#tunes talks brick

[fellhellion]

It’s fascinating to me how so many modern les mis adaptations see a story where THE titular cop is forced to face the fact he’s been the arm of a cruel and unjust system for the entirety of his life because he’s a cop, and this realisation is SO soul crushing that he submits his life to the only moral authority he sees left (God) via suicide; people see THAT story and go wow I can’t believe les mis is about one bad apple cop who we will also imply was just this weird because he’s gay

[nadia-zahra]

The byler brainrot is back in business babyyyyy

[miley1442111]

clingy- a.hotchner

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summary: aaron acts quite differently with his wife around, which causes eyebrowns to raise and feelings to start getting hurt.

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mildly suggestive, negative self-talk

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You rushed around the corner, only to be met with your brick wall of a husband, Aaron Hotchner. 

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he smiled, his hands circling your waist and holding you to him. 

“Aaron I need to-” you huffed but he cut you off with a quick kiss. 

“You don’t need to do anything,” his hands ventured lower, until he was fully squeezing your ass. 

“Your team will be here any minute,” you sighed. The team had never met you, one of Aaron’s non-negotiables when you two got married, but nothing a year of married bliss and a lot of bribing him with sex couldn’t fix. 

“And everything is ready,” he smiled. “Stop worrying so much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, well that’s helpful, thank you so much Sherlock Holmes,” you responded sarcastically and Aaron’s smile turned into a full-on smirk. 

“I love you too.”

You wriggled out of his arms with great effort, and a lot of elbowing him, then it was back to your frantic cooking and cleaning. 

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The team was in shock. They knew that newly-wed SSA Aaron Hotchner was a lot more laid back then before, but when he was with you? All bets were off. His hands stayed firmly on you at all times,  much like his attention. You were clearly used to it, but to the team, your frequent flirty banter was bizarre. How could Aaron Hotchner be this… relaxed?

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You noticed the weird look halfway through the dinner, and kicked Aaron under the table as a way to ask him if he would tune it down. He obliged, albeit confused, and kept his hands to himself for the rest of the night, much to his own dismay. 

Throughout the night, everytime someone made a look or whispered to each other, a sense of dread grew in your stomach. By the end of the night, it got so bad that you just left the room altogether and did the dishes instead. You had a dishwasher, there was no point in hand washing the dishes, but you had to get away from their prying eyes. 

They think you’re weird. They hate that you and Aaron are together. They think he can do so much better. 

Your thoughts were cut off by a hand on the small of your back. 

“Are you alright?” Aaron asked, pressing a kiss to your temple. Usually, his touch would ground you, but tonight it felt like a fire on your skin, one you wanted to put out. You quickly stepped out of his grasp and nodded. 

“Yeah, fine, just tired.”

“Well, people are heading out now, they wanted to thank you.”

“Sounds good,” you mustered up a half-assed smile and followed behind him as the team slowly filtered out of your house in a flurry of ‘thank yous’, ‘see you soons’ and ‘it was delicious’. 

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You spent the rest of the night slightly avoiding Aaron’s touch. When you both sat down to watch a film, you decided it would be the best time to paint your nails, meaning Aaron should obviously sit on the opposite side of the couch, right? He did so without question, but not without a quizzical look. Next it was the bathroom, you sat on the closed toilet, brushing your teeth as Aaron stood in front of the mirror, his eye trained on you. 

Now Aaron was getting worried. Had he done something to annoy you? But then you’d surely talk to him, right? You’d never been one to not communicate, so he was left feeling completely bewildered by the predicament. 

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In bed, he tried to wrap his arms around you, but you brushed him off, saying you were too warm.

“Did I do something?” He asked, turning back on his bedside lamp. 

“No,” you answered, your back still to him.

“Then why won’t you let me touch you?” he asked, rather blatantly. 

You rolled around to look at him, and immediately regretted it. This was so silly. You were getting upset about what a bunch of strangers (to you at least) thought about you and Aaron’s relationship. Fuck them. You started to laugh, embarrassment kicking in as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He held you there, chuckling softly as he enjoyed the closeness of you after not being close for the past few hours. One thing you hadn’t expected from Aaron is that he was clingy. 

“It’s so dumb,” you giggled. “So you can’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” he smiled and you mustered up your best stern look. “I promise!”

“I was overthinking about what your team thinks of how much we touch each other,” you admitted. Aaron burst out laughing. You playfully hit him on the arm, but started laughing with him.

“That is dumb,” he chuckled.

“Hey!” You scolded, hitting him on the arm again. “That’s-”

“Do you want to know what they said when you were out of the room?” He offered and your interest was piqued. He pulled your hips and sat you on his lap, straddling him as he began to speak again. 

“They said that you were the nicest,” KISS. “Most lovely,”KISS.  “Most beautiful,”KISS. “Woman on the planet,” KISS. “And they could see how happy you make me.”

Your heart swelled. “So… they liked me then?”

Aaron laughed again. “They liked you a lot. Just like I do.”

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[moondirti]

ghoap x nanny! reader / 18+ / previous ft. surveillance. handjobs. voyeurism. mild s/m. dirty talk.

They check up on you when they can.

Price wasn't exaggerating when he doled out the mission details. It's a tough one. Grueling. The type that necessitates four flights a week and days of little to no sleep, the men fuelled on nothing but a snow-balling urgency to get it done. The target is a slippery fuck, with connections that transport him across the globe at the first sign of conflict. They come close to apprehending him only once, and nothing comes of it but the exacerbated threat of nuclear war as the bastard starts to squeak like a cornered mouse. Gaz has a near constant migraine. Soap stops being fun around the two week mark, exhaustion slowing his tongue. Ghost grows more unhinged with his kills, punching blades through the throats of anyone who dares get in their way.

But still, they check on you.

Isla occupies a quarter of their headspace at all times; half when they don't have to dedicate their focus to the operation. It's the longest they've ever spent away from their girl, the withdrawals hitting them like a bag of bricks. They do whatever's necessary, then, to tune into the nanny cams they have set up around the house, lest Johnny cries about the way her hands dimple when she uncurls a fist again. Or worse – before Simon forgets what tethers him to humanity.

They find the two of you are always doing something.

Which isn't a surprise. You had mentioned your background in early childhood education; they just thought that it'd been a device to impress them. But it's clear that you're eager to put your degree to use when they see you setting up yet another enrichment activity for their daughter and encouraging her to engage.

The first time, they had just arrived on base. It'd been five hours since they've seen you last and already, Johnny had pulled his phone to log onto the monitoring app he had installed.

Sure enough, you were in the same overalls they saw you in last, Isla changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas after her bath. You had her set on her play mat, but replaced the dangling toys for newer, more colourful ones. As she reached for them, you would sound out the shade in a high-pitched voice and grin excitedly when she'd babble back, as if aaaah! meant green.

He felt his heart tug something fierce, caught between endearment and unease at missing out, before getting dressed for debrief.

The third time, you let them know you could tell when the nanny cam is in active use. Not accusatorially, of course – it unfolded in a way too innocent to be anything but a whammy on their part.

They were in a humvee on exfil after being ambushed by the local army – soldiers with blood money lining their pockets, tasked with dispatching the bloodhounds that keep sniffing their patron's trail. Simon had watched a little boy get caught in the crossfire and decided it was imperative to check if Isla was okay, despite her being hundreds of miles away and off anyone's radar.

You're the first thing he saw, carrying the weight of a huge plastic storage container filled with water. In it, there were several rubber animals that inspired a fit of squeals somewhere off screen. You had laughed, a little out of breath, and he remembers the relief that flooded his chest at the dual sounds. Like the cold lick of waves across scorching sand.

As you'd passed by the camera, you stopped and crouched so your face would be in view.

"Isla likes splashing around in the water. I'm thinking of getting her a paddling pool." And you lifted the container as if you would ever need to justify the way you take of their daughter. "Hope you guys are well."

Johnny murmured from beside him. "Forgot aboot th' status light."

The seventh– ninth– maybe twelfth time (having lost count), it was just in time to catch you on your way out with Isla in tow.

They'd tuckered down in a shitty motel, awaiting the next word from Laswell, all four of them in one room. Gaz had been given the bed as consolation for the torn tendon in his knee, and Price had claimed the couch with nothing more than a growl about his back needing it. Thus, Ghost and Soap found themselves on the floor, the latter man tucked under his partner's arm, the other occupied with checking in on the porch feed. The time difference made it so that it was midday where you were.

You were dressed – and Simon recalls it as clearly as the day you met – in a green wrap skirt and tulip hat, their darling girl in a shade of pink that complimented its petals, sat on your hip as you struggled with her buggy. They forgot to give you the run down on unfolding it before they left, too overwhelmed with everything else to pay mind to the little things.

Johnny had jumped for the two-way talk function immediately, tapping on the little mic before clearing his throat.

"There's a latch under th' left arm. Flip it 'n' it shuid unfold automatically."

You jumped, pausing to face the porch cam with wide eyes. "Oh– Oh my god. Haha," Following his directions, you were able to get it open with little fuss. "that is so embarrassing. Pretend you never saw that."

Simon had his balaclava on, uncomfortable with going bare-faced in an unfamiliar room, but Johnny still felt the soft smile splitting his cheeks. Its warmth was unmistakable.

"Nonsense, lass. 'twas cute."

You bloomed at that, wiggling a little in place. Though the flustered moment hadn't lasted long, for Isla's mouth fell open at the recognition of her father's voice, chubby hand reaching out in its direction.

"Bldha! Pffffpp."

"That's right, baby! That's Da." You waddled closer to have her inspect the strange contraption hooked above their mailbox, turning your attention back to them. "We're going on a narration walk! Isla's gotten so good at recognising animals because of them. But it was so nice to hear from you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Gah!"

Simon locked the phone when neither of them could muster a response, emotion rushing their throats like white-river rapids. Hot tears seep into his side, a pair of misty eyes buried in his ribs.

"I know. I know, Johnny. S'alright. We'll see 'er again soon."

Now, he's made good on his promise.

All three rogue missiles located and dismantled in record time, meaning their slimy target could no longer use them as a shield. He'd been in shackles within the next day, wrangled somewhere in Istanbul and shipped off to a maximum security prison in The Hague. The task force left no loose thread untugged, which took an extra day but will be worth it in the long run. Price promises to reward them with a round, on him.

They're on their way back to base when Johnny tunes in a final time.

He's sure that Isla is asleep by now, confirmed by the baby monitor that focuses on the sprawled form in her cot. It would be best to exit the app and doze off like the other men – lord knows he needs it – but he can't help the itch to look for you too. To click through every channel, his curiosity unquenched, until–

Ah. There.

On the couch, bare legs stretched out along its length. A throw blanket tangled between them, one bent at the knee to support the book you're currently fingering through. The sight alone is enough to make him salivate.

But then he notices the thin material of your top.

Practically translucent. No doubt made for bed. You aren't wearing a bra, either, and the darker shade of your nipples practically flaunts itself through the fabric. They're too soft to protrude and cast a shadow on your breasts, but he's still able to get a good impression of what you would look like nude. Some part of him wilts with guilt at the shameless voyeurism he's subjecting you to.

Another part sends blood to the weight between his legs.

"Bleedin' Christ."

"Hm?" Simon grunts, disturbed by the restless pace of Johnny's heart. His head lifts off his shoulder, blinking warily to clear the silky gossamer of sleep threading his eyelids, before focusing on the grainy footage on his partner's screen.

"Ghost." He whines, hips bucking in desperation when the larger man does nothing. They haven't had the chance to relieve themselves since that night at the motel, and even then it had been a messy frotting as they tried not to disturb their sleeping comrades.

