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thexsilentxwordsmith · 10 days ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Your relationship was all a lie and the confrontation about it happens in front of everyone, including a certain lieutenant that has a secret. Seeing you so upset has him following after you with a need to help and after a confrontation, there is a confession that happens that changes everything.

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings: Feelings of worthlessness, Slight violence, Confessions, Kissing, Fluff and angst

Lt. Riley looks up from his plate of dinner as a commotion across the mess hall grabs his attention away from his thoughts. The noise rings out above the droll evening conversations that surround him as he sits in solitude eating dinner and his eyes dart around until he finds the source. He can see you over at your table sitting amongst a couple of fellow sergeants, one of which you were involved with, and he watches as you shove your chair back and launch up onto your feet as a flurry of angry words spew from your mouth.

“You’re fucking serious?” you shoot the accusation to the sergeant in front of you as he and a few of his friends look as if they’re trying to hide their smiles and laughter behind their hands.

The chatter in the hall dies down to almost nothing as faces turn to watch. You can feel the staring eyes from all around you, but you are too furious to care who sees or hears what as the only thing you can focus on is what you had just been told.

“Answer me!” you yell, not caring about anything other than getting a response.

The sergeant straightens his face as he looks around to see he has all eyes on him. “Well, yeah,” he answers as if it should be obvious. “You didn’t really think I was serious…”

You don’t let the stupid boy finish his sentence before you heatedly cut back in, the redness in your face matching the indignation in your voice. “So, it was a fucking lie. All of it? I can’t…” you take a deep, rushed breath, as if struggling to intake enough air to finish, “you goddamn bastard!”

Reaching back towards the table you pick up your cup full of water into your hand and fling the contents directly into his face before flipping his plate of food into his lap. He too jumps to his feet as he curses your name, calling you a fucking bitch, but nothing he says now can touch the pain of what he had just revealed.

Lt. Riley waits anxiously on the edge of his seat as he watches this unfold, ready to jump up in a flash and intervene if needed, but before the sergeant can even think about making a move you toss the empty cup to the ground with a reverberating clang and turn to storm past tables filled with whispering military personnel.

You pass by Lt. Riley’s table on your way to the doors of the mess and in that split second as he looks into your face he can see that your eyes aren’t just cold and sharp, but that there is a shine to them that he recognizes; you aren’t just angry, this is something more.

Without a second thought Lt. Riley is situating his mask back down over the lower half of his face, leaving everything else behind on the table to swiftly follow after in your footsteps. Night is just beginning to fall as he makes it outside, but it’s still light enough that he can see you up ahead and he takes off in your direction. Your rage-fueled steps have already carried you a good ways ahead of him and he has to book it to even get close enough that you’ll hear him try to get your attention.

“Sergeant, stop,” Lt. Riley calls out after you once he gets within range.

Your heart skips as you recognize the voice of your lieutenant behind you. Please, no; why does it have to be him? Why now, in one of your lowest moments? You’re no fool, you realize your confrontation drew a lot of attention back there, but you are on the verge of losing it and there is one person that you desperately don’t want to see you like this - at your worst.

You have to get to the safety of your room before he has to see you fall apart.

You defy his order and keep the pace fast. “Not now, sir,” you return over your shoulder, choking back the tears burning your eyes and blurring your vision as your chest feels too tight to breathe.

The lieutenant’s still hot on your tail as you quickly walk through the base determinedly headed towards the barracks. He can’t recall a time in the past two years where you’ve ever been this upset and something about that tugs violently on his heartstrings so that he won’t stop till he is certain that you will be okay.

The buildings pass one after another in rapid succession, the lines from their shadows growing longer by the second, until he tries to call out once more. “I said stop, private. Tha’s an order,” he returns, putting the authority into his voice so that you are forced to slow out of policy for your commanding officer. It’s the last resort he has at his disposal, but he hates to see the way you bristle at his words.

He wants to be a comfort, not another source of stress.

You plant your feet firmly into the ground and grit your teeth behind your closed lips. The tears are welling at the rims of your eyes and it won’t be long before they breach the barrier and roll down your cheeks. You need to make this fast; you’ve already been made to look a fool today, you don’t want it made worse by letting him see you weak about it.

“Yes, sir?” you say cold and clinical as the crunch of Lt. Riley’s boots get closer and closer until he makes his way around the front to come face to face.

It is obvious from the way your eyes glisten and your face twitches as you desperately try to control it that you are in distress something terrible. He can only imagine all the things you must be feeling in this moment after just having witnessed that public display: you’re probably embarrassed and feeling vulnerable. If it was him, he would not want anyone to see him like this and he knows he needs to get you out of the way of any prying eyes and fast, but where?

Looking behind you he realizes that you’ve come to stop right in front of the rec center; perfect, it’s still vacant for the moment. You can talk without having to worry about anyone skulking about. Pointing a finger towards the door he gives you a brief “come on, follow me inside” and you do as you’re told, praying that this will be swift.

An electrical buzz rings out through the stillness inside as Lt. Riley throws the switches to illuminate the space and as he tends to that you walk off into the interior in a huff. He makes sure the door is secure behind you both and satisfied with how you’re locked in, he follows and finds you leaning against the far back wall, kicking it with the heel of your shoe over and over, harder and harder.

Your ears pick up his approach, but that isn’t the only thing they catch. You heard that click as the lock was latched; now there is nowhere to hide from those dark, discerning eyes… the same ones that make your pulse race. All the emotion coursing through you gives rise to old feelings that you buried and now that you are alone again all at once you’re back to those days when you would get butterflies whenever you knew he would be around.

And that makes this ten times worse.

“Care ta tell me what the hell that was about?” he asks as he comes to stand in front of you. His voice is firm, but not unkind.

In your sensitive state you mistake his tone as a reprimand rather than concern and you’re sure you’ve done it now. He’s here to simply discipline you for the infraction you’ve broken that will get you a week’s worth of firewatch or worse for causing havoc in the mess, but you don’t care. That bastard deserved worse and your superior should be glad that you restrained yourself from actually doing something harmful like bashing his stupid fucking face into the table.

You answer straightforwardly, but avoid his eyes to stare at the floor as you start to pace back and forth, your hand brushing along the wall as you walk to distract yourself from the emotion tearing at your insides. “Nothing of concern, sir.”

He takes another few steps towards you to close some of the distance. “I think it is. That was quite tha display.”

You inhale deep, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you give a short summary that will hopefully get him off your back… or at least get him to issue you your punishment faster. “Personal matter, it’s over now. It won’t happen again, sir.”

He knows that isn’t the whole truth, otherwise your eyes wouldn’t be shimmering and your cheeks flushed. It’s killing him to see you suffering and not be able to do anything about it, though he doesn’t know how to say he cares without giving away a secret he’s been keeping hidden for a while now; a reason that causes him to be here trying to comfort in his own strange way.

A reason that makes him keep a close eye on you more and more recently, that makes his heart skip a beat whenever you are near, a reason that had made him jealous of your relationship with that no good sergeant in the first place.

So he stays silent for a moment, unsure of what to do here; he doesn’t want to make things worse than they already are for you, but he needs to know how to fix this and that won’t happen until you talk. The longer he stands quietly, the more that truth that was just revealed to you gnaws away at your composure until the pacing isn’t enough to stop the emotion welling up inside and it slowly starts leaking out so that before he can speak again, you start to talk.

“I-” you hesitate “I’m just a fucking joke, that’s all,” you say, a lump forming in your throat that causes your voice to waver. “I should have known better, that a guy like that would never want to be with someone like me.”

“Tha’s not true,” Lt. Riley interjects, but you shake your head, the pacing getting faster as everything spills out.

“Oh it is,” you say as you grit your teeth, unable to hold back the words. “The only way someone like that would ever be with me is through something as fucking stupid as a bet.”

The lieutenant’s brow furrows under his mask at your oddly specific statement. “What do ya mean?”

You bite your lip as a tear too engorged to keep contained rolls engorged down the side of your cheek and onto your shirt as you make another pass along the wall. A heavy sigh of defeat breaks from your mouth; you’ve already said more than you should have, you guess you can keep going.

Why not let your whole life fall apart?

You clear your throat. “You see, that bitch and his so-called friends made a bet amongst themselves to see how long he could fool me into dating him. And it worked.”

The emotion is so intense that you hang your head in shame as more tears start to fall like rain onto the tips of your shoes, leaving a trail along the ground as you continue to make your passes back and forth. “Apparently I’m pretty fucking gullible it seems. I just thought someone could actually like me, but it wasn’t real, none of it…all of it was a goddamn lie. And I fell for it like a fucking lovesick idiot.”

“Oi.” The lieutenant’s intense interjection makes you stop in your tracks and look up at him. “Don’t ya ever fuckin’ say that ‘bout yourself,” he says heatedly. “Those fuckin’ boys are the ones that’re the imbeciles. Ta think that anyone’d ‘ave ta make a bet ta be with ya is ludacris.”

You divert your gaze again. “That’s not true. Do you know how many times I’ve been asked out since I was transferred here?”

He shakes his head even if you aren’t looking to see it. “No.”

“Twice. Just twice,” you admit sheepishly. “And one of those was by a drunk down at the bar off base so I don’t think he really even meant it. I’m a fucking joke.”

“Stop,” he says, but you ignore him.

“Why? Why deny the truth?” you ask.

The flood is released and the tears fall even heavier as you hurriedly try to rub them away with the back of your arm, but they can’t be stopped now. It’s all too much: knowing that you weren’t even liked and having to reveal all of this to the only other person you ever desired in this hell hole. A sharp, stabbing pain pierces your stomach so that you have to wrap your arms around yourself to keep it together as if at any moment you will break apart.

You swallow hard. “I mean…” you have to clear you throat “fuck, I just want to be someone’s first choice, you know? The person that someone would do anything to be with. But no one ever chooses me. Maybe I’m just meant to keep making a fool of myself chasing something I’ll never have.”

The lieutenant is furious now not with you, but with the fact that no one has ever made you feel like the amazing person you are. How dare anyone make you think such things about yourself like that. Just because one stupid boy can’t see the whole entire package you are doesn’t mean that no one can… that he can’t see it. A brilliant mind, a gorgeous face, a tough fighter, and a firm leader, there is so much in you to admire and adore.

It makes him burn with rage that that jackass should get away with this type of destruction without consequence.

He can’t do it, he cannot stand here and allow that piece of shit sergeant to ruin your self-esteem. The anger is visible in his gaze and he is breathing heavily as he struggles to contain it. Now that he knows the truth about what was done to you he isn’t going to sit idly by and allow anyone to hurt you. He is going to make sure that he makes that bastard pay.

“Look at me,” he says suddenly and you do. “Wait here. I need ya to wait here till I get back. Can ya do that?”

There is such fury in his voice that it nearly chokes him and without waiting for your reply he swivels around and rushes back to the front of the rec in a flurry of anger with only one objective in mind: find that son of a bitch that ever thought he could hurt you and make him fear for his pathetic life.

