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horrorhot-line · 3 months

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zayne nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: zayne x female!reader

➵ word count: 3.2k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. dominant/submissive, slight somnophilia, slight degradation, sexual control, slight temperature play, toys.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ xavier's ver. | rafayel's ver.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

notes: so, i know this is late but i've been sick, so i was bed bound- like i've been asked here is zayne's alphabet, i tried my best to keep true to his character. credit to my fiance for letting me bombard him with questions so i could make this short series accurate.

this was requested here, by a lovely anon <333

credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) zayne will cuddle you. you know this man finds it hard to show his emotions; he tries for you- but after he's done with you, hands held above your head, his other arm wrapping around your back to hold your chest to his as he snaps his hips into yours, making sure you feel every inch. then, when you're all used, looking pretty and satisfied, he'll clean you up and wrap his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, focusing on the soft vibrations of your body as you talk and stroke his hair.

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he loves your hips, loves tracing his fingers on them just to watch you squirm because you're sensitive there. loves holding them as he fucks you, digging his nails into them as he tries to stop himself from cumming, just so he can feel your pussy twitch around him a little longer. loves the feel of them in his hands, knowing you can't escape his grip as he speeds up, enjoying how you get louder the closer you are to cumming. he likes his back; more specifically, he likes how broad they are because you tend to scratch when he's buried inside you, stretching you out as you hold onto him, your nails leaving marks all over him- he'll look at them in the mirror, in awe of how deep and red they are, a reminder of how well he fucks you. "call my name like a good girl, won't you?"

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) he loves your cum, loves the way you get so wet for him, the way it drips down your pussy and onto his thighs, covering them as he holds you in his lap, squeezing your ass to guide you up and down his cock. he loves the mess you make, admiring how pretty you look after you've gotten your release, before zayne's forcing his dick into you again, watching how you struggle in his grasp. "ah, ah, ah. you're not going anywhere until i'm done with you."

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) despite being someone who likes to keep clean, he adores making you squirt. he won't relent, thumb pressed firmly to your clit even though you're trying to pry his hand away, setting a brutal force, pounding your wet cunt until you twitch around him, and then he pulls out, watching you squirt over the bedsheets. he doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath, shoving his dick straight back in and fucking you, watching you squirt in splurts as you sob. "there you go- that wasn't so bad, was it? do it once more for me, won't you?"

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he's not that experienced, but he knows his way around your body, having spent extensive time studying you. so you're surprised when he tells you he hasn't slept with anyone but you. you don't believe him, to which he'll respond by giving you a demonstration, and suddenly, you don't feel all that curious as he towers over you, arm at the side of your head, stopping you from getting up as he loosens his tie with his free hand. "why don't i show you how much it helps to study your partner's reaction- what do you say?"

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) prone bone or you on his lap, take your pick. zayne loves the way he can hold you down with just his hips, kissing your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind slowly, speeding up gradually until the headboard slams against the wall and you reach your hand out, grabbing the sheets as you try to get out from under him. he'll reach for that same hand, seizing it in his before forcing it behind your back as he raises himself off you, dick still buried inside you as he sits up on his knees, forcing you to stay in place before he's back to fucking you again. "and where do you think you're going? you wanted this- remember?"

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he's serious; brow slightly furrowed as he fucks into you, watching his dick enter you before his gaze trails to yours. he loves watching you come undone, focusing solely on making you feel good and then some as his thumb finds your clit, no time for him to fool around as he makes you cum on his dick.

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's well groomed, he has a stubble, one that peeks over his boxers and has you staring. zayne doesn't like letting it grow out, he feels you deserve the best, and he takes care of himself as such, making sure he's looking presentable enough as he takes you.

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) he's very romantic when he has the time. outside of his busy work schedule, he'll make sure to make you something nice to eat, lighting candles and giving you flowers when he gets home, before he kisses you, his lips and tongue getting more desperate as he holds you closer, and you swear if he doesn't hold you up, you'll buckle. he'll lead you to the bedroom, slowly taking your clothes off and showering you with wet kisses across your body before his hands find their way to your cunt. "i love every part of you- you're all mine, don't forget it."

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) he won't jack off for a while, but if the hospital's busy and he's leaving his office later than usual, horny and stressed, and you're sleeping- he'll take care of it himself, not wanting to bother you. though, there is that one time you wake up to get yourself water, not realising zayne's back until you find him fisting his dick on the couch, trying to keep quiet. you end up helping him out, and after he's balls deep inside you, fucking you until you're a drooling mess, eyes rolling back at the way he won't stop even as you cum multiple times, you suggest he wakes you up when he needs you, and he stops jacking off altogether, preferring to empty his balls inside you instead of on a tissue. "you're so tight, so good- i'm going to fill you up, make you take all my cum."

➵ k for kink (one or more of their kinks) he has a huge size kink. loves watching the bulge in your stomach forming because of his dick, pressing down on it and forcing you to look at how deep he goes. he has a slight degradation kink, likes making you aware of how much of a slut you are for his dick by making you beg for it only to turn you down and make you wait instead. he's a huge dominant, prefers forcing you into submission rather than you giving in to him right off the bat. depending on the position, he'll choke you too, the other hand going for your tit as he squeezes both, releasing his hold when your vision begins to fuzz. also, he loves being in control, adores it when he finally breaks you, slapping his dick against your pussy, teasing your clit until you're begging him to fuck you, only for him to force your thighs together so he can slot his cock in between and tease you some more. he'll force your body against his, moving his dick against your pussy, letting his tip catch on the hood of your clit so he can feel you twitch against him. "no, i don't think so. you'll wait like the good girl you are for when i finally take you."

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) strictly your place or his, he doesn't like doing it anywhere else. he prefers privacy, and it's mostly because he wants to make sure no one sees how desperate and pretty you look begging for more, yet struggling to take what he gives you. he thinks you sound like pure sin, look it too, and he's certain if any other man saw you like this, they would want you for themselves, so he'll only have sex with you when the two of you are alone in either place, except for when he's stressed and horny because of work- never a good combination, and you end up dropping by at the office when the other staff have either gone home for the day, or are focused on different departments, in which case, he'll bend you right over his desk, shoving your panties to the side so he can finally fill you up, forcing you to take his dick until he cums. "you came here on purpose, didn't you? if you wanted me this badly, you should have just called me home."

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) he likes the power he has over you, and that by extension, means he has a sadistic side. he can be cruel, teasing you and acting oblivious, not showing that he acknowledges how horny you are until you're begging for him. that's what turns him on, the idea that you are weak to him, the way you stutter when he looks into your eyes, silent and holding your gaze until you relent and look away, something he lets you do unless he's balls deep inside you, fucking you hard and rough, snapping his hips and forcing his dick into your pussy before he's lifting your hips slightly so he can get even deeper. "that look suits you, you know. you're the prettiest when you're taking my cock, you know that?"

