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alltheirdamn · 8 months ago

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Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS

Masterlist

You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye.

“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room.

You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth.

“I’m sure he will, honey.”

Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once.

The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder.

Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath.

Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you.

“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled.

“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”

“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you.

“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied.

Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck.

“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in.

The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you.

“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen.

The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry.

Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes.

“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice.

“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”

“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed.

He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you.

“It’s good?” You asked.

“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite.

Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork.

“Delicious, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth.

Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his.

“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.

He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”

His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.

“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”

“Please,” you choked.

“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.

“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.

He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong.

Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor.

“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled.

You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?

With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher.

“Louder,” he ordered.

You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings.

“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?”

You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck.

“Answer me, little one,” he snapped.

“Y–Yes,” you muttered.

Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher.

His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart.

“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted.

He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate.

“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp.

He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it.

“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you.

“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”

Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet.

“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”

You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare.

“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth.

You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety.

Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you.

“Pathetic,” he mumbled. “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”

You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip.

“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”

He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread.

You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved.

“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen.

Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards.

“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms.

His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”

Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there.

Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare.

“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried.

His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine.

“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”

Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him.

“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned.

He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean.

“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”

The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips.

“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”

Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left.

“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained.

You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax.

“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged.

“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest.

“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word.

“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled.

Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress.

The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach.

“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed.

You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.

#dark!joel x reader #dark!preacher!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #dubious consent #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #no outbreak au #dub con #non con #religion!kink

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vivwritesfics · 8 months ago

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Idk if you got this already but,

Rooster with a western rider gf (this is my first time doing this sorry if this is bad)

-🐎(also if no one has taken horse can i)

YES OFC YOU CAN BE HORSE OMG I LOVE THIS (i'm an english rider and my western rider knowledge is little to none lol)

The rest of the Dagger Squad didn't know all that much Rooster's girl. They knew she was slightly younger, knew he saw her as often as she could.

She had never been to The Hard Deck, had never met any of the other naval aviators. It was always Bradley driving his Bronco to see her.

He sat in The Hard Deck, had one single beer with his friends, with Pheonix, Hangman, Bob and the rest of them. "When are you going?" Asked Jake, pointing the pool cue towards him as Bradley walked away.

He grinned and pushed his sunglasses over his eyes. "I'm going to see my girl," he said and walked out of The Hard Deck.

The other aviators watched him go. Only Nat smiled. Only Nat believed him. The rest of them didn't voice it as they went back to their game of pool, but they didn't think Rooster's girl was real. If she was, surely they would have met her.

They didn't know just how busy she was.

But Bradley knew. As he drove down the driveway, past the fields of horses, he knew just how busy she was.

He parked the car outside of the barn and climbed out. Bradley's first stop was always the barn. He walked in, walking over to Chief. The chestnut horse stood with his head over the stable door, whinnying when he saw Bradley.

"Hey, Chief," he muttered, stroking the white stripe down his face. "Where is your mom?"

Chief searched through his pocket. He nosed Bradley's jeans before chewing on his Hawaiian shirt. But Bradley quickly pulled himself from Chiefs mouth without too much damage to the shirt.

It was at that moment when she walked into the barn, a sandy coloured horse behind her. "Hey!" She called as she walked the horse into a stable and shut the door behind her. She hung the rope over the door and ran through the barn, jumping into Bradley's arms.

He held her easily, his hands under her ass. She pulled her hat from her head and kissed him. "Miss you, Roos," she whispered against his lips.

"I missed you too," he said and put her down. As soon as she was on the floor, she took her hat and placed it on Bradley's head. It was one of his favourite things about coming to her farm.

"Are you ready for dinner?" He asked, taking her hand and slowly walking her out of the barn.

She bit her lip, her expression almost guilty. "I will be, Bradley. I just gotta bring in Circe and Linda in from the top fields, throw hay into the back fields, and get changed."

"Anything I can help with?" Bradley asked. He always did ask. A rather large part of him loved working on her farm, loved helping where he could. He wasn't born to be a cowboy, but a cowgirl's husband.

She fished a set of keys from her pocket. "Wanna drive the tractor?"

She knew that was Bradley's favourite part. They loaded the tractor trailer with bales of hay and Bradley set off with her in the passenger seat.

Bradley knew exactly where to go. He'd driven the trails around the fields enough times. He took the tractor to the first of the back fields and stopped.

He jumped out of the tractor and immediately grabbed the bale of hay before she could. "Bradley," she groaned and he put the bale back down. Just so that he could take off his Hawaiian shirt, flex his muscles as he threw the bale into the field.

Immediately, the horses came running. She climbed into the field and cut the twine away from the hay, putting it into the pocket.

They did this for two more fields before Bradley drove her up to the top field. She climbed out of the tractor and walked over to his side. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him again. "Should I meet you at the barn, Cowboy?" She asked as she flicked the brim of the hat, tipping it up slightly.

"You got it, Cowgirl," he said and kissed her, his moustache brushing her top lip. She loved it more than anything. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, wearing the Hawaiian shirt, the feel of his moustache, she loved it.

When she climbed into the field, Bradley drove off. He drove around the fields while she grabbed a hold of the two horses she needed to bring in. "Come on, ladies," she said as she walked them to the gates, taking them to the barn.

Bradley waited at the barn, just as she had asked him to. He leaned against the tractor, the keys in his hand as she walked past with Linda and Circe.

Even while she had the horses, she stopped and kissed him. "Almost done," she promised, taking the hat from his head and placing it back on her own.

Bradley watched her go, watched her walk into the barn and walked Linda and Circe into their stables. She gave them their prepared feed and walked back over to Bradley.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning against him, he slipped the keys into her pocket and held her hips. "Almost ready to go," she said, grinning up at him.

Bradley frowned down at her. "But you look gorgeous already," he said, kissing the inside of her wrist. "C'mon, let me take you out for dinner."

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader smut #rooster #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster smut #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #🐎nonnie

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ledgerserious8 · 9 months ago

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The Bat Is Sick | Bruce Wayne (Bale) & Reader

Warning : Don't copy my writing Don't steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing

Genre : Fluff Sickness

Summary : Your boyfriend Bruce is sick and he need you to come back..

Word count : 1.9k

The mission you had made you left Gotham city from two days and suddenly without Bruce knowing it because you made a deal with James Gordon to not tell him

You wanted to try something new because Bruce had always helping you and saving you by his batsuit and mask but you want to be a hero by your own character too

Not just batman sidekick

Alfred was worried about the high temperature of Bruce, Bruce can't help but keep sweating and trying to catch some breath

Alfred left his room and told all the maids about Bruce heath was sick and asking them to "take care of the master"

He was needing for you as his girlfriend to come and put all his pain off and he know you can take care of him too well

Alfred getting outside the Wayne manor and he noticed you walking in the streets as your costume and gloves covering by the snow and a little blood against your mouth

"Ma'am Y/n it's me alfred" - Alfred Called you as walking faster towards you

"Alfred what happened?" - You asked the butler worriedly as trying to enter the Wayne manor

"Master Bruce is getting sick ma'am. He needs you right now" - Alfred explained worriedly

Alfred looked towards Wayne manor then looked back at you as The whole mansion is lit up

"Please hurry up before it's getting worse" he added softly but sadly as looking at you like a father want to help his son

You nodded silently as smiling warmly and you started walking upstairs and forget to even wipe the blood from your mouth because all the matter now is Bruce..

You stopped in your steps and wiped the little blood, Bruce when he get sick he becomes so clingy like a little baby and he want to get all the love that his parents didn't give enough

Your hand knocked the door of his room gently and decided to wait

There's no response but just a huge sound of heavy breath coming from inside but A long and a loud breathing filled the room

You knocking again made the breathing sound stopped as you heard a sudden rustle sound coming from inside

"Come in" - he whispered tirelessly as lying on his big white bed and covers

You opened the door gently and smiled at him warmly but inside your heart you was so worried about him

Bruce's eyes widen as noticed you and without everything can say, that bat forget his sickness by running to you

Bruce wrapped his both strong arms around you so tight and don't want to let go

"I was about losing you" - Bruce whispered softly against your ear

"But you won't" - you replied softly as hugging his big strongly body back

Your presence took out all his pain away from him as He couldn't stop from hugging you tightly as tears filling his eyes was watching you.

He just couldn't help it from all the fear he felt within him

"I missed you so much love" - Bruce whispered softly as pulling you towards his chest gently and cupped your face

"I missed you so much my love" - he added again as kissing the top of your head

"I missed you too more than anything else" you confessed as smiling at him

There's not even a single energy left inside his body

A long sigh left through his mouth then he whispered - "I love you more then everything else"

You hugged him so tightly as The tears slowly dropping off from his eyes as he buried his face on your shoulder and just couldn't even move an inch

He was so tired from all the tension and the long stressful period he had during the last days

The warmth of your body made his whole pain disappear and just relaxed deeply inside your arms and He just can't stop feeling the presence of you breath next to his face

"You were out during last few days. I didn't know if you was okay or not" - The Black haired man whispered to you softly.

"I'm so sorry dear but I really was in mission and James didn't keep his promise" - You explained your side of the story calmly as meaning James told Bruce about your mission and didn't keep it secret

He was holding you hands within his hands now, His eyes kept looking at yours but his head just didn't make an angle up to see your face completely

"I know but I didn't have the right to be in peace without you by my side" he whispered in deep sadness and disappointed in his voice

You know that tone of his voice was because of you, you hide a big mission from your boyfriend that mission was so dangerous and could kill you

Just because you want to try something else and new

You cupped his face and His body starts trembling by you touch towards him again.

Your kisses on his face as apologizes made your presence warm inside his cold body

His hands were caressing your beautiful body gently as your lips continue kissing him on his lips and Your lips was everywhere on his face and he was enjoying every inch of it

"I can't bare your absence from my side love" - he whispered as your lips moves on his face towards his lips again.

Your arms touching his shoulders and your touch on his body was making his breath even heavier as your lips keep kissing his lips

All the pain and all the stress was going away as you kept on caressing his shoulders all over.

He was holding your arms tightly, pressing them tightly and holding it tight around him trying to make you touching him everywhere

"I love you" - he whispered lovingly but happily as you keep on kissing his lips gently like kissing a baby.

"I love you too" - You whispered back between the kiss softly, you can feel him started smiling

Your fingers walked through his hair was making him in a whole different level of happiness

The kissing on his lips was so gentle but passionately that he could spend hours just for this very second without getting bored

Your words towards him kept his heart pumping more and more and his breath heavier and hotter and you started kissing his neck and ear

"Promise me you won't go out from Wayne manor without telling me" - he whispered as he started on enjoying your kiss on his neck

"I promise" - You whispered against his ear making him melting by your voice

His body became soft from the kisses on his neck by your mouth

He tried to keep himself as a tough and strong man but your touch is making him melting into a soft orphan man like a baby

"Promise me you will never disappear from my life" - he asked you again as your hands was caressing the side of his body

The smell of your perfume was so sweet that he gets attracted towards it and wanted to keep you in his arms forever

"I promise on my life" - You replied calmly as stopped and looked into his eyes

It sounded very heavenly when you speak those words towards him

Every inch of his body was shaking by those words of commitment towards you, His heart was pounding very fast now and his chest is rising up and down rapidly

He pulled you head slightly towards him as if he is about to kiss you lips again but he stopped..

Instead he looked deeply into your eyes and asked you - "promise me you will be next to my side forever?"

"I promise, but now The bat is sick and I need to take care of him" - you explained teasingly as smirking charmingly

The words you was saying was getting inside his ears like waves hitting the shore

Your touch over his cheeks was making him feeling the warmness inside him as you keep on caressing his face gently

Your fingers was running through his hair gently and touching his ears slightly

"Take care of me as in how?" - he asked you playfully as he was looking into your eyes and smiling at you.

"Well I have my own ways" - You replied shortly but teasingly

"No, it's not that bad of a temperature" - he explained and his response was with a smiling face

"I'm feeling all fine and good love" - he kept on smiling as he keep on looking at you face.

The truth is he's feeling extremely bad and he is so tired but your touch over his body and face gave him strength and energy once again

Your presence was actually the best medicine for him.

"What you think I'm sick of?" - he asked you curiously and softly

You keep silent but your eyes give him that look who had a words saying "Bruce stop lying"

You was seeing through his weak lie, that's a fact because you knew him very well

He was looking at your eyes while you was giving him a worried look and asking him for the truth

He had a sick look on his face but didn't want to admit it, A long sigh left his mouth and as his face changed from a happy to a sick face

"Okay fine, I'm sick" - he whispered softly as his eyes lowered down to avoid eye contact with you.

"It's okay alfred told me but now let me take care of you" - you explained to him as sitting him on the edge of the bed

The fact that Alfred informed you about the status of his health made him feel little bit better inside

The smile on your face and the warmth of your body is the best thing that could happen to his stressed mind

No matter the amount of pain he feels inside, your touch is the medicine he needed

"How you gonna take care of me?" - he asked with soft voice while he was looking back to your eyes

"As I said I have my own ways" - you replied teasingly as smirking at him

For some unknown reason nobody know but the both of you as the way you was smiling was attracting him towards you

He know what your own ways are but he's waiting to see it happening so he decided to play dumb

He was watching you keep smiling while his eyes was searching all over her body while you was moving around him and getting on his lap

"So you going to take care of me or not?" - Bruce asked you in a playful and a teasing way as his eyes back at yours.

"Of course I will" - You whispered to him as your face was close to his

The way you was making him waiting is building up a lot of tension inside him

The close feeling and the fact that he can sense your breath made him even more attracted towards you as His whole body was craving for a touch

His mouth was also feeling hot from the closeness you was putting him within you.