“Wait, where are you going, sir? Lieutenant?” you call after him, but he doesn’t answer and the door slams shut so that you are left standing alone in utter confusion.

Lt. Riley knows exactly where to start and sure enough the lieutenant spots the sergeant making his way from the mess, laughing with his friends like he doesn’t have a care in the world and his blood begins to boil over. After having to watch those pained tears fall from your eyes, seeing this asshole so cheery makes him murderous.

There is no warning, no call out or any sound to give the sergeant a heads up until a force like a freight train is dragging him behind the next building over, further into the shadow even as night is now almost completely set in, and he is suddenly pinned to the brick wall by his throat. He struggles against that grasp, but can’t break free and finally he decides to look into the face of whoever it is that has launched this assault. What he is met with are those piercing dark eyes glaring at him through a gap in a black balaclava.

A shiver runs up his spine, making him unable to speak. His friends intercede with their pleas on his behalf, but the lieutenant is having none of it; he has no more patience for anything anyone has to say right now. His mind is too focused on what he feels he must do.

“Unless ya want the same, I suggest ya fuck off,” he growls at the group as he stares them down with a monsterously terrifying glare, the venom in his voice enough to make them shiver in fear. The threat is intimidating enough that they immediately realize the weight of the situation and are quick to disperse, leaving their friend to whatever fate is his.

Alone now, he turns his attention back to the sergeant who looks as white as a sheet even in the dark and he shoves him harder into the wall to make the rough surface dig into his back through his t-shirt. “I d-don’t know what’s going on, s-sir,” the sergeant says feebly.

“Don’t know?” the lieutenant scoffs as his hand tightens around the boy’s neck before easing only enough that the bastard can still breathe. “Ya must be quick ta fuckin’ forget.”

The sergeant stares up into that masked face disoriented by the sudden hostile confrontation.

“S-sir?”

Lt. Riley gets into his face. “Ya think ya can just use people and get away with it, do ya? Ya think nothin’ will happen to ya?” he asks in a snarl and he can feel the boy swallow hard under his hand.

“I…what…” the sergeant stammers.

Again that gloved hand tightens around the sergeant’s neck. “Ya heard me, boy. I heard ‘bout what ya did to your fellow sergeant. People like you fuckin’ disgust me.”

“It was… j-just a prank…” the sergeant tries to backpedal, but the lieutenant is quick to cut him off.

“I’m only gonna tell ya once and take this as a final warning. Ya ever even look at Sgt. Y/N again and I’ll be sure there ain’t a piece a ya ta fuckin’ identify. Do. You. Understand. Boy?”

A shiver runs through the sergeant at those threatening words and his entire body begins to shake in the lieutenant’s grasp like a leaf in the breeze. “Answer,” Lt. Riley barks.

“Y-yes, s-sir.”

The lieutenant gives one last hard squeeze, trying to make that miscreant think that he isn’t going to let go, before he quickly releases him and the sergeant stumbles as he takes a step to the side to get out of harm’s way. “Now, get outta my fuckin’ sight ‘fore I change my mind and drive ya through this fuckin’ wall.”

He watches as the now terrified sergeant trips over his own feet trying to scurry away like the vermin he is and only once he is out of sight does the lieutenant start his adrenaline-fueled trek back to the rec, mouthing silent pleas behind the mask that you are still there and hadn’t decided to slip out because he won’t let this day end without making sure that you know how much you are wanted.

You jump as you hear the door open harshly, breaking the silence of the building, and it makes your heart leap into your throat as you watch as the lieutenant makes a beeline straight for where you stand. He doesn’t stop until he is standing just a few inches from your body, his chest heaving up and down laboriously from his hurry to get back.

You want to ask what is going on, why he left so abruptly, but he interjects before you can even get your question out.

“I want ya ta tell me why ya think ya can’t be someone’s first choice?”

The question seems so strange after being left alone randomly as the lieutenant went god knows where and it makes you pause out of confusion.

“...what?” you ask.

He rephrases. “Who said you weren’t someone’s first choice?”

What the hell is happening? Disoriented and still upset, you aren’t sure what he is trying to say. All you can guess is that this is some sort of weird feel good speech opening and going off that, you answer.

“Sir, if this is some strange way of saying that there are plenty of fish in the sea or another meaningless platitude that people spout whenever someone gets hurt, you don’t have to say it. I’ve heard them all thousands of times and they’re not actually helpful.”

Those stark eyes shadowed inside his disguise soften as he speaks, though his breath is still fast, but not from exertion anymore. “ ‘s not what I’m sayin’,” he returns.

You look at him and he stares right back at you, his gaze unwavering as the thought hangs heavily in the air while he waits for you to recognize the intention behind the phrase. Your eyes linger on one another, no words being said as the last bit of your tears dry on your cheeks, until understanding begins to slowly wash over you like a wave.

“Sir?” you ask quietly, not sure if you believe what your thoughts are trying to tell you. “Areyou saying…”

Your sentence is cut off as the lieutenant moves in and he gently places his gloved hands on either side of your face. Lt. Riley can hear the hitch as you struggle to catch your breath; never has he shared such an intimate connection with you like this before and all you can do is peer up into his masked face while your mind reels and your pulse quickens under his palms.

“Ya are someone’s first choice,” he murmurs before stopping.

No, this isn’t right and he needs to do this right. The lieutenant removes his hands from your face to pull off those bits of cloth keeping your skin apart before coming back to cup his hands around your cheeks. Your face is so soft, so warm, everything he always thought it would be to caress and you seem to melt into his rough touch.

A charged tension fills the space around both of your bodies; it is so thick that it’s suffocating and you hold your breath waiting for what will cause it to break. The lieutenant must be overwhelmed with it too as he inhales sharp and shuddered. There is an electricity in his touch and it makes his hands shake slightly against your skin even as the rest of him stands still as stone.

He can say it, he has to. You need to know that you are wanted, desired, and he has to be the one to do it before someone else can come along just to break your heart again. He has put this off longer than he should have and he isn’t going to waste another second or make you shed another tear.

“You’re someone’s first choice,” he repeats. “Mine.”

You’re not aware of your body until you realize that your hand has cupped over top of one of his on your cheek. You need to know that this is real, that he is real, and you press his hand down firmer onto your face while you shut your eyes, just for a moment to test that you aren’t dreaming. As they flutter back open, he’s still standing before you with his hands lingering around you.

It’s suddenly a struggle to find your voice, but you push through. “I-I didn’t even think you noticed me; I thought I was always invisible to you, sir.”

The lieutenant shakes his head. “Never. Jus’ never seemed the right time to say it. But I can’t let ya stand ‘ere and think that no one knows what a fuckin’ catch you are.”

Is he still breathing heavily now or is it you? Maybe both? You can’t tell where you end and he begins anymore, yet it doesn’t seem enough to satisfy; you want to get closer to him and something in the tone of his voice makes you trust his words. You step all the way into him, reducing the distance between your bodies to nothing and the tension immediately escalates.

Lt. Riley has craved you from afar for so long now that he can hardly believe what is happening. Your advance leaves him reeling, his skin tingling, and now his tongue feels weighted in his mouth. He should say more, but he’s never been too good with words and it’s made worse because he’s lost in the ecstasy of your presence. Instead of talking, he leans his face in closer.

Only millimeters of space and a thin piece of fabric keep your mouths separated and yet for how near you are it still makes him burn in agony to be this far apart. The tip of his nose brushes against the tip of yours over the mask, foreheads nearly pressed together, mouths ghosting so near and yet so far; it’s torture, but he won’t let himself take anything that isn’t given to him freely, no matter how desperate your little gasps makes him.

His eyes flutter closed, absorbing every second of your presence while you still allow him to have it. “Please, luv,” he groans the words, the warmth from his breath making your lips tingle even filtered through the mask, “tell me I can fuckin’ kiss ya. Cause I really want ta do it now.”

You inhale sharply as an ache settles itself in your chest at his request, an ache for him to let you feel that desperation on your lips. Your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable and everything else falls away; it’s like you are the only two people left in the world.

You nod in his hands. “Kiss me,” you whisper as you barely have enough breath to get the words out.

There is not a moment more of hesitation as he has his consent; his mask is ripped up above his lips to rest over the bridge of his nose and in a flash your back is being braced against the wall behind you as the lieutenant pins you to it, the bulk of his chest crushing into you as he leans in and breaks the space between your mouths with enough passion that you could choke on it.

The lieutenant can taste the salt still lingering on your mouth, all that sadness you had just endured giving your lips a briny flavor, but he is determined to kiss it all away and erase the memory of that bastard from your skin if it’s the last thing he does. He bombards your mouth with his unrelenting yearning, open-mouthed kisses overtaking your lips until you can taste the need across your tongue

“Anyone with half a brain would kill for tha chance to call you theirs,” he gasps against your lips. “And I want ya more than anythin’, before another bastard can take ya away from me.”

Your entire body feels weightless like you are floating the longer he takes your mouth. To be embraced like this, being devoured as if he has been starved of your kiss, is overwhelming and suddenly you’re lightheaded as time passes uncounted. All the pain and sadness that just had you in a chokehold evaporated from your mind as if it was never there and it is replaced by the emotions shared between two sets of hungry lips.

“And stop calling me sir,” he says, “when it’s me and you, it’s Simon now.”

Kisses like fire pepper your lips, his entire mouth enveloping your own with noses pressed into cheeks so that neither of you can breathe and yet pulling away feels like torture. You know the type of man the lieutenant is, know that to be so vulnerable about what he wants is not something he has displayed much before, and that for him to be so open is important.

He doesn’t just want to say the words, he wants to prove them true.

Simon’s large hands release your face to wrap themselves around your hips, touching you in such a way as if he is trying to write promises on your body through your clothes with his fingertips. “Jus’ want tha chance ta show ya that someone can fuckin’ choose ya. Tell me ya fuckin’ want that too,” he implores in a desperate whisper.

His request is met without words at first, but your smile is against his mouth and the way you kiss him back harder, meeting his lips in feverish bursts as you tangle your fingers into the hair at the back of his head to push him tighter into you is answer enough.

“I do,” you whimper, only breaking from his lips long enough to spit the words out.

His voice is calm, yet firm, quiet, yet powerful as he murmurs the words into the small gap between your mouths. “Then you’re under my protection now, got it? I won’t let any manky bastard mess with ya again.”

Something about the way he says it makes you suspicious of where he was just minutes ago, though you don’t ask the question. Let that chaos rest for another time, right now you are going to let yourself enjoy this.

Heated lips connect again as if he is trying to make you swallow his vow. “No one’s gonna hurt ya, not while I’m ‘round.”

There is a pause as Simon breaks the kiss and pulls back, dark eyes lingering on the beauty of your flushed face and hazy eyes. More gentle than you could have thought possible from the intimidating lieutenant, his fingertips caress your cheek as his lips upturn into a smile. “Cause from now on, you’re gonna be my first choice.”

