll love them.”

As a second passes before you hear a distinctive gag and Kerias laughter echoing around you think maybe Patri did not love them. Ona greedily scoffed her own portion down with Lucy looking on, proudly, “Te acostumbras amiga” she jeered towards her retreating friend, who went in search of the drinks table.

The fire dimmed but still fought on and you were shepherded towards your truck by your girlfriend, the hatch had been brought down and you could see that Alexia had stored every spare pillow and blanket from your house and made a cosy nest in the bed of your trunk.

She threw herself in, happy to warm herself in the nestle of blankets, always being more susceptible to the cold. Nose red and beanie pulled low down on her head. She opened her arms invitingly and you settled between her legs, watching the scene before you.

You watched as Alba and her latest girlfriend messed around feeding each other parkin. You watched as Mapi chased Pina around with a sparkler in her hand, the younger girl screaming for her life as Mapi cackled. You watched Eli cooing over Jona’s young baby, looking so confident with the newborn only an experienced mother could. You took in how Lucy seemed to eat her 5th bowl of chilli as Ona chatted her ear off.

The scene was perfect.

Only made more so as you felt Ale move her cold hands beneath your warm clothing, grabbing you around the stomach and resting her hands there, making you hiss at the contact, “buscar mi amor” she whispered into your ear, as you looked to the sky and watched as the familiar explosion of fireworks in the sky above you.

The whoops and hollers of the kids (and Mapi) warmed your heart, as you watched the display you let the the sound of the explosions and the ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the families and friends around you seep into your bones. The smell of sulphur invaded your senses and you settled more deeply into the woman behind you.

You quickly snapped a picture to share in your family group chat, quickly joining the tens of fireworks pictures from different displays as you all shared your evening, far away yet able to be involved, thanks to your Ale.

“Tell me about Bonfire Night, Mi Amor, I promise, I do not think it is silly.”

That much was obvious, with the effort she had gone to in such a short space of time.

You told her about the big fires the village came together to build. How it made your community stronger. The fireworks and how the sky lit up all week. The school projects and crude drawings of fires you would make. The toffee apples you would get stuck in your teeth and the parkin your mum would bake.

How the stickiness would sit on your hands for days. How your dad would always throw an unexploded firework into the bonfire without thinking, making him run away from the explosions behind him as you and your brother peeled over with laughter. How the cold would pinch your cheeks and you’d check the bonfire for hedgehogs before it was lit. How you’d spend days building a guy from your dads old clothes stuffed with newspaper. How you would run around with sparklers and spend all the next day picking them up from the streets with your brother and putting them into a bucket.

“It sounds fun, Mi Amor. I am glad you grew up with so much love. I get to benefit from it now.” Alexia had muttered into your hair, and pressed a kiss to your head.

You felt those memories wash over you, and knew that this bonfire night would be right up there with them, cemented as the best times of your life.

Yes, you weren't used to the sound of the waves as you usually watched the bonfire burn, and no, you usually weren’t stood on a bed of sand. No, your usual bonfire night would not consist of Alexia telling off Jana and Patri for sneaking in croquetas behind one of the parked cars, insisting they had to eat the British food prepared.

But the smiles were the same, people coming together around the fire was the same, the children laughing and family enjoying time together was the same, couples falling further in love and cuddling together for warmth was the same, the colours and the sparkles that lit up everyone's faces. The same.

“Thank you Alexia. For all of this. The rugby, this, it’s…It's… perfect.”

“You are perfect.” she’d replied, without hesitation.

You swatted her hand that still rested on your stomach, “Soppy.” you’d admonished.

“Not sorry,” she’d quipped back. You fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the sound of the fireworks popping above you.

“Our kids will celebrate bonfire night.” she’d let out, suddenly, with certainty. Finishing the thought you’d started to express days earlier.

Before you had a chance to formulate a thought she continued, “and pancake day. And they will watch Rugby. And football. And celebrate La Mercè. They will know about Sant Jordi. And Saint George.”

“Ale…” you’d let out, wetly, tears brimming in your eyes.

“They will be a mix of both of us. And I will marry you, you know? One day. We will be married.”

There she is again, with her beautiful simplicity.

You don’t really know what to say to that, and you let the silence take hold for a moment.

Where was the woman who blushed in embarrassment when she realised you’d understood her muttered Spanish compliments? Though, you suppose, you’d both changed together. Where was the woman you used to be who would refuse to stay in a postcode for more than 2 weeks?

“ain’t no mountain high enough” you softly sang at her, trailing your fingers down her arm, lightly, it had become your song, between the two of you, when things were bad with your PTSD she would hold you close and sing quietly, in the safety of your bed, her spanish lilt would settle your heart rate and the lyrics would melt the ice in your veins.

Her arms squeeze you tighter, both lost in the safety of your blanket fortress under the stars, surrounded by friends and family but you may as well be the only people on the beach.

“I can’t wait to ask you, officially.”

God if this setup was her idea of a date, you couldn’t imagine her idea of a proposal.

“I can’t wait to say yes” you replied, playing with her ring finger that was settled on your stomach, “officially.”

You moved back and kissed the tall blonde softly, passionately, until you’re interrupted by Mapi’s aggrieved exclamation;

“Espera! The Guy was ¿Español?”

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso community #alexia putellas #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine

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enviedear · 1 year ago

Note

Okay but Billy with an innocent reader>>>>>>>> LIKE HES SO PROTECTIVE OML

billy + innocent!reader

stop i love this. this should be an au hell i may just write more for it

tw— for use of a gun, toothrotting fluff

request

"go ahead, honey. pull the trigger." billy's voice is sweet against your ear.

your face morphs into a coy apprehension, "and you're sure this won't send me flying on my rear?"

he chuckles, straightening your arms a bit, "m'right here, i won't let that happen."

your eyes focus in on the three rusty cans in the distance, set atop a dry rotting log. you know there's no way you're going to hit them all. you'd be lucky to hit one.

but billy is adamant in both that you need to learn how to shoot, and that you’ll be a ‘natural’. his driving objective, however, being that since he can't be with you from sun up to sun down, he'll have to settle with teaching you how to fend for yourself.

it's not unlike him to behave this way. in the months you've known the gunslinger, you've come to find that his urge to protect you is enormous.

his protection isn't reserved just against the infamous wild men of the west, but rather, anything and anyone. if it could possibly do you harm, physically or mentally, he's there to guard and defend.

like a knight out of the princess tales your mother used to tell you.

you let out a harsh breath before your finger begins to press into the trigger. too soft at first, the metal remains in its' spot, you muster up all your courage and pull the trigger. your eyes are screwed shut as the bullet whistles away, and you quickly turn into billy.

his arms ensnare you, wrapping you tight, "what're you hidin' for? you hit it dead center, sweetheart!"

you lift your head, staring unabashedly into his blue eyes, "did i really?"

he hums, using his dominant hand to steer your gaze away from him and toward the target. sure enough, the can on the left side has a small hole right in its middle.

billy chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back, "told you, my girl's a natural."

you can't help but grin, the tension releasing from your shoulders, "or i've got a good teacher." you tease.

he gives you a squeeze before letting go, gesturing toward the cans, "c'mon, let's see if you can do it again."

emboldened by your first success, you square your shoulders and take aim. this time, you focus a bit more, remembering the sensation of the recoil and trying to replicate it. the shot rings out, and you open your eyes to find another can hit.

billy lightly claps you on the back, "see? just like that, sweetheart."

as you reload, you can't help but appreciate the way the afternoon sun plays on his weathered hat, casting thin rays upon his lips, "m’not as hopeless as i thought."

he grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do i e’ver lie to you?”

you ignore his sly remark, focusing back in on your targets. with newfound confidence, you continue to practice, the rhythmic sound of gunshots filling the air. as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

the sounds of gunfire continue, each shot feeling more controlled and confident than the last. with every successful hit, billy's pride in your progress shines through his loving stare. he stands by your side, offering guidance and encouragement, a quiet guardian in the backdrop of your learning.

as the sun dips even lower, casting a dim hue over the landscape, you catch a glimpse of billy watching you with a softness in his eyes. he often got this way, completely lost in you. especially when you're doing things his way— not in the way you'd normally feel inclined. you're rather tame and harmless in comparison to billy, the entire west, really.

growing up away from the fast-growing townships and travelers, when you met billy he completely flipped your world upside down. you gave him all your firsts, shooting his pistol only adds to the expansive list of firsts you've given him.

you go to take aim again, eyes closing as you shoot, still too frightened to keep them open— your bullet flies past your targets, missing entirely. you've grown used to the sound of a hit and when you open your eyes to find the miss, you groan.

billy's safeguarding nature becomes even more apparent as you meet his winsome eyes, his gaze lingers on you, subtle worry etched on his features.

he knows you're inexperienced, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world he's accustomed to. he knows it isn't, but if this were a shootout, that big of a miss would have cost you your life.

the mere thought of you in that situation is something he's not willing to entertain.