His whole body is ready to explode with the tension that you're causing all over him

"I don't like waiting my love" - he whispered as he moved his face very close to yours

As soon you moved your lips to meet his, his whole body was shaking with the intensity of his desire towards you

He pulled your body towards him more and tried to hold on to you tightly as you took all his emotions by the kiss

He was enjoying the passion in you kiss and the affection he was getting from it was so intense

He never wanted the kiss to end as he kept on kissing you lips softly but so passionately

The touch of your lips on his lips was so soft that made him felt heaven itself inside his heart

All that stress and pain was melting away instantly as your lips keep touching his

The tension that was being built inside him, is now getting released as his lips is kissing yours.

He was enjoying every second of it while your kisses were going deeper and deeper than he expected

You will take a good care of him and he know it, you will always be ready when..

The Bat Is Sick

#actors #celebrities #christian bale x reader #bruce wayne christian bale #christian bale #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knight rises #imagines #bruce wayne batman #Bruce Wayne bale #reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months ago

Text

I've been dreaming of the Plotting Serpent.

A Sorcerer in the Sands seeks something far bigger than himself. Freedom, sweet freedom.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Bundled up in several layers, Jamil makes his way down a twisting path and into an open market.

The ground crunches softly under his boots. His breath is chilled, turning into a fleeting fog as he exhales. He retreats to the comfort and safety that his bulky coat provides, watching bales of white lazily drift down around him.

Snow instead of sand—imagine that.

The market operates straight out of the town square. From a vantage point--his temporary housing upon a hill--he can see the entirety of it, all the stalls forming a circle. The market is, by no means, large—but it has the spirit of something grander. The banter, the bartering.

Not so different from the bazaars at home.

Jamil ducks in, taking his time to pace around to each vendor. He’s agile and bright, like a child first viewing the moon and rushing to catch it in his palms.

Most sellers—and most customers—are elderly, gnarled like the roots of a tree. The cold colors their rounded cheeks the same red as many of the apples on display.

There’s pink and yellow and green too, and other fresh produce. The majority of it, he is told, is grown in Harveston. Others are foraged from Mt. Moln—nuts, plants, berries, and mushrooms.

Other stalls offer already manufactured goods. Scarves and gloves to protect against the winter, steaming apple drinks and sweetly spiced snacks, toiletries lovingly handcrafted with botanical oils.

His eyes light up with interest. He stops to inspect a row of shampoo and conditioner bars.

Feel free to touch and smell! says a sign at the stall.

He does, testing the weight of a bar in his hand. It is light and has an easy slip to it, and gives off the faint aroma of apples. Slightly tart and juicy.

It'll be good to have on hand, especially when it weighs less than liquid variants. The sign says these bars are made with apple seed oil, an ingredient that treats split ends and dryness while restoring a shine...

He absentmindedly feels the ends of his hair. The locks are normally dark and glossy, but the cold has not treated them well, leaving them slightly dry and brittle.

That's the cost of travel. It can be difficult to predict how my skin and hair react to different climates.

“Excuse me,” Jamil calls out to the stall owner, “I’d like to buy one of these shampoo bars, please. One in the conditioner bars as well."

“Sure thing!!” The owner wraps up the bars and slides them over. As Jamil hands him a few bills, he pipes up. “Say, yer not from ‘round here, are ya, sonny?”

“Yes. I am but a traveler.”

“Traveler!” The owner’s eyebrows shoot up. “Real fancy livin’ ya must have."

“No, not at all. I try to live humbly and travel light.” Jamil indicates his backpack, the one piece of luggage that follows him wherever he goes.

"That so? Not many young folk visit these parts." The owner strokes his rounded chin in contemplation. "I figured ya must be on yer way to the city. A lot more for youngins to see 'n do there."

“I beg to differ. The village has shown me incredible hospitality during my stay. Delicious foods, friendliness... I can enjoy Harveston's natural sights without worry. I'm content with just that."

With each word that leaves his lips, he feels the weight that has been on his shoulders lifting.

Jamil, you're free, the wind seems to whisper. The realization is intoxicatingly sweet and crisp, the first bite taken from a forbidden fruit.

"Aww, that warms mah heart ta hear ya say," the owner beams. "Yer a good kid, yer parents would be proud of ya."

"My... parents?" Jamil falters at the mention of them.

His parents are back home. His sister, too. Najma had texted not long ago, pestering him about bringing her a souvenir and asking when he’d be back.

His family is waiting for him. And... who else is there?

Jamil's brows furrow. Suddenly, he feels as though someone should be beside him, and he, trailing after them. A hopeless person buying up all the stalls, shoveling new dish after new dish at him.

"Here, try this, Jamil! Oooh, and this! That looks super tasty, have some too! And this cracker!"

"Where did you get all this food from?! There's no way we'll be able to feasibly finish this before it goes bad. Why do you never listen to me, Ka..."

A growl rips from his stomach. Jamil's eyes widen, and his face heats.

The stall owner's laugh cuts through his confusion. "Gahahah! Ya hungry there, son? Here, lemme grab ya somethin' on the house."

"Oh no, sir, I can't accept that."

"I insist!! Won't be long 'fore ya mosey on outta here and move on ta the next place. Eat yer fill while yer here, there ain't nothin' like a homegrown Harveston meal or snack anywhere else in Twisted Wonderland!"

The owner rustles with utensils behind the stall, He fills a container with a generous slice of pie--oozing with apple filling--and fluffy pancakes, plus a few potstickers. Then he pours hot tea, apple cubes bobbing in the spiced brown liquid, into a paper cup.

Jamil gets a whiff of it from where he stands and--against his better judgment, his mouth waters. When the owner hands him the container, cup, and a wooden fork, he doesn't refuse them.

"Remember us ‘n all the fun times ya spent here."

"Thank you, sir." Jamil bows his head. "I will. I'll never forget your kindness."

"Don't 'cha mention it. Go on 'n git now, ya got plenty more of the village to visit!""

Jamil departs with his purchase and his gifts, which he immediately settles into.

Lifting the paper cup to his lips, he sips his tea. It's deep and tangy from the cinnamon and apples it has been brewed with. He pleasantly warms from head to toe.

It isn't long before he downs the rest of the drink, apple cubes and all. They're not fresh, but dried--so when his teeth slices them into halves, they're springy and chewy, with a strong flavor.

Jamil lowers the cup, dragging out a satisfied sigh.

It's then that he realizes he's walking directly into a black wall. He veers sharply to the right, but still brushes his arm against that of the incoming person.

“Pardon me. I wasn't watching where I was going...” Jamil looks back, but is startled to find no one where his shoulder has made contact.

Hm? Was I imagining things?

Jamil glances around the marketplace. The crowd is too sparse for him to miss anyone. There are grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, each dressed in thick coats and boots, some wrapped in scarves and others sporting fuzzy hats or earmuffs.

But no one is wearing all black.

He shakes his head.

It was probably nothing then.

Jamil returns to browsing the square, his every stride as light as a feather. He feels as though he is dancing atop the snow.

The cold no longer bothers him.

The wind, carrying a new message that resonates with his heart. It seems stronger now, rumbling like a deadly avalanche.

"Be free, Viper. Be free."

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year ago

Text

VIII ║ Silver Pony

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 7: Fleabitten | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 9: Warmblood }

Rating: E

Summary: And just like that, your week at the Statesman Ranch comes to an end, leaving you grappling with the prospect of saying goodbye to Jack.

Warnings: Mentions of food and cooking, angst, feelings, grief, flirting, insecurities, very light soft!dom overtones, sexual innuendoes, risky unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), dirty talk, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7.5k

Notes: Here we are, the penultimate chapter of Palomino. I had the last scene in mind since the very beginning of the series, actually putting it into words has been so emotional. Thank you as always for your patience and your love for this series, I'm eternally grateful that you're still with me as we wrap up this beautiful journey cowboy Jack and his Darlin' started almost a year ago ❤️

P.S. Please excuse typos and any mistakes as I had very little time to edit with the husband ill this weekend.

Coaxing Scotch to a halt at the end of the track - the last lookout point before the trail slopes downhill and homeward - you let the leather reins slip long and loose as he stretches his neck and shakes out his mane with a low nicker.

A hundred feet drop below, between the palomino’s ears turned forward in anticipation, is the Statesman Ranch in all its glory, nestled in the fertile valley of green pasture, with its winding creek and red roofs. You can see tiny people milling about, the stables busy in the middle of the afternoon, and horses grazing in the fields bracketed by white picket fences.

Out of the corner of your eye, Whiskey comes to a stop next to you, close enough that your knee bumps into Jack’s.

You keep your gaze on the ranch below as you ask half-jokingly, ‘Is it too late to turn back now?’

He chuckles, and you twist towards him, your own lips curling. ‘I believe we had this exact same conversation the first day, darlin’.’

It’s not too late to back out, you know.

Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me now, cowboy.

You don’t even realise you’ve fallen quiet until his calloused hand slides over yours, fingers tangling together. Jack brushes a sweet kiss to the heart of your palm that goes right to the one in your ribcage.

He cocks his head to one side in a gentle question. ‘Shall we rip off the bandaid, darlin’?’

Knowing there’s no other way around it, you squeeze his hand. ‘Let’s go, cowboy.’

Jameson is the first to spot the five of you passing through the backgates. The sight of him zooming up the slope with his ears pinned back in excitement has you laughing, the horses nickering hello as his barks echo in the valley.

It makes no sense really - you barely know this place after all - but something inexplicably comforting and familiar tugs at your insides as you ride through the ranch. Stable hands call out to Jack in friendly greeting and to you with polite ma’ams, between bales of hay being loaded, saddles and tack polished, and the clang of steel on iron from the farrier’s workstation out back. All the while, Jameson trots faithfully by your side, as if he’s known you all his life.

‘You sure know how to make a girl feel special,’ you coo at him and he barks back, tail wagging.

Jack winks at you and says cryptically, ‘Well, you’re about to feel a lot more special, darlin’.’

Sure enough, when the horses clop into the main stable yard, your jaw drops.

‘Look what the cat dragged in!’ bellows Champ with a huge grin on his face, standing in front of the stable doors with hands on his hips, larger than life than ever.

You chortle at the huge Welcome Back! banner stretched over the barn door, complete with over-the-top cowboy themed helium balloons, bumping into each other in the afternoon breeze. You catch Jack rolling his eyes fondly at the scene.

Champ gives Scotch an affectionate ruffle on the mane as he comes to a halt by the wooden post. ‘So - how was it, m’dear? Was it everythin’ I promised it would be?’

‘Everything and more,’ you answer in the affirmative as you dismount, letting him pull you in for an enthusiastic hug.

‘That’s what I like to hear!’ he beams and pats the palomino soundly on the rump. ‘And Scotch? Was he a good boy?’

‘The bestest boy,’ you gush, throwing your hands around the horse’s neck in a hug. ‘He deserves all the carrots and apples in the world.’

Swinging his leg over the back of Whiskey’s saddle and landing gracefully on booted feet on the opposite side of the post, Jack quips, ‘But you’ve already fed him all the carrots and apples in the world.’

Champ chortles. ‘And what about our cowboy? Was he on his best behaviour?’

Jack points a self-righteous finger at his boss. ‘I’ll have you know our guest rated the pack trip a perfect ten out of ten, so I’ll be expectin’ an immediate raise. Ain’t that right, darlin’?’

A loud scoff coming from the stables turns your head, and you smile when Tequila emerges, wasting no time taking his aim at Jack. ‘Hold your horses, Daniels. Pretty sure the food poisonin’ knocks a few points off!’

Crossing the yard with his usual swagger, he sidles up to the other side of Scotch and tips his hat at you, leaning his elbows on the saddle. ‘Welcome back, sweetheart. Good to see you up and runnin’.’

You bite your lip at the mischievous wink he tosses your way.

Champs harrumps indignantly. ‘You have some nerve askin’ for a raise, son! Poppy was madder than a wet hen she heard about that. As you well know, she expects a full report at dinner tonight.’

Jack huffs in jest. ‘I’m puttin’ in a call to my attorney as we speak.’

The banter is spirited and relentless as the cowboys make quick work of untacking and unloading the horses, Champ insisting you shouldn’t lift a finger and talking for more than the three of you.

When the stable hands take away the last of the bags with your dirty laundry to be laundered, Jack takes a hold of both Whiskey and Bourbon. Clearing his throat, he seems to hesitate for a second, a tick in his jaw, but he eventually nods at you and says, ‘Well. I best be bringin’ the boys in now. Catch you later, darlin’.’

The bottom of your stomach gives out at the catch you later, darlin’, knocking the breath clean out of you, unprepared for the dread that courses through your veins like lead at the sudden prospect of being apart. Your fingers twitch with urgency, wanting to reach out, grab him by the front of his shirt, and cling to him -

Get a grip, woman.

You physically shake yourself out of it, and instead, try to bide your time. ‘Or, you know, if can I help with anything at all -’

Jack clearly catches on to your reluctance, but Champ is insistent. ‘Absolutely not! Now, it’s just gettin’ to four o’clock, so there’s plenty of time to go back to your room, clean up and join us for sunset drinks in a couple of hours. How does that sound, ma’am?’

Jack’s mouth stretches into a reassuring smile that you wish were imprinted into the skin of your forehead instead. With a promise in his eyes that it’ll only be a couple of hours, he leads the chestnut and pinto into the stables.

You don’t even try to hide the slump in your shoulders and your wistful, lingering gaze on the cowboy’s retreating back, nearly jumping out of your skin when Tequila gives you an almost brotherly pat on the shoulder over Scotch’s back. ‘I gotcha, girl.’

Speaking up, he calls out, ‘Hey Champ, Ginger was just tellin’ me that you got an urgent message from Harry, so you better give him a call back - you know how he gets when you don’t.’