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 9 months ago

Note

How would the aot boys react if they heard a rumor that reader has a crush on them

i heard a rumor….

eren jaeger is so nosey when he hears the rumor going around. he’s intrigued by your crush on him and he wants to know every little detail, of course by everyone else and not you. he gathers everyone’s opinion and saves you for last. he doesn’t beat around the bush; he tells you he knows that you’re crushing hardcore on him. he’s playful and witty, trying to get you all flustered.

armin arlert, bless his heart, tries to be cool about it. and he does a fairly good job you think. he often finds ways to get you two alone but he never makes a bold move. he asks if he can help you do things, tries to find common interests, etc. you know he knows because you find him trying to spend too much time with you, not that you’re complaining. he just lets things take their course.

jean kirsteins plays the disinterested, too-cool-for-you character. he’s damn good at it too. his actions and short replies hurt your ego and your heart. so, you give him the same treatment back. this, he’s not a fan of. he demands that you tell him why you’re treating him like this and you respond that you’re just dishing out what he is. that makes him go ‘oh’ and it results in a very around the bush way of telling you he has some sort of feelings for you but he was trying to repress it.

connie springer grins from ear to ear for days end when he hears the news. he was already crushing on you big time and now that you like him back, he’s convinced your soulmate. shamelessly, connie asks (it’s more of a statement) that you go on a date. you cant believe he knows. you want to just disappear when he confronts you but he doesn’t understand why. “am i coming on too strong? hold on, i can get weak in the knees real quick.”

levi ackerman acts like he doesn’t know about your feelings for him. his behavior isn’t much different than when he didn’t know- his eye’s just tend to linger on you a bit longer. his gaze makes you feel…violated. it’s like he’s looking right through you or undressing you with his eyes. hard to tell. he continues driving you crazy in various subtle ways until you can’t take it anymore and wind up confessing at him in a ‘why are you doing this to me’ moment. he just laughs.

reiner braun's interest is piqued, that's for sure. he's not so smooth about it, always turning into a flustered mess when he's around you. you, now beginning to panic he knows your secret, turn into a shorter flustered mess. your awkwardness makes all your friends laugh and they just tease you more, which causes more stuttering and the cycle repeats. eren's the one who finally sets you up, not able to bare any more of reiner's incoherence.

bertholdt hoover makes the brave decision of telling you how he feels. he doesn't pick the greatest time. he tells you in front of all your friends and that leaves you feeling a little pressured. so, you get up and drag him away from everyone. the two of you share a raw confessional in peace and quiet. it leaves your heart full.

zeke jaeger texts you as soon as eren tells him. he doesn't wait for any more clarification. the text reads, heard you're basically in love with me. I'll pick you up later: a man of his word, he comes and picks you up. you try to him he's ridiculous but he knows you're his future wife.

erwin smith does his best to avoid you. a crush is meaningless to him.but fuck, the way you look at him makes his heart stop. he's beginning to think that there's something wrong with him- he can't breathe when you're around him. one night, he has too much wine to drink and accidentally lets it slip that he knows. he decides he doesn't care anymore and kisses you on the forehead, leaving you confused about the way he feels about you.

porco galliard's too fucking cocky. he starts spreading the rumor himself once he gets wind of it. he tells everyone he knows, bragging about it over and over. the rumor makes it's way back to you and you want to cry. so, that's what you do. you know everyone knows, so he must know. porco catches you crying and is upset with himself for spreading it. he didn't know you'd be so embarassed, considering he ‘obviously feels the same way’

please go read my jean fic 🤍

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pure-smut · 4 months ago

Text

addicted.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, groping on public transport (exhibitionism maybe??), a smidge dubcon, orgasm denial, missionary, mating press, size k*nk, Sukuna is a stalker and super possessive/toxic, unprotected s*x

word count: 2.6k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

a/n: thank you so much for all the love this series has gotten!! kinda feel like this maybe isn't the end?? idk i feel like sukuna's got more tricks up his sleeve so lmk if you'd like to see more~

It’s been a few days since you had that wet dream about Ryomen Sukuna and you still can’t get it out of your head.

Weird enough that it had come completely out of the blue – it’s not like you’d really thought about him since you slept together – but it was so vivid. The feel of his tongue on your throbbing clit, broad and deft as he made you cum on his tongue.

You shudder, growing wetter even as you remember it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times but despite his usual intense look, he hadn’t acted any different to before. You didn’t mind – despite being a great night, you knew Sukuna was a fuckboy through and through. You have no interest in spending more time than necessary with a guy who couldn’t give a shit about you.

So, you’d ignored him back.

Except for that wet dream.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the memory, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re at the train station, waiting with a thick crowd of commuters as you wait on your train home. You usually leave class a bit later than everyone else, staying behind to study, specifically so you could avoid the crush of people at rush hour. But today, your textbooks were getting delivered and the timeslot was less than convenient, forcing you to rush home with everyone else.

You try to make yourself small as the train arrives and you’re swept up with the crowd.

Everyone files on quietly, squishing themselves into the cramped space. You mumble a few apologies as you press into the commuters around you, finding a corner that you can face, hugging your bag to your chest. The train shudders as it starts up but you’re so crushed into the corner, you don’t even sway at it moves. You sigh heavily. It’s going to be a long journey home.

You start to zone out, wishing you’d thought to bring your earphones so you could at least listen to some music. When you feel a hand on your hip, you don’t even register it, assuming it’s someone in the crowd squeezing past. It’s only when you feel hot breath on the top of your head and the hand slides lower, touching your bare thigh, that you jolt.

You try to turn around but you’re pressed into the corner, not able to move. You heart hammers in your chest, your breath catching. Some random pervert is feeling you up!

What do I do?! You think to yourself, panicked.

And then you hear him.

“Relax, baby.” Sukuna’s voice is low so only you can hear, his mouth against the shell of your ear.

You freeze.

“S…Sukuna?!” you squeak.

“Shh,” he hushes you, his thumb tracing circles on your thigh. “Keep quiet for me, angel.”

You risk a quick glance behind you, but Sukuna’s large frame covers you completely, blocking you from view. You twist your neck to look up and see him grinning down at you.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” you say back, blinking. “What are you-?”

Before you can even ask, he’s answered you. Sukuna’s hand moves up your thigh and under your skirt, cupping your panty-clad pussy. You gasp and Sukuna tuts in your ear.

“Be quiet, remember?” he says firmly.

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, but give a small nod. Despite the absurdity of the situation, a weird thrill runs up your spine at how brazen he is. You’re in public. Anyone could see. The train rocks on the tracks and Sukuna takes the opportunity to slip his fingers under your panties.

You bite back a gasp.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purrs.

He starts to stroke small circles around your clit, already slippery with your arousal. Your body responds to him on instinct and you spread your thighs slightly, allowing him more access.

The train stutters to a halt. You remain rooted to the spot, unmoving, as people file off and on the train. Thankfully, it remains full to the brim, so no one notices Sukuna groping you in the corner. You only breathe when the train starts moving again.

“Tell me something,” Sukuna says lowly. “Who were you speaking to earlier?”

Your mind is foggy with lust, too focussed on his fingers playing with your pussy in public. You blink several times, trying to understand his question.

“Um…” You falter as he applies more pressure, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “W-who?”

Sukuna growls in your ear and he pulls his fingers away. You fight the urge to whine, your clit still needy.

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice is quiet enough for only you to hear but has a dangerous undercurrent. “That white-haired jackass.”

You furrow your brow, confused. You had bumped into one of your classmates earlier outside your work and had ended up chatting to him for maybe ten minutes. But how did Sukuna know about that? And why was he angry?

You’re jolted from your thoughts as Sukuna lightly slaps your pussy.

“Well?”

“T-that was just a c-classmate,” you stammer out.

“You seemed awfully cosy with him.”

“How would you know?” you shoot back, a nugget of defiance forming in your chest. “And why do you even care?”

“I care,” Sukuna whispers in your ear and it sounds more like a threat than reassurance. “I care a lot.”

Your breath catches in your chest as Sukuna’s fingers return to your puffy clit, stroking it again. You nearly groan but bite your lip to contain it.

“Does he get to do this to you?” Sukuna asks. “Does anyone but me get to touch you like this?”

“N-no. Of course not.” You’re trying to keep the waver out of your voice but the way he’s rubbing your sensitive bud is making your knees weak.

His deft fingers quickly bring you to the brink. You press your back against his hard stomach and chest, stifling your moans as Sukuna dips a finger between your folds to gather more of your slick. You tilt your head back, resting it against his chest as your breathing turns ragged. You’re nearly there. You’re so close.

And then Sukuna pulls his hand away, withdrawing out from under your skirt completely.

“What…” you puff out, frustration and surprise colouring your cheeks.

Before you can twist your head to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, Sukuna intertwines his fingers with yours. As the train stutters to the next stop, he pushes through the crowd like a battering ram, pulling you by your hand behind him.

“Where are we going?” you protest. “I don’t live at this stop.”

“I do.”

Sukuna drags you out of the station but once you’re free of the rush hour crowds, he slows his pace, letting you walk in step beside him. You notice he doesn’t drop your hand.

You open your mouth several times to ask what he’s doing but the answer is obvious. He wants to fuck. Why, is the bigger question. Why when he could have any girl he wants, at least for a night. So that's what you ask him.

“Why me?”

Sukuna brings you to his front door, an eyebrow cocked as he pulls his keys free.

“What kind of a question is that?” He rolls his eyes.

“Why do you want me?” you insist.

Sukuna sighs, slotting in his keys and opening the front door. He drags you in, slamming the door closed before pushing you against it.

“Because you’re mine,” he states plainly.

Mine.

The word echoes in your mind as Sukuna dips his head to kiss you roughly. His lips part yours, his tongue demanding entrance. You open yourself to him as he grabs you loosely by the throat.

“You’ve been making me wait,” Sukuna groans into your mouth. “You’ve been testing my patience.”

Before you can question him, he scoops his large hands under your ass and picks you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around him.

“You’re not working tomorrow,” he says, almost a question but not quite.

“How do you know that?”

“Yes or no?” he ignores you, carrying you through the hall and into his bedroom.

“N-no.”

“Good. We’re not leaving this house for two days.”

Sukuna doesn’t ask you. He tells you.

He throws you on the bed before lying on top of you, pressing his mouth against yours to swallow any protests. His hand tangles in your hair at the back of your head, cradling your skull against his palm. His lips are soft even as his kisses are rough, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Between his prolonged teasing on the train and his annoyingly good kisses, you feel your thighs growing slick with how turned on you are.

You snake a hand to the back of his neck, fingers gliding through his soft, pink hair. Sukuna grinds his crotch against yours, the friction making your clit throb. You whine with need.

“Let me cum,” you beg. “You got me so close before.”

“Say it again.”

“Let me cum, Sukuna.”

“Again.”

“Please! Please let me cum, Sukuna.”