"you're doing mighty fine, sweetheart," he reassures, a tenderness in his voice that speaks volumes, "but remember, there's more to this than cans and targets. gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours open, alright?"

you nod, appreciating his concern and the earnest care he extends. it dawns on you that learning to shoot isn't just a practical skill— it's a testament to the depth of billy's affection. he's arming you with more than just a handgun— he's giving you a piece of his own resilience and determination.

as the sun sets, casting long shadows across the landscape, you take a moment to stand side by side with billy, appreciating the warmth of his presence. the sky paints hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the bond that's been forged between you.

"thanks, billy," you say, sincerity lacing your words. "for teaching me, for being patient."

he smiles, a softness in his expression that contrasts with the rugged exterior, "my pleasure, sweetheart. always want you to be able to take care of yourself."

with the last rays of sunlight fading, you holster the gun, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment. billy wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back towards the homestead. as you walk together, the echoes of gunshots in the ears serve as a reminder that you're not just learning to shoot— you're learning to navigate billy's world, and with his protection, you're sure you'll do just fine.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #coriolanus x reader

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kakujis · 1 year ago

Text

☆ 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒...

“...AND SHE'S FALLING ASLEEP, AS SHE'S WALKING WITH STRANGERS.”

synopsis: satoru’s had his eye on you for a while, who other than his best friend, suguru, to help him get you home?

warnings: dark content/ageless + minors DNI. afab!fem reader, modern au, naive/shy! reader, non curse! au. yandere!satoru. drugging, dubcon, voyeurism(sort of), non-consensual picture taking/recording, dacryphilia, fingering, p*ssy slapping, creamp*e, restraints, possessive behavior, blackmail, degradation, praise, pet names (baby, princess, angel, good girl), drooling, your friends are really shitty, suguru calls u a slut like one time. suguru is mean, satoru is less mean kind of, he's probs ooc at times. that should be it, if i forgot anything pls lmk.

ft + wc: mainly gojo x reader, lil bit of suguru x reader. around 5.8k.

network: @enchantedforest-network

a/n: well. this was a doozy lol. i started it back in mid september and it's taken me around a month to get here which is actually pretty fast for me! this was supposed to be part of my first mini kinktober but u can see with the pace i'm writing at... well LOL. anyways, big thank you to wallaby for actually getting me out of the rut to write this, koca the loml for helping me w satoru's dialogue (dirty talk)!! @sxgars for the banner, and nie, the other loml, for proofreading!

the embers burn under the twilight sky, as gojo satoru’s laugh bounces amongst the crowd. with feet buried in the sand, hands stuck in your hoodie, you stare at the bonfire. every so often, someone’ll throw another log in to keep it burning, the wood crackling like fireworks. it’s an interesting set of sounds, sights, and smells.

your eyes flicker throughout the people surrounding you, some chatting away, some speaking only through makeout sessions, some are probably even arguing. none of them are your friends, not even acquaintances. you’re not sure why you agreed to come out tonight, coaxed by your own friends, who swore up and down they wouldn’t leave you alone this time, but ditched you when they found their hook up for the night.

meanwhile, on the other side of the bonfire is gojo, handsome with snowy hair and blue eyes hidden behind his staple sunglasses, but loud and boisterous as he jokes with his friends, a small semi circle of individuals surrounding him. must be nice, you think before sighing and taking another sip of your watered down alcoholic drink, looking away when a voice calls out to you making you jump a little.

“you alright?” he asks, squatting down to reach your eye level as you sit. when you look back, it’s geto suguru right in front of you, his own drink in hand, illuminated by the fiery light of the bonfire and the pale moonlight, the colors clashing against his skin.

“i’m fine,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady, but you’re already ready to back away. you’ve always thought geto was handsome, tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and an aura you just couldn’t read. perhaps it was the infatuation that kept you here on this sandy beach, even when your friends were long gone, eyes always finding him whenever one of you passed by each other at parties like this. “you?”

“it’s alright,” he shrugs, pulling out a cigarette from his shirt pocket and leaning back, using the bonfire to light it up. you watch as he brings it back to his lips and takes a long drag, cheeks hollowing as he inhales, before making sure to blow away from you. “much better when there’s a pretty girl around.”

you heat up, looking at your toes, peeking through the sand. “.. thank you,” you reply, struggling to look at him as he takes a seat next to you on your towel. “you’re not so bad yourself. you’re geto suguru, right?”

“why, thank you,” he says, scooting closer to you, “and i am. what’s your name?”

you give him your name, heart pounding away at the close proximity. beyond the scent of smoke, he smells woodsy, sort of like incense. you wonder if you smell similarly, your vanilla perfume mixing in with the bonfire fumes.

“pretty name,” he says before he repeats it back, the syllables rolling off his tongue easily and straight into your stomach, “you staying out much longer?”

he makes you dizzy, and somewhat anxious, you were never planning - at least in this lifetime - on ever meeting him, let alone actually speaking to him. you’re not used to this, more comfortable with people watching than interacting.

you shake your head, “nah, i was gonna head home soon,” you glance out toward the ocean swells, waves crashing against the beach before they recede back into the tide. “my friends are already gone, so there’s not much else for me to do.”

“aw, really? that’s a shame,” he replies and you peek back, his mouth pressed into a hard line, his thumb tapping against his cheek, before he nods, brightening up. “need someone to walk you home?”

you pause, “um… no, it’s okay, i-”

“you’re gonna walk home this late at night?” he asks, cutting you off with an eyebrow raised, “by yourself?”

you glance over at the darkened road, the dim lights of the city sprinkled far off in the distance. it’s foreboding and who knows what lurks in the dark? besides, wouldn’t it be better to walk home with someone? the warm amber light from the fire plays on his face as you glance back at him.

“i don’t bite,” he continues, giving a reassuring smile as his hands come up playfully, “i swear.”

“… okay,” you give in, nodding, “sure.” you make a move to get up, but he stops you.

“wait,” he starts, bringing his drink up closer towards you. “let’s have a toast.”

you giggle, the tension easing out of you, before holding yours up as well, “a toast to what?”

he smiles back, “to new friendship.” he tips his cup to yours, but doesn’t take into account how much stronger his clink would be compared to yours. the rest of your sticky drink crashes down onto you, spilling and seeping through your clothes, while suguru’s quick to mutter out, “oh shit, sorry!”

you shake your head, “don’t worry! it’s fine!” but suguru isn’t hearing it, his cigarette dangling haphazardly from his mouth as his brow is scrunched in concentration while he tries his best to wipe at the mess with his hands. embarrassingly, your core flutters at his touch, especially when his fingers swipe across your thighs.

“let me clean you up,” he says, half mumbled from the cig, handing his drink over to you, before unzipping his jacket. “don’t have any napkins on me, sorry.”

your nerves continue to fire off, getting the best of you and the words of ‘really! it’s fine!’ die off your tongue. you glance around, looking for something, anything, to take your mind off of geto’s sweater dragging across your exposed skin, especially when he dips down in between your thighs dangerously close to your heat, to dab at the liquid that’s dripping off your body.

gojo’s laugh booms again, causing you to glance over at him and you welcome the distraction. you catch his eye and he gives you an excited little wave, catching you off guard. you wonder if he can see just how flustered you are, but still, you raise your own hand back and he grins wider, before breaking eye contact as someone else calls for his attention.

in an effort to calm your nerves, the recent memory of gojo’s affable bright smile definitely not helping, you take a big swig of suguru’s drink, forgetting it’s not even yours. his drink is stronger, thanks to the lack of melted ice, burning as it slides down your throat which makes you cough up some, scrunching your nose as some liquid runs down the side of your mouth.

but geto uses a thumb to catch it, smirking at the way you blink up at him bewildered, “all clean.”

you take a breath to steady yourself before speaking, “um, could you… take me home?” you push his hands away, wanting nothing more than to hide under the safety of your covers. at this rate, you might pass out, the night’s been a bit too eventful for your taste.

he nods, getting up and dusting himself before reaching out with an outstretched hand. you take it without hesitation, tensing when he starts to brush the sand off your shorts. you let him do that for a few moments, breathing hitching when his hand gets concerningly close to the bare skin of the back of your thighs, heart thrumming in your chest and pounding in your ears.

“just making sure,” he says, before he throws his cigarette into the pit, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. “lead the way, princess.” he grins as he steps off to the side to make room and give a small courtesy bow which makes you laugh.

he makes eye contact with satoru and gives a small wave before leaving with you, catching you each time you stumble in the sand, marked by shoe and foot prints from excited partygoers. he lets you know that he’s got you each time while you mutter out various ‘sorry’s!’ meanwhile, gojo peers over his friends, eyes honing in on your forms before he says a quick goodbye to them and runs off.

as the two of you are finally on solid land, you hear a “wait a minute!” and glance back. jogging towards you is none other than gojo satoru and suddenly you feel like throwing up. you’re not too good at meeting a new person, let alone two.

“hi!” he says as he huffs, hands placed on his knees.

“are you actually winded from that?” geto laughs, a pretty little tune that plays on your ear.

“i drank so much, dude. give me a break.” gojo responds.

you’re even more uncomfortable as the two of them joke around, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you stare at the ground. satoru shifts so he’s in your view, bending sideways, pretty snowy hair falling down his face.

“anyways… hey.” he says again but softer this time, twinkly eyes on yours as the corners of his lips upturn. “i’m satoru.”

