#kids name necklace for mom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

favefandomimagines · 2 months ago

Text

The Alchemy (j.m)

Request: @mrslestappen “May I request ( shy!Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank ) pleaseeeeee, where she has been friends with the boys just like Kie, (Kie, her and Sarah were the trio of friends) and after they reconciled she is super happy because she has her two best friends back. And let's just say JJ has a soft spot for her, even though she's a kook he's always taken care of her. And they have matching necklaces (the shark tooth one, let's just say that when he got his he also created hers and they have always had matching necklaces) + kind of obsessed with her (in a nice way) and let's say because she's always been with the guys she's never really been in a relationship so imagine the reaction JJ would have if she tells him she wants him to be her first kiss (first kiss is soft, second one is hot/possesive poor JJ will devour her, because only he knows how long he waited) and the rest I'll leave it up to you. (In my head this sounded better sorry)”

Summary: she always was going to pick him, he just needed to show her.

JJ Maybank didn't think he'd ever like a Kook. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever even tolerate one. The Kooks were the people who had everything he and the other Pogues didn’t.

They were the rich kids on the other side of the island, the ones with trust funds, yachts, and pristine lives. JJ had seen enough of their type to last a lifetime, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

Except for her.

Her name was Y/N Y/L/N, and she was the only Kook JJ had ever been able to stomach. In fact, he more than just "stomached" her — he adored her.

He couldn't remember when it started, but he was pretty sure it was around the time he realized girls were more than just annoying distractions during surf sessions.

Somewhere between scraped knees on the beach as kids and sharing late-night bonfire confessions, Y/N had become more than just his friend.

She wasn’t like the rest of the Kooks. Y/N might have lived in one of the fanciest houses on Figure Eight, but she didn’t act like it. She hung out with JJ, John B, and Pope since they were kids, running wild through the marshes and crashing parties on the Cut.

Her mom used to be close with John B’s mom before she left, which meant Y/N spent almost as much time in the Chateau as John B himself. She was their bridge between worlds, best friends with Kie and, surprisingly, even got along with Sarah Cameron after their recent reconciliation.

JJ had given her a shark tooth necklace that matched his own back when they were kids, and she had worn it ever since. The necklace was a symbol, a quiet testament to their shared adventures and secrets.

It rested just below her collarbone, a constant reminder that she belonged with the Pogues, even if she didn’t entirely fit into their world.

For the most part, JJ was content just having her around. But sometimes, like right now, with the sun setting over the water and Y/N laughing at something John B had said, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest that he wanted more. More than just her friendship, more than just stolen glances and the occasional accidental brush of hands.

It was one of those hot, sticky Outer Banks afternoons when Y/N came to find him. JJ was at the dock, cleaning up the HMS Pogue, when he saw her walking toward him. She looked like sunshine personified, with her long hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling as if she held the secrets of the universe.

“Hey, JJ,” she greeted, her voice light and carefree, but there was something nervous in the way she bit her lip.

“What’s up, Princess?” he asked, straightening up and wiping his hands on his jeans.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her fingers toying with the shark tooth necklace he had given her. “I, uh, need to talk to you about something.”

JJ’s heart sank a little, the teasing grin on his face faltering. Usually, that phrase meant bad news. “What did you do this time? Burn down another country club?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but laughed. “No, JJ, not this time. It’s… it’s about a guy.”

JJ froze. “A guy?” he echoed, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath him.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice softening. “I… I got asked out on a date.”

JJ’s stomach dropped, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He’d always known this day would come eventually, but he wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt. “Who?” he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice steady.

“His name’s Trevor. He’s new in town, just moved here from Wilmington,” she explained, her eyes flicking to JJ’s face to gauge his reaction.

He knew the guy — tall, dark hair, probably some rich Kook kid whose family had money to burn. JJ felt the jealousy bubble up, hot and fierce. “And when’s this date supposed to happen?”

“Tomorrow night,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The girl he’d been in love with for years was going on a date with some random guy who had just waltzed into town. “Do you even like this dude?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, looking genuinely conflicted. “But… what if he tries to kiss me?”

JJ’s jaw clenched. “Then tell him to back off,” he snapped, his temper flaring.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not that simple, JJ. I’ve never… I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

The admission hung in the air between them, and JJ felt his heart stutter. Y/N, the girl who could light up a room with just her smile, had never had her first kiss. It was almost unfathomable. He swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the tidal wave of emotions crashing over him.

“Y/N…” he began, not sure what to say.

“I know it’s dumb,” she said quickly, looking down at her feet. “But I don’t want to mess it up. What if I’m terrible at it?”

He wanted to laugh because there was no way in hell she’d be bad at anything. “Are you seriously asking me for kissing advice?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Actually… I was hoping you could… you know… be my first kiss.”

JJ’s mind went blank. Of all the things he expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. He stared at her, trying to wrap his head around the idea that the girl he’d been crazy about for years was asking him to be her first kiss. But not because she wanted him in that way — no, it was just so she wouldn’t screw up with some other guy.

“Y/N, are you serious?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink. “I trust you, JJ. I know you won’t make it weird.”

Too late for that, he thought bitterly. But he couldn’t say no to her, not when she was looking at him like that. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But if I’m gonna be your first kiss, I’m not gonna half-ass it.”

Her eyes sparkled with gratitude, and she took a step closer to him.

They stood on the dock, the sun casting golden light over the water. JJ’s heart was pounding in his chest as Y/N moved even closer, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. He could see the nervous flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips parted just slightly.

“Just… close your eyes, okay?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotions he couldn’t quite name.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips trembling ever so slightly. JJ took a deep breath, his hand moving up to gently cup her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin, and he could feel her shiver under his touch.

Then, with a tenderness he didn’t even know he was capable of, JJ leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, gentle, the kind of kiss that could be over in the blink of an eye if you weren’t careful. But for JJ, it felt like the world had stopped. Her lips were warm and soft against his, and he could feel the way her fingers clutched at his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard, their eyes locked.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Y/N was staring at him, her eyes wide and dazed. “That was… perfect,” she whispered. But then, as if realizing herself, she shook her head. “But maybe… one more time? Just to make sure I’ve got it?”

JJ’s breath hitched. This time, he didn’t hold back. He kissed her again, harder, more desperate, like he was trying to pour every unsaid word and unspoken feeling into that kiss. His hands cupped her face, Y/N melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair, and he was lost. He was completely and utterly lost in her.

When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for air. JJ rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face. “Don’t go on that date, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. And then she smiled, that beautiful, sunlit smile that he loved so much. “Yeah… I think I need to cancel that date,” she said softly.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the Pogues found out. Kie was ecstatic, practically tackling Y/N in a hug when she found out, while John B just grinned knowingly. Pope was the most surprised, but even he seemed happy for them.

“Finally!” Kie exclaimed, throwing her arms around JJ and Y/N “I was wondering how long it would take you two to figure it out.”

JJ just grinned, pulling Y/N close to his side. “Better late than never, right?”

The group celebrated their newfound relationship with a bonfire at the beach, laughter and music filling the night air. JJ couldn’t keep his hands off Y/N, whether it was holding her hand or wrapping an arm around her waist. He’d spent so long wanting this, and now that he had it, he wasn’t letting go.

As the night drew to a close, JJ pulled Y/N aside, away from the others. “I’m glad you picked me,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes shining. “I always would have picked you, JJ. I just needed you to show me first.”

He kissed her again, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that felt like coming home. And for the first time in his life, JJ Maybank felt like he had everything he ever wanted.

The waves crashed around them, the world fading away until it was just the two of them, lost in each other. The Pogues cheered in the background, but JJ didn’t hear any of it.

All he could focus on was the girl in his arms, the girl who had always been more than just a Kook, more than just a friend. She was everything.

And she was his.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #outer banks imagine #john b routledge #kiara carrera #rafe cameron #rudy pankow #sarah cameron #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #obx #obx season 4

555 notes · View notes

mxnhoo · 16 days ago

Text

christmas love (s. jy)

✎ sim jaeyun x reader genre established relationship, christmas date, jake has a good relationship with reader's entire family, jake is SUCH a sweetie and gentleman, reader calls jake her husband, playing in the snow (snowball fight, snowman, snow angel), shopping, smacking ass, confession/words of affirmation (can you tell that i love writing this - ironic how my love language isnt even this), one bed trope, pure relationship, pet names, showering together with no intentions, opening up to each other for the first time, vulnerability, not proofread (will get it done soon i promise), lots of consent warnings like 1-2 suggestive jokes, not much tbh, vulnerability (?) word count 4.3k cly's note MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! i wanted to write something to gift yall for christmas, so i hope yall enjoy this! i'm like really proud of this. also i have plans coming up for the rest of the week so ill probably be inactive for a while, so enjoy my last writing for the meantime! happy holidays everyone~

now playing christmas love — stray kids "You make this Christmas red and white"

Ring!

The loud sound emerged from the front of your house, causing everyone's heads to shoot towards the same direction. Everyone had a puzzled face plastered across their face, and your little sister immediately looked at you. Who could it be, ringing your doorbell on Christmas Eve?

"Y/N, go get it!"

You looked at her puppy eyes and sighed in defeat, not having any chance to win against her, so you stood up on your feet and pushed your chair back, making your way to your front door. Twisting the knob, you opened the door and was met with a man.

Not just any man — your man.

Before you could even react, he shoved a bouquet filled with your favourite flowers for your face while exclaiming "Merry Christmas love!".

Your sister immediately started shouting and running towards the front door. "Is that Jakey?!"

You looked at him in surprise, him appearing at your front door with a bouquet filled with your favourite flowers and as you observed him longer, you realised he had his hair slicked up when it was usually covering his forehead and that he was in a dark blue denim jacket with a white shirt underneath.

"Baby- oh my gosh. What're you doing here?" you questioned, still feeling flabbergasted yet overjoyed at his appearance. "Aren't you supposed to be celebrating with your family?"

Your sister tugged on your shirt and when she realised it was indeed Jake, she exclaimed "Jakey!" and ran to hug him. Jake chuckled and patted your little sister's head with his free hand, looking at her with warm eyes.

"Hey little princess, happy to see me?" he smiled at your little sister and your little sister immediately started jumping. "Yes! Come on, spend Christmas with us!"

She started pulling his hand towards the kitchen table and you could only laugh at the warm sight of your little sister and boyfriend bonding together. He sneaked a glance at you and winked before your sister successfully dragged him to the kitchen table where your parents were. You sighed from how ecstatic you felt and closed the door behind you, following your boyfriend and sister back to the kitchen.

You were met with the sight of your parents and Jake laughing and talking to each other, and you could only lean against the wall and fold your arms while you cherished the view. "I know I came here very suddenly, but I'm not empty handed"

Your eyes immediately focused on Jake who seemed to have planned something, and you could see him immediately search for things in his sling bag. He took out 2 boxes, one square and the other a thin rectangle and handed it to your mom and dad respectfully.

Your mother spoke, "My-my, what is this- Oh my gosh!". Your eyes immediately flickered to her in curiousity, wondering what Jake got for your mother to cause her big reaction and she continued, "The necklace that I've always wanted! How did you know I wanted this?!".

"And the watch I've always wanted!" your dad added on.

Your jaw dropped at the gifts your parents had received. You had a gist of how much the things they received costed, and it was not cheap at all. Your parents immediately start thanking Jake and insisting they would pay him back but Jake refused and gave them his wishes.

"Me me! What about me?" your sister pouted, wishing that she had a gift too. He kneeled down to be eye-to-eye with her and patted her, "Do you think I forgot about you? I got you....". He stuck his hand into his sling bag again, and your sister's eyes lit up in hope, pressing her hands together like she was praying, and when he pulled out his gift for her, she screamed in joy and immediately took her gift.

"A new doll! Thank you Jakey!"

He only chuckled at how cute she looked and patted her again. You finally had to step in, wanting to get more answers from your boyfriend, like — why was he here? When did he even get these gifts? You stepped beside him and held his waist, wanting to ask to talk to him in private but he beat you to speaking first.

"My beautiful is here! Say, Ms L/N and Mr L/N, could I take your daughter out for Christmas?" he asked and your jaw immediately dropped.

"Of course you can! Go, take her, have fun!" your mom answered without hesitation, flicking her hand towards the two of you. Both of your heads turned to each other and while you had your jaw dropped, he grinned at you. After a second or two, he nodded and you finally processed everything that was happening.

"I'm not dressed up though.." you pouted and he shook his head. "It's okay, you look good in every way". He caressed your hair and you smiled warmly at him.

"Okay, give me 5 minutes," you requested and he nodded. You immediately went to your room and tried finding clothes to wear out for this very last-minute date.

This was the fastest 5 minutes of your life. The amount of clothes you've rummaged through and ended up on your bed was insane, and your makeup tools were all over your table since you had little to no time to clean it up. I mean, at least you looked decent with only 5 minutes of preperation?

You stepped out and saw Jake playing with your little sister in the living room, high-fiving each other, and as soon as he heard you step out, his head shot up and his eyes lit up. He gave you a cheeky smile, and he looked back at your sister, "Hey princess, I'm going to go on a date with your sister now, make sure you sleep early, kays?".

"I wanna go on a date with you too!" your sister whined and you giggled. He caressed her cheek, "Soon, okay? I'll bring your sister too and we'll buy everything you want, sounds good to you?".

Your sister held up her pinky and demanded, "Promise me now!". Jake heaved a sigh and twisted pinkies with her, "Promise".

When your sister and Jake was done, you approached him and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a faint kiss mark and his face grew to a light shade of pink, "Looking so beautiful as always".

He held onto your waist and the two of you walked to the kitchen where your parents were, and you announced that you two were about to leave.

"Take care, lovebirds!" your mom exclaimed. "I trust you Jaeyun, take care of our precious Y/N" your dad added on.

"I most definitely will, sir. So sorry for being last minute but I really wanted to surprise her," Jake responded, his tone sounding confident and you looked at him, your heart fluttering. He turned to you and caught you staring, but you just couldn't look away. He has always looked handsome, but tonight he just..

"Let's go now, baby?"

"Yeah..." you muttered, not realising how red your cheeks looked right now. You looked away and cleared your throat, "Mom, dad, we're going now — could you help me put the flowers in a vase?".

Your mom pushed you and Jake towards the door, "We got it covered, go, go! Don't wanna see you, have fun!". As soon as the two of you were out the door, you both looked at each other and beamed.

Laughter filled the air as you pushed your trolley, looking back as you saw Jake behind you, charging towards you. You continued running as if there was no tomorrow. "C'mere!" he exclaimed, hint of mischeviousness in his voice and you simply giggled, feeling the adrenaline as he chased you.

At one point of time, you'd abandoned your trolley and you managed to lose Jake. You were peeking over the shelf, trying to look out for Jake.

"Looking for me?" a voice emerged from the right side of your ear, and you immediately jumped, turning your head to the Jake who was leaning in to your right ear. "Gosh, you scared me!" you whined, hitting his chest and pouting and he simply stuck his tongue out, "Caught you".

After a few more playful rounds of running from each other, you two finally agreed to do proper Christmas shopping together, buying things suited for each other. You both placed stupid hats on each other, taking ugly photos and teasing each other.

"Say, that grinch mask really fits you~" you teased and immediately, he smacked your butt, causing you to jump. He wiggled his eyebrows mischeviously, "Wanna say that again?".

Holding an ice cream cup in your hand, you walked side-by-side with Jake. He held the plastic bag containing all the things you and him bought from the supermarket (he paid for it) and you held up a spoonful of ice cream towards his mouth.

"Ahh," you sounded as you gestured for him to open his mouth. He did as you said and opened his mouth, allowing you to feed him. You hummed in satisfaction and continued walking and as you looked up, you realised that there was a large Christmas tree in a distance. It was brightly lit with diverse colours and there were a lot of people crowding around it.

With your free hand, you held Jake's wrist. "We have to see that tree!" "Sure" was all he said before you hastily started dragging him towards the large tree, giggling in excitement as you start getting closer. As soon as the two of you were at the tree, you both looked up in awe from how big and beautiful it was.

In the corner of your eye, you started to see white particles in the air falling to the ground. You released Jake's wrist slowly and held your hand up, watching as a small white particle fell on your hand and melts. It's snow. It's snowing.

"No way, first snow!" you exclaimed and turned to Jake's direction. He looked as flabbergasted as you, eyes widened and mouth agape at the news. "No fucking way!" he gleed, feeling euphoric at the new experience.

"We have to build a snowman child and name it together!" he suggested and you could practically see stars in his eyes. You chuckled at how adorable he was, caressing his cheek and tilting your head as you stared at him with a loving gaze.