"A'right. Off to the bathroom with you, then."

He doesn't turn off of the live feed even as they cram into the compact space. Though he should. He needs to. Not because you're aware of their surveillance – you're far too engrossed in your book to pay mind to the blinking red light on the nanny cam. But because only depraved men gets off to unsuspecting hens, especially the ones they hired in good faith to take care of their child while they're away.

It's a dirty, dirty thrill that roars through him as Simon wraps an arm around his waist, palming his hard-on through his trousers. And it's a dirty thrill he wants no part of.

"Practically leakin' in your pants, boy. First time you see a pair of tits?" In the small mirror before him, he watches his pants get pulled down past his ass, underwear stained a deeper swatch of blue where his tip spits prespend.

It might as well be the first time, way he's humping Simon's hand like an over-eager mutt. Though he can't manage to choke it out through the rough groans pressing his vocal chords. Instead, what escapes him is a pathetic mess of trembling letters. "S'not... fookin, not– not–"

"Shhh, it's okay. She's jus' so pretty, yeah? Can't help but chub up and beg me to rub your aching cock, wishing it was her darlin' hand wrapped 'round you instead. I know."

"Nn, nae, Sim- Si– I wouid never... Ah!"

It's dry. A little raw. He makes no effort to lube his calloused palm to help it glide easier along Johnny's length, but he knows his boy better than he knows himself sometimes. That he needs pain when he's doing something bad like this, or else he'll lose himself to the guilt. A little bit of penance for the Catholic.

"Don' lie to me. Y'can't. But tha's alright," He pulls the foreskin off the head of his uncut mass, kneading a bit into his frenulum to watch the way white oozes against red. "I think about it too."

"A-Aye?"

"Hm. Think 'bout ya swallowing my cock while I sit 'er on my face. Bet she tastes sweet, like nectar. Jus' look at the thing." Which he does. You're seated a bit differently than you had been before. Less liberal. Wound up tight, with your nose buried in your book and your toes curled beneath your feet. Surely captured by some tense plot line or the other. "Would make you clean her cunt after I pump 'er full. Or vice versa, if she's into tha'."

"Yer a-aff yer heid... Fuck, I cannae–"

"That's it, Johnny. Let go, boy." Simon's strokes keep at the top, tugging in short, rough movements over the phone. The blanket now covers you fully, but it's no matter. The image of your breasts are now seared into both their minds, an array of fantasies unfurling before them, each nastier than the last. "Jus' like that."

Thick ropes of cum streak over the screen and sink countertop. It's weeks worth of pent up frustration, a culmination of despair and desire as a stuttered moan claws up Johnny's throat. The hand leaves his cock only when he starts shooting blanks, clenching tight at the overstimulation.

Simon makes him lick the mess off his palm.

(And unbeknownst to them, they'd hit the mic on their way to the bathroom.

You'd heard the whole thing.)

[genderqueerdykes]

here's a tip for folks who want to come out to their parents, friends, or another authority figure but are afraid they'll get talked out of it:

when approaching them about it, your phrasing should be "[recipient], I'm going to start estrogen," instead of "[recipient], i think i want to start estrogen." Replace estrogen with whatever your personal need is, testosterone, wearing different clothing, going by different pronouns, different names, different identities, whatever else you need to change.

phrasing things like "Mom, I'm actually a guy, I need to be referred to as [name, pronouns, etc.]" instead of "I think I'm a guy, I think I want to use [pronouns, name, etc.]" makes you sound far more confident and assertive. there's less ground for the other person to attempt to brick wall you and immediately start questioning you and talking down to you, questioning if you really know what you're talking about.

the unease in the introduction of the concept is what gives them the platform to start biting from. if you start from the get-go with confidence, it makes the other person less willing to immediately challenge you. this works for other queer identities outside of transness, obviously. being assertive about being asexual, aromantic, polyamorous, non binary, and other identities that are harder for people to accept can actually help boost the credibility of it in some people's minds, because you KNOW this is what you are, not what you Think you are.

the distinction is small but powerful. don't say "my preferred pronouns/name", say "these are my pronouns/name." try to close the gap as much as possible so they don't have wiggle room to play with doubt.

i didn't tell my mom or sister until i had gotten my appointment to start T. i was already in the process of doing it when i fully came out to them. i told them "mom, [sister], I'm a trans guy, I'm starting testosterone, I use this name now, and these pronouns." and their responses were something to the tune of

"we kinda figured that things would play out that way."

i'm not saying this will make everyone instantly accept you. it can make some people defensive. my sister still misgenders me and deadnames me to this day. not everyone will accept it easier but most people will. it takes them aback for a second. it forces them to think about how they're powerless to stop you for a bit, because it's already in motion.

it's a little tip, but it goes a long way. good luck coming out, i wish you safety and receptive ears.

[halfwayhearted]

Real Love Is A Hard Attack — S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: It takes an accident for him to realize just how deep your feelings for him are.

Word Count: 1.1K+

Disclaimer/s — Gunshot mention, slight violence, a little angst (?), OOC Spencer perhaps, and no use of Y/N! I think that’s it.

A/N: Clearing out the drafts, requests always welcomed… hey… 🤍… Also I noticed I made the reader ask a lot of questions and then continue asking after he said he was fine, so… sorry! :3

Searching the entire bottom floor of the building, you feel the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand the longer you continue to look. Like they’re about to just up and vanish off of you. This place was quiet, too quiet, eerily quiet.

…

You get the point.

You, Reid, and Morgan were the first to walk in along with a couple SWAT officers, but when you had gotten nothing on the device used to communicate with them, you made your way up the stairs, that’s where they were. Where they were supposed to be. But, were they?

Hotch’s instructions were clear: 'Move in, keep silent, stay vigilant.' His anxiety was palpable to anyone within a five-mile radius. This UnSub operated with extreme precision, to an extraordinary degree. The Ohio PD had almost caught and locked him away previously; had they only been aware of his premeditated escape strategy and his precise timing for executing it.

Being careful as to not make a single sound with each step you take, you raised your gun and walked forward. God, the hallway was long. So long. The amount of horror movie vibes you got was enough to make your skin crawl.

Reaching the corner, you’re just about to round it when a gunshot sounds throughout the building. The echo making your ears ring. Morgan. Reid.

Focused solely on them and them only, you hasten ahead, oblivious to the looming shadow. Suddenly, rough hands shove you against the wall, causing your head to snap back and meet the brick surface. As you gather yourself, you witness the figure sprinting down the corridor, pursued closely by Morgan and the SWAT team.

No Reid, no Reid, no Reid, you repeated in your mind as you shook your head to dispel the dizziness, to no avail of course, yet it didn't prevent you from trying to reach him. As your vision gradually returned, you spotted Reid on the floor, propped uncomfortably close to the wall.

No, no, no.

“Spencer!” You cried out, dropping to your knees next to him. Your eyes scanning over his body for any signs of blood, leaning over him, you continue to search for anything. Nothing. Search harder!

That’s when your gaze lands on the bullet lodged into his vest, with a sharp inhale, you carefully unclasp the Kevlar vest and throw it aside. Check his pulse, what are you doing? You needed to calm down, you know you did. But this was Spencer. The man you’d—now, hold on a minute.

Focus.

Placing two fingers to his neck, you just about cheered at the sound of his heartbeat. It was racing, but it was there.

“Agent down, medical assistance possibly required.” You say shakily into the device strapped to the collar of your own vest, breathless.

“Reid,” your voice is quiet as you move your other hand to pat his cheek, “Spencer.”

Hearing his groan sounded like a melodic tune to your ears, you leaned forward and rested your head slightly on his stomach before looking up at him, you knew he was fine, but it didn’t stop the complete and utter relief you felt at hearing anything but the mans silence.

You rested a hand on his arm, “Hey, hey, easy. Are you in pain? Hurting? Talk to me.”

“UnSub is down and apprehended,” Rossi’s voice rings through your ears, and no doubt Spencer’s when you see him flinch, “Medicals almost here.”

“Fine,” he croaks out, “I’m fine.”

Nodding your head, not sure if he was trying to convince you or himself, you slowly helped him lean forward. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

“I’m not… I’m not hurt.”

That wasn’t really my question, was what you wanted to say, but decided it was… best not to mention it. “Can you stand? Do you want to stand?” You ask, looking at him with a gaze so soft he wanted nothing more than to just sit there and stare. “Reid—come on, grab my hand.”

Holding out your hand, he hesitantly grabbed ahold of it and hoisted himself up. Letting out a groan as he leaned against a random desk.

“Are you okay?” The second time you’ve asked.

“Stop,” he rasped, “I’m okay. I promise.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, your eyes scanning over his figure once more. “You were shot, Spencer,” you paused, then added, “Let’s get you downstairs, yeah?”

With a nod, he moved toward the door and stumbled. That there was enough to tell you that calling for medical was the right decision. You quickly stood beside him, took his hand, and used it to drape his arm over your shoulder.

After reaching the last stair, Hotch looked up at the two of you, “The ambulance is out front. What happened? Are you okay?”

“He was shot—it hit the vest,” you answered.

Just then, Emily and Morgan walked in, their expressions etched with worry as they helped you both the rest of the way. Emily's eyes soon widened in alarm when she noticed something, “Hey, are you okay? Your head—” It’s bleeding.

Your head? Oh, your head. You'd almost forgotten the searing pain from being literally shoved against a brick wall.

The paramedics guide Reid to sit on the back of the ambulance, they start performing all the necessary checks, fearing the bullet might have caused unseen damage despite hitting the vest.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but trip over your own feet before even attempting to respond to Emily's question. This prompted the other paramedic to look at you with concern, “Ma'am, are you alright?”

Looking over at him, you stammered, “I, uh, I hit my head.”

That made Spencer snap his gaze toward you, eyes wide with panic and confusion. You had hit your head, probably got a concussion, and yet you were still there, helping him. Why?

Hearing that made her partner rush to your side, directing you to a seat with a sense of urgency as he quickly checked your condition.

He furrowed his brows deeply, casting a glance over at Morgan, who was casually leaning against the ambulance. Morgan's eyes roamed over his features while he tilted his head slightly and said with a gentle yet probing tone, “Spill it, kid.”

“She has a concussion,” he murmured, “And she was helping me.” Again, why?

The man let out a sigh, saying, “You might be a genius, but sometimes you can be anything but.” With those words lingering in the air, he strolled over to where you were sitting, ruffling your hair and laughing when you swatted at his hands.

You might be a genius, but sometimes you can be anything but.

What did that even mean?

Well, he knew what it meant. The real question was what steps could he take to act on it. Because if there was one thing he was certain of…

It was that he felt the same way.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | better now

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 summary: 3.9k words, a snippet of a day in the life of husband! joel and his lovely housewife | no apocalypse au, no use of y/n warnings: 18+ MDNI! pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, cum play, spit kink, exhibition kink, dirty talk, pet names for reader, brief mention of alcohol, generally extremely submissive reader so if you're into that this is for you! a/n: not pretending this is anything other than some little fantasy i had that i needed to write out. i'm really excited about this one shot series for husband!joel though, i have some really fun (and depraved) ideas planned for these two for future blurbs so stayed tuned if you like this one! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

i've decided to start a kofi in case anyone wants to consider a small donation to support my work! ♡

How’s my pretty little wife today?

The words you look forward to each day, falling from your husbands lips in some form or another, whether it’s rasped tenderly in your ear, from between your legs as he smirks up at you, or from over your shoulder as he slams his cock into you, sending you to heaven and back down as soon as he can after walking in the door after work.  