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) he's not a huge fan of pda, likes to keep his private life with you quiet and under wraps, so he doesn't have pet names for you outside, preferring to call you by your name. when it's just the two of you though, and he's balls deep inside you, towering over your body as he watches you struggle to take his dick, he'll call you his good girl. the tone he uses is different though, when you've been a brat, teasing him when you know he's on the clock just so he can be rough with you when he gets off work. "you're always such a good girl for me, so what changed today? i suppose you had fun trying to make me lose my composure at the hospital. was it worth it?"

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he prefers giving. this man adores the way you grab his hair, trying to get him to stop after he squeezes another orgasm out of you, your body spent and your energy depleted as you beg him to slow down, only for him to tighten his grip around your thighs, forcing your hips down to stop you from squirming, before he licks your clit again, forcing a sob out of you as he uses two fingers to stretch your cunt. "if you want me to let go of you- how about you try not to cum this time, hm?"

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) he's fast and rough, pace unrelenting as he grabs your leg and raises over it his shoulder, using it as leverage as he shoves his dick inside you, forcing you take every inch, tip kissing your cervix as your stomach bulges. as if the sheer size of this man isn't enough, he tries his best to make you feel him in your gut, as if he's trying to mold your pussy into the shape of his dick. his thumb finds your clit, just so that he can feel your cunt twitch and spasm around him, readying himself to cum inside you, yet again. "want me too slow down? that's too bad- you're gonna have to take it."

➵ q for quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) he's not a huge fan of quickies, he likes taking his time with you, forcing you past your breaking point until all you can do is tell him how it's too much. but, when he has overtime and late shifts, back to back, and only has a few hours at home before he has to return to his job, he'll trap you against a wall, or a cabinet, or a wardrobe, rip your clothes off you, bending you over before he's balls deep inside you, fingers in your mouth or around your throat as he fucks you from behind, forcing you to look his way before he kisses you. "i don't have much time. be a good girl and behave for me, won't you?"

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) he doesn't really like risks, prefers staying inside his comfort zone. that is until you get a fixation that you have to explore, and he finds himself giving into you. the first time you asked him to use his evol on you, thinking the cold tempreature would spice up your sex life 10 times over, he refused. until you begged, and begged and he found himself relenting, trying it out as he traced his icy fingers across your lower stomach, his other hand busy being two digits deep inside your pussy, and he won't deny the way his cock twitches at your reactions, you underneath him, jumping at every little touch, and he decides that he loves the way you’re so weak against his abilities. "you wanted me to use my powers, did you not? then be a good girl, and tell me how good you feel."

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) he has a lot of stamina, and when he has the time he will show you just how pent up he's been because of his busy job, forcing you to take his dick late into the night, letting you know that you'll have to sleep in, because there is no way he is letting you rest until he's emptied every last bit of cum inside you. he lasts a long time too, and he'll never admit it, but he will edge himself, slowing down ever so slightly so he doesn't cum too quick, just so he can enjoy the look of pure pleasure on your face and the way your pussy tightens around him, "you're doing so well. cum one more time for me like a good girl, won't you?"

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he doesn't own any toys- that is until he brings one back from a buisness trip as a souvenier. he ends up surprising you with it the night he returns, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, watching every little reaction you have as he reaches between your bodies to press the vibrator to your clit, using the momentary distraction to shove the last few inches of his dick into you, the corner of his mouth twitching as you throw your head back, clearly struggling to take him. "don't look away. keep your eyes on me… good girl."

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) he teases you- sure, but that’s not the reason why he’s incredibly unfair. he's borderline cruel with how demanding he is, forcing your body into different positions, forcing you back onto your knees when you collapse from how spent your body is, holding you against him as he fucks his way into your gut, his pace only getting faster as he uses your pussy, never once stopping even as you ask him to slow down, "no- i know you can take it, so you will."

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he’s not loud, but, he makes up for it. he's never quiet, pure sin falling from his lips, always letting you know how good you feel, or how well behaved you are, as he's snapping his hips up into your pussy, praising you for taking his dick, knowing full well that you're barely coherent because of how big he is. "that's it, tell me how good you feel. you look so pretty like this, struggling to take all of me."

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) he prefers privacy over all else, and it's for multiple reasons, but the most important is the fact that he's protective of you. more specifically, he's protective over who gets to see this side of you, the one of you drooling underneath him, struggling to take his dick, eyes rolling back at how deep he is, hands reaching out to push against his abs, trying to stop him from slipping the last few inches in, loud in how you moan when he grabs those same hands, trapping them in his hold as he fucks you harder than before, balls deep inside you. "you're mine, and that means that no one will ever see this side of you. do you understand? no- nodding isn't good enough, i want you to tell me you understand… good girl."

➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) he's big, i meant it. not big enough that he rips you apart, but big enough that you feel the stretch of your pussy. he can never get it all the way in on the first try, he has to hold your hips in place as he fucks the last few inches of his dick inside you, lifting your lower body to his so he has complete control as he starts to move. "such a good girl for me. i'm sorry if it hurts, but i'm not going to hold back."

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) zayne longs for you, and his sex drive is very high. you just have that effect on him, but he likes to keep that to himself. he waits for you to initate most of the time when the two of you are alone, holding his face in your hands as he kisses you the second you let him know you're horny, dragging you onto his lap so you can feel just how much he wants you. by then it’s too late, because now he has you wrapped around his finger and he can do whatever he wants with you, knowing you’ll give in to him. "you have no idea what you do to me."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards) he does get tired after sex, but he'll cuddle you first, stroking your hair or tracing his fingers along your back as he waits for you to fall fast asleep after he's fucked you, stolen all your energy and filling you up with his cum. he likes watching you, making sure you're resting well after he's used you, before he's closing his eyes and joining you.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #x reader #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #smut

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caraphernellie · 4 months

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nothin', just intimate, sleepy morning sex with els <3

an: quick fic i wrote bc i wanted to write something super intimate n kinda romantic ◝꒰ ´ ˘ `♡ ꒱

cw: nothing much rly! morning sex, tribbing, looooots of 'i love you' and romantic talk. not super hot n heavy? idk. slow and gentle <3 i imagine this as maybe fiance or wife ellie!! suuuuper sappy btw. this is really sappy ksfjklajeklfdg

sunlight streaming through the curtains, golden light cast upon your elegant features. ellie peppering those open-mouthed kisses over your hot skin, from shoulder up to the corner of your lips.

"g'mornin'," is the mumble you hear, that voice filled with sleep nothing but a rasp. "how'd you sleep?"

instead of a response to ellie's simple question, you offer a gentle sigh of content, hooking your leg over her waist and pulling her in closer. "i love you. you feel like home to me."

"home?" ellie whispers, brushing your cheek with her thumb, moving her hand to cup your head so delicately at the back of your neck. "what'chu mean, babe?"

"i feel safe with you." there's a pause, ellie watching your eyes flutter while she rubs the skin at the back of your neck, nails lightly scratching over your skin. "s'feels nice."