"Whatever you want, handsome, but we need to wait a while before the snow builds up".

And that is exactly what you did.

You two killed time by walking around the city and taking photos of each other, doing more Christmas shopping and even taking photobooth pictures together.

With both of your hands' interlocked, you both came across multiple food trucks selling hot food and you both couldn't resist at all. You both had agreed to get different foods so you two could share, and as Jake paid the food truck owner the money, his eyes immediately scanned the area for you.

He walked around, looking at different people and searching for you, but you weren't anywhere. He slowly started to grow nervous, biting his lip and walking around more frantically, a worried expression plastered across his face, and just as soon as he was about to call of for you, he spotted you.

You were squatting down at the corner, playing around and feeding food to kids that were giggling and surrounding you. "Do you have a husband?!" one of the kids exclaimed, giggling as you booped his nose with your finger.

You were caught off-guard by the question, a tint of pink colouring your cheeks as you smiled to yourself. "Husband? Sure, I guess you could say that".

Jake heard the whole conversation and felt his heart race at you calling him "husband". He practically froze and could hear his own heartbeat, biting his lip as he stared at you in awe. You could feel someone's gaze on you so you looked up and immediately locked eyes with him, giving him a reassuring smile.

"There's my husband, kids".

It was growing closer to midnight and enough snow finally piled up before you and Jake could play in the snow together. At this point of time, there wasn't a lot of people in the streets since it was almost late and in the area you and Jake were in, it was just the two of you and probably one to two other strangers.

You bent down to gather snow in your hands before you threw it towards Jake and he skillfully dodged, sticking his tongue out at you before he did the same and managed to successfully hit your arm.

"One hit means one kiss that you owe me!" he shouted and you gasped, feeling the competitive side of you coming out.

You both immediately started to shout and throw snowballs at each other, exclaiming and giggling when managing to hit the other, then when both of you grew tired, you both made 2 mini nose-less snowmans that you both named "Sim Jr" and "L/N Jr".

With your hands starting to freeze, you start to shiver and Jake immediately notices, wrapping his denim jacket around you without saying a word. "What about you? You're literally just in a shirt!" you said with concern as your eyebrows furrow upwards, "Aren't you cold?".

"I'm okay, love, don't worry about me," he caressed your head and placed a kiss on you forehead.

He sat down on the snow and wiggled his eyebrows for you to join him. You followed him and he layed down, the snow cushioning him. He started making a half snow angel and catching onto what he was doing, you laid beside him and completed his snow angel.

You two looked into each other's eyes then looked at the dark sky that was filled with so many white spots that lit up the darkness.

"I love being with you" he suddenly confessed, "More than you can ever imagine".

"Thank you for this day, Yunie," you scooched closer to him, seeking his warmth from the snow surrounding your bodies.

"Anything to see that smile on your face, love," he kissed your forehead.

And just when you thought you were going to go home, a snow storm started and the building that you and Jake hurried into was conveniently a hotel. Transporation had stopped, preventing from the two of you from returning home. Though it was unexpected, you weren't complaining that you could spend more time with him.

Sitting on the chairs in the lobby of the hotel, you messaged your parents and informed them of the situation.

y/n : @mama L/N @papa L/N i can't go home cos a snow storm started and transporation completely stopped..

You tapped your feet, nervously waiting for their reply and you received a new message.

mama L/N : Oh no! mama L/N : Jake is still with you right? mama L/N : Make sure you stay with him papa L/N : Take care.

You started typing a message

y/n : yup, we're in a hotel rn

You heard footsteps approaching you and as you turned your head upwards, you see Jake walking up to you. He raised his eyebrows at you and held the room card upwards, and you got up. The two of you start making way to your room.

You were starting to feel nervous, because although you were comfortable with your boyfriend, the thought about being alone with him in a hotel room makes you feel giddy. It felt more intimate than you wanted to be, and it made your heart pound harder.

As you stepped into the room, you're met with the welcoming cold air that blew into your face, and walked further into the room, you saw that there was only one bed. You unintensionally gasped and Jake, who was curious, followed behind you and followed your gaze.

"Ah shit, I didn't realise that this type of room only had one bed," he spoke and looked at you to see your reaction to the situation. Seeing that you were completely stunned, he panicked.

"H-hey, don't worry about it, I can sleep on the couch"

With blush creeping up to your cheeks, you turned to him and refused, "No!". Your refusal was louder than you'd anticipated and you cleared your throat, "I mean- no, i-it's okay, we can sleep together".

He approached you and held your waist, placing a peck on your cheek. "You can be honest Y/N".

"No! Really, I want to sleep with you" you sputtered out.

He had a mischevious look on his face which confused you, but when he started wiggling his eyebrows you understood what he thought of. "Not in that way!" you playfully smacked his chest.

The water was streaming out of the waterhead, falling down from your head to your body. You had this thought ever since you started dating, and you could feel your heart pounding as you debate whether you should ask him.

"Jake!"

Jake slightly opened the bathroom door but didn't come in. "Yes princess? Need anything?"

"Yeah.." "What do you need?" "Want you to shower with me..." you mumbled under your breath. "Did you say something?" "I said! I want you to shower with me"

You did it. You said it. You bit your lip, feeling nervous that he'd find your idea weird, or that he wouldn't want to. There was a moment of silence and you could hear your own heart beat. You were almost starting to regret asking the question until he spoke up.

"Are you okay if I come in right now?"

Your heart pounded faster at the thought of him seeing you bare. The fact that you were going to see him bare too was making your head spin.

"Y-yeah. Come in."

You hid behind the curtain. You heard the bathroom door open and click close. No words were said, and you could her ruffling of clothing. After a minute or two of ruffling sounds, he asked again. "Are you really sure about it? Showering with me?"

"I am, just.. come in," you nervously spat out.

You guarded yourself by covering your chest with your arms as you mentally prepared for him to take in the view of you being completely bare. As he pulled the curtain aside and stepped in, you puffed your cheeks and avoided eye contact.

"H-hey," he attempted in breaking the awkward atmosphere. "H-hi.." your voice went soft and you turned your back to him.

The water was only splashing on you, so he cleared his throat before coming closer to you and pressing himself on you. You gasped and jumped at the warmth and closeness, and he hesitated before placing his palms on your waist.

He reassured, "It's okay, it's just me". You remained frozen, your mind blank and you struggled to find words. "Can you look at me?"

You slowly turned around, still avoiding eye contact with him. "There".

"No, you're not looking". His hands moved away from your waist and he softly gripped your wrists, "First, you have to..". He slowly pulled your arms that was covering you, away, and your arms fell to yourself.

There was a moment of silence as you could feel him scanning your body. "You look absolutely gorgeous".

Your heart fluttered at his compliment, but you almost couldn't believe that he thought of you that way.

He added on, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, "I mean it".

You weakly smiled, still avoiding eye contact. He sighed and continued, "Second, you have to look at me". He cupped your jaw and slowly tilted your head upwards, your eyes finally meeting with his.

You stared into each other's eyes, and his eyes were filled with so much warmth. So much love. "See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Sorry.." you felt guilty for being so awkward when you were the one who initiated.

"Don't be sorry, silly," he flashed a warm smile before kissing your forehead. "Let's actually shower now, shall we?"

During the shower, it was mostly silent unlike how you two usually were — teasing and laughing together. This moment was different, and much more vulnerable than you could imagine.

"Hey, put your hair to one side," he asked softly.

You did as he said and he started to scrub your back carefully. Though no words were spoken, you and him grew closer and silently opened up to each other.

You sat in front of the mirror as he helped to blowdry and comb your hair. "Do you girls have to do this every single day?", he questioned as he continued to brush through your hair. By now, the awkward tension was still there, but was slowly fading.

"Yup, tiring right?". "Dang, yeah it is tiring" he commented. "But it is fun! So, if you want me to.. brush your hair for you like this, just call me, 'kay?".

You chuckled, "Okay".

You two were on the same bed and the awkward tension has returned, though it has significantly reduced. You had your back facing him, and even though you tried falling asleep, your mind was continuously racing. You'd assume that it was just you panicking and that he'd already fallen asleep.

"You still up?" he muttered, being careful to not be too loud to accidentally wake you up, but also to be audible enough for you to hear if you were conscious.

"Yeah." "What're you thinking about?"

You turned around and faced him. He was already staring at you, and you stared into his eyes but you couldn't read him. You didn't know what he was thinking.

You didn't know what to say, so you remained silent. "Are you thinking about me?"

Damn. Bingo.

"Yeah.." you shamelessly admitted.

"Me too. I'm thinking about a lot," he confessed, and it was the last thing you expected. "I want to do a lot, but I don't want to rush it".

You stayed quiet as you silently agreed with him. You almost felt relieved that you weren't the only one who felt nervous, the only one whose mind was racing with thoughts.

You mustered up the courage to ask. "Can.. I hug you to sleep?"

His expression softened as he heard your request and he immediately opened his arms, "You don't have to ask, c'mere".

You immediately scooched over to him into his embrace, and his arms wrapped around you perfectly. His hands rested on your back, gently patting you as he tried to coo you to sleep.

"I love you," you said.

There was a moment of silence, and you could feel Jake suddenly freeze around you. You felt nervous about how he'd respond and you bit your lip. He brought his hand up to your face and caressed your cheek.

"I love you too. So fucking much I could die".

Your heart fluttered and you almost felt like you were dreaming. You couldn't explain the emotions you were feeling, but all you knew was that you wish this moment wouldn't end. You wish that you'd be with Jake forever.

"Can I.. kiss you?" you requested again. He nodded, but before he could make any moves, you placed your lips on his, starting a passionate and loving kiss.

As you fluttered your eyes open, you are immediately met with the smell of freshly made food. It was sweet, and your mouth immediately watered. Your eyes scanned the room, and you could see Jake cooking something at the small kitchen the hotel room had. You pulled the covers away and silently made your way to him.

"Boo!" you scared him and he yelped while jumping. "Gosh! Don't scare me like that!" he exhaled as he realised it was only you. You giggled and ruffled his head. You wanted to tease him, but you looked over his shoulder and realised he was making pancakes.

"Pancakes?! How'd you get the ingredients?" "I went out to buy" "With all that snow outside?!" "Yeah, why not?"

You pouted your lips, feeling guilty for making him go through all of that.

"I know you love pancakes in the morning," he said as he continued to make the pancakes. Your heart melted at his thoughtfulness and you felt like he was a gift from God. He was all you could ever ask for and you couldn't imagine anyone else other than him.

"And I love you too," you pecked him cheekily before walking away towards the small dining table.

You could tell that he was quite stunned from what you did, because you heard footsteps following you. "What did you just do?"

"Kiss you," you turned to face him, seeing his redenned cheeks. Enjoying the view of his flustered state, you challenged "Want another one?".

Without hesiitation, he answered. "Yes".

An impressed expression took over your facial features and you looked around the room, almost missing the mistletoe that was conveniently hanging above the two of you.

You cleared your throat and approached him, cupping his cheeks before leaning in and closing the distance, clashing your lips together.

The two of you slowly kissed, taking your time to enjoy each other's warmth. His hands made its' way up to cup your cheeks, slightly tilting your head so he could kiss you better. The kiss was slow, yet you two had no problem following each other's pace. You sneaked your tongue in, causing him to hitch his breath, and he didn't put a fight against you. He allowed you to explore his mouth as much as you liked, and he started to smile during the kiss.

After a minute or two, you two pulled back because both of you were running out of air, and he held your waist, pulling you close. He looked at you with a warm and loving gaze as he tilted his head. You returned the expression to him, running your hand through his hair.

"Merry Christmas, Jake" "Merry Christmas, Y/N"

259 notes · View notes

plomegranate · 1 year ago

Text

i love palestinian and arab culture so much.

my grandma wearing thobes around the house and making us tamriyeh. my cousins wedding when we all wore thobes and keffiyehs and took photos downtown and we danced with someone playing the guitar on the street and this lady stopping us to tell us we all looked so beautiful. walking the graduation stage in a thobe. the girl who liked to guess arab peoples ethnicities telling me "you're wearing tatreez... do you want me to write 'palestinian' on your forehead?" the keffiyeh my brother keeps on the drivers seat of his car.

my dad sending me off to my last semester of college with 2 pomegranates and a jar of palestinian olive oil. my cousins wife coming up with new ways to make zaatar and cheese pastries. me and my grandma sitting on the floor and making waraq 3neb- my job was to separate the leaves so she could roll them easier. my mom sending me and my brother to school with eid cookies for my teachers and tasking us with delivering some to the neighbors. my aunt glaring at me and piling more food on my plate and then asking if i was still hungry (i wasnt). my mom always telling me to invite my friends and cousins over for dinner and asking me what they like to eat. my family getting my dad knafeh instead of cake for his birthday. the man who told me i made the "best fetteh in the western hemisphere".

the man in the shawarma shop who gave me my fries for free and baklava i didnt order because we spoke about being palestinian while he took my order. the person on tumblr who i bonded with because we are from the same palestinian city. the girl i met on campus who exclaimed "youre palestinian? me too!" because i was wearing my keffiyeh. the girl in my class that showed me the artwork about palestine her dad made and donated for fundraising. the couple in the grocery store who noticed my palestinian shirt and talked with me for 20 minutes and ended up being a family friend. the silly palestinian kids i tutored sighing in disappointment when i told them i was born in america because they were hoping that id have been born "somewhere cooler". my friends family who bought me dinner despite me being there by chance and having met me for the first time the day before.

the boys starting uncoordinated dabke lines in my high school's hallways. the songs about the longing and love for our land. the festivals and parties and gatherings where everything smells like shisha and oud. memories of waiting in the car for an hour as my parents talked at the doorway of their friends homes. my cousins and i showing up at each others homes with cake or fruit or games as if it was the first time we ever visited even though we always say "you dont have to".

kids stubbornly helping to clean and make tea after a meal while being told to go sit down because they are guests. the necklaces in the shape of our home countries. people hugging and laughing and acting as if theyve known each other for years because they come from the same city or know people with the same last name. the day i finally got to bully my friends into letting me pay the bill because i had a job and they were still students. my moms friend who calls us every time she's at the grocery store to see if we need something

palestinian people are so resilient and hardworking and charitable. they love their culture and their community and are so quick to share and welcome anyone in. everyday i am so thankful and proud to be part of such a warm and lovely culture

#my love letter to palestine and its culture #free palestine #for those who dont know:#thobe: traditional embroidered dress. theres a lot of meaning behind the designs and different styles are indicative of the region #tatreez: the embroidery style #waraq 3neb: stuffed grapeleaves #dabke: traditional dance. look up videos theyre quite fun #shisha: the stuff smoked in hookah #oud: popular perfume/cologne scent #tamriyeh: fried dough dessert #keffiyeh: traditional scarf #zaatar: spice mix of mostly thyme #fetteh: dish made with bread yogurt chickpeas and nuts #knafeh: dessert made of cheese and shredded filo dough #there is so much more i can add. i really could go on forever #mine #plomegrantalk

2K notes · View notes

makethemhoesmad · 17 days ago

Text

merry christmas, please don’t call

merry christmas!!!!

azzi x paige

1.14k words

please live react

if you’re sad about the angst blame @lupinqs and @imaginespazzi

—

“fuck this,” paige groans, flinging herself down onto the couch and bringing her hands to her face. she’d been sitting, rigid, staring at the gifts with her name under the tree, wondering if she should return them or save them. some of them, she’d bought three months ago, so soon she could probably still bring them back and get a refund. she flips her phone over, checking to see if one of the girls had messaged her, inviting her over to do something. it was christmas eve, after all. no messages, not even one that she definitely wasn’t looking for.

…

azzi’s laugh rings through her family’s living room, but if someone would have looked at her, they would have seen that it barely brushed her smile, didn’t even touch her eyes. there weren’t even any presents for paige under the tree, she noted. her mom had definitely bought something, they love loved her too much to not have thought of her before it happened. would they get them to paige still, somehow? what would azzi do with the hoodie, the shoes, the necklace she bought her?

who was she kidding, she’d sleep with them tonight, clutching them tight in her arms while wearing something else that still smelled like her, in the sheets they used to share.