“hi,” you say, giving a small wave, before you state your name. “nice to meet you.”

nervously, you glance back up at geto, who smiles reassuringly back at you. with your heart definitely beating a mile a minute, you back away. “it’s this way.” you say, jutting your thumb behind you, and the two friends nod.

“we’ll follow you,” geto says, nudging gojo to stand up straight, who in turn, elbows him back. “go ahead.”

you nod, trudging forward, listening to their continued talk behind you. it’s just their voices, the sea breeze, and the sound of shoes on pavement as you walk. you look back towards them, taking a moment to eye them, you drink in their tall, built forms, the matching dark outfits, sweaters and all, and for a bit, you decide to trust them. you trust the easy going smiles, the laid-back banter, and the way that satoru smiles each time he looks at you does a lot to ease the tension in your body.

it’s not too long into your walk, maybe only 30 minutes since you took the last of your drink, before you start to feel… strange. there’s a heaviness that starts to settle in your limbs, your mind going foggy. you reach out, grabbing onto one of their sleeves, who’s sleeve? you’re not sure, but you grasp it trying to dig your nails into the cotton fabric, as your knees buckle from your own weight.

“hey? are you okay?” a voice asks, bouncing around your brain as the scenery starts to spin. you must’ve grabbed suguru’s sleeve, as you try to focus on the inky strands of hair that fall past his shoulders. you reach out with your other arm, trying to grab onto something as you continue to fall, a ring starting to settle in your ears.

“geto?” you call, as you feel another large hand on your lower back, trying to keep you steady. “i think, i need… to go home.” but you don’t hear a reply as the void takes over you, swallowing you up, as you fall completely unconscious into the arms of geto suguru.

the two of them are quiet, the easy-going atmosphere suddenly gone. you’re thrown over geto’s arm haphazardly, limbs limp, as they stare down at you. gojo speaks first.

“that was quick,” he says, bending down to brush your hair away from your face. “how much did you give her?” he trails his finger down your cheek, poking the skin, before tracing the outline of your lips. he has half a mind to kiss you, but decides against it, wanting his first with you to be when you’re awake.

“the usual,” geto responds and if you were awake, you’d see he feels a little colder, eyes almost vacant. “you wanna carry her? you like her more don’t you?”

“i don’t just like her,” gojo responds, before he’s lifting you out of geto’s arms. “i’m gonna make her my girlfriend and depending on how well things go, i’ll marry her soon.. ish.” he cradles you gently, carrying you in his arms, princess-style like as he watches you with mirth filled eyes.

geto rolls his eyes, “oh yeah, i’m sure she’s gonna wanna date you after this.”

gojo snorts, glaring daggers at his best friend, “she’s not gonna have a choice.”

maybe if you weren’t so naive, you wouldn’t have ended up like this. you blink awake, body still heavy from whatever drug was, or perhaps is, still coursing through your veins. the lull of sleep continues to beckon you over, the weight of your eyelids aiding in it’s cause, but you try to stay awake. something feels wrong.

you decide to start with your legs, wiggling them around when you realize you’re in a bed rubbing your legs against the silken sheets. you focus upwards, wanting to move your arms to prop yourself up, until you realize: you can’t.

the rope around your wrists is tight, coiled up and keeping you locked in place. even as you try your best to wriggle out of them, you’re doing nothing but giving yourself rope burns as panic starts to settle within your bones.the room you’re in looks normal enough, a desk off to the side, jacket hanging on the door, but there’s something sinister in how normal it looks. and you wonder just whose bedroom is this?

“oh, hey, you’re up.” you hear as the bed dips under the newly added weight. it’s gojo, peering down at you. he’s taken off his top and jacket, leaving only his pants, and if you weren’t terrified, you’d probably appreciate the sight. you can see his eyes clearly now, his sunglasses sitting atop his nightstand and as beautiful as they are, you can’t be lost in them for long.

“gojo?” you try, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“call me satoru.” he responds, a pretty smile gracing his features.

“where..”

“are you?” another voice chimes in, a voice that’s sweet, almost mockingly so. you glance towards the direction it’s coming from to see suguru, head leaning against his open palm. he smiles when the two of you make eye contact, the same disarming smile he gave you a few hours ago. “heyo~”

you’re still disoriented, glancing back between the two of them as you try your best to slide out of the binds.

“hey, hey,” satoru starts, placing a hand over your wrists, “you’re gonna hurt yourself, baby.” his warmth isn’t comforting, it’s terrifying and the way that pet name falls off his tongue so easily freaks you out further. just where the fuck are you?

you can feel your tears welling up, nevermind the fact that your consciousness is still foggy. you’re exposed - vulnerable - with two men you’ve only met recently. there’s goosebumps on your skin, clad in nothing but your panties as you try to curl in on yourself, but gojo won’t let you. instead, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer, your head resting on his thigh.

“gojo,” you plead, starting to sniffle, “i wanna go home…”

“satoru.” he reminds you gently, before his hand starts to trail up and down your side, trying his best to comfort you. “i’ll take you home later, okay?”

you shake your head, tears starting to fall, little droplets stain his pants, “why not now-”

“told you,” suguru drawls, interrupting you while his expression remains uninterested, “she’s scared out of her mind.”

“thanks suguru, great input.” satoru deadpans, shooting him a glare before his focus is back on you. “i can’t take you home yet, but i will. i promise.” and those words shoot straight to your stomach. it’s so eerily similar to earlier, when geto promised he’d take you home and that he was safe.

“my friends…” you mumble, “are gonna notice i’m missing.” it’s a pathetic attempt of a threat, your friends are already long gone and home for the night, but there’s the hope that when morning comes and your “i’m home” text doesn’t show up, they’re bound to notice, right?

“hm? which ones? the ones that left you or the ones that let us take you here? oh wait, those are the same ones.” suguru taunts, snickering as the pit in your stomach grows by the moment, “it’s really funny what people will do for money.”

you furrow your brow, heart shattering at the confession, because there’s no way your friends would sell you out. but the shit-eating grin that won’t leave suguru’s face, almost as if it’s etched in stone, silently confirms your worst fears. “i don’t…” - understand is the word that should be said, but it escapes you like the sand between your fingers on that fucking beach that you never should’ve been at in the first place.

“okay, so, don’t freak out.” gojo starts, before muttering, “well i guess you already are, huh.” on the brightside, the drug suguru gave you is strong enough that the disorientation nestled so deeply within you is able to keep your screaming at bay.

satoru’s focus, unlike yours, is almost too sharp. he’s been chasing after you for a while, but finally having you in his headlights is driving him insane. the tips of his fingers continue tracing up your arm til they find the depressions in your neck, that he has half a mind to wrap around to see what you’d look like with his hand as a necklace. but that can wait, he’ll be soft with you for the first time.

“the important thing is that you’re here with me. you came out to have fun right? have fun with me and i’ll take you home.” he winks, his easy-going front still on full force as he tries to calm you down, but you flinch when he gets a little too close to your lips.

in your mind you know, there’s always a catch. “what do you want from me?” you ask, voice featherlight, but everyone in the room knows what it is he wants.

“i think you know,” suguru chimes and if you could curse him out, you probably would. “why else would we bring you here?”

“hmm,” gojo hums, his thumb gliding across the top of your cheek to swipe at some of your tears. “you know, you’ve been coming around to our little get togethers for a while, but this is probably our first real conversation.”

gojo’s always liked you. when he first saw you, he thought you were cute. doe-eyed and clumsily searching for an open spot to sit while you did your best to hold onto your friend’s shirt, you caught his eye. cuter still were the pretty laughs that came from you, sometimes even snorting when something particularly funny was said.

there was a minor issue though: you’d never look at him, no matter how much he bounced off the walls, even when he’d head over and say ‘hi’ to your friends, you scampered away much more interested in your hands situated in your lap. and maybe that was the charm, you were prey he wanted to catch.

it wasn’t long til he noticed your quick, continued glances at suguru and how you only did it when you were sure he wouldn’t notice you. he was sulky at first, irritated that his best friend seemed to take his spotlight, but who is geto suguru if not gojo satoru’s closest and greatest friend? and with enough prying, geto got the information out of him and simply laughed. gojo was a little hesitant when geto suggested a plan, something they haven’t done in a while.

“i dunno, i thought we decided we were over that.” satoru pouted that day as he stared off, focused on the others at the park.

“you got any bright ideas, lover boy?” suguru retorted, leaning back on the park bench, hands in his pockets.

“nah.” he shrugged, elbows on his knees and bent forward. and so they ended up here again, except, in gojo’s bedroom for once.

“you know your friends were pretty easy to convince,” satoru grimaces, his thumb swiping at your tears. “you should really get some new ones.”

you’re unsure if you’re more mortified than flattered that satoru feels so strongly for you. but there are no words that spring up in your mind, there’s nothing you can possibly say.

“listen, the goal here, princess,” suguru starts putting emphasis on the pet name as he gestures between you and gojo. “is that satoru fucks you, you’re his girl, and you guys get to live happily ever after.”

“...and if i refuse?” you counter, but your voice is still barely above a whisper as tears continue to fall down your face.