He pulls back to grin at you.

“That’s all you had to say, angel.”

Sukuna reaches down to undo his jeans, pulling his cock free. You know he’s big, the memory of working it inside you still imprinted on your mind, but seeing it in person again makes your eyes widen.

“You were too tight last time, baby,” Sukuna coos, stroking himself. “Need to loosen you up first.”

Sukuna moves his hand from his cock to your clit, resuming his previous tight circles. Your back arches and your nails sink into the hard muscles of his shoulders. Sukuna uses his other hand to tug your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Still playing with your pussy, he latches his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling at it.

“Ah!” you whimper, the combined sensations overcoming you.

Sukuna feels you wriggling beneath him and pins you down at your hip, forcing you to stay in position. Your breathing gets short as you squeeze your eyes shut, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train.

You cry out Sukuna’s name as he makes you cum on his fingers, finally fulfilling the promise his touch made on the train. Sukuna talks you through it, his cock responding to the sweet noises you make because of him. With a satisfied smile, he pulls his hand back.

You collapse back onto the bed, dazed, as the head of Sukuna’s hard cock nudges at your entrance.

“Keep your legs spread for me, baby,” he commands. “There’s a good girl.”

Still coming down from the high of your orgasm, you’re pliant and obedient. You push your thighs apart, resting them on the cut of Sukuna’s hip muscles as he leans forward over you. Sukuna’s fat mushroom tip meets your hole and then slowly, so slowly, he pushes it inside you.

Your breath hitches, your brows scrunching up in the middle. You look down to see him splitting you in half, his cock stretching you so deliciously.

“Ah-!” you gasp. “Fuck, it’s so big…”

Sukuna doesn’t stop himself from grinning. He’s never been on top before, never thought anyone could take him like this. But he knows you can. And he’s willing to be patient for it.

Your pussy is slick and relaxed from your orgasm, stretching to accommodate Sukuna as he sinks himself another few inches inside you. He’s only halfway but the feel of your walls pulsing around him is setting his skin on fire. He grits his teeth and pulls back slightly, fucking you with a few shallow pumps to spread your juices along his cock.

You feel heavenly. He could cum just like this but he knows you can do more. He can wait.

Sukuna pulls your legs up, hooking your ankles over his shoulders so he can go deeper. He presses himself further, your welcoming pussy swallowing another few inches, your lips wrapping around him so tight.

You fist the bedsheets next to you, his cock rubbing against every nerve along your walls.

“S-Sukuna!” you cry out.

“You can take it, baby,” he soothes you, holding himself agonisingly still to let you get used to him. “You did before.”

You know he’s right – in fact, you made a point of taking his entire cock last time, just to spite him. And you don’t want him to stop, not really. You’ve never been with anyone who’s reached so deep inside you before. It feels strangely intimate, this secret thing that you only share with Sukuna.

Sukuna waits until you stop squirming before moving again. He’s so close, only an inch or two left. He thrusts in and out a few more times, drawing another whimper from your lips, before sinking in fully.

The front of his thighs meet the back of your ass, pressed together as he leans some of his weight down on you. Your lips fall open, a million curses waiting at the back of your throat, but all you can think is – you feel so full.

“Your pussy was made for me,” Sukuna groans, teeth gritted.

That’s exactly how you feel. He fits so snugly inside you, so tight and stretched, the thick ridges of his cock dragging so perfectly along your plush walls. Sukuna starts to thrust, keeping himself deep, never wanting to leave the warmth of you for long, and every stroke sends you hurtling towards another orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Sukuna’s eyes are glued on where your bodies meet, at where his girth slides in and out of you, coated in your juices.

He’s addicted to the way you sound, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the desperate moans from your lips. He’s obsessed with the feel of you around him, swallowing him whole. He’s infatuated with how you look, folded beneath him as he fucks you, your face contorted in the pleasure he’s giving you. Beautiful. Perfect.

He is never letting you go.

Sukuna picks up his pace, hips rolling. Your bodies are both coated in a thin sheen of sweat, the sounds of slapping flesh filling the room.

“You’re mine,” Sukuna growls. “Say it back to me.”

You’re delirious, drunk off the feel of his cock pistoning in and out of you. When you look up at him, your eyes are half-lidded and glazed.

“I’m yours,” you breathe.

“You going to ignore me again?”

Sukuna punctuated each syllable with another brutal snap of his hips. You cry out, so close to cumming even as your pussy aches.

“No!” you sob. “Never.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m yours, Sukuna. I belong to you!”

“Good fucking girl.”

Sukuna leans down further to kiss you roughly, his tongue lapping at yours without breaking pace. His cock rubs against just the right spot and you dive headfirst into another orgasm.

Sukuna feels you cream on his cock, your pussy like a vice grip around him. It’s enough to bring him to his own finish. He tips his head back, a flurry of curses falling from his lips as you feel him spill thick ropes of cum inside you.

Your thighs fall to either side of him as Sukuna half-collapses on top of you, chest heaving. You hold him to you, pressing soft kisses against his neck.

“Sukuna…” you say quietly, unsure.

He rolls over to the side of you, pulling you with him so you’re lying tucked into the side of him, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“I meant it,” Sukuna says, seeming to understand you even without you asking. “You’re mine.”

He looks down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“And I’m yours. Always.”

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shalomniscient · 4 months ago

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you’re seven years old and barefoot on the beach of yaoguang shoal with sand between your toes and salt-brushed wind in your hair when ningguang makes her first and only promise to you.

“when we grow up, i’ll marry you.”

the words are big, heavy on her child’s tongue but she speaks them with conviction nonetheless. her hands are laced with yours, your small fingers slotting perfectly with one another. the sunset makes her eyes glow like how you imagine the amber does at jueyun karst. you’re too young, too childish to really understand the weight of her vow—but you nod with a smile, squeezing her hands tighter.

“i’ll wait for you,” you say, hoping she can hear the sincerity in your voice. it’s a foolish hope, because you know that ningguang knows you better than you even know yourself. she returns your smile with one of her own, her hand never leaving yours as you walk back to your village, the sunset at your backs. the light paints ningguang in gold, and you can’t help but think at seven years old that this is how things should be—hand in hand with the girl you know you love before you even knew the meaning of the word, barefoot together in the sand.

you’re seven years old when you learn how things should be, but you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are.

ningguang leaves for the city. she tells you before she goes, of course, holds you close as you weep selfishly into her shoulder. her hands are gentle as she sifts them through your hair, along your scalp and down the nape of your neck before wrapping around your slim, hunger-carved shoulders. i have to go, she’d said, or else how will i afford our wedding? and you’d wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter at all what kind of wedding you had, as long as she stayed with you—that all the riches in the world are worthless without her. but for as much as she knows you, you know her, and you know that ningguang is not to be deterred once she sets her mind on something, so you send her off with a delicately packed mora meat and a prayer in your heart that she’ll come back soon.

you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are, and you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be.

it’s been six years since ningguang left. even in the backwater village you call home, tales of ningguang’s exploits reach your ears. how she runs circles around liyue’s businessmen and businesswomen, how she effortlessly finds her place amidst liyue’s social elite, how she’s rising, rising, rising like an unstoppable eclipsing star. she keeps writing to you, always keeping you updated on her progress, and you always write back, filling your letters with the mundanity of your day-to-day life—about the way the glaze lillies have been blooming, or about the way everyone around you says you’d make a fine wife.

my parents are getting restless, you confess in one letter. i’m getting older, and they think i should get married soon.

the reply that returns the next week is simple, but succint. i haven’t forgotten. wait for me, please. and you know she hasn’t, which is why it kills you when your new husband forbids you from ever writing to her again. you weep yourself to sleep on your side of the bed for the next week following your wedding night. the distress of wondering—if ningguang is worried, if she’s upset, or worse, if she’s hurt by you—drives you near insane to the point you worry yourself sick. your husband only tells you to stop holding on to naive childhood promises and perform your duties as a wife. it is the only thing you are good for, now.

you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be, but you’re twenty-nine when you learn that things can change.

in the years you have been married, your husband has grown—not in character, but in wealth. he is rich enough, now, to take you and himself from your village and to the big city to further his business. a small spark flickers to life in your chest that you might see her again, but it fizzles out when your husband makes it clear that you are just to stay at home. you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything other than the house, he’d said. i’ll give you everything you need. and you know better than to argue with him, so you resign yourself to staying at home, spending your days gazing up at that palace in the sky and wondering if its lady even remembers you—or if she, like you, has decided to let go of naive childhood promises. after all, she has the world now, can see it from the edges of her floating sanctuary. what need has she of the memory of being barefoot in the sand at seven years old?

(selfishly, you pray she hasn’t forgotten, even if she has no need for remembrance. you pray she chooses to remember.)

change comes when a woman in a white fur jacket and the prettiest emerald eyes you’ve ever seen breaks into your house. it’s certainly a very unorthodox meeting, and you come dangerously close to throwing the knife you were using to finely dice some cabbage at her. the woman only laughs, nimbly prying it from your hands and setting it on the counter. before you can even ask her what in rex lapis’s name she’s doing in your house, she says the words that make your blood run cold.

the tianquan wants to see you.

ningguang wants to see you.

the woman promptly leaves after delivering her message and additionally telling you not to breath a word of it to your husband, leaving you standing in your kitchen reeling from the shock. the mora meat you were working on putting together is forgotten as you swallow your nerves and take the chance you’ve waited nine years for. you’re nearly sick with it by the time you’ve ascended to the jade chamber in all of its opulence, feeling like you stick out like a sore thumb.

but the moment you see ningguang again, everything else fades to white noise. archons, she’s as beautiful as the day you last saw her. she was lovely dressed in commoner’s clothes, and she is just as lovely dressed in finery no doubt worth more than a year’s worth of your rent. she will never be anything other than lovely in your eyes.

“it’s been a while,” she says softly, the first to break the silence. you nearly cry at finally hearing her voice again. instead, you stifle it with a wet chuckle.

“only took fourteen years.”

ningguang manages a small laugh, lips curving upward in a smile you know—you remember—is reserved only for you. she offers you a seat by her desk, and two secretaries file in to place a tea set down by both of you, before disappearing as quickly as they came. and then ningguang is telling you about the real reason she asked to see you; your husband, as you are quite unsurprised, is involved with some sort of fraud, and the prosecution—the tianquan’s office—needs a witness. namely, you. after all, who better than the wife of the man himself? you try not to let your disappointment show, though, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking her if she remembers—or worse, if she missed you. your conversation with her is pure business, and when you descend from the chamber later, it’s only with the taste of sweet tea on your tongue and half your heart; the other half you seem to have left with her, up in the clouds.

your husband, to his displeasure and rage, finds himself in millelith custody the very next day. and the very next week, you, to your pleasure and joy, find yourself lacking a husband. the millelith who take him away politely point you to an office down the street ran by a pink-haired half-adeptus, who takes care of your divorce affairs with a cheery smile in less than four days. you’re both scared and impressed—is this just how people move in the big city��? you don’t have time to dwell on the question, because unfortunately, without your husband you are also without your income, and without your income you are also without your house. which would be a very big problem; were it not for the fact that ningguang once again invites you to the jade chamber, but this time, to stay with her. you nearly decline because of the sheer insanity of the request, but the part of your heart there with her wins out. you relent, and now, you find yourself playing house with the tianquan of the liyue qixing.

it’s almost frightening, how quickly you fall back into old habits. ningguang, you find, hasn’t changed much. she is still whip-smart, still as cunning as she is devious, but she is still just as kind as she was before. something in you aches viscerally when you see the way she speaks with the children, offering them candies and goodies as she goes. (things neither of you had the luxury in indulging as children.) you smile and tell her, you haven’t changed at all. she only looks at you and returns it with, have you? the answer eluded you at the time, but thinking about it more, you would say that yes, i have. but the parts that loved you never did.