Joel asks the question today after walking up behind you in the backyard, his mouth already next to your ear, warm breath tickling along your skin there as he brushes your hair over your shoulder. The wiry texture of his beard nuzzles right into your neck, sending a thrill down your spine as his arms slide around your waist and hold you tightly to him, swaying you back and forth. The motion is soothing, reminding you that you’re right where you’re meant to be.  

You can smell the workday on him - sweat and dirt and the outdoors, and the lingering scent of the cologne you’d given him this past Christmas. He’d sprayed it on this morning, as he does every morning since you bought it for him. Makes me think of you all day, he’d remind you while you’d watched from your bed with a teasing smile, sheet disheveled and draped over your naked body.

You breathe all of it in, savoring this scent unique to your husband, before touching your hand to where his rests around your belly and stroking it gently.

“Better now,” you answer. More times than not, that’s your response to his routine question, knowing it drives him wild, makes a long day of work ache a little less when he hears you say it.

“S’what I like to hear,” he says, a kiss on your neck leading up to your lips - a long, deep, ravenous kiss that already leaves you breathless. He pulls away so suddenly you nearly have whiplash, your head falling slightly into nothing, missing his lips.

“Smells good out here,” Joel comments, turning his nose up in the air slightly. “Usin’ the new pizza oven already?” 

When you’d made a passing comment about wishing you could make wood fired pizzas at home, just like the ones a restaurant in town serves, Joel seemed to take it seriously, as he did with most things involving your wishes and desires. The next weekend, he’d hauled in bricks and began his work. You’d stepped out into the yard when you heard all the commotion, giving him a quizzical stare, and he’d simply grinned and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he should be building his wife a pizza oven. You’d nearly teared up, feeling grateful and giddy with excitement at your new toy to experiment with. 

Within a few weekends, Joel had finished his new project, always seeming to need one to have around the house, wiping the sweat off his forehead and gleaming with pride at it as he showed you the final product. You’d practically jumped for joy but settled on flinging yourself into his arms to show your appreciation. When that had turned into him fucking you on top of the kitchen counter moments later after he went inside to fetch a cold drink, you hadn’t minded one bit.

“I couldn’t wait,” you say with a grin. When Joel nuzzles your neck again you start to lose your train of thought. His lips press a gentle kiss right on your pulse point, and you sigh into it. “T-trying out margherita today,” you manage to squeak out.

“Hmm,” Joel says, seemingly contemplating the flavor choice in between latching his lips on your neck and sucking, marking you over and over. You’re sure the ones from mere days ago haven’t faded all the way, a smattering of them going right down to your tits, but Joel always needs a fresh mark on you as soon as they start to fade, a way for you to always remember you’re his. He grinds his hard length into your back on the next touch of his lips, and you arch into it a little, your cunt starting to ache more needily for him. 

“F-fresh basil… from the… gar-” you gasp as he pulls you completely flush against his cock, letting out a little, devious laugh.

“Sounds fuckin’ delicious, baby,” he replies. His fingers reach down and toy with the front hem of your dress, delicately sliding his calloused fingers up your thighs, bunching the fabric as he goes. The warmth of his hands on your bare skin blazes a trail up to the apex of your thighs, finally cupping a hand around your warm heat. You instinctively grind into the heel of his hand, and can practically feel Joel smirking behind you. His fingers brush the outside of your panties, starting to rub circles on the wet fabric. He lets out a low growl, deep and needy in the back of his throat feeling the evidence of how much you’d anticipated him coming home. 

“So wet for me already, huh, doll? Couldn’t wait f’me to get home ‘n take care of ya, I bet,” Joel taunts in your ear before sucking on the lobe, and you’ve gone breathless now, nodding your head. His fingers tease the edge of your panties again, finally slipping one underneath the fabric, feeling the obscenity of your wetness directly, and he lets out an impressed tut, sucking in air between his teeth. You nearly moan out at the smallest touch he’s giving you, the way his rough, worn fingers gently brush over your clit for just a split second. 

“She’s so needy, ain’t she?” Joel coos in your ear, swiping a finger to your entrance and back to your clit. You can feel how slickness quickly gathers on Joel’s digits as he teases you. You squeeze your eyes shut and lean back into him, letting your head drop to his shoulder as pleasure wracks your body already.

“Mhm… needs you,” you murmur, turning your head towards his where he meets your lips, continuing steady strokes on your aching bundle of nerves. His lips are softer than you’d think, looking at the hardened grump behind them, but like so many parts of Joel, they are only soft for you.

“Needy, needy girl… good thing I’ve been thinkin’ about gettin’ my cock in that little cunt of yours all day.”

“A-all day?” you say with a little smirk, rutting your ass back into his throbbing length, and Joel groans with the friction.

“Second I pulled out of it this mornin’,” he replies, low voice drumming against your skin, and you shudder, desperate for what you know he’s about to do.

Another routine of yours - Joel comes home from work, and more days than not, he fucks you. And you enjoy every second of it, basking in the attention and his cock filling you up in the way nobody and nothing else can. You crave him night and day, never having gotten your fill, wondering if you ever could. His hunger for you in return only fuels the fire, a vicious circle the two of you seem to have no intention of breaking.

Your weakness lies completely in the man standing behind you, burying his fingers in between your legs and making you moan out wildly before he’s even had his way with you.

“Fuck, gotta get this cock in you, baby, split you open f’me so good, fuck you stupid,” Joel grunts suddenly, interrupting your swirling thoughts, withdrawing his fingers in a flash and leaving you whimpering. It’s not fair, the way he affects you. 

Nobody should have this power over you, but the minute you’d met Joel, you couldn’t deny the way he’d made you feel. Masculine and warm, rough hands and broad shoulders that you’d clung to that same night you’d met him in a bar, fucking mere hours later in the bathroom. Even in your drunken haze you’d submitted to him fully, Joel having no problem ordering and throwing you around the bathroom like you were just a toy to play with, his little doll. You’d found that you could never look back after that night, the safety he represented to you, the adoration he showered you with, the way he fucked you like it was his last time every time. When Joel saw how willing you were to be his in the way he craved from a woman, there was no stopping the insatiable beast he became, hellbent on never letting another man feel your touch again. Joel promised you a good life, an amazing life, even, and in the last few years, he had more than delivered for you. 

“Hush now, you’ll have what you want in a second,” he says, running a quick stroke of his fingers through your hair, giving it a tug. On principle, you let out a little mewl at the sensation, too many instances of your hair being tugged and pulled with Joel involved to not recall those memories with the pain of it. You hear the jangle of his belt as he frees himself from his jeans, the familiar sound of Joel’s thick, heavy cock slapping against his hand as he fists it. You’re already cock drunk without having seen the damn thing yet, and it’s nearly laughable how pliable you are when Joel’s involved. It’s always been that way - you’ve been happy to oblige his every desire, no matter when, where, how he wanted it, or the frequency. You were his to use, to pleasure, to fuck senseless, and you got off on the way all of it steadily built his need for you just as much as it did with your need for him.

“Please…” you whine, trying to slip out of his grasp and start for the sliding glass door to the house, making the assumption that he’d be taking you inside at any moment to take what he needed from you. 

Joel immediately tightens his hold on you, a dark tut in your ear that goes straight to your clit.

“Not so fast, little doll,” he croons, hand grabbing your cunt through your dress again to hold you to him. “Right here,” he adds on, turning your body towards the outdoor dining table in the backyard. 

“J-Joel… right here?” you question, knowing you shouldn’t. It won’t matter anyways. “The… t-the neighbors…” you whimper quietly as Joel crowds you against the table, tearing your dress up over your ass, revealing your lacy little thong to him. He groans at the sight of your bare ass ready for him to claim before roughly shimmying your underwear halfway down your thighs. He places a rough hand on your back, pressing you down into the table so that you’re completely bent over, your hands splaying out into the wood to support yourself. 

“Let them see…” Joel says quietly, a heady murmur as he slips his cock between your thighs and notches himself at your weeping entrance. “Let them see how much I love fuckin’ my wife.” He pushes in on the last sentence, and you gasp at the stretch and burn of his girth. Your vision goes white for a moment with the mix of pure pain and pleasure, and your mouth hangs open, panting in delight as he fills you inch by inch. 

“Mmm… such a sweet little pussy, honey…” Joel says quietly once he’s seated fully inside of you. He’s just as lost in the bliss of it as you are. “Know I’d fuckin’ live right here if I could.”

You give him a little moan of satisfaction, wiggling your hips to give yourself any sensation of movement from his cock. He places his hands on either side of your hips, squeezing his grip tightly enough to bruise before starting to thrust himself into you. You cry out in a yelp, the noise passing though your lips before you can even control it. 

“Yeah…” you whimper, face pressed against the table, trying to peek up as Joel looms above you, like some higher being that has the power to decide your fate, to decide the pleasure or pain you’ll have to endure in this moment. And truthfully, you do worship him. The way he moves inside of you, makes you crumble underneath even the lightest of his touches. The way he spoils you in every regard - you’ve never wanted for a single thing for as long as you’ve been Joel’s, him vowing to take care of everything you ever need, and in return, you take care of everything he needs. 

To some, it might seem like there’s a lack of balance in the way you do things, but fuck do you love it, you think as you desperately cling onto the table, manicured nails digging into the wood as Joel’s cock rams back into you, pressing so deep inside of you that you see stars.

You let out a low, strangled sound, whining as Joel begins to press against your cervix, the front of your thighs bumping into the table with every new thrust from him. He grunts with the exertion, fucking into you hard, taking what he wants, leaving you both breathless with the need for more of each other. You let Joel take and take and take because of how much he gives in return - while he loves to use you, he always makes sure you get every bit of pleasure you deserve for being so good to him.

When you continuously moan louder as Joel fucks you towards your high, you glance around, the small sliver of your brain that’s still rational worried about you two getting caught by your neighbors. The thought is equally mortifying as it is thrilling, but you decide you’d rather not deal with the embarrassment today if you can help it.

“Still worried about the neighbors, hm, pretty girl? I’ve got an idea,” Joel says, responding to your sudden nervousness. Before you can even answer, his hands are wrapping around your shoulders, urging you up from the table. You follow along, breathless and dazed, letting him move you as he wishes, too deliriously starry eyed for him to care about anything else other than what Joel is gearing up to do to you next.

He accidentally slides out with the movement of your body, and immediately he’s grasping at your hips, practically clawing his way back to you as he pulls you tight to his body again. His throbbing, dripping cock slaps periodically against your ass as he shoves you forward, pushing your body towards the house. 

“Here,” he grits out, suddenly crowding your body from behind to press you against the sliding glass door. “That better?”

“I- yes,” you say, eyes wide from the way you’d been roughly handled by him the last few moments. Your cunt aches almost painfully, having been getting so close to your climax only to have it ripped away suddenly when Joel decided to move you.

“Good,” he snips quietly. “Couldn’t stand to keep this cock out of you much longer’n this.”

With his words he brings his lips to the back of your neck again, just his heavy breathing fanning across the skin there, making you wild as he repositions himself and nudges your legs apart with his knee. You feel the length of him tease between your legs, sliding up to your entrance again. He groans loudly, letting you know how badly he wants you, so you try to pop your hips up at just the right angle you know he’s looking for. 

He slides in effortlessly and with a renewed vigor, hips snapping into you, pressing you further into the sliding glass door with neither of you seeming to be worried about the way it’s suddenly shaking on the frame. It’s completely lewd, the way you imagine the two of you - your entire body against glass, tits being pressed out the top of your dress and bouncing, palms spread against the smooth surface, nails clawing and unable to grasp at anything.

