#where the wild things are moodboard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cuntdestroyer3000 · 9 months

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Godless

moodboard not meant to be a physical description of reader, just her vibes/clothes

western au! dark!outlaw!Joel Miller x f!prostitute!reader playlist part two here

My contribution to dead dove December hehehe. I love dead doves so I'm very happy to participate! @romana-after-dark

Summary: You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

word count: ~5.6k

DARK, dead dove: minors dni!! rough smut, prostitution, reader gets called a whore, sexual slavery, being bought/sold, angst, being owned and considered property, descriptions of men being violent with each other, Joel is possessive and very dominant, reader is very submissive, stockholm syndrome. dubcon, reader obeys but she doesn't have a choice. It's only gonna get darker from here mamas. Unprotected sex, STDs don’t exist in this universe, yeehaw. No use of y/n

A/N: Prepare for light old timey language. Yeehaw shit, in my heart I am a wild west man. Also I have no fucking idea what kind of money they used in the wild west so I just wrote gold coins lmao. Reader doesn't necessarily have a specific accent but she talks like an old timey western person, reader is just a girl in the world, god bless her. set in old west California LAWLESS LAND CALI WAS CRAZY BACK THEN BRUH

You tried to even your breathing as you hurriedly did your makeup, slapping your powder onto your face frantically. The other girls scurried around you, the collective energy was tense and you all shared a feeling of anxiety that was rising as the minutes ticked on.

The bar always went into a frenzy whenever Joel Miller and his men rode through town. You hadn’t been working here for that long but you’d already been here long enough for their visits. His men were animals, every girl dreaded it when they came to the brothel.

Joel and his men are shameless, getting drunk in the saloon and picking fights, riding through town and plundering all the folks living there, demanding "payments" in the form of money, food, jewelry, anything they could find that was worth taking. Payments that the people of your town made so that he would let them keep living there. He made it clear that we could wipe out the whole town if he wanted to, leaving you a people without anything. And that's if he left you all alive.

You hadn’t been living in the town that long. After your father died, you set off west with a man who you thought had loved you. Things had fallen out with him when you finally reached California, and he had left you all alone in this scary new world.

Luckily the people of the town had taken you in, but your shelter and safety came at a price. When you arrived, you had nowhere to live, no money, nothing.

The town brothel seemed like the only solution. You had a place to live, a job, a community. You made peace with having to let men defile you. Most of them were nice enough and your pimp took good care of all of you.

This world was cruel, you did what you needed to do to get by.

You adjusted your breasts where they sat in your low cut dress, pushed up by your corset. You fixed your hair and adjusted the garter on your stockings.

“Well at least we look nice.” A voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts.

You turned and tried to muster a smile for your friend, Anna-Leigh, who was pinning up her blonde curls.

She clocked your fear and reached out her hand to take yours. You couldn’t look at her because if you did you’d cry, and you couldn’t afford to smudge the black pigment you’d put on your eyelashes.

“I know you don’t want to, honey.” She said softly, “But we’ve gone through this before.” Her southern accent never failed to soothe you.

You nodded,

“Yeah.” You sniffled.

“They’re gonna do what they always do, we just gotta deal with it and then they leave.” She said firmly.

“And if they really give us trouble, Mr. Polk will put a stop to it right quick.”

You nodded a little more confidently, remembering that your pimp, Mr. Polk kept a gun on his hip every hour of the day.

No longer able to delay the inevitable, you took a deep breath, and followed your friend and the other girls out of the vanity area and down to the saloon.

Walking down the stairs, you analyze the chaotic scene. You’ve managed to understand how to navigate it so as to not cause any trouble. Keep your head down, be a good girl, let them do what they want and then they leave. Your pimp paid you all extra whenever Joel's men came through. Sometimes he’d give you all new dresses, it does make you feel better but it does little to ease the aching between your legs that persists whenever he and his men visit.

You all disperse and walk among the crowd. Usually most girls will immediately go and talk a man up but now you all just stand around awkwardly, letting men approach you and take you upstairs, or just take you right down here.

You’re taken upstairs a few times by a few different men. And later on, you’re sitting in a very drunk man’s lap down in the saloon with your breasts out, smoking a cigarette. He's playing a poker game and slowly losing everything.

Your eyes scan your surroundings: men brawling, naked women bent over, their legs splayed open. The usual.

Through the clamor around you, you can feel his eyes on you.

Joel Miller.

You'd seen him before, and his cold gaze had made your skin crawl.

You knew he was dangerous and you’d heard the stories about him. You’d never talked to him, only seen him when he came by. After making his rounds through the town, he’d just sit at the bar and drink as his men ran wild. To your knowledge, he didn’t even have sex with any of the girls.

You tried to avoid his gaze but you could feel his eyes on you through the thick haze of smoke. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome, weathered from the desert sun. His soft brown hair was laced with gray, just like his short scruffy beard. He looked like could've been a man that was kind, if it wasn't for the dead stare in his eyes. Meeting his eyes you could see how cold blooded he was, how merciless.

After a while, Joel instructed his men to gather everything up. The barkeep and your pimp seemed like they couldn’t wait to get rid of them, their regulars bloodied and slumped over, the bar a mess.

You were pulling the top of your dress back over your breasts when you spotted Joel speaking to your pimp, who was looking distressed. Your stomach churned. That couldn’t be good.

You were on your way up the stairs when you heard your name being called, panic flooded your system.

You turned, frozen. Your heart was pounding as the other girls ran by you.

Anna-Leigh tugged your arm, "C'mon!"

You turned and the only thing you could do was shake your head.

"What's wrong?" She asked, confused.

Your pimp, growing impatient, walked up the stairs and grabbed your elbow, dragging you down.

"I know y'don't want to." He grumbled, "But I'm not bein' given much of'a choice."

Your feet dragged on the wood as you struggled to catch your footing. Did Joel suddenly decide he wanted to fuck you? Mr. Polk yanked you over to him.

Joel's broad form towered over you as you approached. You felt small under his gaze, you'd never been this close to him before. You took in his scent of desert dirt and sweat. His broad shoulders, hulking biceps and soft stomach stretched his stained white button down. The fringe on his cowhide jacket swayed as he took his hat off his head and ran a hand through his graying curls.

You stood looking up at him, eyes wide. He looked down at you without a hint of warmth and grabbed your arm roughly, spinning you around.

You gasped at his touch and anticipated to be bent over and have your skirt hiked up. Instead he just looked at you and turned you back to face him. He made an approving grunt and nodded his head.

"Yeah." His voice was deep and gruff, "This one."

He reached into his bag on the bar and pulled out a sack that he let fall open, gold coins falling out all over the counter.

You started to feel sick.

"Give you this for her." He said casually.

A spike of fear bolted through you.

"W-what?"

Your pimp sighed and turned to you,

"Go get y'things honey."

"What?" That felt like all you could say, "N-no."

You turned to see Anna-Leigh and the other girls staring at you. Your friend looked just as terrified as you felt. Tears freed themselves from your eyes.

"God damnit girl I said go get your fucking things." Mr. Polk yelled and gave you a shake. You looked at Joel who simply nodded his head up, as if telling you to go upstairs.

You sniffled and ran up the stairs, your sobs breaking through as you graced the landing and echoing as you flung yourself into your room.

You hiccuped as you threw your few belongings into a suitcase, everything blurred as you cried.

You were only able to get a few items packed before you broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

You suddenly felt the arms of your friend wrapping around you as other girls gathered around you, all stroking and hugging you.

You blinked back tears and tried to speak but you couldn’t. They just held you as you all cried. There wasn’t really anything they could say to make things better anyway.

You gasped and shuddered, trying to catch your breath. Anna-Leigh took your face in her hands,

“It’s okay, baby, breathe.” She said, tears falling down her face as well. You shook your head and kept crying.