The older man flinches dramatically at the mention of his accountant, flinging his hands up in frustration. ‘Damn distillery is more trouble than it’s worth! I better go - you remember your way back to your cabin, young lady?’

Before you can get a word out, Tequila cuts in, ‘Jack can show her the way if she doesn’t, I’m sure.’

The sly reference goes straight over Champ’s head as he bustles off, but not without a polite tip of his hat. Once he’s out of sight, you smile at the cowboy. ‘I appreciate that, Teak.’

He winks at you and spins on his heels to take Scotch to the washing bay. ‘Consider it part of our excellent service at the Statesman Ranch, sweetheart!’

You find Jack hatless in Bourbon’s box, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, slick with sweat, when you slip in and shut the door quietly behind you.

‘Whatcha doin’, darlin’?’ he asks with a lopsided smile.

Even though you didn’t run into anyone on your way in, you glance around to make sure you’re alone before grabbing him by the open neck of his shirt and tugging him into you. One palm on his cheek, rough with the stubble starting to peek through since his last shave at the Halfway House, you press your lips to his, blood thrumming with the thrill of sneaking around.

You catch the hitch of his breath with a wet suck on his bottom lip and he groans - too loudly in the mid-afternoon quiet. Cheeky hands wander south and grab you shamelessly by the ass, his tongue questing deep into your mouth, and you can feel him hardening against your stomach, drawing a whimper from you.

Pulling back reluctantly, his nose still on yours, he growls. ‘Such brazen behaviour.’

Your tongue darts out and swipes the underside of your upper lip, drunk on the taste of him, and his dark gaze follows. ‘I think you like it, cowboy.’

‘Too fuckin’ much,’ he admits with a pained moan and a chaste kiss to your temple, nose in your hair, as if to calm himself down. ‘You should go clean up, I need to finish up here and you’re distractin’ me.’

You pout, laying your cards on the table. ‘But I miss you.’

His gaze warms at your admission, and he stoops to kiss you again. ‘I know, but it’s only for a little while, okay? I’ll come ‘round your room to pick you up at six.’

‘Fine,’ you reply begrudgingly. ‘Be quick, ok?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he teases and swats you on the bottom playfully as he herds you towards the door. ‘I won’t be long, promise.’

Taking two steps down the corridor, you look back one last time at Jack, who’s still watching you from the stall, leaning on the top of the door. When he blows you a lingering kiss, the thought strikes you unbidden -

If it’s this hard leaving him for a couple of hours.

Feeling the tell-tale sting in your nose and the prickle of tears at your eyes, you push the thought out of your mind -

You put one foot in front of the other, and walk away.

You didn’t realise how much you missed civilisation until you surprise yourself with the longest sigh under the rain shower. Head bowed under the steady stream, you take your time, lathering yourself until you’re cocooned in olive scented bubbles before rinsing, relishing the firm water pressure soothing the knots and soreness lurking under your skin.

But there’s a deeper ache, one that can’t be reached from the surface.

You have literally not been apart from Jack for the last four days. You’ve been showering together since the Halfway House, for crying out loud. It hasn’t taken you more than the stretch of an arm to catch his hand, or the turn of your cheek to find his lips.

A laugh bubbles in your throat as you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel. The word codependent springs to mind.

Standing in the middle of the room in just your underwear, you sort through the clean clothes that are folded neatly on the bed. Pulling on the prettiest top you brought and the same pair of jeans you wore on your birthday, you dig out your makeup bag and settle in front of the vanity, putting on a Spotify playlist and humming along as you get ready for dinner.

One second you’re blending in your foundation, then the next - liner in your grasp and poised over the corner of your eye - panic rudely sets in.

What if -

What if the chemistry between the two of you was conditional on forced proximity?

What if Jack was only attracted to you because there was literally no other woman for miles and miles?

What if -

You startle at the knock on the door.

It’s deja vu when you pad across the oakwood floors on bare feet, your heart threatening to thunder out of your chest when you twist the knob clockwise.

Jack is leaning on the doorframe, freshly showered himself, damp locks curling into his forehead. The yellow flannel he’s wearing is new to you, but not the way the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, over his sunkissed forearms.

For one moment of madness, you want to sink your teeth into the thick, sinewy -

‘What is it, darlin’?’ he asks, amused by your scrutiny.

You shrug, fingers fidgeting with a touch of shyness. ‘Just thinking about the last time you were on this doorstep.’

‘When you were swept away by my good looks and charm?’ he quips, arching an eyebrow.

You let him have this one, teasing, ‘Something like that, cowboy.’

Straightening up to his full height, he pulls you in by the waist so that you’re almost standing on the worn leather tips of his boots, the span of his palms warm on the small of your back. He doesn’t even bother checking over his shoulder before brushing a tender kiss on your lips, and it takes you right back to that first time in the field of wildflowers at dawn.

And you just know, in your heart of hearts - there is no what if.

In the middle of nowhere, up in the mountains, the sunset hour demands nothing short of worship. Miles and miles of grassland, trees and summer blooms become altars dipped in bronze at which to prostrate oneself as the sun sinks, rejoicing at the rapture of the end of day.

Whilst not as transcendent as what you experienced on the trail, the last sunset over the ranch is giving as good as it gets. The sun gilds the fields in gold on its descent as the stable hands bring in the last of the horses for the night while the swallows fly home above. The river that winds through the ranch is ablaze with the refracting light, and across the yard, you can hear the impatient whinnying of those waiting for their supper.

Jack and Tequila are setting up the barbeque and firepit, the orange glow of the twin flames taking the place of the fading daylight. The familiar scent of burning wood grounds you - you’re feeling a bit out of practice being the centre of attention after being alone with Jack for the past week.

Ice cold lemonade in one hand and buffalo jerky in the other, you smile when Ginger approaches with a hug. ‘I’m sure you’ve had to answer this question about fifty times today, but how was it?’

‘You want the short answer or long answer?’

‘I want a dissertation if you have it in you!’

You sneak glances at Jack over Ginger’s shoulder while you chat, and he watches you back from afar as he bustles in and out of the kitchen, always trailing two steps behind Poppy. You catch snippets of their conversation as they go back and forth, and you pick up enough to know that she is grilling him on the ‘food poisoning’ incident. He shoots you puppy eyes every time he passes by, which makes you grin.

You may or may not have been a bit distracted by the cowboy when Ginger asks, ‘So, did you catch Jack washing in the river in the end?’

A violent cough racks your entire body as you choke mid-swallow, and she chuckles, giving you a comforting pat on the back. ‘It’s ok, girlfriend - I don’t have to know!’

You knock back more lemonade and choose to play coy. If only she knew.

Champ is in his element, swapping out your drink for a whiskey soda as the dusk deepens and making sure the snacks platter is topped up with locally made boar and elk salami. Despite only having half an ear in the conversation while he keeps an eye on the dinner prep, he’s somehow still fully invested, and is particularly interested in the photos and videos you’ve been taking on Jack’s DSLR.

‘And that’s what you do for a livin’, young lady?’ he asks, putting on his reading glasses so he can study the photos downloaded onto your phone.

‘Adjacent. I’m in marketing, I do quite a lot of business-to-consumer social media campaigns,’ you explain, switching to Instagram to show him your employer’s profile.

Champ turns to Ginger. ‘Do we have the social media?’

She exchanges a fond smile with you. ‘No we don’t, boss, but we do have a website. I think it was last updated in 2012.’

Champ holds his chin between his thumb and index finger thoughtfully. ‘What do you think, m’dear? Should we get the social media?’

‘It depends,’ you answer truthfully. ‘If you want to boost occupancy, social media will definitely help connect new guests, and also encourage repeat visits. But if you asked me, I think the real potential is on the distillery side of the business.’

Champ perks up under his cowboy hat. ‘I’m listenin’.’

You tap the bottle of Statesman whiskey that’s sitting on the barrel table. ‘Jack told me that you only handle wholesale orders right now, which is perfectly fine. But if you want to go direct to consumers one day, social media is the way to go. I’ve worked with vineyards and gin distilleries, so I’ve seen how effective these campaigns can be.’

Humming pensively, Champ sips at his whiskey, neat, a faraway look in his eyes as he mulls over your words. ‘Well, that’s somethin’ to think about, I’d say.’

There’s no other way to end the trip than with a western cookout. The barbeque station is packed with trays of beautifully cut and aged meat from neighbouring ranches, sausages and brats, while the smoked brisket and ribs that have been cooking all day are brought out from the smoker in the kitchen.

On the side, a picnic table draped with a chequered table cloth is crammed with baked beans (smoked in-house), corn on the cob, pasta salad and soda bread; and on the greens front, there’s homemade coleslaw, potato salad and greens freshly picked from the vegetable patch.

It’s a feast of epic proportions, and it doesn’t surprise you at all that Poppy is pulling out all the stops.

Jack mans the barbeque under her supervision, wielding the tongs with showmanship, and your heart purrs at the familiar sight of him cooking by firelight as darkness well and truly sets in. You feel slightly adrift not being by his side, but Champ is keeping you entertained and well fed, piling seconds upon thirds on your loaded plate despite your protests.

By the time Teak takes over at the barbeque and Jack makes his way towards the communal table where you’re all standing, you’re sipping slowly on your third whiskey and soda. You smile at him over the brim of your tumbler which he returns, and your body leans unconsciously towards him, before remembering where you are. He tucks his right hand into his back pocket, and you want to think that it’s because if he doesn’t, he would reach out for you.

Being denied his touch when he’s right there has you shifting your feet restlessly. Your fingers itch for him, there’s an insistent prickle under your skin that you know he alone can placate.

You venture a peek at Jack, wondering if he’s faring any better than you are. Feeling your eyes on him, he turns to you, his gaze dropping to your mouth none too subtly, the muscle in his neck tensing. Caught in the moment, all you want to do is to run your tongue down the hollow of his throat and taste the smoke on his skin -

You look away in case you do anything rash.

You’re barely holding it together when the conversation moves on to your birthday at the Halfway House.

‘And how was the dinner?’ asks Poppy animatedly. ‘Did you like the cake?’

Despite yourself, you beam, ‘Like it? I loved it, thank you so much! I was so spoiled.’

‘Did Jack show you a good time?’

‘Oh I should say so,’ cuts in Tequila despite being six feet away at the barbeque. At Jack’s glare, he quickly adds, ‘He decked out the place real nice, y’know, with balloons and shit.’

With a shake of your head, you chuckle, ‘And he dressed the horses up in birthday hats and tinsel!’

With the barbeque dying down to a low, simmering flame, Poppy slides in a couple of peach cobblers in pie dishes directly onto the embers to warm up. Leaving behind gravy-stained plates stacked up high on the barrel table, the group drifts over to the low-set deck chairs sitting in a tidy circle around the firepit.

Emptying the last of the whiskey into his glass, Champ calls out, ‘Jack, m’boy, how ‘bout you run to the cellar and grab us another bottle of the fifteen years?’

‘Sure, boss,’ he replies, hanging back and catching your attention. ‘You wanna come look at the cellar, darlin’? It’s quite a sight.’

Champ is delighted. ‘What an inspired idea! Take your time, young lady, it’s not quite the distillery cellar, but we’ll save that for next time.’

Teak gives you a two-fingered salute and a knowing wink as Jack leads the way. ‘Enjoy the tour, sweetheart!’

Jack barely waits until you’ve turned the corner behind one of the barns before backing you up against the wall. You taste whiskey and woodsmoke on his tongue as he pins you in place with his broad frame, and you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him.

‘I missed you, darlin’,’ he whispers against your lips.

‘I was standing right next to you, cowboy.’

‘I know,’ he whines. ‘Took everythin’ to keep my hands to myself.’

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you reach up to brush an errant curl back from his eyes. ‘Me too.’

Jack grabs your hand and takes you on what must be a shortcut to the kitchen, since you don’t recognise the route. Practically dragging you down a flight of steps at the back, he lets go of you only to pull open a heavy oak door. Your eyes widen when the orange lights flicker on, stepping into the cellar lined with hundreds, if not thousands of bottles, floor-to-ceiling shelves nestled into stone arches carved into the walls.

You wander the perimeter of the room, carefully pulling out dusty bottles high and low to inspect the years printed on the labels, but Jack is having none of it. Face nuzzled into the nook of your shoulder, he grinds his half-hard cock into you impatiently, calloused palms sliding under your shirt and squeezing your tits through your bra.

You moan, the sound echoing under the low vaulted ceilings. ‘What are you doing, cowboy?’

‘Want you now,’ he rasps into the back of your neck, teeth catching the sensitive skin.

‘What’s gotten into you?’ you ask, a laugh caught in your throat as he ruts against the cleft of your ass needily, a shudder rippling through you when you feel just how much he wants you through the denim.

‘It’s the change in altitude,’ he rasps, dry humping you in earnest now, his fingers fumbling with the front of the zipper. ‘And you’re really fuckin’ sexy in these jeans.’

‘Such a sweet talker,’ you tease, reaching behind you to undo his pants. ‘We got to be quick.’

He yanks the front of your jeans down so hard the movement jolts you forwards, flipping the denim inside out and dragging it down to the middle of your thighs, your panties going with them. His question is hot in your ear. ‘Want me to use protection, darlin’?’

You don’t skip a beat with an emphatic, ‘No.’

‘Fuck,’ he growls at your one-worded answer. ‘Lettin’ me fuck you bare? I’m one lucky cowboy.’

Your pussy throbs at his words alone, and you gasp in surprise when Jack manhandles you to the middle of the room, where a row of aged barrels rest on their sides, elevated on a sturdy shelf to keep them off the floor. He bends you unceremoniously over one cask so that your front is pressed up against the curved wooden surface, then, kicking your legs apart and notching the head of his cock at the mouth of your cunt, he sinks into you in one determined thrust.