“dunno if you wanna do that.” satoru sighs, before he catches the phone that suguru throws over. he opens it up, before turning it towards you revealing the photos they took of you earlier, tied up and exposed. “i mean you do look really cute in these, but i’d rather they stay in our circle for now.”

the weight of that word is heavy, because there is no universe in which you’re allowed to say no. you’ve fallen deep into their sticky web with no chance of climbing out, the only thing left is for their fangs to sink into you. the images they’ve taken burn into your mind and you steel yourself to find your resolve.

there’s a few pros when you think about it. gojo’s handsome, a little funny, and seems to actually like you. you’re not entirely sure if it outweighs the con of fucking drugging and then kidnapping you, but what can you do with the cards you’ve been dealt? geto is whole nother can of worms you don’t feel like delving into.

“fine.” you sniffle and gojo perks up, lips curling up into a smile. “… i’ll do whatever you want.”

“told you she’d say yes.” he singsongs as the other rolls his eyes. “that settles it, you’re officially apart of the gojo clan!” neither you, nor suguru, have the heart to tell him that you didn’t actually agree to marriage.

“well then!” suguru claps, making you jolt. “let’s get started, yeah?” he shifts from his spot, moving til he’s back up against the headrest. “let’s get you a little more comfortable,” he says, pulling you up til your back is flush against his clothed chest. “that’s better.”

you don’t have time to worry about just how fast things are going when satoru slots himself between your legs, heart racing in fear mixed with anticipation when he pushes your panties to the side as his fingers flutter around your clit.

meanwhile, suguru is pulling your thighs back, locked beneath his elbows. as much as you want to close your legs, you can’t. suguru’s too strong for you.

“you don’t need these, right?” gojo mutters, hands gripping one side of your underwear, but there’s no reason to answer as he rips them clean apart, chucking them onto the floor.

it’s silent for a moment as satoru watches the rise and fall of your chest, quickened in your panicked state, before his eyes meet yours. he grins, “man, you’re so fucking cute, you know?”

you heat up under his gaze, and you try to look away, but he simply leans in, so close your noses almost touch as he stares deeply into you before looking down at your lips. your breath hitches again as his lips ghost over yours and you shut your eyes when he asks, “can i?”

it’s an odd first kiss with your hands tied up and his best friend in the same bed as you in a tangled mess of limbs but he’s surprisingly soft. you’re falling, so deeply into the kiss that you don’t notice the way suguru pulls your knees up more so he can get better access to your chest.

you squeak when you feel a pinch on your nipple, suguru seemingly getting bored and deciding to pass the time playing with you. your squeals soon turn to moans as he rolls the nub between his fingers and satoru uses the opportunity to slip his tongue in, spit mixing with yours as your mouths mesh together.

his fingers find their way downward again, lightly trailing up and down your folds with feather light touches, making you twitch each time he brushes against your clit. you jolt when he sinks a finger in, encouraged by the wetness of your hole, pushing back against geto in an attempt to squirm away, but you can’t, sandwiched between two men who can do whatever they want, however they want.

gojo’s good, adding in another thick finger to your slick heat and sliding in your gummy walls. it’s different from when you do it, your digits are slender and smaller than his. you keel, moaning and thighs trembling, but gojo’s lips stay firmly on yours as does geto’s hand which continues to pinch and palm at your breast, sending ripples of hot pleasure through you.

“you gonna cum on his fingers, pretty?” geto murmurs, voice low as he nips at your ear.

satoru continues to pump away, fingers curling into your sweet spot and dotting your vision in stars of white. he picks up the pace when you mewl louder, the sound rushing straight to his dick as your slick rolls down his hand. you press further into suguru, whimpering and thighs tensing before you cum messily on satoru’s fingers, bucking and kicking as much as he allows you.

“that’s it,” suguru drawls, his hot breath on your ear, “good fuckin’ job.” he says it like he’s the one inside you, churning up your insides.

satoru pulls away, a small trail of saliva connecting the two of you that he laps up with his tongue. he slightly groans at your pretty spit slicked lips, before he’s taking out his aching cock. he’s big. big enough to make you whimper as he rubs your juices over his cockhead, precum already beaded on his tip, before running it through your sensitive folds. he’s slow, wanting to enjoy his first time with you, as he lines up to your still twitching entrance.

“fuck,” he hisses as he sinks inch by inch into your dripping pussy. the stretch drives you insane even with the prep beforehand and he stills when he bottoms out, hips flush with yours. “sucked me all in, huh?”

suguru and satoru move like they’re sync’d, somehow knowing what the other wants to do. suguru’s hands are replaced as satoru pushes your knees back up against your chest as your head lolls backward onto suguru’s shoulder, mouth agape.

“ah, ah,” suguru tuts, cupping your cheeks with one hand before forcing you to look back at the other. “let him see your pretty face.”

“s-sorry,” you manage to say before satoru starts moving, your breath getting caught in your throat as you mewl out, “oh, fuck.”

a breathless smile falls on satoru’s face, as he watches yours contort in pleasure with each slow drag of his cock within your tight walls that seem to swallow him up with each thrust. your embarrassment is long gone, replaced with a fervent need as satoru fucks every single thought out of your brain.

“satoru,” you whimper and he digs his nails harder into your thighs, to not blow his load right then and there, but the way you plead his name as you stare up at him with needy, glass-blown eyes almost sends him over the edge. “satoru.”

“yeah?” he coos, leaning in and tilting his head, as he slows the pace down, “what do you want from me, baby?”

“use your words,” suguru says, pressing hot kisses to your cheek, reminding you that he’s still there. “c’mon, i know you’ve still got some in that pretty little head of yours.” you can feel his erection pressing against your back, as his hand snakes down to your clit to rub slow, sticky circles on your sensitive nub. “or are you too dumb on satoru’s cock, hm?”

gojo laughs, spurred on by geto’s continued teasing, “aww man i think she is. wanna be my lil cocksleeve? get fucked stupid everyday?”

he laughs harder when your eyes roll back, cunt clenching at his words, the first time you’ve been talked down to like this. meanwhile, suguru switches to hook a finger into your mouth, digging his nail into the wet, warm cavern of your cheek, hot breath puffing onto his hand. when your eyes flutter up at him, he snickers, “you good?”

you feel a tap on your cheek and shift your blurry focus back on the one inside you, buried up to the hilt while his hips still slightly grind into you. his blue eyes burn through you and in moments like this, you truly can’t read him. “answer me.”

through the haze you nod, but it’s not a good enough answer in suguru’s book. “you can do better than that.” he chastises bringing his hand down onto your puffy clit, slapping hard enough to make you squeal and bite down on the digit keeping your mouth open.

tears prick your widened eyes as he does it again, “that’s for biting me, brat.” he hisses, and you find your words again, stumbling out ‘sorry! ‘m sorry!’ as drool runs down your chin and his hand. but suguru is fucking mean, swatting down at your puffy pussy, each hit just as hard; a stark contrast to the sneer on his features while he hooks in yet another finger to pull your cheek further out.

although the nicer of the two, satoru can’t help but be enamored with everything you do, especially if you’re screaming and crying trapped between the arms of his best friend. his cock twitches in your cunt, “well fuck, aren’t you pretty when you’re cryin’ on me?” he groans, pulling back out just to slam his hips back into yours at a brutal pace making you squeal louder.

you’re incredibly overwhelmed, glancing back between the two of them as the tears start to leak down your face again, chest heaving. you hate that it feels so fucking good to be used like this, having absolutely no control. still, you fight against your restraints once more, trying to raise your hands just enough to push against satoru’s abs to slow down, but it’s all moot, he won’t stop until he’s satisfied.

“shh,” suguru soothes, starting to play with your clit again, trying to ease the sting. “sorry for getting carried away, you’re just so fun to ruin.” his hand once again moving to cup under your chin, smearing drool and tears across your skin and tilting you so that his tongue is able to press against your cheek, licking a stripe to taste the saltiness of your tears as his chest vibrates with a low groan. he can’t wait til it’s his turn to get his hands on you.

“suguru - oh fuck - ‘m sorry, fuck, ‘m really sorry,” you blubber between moans, still whining and writhing, he raises an eyebrow at you with a hungry grin, liking the way you call his name.

but satoru’s the one who answers, breathless and groaning, “it’s okay princess, shit, don’t worry about it. just focus on me, alright?”

you’re pliant and close to your high, easily shifting back to satoru, watching him through muddied vision and mumbling out, “mkay, satoru.”

the sweat rolls down the side of his brow and he’s so close to letting go, but satoru’s a bit of a romantic, thinking it’d be best for you to cum at the same time. still, the way you call his name has him glaring up at suguru, letting him know what he wants.

his friend nods in acknowledgment as the speed of his fingers quickens, expertly working over your clit. “c’mon,” suguru taunts, already caught on to how much you like it when they’re mean, “be a good little slut and cum on satoru’s cock, yeah?”

his words run straight to your core, as you babble out “mhms,” body tensing and jerking as your orgasm is finally coaxed out of you.

“fuck,” satoru hisses, groaning out, “good fucking girl.” as he unleashes his load deep into you.

you hiccup and whine a few more times before you go limp in suguru’s hold, falling asleep.