Your pimp appeared in the doorway, looking mournful as he held his hat in his hands.

“How dare you!” Anna-Leigh screamed at him from where she held you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking down, “It’s either her or they take all a’you. Destroy the bar, hell maybe even the whole town.”

You cried harder, realizing that there was truly no way out of this. If you didn’t go with Joel, you’d be damning your sisters. You let out a final anguished cry before you got up shakily and continued to pack your things. You went down to the bar which was quiet, the men all watching with bated breath.

Mr. Polk escorted you down and you walked over to Joel again, whose smirk made you nauseous. You looked down at the floor as one of his men took your bag from you.

“Alright sweetheart.” Your pimp murmured, “You be good for Mr. Miller now.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face silently.

“Move out.” Joel addressed his men.

It hit you again that you were really leaving and you started sobbing again.

“No please!” You begged your pimp, “Don’t let him take me please!”

Joel reached out and grabbed your arm,

“I ain’t got time for this girl!” He sneered and ripped you away.

“No…” you cried as he dragged you along.

Anna-Leigh ran up and hugged you one last time. Joel let her, but made an irritated noise and squeezed you painfully when she took too long.

She pulled away and grabbed your face in her hands.

“You can do this.” She said, her voice breaking, “You’re gonna be strong.”

You hiccuped and shook your head,

“Be strong ok?” She nodded at you as Joel finally wrenched you away.

“That’s enough!” He barked, “I’ve already been mighty patient with you folks. Stop fuckin’ testing me!”

Everyone stared at him, silent and full of fear.

You could only cry harder as he dragged you outside. He picked you up and set you on his horse, untying its reigns from the post.

“Hey!” You heard a voice call out and turned on the horse to see one of your drunken regulars, stumbling towards you,

“Thas’ my favorite whore!” He slurred, “My favorite fuckin’ whore, y’can’t-“ he hiccuped and stumbled. The people of the town shuffled out of their houses to watch the action.

Joel smiled at the man coldly,

“That’s your favorite whore, huh?” He asked, standing over him. He rolled him over with the toe of his boot.

“M-my whore.” The man warbled.

Joel didn’t really know why but white hot rage shot through him. He inhaled sharply and stomped on the man’s face, hard. He heard you gasp from the back of his horse which only ignited him further.

“She’s my fuckin’ whore now!” He yelled and spat in his face.

Fueled by rage and power, he turned to his right hand with an idea.

“Get me the rope, John.”

The man writhed on the ground, moaning and clutching his face. Joel approached the back of his horse with the rope, making you shuffle back in fear.

“Relax darlin’ this ain’t for you.” He breathed and tied the end of it to the saddle. Then, he turned to the man and bent down, tying the rope around his hands above his head.

You watched in shock and heard people around you, whispering.

“Alright!” Joel said after he was done. He got up onto the horse in front of you.

“Hold on baby.” He said softly and you reluctantly wrapped your arms around his middle.

Adrenaline coursed through him at the thought of the freedom of the mountains, of riding out of this stupid town with a pretty girl on his horse and a worthless drunk at his mercy. He turned to see John, who was giving him a knowing smile, the one he always gave him before they rode.

“Let’s ride.” Joel said, his voice gravelly like the desert sand. Before you could blink, they urged their horses onward and took off at high speed. You couldn’t help but let out a little scream as you startled and grabbed at him.

Your noise of shock was substituted by the agonized screams of the man being pulled by Joel’s horse. Begging and crying just like you had earlier.

You turned and watched the town get smaller, Anna-Leigh stood at the front of the crowd and gave you a pitiful wave. You looked down and saw the bloody body of the man.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned back around, whimpering as you buried your face in Joel’s broad back.

Your tears stained his jacket as you rode away from the place that you had made your home. Towards a terrifying, shackled future.

As you journeyed on, you sat behind Joel on his horse, your hands clinging to his weathered leather jacket. His silence only made you more uneasy.

You feared for what the future held, gone was the stability of the brothel, the protection of your pimp. You were in a lawless land with a man who answered to no one. You’d heard the stories about Joel Miller, about the things he’d done.

You didn’t know how he’d treat a woman, if he’d be rough or gentle. Or if he’d throw you to his men. That was what you were the most afraid of.

You traveled for hours, eventually setting up camp as the sun began to set. As the air grew colder, Joel passed you a thick blanket to wrap around yourself. You sat in front of the fire with him as his men kept themselves occupied.

You brooded as you stared into the fire. You were still kind of in shock. This man had taken you away from everything, your life was gone. You didn't know if you were ever going to see your friends again.

You didn't realize, when you'd started spreading your legs for men, that this could happen. That you could be bought and sold like cattle.

You were scared for life with this godless outlaw. You didn't even know where you'd be living. Would you just sleep out in the desert like this? Would you spend the rest of your days being pounded by vicious men into the hard, dry earth?

"Want ‘sum meat?" Joel's gruff voice broke you from your thoughts. You turned to him apprehensively. He held out a piece of dried meat, offering it to you.

"Go on."

You slowly took it from him and took a bite like a scared wild animal. It was pretty good.

"Thank you." You said softly.

Joel looked satisfied with your response, you were both quiet for a while longer until you finally couldn't help yourself.

“Is this uh…” You spoke and he looked over to you, the fire casting sharp shadows across his handsome features.

“Is this how you normally live?” You finally asked, hoping you weren’t being disrespectful.

Joel shook his head after a moment.

“We’re travelin’ now.” He said, “but we got a place, nice and comfortable for a lady.”

You smiled a little bit at that last part.

“Thank you sir.” You wished you didn’t sound so scared, “I was just curious.”

“S’alright.” He grumbled out and began focusing on whittling a piece of wood.

The journey was hard but you tried your best to keep up. Joel never raised his voice at you, he didn’t really talk to you all that much in general. He hadn’t even touched you yet either. It seemed he was focused on getting everyone home.

His strength and capability drew you to him, but he still scared you.

After days of traveling, you finally reached where he and his men lived; a small grouping of cabins a mile or so away from a small village. It was just as well, since the sun was beginning to set over the horizon.

You still weren't sure what to think. Joel has been gentlemanly towards you so far. He still scared you though. His smoldering silence made you more uneasy than any unsavory man you'd ever encountered. He kept all his cards concealed, barely spoke, only when he needed to. His calm felt like that which preceded a storm, he commanded respect.

You didn't know what to expect from him.

You entered one of the larger cabins with Joel. It was nice, modest, and smelled of carpentry and tobacco. He set down his lantern on one of the wooden tables and dropped your things down with a slight groan.

His men unloaded everything, then they all nodded at each other and all left, closing the door and leaving you with Joel.

He moved purposefully, picking up wood from a corner and moving to the fireplace.

"Need to get a fire goin'." You heard his deep voice in the near darkness. The shadows thrown on his broad back made him seem even larger than he already was.

You didn't move, unsure of what to do, not wanting to make him mad.

After a fire was crackling he moved towards you silently, the wood creaking under his heavy footsteps. You resisted the urge to shrink away from him.

He was so close to you now, right in front of you.

"You were a real good girl on that trip." He said, his gravelly voice soft, the sound immediately went to your cunt and you were shocked at how aroused you suddenly became.

You weren't sure what to say, you kept your eyes down, your hands behind your back.

He held your jaw and tilted your face up to look at him.

"You need to keep bein' good." He said, his tone a warning, "You don't cause any fuckin' trouble, you do what I say."

You felt breathless, the feeling of his hand on your face setting you on fire.

"Yes sir." You said quickly.

He smiled softly, "Good girl." He said gently and, to your shock, leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You gasped a little.

"Remember," His voice was still soft and velvety, "I own you now." He gripped the back of your neck tightly, "That means you're mine and I decide what to do with you."