Your body is shaking in his hold now, Joel’s cock hitting inside of you in all the right places. You can feel yourself tensing, almost like every cell is going taut, your core pooling heat deep inside of you with molten pleasure from Joel hitting the spongy bit inside of you. 

“Fuck, love it when you sound like that f’me, doll,” Joel punches out as he hears your moans becoming louder and more desperate the longer he continues to thrust against your g-spot. You can’t respond, only continue your lustful noises with a renewed vigor as you try to bounce your hips back into his thrusts, getting him deeper than what’s even possible, the length of him already burying up to the hilt each time he drives himself into you.

“Know you wanna come for me, baby,” he says right in your ear, voice hoarse with need, and you whimper in response as his hand snakes around your hips and in between your legs, circling a gentle pressure on your clit. 

You feel your hold on reality completely break, your eyes squeezing shut as you melt into the way your entire body is tingling with pleasure now, waves of it turning into spasms as you go practically limp with shaky knees. Joel’s hands hold you in place, his warm strength keeping you upright as you push down onto his cock, riding out your climax and screaming for him. 

When your movements start to slow and your body relaxes, Joel thrusts into you even harder, loving the way you’re so compliant and soft after climaxing, letting him move in you however he needs as you ride out the sensitive aftershocks with a few quiet yelps.

“This little pussy is all mine, y’know that, right?” Joel reminds you through clenched teeth, giving your ass a firm slap. You nod vigorously, eyes still half lidded and mind scrambled from the way he’d shattered you mere moments ago.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you say when he slaps your ass again, demanding an answer. Your breathy answer is enough to get him to his own climax, and he surprises you by pulling out suddenly, leaving your body lurching back into nothing, missing the fullness of him already. Before you can protest, say anything, Joel’s hands grip your shoulders and spin you around and push down, forcing you onto your knees in one fluid, swift motion. You watch, wide eyed, as he fists his throbbing cock, shiny and coated in your own slick arousal as he spreads it along his shaft in jerking motions.

“Be a good girl and open up,” he commands, and you submit to the words immediately, mouth hanging open, even sticking your tongue out for good measure. Joel smirks at that before giving himself another swift tug, and you watch in renewed wonder as he begins to spill himself all over your face, ropes of cum hitting your skin. You taste him on your tongue immediately, savoring it. Your eyes are glued up on Joel’s face, watching his glazed gaze taking in the scene below him as he groans in pleasure, trying not to tilt his head back and get lost in the moment so he doesn’t miss a beat of your beautiful surrender to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he watches the last bits of his release hit your tongue. “Don’t you dare swallow that, yet, doll,” he adds on quickly, eyes fluttering for a moment before he tucks himself back into his slacks. He continues to tower over you for a prolonged few seconds, looking down in satisfaction at the image of your glowing, angelic face coated in something so sinful, the milky substance starting to drip down your face, your tongue trembling slightly with the need to swallow.

“Hold still,” he says needlessly since as the words come out of his mouth he grabs your chin, tilting your head upwards and gathering spit, letting a long, tortuously slow drip of it fall into your open mouth. It lands on your tongue, combining with his cum and Joel smirks again, releasing your chin.

“Swallow, my little doll,” he says, voice starting to go soft, an indication that he’s feeling satisfied and finished with his enjoyment of you. You close your mouth, smile, and swallow obviously for him, licking your lips for good measure. 

Joel holds out a hand, helping you stand, your legs buckling slightly as you try to get your bearings. He carefully smooths your disheveled dress, flattening the bottom half and tugging the neckline back into place before fixing the straps to sit perfectly square on your shoulders, eyes roaming over quickly to examine his work with pride. His hands then move to your hair, brushing his fingers gently to put it back in its place, leaving every part of you like none of this had just happened besides your face, still dripping with his spill. Your smile widens, seeing him watch a particularly large spot of it sliding down your cheek. You see his composure fail for a moment before he strokes your cheek gently, avoiding any of the mess there, giving you soft, affectionate eyes.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Pizza’s probably ready,” he adds on, the casual tone taking you aback for only a moment before you blink yourself back to reality and nod dutifully.

“Of course,” you say, a genuine smile plastered on your face as you look at your handsome husband, admiring the way he’s looking at you with stars dancing across his eyes, the deepest love for you tucked away in his deep brown irises.

“After you get that, go clean yourself up, doll,” he says, and you nod again, the smile not leaving your face. You see out of the corner of your eye Joel settle onto one of the chairs at your outdoor table, leaning back casually as if he hadn’t just had you bent over that exact table, fucking you for the entire neighborhood to possibly see and hear.

You gather everything you need, serving utensils, plates, and two cold beers before bringing it to the table along with the pizza and a freshly tossed salad you’d made to accompany it. Each time you drop something off, the smirk on Joel’s face grows, watching the way you work with the evidence of his obsession with you still lingering on your flushed cheeks.

Once the table is set and your face cleaned off, you join Joel outside to enjoy the beautiful spring evening, and see he’s already served you two generous slices of the margherita pizza. 

He reaches a hand onto the table, taking yours delicately into his palm, dwarfing it with the size of his thick fingers as he absentmindedly runs his thumb along your knuckles, stopping to play with the large, gorgeous diamond on your ring finger. Another reminder to him that he has you all to himself, his pretty little wife.

“Thanks for dinner, baby” he says, eyes locked on yours as he uses a free hand to pick up the pizza and take a large bite, letting out a little noise in satisfaction at the flavor.

“Anytime.” You smile, genuine and tranquil, a fresh appreciation and love for the life you’ve found yourself so grateful to be living.

tysm to @jupiter-soups @huffle-punk @rensraptor for so much help with ideas and writing this fic! love u guys x

[rafeandonlyrafe]

never truly gone

words: 2k

alternative universe where rafe was the one to fake his death instead of ward

warnings: funeral, discussions of death and grief, established relationship, murder confession (canon murder), implications of smut (no actual sex)

you are barely tuned in to the words being spoken at the funeral, lost in the haze of grief. dressed in the same outfit you wore for your one year anniversary with rafe. it was his favorite. was. the word hits you like a ton of bricks.

it didn't feel real for the longest time, part of it still doesn't, the feeling in your gut that your boyfriend isn't truly gone, but as you pick your head up and look around, you realize you have to get over the stage of denial.

“are you okay?” your mom whispers, reaching over to squeeze your hand. you rip it immediately out of her grip. of course you're not okay. who could be after their first love, their high school sweetheart, blew up?

“now is the time that we invite anyone who would like to say a few words up to the mic.” the pastor says, looking out into the crowd, members of rafes family having already spoken.

ward turns around to look at you. he invited you to sit in the front row when you first arrived, but you didn't want that kind of attention, your every reaction being scrutinized, if you’re crying too much, or not reacting enough.

“would you like to speak y/n?” 

you look at the crumpled, tear stained piece of paper with some words scribbled on it.

“i-i don't know if i can.” you admit. ward seemed so strong when he spoke, the same pillar of community he seems to be when speaking at town halls or midsummers.

“whatever you say, im sure rafe would appreciate it.”

you nod, take a deep breath, then stand. your mind seems to blur as you walk to the front, the pastor greeting you with a soft hug then leading you to the podium.

you clear your throat before looking down at the paper. 

“i never imagined a life without you. you were the first man i ever loved and i can't… i can't see myself ever having that same love again. we changed each other so much. we went from kids to young adults planning out their life together. i love you so much, rafe. i always will no matter how much time passes.” you vow.

your next words turn robotic, talking about the family he left behind, his accomplishments, things that don't actually matter to you but you know should be said. you recount the five years you were together, knowing someone is no doubt scoffing at how little it is, but it was your whole world.

you manage to hold in your sobs until you sit back down. you spend the rest of the funeral with your head down, unable to look at the pictures hung around the church.

-- 2 months later --

you let out a groan as you turn over in bed, not wanting to wake up, wanting to spend another day rotting under the covers.

“it's almost noon.” your mom says, peaking in to the door.

“yeah.” you say, sniffling as you see the photo on your nightstand when you go to look at your alarm clock. you can't bring yourself to move it, even if it makes you cry every time you see rafes smiling face. “i know.”

“maybe we could go out to dinner. or order some pizza? you need to eat, baby.” you know your mom is just looking out for you, but the thought of food makes you feel sick, eating at this point when your stomach truly needs it.

“yeah, maybe.” you pick your phone up off the nightstand and unplug it. “im gonna take a shower and get dressed.”

“that's good.” your mom says. “i love you, y/n.”

“love you too mama.” you pause for a beat when she doesn't shut your door. “thank you.”

you mom nods before exiting. you open up your phone to the gallery that causes you as much pain as it has joy, flicking through your final photos with rafe before sighing and getting up to shower with him fresh in your mind, determined to not forget a single thing about him.

--

you're about to go to sleep, pass out and hopefully not dream of anything. you went out for dinner like you promised your mom, trying to keep a brave face for her. she didn't even mention anything when you came back from an extended trip to the bathroom with tear stains on your cheeks and red eyes.

you grab your phone, swallowing harshly to stop yourself from crying again as you click on your messages, rafes contact still pinned to the top. 

you click on your messages. the last text was rafe saying he loved you. you never got to text him back, but you know he was aware of how much you loved him.

you scroll back for a bit, smiling at his jokes even with the tears in your eyes.

you lock your phone and place it on your chest, looking up at the glittering stars through your skylight. “i miss you so much, rafe. why'd you have to leave me?”

your phone vibrates. you almost ignore it, not caring who it could be from, you've practically ditched all your friends, hoping they won't hold it against you when you finally feel good enough to hang out again, if that time ever comes.

something in you makes you pause when you go to plug your phone in, makes you hesitate and open up the text.

baby, im so sorry. please meet me outside, im at your dock.

love, rafe

you frown at the text from the unknown number, considering ignoring the obvious prank as you fling off your covers, body now fueled with rafe, but when you look out the window, there is an unfamiliar boat tied to your dock.

you slip on your shoes, not really thinking of a plan as you head outside, rushing through the yard to find out whoever is playing tricks on you.

the moon barely lights your steps as you stomp down the wooden dock until you're close enough from the boat for them to hear you and far enough from your house to not wake up your mom.

“this isn't fucking funny!” you scream. “whoever is pranking me, you're fucked up!”

a figure steps out of the boat and onto your dock. it takes your eyes a second to adjust, to really take in what you're seeing, to know it's reality.

“n-no.” you take a staggering step back. “im-im seeing things.”

“it's really me, baby.” the word hits you like a bullet as you fall to your knees, not caring that they dig into the wood. “i can explain everything but-but can i touch you? ive missed you so goddamn much.”

“this isn't real. you're- you're dead. im dreaming.”

rafe moves closer, dropping to his knees as well and pulling you into a tight hug. it isn't until he touches you that you know that it's not a dream, hes real and warm against you.

“oh, god.” you begin to sob, clutching onto rafe, clambering closer to him, climbing onto his lap and hugging him so tightly it's like your bodies could become one.

“im so fucking sorry baby. i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you.” you sob, pulling back to look rafe in the eye. “i-i love you and you can never leave me again.”

you'll demand answers later, but now you're just happy your initial gut instinct was right, your boyfriend is right here, alive and well.

“can i kiss you? you're probably pissed at me but-”

you don't wait for rafe to finishing, surging forward and smashing your lips against his, all the passion and feelings of the past two months without him, but also the past five years of love, put into your bodies as you kiss under the moonlight.

“baby-” rafe gasps after a minute. “i-i need to get back on the boat. just in case i’m seen. come with me.”

“okay.” you're not sure what it means, but you're not going to let rafe out of your sight.

rafe climbs onto the boat before helping you, hand carefully stroking over yours as he leads you into the cabin.