"nice?" the response a low murmur. "m'glad."

"i think as long as i'm with you, i'll be okay forever."

ellie chuckles quietly, her hand trailing down, over the expanse of bare skin, and she leans a kiss to your shoulder. "romantic this morning, huh?"

"and you're touchy this morning," you retort, fingertips grasping her chin for a soft kiss. a sloppy, slow exchange of spit and warm breath.

the sounds of that wet, gross kissing along with your giggles filling the room, ellie's hand moves upwards to cup your ass.

"i'm more than touchy," she admits, lips curling into a subtle smirk. "lemme have you."

a quiet moan slips past your lips as she kisses down your neck once more, pressing her lips over every purpled mark she left under moonlight mere hours ago.

"god, els," you murmur, words all slurred, brushing your hand through her hair, "c'mon... need you."

"mhm," ellie hums, slowly pushing you onto your back. she smirks at the immediate spreading of your legs, climbing between them.

she gasps, wet cunt meeting with yours. grabbing your leg to fix the angle, she lets your foot rest over her shoulder, leaning over you.

"mmm, ellie," you moan, hips bucking up into her. "s'pretty..."

ellie chuckles, starting to grind down into you, groaning at the sensation, clit rubbing against yours, the feeling slippery and hot and intimate. "you're the prettiest."

"n--" but ellie cuts you off with a kiss. she won't hear anything different, she won't allow you to disagree, not when the sunlight hits your cheekbone like that, and you're splayed out for her to love on, those heavy lidded eyes staring into her own.

pulling away and biting your lower lip, ellie grunts, starting to rub faster against you. she cages your head between her hands pressing into the bed, and she won't let you tell her, but she's utterly beautiful like this, auburn hair curtaining her face. freckles like a tapestry of stars all over her body, every inch of skin so unique to you, sweat beading at her forehead.

ellie's breath grows heavier and she stares down into your eyes, groaning and huffing.

"mmmmff,fuck, ellieee," you whine, "i love you. love you so much."

"i love you too." ellie leans down to kiss your neck, moving faster. but she can't find words that tell you how she really feels. so she resorts back to her typical, vulgar nature.

"and nobody fucks this pussy like me, yeah?"

"no," you manage, shaking your head with half lidded eyes. "nobody does. mmmm, s'good els, yea."

"good?"

"sooo good, good, good, su'good," you babble, beginning to pant a little heavier. "close, ellie."

"me too," ellie mumbles, "hold my hand, babe."

you grab at ellie's hand, your free hand going down to hold her thigh, keep her close as she rubs her soaking cunt onto yours. "kiss, kiss me baby."

ellie squeezes your hand, leaning down and connecting your lips in a kiss, pushing her tongue past your lips. she revels in the moan it elicits from you.

"love you," is the only thing you feel like saying anymore. "yours, i'm yours in this life and in the next, in all the lives after that-"

there's just level of intensity in the room now, soft breeze blowing the curtains peacefully in the light of dawn, moans filling the room, movements of both you and ellie becoming more frantic as you reach the height of your climax together.

"i'm always yours, ellie."

she loses it at that, breath becoming shallow, a soft squeak of--

"cum, cum with me baby."

she meets your lips with hers again, and that familiar feeling snaps in you, the two of you shaking against each other, intertwined in a hold of skin to skin contact.

and ellie holds you close, wrapping an arm around you nice and tight.

"for the record, i'm yours too," she says quietly, kissing your cheek.

"in this life and the next," you say with a firm nod.

i didnt expect it to turn out like this but daaamn... idk if i like it but also??

tags: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @machetegirl109 @eurewili @craz1er4you @divinediors @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites

i'm still trying to sort out my tag list!! it wouldn't let me tag some people. if you wanted to be tagged but weren't pls let me know so i can fix that <3

#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x fem reader #fem reader #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie williams smut #tlou x reader #tlou2 x reader smut #ellie x reader #ellie x yn #ellie williams x you #ellie x you

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proxima-writes · 5 months

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title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

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sha-n-dowbannedlol · 1 year

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Lucifer — Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I'm only looking at you

CW: uhm? fire? reader is in an arranged marriage

It has been more than a year now since you asked Lucifer out of curiosity and slight amusement:

"What happens when you enter a church?"

You look up from your D.D.D. to find that the demon you were speaking to didn't even look up from his paperwork, continuing to write.

"Do you catch on fire?" you jokingly ask,

"Yes." he responds, much to your surprise. with his eyes still glued to the paper on his desk, he continues on to explain, "But it's not like the flame hurts me. If anything, it's just inconvenient because I can barely see anything."

You didn't know whether to believe his words or not back then, but you certainly do now—a whole year after you returned to the human world, a whole year after he broke things off with you.

Gasps resounded in the building at the sound of someone kicking the church doors open, followed by ear-piercing screams from a few guests and others yelling about getting water as all the horrified eyes were focused on a single point; the flaming figure walking down the aisle.

"I said," the figure seemed unphased by the commotion he has caused and the roaring flames engulfing his being, "Stop the Wedding!"

You didn't know what to feel. At first, you felt horrified, anyone would be when they see this sight before them. But at the realization that it was your ex-boyfriend—whom you still love very much—you felt a mix of relief and annoyance.

Relief at the delay of your marriage with this man you barely even know, and annoyance because what in Diavolo's name is he doing here now?!

You didn't hesitate to walk back down the aisle, your soon-to-be husband and the priest too stunned to even try to stop you. The chaos inside the church suddenly became background noise as you met his crimson eyes—even if it was quite hard to see through the roaring flames.

"Lucifer," you hissed when you were only a few feet away from him, "What are you doing here?!"

"I'm here for you," He replies, he reaches his hands out in hopes of touching you which prompted you to flinch away from the flames—a gesture he misunderstood and mistook as rejection. His hands fell back to his sides and you can't even discern the look on his face with the fire blocking your view.

"How did you even know? I didn't.. I didn't tell anyone from the devildom."

"Ah.... Mammon punched me..." He informs you, his voice is low and quite embarrassed. For the second time that day, your eyes widen in surprise. Mammon? He did what? But before you could voice out your surprise, he continues.

"He said you were sobbing over the phone, and immediately assumed it was because of me. I was... worried. I asked Solomon to check on how you're doing here and-" He stops, and based on the movements of the flames, you assume he's looking around in search of the white-haired sorcerer. "He was the one who told me about this."

"And what do you hope to achieve?"

"To convince you to come with me."

"Weren't you the one who told me to find my happiness in someone else?"

"I did." He admits, "But you're not happy with him, are you?"

You turn your gaze down and away from his own, and your silence was enough of a response for him. As you continue to look down, his flaming hand came into your view, palms open and facing upward.

"Come with me." His deep voice was tempting you to take his hand, "Or not. It's your choice, darling."