…

paige knocks back another glass of something. definitely not very festive, she knows that much. sadly, it’s the only way she sees fit to rinse the images of her in matching christmas pajamas, baking cookies, under the covers…

stop, paige tells herself, because this is pathetic. begging on your damn knees because your girl(sorry, ex girl) was in a mood about an injury and told you to go fuck yourself, so you told her to go right on out of your bed. And you haven’t spoken to her since, unless it’s about basketball. Because it’s always about basketball

…

azzi gets nice and settled with her family, tucked in tight together on the couch to watch the Grinch, this year’s choice holiday movie. and it’s fine, azzi can sit there and try to forget, until a seemingly innocent little scene comes on. one who rushes up behind her husband, catching a quick goodbye kiss. that sends her over the edge, because she didn’t get a goodbye kiss. she should be cuddled here with her family and paige, and giggle when paige pecks her on the lips right along with the movie

she stands up abruptly, shaking her head and running into her room. she flings herself onto her bed, burying her face in paige’s hoodie, still laying there.

when katie fudd walks into the room, sitting on her daughter’s bed and lightly rubbing her back, she’s thinking of paige, too. she knows that’s who azzi needs in times like this, even when paige is the reason azzi gets like this. the only way to fix her issue with paige, sadly, is with paige.

“you should call her, sweetie”

azzi sits up, shaking her head as her tear stained face crumples again. “no, you don’t get it. she begged me not to call her. told me that if i called her, she knew we’d be right back to where we were, with the same issues.” a sob comes out at the end, because really, all azzi wants to do is call paige, beg her to hop on a flight and make it here by morning, then never let her leave her arms again.

“where’s my phone,” she sighs, teary eyes set in a determined stare.

…

paige startles awake, her phone buzzing under her pillow. the contact lit on her screen is the only one she didn’t want to see, couldn’t see. for some insane, unexplained reason, she slides to answer the call.

she hears a snuffle on the other end, then a voice croaking out, “paigey”

her resolve softens, just the way she knew it would.

“baby, is everything okay? did something happen?” she asks, even though she knows what azzi will tell her. this is what happens every time they fight, and one of them has to leave a few days after. except this time, it’s christmas.

“no, nothing is okay,” azzi whimpers into the phone. miles away, she’s clutching the phone like a lifeline, waving her mother out of the bedroom. “i need you, please, i need anything. i need to listen to you call me baby, and hold me in your arms.”

paige tries, she really does, to say no, to be firm, to say that they can talk about it when she comes back to school, but she really needs to take some of her own time right now. but something about the way azzi’s voice cracked when she said need had paige looking up quick flights.

she found nothing.

“paige?” azzi breathes, the line having gone silent.

“i’m so sorry, az. there’s no flights. not one damn plane can take me to you.”

she swears she can hear azzi’s face drop, and then she really does hear the shaking, gulping sobs that break through the speakers.

“no, sweetheart, please don’t cry. ill drive, i’ll be there tomorrow when you wake up, i swear up and down, baby, please don’t cry you’re breaking my heart,” paige grovels. she really doesn’t know how to refuse azzi, and when she’s crying, she doesn’t even think it’s possible.

“paigey, please, please, please,” azzi whispers, saying please like it’s a mantra, like it’s keeping her warm.

“yeah, baby, i’ve got you, just try and sleep. i’ll be there as quick as i can.

paige rushes around her room, mumbling affirmations to azzi as she collects things in a duffel, then locks her door and walks to her car. she hears azzi’s deep, stuttering breath that tells her she’s cried herself right to sleep.

…

the bed dips, making azzi snuffle and crack her eyes open. she glimpses a tired, tear-stained paige running her hand over her face. she then feels strong arms wrap around her, welcoming the protective feeling of someone near her as she falls back asleep.

…

paige holds azzi tightly, but her own eyes stay wide open. she cried silently nearly the entirety of her drive down here, thinking about how in a month or two, this fight will be back again, and they’ll do the same thing. sometimes, paige is the one begging for azzi to come and hold her. sometimes its azzi. same problem, because they’re connected, no matter how wrong it may seem, no matter how much they hurt each other, they’ll always be essential, the way you have to feel pain to gain something, and the way you have to boil noodles to soften them.

…

paige’s eyes flicker open, tasting azzi’s lips against her own.

“merry christmas, paige”

“i love you, azzi”

~ hope you enjoyed!

have a happy holiday!

#mutuals💀#paige bueckers #i love you sisterwifey forever <3 #remus lupin reference #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi #anons😗#merry christmas please don’t call

206 notes · View notes

teapartyprincess4two · 10 months ago

Note

Can you make a Latina reader x Matt sturniolo smut? You can make it up how you want it

Lipstick- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Thick!Latina!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, smut

inspiration: request^^

translations: embedded within the story!

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of Spanish, Hispanic/ Latino culture mentioned, established relationship, slight cursing, traditional parents, mentions of alcohol, didn’t name any of the side characters, long

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

—

Matt sits in the living room, nervous hands playing with the keys that hang from his belt loop. Your mother keeps him company, sitting on the sofa across from him as she asks him a plethora of personal and uncomfortable questions. Latina mothers are unashamed to prod into the personal life of others, especially when meeting their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

You’ve only been dating Matt for a couple of months, and although he seems like a nice kid, she’s not entirely sure she can trust your judgment just yet. The few boys you’ve brought home before haven’t always necessarily met her high standards. Matt hasn’t done anything to throw her off yet, but she’s sure she’ll find something to dislike. If he manages to stick around long enough, though, he’d surely grow on her.

“So what do you do for work?” your mom asks, momentarily looking up from her latest costura project to catch Matt’s anxious gaze. She expertly weaves the string in and out of the white lace, forming an intricate floral design in the process.

[translation: costura- sewing]

“Oh um… my brothers and I we make YouTube videos,” Matt doesn’t know where to look, he’s afraid to make eye contact but also afraid that if he doesn’t it’ll come off as disrespectful. He’s never been so nervous in his life, and from the look on your mother’s face he can tell that that’s probably not what she wanted to hear.

Your mother scoffs, obviously unimpressed with his answer. “Esta niña, siempre saliendo con los más huevones,” she turns her head towards the stairs. Matt’s been waiting for you to descend for over 30 minutes, and the awkward tension was even becoming too much for her.

[translation: “This girl, always going out with the laziest ones.”]

Matt coughs, taking a quick swig of the water bottle in front of him. He’s nervous, his hands are clammy and he has no idea what your mom just said. What was taking you so long?

“So is YouTube gonna pay the bills?” your mom was abrasive and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. In her eyes, nobody was worthy enough of her babygirl. Matt remains silent, he doesn’t even know what to say, so she continues, “You know, when you two start having kids.”

The thought of having children at 20 years old terrifies Matt beyond belief, he can feel his hands getting clammier by the second. He understands that it’s a cultural dissonance, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re not planning on any kids soon, ma’am. We haven’t— Um, we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice trembles slightly, your mom was doing a good job of intimidating him.

Matt takes another swig of his water, his mouth was dry and he felt like his throat was closing up. “Oh, but you’re having sex with my daughter right?” the question is so unapologetically bold that it causes Matt to choke on the liquid, some of it managing to dribble down his chin.

“I’m sorry?” he chokes out, but he heard your mom loud and clear.

Finally, as if on queue, Matt hears footsteps coming down the steps. ‘Finally!’ he thinks, watching as your curvy figure rounds the staircase and enters the living room. Matt shoots up from his spot on the couch, his eyes immediately dancing over your entire body.

You’re wearing a fitted, black bodycon dress that reaches just above your knees. The spaghetti straps work to hold your bust in place, a gold necklace dangling delicately above the curves of your breasts. You push your freshly curled hair onto your shoulders, luscious locks framing your face perfectly. White lace-up sneakers adorn your feet, your ankle bracelet glimmering as you walk into the living room.

Matt can’t keep his eyes off of, every aspect of your being pulling him in and putting him in a trance. Your mom notices Matt’s inability to hide his attraction for you, “her eyes are up here!” His face goes beet red, eyes immediately darting up to your face.

You roll your eyes before sending Matt an apologetic smile, “Ya nos vamos, Ma.”

[translation: “We’re leaving, Ma.”]

“Bueno, mi niña. Pórtate bien,” she warns, bringing you in for a strong, warm embrace. Your mom’s change in behavior is so quick it gives Matt whiplash, but he can’t blame her for being standoffish with him. He understands that it’s her mother bear nature.

[translation: “Okay, babygirl. Be good.”]

You kiss your mom on the cheek, your red lipstick staining her face. You turn to Matt with a big, toothy smile sprawled onto your face. “You ready?” you ask, taking his hand in yours as you guide him outside. He nods and hums in response, squeezing your hand as he trails behind you in a lovesick daze. Your ass jiggles with each step and Matt wonders how he ever got so lucky.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize once you’re in the car, getting situated in the passenger seat. “No problem. You look really beautiful,” he replies, starting the car and doing another once over on your body. You lean over the center console with puckered lips, “kiss?” He happily obliges, your red lipstick instantly transferring onto him. His pants are becoming tighter by the second and you notice it right away. Your relationship is still in its infancy, so even this has you blushing.

“Was my mom nice?”

“Mm yeah, some like that,” he replies with a chuckle, adjusting his pants and beginning the drive to your destination. You know he’s lying, but you’re grateful that he’s courteous enough to put up with your mom’s attitude.

“Just wait till you meet my dad and my siblings. They’re not as bad,” you say, the hum of the car engine and the low music in the background creating a calm atmosphere.

“Can’t wait,” he laughs, and although he’s nervous for when that day finally comes, he’s actually excited to become a constant presence in your life. It might be too early to say it, but he’s definitely falling in love with you, the tent in his pants making it obvious as ever.

—

A year has passed since that day and, as expected, your mom has warmed up to Matt. They aren’t super close yet, but she definitely sees him in a different light. She can tell that he truly cares for you and that what you two share is real, but the real test comes when Matt meets your dad.

Your dad works a lot, the manual labor taking a toll on his body that puts him to sleep as soon as he gets home. So, even if your dad is home when Matt’s around, he’s usually asleep or resting in his room.

Matt was nervous when he met your mom, but he’s TERRIFIED to meet your dad. There are so many factors to take into consideration; the language barrier, the cultural dissonance, the fact that he’s your literal dad! It doesn’t help that your siblings are gonna be there too, all of it makes Matt tremble with unease. But he’s been invited to your family’s cookout so he can no longer postpone it.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, it’s not too cold or too hot. It’s the perfect day for a cookout, and Matt should feel excited, but he doesn’t. Sweaty hands grip the steering wheel as he anxiously drives to your house. Chris and Nick are being dragged along as moral support, but unlike Matt, they’re not nervous.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you guys. I don’t even think they know I’m a triplet,” Matt’s words are coming out a mile a minute as he places the car in park outside your house. The panic is starting to set, and from the looks of it they’re the first ones here. Usually being on time would make Matt proud, but this just means there will be less people to hide behind.

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Plus, maybe Y/n has a cute cousin or something and we can be like brother in laws,” Chris is only half-joking. “Gross,” Nick grimaces, hopping off the car and beginning the short walk to your front door. Chris laughs, copying Nick’s actions and following closely behind.

That just leaves Matt. He’s glued to the front seat, mind racing uncontrollably. If he’s going to do this, it needs to be quick and painless or he’ll just psych himself out. He takes one deep breath in and out, unbuckling himself with such fervor that the seatbelt slaps the door. Once he steps out of the car, he takes a second to anchor himself before jogging to catch up to his brothers, who are already ringing your doorbell.

Three minutes pass and no one has opened the door, so Nick rings the doorbell again. “Allí voy, allí voy!” a voice shouts from inside, the door swinging open aggressively to reveal your little sister.

[translation: “I’m going, I’m going!”]

“Oh it’s just you,” she deadpans, moving aside so they can walk in. She slams the door shut, pushing past the stunned trio until she’s at the foot of the stairs. “Y/n’s upstairs,” she says, waving towards the staircase haphazardly.

“Y/N! YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!” she shouts up the stairs, the loud outburst taking the triplets by surprise.

Your sister is a good 4 years younger and the complete opposite of you. She’s a thin tomboy, wearing an outfit so oversized that she’s drowning in fabric. Her style directly resembles Chris’s, chunky sneakers adorning her feet and a backwards hat resting atop her long, curly hair. A long gold chain that she stole from your older brother hangs from her neck, swaying back and forth as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her makeup is nicely done and her glossy lips are resting in a smirk, she loved embarrassing you.

“Stop yelling, pendeja!” you shout back, head peering from your doorway. Your sister shoots you an unbothered shrug, turning on her heels and disappearing into the backyard. You descend the stairs, immediately hugging Matt and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Within seconds his lips are the same color as yours, your cherry lipgloss tasting all too familiar.

[translation: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)]

“You guys are early,” you chuckle, pulling away from Matt to greet the other two. “You can blame Matt for that,” Nick says, the four of you walking outside to the backyard patio. The setup is simple but nice, rows of foldable chairs and tables lining the grassy lawn. Coolers are up against the walls of the house, each one filled to the brim with soda, juice pouches, and alcohol.

As Matt is surveying the area, he sees your dad, or at least he thinks he does. A tall, muscular man is working the grill. His shiny, bald head reflects the sun and his tattoos are on full display past the sleeves of his ribbed cotton tank top.

Matt grabs your hand, pulling you back slightly, “Is that your dad?” His voice is hushed, afraid to be heard accidentally.

You follow his gaze, “What? No. That’s my brother.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes Matt, and you instantly clock it, “Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s gonna love you.” The reassuring words momentarily calm his nerves.

Your older brother’s boisterous voice breaks the moment, “Y/n, go get the rest of the carne from the kitchen!” He’s pinching carne asada, elote, and cebolla off of the grill with long metal tongs, stacking it neatly on a metal tray.

[translation: carne- meat, carne asada- grilled meat, elote- corn, cebolla- onion]

Chris is the first to approach your brother, his friendly nature making it easy for him to talk to new people,“Dude, that smells good!”

Your brother is very kind, his scary appearance completely juxtaposing his hospitable personality. He’s wearing baggy jean shorts and black air forces with a matching gold chain and bracelet. The black sunglasses that rest on his face make him look unapproachable, but the warm smile he offers Nick and Chris makes up for it.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you quickly peck Matt’s cheek, once again staining his face with your lipstick. Matt hums in response, joining the rest of the men around the grill.

“I feel like I’m seeing triple. I didn’t even know there was three of y’all,” your brother jokes, offering them each a firm handshake. Even though they’ve heard the joke millions of times before the triplets laugh.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Nick laughs.

“Bet you do. Which of you is dating my sister, though?” your brother asks, but he knows the answer; the red kiss on Matt’s cheek is a dead giveaway.

“That would be this lucky guy,” Nick replies, shaking Matt’s shoulders playfully. Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red and he can’t stop himself from smiling, he truly was lucky. “If the red lipstick on his face doesn’t tell you, then his smile surely will,” Chris chimes in, his finger smudging the makeup on Matt’s face.

Your brother laughs, “Yeah you might wanna wipe that off before el jefe gets back.”

[translation: el jefe- the boss (masculine, a nickname commonly used when referencing one’s father)]

“Oh shit,” Matt mutters, scrambling for a nearby napkin and rubbing it along his face feverishly.

—

An hour has passed and no one else has arrived yet, I guess the triplets didn’t get the memo that Hispanics are almost always fashionably late. Your brother is still working the grill, immersed in an entertaining conversation with Nick about God knows what. Chris, on the other hand, is playing soccer with your sister. He keeps either kicking the ball over the fence or missing it completely, his clumsy actions make your sister laugh uncontrollably.

You sit with Matt at one of the many tables, hands intertwined as you both anxiously await your parents arrival. “He should be back by now,” you mumble, a restless leg bouncing up and down. You knew Matt would make a good first impression on your dad, but you were still nervous.

It’s almost like you summoned him, the familiar sound of your dad’s pickup truck ringing in your ears as he pulls into the driveway. “Is that him?” Matt asks, grip tightening on your palms. “Yeah that’s him. Don’t be nervous, my dad is nice,” you reply, but you’re equally as anxious.

Your dad’s first words do nothing to help your case, you’re just glad Matt can’t understand them, “Vengan a ayudar, huevones!”

[translation: “Come help, lazies!”]

“Lemme go help, you stay here. Okay?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“Actually yeah, good idea.”

Matt follows you to the front yard, he’s so beyond nervous that his hands are practically dripping with sweat. Your dad senses Matt’s presence immediately, “Y este pinche güey que?”

[translation: “Who’s this fucking guy?”]

“Pa! No seas feo!” you exclaim, but your dad just rolls his eyes and silently instructs you to unload the truck. He bought more alcohol for the party, because when you’re Hispanic you can never have enough.

[translation: “Pa! Don’t be ugly!”]

“Es tu novio o que?” your dad asks, grunting as he picks up two cases of beer. He rests them on his shoulders with ease, he’s so strong that it intimidates Matt. “Yes, dad. He’s my boyfriend,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes.