“did you tell anyone that i messaged you?” he asks, sitting down on the bed and pulling you to his side.

“no.” you shake your head. “my mom doesn't even know.”

“that's good.” rafe nods. “i faked my death.”

“i can tell.” you giggle, unable to keep away for much longer as you press your lips against his in a quick peck before curiosity has your tongue loosening. “how? why?”

“my dad planned it for me. the boat was rigged to explode and i went and suited up in scuba gear. the why…” rafe hesitates for a moment, and you can read every emotion on his face.

“just tell me.” you say. “you can't hurt me. you can't make me mad at you, not when i just got you back.”

“i killed sheriff peterkin.” rafe swallows harshly. “it was to protect my dad, but of course nobody would believe me.”

“i believe you.” you tell rafe, tucking your head into his neck. “that must have been so scary, but i know how you'd do anything to protect the people you love.”

“my dad didn't want me to tell you at all. i agreed to wait until after it happened, but it all moved so fast, and when i got to where i was supposed to hide out for a while, i realized i had no way of contacting you. i had to steal a phone and this boat and leave the safehouse.”

“what's the plan now then?” you ask.

“have you come back to the safehouse with me. it's in the caribbean, on a gorgeous island. i will provide everything you need, we won't have to hide there.”

“and what will i tell my family? tell everyone?”

“well, your mom loves me.” rafe smiles, knowing he's right. “i think we can trust her to keep the secret. as for everyone else… maybe you just need some time away from the outer banks after what happened. maybe some cousins in michigan or something?”

“whatever.” you shake your head. “i just need to be with you.”

-- one week later --

“when you said safe house…” you look around the mansion. “this is not what i was picturing.”

“the locals here think im a cousin of the cameron family. allows me to stay here without much suspicion. i do keep a low profile and stay out of touristy areas just in case, but we can do whatever you want here. the ocean is right outside our doorstep.”

“and money? do i need to get a job?” you've never worked before, having grown up wealthy, but you're willing to do anything to keep your life going with rafe, having told your mom who didn't believe you until rafe stepped into the room. she saw the spark in your eyes and recognized it as the same one in hers when she looked at your father, and her time was also cut short when he passed young.

she made you promise to call and to let her visit every couple months, just enough to not be suspicious.

“no.” rafe shakes his head. “my dad funnels me money. cash, so no one gets suspicious.”

“honestly, i could just stay forever in the house and in the backyard.” you laugh, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“my dad will figure something out eventually, i don't expect you to hide for the rest of your life.”

“okay.” you shrug. now that you're with rafe, you don't care. you're going to be happy no matter what after feeling the pain of losing him.

“there is one more room i want to show you…” rafe picks you up, your legs slotting around his waist like nothing ever happened. 

you laugh as you kiss his neck, knowing exactly where he's taking you.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[ceilidho]

prompt: ex special forces ghost working as a “travel companion for hire” and reader hires him because she’s too nervous to go solo travelling

-

It’s not the first time you’ve been somewhere on your own, but it’s the first time you’ve realized that maybe solo trips aren’t for you. 

It’s in Germany, three drinks in and stumbling back to your hotel room, paranoia gripping you every time you pass a dark alleyway or take a right onto a deserted street. It’s the man walking your way on the same side of the street that has you stuffing your hand into your purse, clammy fingers gripped tight around your keys. 

On the flight home, you’re wiped. Beat. Finally untethered from a week’s worth of anxiety slowly reaching a boiling point. You’ve traveled on your own before, but it’s the first time you can remember being acutely aware of your vulnerability. Granted, before this trip, it’s not like you’d traveled all that much on your own, especially outside of the country. 

Ghost comes as a recommendation from a friend of a friend. You’d hemmed and hawed about the whole ordeal the Monday after getting home from your trip—working the front desk at an auto-body shop means that there’s no shortage of people to talk to. The guy picking up his car (fender bender, a wicked crack down the front that’s since been fixed) listens to you gripe with an absent look on his face, but you’ve learned to tune those out. People will listen to you even in spite of their indifference when there’s nothing else to do. 

“Y’know, I know a guy that does stuff like that,” he says, cutting you off halfway through another half-baked rant about airline fares these days. Your mouth puckers into something quizzical. Tell me more, it says without saying. “Ex-special forces. Left because of some medical thing, I think. Dunno. Anyway, he’s been all over the world—built like a brick shithouse, that one—and last I heard he was, uh, renting out his services.”

“Services?” 

“Like, he’d go with you, hang back while you do your thing, but basically the muscle. There to back you up if someone fucks with you.”

You’re just fresh enough off your vacation (an entirely miserable week, lest you explain the whole thing all over again) to give him your number. He promises to put you in touch with the friend of a friend who’ll put you in touch with one Simon Riley. He then gives you shit about the price on his bill and you knock ten percent off begrudgingly because the piece of paper with your number written on it is still crumpled in his palm.

No good deed goes unpunished or whatever.

“He’s not actually in the country right now,” Laswell, the friend of a friend, explains over coffee, Biscoff cookies spread out on a little tea plate between the two of you. “Or the continent.”

“Where is he?”

“For the rest of the month? Indonesia. He’s supposed to be back on the ninth. Should I let him know that you’re interested in his services?”

It’s a toss up at first. The thought of sacrificing your dignity (he would be more or less your babysitter) for adventure is tricky. With the way the dates line up—when you plan on traveling and when he gets back to the UK—you also won’t have much time to make his acquaintance before setting off. 

But there are places you want to go, sites you have scribbled down in a pocket-sized notepad folded up in the inner lining of your backpack. So you give her your permission and promise to join her and her wife for dinner sometime (repayment, and also it’s only been a few months since you moved, so you currently have a dearth of friends in your life anyway). 

The first time you see him when he stops by your workplace, you can’t help the double take. It just doesn’t seem possible. You know from Laswell and the guy at the body shop that Ghost is ex-military, but you’d been expecting some buzz-cut, slightly smarmy army reserves guy, maybe six-foot and decently muscled. What you don’t expect is the tatted beast that’s near twice your size. Only the top half of his face is exposed, the rest hidden beneath a black mask; you think briefly of asking him about it, but chicken out under his withering stare.

He doesn’t seem impressed when he meets you. “What’s your list?”

“Um…just around Europe. I haven’t thought about it too much.”

He stares down at you. “You wanna hire me just to run around the continent?”

“I haven’t thought about it!”

“Well, best give it a think fast, doll. Haven’t got all day for you to figure it out.”

You do have to think fast. He doesn’t leave until you’ve spelled out exactly where you want to go, until he’s watched you book plane tickets over your shoulder, heavy at your back while sweat beads at the nape of your neck. He’s entirely too intimidating to be looming over you like that. 

You watch him whip out his phone and fire off a couple of texts; your phone pings with an email telling you that you’ve been reimbursed for his flight and when you protest, he brushes you off by saying that he’ll invoice you for everything at the end of your trip.

Then what was promised falls into place. Free of burden, free of anxiety or restless energy, new possibilities open up to you: countries where you don’t speak the language; countries where the sites you want to see are spread out across a wide enough area that it warrants having a man packed beside you in a too-small taxi, his thigh a hot line against yours; hiking trips through national parks, where you don’t feel like you might slip down a hill and twist your ankle, stuck without water or cell service. 

You only have two weeks worth of vacation, so you use them wisely. A week traveling across Switzerland and Austria, and then a week in Cairo to see the pyramids. 

Ghost hangs back most of the time while you traipse around and do your own thing. You can feel him at your back when you approach the stands where the local vendors have set up shop, perusing silver trinkets and jewelry, only returning to your side when someone stands too close to you. 

He fists a hand in a pickpocket’s shirt when they try for your purse, giving them a shake and sending them off. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter in his direction as you watch the young man scurry away. Not sure if you’re blushing or sunburnt. 

“You hired me to deal with this shit my way. Don’t get mouthy now.”

You think it might be the former because while you might not be the best at reapplying sunscreen, Ghost has been gentle-parenting you this whole trip. He pulls you off into corners and growls down at you while squirting a dollop of sunscreen into the palm of his hand to spread across your face. You close your eyes when his rough hands trace over your face and breathe out heavily when he spins you around, big hands engulfing your shoulders and spreading down your back.

You don’t think it could get worse. It gets worse. 

He won’t spring for his own room. You stare at him in disbelief in the lobby of the two star hotel where you’ve booked a room with a single bed. There’s a vending machine in the corner of the lobby that only sells coke (all of the other buttons are broken). One of the ceiling lights flickers on and off, an ominous buzz filling the room. Ghost doesn’t so much as blink.

“You didn’t tell me—I didn’t know that was my job,” you rebuff, anxiety a fist in your throat. You’ve already asked the front desk for another room, but they’ve been sold out for weeks, the woman at the front desk informed you with no small amount of pity. It’s the busy season; even two-star hotels get booked up in the dog days of summer. 

He cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Never had to before. My job isn’t to book shit.”

“I sent you my itinerary.” 

“That’s not how I work, love. Where’s your room?” 

It’s nothing short of humiliating to have him follow you back to your shabby little hotel room. Your hands shake when you unlock the door, opening it to something no bigger than a closet. You’d purposefully gotten a smaller room than you usually would, anticipating the cost of Ghost's invoice at the end of your trip. No good deed goes unpunished. 

He ushers you into the room with a hand on your back, shutting the door behind him. You flick on the only light in the room, a bulbous thing hanging from the ceiling. No bedside lamp. 

When he settles on the end of the only twin bed in the room, the bedframe groans under his weight. Your hands are already clammy. He’s already making himself at home, unbuckling his belt with a single hand; it makes you almost dizzy to look over at him so you try desperately to avert your eyes.

“At least wait until I’m in the other room,” you hiss, rifling through your suitcase faster to get your clothes for after your shower. 

“Quit moping, love,” Ghost scolds, resting back on his elbows and toeing off his boots. “We’ll make it work. Just gonna have to get comfortable together.”

You scurry off to the bathroom with your pajamas clutched tight to your chest, paying no attention to the fact that he doesn’t sound as upset as you thought he might.

[fellhellion]

valvert NEEDS to win that old man yaoi poll round. get you a dude that instantly kills himself when forced to reckon with the fact that you’ve shattered his moral foundations.

[water-to-drink]

You want a request? Sure, here ya go! 😀

Back when Genshin Impact first came out, a lot of folks compared it to The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. (Some even thought Hoyoverse was directly copying Nintendo, if you can believe it) This little nugget of info was stored away in my head for some time, and now it's finally borne fruit!

SAGAU universe, bc ofc it is, where Creator!Reader would turn off the Genshin music and instead listen to Zelda tunes as they play! Nobody in Teyvat knows where these songs come from, but the Vision Holders who have heard them believe these melodies to be of holy origin. Something that connects them to their Creator, and is either shared to the masses or kept amongst themselves...a secret that only those blessed to be the Makers Vessels are to know.

If we're going the Imposter SAGAU route, it could be that our poor Creator is awaiting to be executed by the Genshin Cast. In an attempt to comfort themselves, they hum one of the songs that they love from the Zelda games (Zeldas Lullaby is always a favorite of mine personally) and the Acolytes overhear them. Whether this leads to more harm or to the Reader getting help, I'll leave that up to you.