You study his glove-clad hand, and as much as you want to take his hand, you were scared that it would just burn you and lead you to a world full of pain—literally.

You can turn back to safety and take your fiance's hand—the safer option wherein you're sure that you wouldn't get hurt, where you wouldn't have to turn your back on your family and not disappoint your parents.

Or you can take the risk and take Lucifer's hand—embrace the roaring flames and turn your back on everyone else, burning the bridge that once connected you to your family, to your parents, to the future they planned just for you.

You could've taken the roaring flames on Lucifer's hand as a bad omen, it was as if the universe was yelling at you to not hurt yourself by going back to him and you, yourself, already knew that. You should turn back. You should go back to the altar. You shouldn't come with him.

And with a deep breath, you finally made your decision.

....It doesn't hurt.

That was the first thought that popped into your mind when your bare skin met Lucifer's glove, and just as he said, the flames do not hurt. If anything, it was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of his gloves as his fingers wrap around your hand once again.

You finally look up, a genuine, fond smile had made its way to his face now, before pulling on your hand.

"Let's run away,"

#obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me luci x reader #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x you #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader

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strrwbrrryjam · 1 month

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that scene between arthur and dutch in chapter six where arthur insists to dutch about letting john, his family and the girls is one of my favourite scenes from rdr2 because it packs so much about arthur and dutchs character/relationship

this was likely one of the first times that arthur had ever outright challenged dutch to his face, he's not even challenging him, really, he's merely insisting dutch put the lives of the gang over the money, which is something i and arthur would think dutch would appreciate given all of his preaching of loyalty and freedom and family. he's very clearly passionate about this, given his raised voice and hand gestures, but it's clear that he's nervous, too, his words coming out rushed

and when dutch responds with "john? ...insist?" it's clear that arthur has every reason to be nervous, because dutch did not like that at all, with his slow, almost spelling out the word "insist," repeating arthur's word as if clarifying exactly what arthur is telling him, almost giving him a chance to go back on it. he sounds and looks angry, almost shocked at the notion, like he expected arthur to still be blindly following him after everything

and arthur can clearly tell that dutch didn't like that, his eyes are shifting and he takes a second to answer, "yeah, insist," which is just so brave of him, because this is the man who arthur has looked up to for twenty-two years, loved like a parent, who he had ruined real relationships for, his fiance, his partner and son, for again, twenty-two fucking years and yet he's standing his ground and telling dutch that yes, yes he said that, and he meant it too. he's not blindly following dutch anymore and can recognize that dutch isn't good at following through on his word, he isn't the dutch he recognizes from his memory and yet he still respects dutch so much that he still comes to him about letting them go

from this scene you can also tell that their relationship has gone so downhill, because there have been times earlier in the story where arthur has spoken out against dutch, the time when dutch tells arthur to go rescue micah comes to mind, where it's very light, almost joking in a way, but here it's very clearly a confrontation, the tension is literally suffocating that you, as the player, can feel it seeping through the screen where end up holding your breath

and dutch, like he does earlier in the story, tries to cover up his reaction, and attempts to reassure arthur that he's listening and trying to disperse the tension in the air between the two, but it doesn't work, because he can't hide what happened with his charisma, arthur's still keeping his distance from him, so instead he distracts him with the upcoming train robbery

its just so fucking good i love it so much

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde #van der linde gang #rdr2 van der linde gang #strawberry speaks

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joeys-babe · 5 months

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Joey B Blurbs: Girls Night

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Summary: girls' night out with a couple of the other WAGs and you wear something that you'd usually never wear out. It was only ever worn in the confines of your and Joe’s bedroom just for him. He wasn't home when you left, but he sure was there when you got back.

(Part one to - Part 2)

Warnings: illusions to smut, jealous Joe

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

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*Off-season before the 2023-2024 season.*

(y/n’s pov)

“Wait so does Joe even know that you’re here, or did you tell him?” - Tianna

Today the other WAGs and I went out for some drinks as a way to have a big meet-up before our lives solely revolve around our men and football.

It was also a great way to include the girlfriends, fiances, and wives of players in their first season with the team.

After that was over me and Tianna decided to get drinks before heading home.

Tianna Robillard, new Bengals player Cody Ford’s girlfriend is one of the most recent women added to the crazy bunch of amazing women with Bengal boys.

Tianna was so sweet and emitted such great vibes.

“He knows I'm here yeah. He just wasn't there when I left… and doesn't know I'm wearing this little number.” - you

Tia looked over my body to take in the black lace bodysuit with black high-waisted bootie shorts.

“Emphasis on the little. You look really good though, it's super cute. Actually, mind sending me the link?” - Tianna

“Of course!” - you laughed

“Joe doesn't strike me as the type of guy to tell you what you can and can't wear.” - Tianna

“He isn't… but this one’s kinda special to him. He's the only person that's ever seen me in it and it's his favorite outfit that I own.” - you

“I'm sure there isn't anything to worry about, it's not like you're with some other guy while wearing it.” - Tianna

“Yeah, you're right…” - you

“Just chill. It'll be fine. Let's have some fun tonight, starting with me getting another drink...” - Tianna

I laughed at the moment and followed her to the bar, on our way there some whistles were sounded out and directed towards me. Turning around to see who the origin was I found myself asking are they even 21?

Flashing my bright, shiny, big, expensive diamond engagement ring, I was met with a few annoyed groans and one shrug.

“I love it when you do that.” - Tianna laughed

“I love doing it myself. I love Joe with my entire being, it feels nice to show it.” - you

She gave me a warm smile before we grabbed more drinks.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, stories, and getting to know each other a lot more.

It was thirty minutes till midnight when Tianna dropped me back off at home. I was expecting Joe to be asleep, so when I walked into the house with my heels in hand and he was sitting on the couch I was confused.

“What are you doing up?” - you smiled

“Waiting for you. I didn't know what shape you were in and wanted to make sure you got home and to sleep okay.” - Joe

“Thanks, babe.” - you

“No problem…” - Joe

He leaned back, stretching his back and long arms with a big yawn as I made my way into the kitchen.

I placed my purse and heels on the kitchen counter before shrugging my light jacket off.

“Hey can you throw me a bottle of water please?” - Joe

“Sure. Catch!” - you

Joe sat up and turned around in the direction towards the kitchen and put his hands up to catch the bottle.

As it left my hand and I chucked it, my outfit registered in Joe’s mind, instead of the bottle hitting Joe’s hands it hit him smack in the forehead.

“Oww!” - Joe grabbed his head

“Joe!” - you

I ran out of the kitchen and into the living room to where Joe was on the couch.

His face was scrunched up in pain as he held his forehead.

“I'm sorry, baby. You zoned out on me when I threw it. I didn't mean to hit you…” - you

“Yeah, no shit.” - Joe grumbled

His tone made me mentally wince and I backed away from him slightly. Joe immediately noticed the change of my body language and how the room felt more tense.

I sighed as I stood up, grabbed my stuff, and walked upstairs to our bedroom.