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat. You wanted to cry. You never liked being a prostitute, but at least at the brothel you were free, not a man's property. At least, you thought you'd been.

But Joel had paid for you fair and square. You were his now.

You whimpered a little at the thought and he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back,

"Answer me when I talk to you girl." He spat.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry!" you choked out.

Seeming satisfied, he let go and patted your cheek, then moved away. It felt like you could finally breathe.

"I'm gonna get us some supper ," He said, "You stay here, make yourself at home."

With that he was gone. You stood in the single room cabin, your heart rate finally slowing down.

You looked around, the place was big enough, it felt cozy. There were some old chairs by the fire with a small handcrafted table in front of them.

The other side of the room had a big soft looking bed, then there was an area to the right with pots, pans and other things for cooking. Besides a small room off to the side with a basin of water and a cracked mirror, that was it.

It wasn't much, but it was nice. It felt normal. There were blankets everywhere. Cotton, knitted, animal hide, what have you.

It all made you feel a little better, but not by that much.

Joel came back in and gathered fixings for dinner. He had you both sit in front of the fire outside along with his other men. You all sat on logs gathered round. His men were boisterous and shameless as usual, but they only did so much as leer at you.

The food was pretty good, and you appreciated the hot meal.

When you shivered a little bit, Joel slipped off his fringe jacket and put it around your shoulders. You looked up at him and couldn't help but smile a little. How sweet, how...considerate.

He looked down at you, and smiled back. The wrinkles around his brown eyes became more pronounced, making his normally dead piercing gaze softer, kinder. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

After dinner was done, you both returned to his cabin. He cleaned up as you got comfortable, changing into a long, off the shoulder white cotton dress that held your breasts nicely.

You settled into his bed. It smelled like wood, tobacco, whiskey, him. The blankets and pillows were soft and you tucked your legs up, opening your diary. Beginning a new entry, you didn't even know where to start. Your entries were definitely going to get more interesting.

You wrote for a while before you heard a man enter the cabin. Looking up, you saw Joel and began to stand up but he put up a hand, stopping you.

You watched him walk over to the fire, his knees creaking a little as he bent down and threw a fresh log in.

He sighed and slumped back in one of the chairs, kicking off his boots, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shirt.

You observed him for a while, his beautiful hooked nose illuminated by the firelight, his hair looked soft, his tough expression relaxed a bit.

You finally lost interest and returned to your diary, desperately trying to explain to it how you came to be in this situation.

Joel took swigs from his flask and worked on his whittling as you wrote. He liked the peacefulness, he liked that there was a pretty girl in his bed. You had come with him so easily, been so obedient. Sure, you'd been upset initially, but he hadn’t expected you not to be.

You'd been good, so far. You followed his orders and you were thankful for all the things that he gave you.

Compliant little thing.

He suddenly got an idea.

You had already covered two pages in writing when he called your name.

You sat up quickly and set your diary on his bed, slid off and walked across the wooden floor until you were in front of him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, your heart pounding slightly.

“Take off your dress.” He said quietly.

The command caught you off guard and you froze for a moment.

“I-what?”

“Take off. Your dress.” He repeated flatly, “Wanna take a look at what’s mine.”

His words both made your stomach hurt and your pussy ache. It felt like your feet and hands were going numb.

You took him in, his hard stare, the yearning and darkness in his eyes. You realized you had been fooled earlier tonight by his chivalry.

You swallowed and nodded, you were used to this business. You took a deep breath and untied the top of your dress, letting the bodice fall loosely around your chest. You gathered the fabric and pulled it over your head. You weren't wearing any undergarments so as your white dress billowed to the ground, you were left completely naked for him.

You heard him make a noise of approval and he nodded, smiling.

"Knew you were a good girl."

He eyed you up and down. His gaze made goosebumps erupt on your skin, causing your nipples to harden as he examined you. He stayed in his chair, his legs spread. You could see his bulge straining against his jeans.

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your cunt...maybe Joel Miller would be gentle with you?

He finally stood up. Looming over you, he ran his large, rough hands over your arms, then your stomach and finally, up to cup and squeeze your breasts.

You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, Joel chuckled softly,

"I know baby," He rasped, "You've been waitin’ so long, been so patient."

You nodded quickly, your eyes wide as you looked up at him. Your complete submissiveness to him was due to his power, but you couldn't help but feel a little excited for this strong, terrifying man to take you.

"Go get on the bed for me."

"Yes sir." You said softly and he let out an almost inaudible groan. You walked over to the bed and laid on your back, immediately spreading your legs.

Joel laughed a little and shook his head as though in disbelief,

"Damn, I picked the right fuckin’ girl didn't I?"

He sat on the bed beside you as you lay, your pussy still on display for him, your arms on either side of your head.

Completely his, ready to be taken by him. It kind of shocked you that you had surrendered and accepted this role so quickly. But then again, you didn't have much of a choice, this was the easy way.

"Damn." He sighed as he let his eyes fall over you. He took his time touching you, slowly playing with you. You let your eyes flutter shut as you let him explore you, taking in his newest possession.

He touched you everywhere, except where you needed him most. You squirmed and whimpered, moving your hips to get his fingers anywhere near your wet cunt.

Joel quickly landed a harsh spank on your pussy and you cried out.

"Cut that shit out." He growled, "You're gonn' take what I give you and be a grateful little whore."

You nodded quickly.

"Say it."

"I'm-I'm gonna be a grateful little whore."

"Thas' right."

His thick fingers dragged through your dripping cunt and you let out a moan. He drew closer to you, inhaling the dizzying scent of your arousal and spreading your slickness up to your clit.

"Joel..." You whined and rolled your hips against his fingers.

"Good girl," He said huskily, "Jus like that."

He moved his fingers faster and you moaned and arched your back. No man had ever taken his time with you in this way.

You felt the pleasure wash over you and you let your moans echo around the cabin freely. You'd learned it wasn't a bad thing to be loud, your old pimp had always told you it was good advertising.

After taking in your reaction to that, Joel shifted his focus and curiously buried two thick fingers into your cunt. You moaned and gasped at the way he stretched you, it felt fucking amazing.

"Joel!" You cried out and rocked your hips in time with his hand. Following his movements and somehow doing exactly what he wanted.

He liked how responsive you were, how obedient.

He pulled his fingers out of you without warning and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

Joel got on his knees on the bed, towering over you. He pulled his shirt off and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock.

You audibly gasped when you took in the sight of it and he laughed a little.

"What? Not expectin’ me to be this big?"

"I-no-sir I didn't-I mean-" You stuttered.

"S'alright sweetheart." He murmured, "You wanna touch me?"

You stared at his thick manhood. You had no idea how fucking big it was, you reached your hand out and wrapped it around him, your fingers just meeting each other around his girth.

Oh fuck.

You whined and pumped his length, spitting on it and letting it spread over him.

His cock was beautiful, powerful and imposing, resting rock hard and heavy between his strong thighs. His balls hung heavy, his dark hair running wild up to his round stomach.

You sighed, contentedly.

Joel smirked, his large hand resting on the side of your head, cradling you as your hand worked him.

You looked up at him submissively, your eyelashes fluttering. Joel moaned at the way you pleaded for him without even saying anything. You were like a siren. He'd known you were the one the minute he saw you down in that saloon.

He suddenly pushed you back, roughly. Making you yelp out in surprise as your head hit the soft pillows. He looked at you hungrily and grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you landed on your stomach, bouncing up off the bed a little.

He yanked your hips up so you were on your knees, grunting and breathing heavily. You moaned and arched your back, spreading yourself for him.

You felt the head of his cock swipe through your folds and your heart raced with anticipation. He took a sharp inhale before slamming into your cunt with a snarl.

"FUCK!" You cried out, not expecting the sudden burn or stretch. Even with how wet you were, his massive cock split you open.