‘Jack!’ you cry out, voice hoarse, filled almost painfully full, suspended on the tips of your toes as he plants his feet and drives into you, pulling out to the tip before plunging all the way back in, so deep you feel him in your throat. His breath is harsh and hot on the shell of your ear, but you can’t hear him over your own cries.

‘That’s it, darlin’,’ he croons throatily, his jeans rubbing the back of your thighs raw as his grip on you bites into your sides, holding you in place as you writhe. ‘Such a good girl, lettin’ me bend you over like this, takin’ me so well.’

Nails skidding over the wooden grain of the barrel as you scrabble for something to hold onto, you mewl, ‘Yes, yes, yes, feels so fucking good, cowboy!’

The slap of skin on skin bounces obscenely off the walls, and between the buck of his hips and his groans, you hear the slick squelch of your pussy stretching for him.

It seems to spur him on, and he snaps harder into you, rasping, ‘Look at you naughty thin’, lettin’ me fuck you in the middle of the cellar when anyone can walk in.’

Only then does it hit you - the absurdity of having fucked your way across the open country on this packtrip, taking for granted the liberty of literally screaming to the high heavens, free from prying eyes and ears. Juxtaposed against the sudden and very real prospect of getting caught, your body instinctively reacts.

Jack feels you clench wetly around his cock, a choked chuckle halfway in his throat. ‘Fuck, you filthy girl, you like that, don’t you? Want someone to walk in on us when I’m balls deep inside this pretty pussy?’

Your back arches, and he slides in so deep you’re sure you’ll be feeling him for days after, even when you’re a thousand miles from here. ‘Yes, yes, yes sir -’

The next thing you know, he’s gripping your hair and pulling, making you watch him over your shoulder. His eyes are black, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, and he’s gone - he’s thrusting recklessly into you, and you have no idea how your spine hasn’t snapped from being bent so far backwards. Then one rope-worn palm comes down on your right ass cheek in a cracking slap, making you gag on a half-groan, slick trickling down your thighs at the sting.

Jack leans over you now, caging you between his arms, his soft kisses on your neck an antithesis to the uncompromising rhythm at which he’s pounding into you. He coaxes, ‘Gonna cum for me, darlin’?’

Two of his fingers nudge between your legs and you whine when they make landing on your swollen clit. You nod desperately, clawing at the smooth wooden barrel under you. ‘Yes Jack, please make me cum. Please.’

‘Don’t you worry, you will,’ he says matter-of-factly, smearing mouth and tongue down the side of your neck. ‘You can do it. Make a mess on my cock, c’mon, darlin’ -’

When you clamp down around him, it takes Jack everything - everyfuckin’thin’ - not to let go and pump into you, fill that tight little cunt as you wail his name, quaking and squirming in his grasp. Air doesn’t quite reach his lungs, and he’s biting so hard on the insides of his mouth that it swells instantly, wanting so badly to mark you, to possess you in the most primal way a man can -

With a strangled groan, he pulls out, but only just - he’s already cumming before he can even wrap a fist around his cock, spurting crudely all over the swollen lips of your pussy and the curve of your ass as he milks himself dry, shudder after shudder. His spend drips so prettily down the back of your thighs, stopping just short of staining your jeans, that he goes light-headed for a moment. He sways, and if not for you grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a lazy kiss, he probably would’ve keeled over.

He looks down at the mess he made, crooning into your ear, ‘You’re so beautiful covered in my cum, darlin’.’

You squeak, startled, when he runs this thumb down your slit, still so slick and wet for him, and he has to fight the urge to fucking scoop up his cum shove it into you, filling you only to have it drool out of you when he holds the pretty lips open -

He feels your eyes on him, like you can tell what he’s thinking. He winces, shame rearing its head as he apologises, ‘I’m sorry, I got carried away. Was it - too much?’

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you pull him down for another kiss. ‘Never. I’ll take everything you’ve got, cowboy.’

Jack somehow has a handkerchief in his shirt pocket, which he brandishes with a flourish, prompting a giggle from you. ‘A gentleman if I’ve ever seen one.’

With a playful smirk, he declares, ‘Damn straight - my mama raised me right.’

Gently, Jack cleans you up, and you’re happy to let him do all the work, your body heavy and sated. When he’s done, he swivels you around and presses his lips to your temple. ‘Come back to my house tonight, darlin’?’

You tuck your nose into the crook of his neck and breathe in deeply. ‘I’d love to, cowboy.’

He’s carefully folding up the soiled handkerchief and tucking it into his back pocket when you hear footsteps on the stairs, and the two of you have barely pulled up your jeans when the door swings open.

There’s a dramatic pause as Teak takes in your dishevelled state and none too guilty faces. Looking distinctly unsurprised, he bursts into laughter nonetheless. ‘The cellar? Is nothin’ sacred to you heathens?’

The cookout winds down over bubbling hot peach cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream that Teak collected from the freezer in the kitchen on the way back. It’s pushing ten o’clock when Champ calls it a night, and you all help with bringing the dirty dishes and leftovers inside.

Poppy and Ginger make quick work of putting all the food in tupperware and into the fridge. Jack and Teak load up the dishwasher as you finish off the last of your drink.

Champ dusts his hands, as if he’s the one who’s done all the tidying up, and asks, ‘Your flight tomorrow isn’t until afternoon is it?’

You nod, passing Jack your empty glass. ‘Yeah, I need to drop off my rental truck as well, so I think I’ll have to leave around eleven.’

He pats you on the back. ‘Alright then, we’ll see you tomorrow mornin’. Have a good night’s sleep, young lady.’

‘Say goodbye before you go,’ adds Ginger, giving you a peck on the cheek.

‘Dinner was incredible, Poppy, thank you,’ you smile as she pulls you into a warm hug.

The redhead winks at you. ‘My absolute pleasure. I’ll fix you a little takeaway lunch to go tomorrow for the journey home. No plane food allowed for our guests!’

The kitchen empties until it’s just you, Jack and Teak, with the latter grinning at you two like a lunatic. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugs. ‘So you guys wanna hang, or -’

‘Get the fuck outta here, Teak!’ Jack growls.

The taller cowboy ambles over to you, joints loose with alcohol, and gives you what can only be described as a bear hug.

‘Just try keep it down, will ya? It’s real quiet in the valley at night and some of us have to work early tomorrow,’ he ribs with an insolent wink. ‘Guess we won’t see you lovebirds at breakfast?’

‘Not if you’re there,’ Jack retorts, to which Teak flashes a good-natured middle finger and saunters off into the night.

Jack draws you into his arms and you slump against him, relieved that you’re finally alone. ‘Shall we, darlin’?’

His fingers curl securely around the back of your hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles at the base of yours as he closes the kitchen door behind you. It strikes you this is actually the first time you’re holding hands - there was no need for that when you were in the saddle, or camped in close proximity.

Your cheeks stretch with a smile so wide that the muscles ache. The mundanity of walking side by side, hand in hand, shouldn’t be this thrilling.

It’s quiet other than the grind of gravel under your boots and Jack’s heavier ones. The night air is sweet, the blanket of stars above you just as magical, but it’s not quite the same kind of stillness at the lower altitude. Perhaps it’s the way the sound travels with buildings and other people around, maybe the very physics of it is fundamentally different.

Turning into the parking lot, your attention is piqued by a handsome motorcycle parked all on its lonesome next to the main lodge.

Pride in his voice, Jack says, ‘Darlin’, meet the Silver Pony.’

You know nothing about motorcycles, but you can appreciate the sleek lines, the classy tan leather seat and the retro elegance about her as you circle it. Her silver paint job gleams in the lonely porch light. ‘She’s beautiful, cowboy.’

‘She’s an old girl but she got good bones. I restored her myself,’ he proclaims proudly, before admitting, ‘And well, Teak helped too.’

Opening a little cabinet attached to the side of the main lodge, Jack pulls out a helmet that has you laughing. It’s painted red white and blue, stars, stripes and the full monty, with the word WHISKEY painted across the front in bold formation.

He grins at you. ‘Found it in a yard sale. Too good to pass up.’

Lowering it over your head, he tightens the strap carefully under your chin. It’s a bit big, but it’ll do for a short ride. Blinking up at him, it brings you back to that first day in the stables, and you feel the same pull that you did when he fitted you with your hat.

Except this time, you can do something about it. Standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, you giggle when your helmet slips and knocks into his forehead with a clunk.

Putting on his own sensible black helmet, he plants his left foot by the side of the bike and swings his right leg over the leather seat.

You’re taken aback by the spike in your pulse at the sight - you’d think that having seen him on horseback all week would have prepared you for it. But there’s something about the way he leans over the top of the motorcycle, thighs wrapped around the metal body, forearms flexing as he grasps the handlebar.

Starting the ignition and knocking back the kickstand with the heel of his cowboy boot, Jack nods at you. ‘Hop on, darlin’.’

You do, and you don’t need to be told to hold on tight.

The Silver Pony purrs to a stop outside a modest cottage, about a ten-minute cruise from the ranch, down a short dirt track from the main road. It’s pitch black except for the headlights that illuminate an unexpectedly floral front garden. You hop off and take off your helmet before Jack kills the engine, plunging you into a very familiar darkness.

Switching on the light on his phone, he reaches for your hand and pulls you gently to his side, his solid warmth welcome even though it’s nowhere as chilly as it was up on the mountains. Flashing the light towards the front yard, he tells you, ‘Ginger has quite the green finger, this is all her work. It took some time, but the vegetable patch is just startin’ to come through this season.’

Keys jangling, Jack unlocks the front door and ushers you inside, flipping on the lights.

It’s a cosy space, not big by country standards, but more than spacious enough for one cowboy. It’s clearly a man’s house, with a distinct lack of decorative touches other than a vintage map of Wyoming hanging over a dining table and a crowded bookshelf by the door. Dark wood with orange knots line the floors and ceilings, the warm tones reminding you of nights around the campfire.

Walking through the tidy but lived-in space, you pass an open kitchen with a breakfast bar that backs into the living room. A rustic stone fireplace stands in the corner, bracketed by a cosy sectional with deep seats.

Jack watches you mill about, taking everything in. When you stop by the fireplace, he asks jokingly from across the room, ‘So, what’s the verdict?’

You tease, ‘Not gonna lie - I’m disappointed there aren’t more spurs and lassos on the walls.’

He chuckles and steps into the kitchen. ‘You want a nightcap?’

‘Just water thank you, I think I’ve had enough to drink.’

Filling up two glasses at the sink, he crosses the room to join you at the mantelpiece.

‘How long have you been living here?’ you ask, setting your glass on the shelf after taking a sip.

He takes a moment to reply. ‘I took a long break off work after my wife died, then moved in here straight after. Couldn’t stand bein’ in our house alone - couldn’t bear bein’ there at all.’ He pauses, and his lips quirk with a wry smile. ‘Champ and Teak packed everythin’ up for me and drove it all here.’

His honesty hits you squarely in the chest, the weight of the grief behind his words nearly knocking you back a step. You reach for him, closing the two-step distance and wrapping your arms tight around his waist.

Eyes closed, he lets you anchor him to the moment. Maybe he shouldn’t, but the confession slips right through his teeth. ‘I haven’t brought any women here. Ever.’

He holds his breath as he feels you hold yours.

You mumble into his chest, ‘You have to stop making it harder for me to leave, cowboy.’

Then don’t.

The two words are on the tip of his tongue, and for a second, he worries that he actually said them out loud. But he knows he can’t. It’s mad. It’s been a week. It’s not fair on you, not when you have a whole life back in the city, thousands of miles away, and his is right here in the shadow of the Bighorn Mountains.

So he says nothing.

Eventually, you pull back and tip your face up towards him. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the wetness lining the seams of your eyes.

‘Let’s go to bed, cowboy.’

He watches you from the doorway, where he leans idly against the frame, body relaxed from the whiskey sodas at dinner. The curtains are drawn and the light from the bedside lamp soft, casting orange shades on the walls and your skin as you shrug on the shirt he leaves out for you. The last button done, you snuggle comfortably under his sheets, and his heart lurches.

Not for the first time, the thought crosses his mind -

You look like you belong here.

‘Are you gonna stare all night, cowboy?’ you tease, sinking into the pillows.

He shrugs and closes the door behind him, shedding his clothes as he goes. ‘Can’t help it, darlin,’. You look good in my bed.’

‘It’s so comfy,’ you sigh happily, watching him strip down to his boxers.

‘It’s just the hard ground talkin’,’ he says, climbing in next to you. Bundling you into his arms and sliding one leg between yours, he kisses you, a deep exhale leaving him as he does. You smile so wide the corners of your eyes crease, and he watches as they land somewhere behind him.

His stomach drops when it dawns on him what catches your attention.

But it’s too late. You sit up, leaning over him and grabbing a hold of it with gentle hands.

You stare up at him. ‘Jack.’

He doesn’t even remember the last time he really looked at the photo. It’s there when he wakes up, when he goes to bed. It sits on the bedside table by the lamp, probably covered in dust.

Untouched.

His silence doesn’t deter you, but your tone is soft, and he understands that you’re giving him an out if he wants it. ‘What’s her name?’

His throat goes drier than sandpaper, and he’s suddenly speaking through a mouthful of cotton. It takes him two tries before he manages to enunciate. ‘Addison. Everyone called her Addie.’

‘Was this taken at your wedding?’

He nods, picking at a loose thread on the comforter.

‘Look at you all dashing in a suit, cowboy,’ you hum appreciatively, tracing a fingertip over the smart dark grey tweed jacket with navy accents. ‘Where did you get married?’

‘At her parents’ ranch.’

‘Under this magnolia tree?’

He nods again. ‘It was her favourite spot.’

‘She’s so beautiful,’ you say quietly.

His eyes dart to the photo in your grasp despite himself. Swallowing thickly, he says, ‘She’s buried there now, where she was always happiest.’