Divine Melody

(Synopsis): After being transported to one of your favorite game you’re a accused of being an imposter but a melody changes the minds of Teyvat

(Tags/Warnings): Reader is treated as an imposter, reader almost dies, (if I missed anything lmk)

(Word Count): 770

(A/n): I remember that era, it was a ridiculous accusation to throw, and I hope this fulfills your expectations

A bright light shines in your face causing you to open your eyes

You find yourself in a grassy field and laying in the shade of a large tree. Odd you don’t remember falling asleep outside, this area looks pretty familiar. After a few seconds of trying to figure out where you are, you looked to see a statue

The statue looked absolutely majestic, walking to the front of it you saw that it was holding a glowing teal orb and the statue is in the likeness of Venti

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks

You’re at Windrise, you’re in Genshin

Excitement fills you and instantly began to run to Mondstadt City

Being transported to your favorite video game is supposed to be an amazing experience. Experience the world first person, interact with the characters, all that good jazz. That’s what you expected when you step foot in the city

Instead of the kind smiles you would normally see from behind your screen you were met with the people whispering amongst themselves whilst looking at you

Odd, you kept walking around the city until a knight came up to you and pointed his sword at you

“Halt, foul imposter!” The knight spat out. “How dare you come here wearing their holy presence.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just woke up like-” You were cut off by the sword coming closer to your neck

You looked around to see a crowd gathered around waiting for you, the intensity of the situation only grew and so without much hesitation you ran away from the knight and the crowd

You ran until you bumped into a person, looking up you see Kaeya

“Oh thank god! Kaeya please explain to these people that they got it all wrong, I’m not an imposter!” You pleaded

But why did he look at you with such contempt and disgust? Without a word from him he restrained you, his grip ironclad threatening to leave bruises to your arms

“I got them!” Kaeya yelled at the crowd

The mob gathered around you and bound your hands behind your back and the two knights lead you to a jail cell that had long been abandoned

Why were they treating you this way, you’ve done nothing wrong. Hopeless you curled up into ball on the floor and began to cry uncontrollably

You don’t know how long you spent crying when a knight came to get you from your dingy cell. She took you outside and you the moment you were out the sun blinded you. As you were lead through the street the people pelted rotten fruit at you

All that was going through your mind was “why”

Why are they doing all of these awful things to you, the yells of contempt was a stark contrast to the friendly smiles you’re used to seeing

As you got closer you saw the stake that you’re about to be tied to and set alight, the reality hit you and in a desperate attempt to calm your mind you begin to hum a melody that you would listen to while playing the game

You hum loudly to drown out the chants from the crowd. Strangely it comforted you, perhaps in your last moments finding solace in familiarity pushes the situation out of your mind.

You hummed loudly that someone heard you

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” A familiar voice yelled, quieting the crowd

You look up to see it was Venti who was standing before you. He gets down on his knees and looks you in the eyes

“That melody, sing it again.”

You kept humming the tune and the vision holders all had horrified looks on their faces, they all drop to their knees and bowed before you

“Your Grace, please forgive us for our grave mistake.” Jean said

“W-what are you talking about?” You asked confused beyond comprehension

“Your Grace, do you not realize that you are the creator of Teyvat?” Eula said

You ended the story and looked around at the faces of the children gathered around you. A story that is long behind you and now you dictate your time in teaching future generations the lesson

“What was the song you sang, your Grace?” A girl asked

“It was a song that the vessels would hear when I would pilot them, here let me hum it to you.” You began to hum the melody and as the song progressed you saw the children slowly get lulled to sleep. Finishing your tune you stood up from you chair and whispered “Goodnight, my sweet children.”

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Seventeen when they realise they’re in love with you

Seventeen Masterlist

Im open to fic requests!

Genre: Fluff!

→ Choi Seungcheol

“She doesn’t bite, I promise” Cheol reassures.

Cheol brings his dog over to meet you. You were terrified of dogs, but you tried for him.

Cheol somehow got you to touch kkumas head and also feed her some chopped carrots. Kkuma really liked you and wanted to play with you. She kept jumping to your lap, but you tried your best not to make sudden movements or shriek and scare the poor dog.

You thought dogs were cute, but only from afar.

You trying to overcome this fear and interact with someone so precious to him, really made him seoon over you. He definitely fell for you that day.

→Yoon Jeonghan

He had called you over while he babysat one of his nieces. You’ve always liked kids so it was no big deal. But the only big deal was meeting his family. You’ve been together now for a month and meeting family was a huge deal.

His niece at first felt a little awkward and standoffish but soon warmed up to you when you presented her with some candy you picked up for her.

Jeonghan loved the fact that you got along with his family. He also starting feeling love for you that day that only deepened there after.

→ Hong Jisoo

“Tell me what you want from me Joshua?” You yell at him, tears pooling your eyes.

What did he want? He wasn’t ready to be in a relationship, but seeing you talk to that guy from uni also did something to him. Lately he felt as if he was running away from something, he finally figured out what it was. As you stood there, tears falling out of your eyes. He loved you, it hit him like a bag of bricks when he saw you threaten leaving the apartment without resolving whatever this was. He was scared to admit to himself, but now he had to say it out loud. For him to hear, for you, to hear.

He knew if he let you walk out that door, you’ll be gone forever.

“I’m in love with you”

→ Moon Jun hui

Jun had the worst day at work today, everything that could go wrong, went wrong: the paper machine had no paper, his sandwich for lunch became soggy, it started to rain when he went out to get some lunch instead, his important presentation fell through. Nothing was right.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, as you both take a walk. Seeing him stressed, you suggested a walk outside to get some fresh air.

He doesn’t respond to the question, so you just take his hand in both of yours, softly caressing it with your thumb as you both walk, you hoped that was enough.

He turned to look at you and your eyes met. Jun always thought it was superficial when people said ‘all my worries fade away when I’m with you’ but he finally understood exactly what that was like. All his cynicism disappeared because it worked. One look at you and he was smiling.

Regardless of what happens in the day, you were someone that melt his problems. He realised this is what love is.

→Kwon Soonyoung

“I’m going to make this work” you say frustrated, almost pulling your hair out.

Soonyoung was in your studio helping you figure out some beats for your new song and it was going to hell. Every tune you came up with sounded so eeriely similar to something you’ve already heard before. You’d rather jump off a cliff than accidentally put yourself through accusations of plagiarism.

Another groan while you play around with the keys. This went on all night where to a point soonyoung fell asleep on the couch behind you but you were still making the song.

“I did it!”

This woke him up and you looked so happy and accomplished that you had finally cracked it. You let him have a listen to see if it sounds familiar somehow, but it didn’t.

Soonyoung had heard many friends say that people look the most attractive when they’re working and they were right.

Your happiness was contagious and he was absolutely adoring you.

He fell in love with your happiness immediately.

→ Jeon Wonwoo

Like every time, this time too, wonwoo left for home after spending the whole weekend at yours. He lived two towns away so it was an hour of a drive to see each other. You made it all worth it.

This time, while leaving it didn’t feel like usual. His chest felt a lot heavier when he thought about not seeing you for another week.

This time, his throat closed up every time he wanted to say goodbye. Perhaps he had finally gotten used to saying goodbye until a new feeling came in and knocked the air out of his lungs and glued his feet to your apartment.

“I think I love you”

→ Lee Jihoon

You were snoring in the living room on your architecture table as he helped you into bed.

You’ve been working on this project for days, staying up all night. Jihoon is someone that works really hard and also holds a lot of respect for people who are passionate about their contribution to the world. He looks up to people who are diligent and dedicated.

That night, he had a lot of respect for you but also a lot of adoration. He was falling in love with your sincerity, slowly and surely.

→Seo Myungho

“I hope we get to see sea turtles later” you say to Hao.

Hao has always been attracted to empathy. When he suggested that you should go on a date to the beach with a clean up drive, he didnt expect you to say yes as fast as you did.

He has always found this empathy in you for nature, and preserving nature, very attractive. The fact that this was your common ground only deepened your relationship further.

He was head over heels for you when you agreed to pick garbage with him at the beach.

→Kim Mingyu

Kim Mingyu took you to the arcade for your 6th date, yes, you were counting, because he felt like a dream, you really saw this going somewhere.

The arcade was one of the cutest date things to do on paper, but you never got to actually experience it. You ended up trying all the machines there were. But the dance machine is something you were waiting for.

You had your concentration face on and you were really to destroy this machine. Mingyu was always carefree and very giggly type. His giggles made you giggle too.

You ended up challenging him to a dance off and went at it for a good 3 minutes. But all you could see was Mingyu half way through stopping and chuckling at your face. You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re so easy to love”

→Lee Seokmin

Dokyeom falls in love with the littlest of things, they then add on to become a huge pile of love and an overwhelming sense of adoration and affection.

You and him were walking in the city on a road that goes uphill. You had spotted an old lady with her hands full of 2 huge bags, barely able to climb uphill. You immediately rush to her and offer help. Dokyeom was puzzled to see you run, until he realised what you were doing. He had a big smile plastered on his face while he comes over to help as well.

Dokyeom enjoyed helping people, he drew joy from it and so did you. This instance was another drop in the ocean for him to fall more and more in love with you.

→Boo Seungkwan

Boo Seungkwan was an athlete by heart. He absolutely loves breaking a sweat playing all the sport he can.

Him and you started dating a couple of weeks ago and promised each other you’d have a go at his favourite sport badminton, which he boasted he was good at. You were an average badminton player, you enjoyed squash more.

The match started off slow, you were both testing waters. The match slowly gog to a point where it was just sounds of the racket hitting the shuttle, no giggles, no teasing. Neither of you like to lose.

You finally hit a smash that he could not reach. He was awestruck. Usually, he hates losing, but this time, he lost focus, all his focus was on how amazing the match was and how amazing you were.

Now if thats you or your badminton playing skills that he fell in love with is something you are yet to figure out.

→Choi Vernon

Usually Vernon is quite non chalant,doing his own thing, minding his own business. You and him have been speaking to each other for a month now.

And everything feels different to him. Every time Vernon sees something very interesting immediately thinks of you and to bring you to show it to you, all his thoughts about the future have you in it. He’s thinking about you all the time.

He was walking by a bakery and he thought about who this one time you told him you hated the smell of bread.

His brain was a 90% you and thats when it clicked. He was in love.

→Lee Chan

Your boyfriend had called you saying he didn’t feel very well and cancelled your date. You ended up going to his apartment instead.

You tended to him, he was running a fever and even made him some soup to feel better and stayed with him if he needs anything. As a boy, he had moved away from home early and never really had someone that cared for him like this.

This was the first time in years he felt cared for and he was so grateful to you, that feeling of gratefulness soon turned into feelings of love before the fever broke.

——

Tried a different style, hope y’all like it!j I’m open to fic requests!

[cod-dump]

Price seems like the type of guy to get held hostage and just hum to himself. The boys and NikGraves urgently break into this building to find him, and he's just sitting alone, tied up in a room humming and tapping his fingertips along to the tune.

Nik: Are you alright? Your face is bruised. I'll kill them, what did they do?

Soap: Is he humming a fucking Nine Inch Nails song?!

He was there for hours in fucking silence. They tried getting him to talk but he's seen all this before and is honestly bored by this point. After him taking every hit like a brick wall they decided they weren't going to interrogate him anymore, they wanted to use him as a bartering chip now.

So they locked him in a cell, by himself, and no one would say a word to him.

Price had to keep himself entertained somehow.

So he went through what felt like his whole workout playlist, humming to himself. This may have intimidated his captors because they were nothing but uneasy as he was humming Pharrell Williams' 'Happy'. Honestly he was certain he had a concussion so he didn't find himself caring too much how they were looking at him.

Finally, after so much silence that he had to chase off himself, he heard shooting. He grinned and just continued humming, not a care in the world.

Price was lost in his playlist again, not registering the fighting. Someone had opened the cell but it was met with a slam into the bars. Price opened his eyes to see Soap killing one of the captor's with a knife, ah Ghost must be proud.