“shit, i think she passed out again.” suguru mumbles before he undoes your bindings, uncharacteristically kind as he rubs his palms over your tired and sore wrists. carefully, he slips out from underneath you, letting you fall back onto the bed. “you overdid it, satoru.”

gojo’s unresponsive, chest heaving as he stays within you, so geto takes it upon himself to do the finishing touches. he reaches over, grabbing his phone and unlocking the camera app.

pressing the red button, he captures the scene. you’re effectively passed out at this point, arms sprawled at your sides and head lolled back. this is always his favorite part, even more so than the actual fucking. there’s just something so fun about recording the aftermath, messy and dirty and oh so wet.

satoru swoops down into view, throwing a wink and a smile, before reaching out for the phone. suguru obliges, tossing it over to let gojo capture what he sees.

“you stayin’ over?” gojo asks, paneling down the expanse of your skin, littered in sweat, cum, and marks. he makes sure to record when he pulls out, as slowly as he can, to show off your swollen hole leaking out his seed.

“yeah, i’ll knock out on the couch.” geto replies, grimacing as he notices the wet patch of cum and fluids on his pants. he swipes a clean pair of gojo’s hanging on the back of his computer chair before heading out. he stops at the door with a quick turnaround to ask, “let me play with her sometime?”

“of course,” his friend responds, kneeling down between your legs, spreading open your folds to further watch his sticky cum drip from your abused hole. “i owe you big time. let me know if you need any help yeah?”

gojo’s like a kid in a candy shop, delving his fingers in between your hole and your folds to catch some of the sticky substance dripping to the floor before bringing it up to the camera with a whistle.

suguru shrugs, hungry eyes scanning back to your sleeping form before his lips curl up into a smirk. “nah, don’t think i’ll need to.”

and satoru’s the same, just as insatiable as his friend, tossing his phone to the floor before he’s crawling up over you again, nose burying into your dizzying scent. fuck, he should’ve asked if you were cool with somno. well, maybe it’d be alright. it’s not the worst thing he’s done tonight.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #fem reader #pibby writing midnight #pibby writing

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tremendum · 2 years ago

Text

Mr. Miller’s House

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 7.6k requested: yes summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really, this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao

notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it. as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE!

[this is a sequel to Mr Miller. part three other Joel fics: fever landmines ]

★

this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea.

fuck.

the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.

you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-

you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table.

they glue themselves to him.

fuck.

Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this.

you yearn for that escape as much as he does.

then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad."

speak for yourself, Ellie.

both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil.

this girl's going to kill you.

it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement.

it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner.

no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile.

for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it?

it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father?

because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel.

you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks.

it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all.

but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey.

hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist.

the anger and hatred grew awful.

it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her?

you ought to punch his fucking face.

you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners."

he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him.

but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk, "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?"

you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him.

another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember.

peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.

proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine.

"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive.

a shiver runs down your spine.

does he ever think about it?

you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.

your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand.

your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him. "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline.

nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again.

it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.

"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore.

you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it.

your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit.

a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core.

"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs."

"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning.

"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table."

"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice.

you listen, for once.

and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence.

several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen.

at least you and her are trying.

you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you.

he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you.

the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both.

you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity.

"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised.

his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?"

"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him.

"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-"

"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat.

"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward."

"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking.

you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now.

"Ellie, go home."

Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious.

"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something."

yeah, you think. you might.

Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence.

shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away.

Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold.

Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone.

it’s silent for a moment before he speaks.

"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps.

you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic."

"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted.

it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that.

you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it."

his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters.

you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that."

his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me."

"then why won't you show her!?" you yell.

it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again.

his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?"

you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice.

"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing."

thinking about- what?

oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited."

he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won.

"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet.

"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze.

"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you.

you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel."

his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words.

your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all.

your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.

ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago.

she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?

no.

you have to go over.

the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you.

you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him.

you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ.

god, you're so fucked up.

christ.

so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it.

what the fuck are you doing?

you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah. that’s... that’s fine.

fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly?

you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs.

Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now.

your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.

the door swings open in an air of irritation.

your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes.

"y'here for more?" he snarks.

your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit.

he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm.

you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.

you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel.

he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in."

your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought.

the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker.

your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again.

so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.

he’s going to fucking hurt.

it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard.

you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink.

but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock.

"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.

you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him.

your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response.

you give him one.

"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction.

his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner.

"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?"

his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly.

his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours.

"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now."

his voice is... scary.

the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so.

your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready.

his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?"

you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator.

you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation.

he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you.

"are you wet?"

your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes."

he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty.

"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen.

you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.)

"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner."

his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging.

you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet.

"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller.

"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him.

his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you.

"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums.

"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please."

his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up."

this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away.

"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat.

"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink.

it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand.

one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him.

there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you.

the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in.

"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away."

you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze.

you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon.

your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it.

he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?"

you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling.

"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart.

"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk.

you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out.

your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you.

Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?"

you groan, "fuck you, Joel."

his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit.

his hand slides out of your pants, face furious.

you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand.

he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch.

your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him.

"get on your goddamn knees now."

you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans.

your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum.

he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick.

"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?"

you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir."

"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it.

he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house.

two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air.

he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut."

you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions.

"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut."

he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself.

you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house.

he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more.

"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest.

you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you.

you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs.

"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?"

you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room.

Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame.

your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind.

your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him.

his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days.

you love it.

his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.

"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him.

"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know.

he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream.

it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days.

he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex.

your arms are tugged roughly.

panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling.

it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you.

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."

the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus.

"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice.

you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you.

you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it."

you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you."

it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone.

"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours.

soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much."

he hums, "you want me to stop?"

"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop.

he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it."

he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.

"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl."

you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-

"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl.

"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds.

your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer.

there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear.

when you come to, he's still ravaging your body.

you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you.

"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you."

he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name.

he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it.

"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw.

yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close-

and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white.

you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.

you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you."

you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him.

a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl."

you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat.

he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone.

but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted.

you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it.

so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it.

(you hate him. he hates you.)

and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you.

when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job.

(what a cocky asshole.)

it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway.

. part three .

requests open

#joel miller smut #joel x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou spoilers #tlou fanfiction #the last of us (hbo)#the last of us (tv)

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feirceangel · 1 year ago

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Imagine | Lost (Zoro)

Imagine getting lost with Zoro.

Word Count: 1,604

Warnings: hurt/comfort

(Gif is not mine!)

Things haven't gone according to plan. Of course, that's the norm when you're traveling with Luffy and the rest of the Strawhats. Each crew member has their own quirks, but sometimes everyone manages to stay relatively on track.

Except for Zoro.

The green haired swordsman is notorious for his directional challenges. He even gets lost on his own ship, that's how hopeless his sense of direction is.

So, when everyone splits up to search for the current treasure of the day, you watch with a chuckle as Zoro immediately storms off in the wrong direction.

Huffing with laughter, you race to catch up with him. You trail beside him until he notices and raises a brow at you.

"Huh, what're you doing? We're supposed to split up."

"Oops," you grin at him, chuckling at his exasperated sigh.

He doesn't stop walking, "Go away."

"No."

"I'm serious.”

"Whatcha gonna do? Stick me with your big sword?" You hide your laugh behind your hand as his ears turn beet red.

"If you're gonna follow me, at least shut your mouth," he grumbles.

Smirking at your victory, you subtly start walking a bit closer to him, eyes roaming the area for any potential threats or treasures.

If he notices how close you are, he doesn't comment. He's also on the lookout for danger, hand resting idly on the hilt of his sword.

You've always admired how ready for a fight his is- never letting his guard down. Even when he's 'napping', he's still paying attention to his surroundings.

You've tried a few times to prank him when you thought he was fast asleep but failed every single time. He seems to be able to sense your proximity every time you get within five meters of him.

Even now, as you walk in close proximity, you can't help but admire him. His tall posture and alert eyes that peer into the forest. His soft green hair slightly tousled from the wind.

"You're staring," his voice bears a tinge of smugness, making you whip your head the opposite way.

"Was not."

"Was too."

"I wasn't. I don't know why you'd even think that," you cross your arms and turn to look at him again. "Not like there's much to look at."

Your tone and smirk betray your lies, Zoro unable to stop from smirking along with your teasing.

"Really? Nothing at all?"

"Of course, I'd never ogle at you and your well trained muscles."

He smirks, turning away from you.

It's been like this since you were welcomed into the Strawhat Crew, easy banter between you and the swordsman. After you had proven your loyalty to Luffy that is. You believe Zoro values loyalty above all else.

Zoro had warmed up to you more than he had some of the others.

There'd been an unspoken tension between you: lingering glances and touches mingled with flirtatious words and playful gestures.

He'd let you drag him into drinking contests (which you always lost), nap beside him, and even join his workouts.

And you'd always tease him (backing off immediately when you noticed that he had enough), and steered him in the right direction when he got horribly lost.

Like right now.

"Zoro, I'm pretty sure we have to go left here," you point out.

"I knew that," he grumbles and alters his course. "I was just scouting the area."