You gasped and whined as Joel kept himself buried in your pussy, groaning as he rocked his hips, getting harder and more forceful.

You let yourself become undone by him and he started sliding out and slamming into you more, getting faster and more enthusiastic.

He grunted and breathed heavily through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. He threw his head back, using his grip on your hips to move you and fuck your pussy. The way you moaned and screamed for him only spurred him further, abusing your cunt.

He was in control. He bought you, he owned you, you were his whore. Forever.

"Oh fuck!" He groaned, gasping as those thoughts brought him even closer, along with the squeeze of your cunt.

You couldn't even speak, your face was pressed into the pillow as you cried and drooled. You'd lost track of how many times you'd come, just letting yourself be used by him at this point. You couldn't deny that it felt amazing.

Joel leaned over and put a paw-like hand over the back of your head, crushing your face into the bed as he leaned over. Putting his weight on you, he used that to fuck you even harder.

Your cries were muffled and you almost couldn't breathe. Joel's thrusts became sloppier and you heard his breathing turn into desperate moaning. He finally came, thick ropes of cum shooting directly into you making you gasp and moan. The men at the brothel were never allowed to cum in you. If a girl got pregnant, she either got it taken care of or she was out.

But you were Joel's now. And Joel was the one who decided what happened to you.

He fucked his cum into you more, causing it to spurt out. Then he pulled back, you took a deep breath and relaxed onto the bed, his cock still keeping you plugged up.

"That's right baby." He murmured, "Good girl."

You let out a beautiful whine, your cunt tightening around his cock as he stroked your hair away from your face.

He sighed as he knelt over your limp form, his cock still keeping his seed in you.

You didn't move, When he finally eased out of you gently, you winced and cried out at the loss.

"I know, I know." He said softly, petting your hair.

He grabbed a cloth and wiped at your cunt, getting most of the mess cleaned up. When he decided that was good, he eased your hips down and turned you over.

You wriggled into a comfortable position, tucking your hair behind your ear and smiling up at him shyly.

He smiled at you again, the same one he'd given you at dinner. His normally cold eyes looked warm and safe.

You slipped your hands up around his neck, your eyes falling down to his lips under his scruffy beard.

He ran the rough pad of his thumb over your cheekbone,

"Such a good little whore." He said softly, then he leaned down and kissed you.

His lips weren't pressed against yours for that long but it still sparked electricity through you.

He pulled away and breathed out a laugh, "Alright, let's try an' get some sleep now."

"Yes sir." You said softly.

He put out the fire and the lantern and stripped off his pants before getting under the covers with you. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his softening cock pressing against your ass.

He buried his nose in your hair, each hand covering your tits, keeping them warm.

You nuzzled into his hold, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been held like this. You turned around and buried your face in his hairy chest.

You had…liked that. You really liked it. You knew how wrong this all was. You knew that to him you were just a whore, his property, but…maybe you could make peace with that? Maybe Joel Miller would be a good owner.

You hated that you were even thinking that.

His large hand rested on your back, holding you close to him as your exhausted mind finally succumbed to sleep.

THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU

This is my first Joel fic AND my first dead dove fic which I didn’t think I’d be able to write but I had sm fun writing this!! Thank you to @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark and all the girlies with their scary Joels who inspired me🖤

YEEHAW LETS RIDE🐎🐎🐎

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ettawritesnstudies · 2 years

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Etta's Guide to Writeblr (March 2023)

So you fled here from Twitter/TikTok... Where to start?

Welcome to Writeblr! Pull up a chair, open those documents, and pour yourself a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, or cocoa. The first thing you'll want to do is start following other writers. Check out this post for recommendations! Search through the notes to find hundreds more. Since I made that post, a bunch of people mentioned they're lurking and still trying to figure out tumblr, so I thought I'd make this post to help people get settled.

How to set up your blog

Make your blog name something not resembling a pornbot - it can be whatever you want, anything fun goes, just not [name###]. If you include "writer" or "author" somewhere in the url it makes it easier to spot writeblrs at a glance but it's not a requirement

Change your profile to something that's not the default, Make sure you have a blog title, and add a little description in your blog header if you feel like it!

Make a pinned post introducing yourself (pls don't use your real name or any IDing information for privacy's sake, this isn't facebook), a short summary of your WIPs, and links if you have an author's website/newsletter/ao3/etc. You can check my pinned post for an example

Make intro posts for each WIP! You can spruce these up with graphics (canva and unsplash are both great free resources to make edits/moodboards), excerpts, lists of tropes, character intros, etc. Link to the WIP intro in your pinned post so it's easy to find! You can update these as often as needed

If you want to make character intros, go wild. If you can't draw, piccrew is a great option. Just start talking about your WIP!

Come up with a tagging system to keep your blog organized. I recommend individual wip tags or at least one for your original writing in general so it's easy to search for your work on your blog

Keep track of Taglists for your WIPs. Whenever you post a new thing about your story, tag the people who asked to be notified to make sure they see it! Only tag people who ask to join the taglist, but it's a good way to keep track of interest. It's normal to have multiple taglists for each story+ one general writing taglist.

How to make writer friends

Reblog their work and add nice comments, either in the tags, comments, or the reblog itself People notice regulars in their notes and appreciate the attention. I promise it's not weird to compliment a total stranger

If that's too intimidating, community events are your friend!

Weekly Ask Games: These are weekly events that are loosely themed where writers send each other asks about their WIPs! The most common are Storyteller Saturday (about the writing process), Blorbsday (aka Blorbo Thursday about characters), and Worldbuilding Wednesday (about the setting of your story). If you answer these late, nobody really cares, but it's a fun way to receive prompts and learn more about other people's stories.

Ask Games/Memes: These are posts with lists of questions you can reblog from other people, sometimes themed or listed with emojis. It's common courtesy to send an ask from the list to the person you reblog it from, then people can send you questions as well, so you can talk about your stories! You can search for dozens of them

Tag games: There's a ton of different types of tag games, but basically someone @s you with a challenge/question, you reblog with your answer, and then @ a bunch of other people to continue the chain. Some common ones are Heads Up 7s Up (share the last 7 lines of your WIP), Last Line Tag (share the last line you wrote), and Find the Words (ctrl+f the given words in your doc and share the results, then give new words).

Formal events: These are community wide participation challenges organized by certain blogs! @writeblrsummerfest is every July?? August? I think? It's run by @abalonetea a few years strong, and there are daily prompts and ask games! @inklings-challenge is a month-long short story entry for Christian writeblrs. I think there was a valentines event in February. @moon-and-seraph is hosting a pitch week soon! Since these are more organized, it's very easy to find similar blogs and support!

Misc. Notes on using Tumblr

Follow the tags #writeblr and #writeblr community to find other writers, as well as other tags that interest you like #fantasy for example

If you want to bookmark a post to read later, you can like it and/or save it to your drafts

The queue/schedule function is very useful if you want to space out posts or have a backlog to keep your blog running when you get busy. This is good for the community because it gives older posts a chance to be rediscovered! You can change the posting frequency in the settings.

REBLOG YOUR OWN STUFF. People aren't always on at the same times and so it's the best way to account for people with different schedules and timezones. If you're worried about being annoying, you can tag those #self reblog or something similar and other people can filter the tag, but otherwise it's a welcomed and accepted practice.

If your excerpt is pretty long, put it under a cut. On desktop you can do this by selecting the squiggly button on the far right when you make a new paragraph, on mobile type :readmore: then hit enter.

It's polite to add descriptions to images and videos for visually or auditory impaired people. If you don't know how to write descriptions, here's a good resource

In your dashboard settings, it's best to shut off the options "Best Stuff First" and "Based on your Likes". These function as the website algorithm and suppresses the blogs you actually follow, which defeats the purpose of the site, letting the dash be in reverse chronological order. Also turn off Tumblr Live because it's malware as far as anyone's concerned.