Soap turned to him, panicked, and trying to talk to him. He should've been concerned he didn't exactly hear anything Soap said beyond his eternal radio station. Price didn't stop humming, didn't really acknowledge what Soap said because he didn't hear it, and that just made Soap more concered.

And then came Nikolai, his beloved husband. There was blood on him, a wild look in his eyes, and Price never thought he's ever seen the man so attractive.

Soap got out of the wall as Nik rushed towards him, taking his face into his hands and checking his injuries with rage and worry in his eyes. Finally, Price was freed from his restraints and happily let Nik haul him over his shoulder and carry him out of the cell.

It was like as soon as they left the cell Price started to hear things a bit clearer.

"He's been knocked stupid."

"Be nice, Sergeant," Nik sounded like he wasn't in the mood to joke.

"Is he- He's fucking humming- Have you been singing to yourself this entire time?"

Soap tried to talk to him, tried to get an answer, but Price was happy to have Nik's warm arms around him. He just let himself hang over Nik's shoulder, continuing his playlist.

They ran into some Shadows who were covering their fire, and Gaz and Ghost ran up.

"Fuck, is he alright?"

"He's fucking singing under that beard, Garrick, no he's not alright."

Ghost, after a second, narrowed his eyes, "Cap, is that Nine Inch Nails?"

Soap waved his arms around, "He fucking listens to Nine Inch Nails and he told me to 'turn that shit off'- Un-fucking-believable."

Nik ran to the helicopter the moment he had an opening, and the boys were left to hitch a ride back with the Shadows. Yet some fucking how Graves managed to get in with them. They collectively decided to wait to bring that up to Nik about him practically ditching them. They didn't want to catch any strays while he was fretting over his husband.

[oozedninjas]

The orange peel theory

You saw this trend on TikTok, and now you must try it with your boyfriend. Would they pass the test?

General verses / sfw / ninja guys are late 20's

"Honey, I was wondering if you could help me peel this orange," you say before sitting next to him on the couch. His favorite show was about to start.

Leo looked at the orange, then at you, before taking it with a sweet smile. "Gladly."

This man never misses an opportunity to impress you.

Leo peeled a fragment with the sharp end of his katana, then removed it entirely with precise movements. He stole a few glances at you, wearing a flirty smile.

"Thank you, Leo."

He grins. "It's always an honor to help you."

"Babe, are you busy?"

Raphael turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

"I was just about to go on patrol. Why?"

"Would you mind helping me peel this orange?"

He tilted his head. You weren't one to ask for help with trivial stuff. Yet, Raphael shrugged, minding the way your eyes seemed to sparkle. It brought a smile to his face.

"Sure! Pass it over."

Raph peeled the orange, mindful not to bruise it as you admired the strength in his hands and his clumsy attempt at gentleness.

"Here you go."

It looked ridiculously tiny in his hand. You giggled. "Thanks, babe."

"Thanks?" Raph leaned over the wall, trapping you between his plastron and the bricks. "A kiss is the price to pay," he teased.

"Hey, love, I was wondering if you'd help me peel my orange?"

Donatello tuned to you, adjusting his glasses over his nose. "Of course, I'd be happy to assist," he gave you a sweet smile before cleaning up his hands.

"Would you like the orange peeled only, or do you want it sliced into wedges? I can put it on a plate— I think we have some little toothpicks around here; they'll help you eat it more comfortably," He said, moving through the place.

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or thinking out loud, but it mattered not. He definitely passed the vibe check. You were with the right man and couldn't be happier.

"Mikey baby, would you help me peel this?" you said, handing him the orange.

He was thrilled anytime you made him feel needed.

"Sure thing, angel. Watch and learn from the master of orange-peeling!" he said in an attempt to show off.

He's probably waving unexisting brows.

You sighed in that endearing way that only surfaced when he was around. Mikey eagerly peeled the orange and then bowed to present it to you.

"Thank you, mister."

"Anything for my baby!"

He'll be happy if you ask to eat it together.

[hihomeghere]

1 and 81 for Charles smut! I’m so excited for these prompts it’s gonna be so fun!

Knight in Shining Armor | Charles Smith/Reader

I really didn't mean for this to be this long, and yet here we are! I hope you enjoy!

Prompt list

Word Count : 3.1k Prompts : 1. "Kiss me" "What-", 81. "Your heart is racing." Warnings/Tags : Mention of abuse, mentions of SH, piv smut, fingering, cleaning of cuts, getting bucked off a horse, cursing, female reader

The Parlour House was bustling with life, beer and whiskey freely flowing. Ever since moving to Clemens point, after that nasty business in Valentine, you had been frequenting the parlor house most nights. Dutch and Hosea had taught you well, pick pocketing was your specialty. It’s how you made your living in the gang, and there were more than enough drunkards to steal from in Rhodes.

Especially with the stupid rivalry between the Grays and Braithwaites. While Dutch and Hosea were dipping their hands into their pockets figuratively, you were literally doing it. 

“Honey, that must be so hard.” You cooed, not giving a shit what this Gray was actually saying. It was about the gold, always about the gold. Dutch was always talking about the gold, Hosea was always talking about the gold. Eventually to save your sanity you had to start tuning them out. You trailed your fingers down his chest, expertly slipping your fingers into his pocket, and pocketing his watch. 

“You have no idea darlin’.” He sighed, his glassy eyes raking over your body. 

“Oh but I do.” You said pouting your lips, your head lolling up and down in an exaggerated fashion. “It must be so tough.” Taking his hand in yours you lifted it to your mouth. Kissing each finger before slipping off his gold band. He wouldn’t be missing it, especially when he was flirting with any woman who would look his way. 

“Hey,” He grinned lazily, “You wanna get a room? Get a bath maybe?” He said trailing his fingers up your arm. You fought every urge to vomit, smiling sweetly at him.

“Oh honey I’m not that type of girl.” You said chuckling softly, pulling away from him. His featherlight touches turned firm, his hand wrapping around your wrist. 

“Don’t tell me you ain’t been thinking about it.” He says through gritted teeth.

“I haven’t honey, honest.” You whispered, shaking your head. Your eyes dart around the saloon for some knight in shining armor. Your eyes landing on a familiar outline outside. 

Why did it have to be him?

When you’ve been fighting feelings for the ox of a man for months. 

When he was asked to be your ‘chaperone’ after coming back to camp one too many times bruised from angry men’s fists. Turning down advances became second nature, but most boys didn’t take no for an answer.

Dutch and Hosea had given you two options, stop working or start taking a man from camp to act as muscle in case things got ugly. 

And things were starting to look ugly. 

You pulled hard against his hand, yanking your hand from his grip. Hissing as his fingernails scraped down your wrist. You turned on your heel, racing for the door. Pushing the doors open, gasping in a breath of fresh air, your eyes turned onto Charles.

“Charles!” You yelled, running into his arms. His large hands landed on your waist as you slammed into the brick wall of his chest.

“Y/n?” His brows furrowed as he looked down at you before his eyes snapped towards the sound of the parlor door busting open. 

“Kiss me.” You said grabbing his shirt, pulling him down to your height.

“Wha-“ Was all he managed to get out before you were slamming your lips onto his. He froze, his lips pursed against yours. A disgruntled huff came out of the Gray chasing you, along with a few not so kind words about your character. Although kissing Charles had deterred him, the door slamming behind the man as he headed back inside.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled pulling away from him, “I didn’t know what else to do.” You said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as your cheeks burned. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.” He said, clearing his throat, avoiding your gaze. You nodded, swallowing thickly as you both walked back to your horses.

Taima and your newer stallion waited for your return. You set your foot in the stirrup, swinging your leg over your horse's back. You snuck a few glances over at Charles, his brow was set as he climbed up onto the Appaloosa.

You both set off to Clemens point, following the setting sun over the Scarlett meadows. You tried to keep your eyes forward and your mind off his lips against yours. His warm hands squeezing your waist, how they would feel against your bare skin. Shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of your daydream. Glad that Charles was riding behind you, unable to see your flushed face.

It was like time stood still for a moment, your stallions ears pinned back, a started squeal leaving his mouth. Your hands gripped the reins, trying to pull him away from the diamond rattlesnake curled up. He fought against you, bucking you off of his back. You hit the ground, hard. Gasping like a fish out of water as you tried to get the air back in your lungs. Charles was immediately at your side, helping you into a fetal position.

“Deep breath in your nose, out your mouth.” He said softly, his hand resting on your shoulder. You had no idea how he possibly could have gotten off Taima that fast, maybe you had been on the ground longer than you thought. Gasping in small strangled breaths. 

Finally you were able to take in a long shallow breath. “There we go.” He said rubbing your arm, helping you into a sitting position. His thumb moved across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“Stupid fucking horse.” You groaned, eliciting a small chuckle from him. 

“Well you won’t have to worry about it anymore.” He said getting to his feet, looking down the road.

“I told Hosea he was worthless.” You huffed, taking Charles hand as he pulled you up. You hissed, standing up. Your back burning, no doubt tore up from your fall onto the dirt road.

“I think you have high standards, Glory was a great horse.” He said dusting you off. You sighed, Glory was the best horse, but she didn’t make it out of Blackwater.

“She was.” You sighed, putting your hands on your hips as you looked down the road, “That was a good saddle, too.” You said, shaking your head.

“We’ll find you a new one.” He smiled down at you, his warm eyes meeting yours. “Come on, let’s get you back to camp.” He said, his hand connecting with the small of your back. Pain shot up your back as you let out a low hiss, arching away from his hand. “Everything okay?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

“Think I tore up my back.” You nodded, waving him off, “Get on and I’ll sit behind you.” He nodded, climbing up onto the gray speckled Appaloosa. You grabbed his arm, slowly moving your leg over her back. You wrapped your arms around Charles waist, laying your head between his shoulder blades. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your cheek as Taima started to trot forward.

“Your heart is racing.” You said softly, his chest rumbling as he chuckled.

“You gave me quite a scare, you know?” He said, turning his head slightly to look at you. 

“You probably think I’m a mess.” You chuckled nervously, shaking your head.

“No,” He said softly, “I don’t.”

You rode in silence, your hips bumping into his behind with the sway of Taima’s steps. You were glad you were born a female, because there is no way you wouldn’t have gotten a hard on. You didn’t have to worry about your breasts pressing against Charles' back for much longer, the familiar line of trees coming into view. 

He led Taima over to the hitching posts, giving her a firm pat before turning to help you off. His hands landed on your waist for the second time. He lifted you off of her back as though you weighed nothing. Setting you gently on the ground, his hands lingering on your waist. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said softly, nodding as he looked down at you.

“Alright.” You nodded, walking towards your tent. He headed off to grab some supplies while you pulled the canvas flap down. You sat down on your cot, staring at the discolored fabric of your tent. You couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or anticipation bubbling up inside you. You just knew if Charles didn’t get back soon you would explode from it.

He cleared his throat, pulling back the flap as he stepped inside your tent. “Can you take your shirt off?” He asked, “I need to clean your back.” You swallowed thickly, nodding your head.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said looking down, your fingers trembling as you began to unbutton your blouse. You bit your lip as you pushed your shirt off of your shoulders, moving your hair off of your back. The cot sank as he settled his weight down next to you. 

“This’ll sting.” Charles said softly, pouring alcohol onto a cloth before pressing against the cuts on your back.

“Shit.” You said through gritted teeth, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the cot beneath you. He mumbled an apology, pulling the cloth away from your back. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers replaced the cloth. Goosebumps erupting on your skin as they trailed down your back. You felt frozen, wanting more than anything to look back at him, but at the same time you were afraid he would stop if you moved.