"Uh-huh."

"I was!"

Laughing, you hop onto a large fallen tree that blocks your path. You turn to taunt Zoro a bit more, but you pause as a loud shot rings out.

Sudden pain shoots through your leg as blood splatters around you. You crumble down off the log, saved from a hard landing by strong arms.

Stunned, you look up into Zoro's eyes.

"You're alright," he says firmly as he sets you down against the tree. "It just got you in the leg."

Dumbly, you stare into his face, barely registering his words or his angered expression.

"You stay here and I'll be right back."

You nod, unable to do much more. As you watch him leave, you meekly call out to him, "Don't you dare get lost."

He didn't get lost, to your immense surprise.

By now, the shock has worn off and the pain has really kicked in. The bullet went straight through the meat of your leg, luckily not shattering bone. But you will need Chopper to get a better look and bandage it properly.

Right now you're using a strip of your shirt as a makeshift bandage and it's already soaked through. As Zoro does a second assessment.

"You're fine."

You glare at him, "I'm in pain."

"You'll live."

"Good thing, cause if I didn’t I'd haunt your ass!"

Shaking his head, he crouches in front of you, "Can you walk at least?"

You level a deadpan stare at him.

He sighs heavily, "Guess I'll just have to carry you then."

"No, no way."

"It's either that or you walk."

"You need your hands to fight in case there's more enemies," you reason. "Can't use your swords if you're carrying me."

"I'll just set you down."

"No, you'd drop me. And I don't want to be dropped right now," you fire back.

He stands up straight and glares down at you.

"What if you carry me on your shoulders?" You suggest. "That way your arms will be free and you can still fight."

"Fine," he agrees.

You wince as you stand on your uninjured leg, motioning for him to bend down so you can get your legs on his shoulders. He obliges and you precariously manage to seat yourself on his shoulders.

He stands without a problem, steadying you with one hand on your thigh. Pain floods your sense for a second but it is quick to fade as you realize something.

You realize the extent of the compromising position you've put yourself in.

You're on top of Zoro's shoulders, hands on his head to steady yourself as he grips your thigh with his broad hand.

You flush with embarrassment. Beneath you, you can see the dusting of a blush across Zoro's ears and cheeks.

"Thank you for this," you say, unsure of what to do with your hands. The desire to run your fingers through his hair is immense and it takes all your will power to not act on it.

"I appreciate it, Zoro."

He grunts, "Just don't get injured again and we'll call it even."

"Hey, I didn't wanna be shot!"

"You made yourself an easy target!"

"I thought we were alone!"

"You should've known better!"

"I can't believe you're blaming me right now," you say in exasperating. "By the way, you're going north and the ship is to the south."

He grumbles beneath you but does switch his course to follow where you pointed. You wince every so often as he jostles you.

"Sorry," he says, very uncharacteristically.

Surprised, you lean over to stare into his face.

"For what?"

"I should've sensed that sniper but I was distracted," he grits his teeth in annoyance. "If I had seen him, you wouldn't have been hurt."

"Distracted?" You raise a brow, "You were distracted?"

"Don't-"

"Was it me that distracted you?" You grin, forgetting your pain. "Were you perhaps staring at me?"

"Forget I said anything."

"Too late! Admit it, you were checking me out."

His delightful blush is back in full force, "Was not! I was making sure you didn't fall."

You pat his cheek, "Well, you did catch me when I fell. And I guess I fell for you."

He stumbles slightly, making you laugh and cry out in pain at the same time.

"Watch your step Rorozo," you smack him lightly on the head.

"Don't call me that."

"Never," you run your hand over his hair, "I think you secretly like it."

He doesn't say anything and neither do you. Despite your injury, you are enjoying the moment of closeness between you and the swordsman.

It's moments like these that lighten your heart and bring a smile to your face.

His hand shifts over your thigh, "Maybe I do like it. This."

"Me?" You add softly, tracing patterns through his soft hair.

"Maybe."

"Well, maybe I do too," you bend down and press a kiss to his forehead. "Like you."

His hand tightens on your leg, his other hand coming up to caress your hair in a rare display of physical affection.

"Y'know, Sanji's gonna faint when he sees us like this," you chuckle, imagining his reaction.

"Maybe that stupid love-cook will finally leave you alone."

"Sanji? Stop fawning over a drop dead gorgeous woman? It's unlikely."

Zoro reads his head up to try and glare at you, making you wince as you jolt your injured leg.

"Don't worry Rorozo- I only have eyes for you."

At that confession, he stops in his tracks.

"That's it."

He lowers you to the ground, your confusion growing. Weren't you both on the same page just a second ago?

You're not on the ground for long though, as Zoro picks you up bridal-style and stares into your eyes.

"When you say things like that," he tsks, "I want to shut you up."

Before you can ask what he means, he presses his lips against yours, hard.

He breaks away far too soon, “That’s better.”

“If that’s how you’re gonna do it, you can shut me up anytime,” you grin, lean your head against him.

Wrapped up in his warm embrace, you’ve forgotten all about the pain in your leg…

Or the fact that Zoro is once again walking in the wrong direction.

#female reader #imagine #reader insert #x reader #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece reader insert #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #op zoro #zoro x reader #Zoro #pirate hunter zoro #fanfic #zoro x you #one piece zoro

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dawn-moths · 8 months ago

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Tomura x Reader

word count: 800+

(You try and convince Tomura to take a break from his games and come to bed at a reasonable time for once.)

disclaimer/content warning: no warnings apply! sfw, soft tomura, maybe quirkless au?? i don’t really know, i just love and miss him a lot and wanna take care of him.

***

It’s late— nearly two AM— and the glow of the moon trying to creep in through the gaps of the curtains competes with the glow emanating from the trio of computer screens currently in use in the other corner of the room.

“Tomu…” you murmur, half a groan and half a whine, as you turn over beneath the covers. “Come to bed…”

It’s so warm here, your body heat seeping through the sheets, the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing— one of his shirts, the soft black cotton displaying the fading decal of some game he used to like— clinging to your drowsy form like a veil of comfort and familiarity.

If you buried your nose in the collar, it still smelled faintly like him, despite you basically having claimed it for your own a few weeks back.

From across the room, Tomura sits before his three monitor display, the soft light from the screens shifting the colors cast across his face in a fast-paced rainbow, reds and blues and greens illuminating the pale waves of his hair.

It’s almost to his shoulders again. You’ll have to convince him to let you give it a trim soon.

“Tomuraaaaaa…” you whine a little louder, drawing his attention that time as he shifts his headset so only one ear is covered.

“Ok, just one more round,” he replies, something almost apologetic in his tone, no more irked grumbling or sarcastic attitude present like he used to respond to such a request in the past.

You basically had to drag him away from the computer, once upon a time. If you didn’t, he’d be playing right up until the sun was about to rise.

You rolled over onto your other side, facing away from the glow of the screens, letting your eyes fall closed once more, the constant mashing of buttons clicking softly to fill the otherwise silent room.

Whatever game he’s decided to log into tonight, the rounds are long. After ten minutes he’s still playing, one or two curses hissed out under his breath when his character takes a hit or someone else on his team messes up.

You turn again, squinting your eyes as they adjust to the light. Once the room becomes clear, you can see just how focused Tomura is. Like he’s locked in. Like he’s entranced. The way his fingers fly across every button and joystick of the controller like its second nature to him.

But it’s been nearly twenty minutes.

Enough is enough.

You sigh and rise from the warm comfort of the bed, padding over with bare feet to where he sits in his big gaming chair— a birthday present you’d surprised him with last year. He glances over at you for a split second, trying to conceal the slight guilt that pangs inside him.

“Make room…” you say, and he obliges, pushing back a bit from the desk so you can curl up against him, sharing your sated warmth with him in hopes of coaxing him to bed.

“Swear I’m almost done,” he says, shifting a bit to allow you to get comfortable, pressing your chest to his, legs straddling his waist, arms draped loosely around him as your head rests against his shoulder.

You can just barely hear the up-beat battle music muffled through his headset, the looping audio somehow making you even more tired despite the high-energy pulse of it.

Before long, you feel yourself dozing off again, that heavy, floating feeling of the moments right before you sink into sleep dripping through you like thick syrup, honey sweet.

Not two minutes after your body had gone slack and heavy against his own, the round ends and Tomura logs out of the game, one hand carefully pressed against your back to hold you in place as he leans slightly forward to place his controller on the desk. He puts his computer to sleep, the screens fading to black.

And now, it seems, it’s time for him to put you to sleep too.

You’re passed out, completely dead to the world, breathing slow and shallow, head beginning to loll as he carefully shifts to splay his big palms under your thighs, carefully lifting you as he stands, carrying you to the bed and placing you back among the rumpled sheets.

Once you’re all tucked in again, Tomura slips out of his jeans and puts on a fresh t-shirt— a habit you worked hard to instill in him, something about not sleeping in your day clothes or wearing your sleep clothes during the day— and then joins you under the covers, snuggling up next to you and gently cradling you in his arms.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before allowing his own eyes to fall shut, hoping to meet you somewhere in your dreams.