Curate your experience, block the trolls, and be nice

Update for March 2024

How to shut off AI Scraping on your blog

Go to settings and find the Visibility tab

Scroll down to the tag that says "Prevent Third-Party Sharing"

Turn that knob over so that Automattic can't steal your work for their language training model databases >_<

The other settings will just hide your blog from search engines so they're useful for hiding from nosy parents or other Tumblr users but if you're trying to build an author platform you can leave them off.

Again, welcome to the community! I hope you have a ton of fun!

#writeblr #writer community #etta rambles #welcome to tumblr #guide to tumblr

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sailor-aviator · 9 months

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Baboons and Flesh Wounds

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

Tag List: @goldenseresinretriever @fanficfandomlove @bobgasm @pinkdaisies1106 @hookslove1592 @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @justherebecausesafarisucks @jupitercomet @atarmychick007 @katfanfic @topnerd03 @smileybouquet @roger-that-cap @crybaby-21 @vixenobrian @butterfly-skinnylegend @nouis-bum @eloquentdreamer @els-marvelvsp @bearw1thme @diorrfairy @seresinsbrat @what-did-you-just-say @na-ta-sh-aa @rosedurin @rhettsluvr @djs8891 @roosteraloha @yelrah27 @takens-world @fudge13 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @burrowsmuse @senawashere @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @susseysstuff

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster top gun #top gun rooster #slm #stranger like me #tarzan!bradley

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seasons-of-death · 17 days

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kook!reader camping with bf!pope heyward

warnings: fluffy smut, loss of virginity, awkwardness but in a sweet way, praise, MDNI i really wanted to write something sweet but also smutty and i got this idea a few days ago ,,, also as someone who was a girl scout for six years pope being a former boy scout is canon in my heart. anyway i'm definitely gonna write more kook!reader x pope bc i love their dynamic sm … currently planning a moodboard for them

when pope's great idea for your birthday was to take you camping, to say you were reluctant would be an understatement, especially since your initial plan was to lose your virginity on said day, and the thought of sleeping in the middle of some forests surrounded by mosquitos and god knows what kind of wild animals wasn't exactly your idea of a "romantic evening."

you couldn't help it, you had always been a planner, and when pope had brought up the idea of camping with you for your birthday, you had subtly tried to tell him it wasn't something you were too interested, but the boy seemed so sweetly clueless about it, you didn't want to burst his bubble of excitement, especially when he showed you the camping gear he'd dug up from his storage from his days as a boy scout.

so, you just decided to try and make it as romantic as possible. your parents had conveniently misplaced one of their expensive bottles of wine, which had somehow ended up in your trunk, and you had purchased a new lingerie set as well as condoms, wanting to make sure you were prepared.

you were pacing around your bedroom, your duffle bag having been packed with the things you'd need; you didn't know why you were nervous, it wasn't like you'd never done anything sexual, and more often than not, your heated makeout sessions in your bed ended up with his hand in your panties or his cock in your mouth.

but the thing was... he had no idea that you were a virgin. sure, you had boyfriends before him, but most of the time things stayed strictly hand-or-mouth zone. but honestly, the moment you two drove to the nearby cliffs and he told you about the different constellations, you were ready to jump him right there, but you didn't want to give him the wrong idea, so you simply adored him while the boy pointed out the stars to you. however, after a few weeks of dating, he drunkenly told you about how he'd only slept with one person, and was kind of worried that you were more experienced, which you found adorable.

but, when you finally heard your doorbell ring, you took a deep breath, and tried to calm yourself down before having to face your boyfriend and have the boy realize that you had just spent the entire morning overthinking a simple camping trip.

"are we going where i think we're going?" you asked pope, the boy driving your car, having nicked your sunglasses off the dashboard, now covering his eyes, and to be fair, they looked much better on him than they did on you.

"damn, have i already lost the ability to surprise you?" he chuckled, making you roll your eyes playfully, the boy taking your right hand into his and pressing a kiss onto it, "we are. but i have a surprise for you waiting there."

honestly, i should've known that the place he was taking me was the location of our first date even before he turned the car on; he wouldn't really admit it, but there was a part of him that could be incredibly cheesy, and you liked that about him. most of the guys you'd dated before him hadn't been nearly as thoughtful as pope was, and even though you'd only dated him for a few months, he'd been more considerate than some boyfriends you'd been with for close to a year.

it wasn't long until the two of you arrived near the cliffs where you'd had your first date, pope taking your hand into his as you traipsed through the woods, the boy much more comfortable in the terrain that you were, and whenever you were about to trip, he steadied you, trying not to laugh.

you gasped when you finally realized what pope's surprise was, when you noticed a tent perched close to the cliff, overlooking the water. the two of you walked closer to it, and that was when you realized that pope had put up fairy lights all around the tent, and there was a blanket that stretched all the way over to the cliff so you could sit there and look at the stars like you'd done on your first date.

"do you like it?" he asked, as he wrapped his warm arms around you, and you looked up to him with a smile, nodding eagerly, the sight in front of you causing your heart to clench in your chest. "i love it."

"how many times do i need to tell you to blow on it?" pope laughs, almost doubling over on the blanket as he just watched while you struggle with the s'more, letting the gooey confection fall onto a plastic plate before you took a large chug of wine from your plastic cup, the liquid now lukewarm.

you'd spent the day swimming, watching while pope surfed, playing cards, and simply talking, now he was blowing onto your s'more, while the two of you sat on the blanket on the cliff, and as you felt the wine starting to warm you up, the last thing you cared about was your damn s'more, but you also didn't know how to initiate, the boy always-

"i wanna have sex."

before you could think about your wording any more, it just... slipped out, pope's eyes widening as he let out a cough, nearly choking on his wine as he processed your words. "what?" he asked in between coughs, and you waited for him to start coughing before repeating yourself.

"i wanna have sex. with you, if that wasn't clear." you said, clearing your throat, "that came out... more straightforward than i intended." you said with a small smile, feeling your cheeks warm up as you looked down at the ground.

"are... are you sure?"

"yeah. i mean, i've wanted it for a really long time, but i suck at initiating any of that stuff, and i haven't ever done it before so it's probably gonna be awkward and if you don't want to, that's also fine and i can definitely wait even longer but-"

before you could babble any longer, pope pressed his lips on yours, and somehow his kiss could make you forget everything you were thinking about, your focus only on him as he pulled you closer by your waist, hunger evident in every move he made as if he hadn't just eaten three s'mores, his lips tasting of the red wine you'd been sharing.

he pulled away from the kiss, the palm of his hand moving to cup your cheek, "i'd love to, but... are you sure? like... absolutely sure? you really haven't... done it before?"

"i'm more than sure." you say, your voice weak from the effect his kiss had on you, "i've known pretty much from the first time you kissed me right here. you're... just the sweetest guy i know. you're so smart, and... i've never liked anyone as much as i like you."

"you're adorable." he says as he tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, "i, uhh... i just don't have any..." pope clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, and although you didn't know it, he was internally cursing himself for not accepting the condom jj had offered him earlier. "protection, y'know."

"i do."

pope almost let out a chuckle at how fast you had rebutted his words, the boy watching as you pulled out a condom from your purse, pressing his tongue against his cheek. "you came prepared, huh?" he couldn't help but grin, his amusement only heightening when he saw the pout on your face, the boy pressing a small kiss on your lips, "i think that's cute."

it wasn't long until the two of you were tangled on the blanket under the stars, pope's shirt thrown into the tent, your dress pushed up until it was only covering your breasts, pope kneading the fat of your ass, his lips greedily consuming yours.

he pulled away from the kiss, leaving the both of you panting and breathless, his calloused hands pulling your dress off in its entirety, throwing it into the tent, his lips attaching themselves to your neck while you unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, one of his fingers slipping into your panties, the boy letting out a small chuckle into the crook of your neck when he felt how wet you were.

when the rest of your clothes were discarded, you watched as he rolled the condom onto his hard cock with a sigh, biting down on your lip as a mixture of eagerness and nervousness rolled around in your abdomen.