Not long after I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, Joe went to open the door. I heard him cuss under his breath when he realized it was locked.

“Hey, baby? Can you open the door for me… please?” - Joe

His tone seemed slightly pleading, hoping he hadn't messed up too severely. Joe knew I hated it when someone was mad at me, and that I was a raging people-pleaser, so when someone acted slightly mad at me I shut down.

I slowly opened the door and Joe looked down at me with an apologetic look on face.

“Look… I didn't mean to come off like that. I know you didn't mean to hit me, it was my damn fault for zoning out and not catching it.” - Joe

I stared up at him as I chewed on my lower lip, Joe had worry written on his face hoping I wasn't mad at him.

“I'm sorry…” - Joe

“It's okay, I guess.” - you mumbled

“It's not okay, don't lie. I need to learn to stop being such a dick sometimes.” - Joe

“You’re not a dick, Joey… I love you.” - you

Joe smiled slightly as he pulled me into a hug. His body was warm and his big hands running over my back caused goosebumps.

“I love you too, baby.” - Joe kissed your temple

“Can I ask you something?” - you pulled back and studied his expression

“Of course.” - Joe kissed your cheek

“What gave you the deer in headlights look before I threw the water?” - you

Joe chuckled as he pulled me into his chest, his arm looped around my waist to hold me into him tighter.

He pressed his lips just under my ear and his deep voice whispered into it.

“That black lace on you. You know it's my favorite.” - Joe

“Mmm… you know I love wearing it for you.” - you

“Did you change in the garage or something before walking in then?” - Joe smirked

“No…” - you nervously chuckled

“Oh, so you had something over top of it and took it off to surprise me?” - Joe

“No…” - you

My heart rate shot up when Joe cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brows at me, please don't get mad.

“You wore that out tonight?” - Joe

“Mhm… is there a problem with that?” - You

“No ma'am. I know you're mine, it's just that not every guy in Cincinnati knows that.” - Joe

“Don’t get jealous Joe. I got catcalled once and flashed this pretty ring in the prepubescent-looking guy’s face.” - you

I laid my left hand on Joe’s chest to point out the engagement ring on my ring finger, to which Joe smirked.

“So you did get hit on?” - Joe

“I can't control that, Joe.” - you sighed

“Oh, I know you can't. I’m fully aware of how fucking gorgeous my girl is. Right now I'm just feeling like I need to show you who you wear that shit for.” - Joe

All at once every pulse point in my body set off. God, he hasn't even done anything yet and I'm already turned on.

“Who do I wear it for?” - you

“Me and me only. You understand?” - Joe

“Maybe, but I think you should really drive the point home.” - you smirked

Joe’s big hands grabbed and squeezed at my hips immediately understanding what I was insinuating.

“Be a good girl and go put it back on for me. I'll be waiting out here.” - Joe

“Yes, sir.” - you grinned and bit your lower lip

His hands pulled me flush against him and his lips were rough on mine. Joe’s tongue was gently pushing against my lower lip, asking for entrance. When I parted my lips, his tongue was tangling with mine.

“Joey” - you moaned into the kiss

That's when he pulled away and with a harsh smack on my ass, he grinned down at me.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long.” - Joe

“Of course.” - you grinned and walked into the closet before pulling it out of the dirty clothes hamper.

Joe was going to show me exactly who’s I was.

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Authors note: this ending sucked… part 2 of the real smut??

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 5 months

Text

Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

********

You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay?

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants.

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him.

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place.

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out.

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did.

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.”

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away.

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on.

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?”

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.”

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.”

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can.

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.”

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.”

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!”

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!”

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.”

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.”

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm.

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva.

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes.

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp.

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight.

“Fuckin’ fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases.

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?”

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak.

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!”

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?”

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.”

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass.

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis.

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted.

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time.

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock.

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.”

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob.

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent.

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.”

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!”

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy.

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.”

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?”

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.”

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.”

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.”

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy.

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.”

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are.

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?”

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.”

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

#smutty smut #my works #black fanfic writer #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #feral gojo #happy birthday gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut

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lilahisntsadanymore · 6 months

Text

Engaged to an Italian man and carrying a secret pregnancy, Y/n must decide when and how to reveal the news to her notorious family.

The reader pronouns: she/her

Pairings: the Shelby family x shelby!reader x OC (faceclaim Lorenzo Zurzolo)

Words count: 2.4k

Tw: mentions of death, pregnancy, italian written by me (but there are english translations)

Additional inf.: Y/n's mother, was made up by me as well

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

A Shelby Surprise

Now that the vendetta with Changrettas was over, everyone could take a breath. Finally all the stress was gone and for once the Shelby family wasn't in trouble. They hoped it would stay this way.

The stress was gone, but not for Y/n, Arthur's daughter. What nobody expected coming, she fell in love. What was so unfortunate about this? The man was Italian.

If it happened a few years earlier or a few years later maybe that would have been alright. But not right now when the memory of vendetta was still crystal clear.

The man Y/n fell in love with wasn't a Changretta, but she supposed it wouldn't matter to her family. As long as the vendetta was still a fresh topic, he would be a bad man in their eyes.

As if the problem wasn't big enough, Y/n got pregnant. The man knew about it and wanted to be present in the kid's life, he even proposed to Y/n. But the challange was to tell Y/n's family about it.

So there she was - calling each family member, inviting them for a little 'party'. Y/n had no experience in this stuff, so she considered it the best way, telling everyone at the same time when they're gathered together.

"It'll be fine," Y/n's fiance said, squeezing her hand lightly. "What's the worst that could happen? Will they murder me?" He laughed.

"You really didn't know what you're signing up for when you fucked a Shelby, did you?"

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"Non voglio dirgli della gravidanza,"* Y/n paced around the living room, waiting for the guests to arrive. "What if we only tell them about our engagement?"

*I don't want to tell them about the pregnancy

"Non possiamo, cara mia. La noteranno prima o poi."**

**we can't, my dear. They'll notice it sooner or later.

Right after those words, the sound of knocking filled the room.

Y/n took a deep breath. "Hide upstairs, Nicco. I'll call for you when it's the right time."

The man walked in the direction she instructed as she herself went to open the door.

The Shelby clan. In front of Y/n's doors. Waiting to be let inside. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to tell everyone in the same time.

Despite her running heartbeat, Y/n tried to stay calm as she greeted each person that entered her house.

Something was off when Y/n hugged aunt Polly. The woman eyed her up and down. Did she know? Most likely. She sensed it when Lizzie was pregnant, so why wouldn't she now?

"You probably wonder why we've gathered here today." Y/n spoke, her gesturing more intense than ever. She tried to make her voice sound as light and free of stress as possible, but it was a difficult thing to do due to the anxious feeling in her stomach. Either the stress or the baby inside was making Y/n want to puke right there.

"Yes, we'd love to know." Polly said, a faint smile on her face.