[translation: “Is he your boyfriend or what?”]

Your dad, much like your brother, is also bald. The greatest differences between the two men are the wrinkles that crease near your dad’s eyes when he smiles, his long bushy beard, and his protruding beer belly. “Nice to meet you,” your dad finally directs his attention towards Matt, offering him a genuine smile as his thick accent butchers the words.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Matt replies, picking up a case of alcohol as to make himself useful. Your dad can tell that Matt’s nervous, and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you dating, he decides to take it easy on him. He’s heard stories about Matt from your mom and by the way you look at him, your dad knows he’s the one.

As your dad enters the backyard, absolutely shocked to see Chris and Nick. Never in his life has he met a twin, let alone triplets, “Ay güey! Hay tres? No chingues, creo que me mareé.” Everyone, except for the triplets who have no idea what’s going on, laughs at your dad’s statement.

[translation: “Oh shit! There’s three? Fuck, I think I just got dizzy.”]

“I think he likes you,” you shrug, a sly smile playing on your face. Matt suddenly feels confident, all the nerves washing away.

—

As the hours pass, the party becomes less innocent as everyone becomes more and more inebriated. Matt’s chatting with some of your uncles and cousins, a cold beer resting in his hands. He’s been nursing the same bottle all night, only sipping from it occasionally.

You’re on the opposite end of the lawn, sitting at a table with your chismosa cousin. “Your man is so handsome, prima. If you find another one like that, send him my way.”

[translation: chismosa- gossiper (feminine), prima- cousin (feminine)]

“He does have a brother,” you joke, eyes still trained on Matt. You needed to get him alone in the house, away from prying eyes.

You could think of so many actual reasons you needed him right now, though. First, he was being such a gentleman with your family. He introduced himself and made small talk despite the evident language barrier. Secondly, when you served him a plate, he finished it faster than you’ve ever seen him eat anything. Then, when he got up for seconds, he moaned as the delicious flavors melted in his mouth.

Everyone loved him, and for whatever reason that turned you on. The longer you looked at him, the wetter you became. You’re clenching your thighs together, the sheer thought of him making you squirm. Before you know it, you’re excusing yourself from your cousin and walking up to Matt with a random excuse as to why you need him inside.

“Hey is everything okay?” Matt whispers, hands resting on your hips. His head is crooked down towards you, lips capturing yours briefly before resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, just missed you,” your breathy words fan his lips as you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and travel them down his neck.

Although he welcomes the feeling, you’re both standing in the kitchen and if anyone were to walk in they’d catch the intimate moment. That’s the last thing he wanted, especially not after making a good first impression, “not here, baby.”

You pout, completely retracting yourself from Matt, “okay.”

“No, wait. I said not here,” he pulls you back in as he looks around the house in search of another secluded area, not wanting to completely abandon your touch.

“Then where?” your voice is sultry and inviting.

“Outside?” it’s the first thing that comes to Matt’s mind, and the suggestion breaks you from the mood.

“Outside, Matt? Really? Like what, like a dog?” you have a dumbfounded look on your face, almost like you can’t believe he even suggested it.

“No, like, in my car,” he dangles the keys in front of your face before pulling you back in for a heated kiss.

The kiss seems to convince you because he’s successfully leading you to his car. The street is dark, only illuminated by a few street lamps, but you find it with ease.

You fumble into the backseat, Matt following behind you giddily. “We have to be quick, okay?” you whisper, pulling Matt in for another kiss by the collar.

“You know I like taking my time with my girl,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, a playful scoff falling from your lips. You scoot further into the back seat, making room for Matt as he situates himself between your legs.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he brushes a stray curl away from your face, a gentle hand caressing your cheek. “Hmm yes, but I could hear it again,” you turn your face, kissing his palm.

“You look beautiful today,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. You mould into each other, your lips fitting perfectly against his. Matt grinds himself down on you, momentarily breaking from you long enough for you to feather kisses along his neck.

With each kiss comes an affirmation, “I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” It’s too dark to see, but you’re leaving lipstick marks all over him. The praises send blood rushing to his dick as you continue, “You did so good, papi. Just like I knew you would.”

[translation: papi- daddy (bear with me ppl)]

“Yeah? How good?” he eggs you on, relishing in all your sweet words. His hands push your dress up, the fabric scrunching up around your hips to reveal the red lace panties you wore underneath. Matt swears he’s in heaven.

“You did perfect…” your words trail off as you watch Matt remove your underwear in a daze. “How about you show me how good I did?” he grabs your waist, flipping you both over so you’re on top. You let out an excited squeal, your bare cunt coming in contact with his rough denim jeans. His dick is straining against the fabric, begging for release.

You grind onto his clothed penis, one hand resting on his chest as the other pushes your hair out of your face. Matt’s hands instinctively find your hips, a firm grip guiding your swiveling motions.

“Tell me how you want me, baby.”

“Ride me?”

As soon as he says it, you’re wiggling down onto his thighs and unbuckling his pants. Your fingers dance along his erection, teasingly tracing it. Matt bites his lip at the sight, “Please don’t tease.”

“So polite,” you giggle, finally tugging his pants down. His dick slaps against his stomach, the swollen tip already dripping with precum. Your thumb runs across the tip, spreading the lubrication along his shaft.

Matt’s a whimpering mess, propped onto his elbows to get a better view of you. When his hips subconsciously buck into your hand you decide to stop teasing and situate yourself above his crotch, dragging his penis along your wet folds before positioning it right at your entrance.

You’re going so slow, too slow, so Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing you down onto his dick with force. “Matt!” you gasp, the delicious stretch sending you into overdrive.

He doesn’t respond, instead he pushes and pulls your hips so that you’re bouncing on his cock. Your breasts are jiggling rhythmically, threatening to spill out of your dress. Animalistic grunts fill the car as Matt watches your pussy wrap around him, his jaw is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure. Your soft whimpers and moans motivate him to keep going.

“You like that?” The car is rocking with the intensity of your movements, windows becoming foggier and foggier with each breathy moan that escapes your lips.

“Yes!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky, the pleasure choking you up. “Use your words, pretty girl,” he grunts, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure approaching.

“It’s so good, papi. So, so, so good,” you babble, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. Your pussy is fluttering around him, the sensation bringing Matt closer to his breaking point.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers, large hands squeezing the skin around your hips so hard that it was sure to bruise. You place loving kisses all over his face, especially on his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” you moan, chanting his name again and again right after. He’s thrusting up into you feverishly, his pace faltering slightly as you both near your climax. “I love you too, princess. So much,” his voice is strained, strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding you in place as he shoots his warm load into you. His affirmations send you into a state of euphoria as your orgasm washes over you.

He’s peppering kissing all over your chest, whimpers escaping his lips as he comes down from his high. You delicately push his hair off of his sweaty forehead, admiring him as he continues his gentle attack on your chest.

“We should probably get back, babe. They’ll be wondering where we are,” you whisper, but he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this with you forever.

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he murmurs, hooded eyes finally looking up at you. Your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. “Aww baby, your lipstick is all messed up. You look so cute,” he laughs, attempting to wipe some it off but failing.

He shifts slightly, the streetlights briefly managing to illuminate his handsome face. Your kiss marks are all over, a clear visual representation of how much you love him.

“You’re wearing more of it than I am,” you joke, earning yourself a playful slap on the ass.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: clearly I couldn’t just write a smut right? Lmaoooo idk I had all the characters in my brain & it couldn’t just be smut 😭 hope u enjoy

This is so different from anything I’ve written before so lmk how yall like it & if you enjoy having Spanish in stories w/ the translations in the story💃🏻 also don’t kill me for using papi, i’d gladly call my man papi any day 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

672 notes · View notes

visenyaism · 4 months ago

Text

HOTD blog post GRRM posted and almost immediately deleted under the cut for archival purposes

Beware the Butterflies

SEPTEMBER 4, 2024

Profile Pic

Back in July, I promised you some further thoughts about Blood and Cheese… and Maelor the Missing… after my commentary on the first two episodes of HotD season 2, “A Son for a Son” and “Rhaenyra the Cruel.”

Those were terrific episodes: well written, well directed, powerfully acted. A great way to kick off the new season. Fans and critics alike seemed to agree. There was only one aspect of the episodes that drew significant criticism: the handling of Blood and Cheese, and the death of Prince Jaehaerys. From the commentary I saw on line, opinion was split there. The readers of FIRE & BLOOD found the sequence underwhelming, a disappointment, watered down from what they were expecting. Viewers who had not read the book had no such problems. Most of them found the sequence a real gut-punch, tragic, horrifying, nightmarish, etc. Some reported being reduced to tears.

I found myself agreeing with both sides.

In my book, Aegon and Helaena have three children, not two. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are six years old. They have a younger brother, Maelor, who is two. When Blood and Cheese break in on Helaena and the kids, they tell her they are debt collectors come to exact revenge for the death of Prince Lucerys: a son for a son. As Helaena has two sons, however, they demand that she choose which one should die. She resists and offers her own life instead, but the killers insist it has to be a son. If she does not name one, they will kill all three of the children. To save the life of the twins, Helaena names Maelor. But Blood kills the older boy, Jaehaerys, instead, while Cheese tells little Maelor that his mother wanted him dead. (Whether the boy is old enough to understand that is not at all certain).

That’s not how it happens on the show. There is no Maelor in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, only the twins (both of whom look younger than six, but I am no sure judge of children’s ages, so I can’t be sure how old they are supposed to be). Blood can’t seem to tell the twins apart, so Helaena is asked to reveal which one is the boy. (You would think a glance up his PJs would reveal that, without involving the mother). Instead of offering her own life to save the kids, Helaena offers them a necklace. Blood and Cheese are not tempted. Blood saws Prince Jaehaerys’s head off. We are spared the sight of that; a sound effect suffices. (In the book, he lops the head off with a sword).

It is a bloody, brutal scene, no doubt. How not? An innocent child is being butchered in front of his mother.

I still believe the scene in the book is stronger. The readers have the right of that. The two killers are crueler in the book. I thought the actors who played the killers on the show were excellent… but the characters are crueler, harder, and more frightening in FIRE & BLOOD. In the show, Blood is a gold cloak. In the book, he is a former gold cloak, stripped of his office for beating a woman to death. Book Blood is the sort of man who might think making a woman choose which of her sons should die is amusing, especially when they double down on the wanton cruelty by murdering the boy she tries to save. Book Cheese is worse too; he does not kick a dog, true, but he does not have a dog, and he’s the one who tells Maelor that his mom wants him head. I would also suggest that Helaena shows more courage, more strength in the book, by offering her own own life to save her son. Offering a piece of jewelry is just not the same.

As I saw it, the “Sophie’s Choice” aspect was the strongest part of the sequence, the darkest, the most visceral. I hated to lose that. And judging from the comments on line, most of the fans seemed to agree.

When Ryan Condal first told me what he meant to do, ages ago (back in 2022, might be) I argued against it, for all these reasons. I did not argue long, or with much heat, however. The change weakened the sequence, I felt, but only a bit. And Ryan had what seemed to be practical reasons for it; they did not want to deal with casting another child, especially a two-year old toddler. Kids that young will inevitably slow down production, and there would be budget implications. Budget was already an issue on HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, it made sense to save money wherever we could. Moreover, Ryan assured me that we were not losing Prince Maelor, simply postponing him. Queen Helaena could still give birth to him in season three, presumably after getting with child late in season two. That made sense to me, so I withdrew my objections and acquiesced to the change.

I still love the episode, and the Blood and Cheese sequence overall. Losing the “Helaena’s Choice” beat did weaken the scene, but not to any great degree. Only the book readers would even notice its absence; viewers who had never read FIRE & BLOOD would still find the scenes heart-rending. Maelor did not actually DO anything in the scene, after all. How could he? He was only two years old.

There is another aspect to the removal of the young princeling, however.

Those of you who hate spoilers should STOP READING HERE. Spoilers will follow, at least for the readers among you. If you have never read FIRE & BLOOD, maybe it does not matter, because all I am going to “spoil” here are things that happen in the book that may NEVER happen on the series. Starting with Maelor himself.

Sometime between the initial decision to remove Maelor, a big change was made. The prince’s birth was no longer just going to be pushed back to season 3. He was never going to be born at all. The younger son of Aegon and Helaena would never appear.

Most of you know about the Butterfly Effect, I assume.

Yes, there was a movie with that title a few years back. It’s a familiar concept in chaos theory as well. But most science fiction fans were first exposed to the idea in Ray Bradbury’s classic time travel story, “A Sound of Thunder,” wherein a time traveler from the present panics and crushes a butterfly while hunting a T-Rex. When he returns to his own time, he discovers that the world has changed in huge and frightening ways. One dead butterfly has rewritten history. The lesson being that change begets change, and even small and seemingly insignificant alterations to a timeline — or a story — can have a profound effect on all that follows.

Maelor is a two year old toddler in FIRE & BLOOD, but like our butterfly he has an impact on the story all out of proportion to his size. The readers among you may recall that when it appears that Rhaenyra and her blacks are about to capture King’s Landing, Queen Alicent becomes concerned for the safety of Helaena’s remaining children, and takes steps to save them by smuggling them out of the city. The task is given is two knights of the Kingsguard. Ser Willis Fell is commanded to deliver Princess Jaehaera to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, while Maelor is given over to Ser Rickard Thorne to be escorted across the Mander to the protection of the Hightower army on its way to King’s Landing.

Willis Fell delivers Jaehaera safely to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, but Ser Rickard fares less well. He and Maelor get as far as Bitterbridge, where he is revealed as a Kingsuard in a tavern called the Hogs Head. Once discovered, Ser Rickard fights bravely to protect his young charge and bring him to safety, but he does not even make it across the bridge before some crossbows bring him down, Prince Maelor is torn from his arms.. and then, sadly, ripped to pieces by the mob fighting over the boy and the huge reward that Rhaenyra has offered for his capture and return.

Will any of that appear on the show? Maybe… but I don’t see how. The butterflies would seem to prohibit it. You could perhaps make Ser Rickard’s ward be Jaehaera instead of Maelor, but Jaehaera can’t be killed, she has a huge role to play as Aegon’s next heir. Could maybe make Maelor a newborn instead of a two year old, but that would scramble up the timeline, which is a bit of a mess already. I have no idea what Ryan has planned — if indeed he has planned anything — but given Maelor’s absence from episode 2, the simplest way to proceed would be just to drop him entirely, lose the bit where Alicent tries to send the kids to safety, drop Rickard Thorne or send him with Willis Fell so Jaehaera has two guards.

From what I know, that seems to be what Ryan is doing here. It’s simplest, yes, and may make sense in terms of budgets and shooting schedules. But simpler is not better. The Bitterbridge scene has tension, suspense, action, bloodshed, a bit of heroism and a lot of tragedy. Rickard Thorne is a tertiary character at best, most viewers (as opposed to readers) will never know he is gone, since they never knew him at all… but I rather liked giving him his brief moment of heroism, a taste of the courage and loyalty of the Kingsguard, regardless of whether they are black or green.

The butterflies are not done with us yet, however. In the book, when word of Prince Maelor’s death and the grisly manner of his passing (pp. 505) reaches the Red Keep, that proves to be the thing that drives Queen Helaena to suicide. She could barely stand to look at Maelor, knowing that she chose him to die in the “Sophie’s Choice” scene… and now he is dead in truth, her words having come true. The grief and guilt are too much for her to bear.

In Ryan’s outline for season 3, Helaena still kills herself… for no particular reason. There is no fresh horror, no triggering event to overwhelm the fragile young queen.

And the final butterfly follows soon thereafter.

Queen Helaena, a sweet and gentle soul, is much beloved by the smallfolk of King’s Landing. Rhaenyra was not, so when rumors began to arise that Helaena did not kill herself, but rather was murdered at Rhaenyra’s command, the commons are quick to believe them. “That night King’s Landing rose in bloody riot,” I wrote on p. 506 of FIRE & BLOOD. It is the beginning of the end for Rhaenyra’s rule over the city, ultimately leading to the Storming of the Dragonpit and the rise of the Shepherd’s mob that drives Rhaenyra to flee the city and return to Dragonstone… and her death.

Maelor by himself means little. He is a small child, does not have a line of dialogue, does nothing of consequence but die… but where and when and how, that does matter. Losing Maelor weakened the end of the Blood and Cheese sequence, but it also cost us the Bitterbridge scene with all its horror and heroism, it undercut the motivation for Helaena’s suicide, and that in turn sent thousands into the streets and alleys, screaming for justice for their “murdered” queen. None of that is essential, I suppose… but all of it does serve a purpose, it all helps to tie the story lines together, so one thing follows another in a logical and convincing manner.