"tell me if it hurts too much, or if you want to stop, alright?" he looked at you with raised brows, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips as his chest was pressed against yours, pope brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "i will." you smiled, positioning your hands on his shoulders.

you weren't quite prepared for the loud gasp that he'd pull you from you when only the tip of his cock was in you; sure, he'd prepared you and tried to stretch you out with his fingers beforehand, but even his thick digits hadn't prepared you enough.

"are you alright?" he paused his movements, peppering soft kisses on your neck, "just tell me if you want me to stop."

"i'm okay..." you said breathlessly, "go ahead."

it took you a while to get used to feeling him stretch you out, it definitely didn't help that pope was probably the biggest guy you had dated, but slowly it started hurting less and less, the boy whispering sweet words into your ear as he moved inside of you slowly, your back arching against the blanket, your nails digging into his back every time he bottomed out inside of you, causing him to let out low groans every time he hit that spot inside of you.

"you're doing so well..." he spoke softly, his thumb rolling over your clit, slowly starting to pick up his pace, "taking me so well... don't know how i went so long without you, you feel so fucking good..."

his lips attached themselves to one of your hardened nipples, your mind turning hazy as you tried to focus on all the sensations pope was making you feel, the coil in your stomach growing with every roll of his hips, one of your hands in his hair as you let out a moan, arching into his mouth.

"pope, i'm getting close..." your words were between a mumble and moan, but it seemed that pope still understood what you had said, picking up his pace just slightly so it'd be easier for you to achieve your orgasm.

it wasn't long until you were moaning out his name, overcome with your orgasm as he continued moving inside of you, slowing down his movements as he let you ride out your orgasm.

when pope had come undone himself, he threw the used condom into the trash bag he had brought, pulling you close to his chest as he pressed a kiss on top of your head, covering your naked bodies with another blanket.

"that's cepheus." he said against your hair, pointing up at one of the constellations in the sky while you simply nuzzled closer to his chest, letting out a soft "mmhm..." as you closed your eyes, somehow feeling more comfortable on a cliff in the middle of the forest than you even did in your own bed. "happy birthday."

BONUS: before he came to see you, when pope told his friends about what his plan for your birthday was, jj definitely clapped him on the back and said, "you're finally gonna get laid!" and tried to get him to take a condom with him, but pope just looked at him murderously.

#pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #outer banks #pope obx #pope outer banks #pope x reader #outer banks fanfiction #pope heyward x y/n #pope heyward x you #pope heyward fluff

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clockwork-ashes · 2 months

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All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXI

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Elain held onto Lucien’s arm tightly, the small smile he flashed her just before he winnowed brought her a sense of calm. Gold light, warm like the rays of a summer sun, enveloped them both.

The world scattered around Elain, colours and shapes falling apart only to come together once again as they reached their destination. Her head was spinning, still not entirely used to winnowing. She wondered if that unusual feeling would ever pass, if it would get better as the years trickled by.

Lucien’s grip was firm, his steadiness not surprising to Elain, but she envied how certain he was over the control of his own magic. The dreams she was having of Lucien were troubling, her imagination running wild, she could barely look at him without wanting to reach out and touch him. She was, at the very least, glad that those dreams provided her a welcome reprieve from the others that plagued her.

Endless night skies and bottomless lakes.

Dying leaves and hands made of bone.

Something was watching.

Hiding.

Waiting.

Elain could have shivered just thinking about the nightmares, and as grateful as she was over the fact that no visions tormented her while she was awake, she suspected the fragile hold she had on her abilities would surely snap eventually. She released a small sigh, no longer in denial about what was happening.

Elain was in need of a distraction, so when Lucien had come to her after having spent the morning with his father and suggested they do something, anything, she was more than happy to join him. His shoulders had dropped with relief, his jaw had unclenched at her quick reply. They were more comfortable around each other, but there was still a bit of uncertainty underlying every one of their interactions.

That uncertainty was being chipped away the more time they spent together, resentment falling into the rhythms of an honest friendship. Elain had come to the decision that she and Lucien had gone beyond just simple allies, and as she had taken off her mask, he had been more than willing to do the same.

Elain liked Lucien.

Getting to the point where she could even admit such a thing seemed like a step in the right direction, the dull pull of the mating bond muted now that they had grown closer. It no longer frustrated her, it simply existed, and slowly learning about Lucien was rewarding as she came to find out how well she knew him despite how little they had spoken in the last few years.

Elain had guessed that he was desperate to get away from the Forest House, and that as long as there was some distance between himself and the rest of his family, Lucien would allow himself a moment to unwind.

She had felt him, just as surely as she could feel the ground beneath her feet. Lucien had been on the brink of panic, his anxiety echoing in her skull, and Elain had wanted to reassure him. She willed as much, and it was done. The bond, no matter that it had not yet been accepted, was as gentle as any lover’s caress as Elain reached out towards Lucien with nothing but her thoughts.

As Elain began to take in their new surroundings, the bridge connecting their two souls was quiet, like the break of dawn, peaceful.

The gentle breeze was cool against her cheeks, the afternoon sun high in the sky. Autumn was striking in its beauty, ancient and lovely, and the Forest House had been interesting, but it did not compare to the court’s capital city.

Elain and Lucien were standing on one of the many winding stone paths, young trees planted along the edges to reveal the countless storefronts. Faeries were going about their business, some walking around leisurely while others winnowed in a burst of sparks.

Elain felt her lips part in awe, amazed that she had lived in Prythian for years and had yet to visit a city outside of the Night Court.

“You alright?” Lucien asked, checking on her after winnowing a few times to reach their destination.

Elain hummed in response, nodding absently.

Hollowed tree trunks had windows and doors, and Elain realised people actually lived in them. A faerie with wings opened her shutters to water the hanging pots along the sill. Small children ran past them, laughing, careless.

“Lucien,” she started, a breathless edge to her voice, “Lucien, this city is beautiful.” She tilted her head up towards him, his warm smile a welcome sight.

“I haven’t come in decades,” he admitted, russet eye bright, the golden one whirring softly.

Had Lucien not revealed the information to her, Elain would have assumed he came often. He walked along the streets with the confidence of someone who was at ease, like he was home.

Elain adjusted her hold on him, letting her palm trail along his arm before she reached for his hand. As she laced their fingers together, she felt surprise shoot down the bond before it was replaced with a feeling of content. Elain bit her lip at her own boldness, she knew a blush had bloomed along her cheeks. She was glad Lucien said nothing, or else she might have pulled away from him in embarrassment.

Lucien led Elain towards the city square, where booths had been set up, various items being sold at each one. Small, triangular, burnt-orange flags were attached to long strings and hung between the buildings, reminding Elain of a festival she and her sisters had gone to as small girls. Their father had bought them each a gift; books for Nesta, a set of paint brushes for Feyre, and a potted plant for Elain. She could still remember the little sunflower, how she had placed it by the window in her bedroom. It had been Elain’s first, and she smiled at the memory as Lucien bought them both an apple tart.

Everyone clearly knew who Lucien was, but no one approached or treated them any differently. Unlike when Rhysand and Feyre walked the streets of Velaris, those in Autumn seemed to make a great effort to mind their business and avoid looking in the direction of the High Lord’s son. Elain wondered if it was because the Vanserra family scared them, but having spent some time in the court, she assumed it was simply them trying to be polite.

As they walked, Lucien explained what some of the vendors were selling and provided Elain with some much needed insight on Autumn’s unique culture. She took in all of the information happily, enjoying the way her mate seemed to glow as he spoke about something from his childhood.