Everyone had their eyes glued to Y/n. Ada watched the girl with worry, as well as Linda who treated Y/n as her own, Polly was fighting the smile from completely ruling on her face, Finn looked extremely confused, Tommy lit up a cigarette.

"Are you in trouble?" Arthur asked eventually.

"Yes and no." That answer didn't clear up anything.

"What do you mean?"

A nervous laugh escaped Y/n's mouth. "Do you remember mum? My mum, your wife, who died many years ago?"

Arthur nodded confusedly. How could he not remember her? He would never forget that amazing woman, who gave him love, hope and a beautiful daughter and then passed away too soon.

"I remember Georgia." Arthur didn't want to talk about her. Years passed and now he had Linda, but the wound caused by his first wife's death was still open.

"Dad, her name was Giorgia. She was Italian, don't try to rewrite that story. The reason why I'm reminding you about it is..." Y/n hesitated fr the last time, "I hope you'll understand my situation."

The times were different back when Arthur and Giorgia were together. Back then, she was just a simple girl who moved to England from Italy and fell in love with a man from Birmingham. There wasn't any vendetta, so their relationship wasn't such a sensitive topic, but nevertheless Y/n hoped her father would understand.

"Can you stop the charade?" Tommy chimed in impatiently.

Y/n nodded. "Niccolò, come here!"

The tall, brownhaired man walked down into the living room. He was dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and elegant black shoes.

"Everyone, this is Niccolò. Niccolò, this is my family."

Everyone eyed the man. Tommy and Arthur were especially suspicious about him.

Niccolò shook hands with each Shelby, taking the time to introduce himself better and get to know everyone.

When the man lastly got to Arthur and Tommy, they refused to shake hands with him, their arms remaining crossed on his chest.

Arthur looked at his daughter. "Why are you introducing him to us?"

"Seriously?" Y/n sighed. "Dad, are you this clueless?"

"Yes, Arthur, are you this clueless?" Polly asked with a full smile on her face now.

Arthur wasn't clueless. He suspected, he knew, but he didn't want it to be the truth.

"Niccolò is my fiance."

The room fell almost silent, if it wasn't for Finn's coughing. He choked on the air and smoke, he was lighting up a cigarette when Y/n broke the news. Finn was her uncle, but they were rather like siblings to each other, because Y/n was even a few years older than Finn.

"He's your what?" Arthur asked.

"Fiance. I'm sorry I haven't told you before, but I was afraid of your reaction."

"An Italian, eh?" Tommy interrogated, shifting his gaze to Niccolò. "Who are your parents? What do they do?"

Y/n added, "O digli il tuo cognome e lo scoprirà entro domani."***

***or say your last name and he'll find it all out by tomorrow

Niccolò smirked and the girl's comment, but then turned back to being serious. "They moved to this country before I was born. My father died in the war, but my mother has a flower shop in London."

"A flower shop?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting."

"I see what you're doing," Y/n said, "Nicco has nothing to do with the Changrettas."

"It's just funny how he appears in your life exactly when-"

"Yes, vendetta, I know. Can we talk in private, dad?"

Arthur and his daughter walked out of the room into a small kitchen. Y/n leaned on the kitchen counter.

"Can you stop?"

"Stop what?" Arthur asked. "I'm just trying to get to know my future son-in-law."

"Can you do it without making it seem like you're looking for a correlation between him and the Changrettas?"

"I don't want him to hurt you. Or any of us. Isn't it any suspicious to you?"

"It's a stupid coincidence!"

Arthur sighed, looking at his daughter with a mixture of concern and skepticism. "Y/n, you know how things are around here. We've been through hell with the Changrettas, and now you bring an Italian man into our lives. You can't expect me not to be cautious."

"I understand, but he's not connected to the Changrettas in any way. I wouldn't put our family in danger like that," Y/n pleaded.

Arthur rubbed his forehead, contemplating the situation. "You could have at least given us a heads up. This is a lot to take in all at once."

He was trying his best to remain calm. The old Arthur would've bursted out of the house a long time ago, but now he was in control of his emotions.

A lot to take at once. Prepare for more, then, Y/n thought.

"I know, dad, but I was scared. Exactly because of that. I'm sorry, but we really do love each other."

"Just promise me, if anything feels wrong, you'll let me know. I don't want you keeping secrets."

"I promise, dad. I won't keep secrets. I want us to be a family, including Niccolò."

Arthur forced a smile. "Alright, let's go back out there. I'll try my best to keep an open mind, for your sake."

Poor Niccolò was left alone with the Shelbys. It was a weight off his shoulders when Y/n was back in the room.

Everyone looked at Arthur curiously. He spoke. "We'll give it a chance. But you," he pointed at Niccolò, "hurt her, and there won't be a place on earth you can hide from us."

Niccolò nodded respectfully. "I understand, sir."

"Can we all just enjoy the evening and celebrate this occasion that is our engagement?" Y/n asked cheerfully.

The atmosphere felt lighter, the family peacefully continued the gathering. Most of them wanted to trust Niccolò and give him a chance.

Arthur and Thomas kept a close eye on Niccolò throughout the night. Their suspicions weren't easy to put to rest, but for Y/n's sake they chose to keep their mouths shut this one time.

After dinner Y/n and Niccolò managed to talk to Finn alone. Y/n decided that the pregnancy would be too much for just one evening and all her fiance could do was accept it. However, they trusted Finn with this information.

"Finn, we have to tell you something." Y/n said after she made sure everyone else is busy.

"Oh no, another big news?" Finn whined. "I don't know if this family can handle more tonight."

"That's why we wanted to talk to you alone," Niccolò pointed out, "it's a secret."

Y/n added, "A secret just for you, Finn. The mission is to keep it until we can tell the others. You understand, soldier?"

"Alright, I guess." Finn agreed with a curious expression on his face. "You didn't kill anybody, did you?"

"No, of course we didn't."

"Quite the opposite," Niccolò added with a chuckle. "Y/n is pregnant."

Finn raised his eyebrow and joked. ""Engaged and having a baby... You didn't waste any time, did you?"

"Proposing is the right action to make once you knock somebody up," Nicco chuckled, "but seriously, it was actually planned."

Y/n giggled, "Life comes at you fast, Finn. Engaged and having a baby. We wanted to share the news with you first."

"Besides it'd be a lot to handle in one evening." Niccolò grinned. "We'll make the announcement in the right time."

Finn shook his head in disbelief, "I can't believe you decided to put so much pressure on me!" He laughed. "Am I supposed to lie to Tommy and Arthur?"

"Like you haven't lied to them before." Y/n pointed out sarcastically. "They aren't going to ask you any questions."

As they headed back to join the family, Finn couldn't help but wear a mischievous grin. The rest of the Shelbys continued their celebration oblivious to the news.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

A few days later, aunt Polly paid a visit to Y/n and Niccolò, surprising the both of them. Despite the surprise, they couldn't not let her inside.