At that, you return the photo to its place on the bedside table, almost solemnly. This is usually the point when people stop asking questions, so when you snuggle into the crook of his shoulder, gazing at him expectantly, he frowns in confusion.

‘What is it, darlin’?’

‘Tell me about her.’

Jack is stumped, flustered at your request. He shifts, sitting up stiffly against the headboard. ‘Like what?’

You shrug. ‘I don’t know. Like - how did you meet?’

His answer is short, factual. ‘On the rodeo circuit. We both worked on the tour.’

You give him an encouraging nudge. ‘And? What was she like?’

‘She -’ he pauses and holds his breath, weighing his words. In the end, it’s the truth that he tells you. ‘She was the best person.’

He stutters to a stop again, but you’re still peering at him, your expression curious and open. He knows you won’t push him, he trusts that you wouldn’t. He could reach out and switch off the light right now, and he knows you’d leave it at that.

But a small part of him demurs. He doesn’t have the words to describe it, but something unsettling and hopeful at once stirs in his stomach, one that is stopping him from cutting short this somewhat unconventional pillow talk.

So he tests the words on his tongue, starting with something small. ‘She was a cat person. All the barn cats loved her, no matter where we went on the circuit.’

Watching the way your eyes smile at the detail, he feels a little lighter. He adds, ‘We literally had cats camping out in our truck, and I’m allergic, so I’d be sneezing and covered in hives on the long-distance drives between rodeos.’

You laugh, and his chest swells with the realisation that he doesn’t remember the last time any mention of his wife sparked anything but sad side glances and commiserating pats on the back - let alone joy.

Over the years, he had let go of her joy. Because it doesn’t hurt as much to mourn her this way.

And the guilt that he did this, took the easy way out, is almost too much for one soul-crushing moment - until you lay your head on his chest, unfurling one hand and pressing it into his side, literally holding him together, rib by rib.

He tells you about Addie. Things he’s been afraid to remember, but even more afraid that he had forgotten. Her likes, pet peeves, where she went to college, her favourite show, her irrational fear of butterflies, her favourite dress, the song that always got her up on her feet dancing wherever she was, whatever she was doing, when it came on the radio.

You listen, picking up on the way his voice falls back into that beautiful Southern cadence that you have come to know as he remembers his wife, nothing but love in his eyes as the guardedness fades with each memory he confides in you. You pepper the pauses with follow-up questions and playful quips where you’re draped across him, one arm folded underneath you and the other over his waist, but you feel yourself nodding off as the hour grows late.

He holds you to him, his palm spanning your lower back, until you go quiet.

Jack is tired, his own lids drooping with impending slumber, the sprint down memory lane taking more out of him than he expected. Brushing a kiss to the crown of your head, he rolls you off his front and onto your side, tucking you into the rumpled sheets. Spooning you from behind, he murmurs one last thing on the shell of your ear.

‘She would’ve loved you, darlin’.’

Notes: When I first started this series, I didn't have a backstory developed for Jack other than that his wife died eight and a half years before Darlin' comes on the scene. It's been such an organic and fulfilling journey developing his character and his history over the series, filling in the blanks as we and Darlin' got to know him better.

It's so important to me that his wife and his grief isn't pushed to one side for the sake of easy story telling. I've dropped little hints of his bereavement throughout the series, nothing too loud, but it's there in the background, my way of paying respect to one aspect of canon Jack that touches me very deeply despite the mess the movie makes of his story.

Out of all my Reader! characters, I would say that Darlin' is my most unassuming one. Not in a bad way at all, it's just that she doesn't have as loud a personality as Shiv or Pin, or as dramatic a storyline as Sweetheart. But this chapter, she just really came into her own. That last scene will stay with me forever ❤️

Edited to add a reminder that we still have one more chapter to go before we say goodbye to these two. I’m not ready 😭

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels au #agent whiskey au #pedro pascal character fic

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cowboydisaster · 11 months ago

Note

Hi again! Thought of another one….

Arthur finds out that reader has a gift for him for Christmas but he hasn’t gotten them anything. So he has to scramble to think of a gift. He ends up making a handful of drawings of reader including some with their beloved horse. And of course reader is over the moon about it

This one isn’t too clever so if you’re not feelin’ it, it’s ok.

🎄❤️

* ˚ ✦ Icebreak * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 720 a/n: Just a cute lil' drabble. Merry Christmas' eve! Thank you for another really cute prompt!!

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: ONE day 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur distinctly remembers the conversation in which you’d both agreed that you wouldn’t be exchanging gifts this year. Alarm bells are going off in his head. Was he supposed to get you a gift anyway? Should he have ignored that conversation entirely? Been a gentleman and got you something nice? Arthur swallows thickly.

Despite the conversation, Arthur had just found out that you have a gift for him. Sadie has a loud mouth, especially when she’s drunk, and for once, Arthur is grateful for it. At least he has a little time to think of something. He pulls his pocket watch out, glancing at the time. 6:27 PM. A little time.

In a rush, Arthur jogs into his tent, pulling his journal out of his satchel and placing it on the bed. Beside it, he tosses down a piece of charcoal and a pencil. The camp isn’t in a great financial situation; hence the agreement of no presents. So, he reckons if he can’t buy you something, he’ll just have to make you something.

Arthur begins drawing, and after a while, the sun fades away, forcing him to switch to lantern light. The side of his hand is caked in lead as he runs the pencil over the pages, capturing the curves of your body, the shine of your smile. He draws his favorite memories of you. The day he gifted you your mare, Sugar. The day you kissed him for the first time. The day he’d brought you to camp.

Arthur stays up far too late, sketching a handful of pictures of you, taking his time to capture you in the utmost detail. His hand flicks perfectly, catching the waves in your hair, the line of your jaw. Arthur draws you with your mare, with his gelding, with him.

The group of drawings encapsulate the things that you love the most, and the memories that you hold dear. After finishing half a dozen good drawings, Arthur inspects them, fixing little mistakes, and adding little notes about his love for you. When he’s finished, he takes some old baling twine, tying a little bow around the pages, fixing them until they’re all wrapped up perfectly.

He knows you deserve better, a bracelet of silver or gold. A necklace embedded with gemstones, or a new dress. Those are the things you would have been gifted back in the city. He sighs, looking down at his little homemade gift, knowing that it will just have to do.

— — —

“Alright,” Arthur whispers, pulling out the ribbon-wrapped sketches, “Go on n’ open ‘em.”

Your eyes open slowly, drifting to the white pages that Arthur is extending out to you.

Hesitantly, you take them, eyes searching up to Arthur’s for reassurance. He nods, and you smile, pulling the twine ribbon, letting it spiral to the floor. You flip the first paper, recognizing it as being ripped out from Arthur’s journal, and you gasp.

It’s a beautiful sketch, one of you sitting up in bed, hair draped down your back, a graceful smile on your lips. Even through paper and pencil, Arthur has managed to capture the sparkle in your eyes, the optimism in your countenance. Next to the drawing is a small note.

Early mornings with my lady.

Your heart warms, and you flip to the next one. You find a sketch of you, laying on the back of your beloved mare, arms wrapped around her neck. The drawings are stunning. Works of art that should be posted in a gallery in Saint Denis, and he’s giving them to you. You know how private Arthur is with his journal, and you’re honored.

“You like ‘em?” Arthur asks, nervous of your silence as you continue to look through. Tears pool in your eyes as you look up to him, holding up some of the precious gifts.

“You drew me. Arthur, I love them.” Sincerity is thick in your voice, and Arthur wipes a tear away from your cheek.

“Didn’t wanna make you cry.” He jokes. You huff.

“They’re so beautiful, so meaningful. No one’s ever done anything like this for me. Not in my whole life— not before you.” You whisper.

Arthur’s arms wrap around you then, pulling you into his chest, shushing away your sniffles.

“They’re perfect, Arthur.” You murmur against him. He smiles.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445

#divider by cafekitsune #cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x f!reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan

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vxsellie · 2 months ago

Text

�� ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ WILD WEST !

— this is just to give u a visual for the world building in ‘tangled bones’. all of the pictures are from pinterest & every town / city / and house depicted is made up, & not at all historically accurate!!!

this will be added to the start & end of each chapter so it's easily accessible. i just wanted to make the little world in my head more tangible for myself while also making my story more digestible for you! if you have any questions or would like certain areas / places added that are mentioned, just ask & i'll be more than happy to indulge you

<< back to masterlist !

UPTOWN

significance. where the strauss family resides

residents. this little town is home to those wealthy enough to sustain living here. rich farmers, business owners, mining rig owner, etc find themselves in uptown due to it being closer to wealthy customers and the railway station that journeys in & out of the town.

desc. uptown is located in the very center of the west, the heart of trade and commerce to all of those involved. thin patches of grass grow here, but it struggles to thrive. brick streets are lined with homes and businesses, the construction maintained and kept nice when compared to any of the neighboring towns. uptown is so large with such a lively population that many consider it a city, seeing as it's on the brink of being deemed one.

STRAUSS RESIDENCE

significance. where our main character, charlotte strauss, grew up ; the house she ran away from.

residents. homes the esteemed strauss family which consists of three members, mother father and daughter. francis strauss, the man of the house, upkeeps the land and provides income to sustain living here. bonnie strauss, francis's third wife, raises her only child within the walls of the home whilst also cooking & cleaning for her little family. charlotte strauss, the only heir to the strauss lineage, was born and raised within this house, birthed in the very bathtub upstairs. this home is all she's known for her entire life. no wonder she had to get out.

desc. the exterior of the strauss residence is depicted in the last image of the 'uptown' section. the home is built of pale blue wood and large white columns, vines and dust tracing the corners of the building. the interior is decorated small and homey, white walls and mahogany flooring and hanging chandeliers.

GOLDENEDGE

significance. where both ellie and joel currently live.

residents. very few people live in goldenedge, the land do vast and far apart that it doesn't exactly have an exact population number. mostly farmers inhabit this land, using its size for crops

desc. deep orange desert sand coats the land, dirt roads and cattle the only sign of life. houses are hundreds of acres apart, neighbors never seeing one another unless meeting is priorly planned. cows and sheep are free to roam the land, so desolate that there's nobody around enough to complain. farmers love this land, fields and hay bales dotting the horizon.

ELLIE'S HOUSE

significance. where the love interest, ellie williams, currently resides.

residents. ellie lives alone in her tiny house, happy in her own company as long as she has the consolation of knowing that nobody will come knocking on her door asking for sugar. she's considered adopting a cat or dog, but sees no point in it due to her rarely being home & always elsewhere ⎯ whether that be out bounty hunting or out drinking with her boss, joel miller.

desc. located in goldenedge ; her house built literally in the middle of nowhere. joel is her closest neighbor and he's about fifteen miles away. ellie prefers it this way, though. the house is white, the paint beginning to chip on the outside. she has a small wrap-around porch where she sits and drinks with joel, overlooking her horse stables and swishing grass. her kitchen has a tiny circular table, only needing two seats ⎯ one in case of joel randomly visiting her (which he does quite frequently). it's decorated lazily, tools and random pictures nailed into the wall haphazardly and without much thought. somehow, though, over the years it's turned into an actually well-decorated space. it's messy at times, but it's cozy and lived in. it's home.

RUBY RIDGE

significance. where most fugitives (including charlotte) are found by bounty hunters.

residents. home to those too poor to afford living in uptown, but wealthy enough to not end up in deadwood. people who live here mostly consist of drunken old men here to gamble and drink, or outlaws running from ellie & joel while trying to sell illegal products to the drunken men. brothels and bootlegging shacks thrive here.

desc. the streets are made of dirt, the buildings on either side made of rotting wood and cheep nails that fall apart weekly. most buildings here struggle to survive the tiniest gust of wind. but, frankly, this is ellie's favorite place in the world. everyone here is so social. kids can be seen running up and down the streets, women luring men into the brothels, men drunk and spending all their money. the atmosphere is so personable despite its slight uneasiness. nobody in ruby ridge has good intentions, but that's what makes the town so lovable.

DEADWOOD

significance. where ellie grew up. until she was fifteen.

residents. people who live in deadwood have a very short life expectancy, to put it bluntly. the townspeople are rude and irritable, but they have good reason ⎯ they're in the act of starving to death. kids here have to steal in order for their families to have enough food to make it through winter. parents pray and hope they don't have kids for fear of needing to provide for another human under their roof.

desc. the slums of the west. buildings are made of stone, jagged and uneven. the streets are nonexistent as nobody here has enough money to afford any form of transportation, even a horse. beggars line the town, ribs poking through their skin as they cough and hack from an incurable illness.

THICKET FOREST

significance. you'll see

residents. seeing as naught but nature exists out here, it's rare to see anybody in thicket forest. sometimes, travelers or traders can be seen on horseback but they rarely stay long, knowing that being out here for too long leads only to death. tons of wildlife is here though!

desc. outside of all the towns and away from civilization, a forest is located in the center of the desert. the trees are lush and green, watering holes thriving in their beauty. but the trip here is two days each way, meaning most sane people would be wise enough to avoid ending up out in thicket forest. after leaving town ⎯ any town ⎯ you're engulfed by desert and sand and cacti. but after a seven hour trip into the distance, shrubs and bushes begin to dot the land, soon fading into trees and a thick foliage. but by then, you're likely too late unless you turn back as soon as you enter the forest. lots and lots of sustenance is required in order to survive a trip to thicket and back. best of luck to anyone who strays out here.

#vxsellie !#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #joel miller #the wild west #cowboy au #cowgirl!ellie williams #wild west au #cowgirls are so hot #sorry #virtual map??#idk what its called #worldbuilding #series #masterlist

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springfilm · 1 year ago

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theredofoctober · 11 months ago

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RUMPLESTILTSKIN— An Oliver Quick/Reader Saltburn DarkFic

Pairing: Oliver Quick/You, Oliver Quick/Reader (no gender specified, terms like pretty are used though just to mention)

Synopsis: Oliver finds You, the awkward guest at his birthday party, and takes what his dark heart desires.