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erenjaegerwifee · 5 months ago

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Run Baby Run

Survive the Night: Day 2

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar!Reader x Lo'ak

Warnings: MDNI 18+, NON-CON, Fingering, predator/prey, explicit language, bondage, gagging, rough sex, biting/marking, mentions of bleeding/blood, blowjob, double penetration, anal

Word Count: 4.1k

✨Disclaimer: All of my characters are aged-up! Please if you are not comfortable reading them DO NOT INTERACT. However if you do at your own risk, any negative comments will be deleted and the tumblr will be blocked. Thank you!

Event Masterlist

The RDA just landed back on Pandora about one month ago. Only now did they decided to wake up all the avatars from cryo. They are meant to aid in finding new land to build the main outpost on. After all, they do want to be cautious this time around, it has been 20 years since the last time the humans have been on the green bioluminescent moon.

You walk with your group of four through the forest trying to find a clearing for the RDA to dig up and start building on. There were many groups that were given specific parts of the moon to map out, collecting data for future use as well. Unfortunately for you, your group was placed in the Omatikayan territory. In their forest

This section of the forest was not meant to be used as they will not interact well with humans after the last time they were around, which to you is understandable. What you do not account for is the predators that roam the forest. Your team consist of two ex-army soldiers, a scientist and a doctor, you.

Two big men with guns should be enough to keep you safe, but that just isn’t true on an unfamiliar planet. You skip over tree roots as you make your path through the dense bush, occasionally turning back towards your grow to make sure they are still close behind you.

You make jokes and laugh as you move through but everything comes to a stop when an arrow with green and yellow feathers hit the chest of one of your men. You watch his body drop to the floor and spin around looking in the direction of the arrow. However, the na’vi blend in amazingly with the surroundings, you don't see jack shit.

The other man holds his gun up aiming at his surroundings ready to shoot anything that moves. The scientist calls in for back up but no one answers, something must be jamming your signal. Thats so odd, how can something stop your communications this deep into the forest, one of the main features of the tech that was designed to be used on Pandora was it only have one specific device to jam communications like that, and only humans have it so how is it out here?

Your thoughts get cut short when the other man is shot in the back, arrow sticking out of his chest when he falls onto his front. You make eye contact with the scientist before your both becomes panicked, “Is your tracker on? You can back track it and go back to the ship” you ask her your tail sways anxiously in the air. “Yea I got it” she whispers and grips my hand as we look around. I give her hand a squeeze silently reminding her of the protocol we were supposed to follow.

If the group ever gets into an altercation, the remaining team is supposed to scatter into different directions, because the less people we lose, the better for the RDA. “Ready?” you glance at her seeing her nod, “Go!” you shout and run in the opposite direction from her. You run as fast as you can away from the na’vi even though you can’t see them. You have no intention of dying today.

You quickly make your way through the unfamiliar terrain, jumping over small logs and continuously running into big leaves. Honestly, it is upsetting you quite a bit at this point, are you not supposed to be taller? Why is everything hitting you in the face.

You are harshly pulled back to reality by the sound of heavy footsteps running after you. Not one pair, but two. ‘Fuck’ The adrenaline running through your body makes you pick up speed, as if that was even possible and you feel like you are flying in your feet. You don’t even take a second to look back, too scared at what you might see. The last thing you need is two giant blue creatures chasing you with knives.

In the distance you see a fallen tree ‘this must be the remains of hometree from all those years ago’ you beeline straight for it. ‘No way they would come in here this must be too painful for them.’ You didn’t take into consideration, some of the na’vi never had to go through the pain of losing hometree.

When you make it to the base of the tree, you glance behind you no longer hearing footsteps or seeing anyone, you still choose to hide out inside. The planet was getting darker but not so much that the bioluminescent effects came into view yet. When you walk in, as expected it is total darkness, besides the faint light that can be seen on the other end of the tree, which is now a tunnel. Grass has grown on the inside bottom of the tree and you are pretty sure you can make out the silhouette of vines handing from the top. You sit close to the entrance you came in and took the backpack off your back.

Rummaging through it to see if you have anything useful, you find a mini flashlight and some rope while you were searching for your tracker. But low and behold, nowhere in sight. It must have dropped out the side pocket while you were running but you didn’t want to risk going back out there, at least not yet.

After a about 3 minutes of sitting with your legs to your chest, arms wrapped around them. You hear shuffling outside; the rustling of leaves makes your nauseous. The footsteps are back, they found you? Oh no you are about to die. You put your head down in the space between you praying to every form of God you know, Eywa included for the great mother to spare your life.

When the sounds stop you raise your head and scramble to flick the flashlight on, pointing it outwards in front you. Your view is blocked however when 4 muscular, blue legs come into view less than a meter away they stand, just starting at you. You love the flash light up their bodies, taking note of the rock-hard abs and strong veiny arms on both na’vi men, but what scared you would have to be the grins they were sporting, fangs on full display.

The taller of the two was smirking down at you, his hair was braided and lose down his back, it was long properly as long as your hair. The other was ginning down at you sickeningly scary; his hair was also braided but pulled loosely into with a hair tie, a couple braids feel over one side of his face.

‘You’re about to die’

“Well well, brother look what we have here” the shorter one speaks up, he is speaking English, his tone was so condensing perfectly matching his facial expression. Yon only now realizes, this one has five fingers, like you.

“Please just let me go...” tears wield up in your eyes your vision becoming blurry as you look up at them from your sitting position, “I'll never come back to the forest again please” your eyes shift from one brother to the next trying to hit a soft stop somewhere but you know they most likely don't have one for anyone who is a part of the RDA but you still try.

“Lo’ak look at this, it is about to cry” the taller one chuckles darkly when he kneels down to your level, his four fingered hand comes up to your face swiping away the stray tears that fell down your face. The other man who you now learned is names Lo’ak, laughed at you.

“Such a nice little figure too huh bro” he replied they were still ignoring your pleads as the chuckled at your terrified form. He kneels down next to his brother and gripped your calf and pulling your leg harshly away from your body. You underestimate his strength when he pulls you and your entire body drags on the grass making you scream. Either way, he doesn't let go, only gesturing for his brother to pull on your other leg.

Your pleads get louder and you accidentally drop the flashlight, it hits a rock breaking the light so now its darker, safe for the new found bioluminescent vines and grass that have grown on around the fallen tree. They chuckle and laugh at your scared gasped as the area got darker. You launch forward at their hands on your legs and try to get out of their grip, but they were too strong.

You give up trying to pry their hands off you and opt for kicking and screaming instead, they grips did not falter but you try anyway. “Please, please let me go!” you shout out. The taller of the two speaks, “No I don’t think we’ll be doing that, so can you stop... It’s getting annoying” his voice is deep, stern. If you weren’t so frightened for your life, you might think it was hot. “Yea just relax a bit, and maybe we might let you go when were done” Lo’ak spoke.

“What? After what-” you were cut off by the taller pulling out a knife from the side of his loincloth and gripping your t-shirt at the top. “Wait!” you try to use both your hands to keep his hand away as you cry, “Eywa, Neteyam you are going to give the girl a heart attack, we can’t fuck a dead girl” he grins wickedly making Neteyam laugh. “WHAT?!” you scream, his words catch your attention and you loosen your grip on Neteyam’s wrist involuntarily giving him an opening to cut your top down the middle ripping it off. You pull your hands to cover your chest even though you were wearing a bra.

Both men effortlessly remove your hands from blocking the view as you squirm to get out of it, “Wait- I wait- Boys can’t we talk about this?” you try to reason with them but they ignore you once more. “She’s quite pretty, even when she cries, Lo’ak you did a good job picking this one” He tilts his head to the side to look at his brother before turning back towards your smaller form.

“Eywa yea, we are going to have so much fun with this one” Neteyam lets go of your wrist and moves to grab the rope that was sitting next to your backpack on the floor, “can’t do anything if her squirmy ass doesn’t stop moving.”

Lo’ak moves to sit behind you bringing your body flush to his chest holding both your wrist together in front of you. Neteyam straddles your legs so you can’t kick him away as he wraps the rope tightly around your wrist. He pulls it tightly making red angry marks appear on your blue skin, you whimper and try to pull away but you are a bit slow, fighting them will not get you out of this situation, they were faster and stronger than you, clearly well-trained warriors.

Neteyam waste no time cutting off your belt and unbuttoning your pants, while Lo’ak holds you still. He rids your body of everything but your undergarments and now you lay in between two massive native men tied up and half naked. Maybe if they weren’t threatening your life, you wouldn’t have such a big problem with this.

“Lo’ak look at this” he pulls your legs open wide for him, holding onto your skin so tightly, you were sure he would leave marks. Lo’ak moved from behind you now situated next to his brother pulling your legs further apart to see what his brother was seeing. A small wet spot, barely noticeable but it was there, “if I didn’t know any better, I'd say you like getting tied up and fucked Avatar.” Lo’ak chuckled, “and we haven’t even touched you yet” this brother spoke up as if they were finishing each other’s sentences.

You wiggle and squirm but nothing you do seems to stop their actions. Eventually your pleading starts to irritate them so, they pull off your underwear and stuff the fabric in your mouth muffling your protest and only laugh at you when you try to speak. Lo’ak’s fingers immediately move to your pussy, it wets his fingers when he runs them through your folds, Neteyam’s hands join his making you mewl in protest, you did not want to admit if it felt good.