You bit the bullet, turning your head to glance back at him. His dark eyes met yours, cautious, like he was afraid to spook you. Although you wanted to shy away from his gaze, you held it, an unspoken exchange passing between the two of you.

 He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, holding your gaze. You reached up to cup his cheek, moving as though it was muscle memory. An intricate dance choreographed for you two. He let out a soft sigh against your skin as your hand connected to his face. Your soft palm resting against his scarred cheek. His hands moved to your waist, squeezing softly. His lips laid kisses from your shoulder up to your neck.

“Charles,” You sighed, not knowing what you were asking for. He hummed against your neck, his chest rumbling softly. You turned on the cot, pressing yourself against him. Your nipples rubbed against the cotton fabric of his shirt. You brushed your nose against his, your arms wrapped sweetly around his neck. He took the plunge, pressing his lips against yours.

Warmth flooded your body, like the first sip of whiskey. Heat spreads from your lips down into your belly. Arousal sparking between your legs as he moans softly into your mouth. You part your lips, swallowing his sounds greedily. Your tongue flicks into his mouth, dancing with his. Your hand threads into his dark locks, tugging experimentally at his scalp. 

He groans, low and reverberating through his chest. You smirk against his lip, repeating your motions. His hand, calloused and warm, laid over your breast. Kneading it gently, you gasp as his thumb runs over your nipple. You arch into his hand, closing your eyes as you pull him closer.

“Charles I-“ You said breathlessly, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“I know.” He said softly, ducking his head to take your nipple into his mouth. You moaned, an unabashed whine pulled out of your throat as his tongue swirled around the bud.  He pulled away with a satisfying pop, his dark eyes meeting yours as he smiled up at him. “You need to stop with those sounds, sweet girl.” He whispered, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours again. A silent plea for a kiss which you eagerly gave. Your mouth clashed against his, unlike the first sickly sweet kiss you shared. 

“I’ll try.” You chuckled softly, looking at him with a lust filled gaze. His eyes only showed adoration, a look that had you faltering. “What?” You asked with a nervous smile.

“You’re beautiful.” He said nonchalantly, as though it was something as simple as saying the sky was blue. 

“Shut up.” You said, your cheeks burning as you pulled on the hem of his shirt. He chuckled softly, pulling the blue fabric over his head, throwing it onto the floor. 

Your lips met again, your hands laying on his bare chest. Feeling the heat radiating off of his body, feeding the fire between your legs. Your hands mapped a path down his chest, taking in every scar and divot. 

“I need you.” You whined, looking up at him. He smirked, a glint in his eye as he laid you back. You hissed, the rough fabric gliding against your cuts.

“That won’t work.” He said pulling you back up, you laid a chaste kiss on his lips before standing. You untied your skirts, letting them pool around your feet. He leaned back on the cot, unbuttoning his pants and shimmying out of them. You slipped your fingers into the top of your bloomers pulling them over the swell of your ass. You bit your lip, your eyes rising slowly to meet his.

“C’mere.” He said reaching for you, you took a step towards him. His hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. His head rested against your stomach, his other hand trailing up your thigh. You waited patiently for him to touch the place you needed him most. He didn’t make you wait long, his large hand cupping your mound. Trailing his fingers through your slick folds, his thumb pressing against the hood of your clit. 

Your breath hitched, pleasure shooting through your body. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he laid featherlight kisses on your stomach. His thick finger presses into your cunt, a low whine leaving your chest.

“Shh,” He said softly, starting to pump his finger in and out of you. You bite your lip to stifle your moans, your fingernails digging crescent shaped marks into his shoulders. 

Charles knows he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is. Knows he shouldn’t like how you dig your nails into him. He knows when tomorrow comes those marks will remain, even if you don’t.

He adds a second finger and your knees start to shake, dancing dangerously close to the edge of your orgasm. You can feel his eyes burning into you, almost willing you to look at him. You’ve never felt this, this yearning for another person, not just for their body. You want Charles, you want all of him. You want him to be yours and you want to be his. You want to scream from the rooftops that you feel the closest to, well love, that you’ve ever been.

And fuck is that terrifying. 

Then his thumb circles on your clit and you’re fucking gone. Diving headfirst into a pool of pleasure. 

“There we go.” He cooed letting out a satisfied huff. You chuckle weakly, leaning your head against his. A bead of sweat runs down your forehead onto his. “You think you’re ready?” He asked, his deep brown eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been ready for a long time.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said taking your hand, placing it on his crotch.

Oh.

How was that supposed to fit inside you?

You stroked up his length through his undergarments. You grabbed the piece of clothing separating skin on skin and pulled it down this thick thighs. Your mouth watering as his cock bounced up onto his stomach. Painfully hard and weeping. You spit onto your hand, spreading your saliva over his cock head. You stand over him, letting his hands guide your hips down. His girthy head stretches you open, your breath catching in your throat.

“My girl.” He groans, as you slide down onto his length. My, My, My, My. It’s a constant loop in your head as he fully sheathes himself inside you. Stretching you wider than you’ve ever been before, painful in a good way. You let out a shaky breath, craning your neck back in pleasure. Charles' lips press against your pulse point, a silent apology on his part. Although there isn’t a need for it, your hips rise off of him slightly, before slamming back down. 

A near animalistic moan falls out of Charles lips, his hands dimpling your flesh. You clenched around him, gasping as his hips thrusted upwards. Concern flashed across his face before it quickly turned lustful as you grinded down onto him. He let you set the pace, wanting you to enjoy the experience as much as he was. He was along for the ride you could say. If he had it his way he would have buried his head between your thighs until you were crying.

You raised your hips until he was almost out of you before slamming back down. Repeating the motion until you could feel the coil tightening in your stomach.

“Yeah? You close?” Charles asked, sucking a mark that would definitely get you a few stares in the morning onto your neck. 

“Mmhm.” You said, your head lolling back and forth. Biting your lip to stop the wanton moans that threatened to break free. He took over, thrusting up into you. Suddenly the coil snapped, you gushed over his cock, slamming your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan. 

“That’s my good girl.” He praises, his thrusts starting to get sloppier as he goes on. He quickly pulls out, groaning as he spills his seed onto the ground. You chuckled breathlessly, smiling as you laid your head onto his shoulder. He let out a long satisfied sigh, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” He asked, looking into your eyes for confirmation.

“Far from it.” You laughed, shaking your head. “That was…” you trailed off grinning.

“Yeah.” He nodded, gently squeezing your thigh. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you. Nothing needed to be said, that was the wonderful thing about you and Charles. But you wanted- no needed to say something.

“Maybe I should get in trouble and fall off my horse more often.” You chuckled, rubbing your nose against his cheek.

“You don’t need to do that again.” He mumbled, a smile spreading across his face. “Just- just talk to me next time.” 

“Next time?” You asked, hoping bubbling up in your chest.

“Next time.” He nodded, brushing his nose against yours.

[justnatoka]

No disrespect

David x Fem! Reader

Word count: 1046

Warning: mention of canon-typical violence, smoking

Summary: David and you are a power couple. When someone disrespects your man, you show them the consequences.

One night Michael found himself at the boardwalk in the company of David and his gang. The boys were having a good time, messing around, messing with him, smoking and laughing. He still couldn’t quite make sense of some stuff about them, but he was sure of one thing. You were David’s girl. The leader made it clear to him in the beginning that you were off limits, and he never questioned it, being too enamored with Star to even think about trying anything with you anyway. It made sense in his mind why David and you would gravitate towards each other. You were both charismatic, exuding an aura of confidence that he rarely saw in other people. Adding that together, you made an absolutely magnetic couple that drew the eyes of guys and girls alike.  You two however never looked at anyone else. And even though Michael knew his place regarding your relationship, that doesn’t mean others did too.

You were leaning onto David until now, listening to him talking to Dwayne, occasionally taking puffs from his cigarette. He was resting his arm around your waist, his fingers drawing lazy figures on your hip. When you moved to detach yourself from him, he glanced down at you.

“I’ll be right back, gonna get a drink.” Pressing a quick kiss on his lips, you turned to the boys. “You guys want anything?” They shook their heads. You sent one last glance to David, then walked off towards a nearby shop, your movements graceful and full of purpose. That was another thing about you that Michael had discovered, you knew exactly what kind of effect you had on the people around you. It wasn’t necessarily the result of your looks, more like the air around you, the way you carried yourself. There was something about it that drew people in. Sure enough, there were heads turning as you passed by. Your lover watched your retreating form with a heated gaze.

Michael turned back to looking at the crowd. He didn’t pay attention to how long you were gone, but the next thing he knows, Marko is hitting his arm to get his attention.

“Hey, Mickey, check it out.” He motioned towards where you left, and as Michael turned his head, he saw you leaning on the counter with a drink in hand and a big guy in front of you. It was clear he was flirting with you. He rested one of his hands on yours, casually leaning against the counter, a big grin on his face. He must have said something funny, because you leaned your head back as you laughed. You weren’t close enough to hear what you were talking about, but they got a full view of what was happening.

Michael looked at David, wondering whether he was going to get involved, but to his surprise, David was cool as ever, seemingly not bothered at all, just watching the scene with interest. The guy leaned closer to you and whispered something in your ear, to which you just smiled and shook your head, motioning back towards their group. He looked at them, his face suddenly changing to one of confusion, then barely concealed annoyance.

“Uh-oh, there’s trouble” Paul giggled as he took a drag from his joint, clearly having the time of his life. “Dwayne, bet he’s gonna eat bricks.”

Michael tuned them out, focusing on the two of you. The situation was escalating, the guy glancing their way once again as his irritation grew, and he met David’s eyes for a long moment. David still didn’t move, his gaze intense. They couldn’t see your whole face from where they were sitting, but it was clear as day the guy said something you didn’t like, as your hand that was playing idly with your drink until now went still.  There was a shift in the air. He didn’t seem to notice, but the boys sure as hell did.

“Ooh, he’s done it now” Marko was howling and Paul started cackling, the two of them jostling each other, practically buzzing in anticipation, and even Dwayne joined in.

As you answered him, you moved your body a bit, angling in a way that they could see more of your face. Michael shivered. Your smile was charming, sickeningly sweet, and you gently ran your fingers up the guy’s arm. Your eyes however were cold and calculating, the eyes of a predator about to pounce on its prey. The guy must have felt something too, because his body language became unsure. But your voice was too enticing. Now it was you who leaned closer to him, the movement intimate, seductive even. The next moment you took his hand and started guiding him away from the crowd to one of the darker, more secluded spots, away from the hustling and bustling of the boardwalk.

“Yep, he’s dead meat” Marko concluded and they all went back to what they were doing before as if nothing happened, like this was something they saw regularly. Michael guessed that couldn’t have been far from the truth.

When you returned you no longer had your drink with you. However, there was some blood splattered on your clothes, a few speck still on your face, having washed most of it off your skin. You made your way straight over to David, straddling his lap and smashing your lips to his. He was already anticipating it, his hands naturally moving to your hips, his tongue licking off the remaining blood from the corner of your lips. You combed your fingers through his hair and he leaned his head back a bit as you deepened the kiss. Michael started to feel awkward just staring at you so he looked away, embarrassed at your sudden public display. The boys exchanged amused glances, already used to your affectionate mood after feeding. When you finally detached yourself from each other’s lips, David asked what happened.

“He got disrespectful. I couldn’t let him talk shit about you, so I ripped out his throat.”

You said it so matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing to do. David burst out laughing, the boys joining in. Michael just looked at you in bewilderment, seriously wondering what the hell he got himself into.