Trigger Warnings (PLEASE READ): noncon, blood play, Oliver just being evil

Fic under the cut, keep reading

"Who are you, then?"

It was the small man that said it, the one with the slurring Nothern accent and eyes like ice picks, palely sharp.

You'd seen him swaying on the outer edge of the party, seeming both drunk and far too sober, all at once.

His face was odd, flat, and sleek, like a trickster in a German folk story: thief of children, bringer of gold.

You hated the boy in a moment, drawing back from him against a trellis, your hands wrapped fast through the slats. His eyes made you wish you'd drunk rather less than you had done, silver as scissor blades in the swelling night.

"I'm one of Venetia's friends," you said, though you knew Felix more, and Farleigh rather better than you liked to. "You don't know me. Who are you?"

The boy stepped around a plant pot, his balance the measure of sobriety. He wore deer antlers with an open-chested white suit, embroidered with leaves, the dress of a more handsome man. Only the slopes of his cheekbones, the soft mouth were beautiful.

His eyes made an autopsy of you. There was nothing in them but wanting, a starving colour. An absence of it.

You would have turned to run, only there was nothing then to fly from that made sense.

"I'm Oliver," said the young man. "It's my birthday party. Felix's family arranged it all for me."

"Happy birthday," you said, at once, a reflex.

You wished that he'd go away, that he would edge into the maze like a shadow thrown by the sun, and meld with the dark of the leaves beyond. Anything but approach as he did then, his compact form eating of the air between you with carnivorous haste.

He was slight enough that you thought you might push him down or aside with little effort, but the poise of him, as delicate as a barber's blade, gave you pause. He'd cut you if you touched him, you thought. Something would happen, and you would run crying as you had from a dozen birthday celebrations as a child, unwanted.

He brought that old vulnerability up out of you, somehow, though he hadn't yet done much but broach the most innocent of smalltalk.

"How come you're over here, on your own?" asked Oliver, his head at a sympathetic incline. "You're too pretty for that. You know that, don't you?"

His voice was a sing-song croon, then, all silken menace. He was trying to charm you, you knew that, yet you saw as though through the beads of a brothel doorway the hunger in him, the appetite of worlds.

You glanced right and left, realising, with an awful start, how very drunk you were, swaying and stupid with it.

"I needed some fresh air," you said, with a high, braying laugh— Oliver half-smirked at the sound of it, knowing its falseness, knowing your fear. "All that bloody champagne went right to my head."

"You'll need someone to look after you, then," said Oliver, and then he uttered your name, making a baleful ditty of its syllables.

How had he known it? Had he known it all along?

You'd glimpsed him watching you, before, an empty glass in hand, attaching himself to your heels like a stoat after a rabbit, all lithe cunning on the hunt. Likely he'd heard your name then, as Felix had bent down to kiss your cheek, all affable golden looks. Heard it, and slipped it into the pocketbook of his mind to tear free, when it was needed.

Your name was pretty on Oliver's tongue, sugar, and ribbon, and stained glass, as apt to break. Happily you'd have taken the pieces and cast them all out into the riverbed, have gone nameless rather than hear him speak it again.

"You don't know anyone else here, do you?" asked Oliver, and there was the word again, no longer ribbon, but rough as a noose, strangling as he came closer still. "Just the Catton family. Something in common, me and you."

You lurched vaguely to the right, and Oliver's arm came up against the trellis, gently, a tender trap.

"You're lonely," he said. "Haven't you always been, though?"

His face was close enough for you to note the punctuation of a mole on his right cheek, the lines at his brow, the riddled literature of him. What he saw in yours was a portal to the past, all features from the nervous mouth to the twitching eyelids telling of a once bullied child, an outcast brought in through charity from the cold.

"Go away, Oliver," you said, bravely. "I want to be alone. I can't breathe."

That was true enough. You were stifled in your plastic wings and ill-fitting garments, sweating and airless, almost wanting to be sick.

Oliver drew his face nearer, and your throat closed to the breadth of a lock in your dread of him, of those ink spill eyes.

"I don't want you to breathe," he said. "Not right now."

Then he darned his lips to yours, their heat, their softness like the death of summer blooms, and you pressed back into the trellis so hard that you thought the wood might break, so brittle did it seem.

You brought up your hands to battle his shoulders, only for them to be joined with his, your fingers tangling, a torsion of slick skin and bone.

There were no thoughts that survived the cruelty of Oliver's embrace, the insistence of his compact strength, the length of tongue, of arousal under clothing, at your thigh. You wanted to snap free of him like a spell, but he kissed you until your fight withdrew in sight of its fair winner.

No one came close enough to see you, or if they did they thought you drunken lovers, poised to consummate your pash against the fence.

At last Oliver moved back his head, the reflection of the night's obsidian in his mortuary eyes.

"Let me go," you whispered. "I don't want to do this. I don't want you."

"Well, I want you, though," said Oliver, with an authority that frightened you in its unshifting weight. "And since nobody else here does, what's the point in saying no?"

His hands, little and wicked, wore their way under clammy layers of clothes. In all the heat they were almost cold, dragging from you a series of ragged gasps that were lost in the revelling darkness.

You wished the wings at your back were feathered, those of swans; they'd have broken the bones in his arm and you out of this, far lovelier a transportation than the sticky taxi that would bear you home in the hours to come.

Yet had such pretty things hung from your back this beast named Oliver would have bitten them off and flossed their quills through his teeth, you knew it.

He touched you until his findings were of stolen treasure, watching your every tendon solidify to strands of stone through the art of such fell grief.

"You weren't what I came looking for tonight, you know," he said. "But you're mine, anyway."

You didn't answer, imagined any word drowned like a cat in the depths of him.

Oliver stepped into you with a dancing softness and kissed you again, sucking a plum welt into your lower lip, breaking it between his teeth to blood. Again you struck your hands against him, but Oliver, with liquid instinct, pushed your arms back through the apertures in the trellis, caring little for the splinters in your wrists, if at all.

Crucifixion could not be so painful, so martyring as your capture beneath him.

"Oliver," you said, and he smiled.

"That's me. The birthday boy. And what does the birthday boy get?"

He opened your costume with the hook of four fingers, touched the bruised rose of princely lips to your ear.

His breath was smoke, and champagne, and stolen blood.

"I get what I want," he said, and then his cock was an arrow at the heart of your waiting horror, his slight hips a harp played against you, moving in the strum of entry, into the gold he made of your pain.

You screamed, and the sound was devoured by the bacchanal night. Oliver took you slowly, with patient intelligence, feeling each trembling agony of your body and twisting it, by sorcery, into something else. His eyes were a witch's orbs through which he knew you, psychic, solipsistic—

You were ivy about the wand of him, a thing that would poison the man, were he not immune to its effects. He fucked you as though he thought it romantic, somehow, this violence in a friend's pungent garden, the scent of flowers and trodden grass and arousal a perfume to woo.

There was blood on both of your faces, on his bare chest, under the blazer. It frightened you, suddenly, a tarot spread of death in the summer night—

Your panic, the heaviness of lingering champagne, the attack like Zeus upon a swan; all of it made you limp, in Oliver's grip.

He paused in his taking of you to hold you upright, studying your face under the Midas yellow of a nearby lamp.

"Stand up straight for me, now," he said. "And look at me. Look at me."

He tapped your cheek— not a slap, far too soft for that, as though the concern in the vicious gossamer in his voice was real.

"You want me to make you feel good about yourself. Need me. Don't you?"

"No," you said, but as Oliver kissed you again, and a firework shrieked somewhere against your eardrum, you lost what temporary power you'd had to resist him.

Like a spindled sleeper you endured his lovemaking, swallowed his tongue like a precious key. Your body was a pulse in deep water, stirred by hands and cock into a dripping arc.

Oliver moaned against your tattered lips, his arms about you in embrace. The heat of him would follow you, afterwards, the haunting of his lust's smoke from dream to dream.

He moved away from you, aided you in pulling your arms back through the trellis. For a moment he tried to hold you, his murmuring at your hair, its comfort indistinct.

Then, as you ripped him from you like the segment of a rotten apple he wiped himself clean of your blood; the rag he used was something torn from your garments in the fury of his love, a token of it. A thread from the maze.

You sat down in the grass and stared up at Oliver, seeking some answer. Assistance from the breaker of will.

"Go home," he said, at last. "Felix doesn't want you. And now—"

Oliver shook his head, and the peat fire of his eyes was of the underworld, then, of sapphire death gone to ash.

"I don't want you either. Not anymore."

Then he turned from you, and walked away, towards the house, his fey shape a shadow puppet on the wall.

#saltburn fic #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #saltburn #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #tw noncon #tw assault #tw blood #oliver quick x you

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noisycroissant · 2 years ago

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A Helping Hand

I have Toji brain-rot, so I wrote this. If you guys like this, maybe I can write more (?) 🤷🏻‍♀️

⚠️: sex (P in V)

*********

He'd been here for a month now. He stayed at the little back room attached to the shed at the far end of the property. Every day you'd watch him do odd jobs at the farm. The season demanded that your father be on the fields all day, so he needed someone who'd do the farm work: feed animals, clean up, fix up what needs to be fixed up.

Enter Toji Fushiguro.

Every day you've watched him from your window, doing jobs in this heat, often with his shirt off. You knew every line of his upper body by now.

Which was not difficult since you recalled it every night, whimpering for something bigger, while your poor fingers fucked your needy cunt to a dissatisfied orgasm.

Well, fuck that.

Tomorrow, things were going to change, you decided.

**********

You wait till your father leaves for the day, his pick-up truck just a white dot at the end of a cloud of dust before you go up to your room and change into what you'd affectionately dubbed your "slut clothes".

In reality, it was just a red thong, a rather tight checkered shirt, and a denim skirt.

You give yourself a pep talk. "No backing out now, Y/N. You got this. You need this."

You walk down to the barn confidently. You were a woman on a mission.

********

Toji was inside, stacking hay bales. You watched open mouthed as he easily lifted and tossed them.

"Uhh.. Toji..hi.. I mean... hello!" you stammered, the last greeting coming out louder than the rest.

Toji stops and turns around, taking you in with what looks like contempt in his eyes.

"You want something?" he asks, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Uh..well... actually..yeah..I mean yes," you blurt out staring at his ...well, everywhere.

Toji grins, "Easy sweetheart. Tell me what you want. I got time." He sits down on the hay stacks, legs spread out, all ears.

You take a deep breath. Exhale. "I want you to make me cum," you speak clearly. You had to get the words out before the blood rushing to your face made you pass out.

Toji's eyes widen slightly. "Did I hear you right, sweetheart? You want me to make you.."

"..cum, yes," you finish his sentence, "I've had sex before, so don't worry about that. I just haven't cum from it. And you look like you could..you know...like you know things... I mean...I'm sorry if I assumed.."

You stopped your word-vomit and just stared at him blankly.

Toji wets his bottom lip as he grins again, "An act of service that I'm always up for, sweetheart, is making lonely girls cream."

You turn beet red as he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap easily. "Do you want to kiss, babe?"

You nod and he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and your lips collide. He licks his way into your mouth and you moan as he slowly bites down on your plush lower lip. His other hand rubs slow circles onto the skin of your inner thigh and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each second of what is possibly the hottest kiss of your life.

Toji pulls away and looks at you, "Still with me, sweetheart? Use your words. I like to hear my women when I fuck them."

"Y-Yes I'm here. I'm okay."

"Good. Now stand up, and take your clothes off. Let me see you."

You don't know what courage possessed your legs, but you find yourself standing up, unbuttoning your shirt, you feel the slight breeze hit your nipples. You pull down the skirt and kick away your shoes. You stand before him in your thong, chest slightly heaving, eyes heavy with lust.

Fuck, you hear Toji whisper, "Come sit on my lap."

You gingerly sit on his lap and he holds your legs and hooks them over his thighs, spreading you out.

You gasp and jump, but he holds you down. "You're in my hands now, baby. I got you, okay," he whispers in your ear.

You turn to look at him and he kisses you again, while his hands grope your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your puckered nipples. You moan and grind in his lap, your panties soaked through.

One hand still holding your breast, Toji's other hand travels down to your soaked cunt. He easily moves the flimsy thong to the side and stuffs one thick finger into you. You eagerly move towards the simulation, grateful for the touch where you needed it most.

"Greedy thing. I'll give you more than this," he whispers against your mouth. He tugs at your thong and has it ripped off in seconds, tossing it somewhere in the barn.

You're spread out across his lap, pussy wet and needy, in a barn of all places. Anyone walking by could see you.

It made you wetter, if that was possible.

Toji pushes another finger inside you while his thumb slowly strokes your clit. You learn against his strong chest as you moan and twitch in his hands. He plays your body like he's known it his whole life.

He stops rubbing your clit and pushes a third finger inside you, stretching you out. His fingers rub all the spots that yours could never reach and leaves you unraveled, gushing onto his hand.

There is silence all around except for your pants as you recover from your orgasm. Toji's fingers are still inside you, and you can feel him smiling smugly behind you.

"That good enough for ya, sweetheart?" he teases as he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean.

You would have said yes, if it were not for the the thick length you felt throbbing under your ass.

You grind against him and Toji understands. He tells you to get up, while he takes his pants off.

The thickest cock you'd ever seen slaps against his lower abs. You feel your pussy flood at the thought of it stretching you out.

"I want you to ride me. Want to see those pretty tits bounce in my face."

You position yourself and slowly lower down as you push his cock into your cunt. You bite down on Toji's shoulder as his cock bottoms out; you feel it inside you, hard and thick. Toji grabs your hips and thrusts up into you, and you fall into a rhythm.