“It’s strange being away from the Forest House,” Elain offered as Lucien walked from the city square down a much quieter street. She held a bag of maple syrup candies in her hand, savouring the sweet and salty taste as she popped another one in her mouth.

Lucien’s eyes tracked the movement and she tried to ensure she did not blush at his attention. He shrugged, doing the same, before he asked, “Good strange?”

Elain nodded, casting a glance around them as she replied. “Amazing.”

Lucien grinned down at her, his expression full of pride. “I haven’t come since before Amarantha,” he held Elain’s hand tightly as he helped her down a few steps, she clutched her skirts, slippers flashing. “Glad to see that nothing’s really changed.”

The part of the city they were now in seemed older to Elain, smaller houses made of stone separated shops and restaurants, the trees were taller, looking as though they were holding up the sky. Elain could not be sure how much time had passed, but the sun was slowly beginning to set. The horizon was a mix of orange, yellow, and red, perfectly matching the leaves that continued to fall.

Lucien’s golden eye clicked as a grin broke across his handsome features and he steered Elain towards a building. He had clearly been looking for it, Elain realised, his voice holding a restrained eagerness as he spoke. “Want to see some Autumn Court magic?”

Elain breathed a short laugh. “You don’t even have to ask,” she replied, his childlike attitude at the prospect of showing her a little piece of his life was infectious.

Lucien pushed a carved wooden door open, a bell announcing their presence, and held it for Elain so she could pass. She gripped her skirts as she entered, surprised at the sudden burst of heat in the small space. It was like walking into an oven, a stark contrast to the cool air outside. Her mate followed a moment later, but Elain was too distracted to pay him any mind, especially as a large faerie on the room’s opposite end put unprotected hands into a roaring fire.

Elain gasped, but her concern was short lived as the man called out without looking in their direction. “We’re closed.”

Lucien seemed completely undeterred as he glanced around. “Even for an old friend, Castor?” He placed a hand low on Elain’s back and she leaned into his casual touch.

The blacksmith turned with no urgency, leaving the glowing piece of metal in his hands onto a stone counter. He raised a dark brow, wiping his fingers on an already stained apron. “My eyes must be deceiving me,” he said, and Elain noticed they were a striking shade of red, unlike any eyes she had ever seen.

Castor walked around the counter, hand outstretched and Lucien pulled the other man close for an embrace. Elain was fully aware he had friends in the court he had been raised in, but she could not help but be a bit surprised that his former acquaintances were not strictly Forest House nobles and high fae.

Castor’s accent was less sharp than the one she had begun to associate with Autumn, but it was just as lovely. “Mother, it’s been a century about, hasn’t it?”

“Not that long,” Lucien replied with a laugh, gesturing for Elain to come over. “Thought I’d bring my mate to the city, show her around.”

Despite the other man’s massive size, he shook Elain’s hand gently, tilting his chin in a small bow. “And you bring the poor girl here?” He was shaking his head, clicking his tongue as he addressed her. “The eastern territories are much nicer.”

“Guess I’ll force him to take me there next,” Elain smiled and she saw a dark blush stain his light brown cheeks as she spoke. “I’m Elain,” she introduced, not bothering with last names or titles.

“What can I do for you?” He asked, back to business, gesturing around his forge. Elain was instantly drawn to the battle axes leaning against the wall, although they were all probably much too heavy for her to lift.

Lucien scrunched his nose, “I was hoping to show Elain some of our more interesting Autumn magic, maybe buy myself a dagger.”

Castor huffed a laugh. “More knives? I suppose you haven’t changed all that much.” He faced Elain, amusement lining his handsome features. “Eris used to drag your poor mate here to watch me make weapons, he’d sit right on the counter, legs crossed, the most well behaved youngling I’d ever seen.” He shook his head at the memory, and Elain could imagine it clearly. She knocked her shoulder playfully against Lucien’s arm.

“Eris swears I was a little monster,” Lucien laughed, thinking about some of the better times in his past, Elain was sure.

“Your brother’s a liar,” Castor waved a hand dismissively, “I should know.” He flashed Elain a shy smile, another blush on his cheeks as he made his way behind the counter once more. “Take a look around,” he offered, “let me finish the blade I was working on and I’ll be right with you.” He was doing it for her benefit, surely, and Elain was glad he was taking the time to do so. She had not expected kindness in the Autumn Court, but was increasingly surprised by how much she liked spending time in a place she had been convinced she would despise.

Elain watched with fascination as Castor forged the long piece of metal into a sword. Time passed, but she could not be sure how much. He explained in great detail what he was doing, and she enjoyed the small lesson. Lucien told her about the history of blacksmiths in Autumn, declaring with great confidence that they had the best metalworkers in all of Prythian. Elain believed him, unsure how anyone could be more talented than those who possessed flame in their blood.

Once Castor had finished with the sword, Lucien took Elain to a shelf with daggers, asking for her opinion on which one was nicest. She chose one with diamonds along the silver hilt, surprised at how easily her mate encouraged her to swipe at the air with it, doing the same afterwards when he told her to lift one of the battle axes she had been eying.

The genuine encouragement shocked her momentarily. Elain could not imagine her family allowing her to even touch one in Night. She did not like violence, but she had always been charmed by things that were lovely.

“You forged all of these?” Elain asked Castor, forgetting herself entirely as she dropped to her knees in front of a particularly beautiful axe. She imagined swinging it at Beron, at how absurd it would have been to any onlookers. She could admit that it would have solved the problem with her and Lucien’s ever more quickly approaching wedding. She traced the ancient writing on the silver, making sure to keep her fingers away from the sharp edge. Castor hummed his response, and Elain smiled back at him. “They’re very pretty.”

“If you like the axe so much, I can buy it for you,” Lucien offered, she could hear the joke in his tone, feel the amusement that trickled down the bond. Elain would not have been able to lift the axe in front of her even if all their lives depended on it.

“Maybe next time,” Elain said with a smile, gripping Lucien’s outstretched hand to stand up. She straightened her skirts as Lucien paid for his dagger, and Elain figured it was probably getting late.

Castor wished them well, ordering them to return again and to tell Eris to show his face in the city more often. As they walked out of the blacksmith’s shop, Elain waved, hoping they would be back soon. It was almost surprising that she would want such a thing, especially since when she imagined returning, Lucien was at her side. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, deciding it would be best to examine it at a different time.

“You up for one last stop?” Lucien asked, offering her his arm like a perfect gentleman.

Elain hooked her elbow through his, smiling as she nodded her head.

Once again, he led her through quieter streets, and now that the sun was just about ready to hide behind the horizon, torches slowly sparked to life as faeries rushed home for the evening.

Lucien turned a corner and Elain would have stopped in her tracks to marvel at the sight in front of them had he not continued his steady steps forward.

There were no more shops and houses, no more people, only endless forest. Different types of trees created a thick maze, one Elain would not have dared approach otherwise. It was ancient, thrumming with a magic she recognised as belonging to Lucien, to his family.

The path they were walking on was lined with jewelweed and it did not end until it reached a fountain carved from pale stone, the last faerie-made object before Autumn overtook her line of sight.

It was romantic, so thoughtful. No one had ever done anything so kind for her, certainly not anyone she had been courting. She had to remind herself that Lucien was doing no such thing, that they were simply good friends spending a day together.

Water fell from each layer of stone, but it looked like burnished gold, like something out of a story. She could not help the breathless “oh” that fell from her lips, moving away from her mate and towards the fountain.

“From the coins,” Lucien explained. “One wish in exchange for a mark made of gold.” With a flash of his sunbright magic, two coins appeared in his hand and he offered them to her with a little bow at the waist.

Elain was so unbelievably grateful for the effort he had gone to in order to show her the place he had been raised in, her heart was pounding as her eyes fell to the male she had never wanted as her mate.