What will we offer the fans instead, once we’ve killed these butterflies? I have no idea. I do not recall that Ryan and I ever discussed this, back when he first told me they were pushing back on Aegon’s second son. Maelor himself is not essential… but if losing him means we also lose Bitterbridge, Helaena’s suicide, and the riots, well… that’s a considerable loss.

And there are larger and more toxic butterflies to come, if HOUSE OF THE DRAGON goes ahead with some of the changes being contemplated for seasons 3 and 4…

GRRM

#they got him.#asoiaf #hotd #can’t post abt maelor anymore. because of woke

229 notes · View notes

wizard-on-whales · 4 months ago

Text

Naughty Girl

(NSFW)

Attending a Metallica concert was a dream of yours and lucky for you, your mom had gotten you tickets as a college graduation gift, what you didn't expect was to get a gift from none other than James hetfield himself

Warnings: Age gap, smut, blowjob, pet names, lots of dirty talk, size kink, I think something possessed me when I wrote this

Word count: 3k

✭-----------------------------✭

This was for sure the most excited you had ever been over anything. Metallica had been your all time favorite band since you were a kid and now you were on the way to one of their concerts, and you had pit tickets on top of that. You patiently waited in line for hours just for a chance to get rail and somehow you did and it was right in front of James spot. You clung to that thing like your life depended on it. Your friend was next to you, just as ecstatic as she had been obsessed with them for years too. The only difference was she loved Kirk, you loved James. You watched Chad as he pulled out James guitars, tuning it up just as the iconic AC/DC song started blasting through the stadium. Your heart started racing in excitement, knowing the concert was minutes away from starting.

Cheers from the crowd picked up, hands flying over the railing and all around you as James makes his appearance, walking up to his station. You held your hand out, desperate for just one touch. His cigar hung from his lips, a necklace fastened around his neck which was proudly exposed by a halfway unbuttoned shirt. His eyes flicked towards yours, his mouth curling to a smile as he grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. You couldn't hold back the scream that escaped from your lips, causing him to laugh before moving onto the next person. He stopped his greetings, sitting down in his chair while The Ecstasy of Gold played. He took a sip of his drink, taking one last drag of his cigar before taking his Flying V from Chad and sprinting up the stairs of the stage, the first notes of Creeping Death blaring through the stadium.

The concert really was the greatest night of your life, each song they played somehow better than the last. The sound of James' voice ringing through your ears in person was better than you had ever imagined. And just as he got off of the stage for the night his eyes connected with yours again and he grabbed your hand, sliding his soaking wet sweatband onto your arm. He gave you a wink before walking off, leaving you a mess of screams and tears.

You and your friend walked through the city and back to your hotel room, the excitement from the concert still buzzing through you. She goes up to the room before you, leaving you in the lobby as you stare at the small concession stand, hungry for a snack. James' arm band was clinging to your arm, still damp with his sweat. You look down at it, a smile crossing your face as you fiddle with the black fabric. You look back at the snacks, reaching for the last snickers bar but a tattooed hand grabs it before you could. You freeze, instantly recognizing the knuckle tattoos and the “Papa Het” plastered on the hand. You look to your side and see him standing there in all his glory. You were sure your face was bright red as you froze in place, staring at him in disbelief.

“Did you enjoy the concert?” He asks casually, ripping the candy wrapper open and splitting it in half, offering you part of it.

“Yeah..it was great,” You squeak out, still unable to move. A smirk crossed his face, his eyes flickering up and down your appearance before he waves the candy bar in front of your face, trying to get you to take it. You break out of your trance and timidly reach for it, taking it from his fingers. The chocolate had melted a little against his fingers, causing him to suck it off, his eyes not leaving yours.

“How old are you?” He questions, taking a bite of the candy and leaning against the counter. By now he had changed out of his concert attire, settling on a more casual outfit of blue jeans and a Motorhead T-shirt. That didn't stop him from looking any less attractive though, if anything, he looked even sexier. His silver hair and tattoos shone brightly against the tight, black fabric of his shirt.

“I'm 22,” You say shyly, looking down at the chocolate in your own hand before taking a bite of it. A strand of the caramel drips from it, dripping down your chin. You wipe it off with your finger, licking it off, trying to ignore James’ intense gaze.

“You're just a baby,” He chuckles, glancing away from you to the floor. You could tell he was debating with himself in his head. You wondered for a second what it could be, your mind going to a dirty place but you try to shake it off. He was older now, you assumed groupies were a thing in the past for him.

“Yeah…I guess so…but I've always been told I'm mature for my age,” You reply to his comment. He glanced back up at you, checking you out again but not so subtly this time. He pushes himself away from the counter and takes a step closer to you. It's only then do you smell him for the first time, his natural musk and cologne made it hard for you to hold yourself back. All you wanted to do was leap on the man and fuck him right there.

“This your hotel?” He questions, popping the last bit of the chocolate into his mouth.

“Yeah, I'm staying here with my friend.” Your heart races In your chest, your palms sweaty as he steps even closer. You could feel the heat radiating from him at this point. His eyes look intently over your face, trailing down your neck and landing on your breasts. He wasn't shy about his gaze, that's for sure. You felt as if he could see right through your clothes. He grabbed your arm, seeming to study the armband he had stuck on it. His hand grabs yours and brings it up to your mouth, making you eat the last of the chocolate that was melting on it.

“Is your friend waiting for you?” He asks, trailing his finger down your arm, barely grazing the skin, causing goosebumps to rise.

“No…I don't think so,” A smile crosses his face as he loops his arm around your waist and starts leading you towards the elevators. You couldn't tell if you were about to throw up from excitement or nerves as you stood there. The elevator ride was the longest one of your life, his grip firm and calm against your waist. The doors of the elevator dinged open and the two of you stepped out into the quiet and empty hallway. Your legs felt like jelly as he led you right up to his room door, he removed his arm from around you, fishing his room key out of his pocket. He opens the door, gesturing for you to walk in first. You timidly walk past him and into the room, your eyes grazing over it. It was definitely a nice room, the largest hotel room you had ever been in. You walk up to the window, glancing out over the view of the city, slightly amazed at the sight. You felt his front press against your back, both of his hands resting on your hips.

“You ever been in a room this high up?” He asks quietly, his lips brushing against your neck. You couldn't keep your breathing steady as the situation unfolds.

“No, I've never been this high up in general,” You tell him, you feel him smile, placing a kiss against your skin, making you flinch.

“I like being this high up…wanna know why?” He turns your body in his arms, making you face him before he backs you up against the window, pinning you to it. Your heart leapt to your throat, nerves off the charts from your idol being this close and from the height. Only a layer of glass was stopping you from falling several stories to the concrete below.

“Why…” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper. You couldn't stop your eyes from flicking down to his lips, your tongue grazing across yours, wetting them.

“Because if I fuck you against the window…no one will see.” His voice was gruff and seductive as he spoke. He leaned down, his face just inches from yours, his eyes still locked with yours. His gaze flickers down to your lips, a smirk crossing his face again as your arms jerk against his tight grip. He sees your eyes flutter close, your lips parting slightly, he leans forward and presses his face to yours. The heavy taste of his cigars clung to his lips, invading your taste buds. You couldn't help the moan that slips out of you from his touch, making him grip you tighter. He moves one of his hands from your arms and loops it around your waist. His kisses were sloppy and wet but you could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. He pulls away from you, releasing you from his grip and stepping away, causing you to give him a puzzled look.

“Go ahead and strip for me, sweet thing,” Your cheeks burn, not expecting to have made it this far. Slowly you reach for the armband on your wrist to remove it first, the least revealing thing you could.

“Ah…not that. Keep that on,” His scolds, his eyes burning holes through you as he watches your every move. You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, dropping it to the floor next to you. He follows suit, stripping himself of his shirt as well. You bite your lips at the sight of his exposed chest and stomach, his dad bod proudly on display. You unbutton your jeans and push them down, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. Again, he follows, dropping his jeans to expose his boxers, his boner straining against the fabric. He notices your gaze, a smirk covering his face.

“It's been like that all night, baby girl. Since I first saw that sweet face of yours,” His tone was cocky as he spoke, causing the arousal in your stomach to pool further. You unclip your bra, sliding it down your arms and piling it with the rest of your clothes. You were trying to act confident but you felt as if you could fall over at any second, your entire body shaking. You reach for your panties but James' sudden movements make you stop. He steps forward, pressing himself against you for a second before dropping to his knees. The unexpected action causes you to shiver, he looks up at you with a smile as his fingers push under the waistband and pulls them down. He was right in the line of sight of your dripping cunt, his eyes never leaving it as he peels your panties off all the way.

“God look at that pretty little pussy…dripping for me…desperate for an old man's cock, you're a naughty girl you know that,” Every word that spills out of his mouth causes you to ache for him further, a moan slipping from your lips in desperation. He grabs your thigh tightly, kissing your hip bone before rising to his full height again. He grabs your hands, putting them on the hem of his boxers, patiently waiting for you to remove them. You grip them, shakily dropping to your knees the way he did, peeling them down his legs. His cock sprung out, painfully erect and dripping with precum. You swallow heavily, your nerves building further as you take in the sight of him. You had only been with two other men in your life and neither of them were even half his size. James grabs you and firmly pulls you off of the floor, his hands move to grip your ass tightly as he backs you up against the window again. The cold glass sends a chill through you, his gaze causing you to tremble further.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He questions with a whisper, pinning himself to you, his erection pressed against your bare skin. You nod your head, unable to speak but he gives you a “tsk”

“Ah..ah…use your words. Tell me how much you want this old man's dick in you,” You could feel your entire body heat up at the teasing tone dripping from his words.

“Please, James, fuck me…I need you in me so bad,” You felt almost pathetic as the words spill out, your voice more desperate than you had wished. He gives you a cocky grin, leaning down to press an open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. He grabs your breast, his thumb swiping over your nipple before he does the same with it, giving it a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against the glass at the sensation, your body shivering under his touch, practically calling out for more.

“Jump up,” James tells you firmly, his hands gripping your waist tighter. You jump up a little and he helps lift you up enough for you to wrap your legs around his waist. You tightly grip his shoulders as he presses you further against the glass.

“You sure you're not too old to do this?” you question him, a small amount of genuine concern but also wanting to tease him. He gives you an annoyed look, his features darkening as he leans his face closer to yours.

“Ooh..you're gonna get it now, baby,” He grunts before lining himself up and immediately plunging himself deep into you. You let out a high pitched squeak, the sensation and the pain from him stretching you overbearing. You could feel every bit of him throbbing against your walls.

“You're gonna take it like a good girl aren't you?” James growls in your ear, his words more of a demand than a question as he snaps his hips again, drawing another loud noise from you. The pain between your legs was almost unbearable but it felt good…so good. You could feel just how wet you were getting, it was practically dripping down the both of you as his movement picked up. You held on to his shoulders like your life depended on it as he pounded into you, your moans spilling out louder than ever.

You used to hate groupie, never understanding why they would do such a thing but as he fucks you against the window you finally understood. The feeling of him was addicting, a slight power boost surging through you as you think about the fact that he chose you.

“ah…fuck James,” You cry out, brain going blank under his touch. You wanted to bite your lip or bury your face against him to keep yourself quiet, the noises spilling out of you were almost embarrassing. James clearly enjoyed them as he watched your every move, an arrogant smile plastered on his face as he continued to hammer his hips against yours. Your legs tighten around his waist, your body quivering as your orgasm hits you hard, you practically scream his name, grabbing at him as if you were drowning. His movements come to a stop as he pulls out of you, gently letting your legs fall to the floor. He holds your trembling body up with his as he leans down to your ear, nipping at it again.

“Get on your knees, I want you to taste yourself on me,” He murmurs against your neck, slowly lowering your weak legs to the floor in front of him. You could still hardly think as you sit against the cold ground, shivering. James' large hand grabs a fist full of your hair, making a makeshift ponytail as he urges your head forward.

“Open wide, babygirl, I wanna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours,” you rest one of your shaking hands on his thighs, looking up at him as you open your mouth, taking him in it. He lets out a groan at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his swollen head. You push him further into your mouth, his large size already causing tears to prick at your eyes. You gag a little, trying to breath through your nose and stay calm as you suck him off, keeping your gaze locked with his. The feeling of your throat muscles contracting around his girth makes him let out another drawn out groan.

“You're such a dirty girl you know that…fuck…I don't even know your name sweetheart…just-oh- just gonna call you a naughty girl,” His words only encourage you, you bring your hand up, massaging his balls lightly as your tongue continues to taste him. You could feel his dick throbbing and twitching, his dirty talk getting replaced by strangled moans. You bob your head against him a few more times, tears rolling down your cheeks right as he busts his load against the back of your throat, causing you to gag again. He pulls your head back harsly, not wanting to cum in your mouth any longer but wanting to watch it drip down your face and breasts. With his other hand he jerks himself off a little more, pulling every last bit he had out of him and onto you. He keeps his gaze locked with yours the whole time, his stare and actions heating up your entire body.

As you sat there you were sure he had ruined you for any other man, nothing could ever come close to this night. He lets go of his heavy grip on his cock and brings his fingers to your body, watching it smear his cum over your skin. He scrapes a small amount up with his two middle fingers before shoving them into your mouth. You let out a small moan as you grab his wrist with both hands, keeping it in place as you suck his semen off of his tattooed fingers. Another smirk crossed his face as he watched you. He slowly lets go of his grip on your hair and pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“Let's get you cleaned up sweet thing,” His words and gaze were soft, a stark contrast to just seconds prior. He disappears for a second before returning with a warm, wet washcloth. He gets down on his knees in front of where he had left you on the floor. He gently wipes his filth off of your face and breasts.

“You got your phone on you?” He questions as he finishes wiping you off. He tosses the washcloth to the floor next to you, grabbing your chin lightly as he speaks.

“It's in one of my pockets,” You speak quietly, your voice rough from your loud moaning and his dick against your throat. He nods his head, reaching over to your pile of clothes and digging through it for your phone. He hands it to you before speaking again.

“Tell your friend you're not gonna make it back to your room tonight.”

✭-----------------------------✭

#james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield #jaymzhetfield #papahet #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #metallica

187 notes · View notes

batmanlovesnirvana · 3 months ago

Text

Martinez is the ultimate Wayne family fanboy, and it all started because his mom was totally obsessed with Thomas and Martha Wayne. In her eyes, they were like Gotham's own JFK and Jackie O—super glamorous, beloved by everyone, and surrounded by all that tabloid drama.

And, of course, Martha Wayne? Basically Gotham's Princess Diana, but with a husband who was actually supportive and a pearl necklace that cost more than your average Gotham salary. Naturally, Martinez grew up with this deep respect and borderline idolization of the Wayne family legacy.

So while other kids were memorizing sports stats, Martinez was that kid casually dropping facts like, "Did you know Martha Wayne wore a custom Dior gown to the '96 charity gala?" He was all about that Wayne trivia, and since Martha Wayne had this whole Lady Di vibe going on—graceful, charitable, and loved by everyone (with none of the messy relationship drama)—it cemented this untouchable image of the Waynes in Martinez's mind.

And don’t even get him started on Bruce Wayne… We all saw in the movie that Martinez has a soft spot for the guy, but Bruce Wayne’s fans in general? They’re like Frank Ocean stans. The second someone snaps a blurry pic of Bruce outside Wayne Tower or at some mandatory charity event, Martinez and the rest of his fans are like, “Omg, he’s still alive!” Cue the virtual fanfare and collective relief like it’s some kind of holiday. They’re basically throwing parties because their reclusive, tragic & mysterious billionaire is still physically breathing.

Side note though: not everyone in Gotham was obsessed with the Waynes before Thomas and Martha. It was really those two who elevated the family name to "golden" status, making the Wayne legacy something everyone looks up to.

#battinson #gothamite #gotham #bruce wayne #batman #the batman #the batman 2022 #dc comics #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanon #dc movies #bruce wayne x reader #martinez #thomas wayne #martha wayne

164 notes · View notes

reshinless · 2 months ago

Note

YAYYYY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN!! ive been rereading your works while i was waiting :') but anyway. can i please request kinich x reader having their first kiss? you'll probably have a lot of requests rn so don't feel too pressured to do this! just if you're feeling like it :3 love you!