His cock is heaven on earth. You feel it inside, touching every bit of you. You feel his heavy balls slap against your ass cheeks. You open your eyes to see Toji's wolfish grin, "Cock-drunk already? Play with those tits, baby."

You fondle your breasts, skin hot and sensitive to the touch. You moan as Toji picks up the pace and leaning forward, grabs your nipple in his mouth. He sucks on it while thrusting into you and you eagerly pull his head closer to your breasts. You can feel his teeth around your flesh, it's going to leave a mark for sure.

"You wanna cum, sweetheart? Yeah? Rub your clit. Let me see."

You touch yourself as he fucks into you and see stars as your orgasm hits. You feel wetness where your thighs meet.

"Can I cum on your sweet tits, dollface?"

You nod dumbly, half dazed from your orgasm. He helps you off and you kneel between his legs and watch as he strokes himself..

Once..

Twice...

Thrice...

And his hot seed spurts onto your tits and chest.

*****

He passes you his shirt to wipe up and waits till you put your clothes on. Then he triumphantly shows you the scrap that is the remains of your thong. "I'm keeping this," he declares.

"Thank you...uh...for..y'know.." you stammer.

"Doesn't have to be the last time, babe. I know which window is your room's. Maybe I can drop in around midnight?"

#toji x y/n #toji scenarios #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji smut #jjk smut #toji jjk #toji fushiguro jjk #smut #toji imagines #toji fushiguro imagines

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mewsingsbynataliek · 1 year ago

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NSR Halloween DLC ideas, just in time for Spooky Night!

The soundtrack for the Halloween DLC would feature instruments associated with the holiday being incorporated into the songs, such as pipe organ and theremin.

The Bosses

DJ Subatomic Supernova

DJSS is a scarecrow, wearing a straw hat, flannel shirt, and denim overalls (cut-off, of course!).

For the battlefield, the background of the Planetarium is a deep orange. The planets he uses to attack are replaced with pumpkins, and the asteroids are replaced by a swarm of crows.

Sayu

Sayu is a cute ghost girl. (I felt it would be fitting since she’s a floaty character.) She's slightly translucent and sports a ghostly wisp-like tail rather than her regular mermaid tail. Her colour palette features off-whites and faded pastels, making her look more etherial.

Sayu wears a tattered white Victorian/Lolita-style dress, lacy cuffs around her wrists and a little bow on her head.

For Phase 2, her dress becomes poofier and more elaborate as small ribbons resembling tentacles appear around her waist. Her trident is completely white.

Phase 3 has her go full-on ghost bride. Her dress has a huge multi-tiered skirt, her hair is adorned with a long veil, and her tentacle ribbons have grown to full length. Her deep-sea mode has her face turn glowing green with solid black eyes, making her resemble a spookfish, while her “tentacles” feature flickering lights similar to a bioluminescent jellyfish.

Her final form is basically your stereotypical bedsheet ghost shape with her legs sticking out the bottom.

Sayu’s team are dressed in dark wizard-like robes, and each of them are wearing masks like the ones worn by Lock, Shock, and Barrel from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

For the battlefield, the “landscape” is dotted with jack-o-lanterns, tombstones, and dead trees. The background is changed to a seafoam green color, with wispy little ghosts flying about.

Yinu and Mother

Yinu is dressed as a cute little witch. Her hair is in pigtails similar to her Christmas skin, and her witch hat is adorned with fall leaves and little jack-o-lanterns.

Mother, meanwhile, is a spooky Halloween tree with spiders. Her dress is a dark wood colour with translucent, ragged-edged sleeves, and she wears a thorny hairband and spiderweb earrings.

The ends of her “hair” have been dyed the same colour as her dress, and she wears both black lipstick and black nail polish.

When she grows bigger, her branches begin to sprout large thorns, which end up making her cage form look more like a spiderweb. (There are even little fake spiders sitting on top of it!)

For the battlefield, the stage is decorated to evoke a bountiful harvest, with pumpkins, hay bales, bundles of wheat, stalks of corn, apple trees, cornucopias, and garlands of leaves.

Both the gate and the giant piano hammers are adorned with thorny branches and autumn leaves.

1010

1010 are pirate ghosts. (As a fun gag, Blue could wear two eyepatches instead of his sunglasses!)

Meanwhile, Neon J is their ghostly captain, complete with a captain’s hat, a sword at his belt, a fake parrot on his shoulder, and – once again – a fake beard attached to his screen head.

For the battlefield, the flying limousine is decked out to look like a pirate ship, with a mast, a crow’s nest, and a tattered sail.

(I felt 1010 as pirates would be fitting since they're a navy-themed boyband and Neon J was a captain in the navy.)

Eve

Eve is dressed as Medusa.

Her dark green dress has a scaly pattern, and she accessories with a lot of gold, including spiralling gold sandals and a golden diadem crown.

Her hair has been dyed, shaped, and styled to look like several little writhing serpents.

Her backpiece is composed of even more snakes in gold and teal which wrap around her upper torso and spread out behind her like a peacock’s tail.

Eve’s pupils even become snake-like starting at Phase 2!

For the battlefield, Eve’s gallery has been transformed into an Ancient Greek temple, but with a postmodern/vapourwave twist. Stylized Greco-Roman columns with snakes wrapped around them line the walls, and an ancient looking gold chandelier hangs from the ceiling. The left side would be eggplant purple while the right side would be cerulean blue.

If the player gets hit by the eye lasers from Eve’s giant statue, they’ll actually turn to stone and be frozen in place for a short time.

For Phase 2, on Mayday’s side, the snakes wrapped around the columns have grown larger and are now looming over Mayday, their faces twisted into angry snarls (representing Eve’s derisiveness and hostility towards May).

Meanwhile, Zuke’s side features floating fragments of ruined columns (representing how lost and incomplete Eve felt after Zuke left her).

Phase 3 is where it really starts to get trippy. Both rooms feature ruined columns and floating shards, along with giant brightly colored snakes slithering all over the background.

The shards in Zuke’s side reflect images of faces screaming in anguish, while the shards on Mayday’s side have limbs protruding from them- one shard has three legs protruding from them in reference to a trinacia. (Look up what a trinacia is to understand the reference!)

Tatiana

Tatiana is a vampire.

She wears black and red robes with bat wing-edged sleeves and a wide collar. Her earrings are coffin shaped, and she has small, pointed fangs that can be seen when she opens her mouth.

At the beginning of her battle, she starts throwing flaming bats.

For the battlefield, Tatiana's office/battle arena is made to feel like a vampire’s castle tower.

The whole room is lit with a deep red glow, and the tall windows that feature the NSR murals are topped with pointed arches, giving them a Gothic look.

You can even see some glass bottles filled with (ahem) red liquid on Tatiana’s desk.

Meanwhile, the Goolings' stage outside is decorated with jack-o-lanterns and hanging skeletons.

DK West

DK West is dressed as Frankenstein FrankenWest!

His look consists of neck bolts, stitch markings, and a dark ragged recolour of his original outfit.

His bull shadow puppet has matching neck bolts, which even emit shadowy electricity when it appears during the battle.

Bunk Bed Junction

Mayday

Mayday is dressed as an imp, wearing a bright red dress with black sleeves and waistcoat, black wings, red horns, and a red tail.

Her guitar is deep purple and splattered with glowing orange paint. It emits a wolf howl when she powers it up for the Showstopper.

Zuke

Zuke is a werewolf. Ragged clothes with fake fur poking out, extra fur attached to his forearms (don’t ask how got it on there), pointed ears, a bushy tail, pointed fangs, his nose has been painted. Pretty simple.

His drumsticks are splattered with glowing green paint and tipped with tiny light-up pumpkins.

The Other NPCs

Ellie has little bat wings attached to her back and wears a springy bat antenna headband.

And last but not least,

Kliff . . . is just wearing a pair of Groucho Marx glasses. Yup. That's it.

Let me know what you all think. I’d love to hear some feedback. Thanks for reading! Happy Halloween!

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dyrewrites · 2 months ago

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Sales and Snips -- Shorts

All my short stories are on sale, so I thought it would be fun to share some snips not offered in their previews.

In the Marrow

She had no time to consider the fresh oddity as the midday sun raged and fierce orange light broke free of the window and rushed into the hall. It burned along the tables, blasted through vases of crumpled flowers, crackled along family portraits and clawed across the worn and peeling wallpaper. The sunlight devoured all it touched in its searing bright and she felt, in its baleful glow, an insatiable hunger. A hunger for her. Hazel screamed. She couldn’t help it and, though she clasped her mouth shut the second it escaped, the scream was out. She winced and scrunched up into herself. Her joints cried out in their crackling voices but Hazel managed to crouch and wrap her arms about her knees.

Can't you see me?

The banister was long, too long. I could never scream enough to coat it all. I told her this house was too big, but there were four of us and all the cats and she wanted dogs and I screamed. I screamed and I wailed and the cats began to yowl somewhere in the rooms below and the air chilled. The banister chilled, collecting particles of deathly frost until it all but gleamed a ghostly white. Then I flickered and I felt them, the rough claws raking through me, pulling apart whatever was left of me inside the spectral goo I had become. Then…I felt nothing at all.

Don't Look

I snap a picture of the setting sun for my fiancé—fun word to say, ‘fiancé’, I hope he’s having fun with the kitties—and decide to do a solo walkthrough, of this clearly different apartment, before unpacking and settling in. The place is odd, sure, but not ugly. The designs are elegant, and there’s a classical flair to the furniture. It’s beautiful, in a dark, gothic sort of way…what with all the birds. I can’t tell if they’re crows or ravens, but they’re definitely one of the two. Big, black and everywhere; they’re woven into the slender, patterned couch and the stiff, stuffed chairs—each of which stand on what look like talons. There’s birds carved into the black wood fixtures and mixed into the wallpaper and even a few statuettes on the indented shelves of the walls. An especially ominous bird looms over the front door—definitely a raven, no other bird glares like that—but I can’t look at it for long without feeling those beady black eyes looking back.

The Portrait

Reginald rolled and purred for pets as Miriam studied the package and he chirped when she edged toward the unremarkable parcel and tore a corner of paper away. A corner that drooped and peeled and sent Reginald under the ottoman as the rest of the paper peeled off with it. “What a brave protector you are,” Miriam chided but what lie beneath the paper choked her good humor. The harsh but elegantly painted face that glared at her with shadowed eyes resembled her great aunt. Younger, certainly, but those thin lips held the disaffected scowl that Miriam had been on the receiving end of enough to recognize. She recoiled from that scowl, curling tighter into herself and pinched her eyes shut. It stared all the same.

Snowblind

It unfurled as incandescent tendrils, stretching, reaching. And you reached back, didn't you? All that warmth in all this cold, who couldn't? Everyone reached, eager for its radiance on their skin, its heat in their veins, its colors in their eyes... Yet it curled for you and you alone, twisting tight around your fingers, up your arms. Such comfortable heat it shared, its touch softly electrifying as it dug and squirmed into ears, nose...mouth. Mm, did you enjoy its taste? The sharp spark and salt-sweet thrum on your tongue was enchanting, wasn’t it? Its whispers evermore.

#snippet #writing #queer horror #horror #short stories #ebooks #itchio #fall sale #indie publishing #indie author #indie books

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ledgerserious8 · 8 months ago

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Prince Bat | Bruce Wayne (Bale) & Reader

Warning : Don't copy my writing Don't steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing

Genre : Love Smut

Summary : Bruce will give You his gift..

Word count : 8.3k

The whole party was a great success, Everything that he had planned was making this day more special for you.

You looked so pretty in that black peplum pleated dress and the white rivere necklace around your neck and everything in you can melt Bruce completely.

The way you was handling all the attention is just proof of you composure and grace. You looked like a princess here now

"Dear do you like this party?" - Bruce asked you calmly as smiling at you

I just want you to enjoy today." - He added softly while still staring at you with so much love

"I'm enjoying this a lot, thank you for everything you did for me bruce" - You replied calmly and politely and your eyes showing how much you thanked him for everything

"You are looking so stunning sweetheart" - Bruce confessed playfully while still watching you

His eyes just couldn't get enough of this beauty

"May I have this dance my princess" - He asked you as he held your hand

"I would love that" - You replied calmly as smirking charmingly and playfully to him

And that made him the happiest person to have walked on this earth

He just pulled you even closer as he was about to start the dance, But he just waited for you to move first

He wanted it to feel like you was guiding the dance or at least that's what he wanted

"I promise I'll lead you" - Bruce explained softly as looking into your eyes

"This time you move" - You whispered against his ear as your fingers on his shoulder

Your request was simple and reasonable and that's what he liked about her the most, You just looked at his eyes with a smile as you wanted him to make the first move

He didn't waste any moment and just took you by your hand and just started the dance

Even though he was leading he was actually letting you take the reigns as he was just following you as the dance the both of you were doing was actually a simple one

It was just two people swaying their bodies close to each other and spinning around in a circle

"You look handsome like a prince bat" - You whispered as chuckled softly.