"I need to talk to Y/n," the woman said, "it's a ladies business. Be so kind, Niccolò, and find something to do for the next... half an hour."

Niccolò raised an eyebrow at the request but decided not to push it. "Alright, take your time, ladies." He grabbed his coat, a pack of cigarettes and walked outside.

Polly and Y/n settled into the living room, the air heavy with curiosity. Polly took a moment, eyeing Y/n.

"I know you're hiding something," the woman said, lighting up a cigarette, "and I wanna hear it from you. I'm giving you a chance here."

"Am I hiding anything?" Y/n tried to convinvnce Polly that she was wrong. But she knew the woman has been a little different recently.

Tommy and Michael thought she's starting to go crazy or maybe it's the alcohol that she seemed to be drinking a bit more often, but Polly knew she had been blessed. Blessed with the gift of contacting spirits, predicting certain things.

"Let's start from here. Are you keeping it?"

Y/n's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not gonna tell your father if you don't want me to. I was in your shoes once. I know a place, we will go there and-"

"Yes, I'm keeping it."

Polly smiled widely. "That's wonderful. Would you like to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"We want it to be a surprise. Besides I don't think it's safe to do... whatever magic you do on a pregnant woman."

"It's not magic, my dear. You can't read cards or tea leaves for a pregnant woman, but I just sense it's a-"

"A surprise. Please, please, please, I really don't wanna find out yet."

"Alright... and now, why didn't you tell us? Any of us?"

"Wasn't that a little bit too much in too little time?" Y/n scratched the back of her neck nervously. "Didn't wanna add to the chaos."

Y/n decided to not mention the fact that Finn actually knew about it.

Aunt Polly studied Y/n for a moment before nodding approvingly. "Well, love, you've made your bed, now you have to lie in it. But I'm not here to scold you. I just want to make sure you're ready for what's coming."

"I know it won't be easy, but I'm ready. I have a husband, almost. I have a house. We can make it."

"Remember, you also have us. Me and Ada can certainly help you with the baby. I'm sure Linda will also love this new little Shelby."

"The baby isn't going to be a Shelby... I'll go with Nicco's last name."

Polly leaned back, taking a thoughtful drag from her cigarette. "Fair enough. But remember, secrets have a way of coming out, especially in this family. And when they do, it's usually in the most dramatic way possible."

"I'll tell the rest of the family soon... can you come with me to dad and Tommy? I'm a bit scared to tell them..."

"Of course, love. There's nothing you should be afraid of, you're a grown woman. When your mother was your age, you were running barefoot in my backyard."

Y/n smiled at the comment. "Thank you, Aunt Polly. I appreciate your support."

Polly stood up, stubbing out her cigarette. She gave Y/n a hug before heading to the door. "Now, take care of yourself and that little surprise of yours. And let me know when you're ready for me to do whatever 'magic' you think I do."

As Polly left, Y/n couldn't help but be grateful for the unexpected ally in her corner. She suddenly felt much more confident.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagines #lorenzo zurzolo x reader #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #aunt polly #arthur shelby daughter reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

Little Backstabber

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader

Warning: Angst, angst just pure angst, some fluff, Max is a Toto apologist, the reader is just hurting, Max has no respect for that

Requested: Yes/No

Rating: PG-13

Words: 2.3K

A/N: Hahahahaha I’m sorry (not really)

Part 1: Little Traitor

Pt.3 Little Heartbreaker

Breaking News: Max Verstappen and Y/N Wolff Announce Their Engagement

Toto stares out the window as Susie reads the newspaper out loud during breakfast. Laying the newspaper down, she gazes at her husband as he doesn't say a word, not even turning to acknowledge what she has read.

"Toto, maybe tell her how happy you are for her?" Susie mumbles over her coffee cup, which has his eyes cut to her.

"I called my daughter a slut; she doesn't want to hear from me. But, can you?" He asks, laying his glasses down as he rubs his eyes.

"No, I will not." Susie snips, sitting her cup down harshly.

He just nods, not preaching the topic anymore since it's been a strain between them.

"Y/n? Angel? Where are you?" Max yells, seeing your boxes piled up in his place, but it doesn't make him angry; pride and other cavemen's feelings cover his mind as he stops seeing you in the kitchen.

You danced in the kitchen wearing a Redbull shirt and dark blue panties, clearly, nothing else. Hair is thrown up, and you are just enjoying yourself.

"God, I love you." He whispers, still not letting you know he is home. Home. It was weird for you to call this place home, but it felt right.

You spin around but stop halfway to seeing the figure and scream.

Max laughs, which calms you down immediately, knowing it is your fiance and not some stranger. You hold your chest, trying to calm down as he just reduces to giggles walking up to you, pulling your hands gently. You let him pull your body into his, both bodies molding perfectly in the hug as he whispers comforting words.

"You scared me." You laugh, rubbing his back as his chest shakes yours with his laugh again.

"Oh het spijt me, zat gewoon naar mijn bloedmooie verloofde te staren." (Oh I'm sorry, was just staring at my gorgeous fiancee) He laughs making you slap his chest.

You've started to perfect your Dutch after Max proposed to you; you had always spoken Dutch, but not comfortably, and now you could converse with him.

"The press released our engagement announcement today. It's in the newspapers." He mumbles, leaning back slightly to kiss your forehead.

"Yes, I know. Susie sent her congratulations." Your tone sour.

After everything with your father, you refused to go anywhere near Mercedes, even keeping away from Lewis and Geroge, who sided with your father. Your stepmother tried her best, but you didn't want to talk to them, much less think about them. Max makes a noise but doesn't say anything. There have been multiple arguments about your family and what to do regarding the wedding. You didn't want them there, no invitations or anything. Why should people who constantly let you down throughout your life be welcomed to the day of embracing your new one?

"Don't, Max." You noted the noise and pulled away from him, returning to the counter and fixing lunch for the both of you.

"I just......he's your father. He should be there when we're married." He groans, pulling his hair slightly with annoyance.

"No." Is all you say, making Max drop the conversation and look over your shoulder at what you're preparing. He smiles, seeing the potatoes, onion, carrot, and cabbage beside the smoked sausages.

"You're making Stamppot?" He asks, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder, able to see the tension fade away.

"Yes, it's slightly chilly out, and I figured it'd be good and healthy since you can't eat certain foods." You mumble, trying to get around your irritation with Max.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, touching your wrist and stopping you from chopping the cabbage.

"Just, why can't you understand? You were able to work out your issues with your father, but mine? I can't. So stop." You pull your wrist away from his fingers and continue chopping the cabbage.

Max nods his head and walks away, heading to his Sim. Hearing his footsteps enter the den, you drop your head and stare at the gorgeous ring on your finger. It's a stunning natural blue sapphire with a daisy oval shape, little diamonds aline it, with a gold band holding it all together. Max had the ring specially crafted for you; he had the idea of the ring for a while now. He knew you weren't big on diamonds, so he set on a sapphire. Cliche, but he picked one closest to the RB color, a final stamp to show people that you were his and you weren't going anywhere.