(you don’t say this out loud, of course. it’s too early, and the chasm of years between you both yawns achingly large. but by the glint of her eyes, you think she knows. and if she didn’t, the time and care she spent relearning you would have told her as well.)

since you’re not sure how long ningguang will let you stay, you decide to make the most of it. you’re almost thankful for the nine dull years you spent with your former husband—since at the very least, it taught you how to be a half decent wife. it’s all you’re good for now, after all. ningguang’s meals are cooked by you, and you’re the one who brings her tea in the afternoons and evenings. you talk with her over your cups like nothing ever happened, and you walk with her round the perimeter of the jade chamber as the sun sets, her hand close enough to hold. rumors dance in the wind like dandelions about the tianquan’s new companion; some call you an old friend, others, a lover. the answer is somehow both, yet neither. she is everything to you, and more.

(and you are everything to her and more. the infinte she has been searching for her whole life is right there in your eyes. it always has been.)

you’re twenty nine years old when you realise things can change, and you’re thirty years old when you remember how things should be.

ningguang takes a rare day off, and invites you on a little excursion to yaoguang shoal. it’s been a year since you started living with her. a year since you’ve been freed from a man you never loved, and a year since you’ve come to realise that it’s because you’re still in love with ningguang—and that perhaps, you never stopped. it’s not as difficult as an epiphany to come to terms with, but it does make your chest ache every time you look at her. especially now, in this place, where the waves carry salt-brushed wind and memories of a distant time. the sun hangs low in the sky, and ningguang is kicking off her heels, barefoot in the sand. all of a sudden you’re seven years old again, watching her watch the waves and wondering if her eyes glow the same like the amber at jueyun karst. you slip your own footwear off too, standing by her side in the sand, the water lapping at your ankles. she speaks first.

“i still remember,” she murmurs, and your heart catches in your throat. when she looks at you, it’s with all the bare innocence she looked at you with twenty-three years ago. “do you?”

“of course,” you answer, without a beat of hesitation. “how could i forget?” how could i forget you?

ningguang smiles. “then you remember what i promised you here?”

“yes,” you breathe. “i remember.”

the woman before you exhales, the sound nearly drowned out by the sigh of the waves as they crash onto the shore. her geo vision glimmers, and a crystalline box manifests in her hands—her hands that tremble as they open it, revealing a simple golden band inside. “will you forgive me for taking so long?” she whispers, and you clasp your hands over her own, steadying them. you rest your forehead against hers, caught halfway between a sob and a laugh.

“i would have waited for you forever, ningguang.”

she exhales again. catches her breath. “then, will you let me fulfill my promise and marry me?”

you answer her with the only possible answer, catching her lips in a kiss twenty-three years in the making.

yes.

#sev.scribbles #ningguang #ningguang x reader #haha what is pacing #dont know her #anyway first ning piece go brr #also yea she might have pulled some strings to get ur mans into a jail cell #but he was a dick anyway so isallgood #anyway. cranked this out in like 3 hrs and it is now 3am so if its bad. well you know why

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months ago

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Based off of something I saw on TikTok recently

Hotd characters that I think would be absolutely ecstatic in calling you his spouse(not in any particular order) :

Benjicot Blackwood:

This man is going to think it’s all a dream that you married him but once he finds comfort that it’s not and that you are in fact married, he’ll smile the biggest smile and just acts proud that you chose him out of every possible suitor.

He ain’t looking at anyone else when he’s got you babe, Willem Blackwood and Alysanne brought him up better than that and he knew better himself then to do such a thing.

He’s a simp for you and everyone in the Riverlands knows this, Oscar and Kermit tease him relentlessly for this but Benjicot doesn’t fucking care, he’ll happily let his mind wander to you and talk about you at any given moment if he were to see anything that made him think about you to anyone who could hear him.

Jacaerys Velaryon;

Devote husband who’ll gladly wait on you hand and foot without question.

He loved calling you his spouse, it fills him with joy and happiness in letting everyone know that you are bound to one another for eternity.

Anyone insults you? He’s quick to say ‘have care for what you say in front of my spouse.’ With his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, a silent threat that spoke a million words. He will not allow anyone to mess with you in any regard, as an insult on you might as well be an insult on him too and Jace won’t have that. You deserve respect and by the gods he’ll give you it tenfold.

Aeron Bracken;

He’s gonna be all chivalrous about it and such but you know he’s going to rub in the fact that he got you before a Blackwood could.

He loves that he had something over them now and it was the fact that you married him and he’s on cloud nine the entire time, he belonged to you and he’ll kneel before you often just so he could look up at you with those pretty eyes of his.

He may look like an angel in human form but you were akin to a deity he’d gladly lay his life down for if it meant getting to be the one laying in your arms each and every night. His sword was yours and he’ll cut down anyone you held a dislike towards for a while, just say the word and Aeron will seek them out for you, his beloved spouse.

Gwayne Hightower

Can and will use any opportunity to call you his spouse at any given moment of any day to the point it’s borderline annoying. Not for you and him though, for everyone else that is.

Gwayne will call you his spouse for all of those in court to hear and he’ll be smug about it too because why the fuck would he not! He’s married to the most wonderful person in all the realms; you! You can’t fault him for wanting to remind everyone that he was well and truly taken and happily so.

He says it in front of Criston Cole the most for the reactions that he gets, Criston wore his emotions clear as day on his face that it was obvious to know how he was feeling, so Gwayne abuses this fact to the high heavens.

He loves showing you off because he knows he had gotten extremely lucky in life when you came along.

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querenciasturniolo · 10 months ago

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chris or matt x fem!reader please !!! i legitimately cannot choose between them for my life so you can choose :) maybe reader’s also like an influencer and they have this secret sort of relationship for a while and its all super fluffy, but fans are already starting to speculate that they’re together and stuff, and then at the end they finally go public with a hard launch and/or live and everyone in the comments ( or chat if it’s a live ) is going FERAL

p.s. also i’ve loved your works for so long you DO NOT UNDERSTAND and i’ve finally gathered up the courage to send in a message even tho it’s sent in with a request !

hard launch ⮕ m.s.

word count: 911

warnings: swearing

summary: request

a/n: STOP YOU’RE SO SWEET 😭 please don’t be scared of me, i promise i don’t bite HAHAHA, ily are you kidding me 🫶🏻😭 also this was so fucking cute, i’m obsessed fr

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Watching Matt stream always had your heart stuttering in your chest.

The theme for Hogwarts Legacy was playing as he was adjusting his camera, your eyes watching him closely and trying to fight the smile stretching across your face. You were sure the viewers could see you staring, considering you were sitting in the chair directly next to him, on camera. His eyes dropped from the screen as he grabbed his controller.

“Alright guys, so, we’re playing Hogwarts Legacy tonight, but I have a special guest with me, as you all can see.” He turned his head and met your eyes, his own smile growing and his cheeks tingeing pink as he caught you already staring. Introduce yourself, he mouthed. You turned to face the camera, grinning wider than before as your eyes scanned over the chat.

“Hey guys, I’m the guest, obviously. My name is Y/n.” You said.

did anyone else see the way she was staring at matt ? they’re in love, confirmed

she’s so real, i’d be staring too

i can’t even handle this, she’s so cute

“Basically, Y/n’s going to play while I tell her what to do. She’s never held a controller in her life.” Matt teased, his eyes flickering between the screen and the chat as you pressed the button to start the game.

“Wait, I have to create a whole character?” You asked, glancing over at Matt as he placed the headset over your ears. He chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, you have to create a whole character, is that not what you were expecting when you begged me to play this game?” He teased. You rolled your eyes and adjusted the headset, making sure the ear that was on his side was exposed so you could hear him.

“This is ridiculous, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me I had to create an entire chara—oh my God I can have pink hair, I take it back.” You rambled, scrambling through the hair colors. Matt’s laugh next to you had you grinning as your eyes flickered between the screen and the chat.

this banter is only proving my point that they’re in love

i’m so glad she’s streaming with him this is so funny

has anyone else noticed that matt hasn’t looked at the screen once

You glanced over at Matt, meeting his eyes immediately. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as you shook your head and faced the screen again. You created your character, groaning when you realized you had to go through a thousand cut scenes, even though you were thrilled to be playing this game.

“I never understood why you can’t see those weird horse things until that dude gets eaten by the dragon.” Matt said, catching your attention enough for you to glance at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. You sighed through your nose and shook your head.

“I forgot, you’re a fake fan.” You said, interrupting him before he could fire back. “They’re thestrals, you can only see them if you’ve witnessed death, but they’re always there.” You explained, Matt furrowing his eyebrows as you faced the screen again.

y/n being a harry potter fan was not on my docket, but i’m not complaining

her humbling matt has got to be the funniest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life

i love this

The entire time you were going through the beginning quests, you and Matt had bickered back and forth, your smile wide with each comeback you shot at him. It wasn’t until a knock on Matt’s door that the two of you stopped talking. You paused the game, but Matt scoffed and unpaused it.

“You keep playing.” He demanded playfully, your own scoff leaving your lips as you shook your head and continued. Chris peeked his head into the door.

“Food’s here, just thought you guys should know.” He said, Matt nodding his head. Chris left the room, and Matt turned to you.

“I’ll go get it.” He said, standing from the chair as you turned to face him. Before you could process it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours firmly and turned to leave the room. You smiled and shook your head before facing the screen and realizing what just happened.

oh mY GOD I FUCKING KNEW IT

DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT ??????

WHAT IS GOING ON MATT JUST KISSED HER ON FUCKING STREAM

You ignored the chat, trying to play it off and completely move past what happened, thinking that Matt did it on instinct. Chats were flying in at such a rapid pace that it felt as though everything on the screen was lagging. It was completely screwing up how you were playing, not only your racing heart and shaking hands on the controller.

You completely short circuited, having no idea what to do as Matt walked back into his room. He was laughing at something Chris had said as he sat down next to you and glanced over at the chat.

“Oh.”