He smiled as he tightened the grip around your waist, He loved it how you was giggling after he started rolling you with him

It was just a very simple roll and that's what he was doing, This made you look more like a princess now

"Shall I spin you princess?" - Bruce asked you softly as the two of you swayed your bodies to the music

"Hey stop making me blushing" - You admitted as your cheeks started turning into red rose

As soon as you said this he actually felt your blushing before your cheeks get red but he didn't show that he knew it

He just didn't wanted this moment to end, He wanted to keep spinning you as long as he could

His one hand was around your waist as he was now pulling you even closer to him now as the other hand was on your hair

"Why?" - He whispered as the both of you were rolling around together

"Is it because you can't handle how much I love you?"- He asked you playfully as the both of you started slowing down now

and suddenly you wrapping your arms around his neck was the most beautiful thing ever

He kept one arm around your waist and another one get around your neck from behind now

He loved this close contact as he was so close to you so much now

The music was still playing and the two of you were still just swaying slowly

Your eyes were still locked in his as he could just lose his senses in that beauty of yours

"Shall we slow down the pace?" - Bruce whispered as he was caressing your cheeks by his fingers

You didn't response you just closed your eyes slowly and let your lips touched the lips of your four-month boyfriend

He was in the beginning of his double life as batman but also in the beginning of his love relationship with someone he could love and that person was...you

As soon as he felt the touch of your lips on his own he stopped moving or dancing

your soft lips just made that guy melt, Just the kiss of your lips was enough to make him lose any sense of control he had over himself

He was losing himself in the sweetness of kiss as he felt like his heart was melting with your touch

The kiss made him forget everything around him and just focus on the feeling of his lips and your lips

And just for a few long seconds your lips and his were just few inches away from each other now

The breath was still coming out from the both of your mouths in the form of mist

The intense kissing and the romance made the emotions of that moment too high and the both of you were both breathless

Both of you were panting now and that was making this moment even more romantic

"Shall we go to my room now sweetheart?"- Bruce asked you with a loving grin on his face.

"Your room?" - You whispered seriously as trying to catch your breath

His heart skipped a beat as he heard the serious tone of your voice.

"I want to make love to you I want to be your first everything just like you're to me" - Bruce confessed honestly as looking into your eyes

'just how you're my first hug my first kiss and will be my first time I can't contain myself anymore just by being with you" - Bruce whispered softly as grabbed your hands and locked his fingers with yours

"Please give me all of yourself." - He begged as he was holding you tight to him with both of his hands now

Your eyes widen because his words to you proved he never was with another woman and he never being touched, yes everyone was wanting him but it's him who decided

He was in the beginning of his life in the Wayne manor and alfred and even as batman so he decided to wait to get someone but he never expected he will find you easily

"You really want to be my first man?" - You asked him calmly as started smiling

"You know I have always wanted this," - Bruce whispered honestly

"I've been wanting to be your first man ever since the first day you came into my life." s His voice was now filled with love and affection

I want to make you completely mine now." - Bruce explained as he was leaning even more towards you

He closed his eyes as letting his forehead touched yours and let out a long deep sigh

And again your answer was just a passionate kiss to his kissable lips

The passionate kissing sent a rush through his body right down to his very soul

Your soft lips and the feeling of her kiss sent him over the edge and he was so aroused he just went crazy

He just couldn't contain his excitement now and had to take you to his room to make you his

As soon as you give "Yes" hint his body responded and he just took you up in his arms and started walking upstairs towards his room

And he just continued to hold you in his arms as he was now carrying you upstairs

"We will be good" - Bruce whispered softly against your ear

The both of you reached his room and as soon as the both of you did his fingers closed the door behind him and locked it

The room was completely dark except for the tiny bit of light coming in from the window in the room showing the moonlight

Now you and him could finally be alone in privacy after a long time of being busy

"Bruce" - You whispered his name softly as the nervousness was into your tone and he knew it

"Lets take this slowly baby" - Bruce explained after noticed your nervously as he slowly put you down on his big size bed

"I want us both to be in a comfortable position and relax as now it'll be our first time and first time is pretty important." - Bruce whispered as he was getting top on you on the bed

He then started taking his black suit and tie and his top off as well

He was down to his shirt and started unclipped it slowly and gently by his fingers

You can now see his chiseled chest with every movement as he started taking his undershirt off himself and now you can see his chiseled chest

His body was so perfect and toned with muscles all over and the shape of his muscular chest added to your charm

Your face was too red enough to make your hands moved and covered your face as started biting your bottom lip

"Don't be embarrsed my girl" - Bruce whispered as he was just looking at you from a top

His body was now fully shirtless and he was just watching your adorable face

His muscular body was shining in the light coming from the window and he was such a sight to behold as he had such a perfect body

I'll just have to see every inch of you soon anyways." - Bruce explained playfully now getting the top of his jeans off

your eyes opened and were still locked into his eyes as you was just taking in the beauty of his look

The both of you were so close that your breaths were actually him like the both of you touching each other

"Baby the way you look at me just makes me crazy inside." - Bruce whispered softly as smirking

His voice was as if he was about to tear your clothes off right now because he could not control his excitement

He just wanted you so bad at that moment it was becoming unbearable now

His eyes were burning with love as soon as you looked into his eyes

The love that he felt for you was so intense that it could overcome any obstacle in its path and nothing can withstand the power of such love

With this he gently took your lips and now started making out with you passionately

Your arms around his neck just made him lose himself in you

He was now full of lust and you was just making him more and more hungry for you

He was kissing you like there is no tomorrow after he took all your clothes and his in one time

His hands have started exploring your naked body and he was just giving up to the desire of his desires

Your arms around his neck felt like the both of you had been there in his entire life and he was now feeling complete now with you like this

He was kissing you passionately and intensely and there was no way that he could hold back now

I want you so badly right here and now" - You whispered in a low and soft voice as he was kissing you more passionately

You started moaning his name softly as his mouth was eating your nipples as his fingers squeezed them and then getting down to lick your stomach

"Ahh" - You moaned out softly as his tongue was playing on your stomach and getting down

He let his head between your thighs as giving you a few love bites around your thighs as looking at you with his sharp eyes..

Even when it's first time but Bruce seem the god of this sex..

"Please Bruce" - You begged him heavily as trying to catch your breath during your fingers grabbed the bedsheet

"Not yet" - Bruce replied teasingly as smirking charmingly at you and keep giving you love bites

You keep moaning and sweating more than before as you started biting your bottom lip but suddenly you felt something inside you..a finger

"Bruce your-" - You whispered but he cut you off by kissing your lips passionately

He was moving his finger inside you slowly and started getting it in and out a few times before he added his other finger

Now it's two fingers..inside you

He started kissing your neck passionately as he still fingering you and moving his fingers so fast inside of you just to make you moan more

"Please I'm c-" - You begged him but again he cut you off but this time by his voice

"I know baby just go ahead" - Bruce whispered softly as smiling by noticed the pleasure on your expression

Suddenly he pushed his fingers so hard inside you and it's made you shouted as your back ached while your juices getting into his fingers and covered them

He pulled his fingers out of you as started sucking them by his mouth while looking at you with smirk..bat smirk

"That was so good" - You whispered honestly as trying to calm yourself down

"I know but we're not done yet" - He whispered softly against your ear as his fingers touching your waist

"I know" - You whispered back cutely making him chuckled softly

"I will be so gentle and slowly with you okay?" - He whispered as he was top on you under the covers and you both naked

"Okay" - You whispered as closing your eyes and your nails was on the skin of his back

He closed his eyes as hiding his face against your neck and you felt his cock started getting inside you slowly trying to not hurt you

He was trying to not move at first but if he moved he need to make sure you're okay first because he can feel your nails tightened on his skin

"Please start" - You whispered as your fingers through his hair while giving him the permission

You can feel him nodded silently as he started thrusting inside you more deeply but so slowly to be careful

His movement was extremely gentle and slow with the biggest of attention on you

He was trying to be gentle and slowly as he promised you because it's the first time of the both of you

He was really taking it slowly because he wanted the experience to be the most pleasurable one for both of you

With you hugging him tightly he also had the opportunity to explore your body with his hands which was just so arousing for you

This was really the best experience that you both hoped for from the both of your first time

Of course he was nervous about everything happening right now but he hide it to not make you nervous more

He was also moving with all the attention to you and your pleasure and he was feeling all the more excited with your touch now

He continued moving slowly under the covers and was now making sure that your pleasure was as much as his

"You feel so good baby" - Bruce whispered now as his movements slowed down even more

You didn't give him any response because you started biting your bottom lip lightly and painfully

Your painfull bite on your bottom lip was so hot now and it started making his breath get even more heavier

This was the very reason that the two of you were so compatible with each other

The chemistry between you just so perfect that the both of you could read each other so well and you loved feeling his body on yours and he loved everything about you body

He kissed your lips and moved up to your neck again and started kissing you there

"You're hurt babygirl? do you feel anything wrong my girl?" - Bruce whispered as keep kissing your neck and thrusting inside you slowly under the covers

"it's just a little bit painful but please go faster" - You confessed honestly as making noises

Hearing your words made him so excited that he just couldn't stop now

You biting your lips was really a visual pleasure for him because he could feel you was going crazy after tasting him which was the whole point

So knowing that you was enjoying it was enough for him to keep going and also the fact that now you was actually asking him that meant she wanted him to go more wild and he wanted nothing else than that

He started kissing your neck more aggressively now with his lips and even his tongue on your neck

"It's our first time and I don't want you to just have pleasure but it should be a perfect and memorable experience for both of us." - He whispered against your ear

"I know just keep faster" - You begged him as your nails was making a little lines scars on his back

The fact that you asked him to go faster was enough to make him do just that

It was like you was already reading his mind at this point and it turned him on so much that his body was actually shaking a little

He moved faster into the motion under the covers and was driving you crazy with his kisses and bitings on you body

And his cock inside you was just eating you out so hard

He was holding your face and kissing your neck more and more fiercely which was sending you into such a hot zone that you was almost at the point of no return

"Baby look at me. look into my eyes"- Bruce whispered as cupped your face and you looked into his eyes

"See? see how much i love you so fucking much" - He whispered with deep voice as moving faster under the covers

"I'm seeing this very well" - You replied heavily as your tears started falling making him worried about you

"Shhhh sweetheart what is it?" - He asked you as he started rubbing your back by his fingers

The tears on your eyes just killed him inside because he thought that he was the cause for this and he was completely terrified now

"What's wrong love?" - He asked you with a soft concerned voice while slowing the motion of his thrusts under the covers and just held you close to him

"I'm just so close enough" - You whispered as you closed your eyes tightly making him start smirking

"It's okay I get you baby" - He whispered softly as started moving so faster inside you under the covers

His fingers grabbed yours and locked with them as the bed started shaking because of the movement of the both of you and your moans with his groans filled the room

Even his tears was falling during he was kissing your eyes to wipe your tears but it's just too pleasure

It's just took a few more minutes as the sound of your moans and his groans filled the room and he loved every second of it

"Oh god baby" - Bruce groaned loudly with your moans

He just felt so satisfied that he was able to make you feel so good and that too in the very first time

Your body was now shaking and you was in your ultimate climax with him while you was moaning his name loudly

He kept moving at the pace which was taking you to your ultimate climax and making your orgasm more better

Feeling your warm body underneath him with the breathings heavy of yours was just so hot that he just didn't wanted to move from this

He stayed the way he was on top of you as the breathings of the both of you slowed down after a while

He was looking at your body shaking and your face covered in sweat and it was all because of him

The thought made him really feel proud of himself

The both of you were taking small breaths now and could barely speak

He kept looking at your face as it was getting more and less red due to the sweat with your body still shaking

With his hands on your face, he looked at you you was the only person in the world who mattered to him

'I'm yours now baby..not just from the first moment i put my eyes on you" - Bruce whispered as kissing your forehead and nose as still cupped your face

"Mine all mine?" - You whispered tirelessly as smiling warmly at him

"Your breath alone was making me crazy so how can I not give you my love?" - He replied as he still held your face close to his

He suddenly saw your eyes on the clock on the wall as it was showing that it was three after midnight

The both of you had already lost track of time but it was all worth it

He looked at you and you had such a cute smile while all your body was relaxed

"We were so busy in each other that we missed the time" - Bruce explained calmly as he was looking at you and his fingers stocking your hair

"Yeah but I promise I will keep lying on the bed to stay with you more time" - You promised him honestly as smiling cutely

Hearing your promise and feeling your fingers playing with his chin made his heart skip a beat

All his worries and fears just vanished in no time

The way the both of you were so close to each other now made him feel so much loved and safe in your arms

He couldn't help but bury his face and even further into your neck

It was just so comforting to be held in your arms

He was now caressing your back while still having his face buried deep into your neck with his eyes closed

"Shh sleep" - You whispered against his ear as your fingers playing with his hair

His eyes were now closed as he took deep breaths and was now feeling really comfortable in your arms

He had already put all his worries and anxiety to rest after hearing your promise and his only thought now was to sleep

He couldn't control himself from feeling so relaxed in your warm embrace

With his body now fully relaxed he didn't even mind how his face was buried deep into your neck

His whole body felt as light as a feather and he was just slowly nodding off

"I love you baby" - He whispered still with his eyes closed

"I love you too my handsome man" - You replied shortly as smiling and closed your eyes

These words from your mouth made his heart beat so much faster

Hearing you call him her "Handsome" and then adding calling him only 'Man' was extremely charming

This gave him that extra comfort feeling in your warm embrace as his body was feeling completely relaxed

These words now made him feel as he was a man completely under your spell as you had now conquered your man

He was now feeling so much loved in your arms, so much safe and protected by you

"I'm your one and only Bruce." - Bruce admitted and he too closed his eyes

You just nodded to him silently as the breathings of you both became slow and calm as your bodies fell in a deep sleep

The both of you were sleeping soundly and all your worries were taken care of by each other.

The both of you held each other tightly while sleeping as you both felt safe and protected with each other

It was just like a perfect image of love and beauty

The both of you were sound asleep in each other's arms with your love keeping you both together

But because Bruce was orphan man he was hugging you so tightly under the covers

That was your man and he was so different yet you loved this so much more then anything else in this world

He can be a orphan man with tenderness childish heart he can be batman he can be the most serious man and the most soft too

He was The bat of Gotham and also of your life forever and ever and also he was..

Prince Bat

#actors #celebrities #imagines #bruce wayne bale #bruce wayne christian bale #bruce wayne #batman begins #batman #christian bale x reader #christian bale #bale #the dark knight

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