-🌟anonniee

It'll happen within a time range that you don't even remember. If you can reach further back into your mind, it was back when you both were kids.

you and he were running around playing house. obviously.

you were the significant other, and he was the tired husband returning from work. a makeshift suit using leaves, and whatnot around you two, even a scenario you saw from a couple in the restaurant you both visited as reference.

"hello honey, welcome home!" you cheer and hand a leafy plate onto the table. then, you walk up to him and attempt to drag him to the dining table (made of tree logs).

he follows along with you before he acts as if his job is hard (he chose to be a hunter, of course). "my love, work was super hard today. You won't believe what happened." his tone is monotone, but you don't care too much; he is playing along anyway!

you land a kiss onto the surface of his cheek, as it slowly turns red. "okay! tell me while we eat, honey!" "o- ok..." he simply touches the spot you pecked and sit down opposite to you, making up a super cool adventure he had, as you gasp and clap.

wasn't much different to present time, this time you have another family member, or two. "oooh! is that really true mommy?! did daddy really fight in the night warden wars?!" your daughter was shocked, and positively interested in so. "yes, yes, multiple times even." you finish tying her hair, along with a little necklace that spelt her name around her nape.

"love, don't fuel her fixation." your now-husband, kinich, fixes his tie briefly before he frustratedly unties it to redo it without any success 'till to chime in to do so.

'this felt a little familiar' is what he thought, as he feels your lips on his skin once more. ah, that feeling.

"a- alright then, i'll be off, be good for mom okay?" he clears his throat momentarily before composing himself. you and your daughter excitedly wave (mostly your daughter on the enthusiastic part though), as he goes off for work again.

he can't wait to come home once more.

ILYT NONNIE <333

256 notes · View notes

a-tiny-thing · 1 year ago

Text

break in // m.l

burglar!mark x rich!reader

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4

the sound of a lockpick rustling into a metal lock might be the only thing can be heard during the dead of the night, as mark struggled to open the safe he found inside the wealthy mansion of an old man he discovered in the streets.

mark was just leaning by a wall at the sidewalk, taking a break from stealing other people's wallets when he came across this old man who just went out of the jewelry shop, flexing their newly-bought golden watch and diamong rings that could cost millions of dollar.

his eyes sparkled at the sight and thought it was now his chance to get rich, that's why he ended up here in this fancy-lookin' mansion.

the jewelries are almost falling out of his pockets, his sweat is rolling down his forehead, and his veins are already popping out of his arms as he remained focus on opening the safe.

"c'mon you piece of shit" mark mumbled inaudibly due to the little flashlight placed in his mouth, shaking his head in frustration as he accidentally dropped the lockpick on the marbled floor, creating a huge sound.

"hello?"

and then suddenly a door swung opened, revealing you in a satin nightgown.

you only came downstairs to get a glass of water, but then you heard a loud thud of metal coming from your dad's office.

you thought it would just be your dad doing some work until you saw the guy in a black beanie and black clothes, hunched over the safe as he quickly turned to look at you.

"ah- hmmph!" before you can even scream, the guy already ran up to you and blocked your mouth with his hand to stop you.

"hey hey, don't scream, please" he said to you in a pleading tone while still covering your mouth, and you struggling to get his hand off your face.

"i'll let you go, just don't scream please..." you stopped pushing his hand away, to signal him to let you go now.

before doing something, you thought it would be a bad move to betray him, and scream your lungs out once he lets you go since you don't know if he's carrying a weapon with him.

this could be your last memory.

"my name's mark" the burglar introduced himself, you looked at him in confusion.

"why are you introducing yourself?" you asked, suddenly confused as to why this robber becoming friendly so suddenly.

"what? am i supposed to be evil and murder you instead?" mark joked, but you tensed up when you heard the word "murder"

"i'm kidding"

"okay, why are you in here? why are you trying to open my dad's safe?" you asked nervously.

'okay, so you're the daughter of that rich old man'

wow.

"i-i'm just curious.." mark stuttered, thinking of the next words to say.

you glanced down at his current outfit, you saw your mom's necklaces almost splling out his pockets.

"so you're a burglar!" you exclaimed, like you just unlocked a clue.

"i thought it would be that obvious" mark whispered to himself.

"i'm going to call my dad" you told him bravely, as you turned to the exit.

"hey! no, wait!" mark grabbed your arm and tugged you back to him strongly that made you whip your head back immediately to look at him.

"what can i do to stop you from snitching me out?"

and to realize both of your faces are dangerously close to each other.

you stayed silent and unmoving for a couple of minutes, locking your eyes into his until it moved down to his lips, then back at his eyes again.

you really didn't think mark would notice that little movement your eyes made. thanks to you, he finally knew what to do.

then suddenly mark's lips was on yours, both of your eyes closing in instinct as you two enjoyed the kiss that lasted shortly.

breaking away from each other's lips, you were completely silent and was just staring at him in awe.

in the other hand, mark started to get red and awkward, and decided to head towards the window where he broke in. completely forgetting about the safe.

"uhh, imma have to go now, see ya" he said shyly, scratching the back of his head before climbing down the ladder situated outside the window.

mark's gone and you were still standing there dumbfounded.

you don't know if you're just surprised or in love, but a part of you is hoping that he'll come back to rob your place someday so you could see him again.

you haven't even told him your name yet.

when the morning rises, just lie to your parents that you were asleep during the robbery.

497 notes · View notes

starkeyboy · 1 year ago

Text

the archer

luke castellan x reader

inspired by

“Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you”

i watched as luke smiled at me when i entered the cabin. home of hermes children. home of thieves. also the home of the undetermined. i didn’t smile back as i took a step back, guarding myself.

“this can’t be where i belong, my father promised i would be safe,” i looked behind me to see chiron gone. tears lined my vision as this was my destiny.

“stay strong my sweet y/n. my sweet kind y/n. don’t let them get you, be strong. don’t be scared for war. you’re the strongest girl out there, this is your destiny.”

my destiny he said. the boy stood in front of me as he smiled kindly. 13 years old. he held his hand out as he awaited a hand shake. i looked at him through his curls on his head covering his eyes. my eyes went to his hand and i shook my head.

“this is my destiny he said. i don’t belong here and i will find my way out.” i looked at him through my eyelashes. his hand dropped to his side. the boy beside him snickered.

“come back and get me when you’re out, ya?” the boy said. my eyes softened as his eyes shined through. no. don’t let him get to you. run.

“Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold onto you”

year after year came. i was now 16 at camp half-blood. still undetermined. they eventually gave me a bunk as it became known i wasn’t gonna be claimed by my mother.

every kid came in and they went out like dust on the shelves. i watched as luke laughed with chris and his other buddies. i had grown a liking towards luke as it has been 4 years now living in the same cabin with him. i adjusted to his schedule and his ways in here. this was his home.

i felt his eyes drift over to me as i grabbed my necklace. 4 years. and still no mom. i felt like a kid. searching and searching for her mom in the grocery store.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. i looked at luke as his scent filled the air. i sighed as i brushed his hand off and walked off.

“I’ve been the archer

I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay…All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

‘Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Help me hold onto you”

18 years old. 6 clay beads on my neck. my chest stood tall as the new boy entered the cabin. percy jackson they called him. chiron stood next to him as he welcomed the boy.

“everyone, everyone,” he clapped to grab our attention. everyone stopped talking. percy’s eyes dropping, avoiding eye contact.

“you’re attention please,” i looked over to luke. his eyes averting to mine. i grabbed my stuff and lost our contact. “this is percy jackson” chiron smiled brightly. percy made eye contact with me as he turned to chiron but he had left.

i turned and walked over to luke, his attention going to me.

“keep him close, he’s scared” his eyes pierced mine. he knew exactly what i meant. “please” i pleaded. “i’ll do my job behind the scenes”

“i promise,” he said as he nodded. i thanked him and i secured my bag and looked over to the boy. taking out a bag of blue candy and sighing. i felt my guard go down slightly and never in the past 6 years was my guard down. this boy was special.

°°°

i watched as luke showed him archery and percy failed at that. he failed with the Hephaestus kids and the list went on. i walked into the mess hall seeing the boys speaking and it was like luke felt my aura and he immediately turned to look at me. his heading nodding towards my food.

i sat down next to luke and i looked down at the choice of food.

“what’s your name?” percy asked as i analyzed my food. i looked up and looked to luke and back to percy.

“y/n.” i simply said. he nodded and smiled slightly.

“you were there when chiron introduced me. you look like you take business serious, i mean i’ve seen you around camp as well while luke was touring me.” my eyes back on the food, his words going through my head and staying.

“think of y/n as a protector percy,” luke stated and i felt a small smile rise but i immediately lost it seeing luke notice it. don’t let your guard down. “she sees a lot of her in you” the bell dinged as it was time to offer. i stood tall as luke and chris explained it to percy. they followed after me as i took a deep breath and scraped all my food in the pit.

i heard a sigh behind me as i knew luke wasn’t happy about this. not eating once again.

luke’s pov

we sat back down as y/n sauntered off back to the field. i looked back over to percy and he watched her.

“she didn’t eat” he said as he looked back to me. i looked over to chris and he nodded. we had to tell him.

“y/ns been here for 6 years and has been unclaimed since, percy. she’s a strong woman. she’s special to us.” i stated and his eyes fell. “her offering her plate is her silently pleading for her mom to come through. but she never has.” he looked down to his food and looked back over to where y/n walked.

“we think of y/n as the archer of the camp. the support of us. she won’t straight out say it but she struggles a lot with her mom not stepping up and everyday gets harder and everyday she slips farther away. but ever since you got here, i’ve seen her guard go down slightly. never have we seen that.” i said.

“why me?” he pleaded “i’m not special”

“y/n thinks you are.”

y/ns pov

“Dark side, I search for your dark side

But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here?

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years”

i stared at the bow and arrow before me. my eyes averting to every possible target. my hands gripped the wood as my eyes landed on the center. my attention was soon focused to the two boys dueling beside archery.

luke laughed as percy was once again on the ground. i lowered the weapon as my eyes focused on luke. he held out his hand to percy to help him up. he looked over to me and his face softened. i lost our eye contact and sighed.

luke was special in many ways. camp counselor, best swordsman in the valley. when we met when i was 12 i regretted turning down his offer of his handshake. my dads words stuck with me that day when i made eye contact with him. i was scared.

“don’t let them get you”

but i left out the words he spoken to me in the car on the way to the woods.

“can i give you some advice?” my dad said as i looked over to him. i nodded slightly.

“it’s okay to let go. to let your guard down, but not that easy.” he said. my head fell back on the seat, the rain pouring. “just keep them close” he whispered. i never asked him who “them” was. only to find out it was luke.

my arm stretched as i pulled the arrow back. i felt tears line my eyes of that day. the day luke welcomed me and i was a jerk. i hated myself for it for years. for 6 years. i felt my eyes sting harder. a small sob letting out. my hand letting go of the arrow as the wood fell. my knees lowering to the ground.

“it’s okay to let go.”

it was like slow motion when luke fell in front of me.

“to let your guard down”

“Cause they see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through

Can you see right through me?

They see right through

They see right through me

I see right through me

I see right through me”

sobs racked my body. pain going through my chest. luke held me close. my hands gripped onto his shirt as my tears coated his shoulder.

“i’m so sorry” i repeated over and over. “so sorry”

he held me closer to him and his hand ran through my hair. holding onto me.

“i’ve been the prey”

i felt my body grow tired on the grass as i grew exhausted. he pulled me back as my eyelids hooded. his eyes lined with tears as well.

“lets get you back home” he whispered as he kissed my forehead.

“but who could stay”

when he laid me down on the bed, i quickly grabbed his hand.

“stay” i moved to make room and he instantly made way into the bed.

as i had my head on his chest, i sighed as i ran my hand over his shirt.

“i regret not taking your hand” i said quietly. i moved my attention to his face. my eyes looking at his scar, fingers moving to trace it. his eyebrows furrowed. “this is my destiny he said,” as i recited the words i said to him. his eyebrows relaxing.

his hand came and moved hair away from my face to behind my ear.

“i’ve had my guard up for 6 years luke. i need to let go.” tears once again lined my eyes. “you’ve done so much for me, i was so rude before i finally opened up at 17 and let you in. i don’t deserve you. i deserve to be bullied and pushed around-“

“y/n, stop.” i looked at him as he cut me off. “that day you walked in the cabin when i was 13, i felt something immediately. the need to keep you close, no matter how many times you’ve pushed me away. and me doing that, i’ve seen the small things that you wouldn’t think i’ve seen.” he smiled as he cupped my face. “the blush when i called your name. the smile when i talked about you to percy. but the falter in your eyes when you saw him. the protectiveness when clarisse pushed him. the glint of sadness when the kids got claimed. and it’s the way i wanted to hold you, but you never let your guard down. so i didn’t make you, i would never. i knew deep down, that you would come to me when you were ready.” he said as he wiped a tear away from my eye.

i never noticed. luke was behind me when i needed him. he was in front of me when i needed him. he was there the whole time but i ignored the fact that i needed him. but i also never noticed the gleam in his eyes when i walked into the room. the immediate turn around when he felt my presence. the immediate thrown of his sword and helmet when i let out a sob and drop to the knees.

“luke,” i said to him as i moved to lay my hand on his neck. “im ready, i dont wanna be afraid anymore” he leaned down and kissed me softly. i closed my eyes and chased his lips as he pulled just slightly.

“i’m not gonna let you be afraid, i won’t leave you, i promise” he said he sealed the promise with a kiss.

“Combat, I'm ready for combat”

i never noticed that i fell in love with luke castellan.

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson imagine

433 notes · View notes

pearlessance · 6 months ago

Text

Forgive Me, Father - Idle Threats [viii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel hears your confession and breaks all ten commandments in the house of the holy.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot, mention of sexual assault, murder, canon typical violence, renouncing of god, desecration of a church, blood, brief daddy kink

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

The following days are easier than any other you’ve had since leaving Jackson. It takes two days, but Joel hears your laugh again and feels himself release a heavy weight at the sound. Once, when the two of you are switching watch shifts, you sleepily mutter his name. And he goes to you like he always will—and you whisper an almost incoherent confession of your affection. “I love you, too,” you say, and he tries not to think about the way it makes him feel like a boy your age, hearing those words for the first time.

You move slower, and it’s not because of the extra weight strapped to your horses. Joel doesn’t say it, but he knows it’s because you’re afraid of returning to Jackson. Afraid of things going back to the way they were before this run.

In truth, Joel worries about it too. Worries about finding a new routine, worries about Maria and Tommy and Ellie, worries about what they’ll say. It won’t make him change his mind, he knows. Nothing would ever make him regret this selfish decision to keep you. But sometimes, in a too-long moment of silence, anxiety builds in his chest when he thinks of it.

But you still have several days before you return, and Joel intends to soak up this sweet, delicate time with you while he still can.

A little over halfway back to Jackson, you stop before the sun sets and make camp in an old, abandoned church. The very same one advertised on the billboard Joel had seen on the way to Casper.

Some of the pews are turned over while others have been broken apart and likely set ablaze in the pile of ashes in the center of the floor. There are no infected, but there’s a stone statue of Mary that looms ominously in the corner, covered in dust and cracked along its painted surface.

Joel feels uncomfortable here. Feels watched, judged. His skin crawls and he thinks about pushing on until you find some other place to rest.

The altar table has been left untouched, decorated with a yellowed, satin ribbon draped along its center. The bible lying on top is flipped open to a passage Joel knows well.

Corinthians 10:13

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

It’s bookmarked not with a scrap of paper but with a silver necklace tucked in its spine. A dainty thing with a cross dangling from the end of it. Joel picks it up, watches it sway between his calloused fingers.

And when he turns to face you, you’re standing in the middle of the center aisle and the setting sunlight casts a shadow across your face, making you look like some angelic being sent to him by God himself. “Did you ever come to one of these before the world ended?”

Joel nods, takes the necklace in his hands and finds his way back to you. “Quite a bit when I was a kid,” he answers. “My mom was pretty religious. We went to every Sunday service and sometimes the ones on Wednesdays, too. Even sent Tommy and I to the church's after-school program for young kids.”

He holds the necklace out to show you, and a shiver runs down his spine when you trace the cross in his palm, your touch electrifying. It’s just the smallest brush of your index finger, but it makes the air get caught in his lungs. “Pretty,” you say wistfully. “Do you believe in God?”

Joel jerks his chin in a silent demand and you obey wordlessly, turning away from him. He unclasps the necklace as you hold your hair out of the way. “I did,” he answers slowly, wrapping the silver chain carefully around your throat. “And then I didn’t.”

“And now?”

He secures it and runs his knuckles down the nape of your neck. No would be the closest thing to the truth, but it’s not quite it. Joel thinks about lying to save himself the shame but rejects the thought as soon as it comes. “I believe in you,” he says quietly.