You looked over at him and raised your eyebrows, your skin on fire as you watched his eyes scan over the rapid chats flying in at once.

“Yeah.” You said, Matt finally meeting your eyes with pink cheeks. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your nose before he sat back and grinned widely.

“I guess that was one hell of a hard launch, huh?”

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @champangekisses , @floofparker , @lovelysturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets #querenciasturniolo

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velocesainz · 9 months ago

Note

Hii!

Could you possibly do a Percy Jackson smut with Percy fucking the brat out of reader, his rival? Rough sex with degrading and praise pls and ty 🫶🏼🫶🏼

A/n:This was quite an interesting request for me to write, thank you for the idea! All character have been aged up (19-20)

More than rivalry

Percy jackson masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: Percy gets jealous seeing you (his rival) with another boy and decides to fuck you to make sure you remember that you are his but you end up being too cocky for his liking

Warnings: smut, degradation

Pairing: Percy x daughter of Zeus! Reader

Reader pov:

I was practising my archery skills with some Apollo kids and we were actually having a lot of fun

Over the time I had spent Robert over the past few days perfecting my archery we both really grew close together

He was one of the very few people at camp who were actually friends with me for me and not because I was Zeus’s daughter.

While we were training I clumsily fell over a rock and was about to go crash into the ground but Robert caught me in time.

We stayed in the position for a little bit not knowing what to do.

We looked at each other with soft and gentle eyes, like how friends would rather than people who like each other though it seemed otherwise to most.

It was a sweet moment we both were trying to savour when a bellowing voice split us apart

“Oi thunder witch! What are you doing, let the poor guy out of his misery and do some practising on your own yea?” Yelled the voice that I really didn’t want to hear right now

Percy motherfucking Jackson

“Ocean ass how about you go bother someone else. He’s here with me at his own will for your kind information. Care more about your friends yea?” I retorted

I wanted to leave the arena as fast as possible so I bid Robert goodbye and left for my cabin

Percy pov:

Crisis averted.

I didn’t let Robert and y/n have their moment.

Why the fuck out of all the girls here does Robert have to go for y/n?

He has like a hundred girls dying for him.

Doesn’t he know she’s mine?

I know we seem like enemies but I wish to fuck like every second of the day at this point

She’s just so beautiful and that attitude damn.

I had a plan to get y/n away from every other guy, not just Robert.

Reader pov:

I was sitting in my cabin reading a book when I heard a knock on my door

That’s odd, I thought

Nobody was usually free at this hour in the evening

Everyone was too busy scheming for capture the flag except me of course

I wasn’t allowed to participate along with Percy since we were a tad bit overpowered

I walked over and opened the door and before I could figure out who it was they shoved me against the wall and started kissing me

I pushed the figure away and tried to run but they caught me

“Don’t try to run bitch. You need to be taught a lesson. Now be a good little slut and listen to what I say or the consequences will be severe for you” the figure whispered in my ear.

Then I realised who it was

Percy.

I was feeling cocky today so I decided to tease him a little

“You sure you can be intimidating and dominating seaweed brain? I don’t think you can even satisfy me forget punishing me”I replied with a smirk gracing my features

“Oh you asked for this whore. By the time I’m done with you you will be so dumb for my cock that you won’t even remember your name. Just you wait “ he said in a Husky voice which turned me on more than I would like to admit

He started removing my clothes as fast as he could and I couldn’t help but sneak in a cheeky comment

“Desperate are we?” Boy oh boy was this a bad decision

“I’m going to fuck that cocky attitude right out of you. You really just can’t keep your mouth shut can you whore?” Percy said and threw me in my bed

Undressing himself he got on the bed and made his way towards me like a predator approaching its prey

He moved my panties to the side and roughly shoved his cock inside me without any warning

“A-ah p-p-Percy that hurts sto-“ I was cut off by a slap I received

“Shut the fuck up slut. You were the one who was acting all cocky just a few minutes ago. Bitches like you don’t deserve to be cared for” Percy panted as he continued thrusting in and out

His pace was ungodly. He kept thrusting in and out of me letting my pussy drink up his cock

I felt like I was losing my mind as he hit my g-spot repeatedly completely abusing it

“O-oh fuck your pussy is tight. G-gods I’m going to come. Ah yea just like that” He whispered huskily

“I am going to cum too Percy” I told him

“No no. You don’t get to cum you little slut. You’ve been a really back whore for me. You don’t get to cum today, deal with it yourself” Percy said as he came in me

He got dressed quickly and left leaving me a panting and unsatisfied mess

Goddamit jackson.

A/n: let me know if you guys liked this fic or if you have any feedback! Requests are still on hold unfortunately but they’ll be opened soon. Kissies ✨

#percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson smut #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started. Joel clears his throat.

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult."

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips.

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person.

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it.

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs.

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!"

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees.

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?"

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree.

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover.

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire.

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize. You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks.

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off.

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway.

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark.

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window.

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop.

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.”

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary.

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half.

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating.

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head.

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?”

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave.

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.”

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you.

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest.

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space.

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves.

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin.

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says.

“From what?”

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him.

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap.

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel.

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask.

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says.

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room.

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back.

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands.

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel.

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully.

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm.

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael.

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night.

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships.

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down.

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips.

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish.

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses.

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer.

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bomber-grl · 18 days ago

Text

What being their crush is like

Pairing(s): Characters x Gn!Ninja!Reader (teammate)

Character(s): Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha

Naruto Uzumaki

An absolute fool for you

The only ways you could’ve caught this morons affections is by either being attractive or being kind to him back when you both first started out at the academy

Either way he’s absolutely smitten and so when he hears your name called out after his in class- he’s ecstatic that you’ll be on the same team

If you have a crush on someone else he’d be pretty bummed out but it won’t deter him

(He was especially motivated by sasuke and Sakura- it was just to get him away from them)

He’ll try to buy you ramen, flowers, honestly just anything to show you that he’s the most suitable suitor

Which couldn’t be further from the the truth (in the eyes of everyone else)

He’d be so open about liking you

Well, when he’s not around you

He’ll always talk about you and how wonderful you are- it’s so painfully obvious to any outsider looking in

And when someone brings up his more than obvious crush on you he’d flush and act as if they had gone mental

Like what

Also bonus points to you if you constantly back him up when he’s being teased and support his dream to be hokage

Literally +1000 points

Well a certain period of time passes and throughout said period he’s constantly flirting with you

How? Well he’s always complimenting your fighting/ jutsu and trying to ask you out on a date

If you are even slightly hesitant to respond

Like by a milisecond- then he’d rub the back of his head and laugh it off

Going on about how he was just joking and I don’t know what

Then one day you end up accepting

Which is funny because of the fact that he left a very traditional love note hidden somewhere he knew you’d fine

[insert you going home and finding it]

Literally not surprising to anyone and most people would assume that Naruto would confess boldly

But I disagree- he’d be pretty shy and uncertain despite his tendency to be reckless

If you accept or not will be up to you but the next time you see him he’s all awkward and stuff but still manages to try and play it off

It’s up to you to break the ice

Sakura Haruno

Again, Sakura likely started liking you because of your attractiveness

It was just a surface level crush until she saw that you had an actual good character

She’s so beyond happy that you’ll be on the same team, I’m not even exaggerating

You’re all in the same class and so as classmates you’re all bound to have crushes on the same people

That’s to say- a good amount of people also had a crush on you and the moment your name was announced alongside hers-

She just mentally imagined flipping them all and shoving it in their faces

Miss girl is honestly so sweet, she’s always trying to spend time with you and if you have any trouble with anything

E.g. ninjutsu, fighting, etc. she’ll always be there to help

Maybe a little too willing at times

Now, we all know that Ino and Sakura have had this rivalry and often banter

Well, all of a sudden (if Ino isn’t fighting over you) she’s probably making fun of you and being very loud about her opinion on you

It’s either that she thinks you and Sakura are a perfect match (negative) or that you’re terrible and not the best option (also negative)

Either way you’re catching strays

Sakura obviously gets riled up over this and tries to defend you no matter where or when

Which leads to you being there for Sakuras Chunin exams and experiencing the whole match

It’s an event that leads to character growth- but when she goes back she doesn’t expect you to be there waiting for her

She’s honestly flattered you’d wait for her and is mentally smug about it

When she flirts with you it’s honestly super obvious too

I can’t even deny that

Like at times she’d defend you and act as though you’re always right and idk what else (which is her odd way of flirting because she sort of stares)

And then sometimes she just opens up about private stuff around you during the quiet moments

Plus she also gifts you little trinkets- like flowers or something casual and small

Either way- when she confesses it’s probably spontaneous asf

Like you’re walking around at night and she gets this urge to just spill her guts

And she does

She’s basically like why the hell not be like Naruto

She’s super flushed and awaits your response right then and there

If you like her back and know it- that’s that

But if you tell her you need to time to figure it out then she’ll accept

Just know she’s lying awake at night wondering regretting it

Sasuke Uchiha

He acts super neutral towards you

Which wouldn’t be an obvious pointer that you’re his crush towards the average person but cmon

He’s sasuke

So ofc it’s obvious he has a crush on you

Honestly the only way I’d see him having a crush on you would be if you were close to him pre massacre and have been by his side since forever

(Unless you’re willing to wait the long game *cough*cough* slow burn)

He’d be pretty dependent on you while also being super independent

It’s honestly confusing sometimes

When it comes to the whole you being apart of his team, he doesn’t feel a particular way about it

(Or so he tells himself)

He’d try so hard to be nonchalant around you

Like not even joking

But if someone insults you or does something slightly disrespectful- he’s giving them the death glare

And then excuses it with just being annoyed by (more often than not) Naruto

Since he usually pokes fun at ppl and stuff

(If you didn’t know him before the academy and even if you did) He’d probably admire your skills and how smart you are

Like he’d watch you from afar and is honestly jealous and simultaneously sees you as a rival

Again, super confusing.

The most affection you’d get from him at this stage is his (once in a lifetime) compliment about your fighting or something

Then he’d walk away

You’re left standing there super confused while he walks away with a light blush dusting his cheeks

He ain’t fooling nobody

He obviously feels super weird about having a crush on you because of his whole mission on finding his brother and -

Yea.

So even though he does like you more than he’d want to admit- he would never confess

Not likely

Which is what you thought

Until you find out that Sasuke left the village and there’s no point in trying to go after him or anything at all really

It’s a betrayal to you and everyone else

It’s dark by the time you get home and enter your room

You pick up this thing Sasuke had given you- his excuse? It wasn’t worth his time and so he had given it to you

You didn’t care much for his excuse and just kept it on your dresser

Upon closer inspection you noticed a paper sticking out and obviously took it out

It was a letter- one could argue it was sasuke confessing

He went on about how he liked was ok being around you and the paper note wasn’t all that long

Just a few lines (if any)

There was a rip towards the bottom and you were left wondering what it would’ve said

Spoiler - it was Sasukes actual confession that he cowardly ripped off and threw into a body of water, hoping you’d never find it

A/n: got a tad carried away

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 15 days ago

Text

Death Wish 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The doorbell buzzes. You loathe that noise. You stay as you are, unbothered by the visitor. You already hear Kitty asking Adrienne who it could be.