Your thoughts are pushing away however by the feeling of 4 fingers being inserted at the same time. Your scream at the stretch and pain you feel, but it's muffled by the fabric. You shift trying to make yourself more comfortable but nothing helps. You cry out when they start taking turning pumping in and out of you, their fingers getting soaked up in your essence making it drip down into their palms.

Your back arches at you watch them stare at your private parts, practically entranced by the amount of slick they are getting out of you. Thanks to na’vi anatomy, you know the slick the women produce is much more and much thicker than that of humans, to accommodate the massive size of the males' genitalia. Your body betrays you when you feel yourself opening up for them to fuck into. You cry and whimper as they hit that amazing spot inside you that you could have never seems to reach.

“Please-” your voice is muffled and getting drier with every breath you take. “Please? Your begging? Fucking whore, what do you want huh? to cum you think you deserve that?” Both mean speak harshly to you but you can’t find it in yourself to decipher who said what. You aren’t even sure if you are begging to come or if you are begging for them to stop. Either way you continue your whimpering and pleading until you finally gush on their fingers.

This doesn’t stop them however, the don’t stop when you're thrashing in their grip but just smugly look towards you observing your overstimulation. Eventually they do give up and pull out of you, both men sticking their fingers in their mouth sucking off your excess juice. Honestly, the sight turns you on but you don’t want them to know that.

Your pulled to reality once more when they undo their loincloths simultaneously, cocks spring up into the air you glance back and forth between both men. They were fucking huge, you have only seen what the na’vi male genitalia look from photos but goddamn, its fucking huge, unless it’s just them. Neteyam ties his hair back into a half up half down hairstyle to get it out of his face, and Lo’ak pulls his knife out and cuts open your bra, exposing your breast to the cool air of the night.

Your tits bounce slightly and your nipples harden in the air, Lo’ak throws his knife aside before bringing his face down to bite and suck on them, you mewl as he does your head hits the ground under you and both your hands still tied together rest on his shoulder, your legs are pinned by his body but at this point, you have stopped fighting and ready to get over this.

It may be the only way to keep your life. Neteyam pushes Lo’ak off the bottom half of your body as he spreads your legs and pushes into you without any warning. You thought their fingers were much, you had no idea what you were in for. He doesn’t give you time to adjust when he bottoms out, but starts bulling his cock into you, you fuck you like he’ll never get the opportunity to fuck anyone ever again.

Your muffled screams meet their ears but they once again ignore you. Lo’ak grabs your thrashing tail in his hand and give it a firm yank making you yelp. He chuckles when your movements calm a bit due to the pain he just inflicted. His mouth moves away from your now purple swollen nipples and up to your neck. Neteyam bends down to the other side off your neck as he fucks into you and they both suck and kiss leaving deep purple marks. You just know it is going to look like someone strangled you.

You whimper and moan at the feeling of their fangs grazing your skin, what you don’t expect is when they bite down hard on your soft skin. You are once again screaming into the muffled fabric, your nails grip and scratch on one of their shoulders but you aren’t sure which one. You feel the warm blood running down your shoulder and neck, the bite hurts, but when they start lapping at your new wounds it becomes more bearable. They pay no mind to you as they continue biting and sucking on your skin, creating bite marks in their wake from your neck to your stomach.

Lo’ak pulls away from your body admiring their work and Neteyam starts grunting in your ear, he’s gonna come. The thought of him coming on your body sends you spiraling and you come on his cock not being able to hold it, his cock just feels so good fucking into you. When Neteyam releases he groans in your ear, you swear it is the sexiest thing you ever heard, you don’t even realize he come deep inside you before pulling out.

Your hole is gapping and both brothers watch the cum ooze out of you slowly. Lo’ak taking his fingers and pushes it back in, curling his fingers up to the stop Neteyam was just bruising with his cock, the feeling makes you whimper but it doesn’t last long.

Lo’ak lines himself up and pushes his cock into you now, you didn’t even get a second to rest. He doesn’t wait much like his brother when he starts pounding you into the floor. You moan and mewl as he fucks into you, almost as hard as his brother but not quite that much.

Neteyam moves to kneels next to your face, cock hanging heavy over your eyes as you watch him stroke it up and down. This are by far the sexiest men you have ever been with, and the stamina, you aren’t even sure you can keep up but you are sure they are gonna cut you until you pass out.

He taps his cock head on your lips before pulling your underwear out from your mouth and throwing it to the side, with the rest of your forgotten clothes. he grabs your hair on the top of your head and pull your lips over the head of his cock, he thrust into your mouth pulling your head to meet his thrust and throws his head back while he does it, feeling your tongue trace the veins on his cock. When you near your next release you moan around him, sending vibrations through his body. Your anils now dig into his muscular thigh as you try to find something to hold on to. When you do gush on Lo’ak’s cock, he follows not far behind cumming inside you with a sweet moan, it's almost submissive the way he throws his head back.

After he comes down from his high and pulls out, he stares at your pussy watching your gaping hole pulse and clench around nothing. He pulls his eyes away from the sight and watches you suck on his brother’s cock; he strokes his cock that is already hardening again and speaks to him in na’vi, saying something you didn’t understand.

Neteyam smiles down at you wickedly as he pulls you up and away from his cock. “Get up evenge (girl)” he says as he pulls you to stand up by your hair. You have no idea what they said but it was so hot listening to them speak in their native tongue. When you are pulled up, your knees buckle almost instantly and you fall forward on to Lo’ak. He barely moves, standing strongly and catches you in his arms.

He lifts you like you weigh nothing and your legs come to wrap around his thin waist as he brushes stray hairs off your sweaty face. Neteyam comes and press his chest up against you’re back and pushing your chest into Lo’ak’s. You have no energy to hold yourself up so you rest your head on his shoulder. Your eyes feel drowsy and you blink slowly.

“Ever had anything up in here sevin (pretty)?” Neteyam ask you while his fingers brush over your puckering ass hole, he drags your mom mixture of cum down to the hole and push one of his fingers in. “No! No please” you feel as if all the tiredness left your body when you jump up trying to get away from his touches but Lo’ak holds you tightly.

You should have known this was a trap, they were nice to you for no reason when they picked you up like a baby, you should have known they wanted to do something. Neteyam reaches around your body and cut the rope that was bounding you. Your wrist now sported red ligature marks about 3 inches thick, they really made sure you wouldn’t get away.

All your fussing was for nothing when his finger squeezes into your tight hole deeper, your hands fly to Lo’ak’s back and you grip him as if he could somehow save you. Your nails dig into his skin when Neteyam inserts another finger pumping it a few times before you relax and he pulls out. Lo’ak inserts himself into your overstimulated cunt bottoming out inside you, but this time he didn’t move.

Neteyam lined his cock head up to your other whole pushing it inside slowly, you felt both of their cocks touch inside you even though it’s in different holes. You head falls back on Neteyam’s shoulder as you babble and plead for them to stop. You hit and scratch at loak while tears fall down your cheeks as you cry your cute ‘nos’ and ‘please stops’.

They find it sweet how much you are still trying to fight them down and not getting anywhere. When Neteyam bottoms out in your tight hole, you breath heavily as you try to adjust to him. When Lo’ak starts moving Neteyam slowly follows and their cocks move the way their fingers did earlier, they take turns thrusting into you. You cry and plead for them to ‘go slow’ but they pay you no mind, only wrapped up in their own pleasure.

Eventually they are pounding into you, eyes shut tightly as you feel yourself loosen up enjoying the feeling of both men inside you. One particular thrust has you moaning loudly and they continue hitting that sweet spot. You blabber out nonscience bouncing up and down on both cocks, you have never been stretched out like this before, you’ve never been fucked like this before.

Your mouth agape trying to catch your breath as they use you to chase their own orgasms, the words they spew at you goes in one ear and out the other, you cannot even make out what they are saying, you aren’t even 100 percent sure they were speaking English. When you do cum on Lo’ak’s cock it's with a loud wail, you feel your own cunt pulse, gripping him inside you triggering his orgasm and Neteyam shortly after stuffing you full in both holes making you pass out in between their bodies.

When you awake you feel a warm body wrapped around yours as you lay on a soft blanket. You observe your surroundings and see Lo’ak sitting a couple feet to the side of you in what looks like a hut, which means Neteyam is curled around you. You raise your head confused as to why you are here, they never killed you, but they also never took you home. You hear the distinct sound of chains moving when you try to stretch your foot and you realized. They have you chained like some kind of vicious dog by your ankle, attached to pole in the center of the hut.

“Ah you are awake avatar, what is your name?” Neteyam’s chest rumbles as he speaks to you. “I'm not telling you” you feel like you throat was scratching as you swallow some no existent spit. Lo’ak hands you a cup of water and you chug it, “name girl” he says sternly. “y/n” you mumble.

“Oh, that’ll fit perfectly on your new collar” he gestures to the piece of fabric he was planning on sewing your name into. You aren’t ever getting away from them.

✨ I hope you enjoyed reading! Likes, reposts and comments are always appreciated!

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