Somehow this confession feels heavier than his declaration of love. Perhaps it’s because this is the thing he’s struggled with, this strange worship of Judas. You’ve come to him in pieces, a shell of a girl, a betrayer—and yet it’s your altar he crawls to. It’s you who holds the keys to heaven, who controls both his grace and his damnation.

Joel leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He can feel your breath falter, and so he does it again. This time a kiss to your shoulder, right above the collar of your sweater.

His hands have a mind of their own as they find your waist. Joel knows this is wrong, knows how sinful it is, and yet he knows the only way to endure the taste of the forbidden fruit is to bite into it, to devour it, to consume it for as long as he’s able. He has spent so much of his life fighting, resisting, repenting—but maybe it’s time God asks for his forgiveness.

Your skin is smooth beneath his calloused palms. He slides them beneath your shirt, over your hips, up your torso. He pulls at the soft garment, and you lift your arms for him to make it easier as he pulls it off and discards it in the nearest pew.

And then his hands are on you again—this time tracing the edge of your jeans, pinky finger dipping slowly beneath the band around your waist, teasing. You’re panting now, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You say his name a little like a prayer and it brings a smile to his face.

“Shh,” he says. “Patience is a virtue, little girl.” But he wants you, perhaps even more than you want to be touched, so his left hand finds the button of your jeans and undoes it.

He moves slowly, and you stand completely still as Joel peels the too-tight jeans down your legs. You kick your boots off, and soon you’re standing in the middle of this crumbling church in nothing but a pair of baby pink panties and a white lace bralette, looking every bit the divine goddess he doesn’t deserve.

When you turn to face him, there’s a playful glint in your eye. “Let me try it,” you say. “One question, though. Is it forgive me, father? Or is it forgive me, Daddy?”

Two things happen inside him at once.

First, the crudeness of your words baffles him so completely that he laughs. Full-on laughs for the first time in twenty years. The vulgarity of it in a place of worship is somehow both amusing and horrifying.

Second, all the blood in his head rushes south. Because the word daddy in your mouth is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard, the dirtiest thing he’s ever heard, and Joel knows right away that he will never have the strength to process why such a thing makes him so goddamn hard. Doesn’t even attempt it.

He simply enjoys it instead. Allows it to drown him, consume him wholly. Accepts what is and what isn’t. Accepts that he is the most deplorable man that’s ever existed and it’s why he’ll never deserve you but it’s also why it’ll never matter. Because now…you belong to the most deplorable man.

The devil and his pretty, perfect Judas.

And then you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and Joel struggles to keep his weary heart from bursting from his chest.

His attempts at composure are blown to pieces when you press your hands together and look up at him through your lashes. With all humor bled from the moment, overtaken by a sudden hunger, you say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” and something evil stirs inside him.

Something more than sinful. Something ungodly. Something blasphemous.

That cross is draped beautifully between your breasts, cleavage elevated by the angle of your arms.

Joel reaches out with both hands and runs them through your hair affectionately. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he says. “You got somethin’ to confess?”

You nod and a smirk graces your face. “I’ve been having wicked thoughts,” you say, voice taking on an innocent and girlish tone. “And…I’ve been giving into temptation, Father.”

“S’that right?” Joel licks his lips. His cock throbs in his jeans, desperate for your touch in a way it’s never been before.

He watches, transfixed, as you take your bottom lip between your teeth, taking your hands from the position of prayer and instead running them up his strong thighs. You slide them beneath his flannel, soft hands cool against his heated skin. “I’ve been letting a man touch me.” You’re whispering, but he feels each syllable down to his bones. “An older man,” you continue, pulling at his belt.

Joel finds you mesmerizing. Thinks you’ve ruined him. Completely, utterly decimated the man he used to be. “Touch you how?”

You don’t take your eyes off his as his belt clinks against the button of his jeans. “I’ve let him inside me, Father,” you say, pulling down his zipper at a torturous pace. “I’ve let him in my mouth, in my heart, in between my thighs.”

He never thought it possible, but his need for you grows teeth, morphs into some vicious, ravenous thing. Joel brushes his fingers through your hair, pulling lightly at the roots. “And what do you think you should do as repentance, sweetheart?”

Joel’s reminded of a siren’s song when you answer, “I think I should show a little extra devotion. Don’t you?” You pull his cock from his jeans, and the simple touch of your hand has him nearly shaking in anticipation. You break character for only long enough to giggle softly, wipe the back of your hand over your glossy lips, and say, “My mouth is watering.”

He smooths your hair back away from your face, admiring the way you look on your knees for him, just as desperate as he is. “Go’head, baby,” he says.

You don’t waste any time. You’re slow in your pursuit; tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. Savoring, worshiping, devoting yourself to him and him only. You swirl your tongue around the head, licking up drops of precum.

When you finally take him into your mouth, you don’t stop until you’ve swallowed him whole, choking on it, nose pressed to the tuft of hair below his navel. It’s the most glorious thing Joel’s ever seen in all his life. And then you moan, and he can feel the vibrations of it down to his toes.

You pull your head back far enough, and your mouth leaves him completely, connected by nothing but strands of saliva. Your lips are already bruised and swollen, but they pull into the prettiest, proudest smile he’s ever seen, and Joel’s weak in the knees.

“Filthy little girl,” he says affectionately, hands still running through the silky strands of your hair. “Y’like that? Hm? You like that mouth filled up, don’t you?”

“Mmhm.” There’s so much love, so much worship in your eyes that he feels his chest pull tight. You take his cock in your mouth again, tongue sliding along the underside of it, cheeks hollowed out to take him in deeper.

Joel feels your devotion with each soft lick, each swallow at the back of your throat, each ragged, choked breath. He knows he won’t last long. Your mouth is too hot, too wet, too sweet. And when you pick up the pace, bobbing your head, fingernails leaving indentations in the exposed skin of his thighs, pressure builds at the base of his spine like a fucking noose. “There you go,” he encourages. “Doin’ so fuckin’ good, baby. Shit —just like that.”

Your cheeks are flushed, and Joel’s once gentle hands pull tight in your hair, guiding your mouth down onto him. It only makes those delicious moans around his cock that much sweeter. Your thighs are clamped tightly together, and he barrels towards euphoria as he thinks about just how wet he knows you are, his dirty little girl.

“Fuck, baby—fuck. Hold on, hold on.” He pulls your head back, cock slick and glossy, covered in your spit. He’s going to finish just like this if he’s not careful. “Gonna be over too soon if you keep that up.”

“Please, Joel,” you say. “I want to taste it. It’s all I want. Let me make you feel good.”

Joel thinks Michaelangelo never would’ve sculpted David, had his existence overlapped with yours. Because in all the time of the universe, a sight has never lived as beautiful as the one of you begging on your knees before him.

What kind of man would he be if he refused? Joel wants to give you everything you could ever ask for. Wants to give you the world at whatever cost to his soul.

So, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your bruised lips around his cock again. You feel like heaven, or as close to it as he’ll ever be allowed.

He comes at the back of your throat with a groan and trembling hands in your hair. Hands that are all too aware that they hold something holy, something divine. “ Goddamn —fuck. Mm, yeah. There you go, baby. There you go.”

His cock throbs in your mouth, and you don’t stop sucking until he’s completely spent. And when you do finally lean back and stick out your tongue, he’s nearly hard again at the obscene way his come drips down your lips, down your chin.

Then you swallow, and Joel grins and rests his palm gently on your cheek. He uses the rough pad of his thumb to push the last few drops back into your mouth, and you suck it down greedily. “Gotta take it all, little girl. Make me proud, hm?”

And as soon as you’re satisfied, Joel’s pulling you back to your feet and pressing his mouth to yours in a ravenous kiss. He can taste remnants of himself on you, and it’s the most comforting sensation he’s ever experienced. It’s proof of your union, evidence of your devotion. A physical, tangible way to convince him he’s not alone in his sacrilege.

Joel lifts you off your feet, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you to the altar table, lays you down, and pushes your knees apart. Normally, he likes to take his time with you. Likes to savor the way you taste, the way you feel. But he’s so hungry for you and you only that he cannot— cannot wait another fucking second.

But then you say his name and his every intention freezes. “You don’t have to,” you say, and it confuses him. You attempt an explanation. “I don’t want you to feel like you always have to make me finish, too. I just…I didn’t do it expecting anything in return. I want you to know that.”

You sound so sincere, so… benevolent. A far cry from the bratty little girl he first met. He presses a kiss to your temple and says quietly, “I’d never let my little girl go without. Not the kinda man I am, baby.”

He might be too old to go rounds with you, but he knows how to make you feel good. He’s real good at it, in fact.

Joel leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your clit, right over your panties. He delights in the way it makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds you make when he pulls the fabric to the side and slides his tongue through your wet warmth.

He presses your legs back, opens you further, and laps at your pussy like a man starved for you because he is. You taste like redemption, like home.

Your hands weave into his hair, tugging lightly, and Joel moans when you press his face against your pussy like he just can’t get close enough. He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard, tongue rolling over it softly.

“Fuck, that feels so good, Joel— God —”

A groan escapes him, lips vibrating with the sound of it. His cock begins to harden again, hanging heavy between his legs. He’s insatiable for you; returned to the needy, desperate stage of his masculinity he once thought he’d grown out of.

Joel quickens the movement of his tongue and slips a finger inside of you. Your back arches off the altar table and your hips grind against his face, smearing your slick down his chin, over his lips.

He hooks his finger inside of you and strokes the spot that makes you writhe. You look so beautiful he thinks you must be some divine being. It’s the only thing that makes sense in his head.

Your legs begin to tremble around his shoulders and that’s when he decides to pull away. Because he wants you to cum for him, wants to be the reason you shiver and shake—but he wants to feel it.

In one smooth movement, he pulls you to the edge of the altar table and sinks his cock into you deep.

“Oh my God,” you whimper. “Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he says, stilling the instinctual rocking of his hips. You’re so tight, so smooth and wet as your pussy flutters around his cock. He pushes into you to the hilt but doesn’t move, doesn’t give you the satisfaction. He moves his hands to your lower belly, applying just a little bit of pressure. He can feel himself inside you, can feel just how full of him you are. “Want you to cum with me, little girl,” he says. “Can you do that for me? Hm?”

Slowly, experimentally, he shifts his hips the smallest bit, thrusting into you and laughing maliciously at the way you squeeze your eyes shut and whine for more. “I can—can try,” you stammer. “But it feels so —”

“Shh, I know baby,” he says, thrusting into you again, a little harder this time. It feels euphoric, indulging himself in you in a place of worship. He can feel faith in the air like magic, faith in you, in himself, in the love you share.

He moves again, fucking you slow and deep. If it weren’t for the way you make him feel, he thinks he might last a little longer. But the taste of ambrosia lingers on his tongue and he can see the pulsing of your clit and feel the tension in your muscles created from holding yourself back from the edge of pleasure.

Pride swells in his chest. His perfect girl, doing everything he asks, doing anything to please him. It makes him feel holy, like maybe the only godly presence in the room is him.

This is what you’ve done to him. You’ve taken this shell of a man and turned him seraphic, turned him sacred through your worship. Emotion builds in his throat when he thinks of it, when he realizes just how lucky he is to exist in this same universe as you, in the same lifetime.

He kisses you deep and fucks you even deeper.

“Joel,” you pant, fingernails digging into the side of the altar table. The aged satin cloth has been wrinkled beneath your weight, hanging slightly askew off the edge. “Please, please, I can’t—!”

Warmth pools low in his belly. You sound so pretty when you beg. He presses one hand harder against your abdomen and uses the other to circle your clit. He can feel his cock move beneath his palm with each thrust and the sensation is the filthiest thing he’s ever experienced.

The pressure builds and builds and builds, and then finally —

“Go ‘head, baby. Cum for me,” he says, thrusting a little faster, rhythm faltering as rapture fills him like sunlight. Your legs tremble around his hips and your moans echo in the church as you find faith, too.

“I love you,” you say, and it feels like redemption. Like the opening of heaven’s gates.

Like forgiveness.

You come down slowly, and Joel’s completely spent with almost no energy left. Yet still he helps you dress, pulls your sweater back on, and buttons up those too-tight jeans.

You eat together, rationing what little food you have left to try and stretch these precious days out a little longer. You admit around a bite of hard bread that you’re exhausted from the day’s ride and he is, too. And so you work together to stack the pews in front of the church’s double doors, sealing yourself inside but more importantly keeping anything outside from getting in.

There’s a window at the back of the church in a room Joel knows was once used for confessional. He leaves it cracked just enough to hear the horses outside if a commotion is caused. And then he holds you in his arms and sleeps.

It’s the best sleep Joel’s gotten in twenty-five years, the sound of your voice echoing even in his dreams.

But halfway through the night, the sound of whinnying and rambunctious laughter can be heard, jarring you both awake.

You’re out of his arms and at the back of the church before Joel’s finished blinking his eyes open.

He stands to his feet, heart racing behind his ribcage.

Men’s voices, but far away. Several of them.

He watches you move quickly through the church to the window at the front, watches you carefully peak through the dirty glass pane.

Joel saddles up behind you and has never been more thankful that you skipped the warmth of a fire. Because fifteen yards away, there’s a group of men passing through. Some on horses, others walking casually beside them. They’re not subtle about their presence.

Maybe they don’t think anyone’s around. And on any normal day, they would be right. Except this day, Joel’s here. You’re here.

He picks up his rifle from the makeshift bed the two of you created hours ago.

You don’t move. You stay focused, transfixed as if you’re trying to see the minute details of their faces from this far away. You wipe the glass with the ivory sleeve of your sweater and it comes away grimy, covered in dust.

Joel knows there’s something you’re not telling him. Can feel the tension, electric and tight in the air, skin crawling with it. Your eyes are narrowed, focused on the sound of rambunctious laughter coming from the small group of men.

And then your spine straightens and all concern bleeds from your face, replaced in an instant with rage. Red, murderous rage. Joel thinks he’s only seen that sort of frenzy in his own reflection. Now it stares back at him, mirrored and bloodthirsty. “What is it?”

You don’t answer. The scrape of your knife against its sheath at your thigh strikes a terror in him he hasn’t felt in years. His stomach turns uncomfortably because Joel knows, he knows something isn’t right. Something is going to go wrong. He can feel it in his marrow.

“Stop,” he says. “Talk to me.”

It’s like his words don’t even register. You say nothing as you pull at the pews stacked in front of the doors. They scrape noisily against the hardwood floor, and Joel tries to find something to stop you, to get through to you—but that knife is still clutched in your blanched fist and he knows in your rage you’ll swing at him all the same.

“There are eight of them and two of us,” he tries to reason. “We have no ammunition, no bullets, no arrows. We have to let them—”

“Go?” You turn your frenzied eyes on him. “What’s now eight used to be twenty,” you say. “I won’t let them get away this time.”

“Then we plan for it,” he says, holding out a hand and taking a tentative step toward you. It doesn’t matter to him what your reasoning may be. Joel knows that sort of wrath, knows he’ll never change your mind. And he knows following you down this path of slaughter is bound to bloody his hands further, to taint his soul this time beyond repair.

But he made a promise to you. Nothing in this world will you ever face alone.

The problem is that Joel knows neither of you will make it out alive. Not in this. You got lucky back in Casper, and he’s got the knowledge and experience with age to know you won’t get lucky twice.

He can’t let you do this.

“They won’t get far, okay? Not in an area like this. We go home— tomorrow. We ride to Jackson and we’ll get there in a day if we don't stop. And then we’ll come back for them, alright? We’ll stock up and track them down. I swear to you—”

“You don’t know,” you say, voice shaking. “You don’t know what they did—!”

“So tell me. Tell me everything. Give me the knife.” He reaches for it slowly, carefully. You eye him like he might grow claws and an extra head if you look away for an instant.

You don’t trust him, Joel realizes. Not at this moment, not with this. “Joel,” you say in warning. “Don’t.”

He wonders what’s led you here. Wonders about who’s distrusting hands you once placed your justice in.

The answer comes to him the moment the question crosses his mind.

“I’m not like her,” he says. “Look at me, baby girl. Look at me .”

You do. And though that frenzied look lingers in your eyes, something in you softens and he’s grateful for it.

“I’m not Maria. You understand me? When I make you a promise, I mean it. I will kill them. All of them. But we have to be smart about this. We have to do it right. Yeah?” He reaches out again. “Give me the knife.”