You continue to shuffle through the contents of the cigar box. You’re neither surprised or disgusted by the love letters. You know your mother’s writing and you know it isn’t here. You always assumed your father was rotten to the core. No, you were certain of it. The proof only makes you feel worse for your mother.

The door opens. There’s voices. Soft tones. Kitty’s, Adrienne’s and... his.

Then, footfalls that ascend the stairs. Too heavy to be your sisters’. You close the box and toss it in the black bag. There is not box to keep. All your father’s stuff needs to go. You have no use for it.

“You know I’m here,” Barnes says as he appears in the doorway.

“I do,” you take the old baseball your father made you catch as a girl. He was always disappointed he never had a son. It makes you want to smile knowing he never got the thing he wanted the most.

“You’ve had your time to mourn,” he says, and nothing else. His meaning is clear.

You drop the ball and get off the floor. You cross to him with your head down. He’s stoic and still. You reach for his hand. That makes him flinch. As if he’s surprised. He lets you lift it and you kiss the ring on his pinky.

You let him go and look him in the face, “he’s gone. It’s over. Let’s move on.”

His brow arches and his eyes narrow. “You understand what happens now?”

“You take care of my sisters. That’s all that matters to me.”

“All about family,” he remarks. “Well, real family.”

You’re silent. You don’t know what he wants you to say. Your heart is in your throat, can’t he see it beating there, choking you.

“I showed you my loyalty. I did that and I will never tell a soul.”

“Oh, I know, doll,” he smirks and shifts his weight. It’s your turn to wince as he brushes his knuckles along your cheek. “I don’t just want that loyalty for one night.”

You blink and fight not to let your fear show. It’s all so uncertain yet deep down you know exactly what he means. It just seems all too much.

“Sit down,” he drops his hand and turns. He shuts the door.

You avoid your father’s bed and instead, sit at the vanity where your mother would perch and apply her night cream. He paces and puts his hands in his pockets. He exhales and measures the air.

“It’s sorted. Everyone knows what happened. Vengeance is taken, the tables are balanced,” he says. “So we move forward. Your sisters are protected. They will have roofs over their head. You will too.”

You stare at him, waiting for the other shoe.

“Doll,” he tilts his head, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just say it,” you sniff.

“Say what?”

“Tell me what it costs,” you sneer.

He snickers, “that’s what I admire about you. You don’t beat around the bush. You come to my office, tell me to off daddy. You won’t even let me charm ya, dammit. You just wanna get down to business.”

“Please,” you beg. “I... I can’t take any more.”

His expression softens and he approaches you delicately, like an animal he doesn’t want to scare off, “we’re gonna have a big wedding, doll. You’re gonna wear the most expensive thing you can find, and we’re gonna drive off into the sunset together.”

You gulp and search his face. It sounds ridiculous. You don’t know this man, he doesn’t know you. Yet, he’s the only man who knows what you did. Who know that you could do something like that.

“Ah, come on, I’m a real man,” he unbuttons his jacket and reaches inside. “I’m more than words.” He takes out a hexagonal velvet box. “So, let me know if it fits.”

You hesitate but accept the box. You open it with some effort, the hinges are tight. You snap the lid up and stare at the ring within. It has a large teardrop diamond at the center and four decent sized ovals to each side, with little round diamonds worked in between. The gold gleams with the elaborate style of the thick band.

You slide it out and turn it in your fingers. It has to be worth more than all the stuff your daddy pawned off. More than even this house. You roll it over again and line up your finger with the band. You push into it and it fits snugly below your knuckle, covering half your finger.

“Too big,” you say.

“Loose?” He wonders as he leans a hand on the vanity table.

“No, it’s... clunky,” you wiggle your hand.

“Never thought I’d hear a woman complain a rock was too big,” he says. “Doll, I expect you to show off. You’re mine, I’m yours. That’s something to brag about.”

“Flashy. Distracting,” you comment.

“Any man stupid enough to try to steal that off ya, he won’t be thinking much longer,” he insists and grabs your hand. “Come here.”

He tugs you until your standing. He admires the ring on your finger and his cheeks dimple as he grins. He puts your hand on his shoulder and wraps his other arm around you. Sweat beads across your scalp and down your back. He’s so close you can smell his mellow cologne.

“Always good to have more to love, isn’t it?” his fingers curl into the cushion of your hip as he crushes you against him. He brings his palm up to cradle your face as his eyes drift down to your lips. He purrs and rocks you.

You shudder as your breath catches in your chest. The idea never fully bloomed in your head. You never dared to imagine this. Yet here it and it’s more startling than anything you could ever fathom.

He turns his hand to frame your chin and pulls you even closer. He leans in and presses his mouth to yours. His beard tickles you as his lips caress yours and his tongue pokes out coyly. You close your eyes as you open up to let him in.

Your heart thrums behind your ears as you seal your deal with that kiss. You didn’t barter for your freedom, just another master.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #death wish #au #mob au #mcu #marvel #avengers #winter soldier #captain america

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naddiesflower · 2 years ago

Text

Calling him by his name and not by a term of endearment

another one in the drafts that needed to see the light of day

Characters: Todoroki Shoto and Bakugo Katsuki

Shoto

You truly didn't mean to do it

You honestly just straight up forgot one day

You would always greet each other outside of class before school started

Like clockwork, you would give each other a small hug and you would always say “hi baby” or something similar, but you would always call him baby…..except for today

“Morning Shoto,” you pull away from the hug, and he has a frown on his face that looks different from the one he usually has

“You okay?”

He’s quick to shake it off, “Yeah, come on, we’re going to be late for class.”

You guys were actually early, but you just brush it off as him wanting to be punctual

Shoto really wants to question you

But he doesn’t

Not outwardly at least

He’s thinking, “are they mad at me?”, “Did I do something to make them mad at me??”

He would do everything possible EXCEPT ask you what was wrong

The both of you walk inside the class and Shoto goes to your seat before you do and pulls out your chair for you

You’re surprised, it’s not like he’s never nice to you (though he doesn’t look it, he’s really nice) but you are perfectly capable of doing menial tasks for yourself

So you never expected him to do that, but you appreciated it nevertheless

“Oh, thanks Sho!”

His eyebrows crease

He hums in affirmation and gives a kiss to the top of your head before walking over to his seat

That’s when you know something is wrong

He wasn’t too keen on PDA

So for him to nonchalantly kiss you on the head in class….was kinda fishy

Shoto can’t concentrate all that well in class now

Poor dude is wracking through his brain as to why you just called him Sho

WHY SHO AND WHY NOT BABY???

And now he’s pouting for the entirety of the class

Every time you look over at him he’s like >:/

ngl it’s really cute

You don’t ask Shoto what’s wrong until lunchtime rolls around

Well

You try to

When the lunch bell rings Shoto is like a man on a mission

He beelines toward you

If you hadn’t known what his quirk you would have thought it was super speed

Iida who?

Some of your classmates look at him weird

This is just the image I get in my head lolol

Shoto: 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

Classmates:🤨

But he gets to you in like .5 seconds and he holds his hand out to you

He doesn’t even say anything to you, so you assume he wants to hold your hand

You place your hand in his but he surprises you when he pulls you into a hug

Thankfully everyone had already filed out of the class or else you would have been a burning bundle of embarrassment

“Call me baby please.”

His mouth was right next to your ear and you could feel his lips move against it

Your knees would have surely given out had you not come to a conclusion

You hadn’t called him baby the entire day and he was now clearly perturbed about it

There was one thing you really loved about Shoto, it was pretty easy to fluster him

And you see a perfect opportunity open itself up

Grabbing his face between your hands you pull him away from your ear and smush his cheeks together

“Oh my poor baby, I'm so sorry my baaaaby.”

A blush was quickly creeping its way up his neck

Which only encourages you more

Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded you

“Ok that’s enough….”

“But I haven’t called you baby enough times.”

“I’m going to eat by myself.”

“Wait!”

Bakugo

You did call Bakugo terms of endearment like babe, sweetheart, and the one you use the most, honey

Bakugo claimed to dislike your nicknames, but he secretly really liked them

One day you and Bakugo get into a petty argument

I totally feel like you and he would fight over the smallest shit lmao

And you’re not hanging around his desk before class like you normally do

You’re at Ashido’s desk obviously ignoring him

Which irks him, but that’s fine, he can ignore you too

But he can’t help but eavesdrop on yalls conversation

because Ashido’s desk is very close and totally not because he wants to hear your voice because he already misses it

“Why aren't you at his desk by the way?”

“Hmm, Bakugo’s?”

Oh this catches his immediate attention

He doesn’t even bother hiding his blatant staring at you from across the room

Since the both of you started dating not once have you called him Bakugo

It’s always been your cute gushy nicknames or variations of his first name

Mina already knows what’s up and wants all the details now

She’s huddling closer to you, almost practically on top of your desk

But you never get to spill tea because the bell is ringing

But i assure you that Bakugou is giving you a hard side eye

Cuz he still needs to focus in class (he’s still a good student!!)

Lunchtime rolls around and he very discreetly walks next to you

“Hey”

You turn to look at him and just smile at him with your stupid cute face

He’s happy you’re not outright ignoring him

But he was at least expecting a, “c’mon Tsuki, i wanna get a good table!”

He brushes his pinkie against yours hoping you’d get the hint and hold his hand but nope

You pick up your pace and he sees you wrap your hands around Ashido’s arm, the both of you now animatedly talking

He would have found it cute if you weren’t hanging off of Ashido

That should be me by justin bieber starts playing

Bakugo is now internally raging inside at the lunch table

You would normally sit next to him but you're sitting across from him in between Sero and Kirishima

Man’s is literally stabbing into his food

everyone is now staring at his dramatic ass

buy you're the only one who ends up making a comment about it

"the food is already dead, i don't think you need to do that Bakugo."

he stops murdering his food

he's had enough

He stands up forms his seat, goes over to a very confused you

Very gently, takes a hold of your wrist and starts dragging you up to the school’s rooftop

You’re questioning him the entire time

When you finally get to the rooftop Bakugo lets go of your wrist and just kind of stares at you

He’s silent for a couple of minutes looking like he’s going through a mental battle

Until he finally says something

Something that you can barely make out because he’s turned his head away from you and is grumbling

You: https://youtu.be/Y_3vk411ALE

“Bakugo what?”

There you go calling him by his last name again

“I said I’m sorry, don’t make me repeat myself!”

“Sorry for what??”

You can’t be serious

“For our argument this morning, the reason you’re calling me by my last name.”

“Oh.”

Oh?

JUST OH??

“I thought you were still mad at me so i wanted to give you space, i forgot about our argument way before school started.”