You loved the ring, Max, and your little life together. It terrified you that if your father came back into your life, to your wedding. He'd ruin it all. Shaking off the evil thoughts, you get back to cooking the lunch. Time passes with you cooking and listening to Max curse the Sim, potting the Stamppot. You gently carry Max's bowel to him and sit it on the desk.

Max pauses it immediately and turns around in his chair, looking up at you; from the look on his face, he clearly has something to say.

"If it's about my father, keep it to yourself." You warn, Max automatically turning back around to the Sim and hitting play.

"I think you'll regret it." Max mumbles, but you ignore the comment and head to the bedroom sitting on the bed.

You reach under the bed, pull out this little black box, and open it, your father and your smiling face greeting you. You kept all your childhood pictures of your father or postcards from when he was traveling around the world. Each one had his familiar writing on the back, each word etched into your brain. Each praise, love, how much he loved you, missed you, couldn't wait to see you. Where did it all go wrong? Why did he leave you? Why weren't you worthy or made him proud enough? Why?

Swallowing the tears, you put the lid back on and slide it back under the bed. Max stands at the cracked door, watching you hide the box, the one you thought he knew nothing of. He knew your father should be at the wedding, he knew that's what you wanted, but you couldn't see past your anger and hurt. Max understood, but he knew the best for the both of you would be inviting Toto to the wedding.

Stepping away from the door, he grabs his phone and pulls up Toto's number. Don't ask why he has it. He just does.

You're invited to the wedding, don't fuck up this opportunity; see you on July 1st at 7 pm at Hotel de Paris.

Max hits sent and watches as the text is read automatically. The 3 bubbles pop up and then go away. This continues for about 15 minutes until the text returns, making Max scuff slightly, but glad to see Toto answered.

Thank you for the invite, we'll be there.

Clearly, Suise was helping the man answer the text, but in the end, Toto gave his curt answer, and that was that. Max wasn't going to tell you what he had done, but he knew that you'd come around in time for the wedding and invite Toto and Suise, but it was his secret for now. Of course, telling Toto you had no idea he was invited doesn't occur to him, but he'll worry about that later.

"Baby?" Max yells down the hall, and you emerge quickly, worried something is wrong.

"What?" You ask, looking around the apartment, ready for an issue, but all he sees is Max sitting on the couch.

"I apologize. I know the relationship with your father isn't like mine, and I should leave it be, and I will. No more talk about it. I'll let you go at your own pace. But just know, if we have kids, he needs a chance, and that's all I'm saying on the topic." Max sighs, catching his breath from his little rant.

"I love you." You whisper, walking over and kissing him. Max smiles and pulls you down, having you lay on top of him.

At this moment, everything was perfect, until 4 weeks later.

You're walking home when you see a present sitting at your door, you weren't expecting a package so you look at the address and see it was from Susie. Sighing, you lean down and pick it up. Shocked by the weight, you stumble into the place and set it on the coffee table. Opening the box, you pull out the brown paper and freeze, seeing what is in the box.

There was a transparent glass collage of you and Max lined with your favorite flowers, and on the bottom were gold words engraved.

If I were the moon, I would want you to be my night

You stare at the words, knowing those words deeply. Your father always wrote quotes on the back of your postcards. This was the last quote he wrote you before it all fell apart. You pick up one of the smaller boxes with shaky hands and open it. You can't help the tears that start to fall.

It was this small tiara, but not any tiara. It was a baroque crystal pearl tiara with very two rows of diamonds; on the top, pearls sat on top. It was gorgeous, but you felt your inner child's heartbreak. He remembered. When you were younger, you and your father walked past this old antique boutique in the front window and sat this same tiara; it was crazy expensive. You didn't even tell Toto that you wanted the tiara; you just stared at it and then kept walking down the street. But he did remember, after dropping you off at your mother's, he circled back and bought it. He kept it for the day you'd get married and thought he would hand it to you in person, telling you how much he loved you and was proud of the woman you've become, but instead.....he had to send it to you through a box.

Sitting down, you grab the last box, opening it as a watch for Max. On the back was the first date you two ever had. But, the inscription was in Toto's handwriting. How he knew it that date was beyond your knowledge. Something catches your eye, making you sit the watch down to pick it up. It was a card.

Opening the card, you scan the words, but one sentence catches your attention.

Thank you for the invitation, we can't wait to see you and Y/n tie the knot. Much love from Susie and Toto

You stare at the words before they dawn on you. Max. He invited them. After you told him you didn't want them there, he still asked them and did it without notifying you. Time passed by you, and nothing made you move until you heard Max's keys in the door.

"Hey love, I'm home!" Max called, having a great day. He couldn't wait to see you.

Walking into the living room, he smiles brightly seeing you but stops seeing the emotionless look on your face. He looks at the box and then back to you before you slam the card down, finally looking at him.

"You bastard." You whisper, shaking your head. You feel this hot rage boiling inside you, but your throat gets tighter and tighter with each passing of time.

"He's your father." He whispers, knowing what the box means. Toto must've sent a gift or something and probably told you on a card that he was invited.

"He LEFT ME!" You scream, moving away from the box to stand before Max.

"You both left each other! Why can't you see that he's been trying!" Max snaps, tired of this back-and-forth argument.

"I was 14. What do you want from me, Max? He was the adult; he should've tried. It's not my job!" You yell, not wanting to talk about this anymore.

"When he reached out to you, we were 16, we had just had our first date, and he called you. You didn't answer the phone and said you'd call him back. But you never did. That showed him you didn't care anymore. Why would he try with someone who didn't even try either." Max argues. This shocks you. How could someone who not even 6 months ago defend you against your father was now being his most prominent advocate.

"Be..because I was a kid." You retort, lost for words.

"See, you can't tell me why you're still angry at him. We're adults, Y/n, let the past be the past." Max sighs, running his fingers through his hair before reaching for you.

You pull away from his reach; hurt and rejection shatter Max's face as he slowly drops his arms. You take a few deep breaths, fiddling with the ring. Max watches, panic overtaking any sense he has.

"Don't, don't do this." He whispers, staring at the ring on your finger.

"How can I marry someone who doesn't respect my wishes, someone who defends the man who called me a slut. The person who made me feel less of myself my entire life, and here the person who is supposed to protect, stand by me, and love me, defends them. How can I marry you after this?" You ask, pulling the ring off.

"No, please, Y/n, don't." Max breaks. He can't keep it together anymore as he watches you sit the ring before him. Tears slide down his face as he watches you grab your shoes and keys.

"Don't leave me, don't please. Not again." He whispers, grabbing you as you try to hide your own tears.

"You betrayed me." You whisper, pulling yourself out of his hold and walking out the door. As you close the door, all you hear is a scream and glass shattering as you walk away from the love of your life.

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