You angle it higher, just out of his reach. For a second Joel thinks all progress has been lost because he moved too quickly, too carelessly. But then you say, “Swear it to me. Swear on her life that you won't make me let them go.”

On her life.

Not her death, but her life. A promise of certainty. An unbreakable oath. Because if he fails, if he shatters this trust, Sarah’s life means nothing.

Joel’s lungs ache. Everything hurts and his skin feels like it’s on fire because no one has ever seen him like this. No one has known exactly what to say, exactly which bruises to press.

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he relents. “I swear on her life that we will find them.”

Carefully, you hand him the blade, and as if giving it away had flipped a switch, you deflate.

Joel slides your knife into the side of his boot when you turn away from him and go back to the window.

He stands beside you, a looming presence at your back. Even though he wants answers, he doesn’t want to pry them out of you. And your silence allows him the space for his mind to wander into unspeakable places. Joel has seen firsthand the depraved, vile things that mankind spirals into beneath the weight of survival.

For a time, even he had sunk so incredibly low.

And because he’s seen so much, his brain is filled with gut-wrenching images, theoretical scenes of torture, corruption, and perversion. Each one is more brutal than the last. And in them all, you’re the center of it.

You watch the group of men through the window until the blue illumination of their flashlights disappears from view. And the moment they do, you’re slipping through the window in the back of the church.

Joel follows you, a million questions on the tip of his tongue. But he stays silent and does nothing but help you gather debris fallen from the trees in the wooded area behind the church.

Once, he picks up a curved stick, and as if you’d seen it from the back of your head, you say, “No. Not that one. If they’re too curved, the arrows won’t shoot straight.”

The two of you gather timber for over an hour. And when his hands are just as full as yours, you return to the church. Joel returns your knife and you attempt to teach him how to shave the stick correctly and to whittle the point of it into a weapon.

He’s not even half as fast as you are. For every arrow he creates, you produce three. It’s a slow, tedious process, but eventually, you begin to speak.

“It happened on the last run I did for Maria,” you say, eyes focused on the knife and wood in your hands. “I fell asleep one night. It’d been days since I’d given myself a chance to rest and it had finally caught up to me. I’d barricaded myself in a house and might as well have been dead to the world. Two of them found me. Didn’t wake me, didn’t try to kill me or anything. They just took my bow and my pack. My pack that was mostly empty, had nothing in it but a twelve gauge with two bullets, some cans of food, water, and those stale fucking barbecue chips.”

You shake your head dismally.

“Should’ve fuckin left it. But I…I was afraid. If I came back to Jackson without the one thing she asked for, what use was I? What kept me there?”

It pains him to hear you say it. He wants to tell you you’re wrong, that despite what Maria has made you believe, your worth is not tied to what you can do for her. But he doesn’t. Joel just lets you talk.

“I tracked them to a warehouse a few miles outside of Boise. Watched them for a while, memorized all the entrances, the windows. Even memorized their faces. They had two people on watch in rotating shifts. I didn’t want to kill them, considering they didn’t try to kill me. But I wanted my pack, and so I waited until four of them were talking during a shift change and slipped inside through the back.”

Your eyes darken, and Joel fears what you may say next.

“Didn’t go as planned. One of them saw me. Outed me immediately, of course. And I thought they’d kill me. Shoot me or something. But that didn’t go as planned, either. The leader was called Gabriel.”

Your hands around the arrow still and your eyes grow misty. You’re reliving it, as clearly as if it were happening now.

“He, uhm…held me down. Suggested the rest of them take turns with me.”

Joel feels something inside him shift. Feels a decision being made, feels murder begin to drip down his fingertips like water.

“They’d already had my shotgun and took the pistol I had tucked in the back of my jeans the second they ripped them off. I thought…I thought it was the end for me. Because even if I survived it, even if I made it through all twenty of them…I might as well have been dead anyway.”

He understands now, Joel realizes. Understands why you were so infuriated about a run for a pregnancy craving when the price was this. His mouth runs dry.

Your words echo in the dark church. “Had my knife tucked up the sleeve of my jacket, though.” A small smile graces your face as you turn the blade over in your fingers admiringly. “Was able to stop Gabriel before he got any further. They were…stupid. Arrogant. Came at me one by one because why would you need more than that to fight a little girl with nothing but a knife ?”

Now there are only eight of them. The main perpetrator perished, his blood stained so deeply into your jacket that when you’d returned to Jackson they’d had to burn it. No salvaging anything from your destruction.

Nothing but this vengeance, this promise to yourself to right those who wronged you. He forced you to break it for your own safety. And though a surge of regret and sorrow trickles into his psyche, he knows there’s still an unbroken vow remaining.

The promise Joel made to you.

“Some of them ran. I tried to track them but after a few days, I just…I needed sleep. I wanted to go home.” You go black to fletching your arrow, whittling the end into a sharp point. “I’ll find them one day. Then it’ll be me taking turns with them .”

You don’t say much else for the next two hours. And he doesn’t, either. He helps you sharpen the timber into arrows and when you yawn three times in less than five minutes, he gives you his flannel and lets you lay your head in his lap.

Joel smooths the tangles in your hair as you sleep. And when you begin to softly snore, he carefully shifts your head onto your sleeping bag and tucks the strap of his rifle beneath your arm.

When he slips out of the window in the back of the church, he latches it shut. He decides against taking a horse, worried it’d create too much commotion.

But he does take your serrated sawback knife, telling himself it’s poetic justice.

They’re only two miles away, stashed in a rundown grocery store that’s been picked over one too many times. Two men sit outside the door. Old habits die hard, Joel thinks.

One has his head tilted back against the stone wall, sleeping with an ease he doesn’t deserve.

Joel takes out the other one first. And he does it quicker than he’d like. He creeps up behind him silently, wraps one hand around his throat, and uses the other to cover his mouth. The snap of his spine reverberates through Joel’s hands, tingling from his palms down to his elbows.

The other wakes with the commotion but doesn’t even have the chance to scream before your knife is lodged in his neck so deep the sharp point sticks out of the other end.

Inside, the other six all rest as well. Joel wonders how they can do so peacefully, knowing they’ve given an innocent little girl fuel for her nightmares. A girl who’s lost enough, who’s sacrificed enough, more than anyone should—only to lose a piece of herself at their greedy hands.

He makes quick work of them. Even delights in the way life leaves their eyes. One by one, Joel uses your knife to slit each and every one of their throats.

By the time he’s finished, his hands are caked in blood, splatters staining the sleeves of his heavy, canvas coat, and all that’s left of the men who hurt you are eight corpses.

You’re still sleeping when he slips back through the window of the church. It’s a little ironic, he thinks, to return here to this holy place with an angel inside, all while covered in the stink of death.

Joel sits beside you, back pressed against a pew. His hands rest on his knees, blood still drying beneath his fingernails. He watches you sleep and thinks his damnation is worth it if this brings you a sense of safety.

Though he tries not to, Joel thinks an awful lot about Sarah. Thinks about how he failed her, how just a little more brutality could have saved her.

He’s spent years regretting that night, regretting holding on to the shred of humanity he had left when he should have been holding onto her. He makes a promise not to repeat the same bad habits. Makes a promise he’ll never let his naive desire for respite get in the way of his need to protect you, to keep you safe. He’s breaking the habit, the same as he did with Ellie, because Joel doesn’t think he'll ever survive a loss of such magnitude again.

It doesn’t matter what he has to become to keep you safe. Doesn’t matter the cost to his soul.

Your face looks peaceful but your fists are coiled tight beneath your head. As if even in your sleep you’re fighting something, always on the defense. He wonders if it’s a trait you inherited before or after those men, before or after your sister's death, before or after the accusatory way the inhabitants of Jackson look at you.

Joel feels something heavy rise up in him. Something akin to sorrow or grief. This deep, pensive heartache because it’s just not fair. You’re so young, so innocent, dealing with the same demons he still fights and sometimes loses to at age fifty-two.

He doesn’t want this for you. Doesn’t want you to become volatile, murderous, monstrous in the ways he has. Joel spent so much time pushing you away and he thinks maybe it’s because there’s so much of his anger mirrored in you. That staring it in the face felt too harrowing, too raw.

The longer he thinks about it the more pieces slot together in his brain. Your cruel words hurled at anyone who sets you on edge. Your inability to follow any direction that isn’t forced. The self-isolation, the distrust in even those you love most. That animalistic fight in you, flight and freeze be damned. The need to protect others before yourself—Joel, Ellie, Miley, even Maria.

You don’t deserve to live like this. Don't deserve eternal damnation or to experience the wrath of God for the monstrous things you result to when you feel all else is lost. Violence is the only thing that has never turned its back on you.

Joel’s melancholy manifests, a single tear sliding down his cheek. You’re just a little girl and it's not fucking fair.

He doesn’t want this for you. He wants you to live a full, happy, peaceful life. Not one spent out here chasing ghosts, trying to find your worth in providing for others. He wants you to be protected, to know you’re loved even when you lash out, wants you to know that he understands. Joel wants to be that for you. Wants to be the unwavering support you deserve, wants to be the thing that pulls you back from that ledge you’re dancing upon. Joel wants to be for you what he needed in the darkest part of his rage.

But to do that, you’re going to have to relinquish a little more of that control you hold so tightly.

When you wake, it’s gradual. You don’t startle or flinch at the blood on his hands. But your eyes linger there on the red stain for some time before you ask, “All of them?”

Joel nods once. “All of them.”

And then you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him, pressing your mouth to his, thanking him in the only way you know how. Your tongue tastes like sleep and ambrosia and sunlight, but when Joel cradles your face in his hands he leaves blood in the wake of his fingertips. The bright red is a stark contrast against the smoothness of your skin, the violence an antithesis to your innocence.

He slides his bloody hands into your hair when your hips begin to move. His cock hardens quickly as his body catches up with your intent, always needy and eager, always just waiting to join you in more than just soul.

While he unbuttons his jeans and slides his zipper down to pull his erection out, your mouth never leaves his. Even when you shove those too-tight jeans down your thighs just enough to make room for him. When you lift up on your knees and sink down onto his cock in one familiarized movement he can feel the vibration of your moan against his tongue, can feel the breath of air from your gasp as he settles in deep.

The stretch is blissfully painful, stinging in all the right ways. You rock your hips slowly at first, adjusting to the sheer size of him, adjusting to his all-encompassing warmth. Your fingers dig into his thick shoulders, desperate to keep your balance.

And then you lift just enough to come slamming back down, the friction setting his skin ablaze. Again, again, again —it’s hurried and needy and depraved. Your hips move fervently over his, seeking out what you know only he can provide.

Your eyes are squeezed shut when you pull your sweet mouth away from his. Joel watches you lean back and place your hands on his thighs for support, back arching, and somehow he finds himself even deeper inside you. You’re moaning and his breath is coming fast and he thinks you look more than just angelic from this angle. He watches you ride his cock and wonders if you were fucking made to do this.

Cheeks flushed, lips parted, his name on your lips. Is this what Eve saw in the waxy reflection of the forbidden fruit? Is this what she saw when she knowingly abandoned paradise?

Joel thinks it can’t get much better than this. Thinks the only thing that’s ever come close is the feeling of blood on his hands in the name of those he loves, in the name of you.

He wraps his hand around your throat, staining you even further red, and says, “I’d do anything for you. Anything .”

He thinks about the Ten Commandments, about how he can cross off every single one of them with just this act alone.

You shall have no other Gods before me.

No divine being has made him feel like this. No divinity has ever reached up through his ribs and squeezed a fist around his heart. Not like you have.

You shall make no idols.

He thinks about the way you look in his canvas coat. Joel has found his own form of peace through you, has found forgiveness beneath your tongue.

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.

Your pace quickens. The obscene, wet sounds coming from the place you’re joined echo in the walls of the church. “Oh my God, Joel, I’m—I’m close.”

He knows you are. Can feel it in the way your pussy squeezes him like a vise, in the way your rhythm becomes sloppy and desperate.

Keep the Sabbath day holy.

Joel doesn’t know what day it is. But he knows he wishes he could stay here in this home you’ve made together within the bones of an old religion, wishes he could stay inside you. He doesn’t know if there’s anything more unholy than this insatiable desire.

Honor your father and mother.

He thinks about that day in the dining hall when embarrassment climbed Maria’s cheeks as you screamed in her face. Joel thinks she deserved it more than he realized that day. He thinks about the way you spoke to him in that watchtower, thinks about the way he’d had to drag you there by your hair, all while listening to every disrespectful thing that came out of your mouth and how a few short weeks later you got down on your knees and called him daddy.

You shall not murder.

He takes the hand wrapped around your throat and flattens it against your sternum. The blood is drying but still marks your skin in the shape of his fingerprints.

You shall not commit adultery.

Joel knows he’s supposed to be with a lovely, soft-spoken, age-appropriate woman but knows, too, that death would be kinder than the loss of you.

You shall not steal.

He was angry at first, about the strawberry scone. Mike’s wife is a kind woman who spends her time baking for the community. But Ellie likely never would’ve had the opportunity to try it had you not nicked the pastry. If it was always going to lead the two of you here, together, Joel would have stolen every last scone on God’s green earth.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

Lying seems a small price to pay for you, for your safety. He remembers telling Greg and Bonnie that you were running late the night you left him in the watchtower alone. He wanted to keep you safe then even without noticing that’s what he was doing. Safe from ridicule, from judgment.

You shall not covet.

He recalls seeing Abel’s hands on you, seeing his lips against your hair in a chaste kiss. Joel had wanted to kill him then, for touching what was his. He knows by taking you for his own, he’s taking you away from someone like Abel. Someone with a little more moral in their heart, a little less blood on their hands. But he doesn’t care because you’re his now and always.

Joel lifts his hips in tandem with yours, meeting each stroke, thrusting his cock even deeper inside you. Your legs begin to shake around his and Joel thinks damnation isn’t so bad. “Anything,” he repeats. “Lie, cheat, steal.” His hand on your chest slides up again, wrapping tight around your throat. “I’d kill for you, little girl.”

Your pussy flutters around him and your spine bends in the most beautiful arch he’s ever seen. It solidifies his belief in one very important thing, the last nail in the coffin that cements the two of you together eternally.

This filthy, sinful devotion is cosmic. Celestial. Unearthly. So much more than a bible and cross.

It’s worth it. It’s worth everything.

“You like that? Hm?” Your rhythm falters but his remains steady. “Like that I’d spill blood for you, s’that it? That’s what got you all wet, sweetheart?” Your moans turn saccharine— sacrilegious. “Pretty pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, baby. Such a messy thing. I’d kill anyone for my little girl. Anyone .”

“Joel, I—!”

He knows, he knows. Because he is, too. “Yeah, thaaaat’s it,” he says, drawing out each syllable. Your hands squeeze hard around his thighs and your muscles draw tight. “There you go, baby. Cum for me. That’s it. Sweet fuckin’ girl. Gonna fill you up. That what you want?”

You rasp out his name and the words yes, please, please, and it sounds like a fucking prayer. It’s a hypnotic litany. It makes him feel cherished, adored. And the sound of it spoken in worship in the house of God sends him over the edge.

Even though your legs tremble around his, you ride his cock relentlessly. Joel’s vision goes white and his hand on your hip squeezes tight enough to bruise. You feel so good, so warm and wet. You lift your hips and slam them back down until the oversensitivity becomes more than he can bear. His hand abandons the home it’s made around your throat and finds the small of your back instead, stilling you completely.

You lean forward, collapsing with your hands pressed against his chest. Joel wraps his arms around your middle and cradles you in his lap, all too aware of the divinity he holds in his hands. He presses a kiss to your temple and listens to your heavy breaths.

Some time passes. He’s not sure how long the two of you sit there with Joel still wedged deep inside you, basking in the afterglow. The sun rises outside and the songbirds of the morning begin to sing.

Eventually, you lift your head and whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Joel doesn’t understand. He’s stolen something he was undeserving of, only to be loved back. If anyone should be thankful, it should be him.

It feels like a punch to the gut when you say, “For seeing me.”

Because he now knows no one else ever has. No one has ever seen your defiance as anything but a nuisance, has never seen you as more than a troublemaker, as a bad omen.

But Joel does see you. He sees right through all that savage fight to the little girl beneath, that soft, childish innocence you keep under heavy guard. He thinks he’s been able to see through it since the first moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s her he wants to protect.

Joel takes your chin in his hand and makes you a commandment of his own. “I will always see you.”

[part seven] [part nine]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

let me know if you want to be added! thank you to everyone for all the insane support on this <3

[masterist]

#joel miller #ao3 fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #x reader #smut #joel miller self insert #idle threats #pearlessance #tlou

144 notes · View notes