……

ATTENTION: TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE❗❗❗

Bakugo just sighs

He’s too tired to even get frustrated and just wants your attention

So he pulls you into a hug and buries his face into your neck

“Don’t ever do that again.”

You can practically hear the pout in his voice

“I'm sorry honey, i just wanted to give you space.”

“I don’t care about space.”

#mha x you #mha x reader #mha scenarios #mha imagines #mha headcanons #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #shoto x y/n #shoto x reader #shoto imagine #shoto torodoki #bnha imagines #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha scenarios

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 months ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 10

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Feeling the tension rise, Greg nervously tried to leave, but you stepped in. “Don’t!”

“Yes…?” Greg’s voice wavered.

“Don’t tell them I’m pregnant. Because I’m not. I can’t lie about that.” You rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on you, even though it was still early in the morning.

You shot a glance at Greg. “Schedule a press conference. Both of us will speak.”

Greg nodded rapidly. “Yes. Yes, that’s great.” He scurried out of the apartment without a second thought.

Bucky muttered under his breath, “I paid millions for this campaign team, and this is what I get.”

You snapped back at him. “No! Don’t change the subject!” Your voice was sharp, frustration burning in your eyes. “All of this is your idea.”

Bucky didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor frustrating you further. “My idea, yes. But it’s your choice now,” he replied, as if everything was calculated in his favor.

“Me? Lying about being pregnant? Have some humility, Bucky!” You threw your hands up in disbelief.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, calculating smile. “I’m proud of you for making that decision,” he said smoothly, as if this was some twisted game he’d already won. His calmness was unnerving, like he already knew the outcome.

You sighed deeply, your breath heavy with exasperation. Bucky casually walked over to the coffee machine and offered you a cup. You took it, reluctant but exhausted. When you sipped, the familiar taste made you pause. It was perfect—exactly how you liked it. He still remembered.

But even the perfect coffee couldn’t wash away the bitterness and exhaustion hanging over you like a dark cloud.

You set the cup down and looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “What’s the deal you made with Steve?” The question hung in the air, sharp and deliberate, like a card you were waiting to play.

Bucky leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “The deal?” He sipped his own coffee, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—calculation, maybe? “Let’s just say... Steve’s skeletons are a lot messier than mine. I was always just the distraction.”

There was something chilling in the way he spoke, like he was always one step ahead. You realized then—you were in deeper than you thought.

Bucky took a slow sip of his coffee before setting it down on the table. His gaze stayed sharp, his voice deliberate. “The reason he chose me is simple. I’m the gatekeeper. Let’s be real, picking me as the youngest candidate? That’s a huge risk.”

The opponent was formidable—strong, relentless, and hungry for any opportunity to exploit weakness. So, what other option was there?

Bucky was the safest choice, not just because of his background, but because he held Steve’s deepest secrets—truths that couldn’t be silenced with money or threats. Bucky came from wealth, from power, from a lineage that made him untouchable. Steve knew that. He also knew something else: Bucky’s weakness was you.

Despite the disagreements within the party, Steve silenced the dissenters. He’d calculated every move. Choosing Bucky was risky, but Steve needed someone he could control, someone who could take the fall if necessary.

Bucky knew why he was chosen. He understood the game—Steve, the elder statesman, needed a younger face to shield him from the inevitable attacks. Bucky was to be his defense, the gatekeeper, the distraction.

The rumors about you and Bucky were intentional, designed to take the heat off Steve. Let the world believe Bucky was struggling in his personal life. Let them focus on his public spectacle while Steve worked in the shadows, untouchable.

Edgar and Brock—the opponents—would see the headlines and think Steve had been weakened by Bucky’s scandal. But they were wrong. This was the plan all along.

Bucky would take the blame. He would absorb the media’s attention, while Steve quietly solidified his path to the presidency.

For Bucky, it was more than a political maneuver. Accepting Steve's offer wasn’t just about power—it was his chance to break free from the chains his mother had shackled him with. And it was his chance to get you back.

He knew Steve had calculated his every move, and yet, Bucky had his own agenda. In the end, he wasn’t just a pawn in Steve’s game; he was playing his own, too.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “This is why I never wanted to cover elections. Everything is rigged.”

Bucky chuckled softly, a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s politics for you, sweetheart. It’s not about being clean—it’s about playing the game better than everyone else.”

You shifted, suddenly feeling the urge to get answers. “What about Steve’s skeletons?” you asked, your voice edged with curiosity.

Bucky had just picked up a chocolate muffin, but he stopped mid-bite. Setting it down, he met your gaze, dead serious. “I’m the only one who knows,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you. I’ll carry those secrets to my grave.”

His loyalty to Steve was unsettling, a bond you could see ran deep.

“And don’t even think about digging for information,” Bucky warned, his voice firm, eyes hardening. “You’ll put both of us in danger if you try.”

The finality in his tone hit you like a wall. He was serious, and it was clear that stepping into that territory wasn’t just risky—it was deadly.

“Bucky,” you said softly, your voice filled with exhaustion.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his phone, his attention split.

“If I can’t do this anymore... I want to leave.”

The silence that followed was thick. Bucky didn’t respond immediately, didn’t even look up at you. Instead, he remained still, his fingers lightly tapping against his phone. Finally, he spoke, his tone low and measured. “Get ready for the press.”

You sighed heavily, frustration and defeat settling into your chest like a heavy weight. Leave? Could you even escape at this point?

The thought circled in your mind, but Bucky had already made it clear—he wasn’t letting you go that easily. His control, his manipulation—it had all tightened around you like a noose.

And despite everything, despite the lies, the secrets, the betrayal... you could see it in his eyes. He didn’t plan to lose you again.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Soon, you stood next to him in front of a swarm of cameras, bright lights burning into your skin.

Bucky adjusted his suit jacket, offering a polite smile to the flashing lights. He stepped up to the podium, and as soon as he began speaking, it was as if a switch had flipped. The man beside you was no longer just your husband—he had become the perfect politician.

“I want to thank you all for coming here today,” Bucky began, his voice smooth, confident. His gaze swept across the audience, calculated and calm. “Marriage is never easy. It's a journey filled with highs and lows, and like any relationship, it can face... turmoil.”

The word hung in the air, a subtle indication of the cracks beneath the surface.

“Over the last few years, my wife and I have faced our share of challenges. We chose to take separate paths for a time, not because the love was lost, but because we believed it was what we needed. We both needed space to grow as individuals,” he said, pausing to glance at you.

You stood there, silent, watching him weave this narrative so effortlessly. Seeing him like this—so fluent, so convincing—it was almost sickening. He was lying, and yet every word that came from his mouth seemed to be wrapped in a veneer of truth.

“But sometimes,” he continued, “fate brings people back together. We crossed paths again, and in doing so, we rekindled that old romance we once shared. This has not been an easy journey, but we both realized that our love—despite everything—was worth fighting for.”

You forced yourself to stay composed, even as your mind raced. How had he become this person? So skilled in deception, so willing to put on a performance for the world. This wasn’t the man you had married.

This was a man molded by ambition, by politics. He had learned to manipulate truth, to twist it to his advantage. And now, he was using that skill to reshape the story of your marriage.

He went on, his tone softening just enough to appeal to the emotions of the audience. “I know many young couples out there experience similar struggles—times when things seem too difficult to overcome. But I stand here today to tell you that it’s possible. Love is complicated, but it’s also worth the fight.”

The live chat on the screen buzzed with comments, many of them expressing support, calling your relationship ‘inspiring,’ applauding your ‘courage.’ They were buying it. Every single word.

Bucky turned to you, offering a practiced smile. To them, it was a look of adoration. To you, it was a silent warning. Stay in line. Play your part.

As Bucky wrapped up his speech, the room filled with the sound of reporters typing, cameras flashing, and the quiet hum of people whispering. His words had been perfectly delivered—calm, composed, and persuasive. But it was the next moment that truly sealed the deal.

He turned toward you, and for a brief second, his eyes met yours. You could see the flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or exhaustion. But before you could fully process it, he stepped closer. The cameras zoomed in, the world seemed to hold its breath, and Bucky pulled you into a tight embrace.

His hands rested on your waist, steady, as though he were trying to ground himself. You stiffened at first, the tension between you impossible to ignore, but the weight of the press watching forced you to respond. Slowly, you lifted your arms and hugged him back, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

Then, without warning, his lips brushed against yours. A kiss, soft but purposeful, meant to sell the image of a couple rekindling their love. The cameras went wild, and you could feel every flash burning the moment into eternity. But beneath the act, you could sense the hollowness of it all.

"Still think we’re good at pretending?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Maybe it’s not all pretending."

You stayed locked in his arms for a moment longer, both of you playing your roles. To everyone watching, you were the perfect couple, finding your way back to each other. But to you, it felt like a performance—one more layer of the deception you both had to endure.

And yet, for all the pretending, there was an undeniable truth beneath it. The way Bucky held you tighter, as if he needed that connection to steady himself, made it clear. He wasn’t just showing the world something—they both needed this.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once the press conference ended, you felt drained—emotionally and physically. As you walked off the stage, Bucky’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately.

��Steve,” he greeted, his voice low. You stood beside him, listening quietly.

“Didn’t expect it to go this well,” Steve’s voice crackled through the line. “Good job. I was hoping you could drag this out for a few more days, though.”

Bucky leaned against the table, his tone casual but firm. “I couldn’t do that. My wife’s already pissed about this. I’m not pushing her any further.” His eyes flicked to you as he spoke, his face unreadable.

There was a pause on the other end. Then Steve’s voice came again, smoother this time. “Still, you handled it well. Let’s hope the media stays focused on you two and not... anything else.”

Bucky smirked, the expression barely reaching his eyes. “They will. This whole mess? It’s just a distraction, Steve. You know that.”

Steve chuckled lightly. “I’m counting on it.”

Bucky ended the call without another word, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He turned to you, eyes narrowing slightly. “See? Everything’s under control.” He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm, but you pulled away.

Control. That’s what it was always about with him. And for now, he had it. But for how long?

You noticed something you hadn’t before—Bucky’s jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, and his grip on the phone was tighter than usual. His usual confident façade seemed to falter, even if just for a moment. He looked... uneasy.

You had never seen him like this, not even during the press conference. Something about that call with Steve had rattled him. The way his eyes darkened, how his fingers twitched slightly as if restraining himself from saying more—it was a side of him you rarely witnessed.

And in that fleeting moment, you understood. It wasn’t just you who felt trapped in this web of lies and manipulation. It was Bucky, too. For all his calm demeanor, all his calculated moves, he was just as cornered.

He wasn’t in control like he wanted you to believe.

For the first time, you realized that Bucky wasn’t just pulling the strings—he was tangled in them. Just as trapped as you, if not more so. The weight of Steve’s power over him, the pressure of the campaign, the expectations, the secrets—it was all bearing down on him, too.

And in a strange, twisted way, it made him seem... vulnerable.

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