My mate.

Elain did not reach for the coins, she simply got onto the tips of her toes. Placing her hand on Lucien’s shoulder to keep her balance, she heard as the breath caught in his throat, she felt as shock filtered down the bond.

Elain pushed aside her nerves, let her eyes flutter shut, as she gently pressed her lips to the corner of Lucien’s mouth. She was not yet bold enough to take the things she wanted, her upbringing warring with instinct.

“Lucien,” she said softly as his one hand came to rest on her waist. She kissed him again, in the same spot, feeling the scar that cut through his full bottom lip. She urged him to take control, pressed herself entirely against him. He was familiar and she was struck with the feeling that she had known him in a different life, that the fates existed and she would have found a way to meet Lucien under any circumstances.

Lucien’s hand fell to her hip and he brushed his mouth against hers. Elain wrapped an arm around his neck, the taste enough to make her release a whimper. She could hardly remember the last time anyone had made her feel good about herself, confident.

Elain returned the kiss, starved for her mate, desperate to be closer to him. She traced the seam of his lips with the smallest flick of her tongue, pulling away as pure desire roared through her veins. Unable to face Lucien just yet, she put her face against his chest, and he hugged her in return.

“Today was really nice,” she murmured, an understatement. She would remember the day they had spent together for the rest of her immortal life, would look back on it fondly, with no regrets. Elain felt as he hummed in response, the sound ringing in her ears. “Thank you,” she added.

“You still want to make your wish?” Lucien asked, his voice strained. Elain smiled at the effect she seemed to have on him, glad that it was at least mutual.

She moved away, letting her fingers trail along his shoulder before she reached for the gold coins he held out for her. His heart was beating rapidly, the rhythm matching her own.

Elain took the one coin, still not meeting his eyes. She tucked a stray curl behind her pointed ear, biting her lip. “What should I wish for?”

“For whatever you like,” he replied with an elegant shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone after.” He tossed the golden mark, and Elain’s ears strained to hear the sound of it hitting the water. She was curious as to what he might have wished for, but she knew the superstition and feared he would simply tell her if she asked him to share.

Elain took a deep breath, considering her wish carefully. She hoped Lucien and her could return to the city, that they could spend more time together exploring the Autumn Court.

Elain traced the rim of the coin with her finger, confident in her wish. She could feel Lucien’s eyes on her as she threw it towards the fountain.

Elain watched as the coin seemed to flash in the light of the setting sun, falling into the gentle stream of water, golden like the bridge that connected her soul to Lucien’s.

#DATE NIGHT FOR ELUCIEN #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #autumn court #ashes writes sometimes #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #all you have is your fire #thank you a million times for reading <3

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sleepy-vix · 8 months

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My name is Vix. 🌪️ 💤❄️

I like coffee, literature, and the colour blue in all its miserable beauty.

typology: intp 5w4 541 sp/sx mel-phleg Rloe|I|

"i am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort." - Maurice, Edward Forster.

+ i don't participate in tag games anymore

if you sent me an anon ask then check #asks under my profile- if its not in there then i haven't gotten around to it yet :,)

tiktok account: @/ghostly_moonchild

itch.io page: ☆

neoo and pickled sad, where are you guys?

#sleepy vix = my text posts (i promise there are thoughts in there somewhere that are worth reading..)

#vix's visions = moodboards (and my poems??-> tho mostly i post poems in my #vix's journal)

#vix's art = my art (i barely post)

#vix's library = my bookish posts

#vix's journal = about my day, week, stuff that's happened in my life, etc.

#do u ever kin a lyric? and #do you ever kin a lyric? = music related posts (mostly a song lyric out of context)

#asks = asks that i get. no fancy tag

#moots ✮ = my moots :) (ilya)

Also, i will tag triggering things using #tw (the trigger) ✦

My...

Current read: the little prince

Prev Read: howl's moving castle

Current watch: blue period (i loveee it)

Prev watch: big fish- tim burton

Currently playing: just downloaded val but too scared to play

That's all.

current mood: um!

#sleepy vix

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thevillainswhore · 1 year

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Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Pairing: Stalker!IT/tech!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

(snippets/mentions of Carter Bazien x F!Reader and Ending, Beginnings!Frank x F!Reader)

Summary: Bucky, the IT and technology expert of your office, has been secretly obsessed since the moment he set his sights on sensitive, naive, little you. But, your only fault is your repetitive ability to get your heartbroken by fuck boys. So, naturally, he has to do whatever it takes to make you see he’s perfect for you… right?

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of smut (p in v, male masturbation) violence, grievous bodily harm, dark elements, possessive behaviour, hacking, reader is very naive, Bucky is a hell of a warning here (will add more with the upcoming chapters) PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!

A/N: We are finally here!! 😭 incase anyone doesn’t remember, I teased this fic a longgg time ago and it makes me so happy to announce its now live 🥹 as mentioned before this is a multi part story - I’m aiming for 3 parts but it could be more with me who knows 🤣 I also changed the my moodboard bc my last one did not include inclusivity and that is the goal here 💗

So now onto my appreciations ❤️ first of all I need to thank @mickeyhenrys for helping with the fic title - she’s a genius and I’m so thankful! Next, I need to thank @sgt-seabass for the help with the IT/cyber security aspect of things - she was absolutely amazing with providing all the information I needed and I’m super grateful for it. And last and certainly not least… my beautiful @rookthorne. my god I can’t even begin to thank you for all the help you’ve given me on this. To beta’ing this fic, helping me a lot with my moodboard even when I was a pain the ass 🤣 and just supporting me in general with my crazy ideas - this fic sprouted from our brainstorming and looking back from then to where this has flourished now is amazing 💗 thank you for being the beautiful person you are and inspiring me to grow as a writer. I love you so much 🥹

Now onto the fic, please enjoy the start of this crazy, wild ride and good luck - you’re gonna need it… 👀

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

Bucky glances over at you through the window that seperates the two of you, gushing about your new date already. It took you a week, maybe two, to get over the last guy. And here you were, yet again, in the same conversation with the same co-worker, debating about which dress you were gonna wear tonight.

Did it matter anyway?

The same shit happens every time. You go out with a new prize idiot, get laid, wait for them to text you back (spoiler: they never do), and you sit there, crying and wondering where you went wrong.

It was frustrating.

You only ever go out with the conventional ‘fuck boy’. The same three-piece suits and quiffed hair that looks like it’s been cemented to their skull with product and arrogance, both in equal measure.

When were you going to get it? You choose the wrong type of guy, every single time. And yet, you wonder why they never stick around long enough to make things official, or to settle down.

You were gullible; so naive.

The perfect girl that Bucky has kept his sights set on from that very first day that you begun working in the same office.

That’s when you walked into my life, Angel.

It wasn’t all that new for it to rain in New York. Heels clicked and splashed through the deep puddles of the pavement, and leather briefcases bumped against each other in the chaos of the crowds as Bucky made his way to work.

He found he didn’t so much mind the repetitive routine – his life had never been exciting. It gave him peace of mind to hear all the usual sounds and to witness the usual frenzied rush from his run down apartment all the way to his office.

He liked his job, truly. It’s what he’s always excelled best in and it’s what has kept him in his comfort zone. There was never no real need to talk to people as all communication or pleas for help were addressed in an email. Those who didn’t email always dragged themselves to his office and slammed their technology down on his desk, grunt or curse at him, before primly walking back out again.

That would anger most people – the blatant disregard for his existence and the treatment similar to that of a scolded dog, but Bucky’s been there for ten years now, and over those many, many days, he had gotten used to it.

It was a bonus, however, that nobody questioned him once on how he managed to fix every problem with their device with so little information as a curse and a demand to get it working.

Pushing the door open, Bucky expects to be walking into a normal day at the office. Paying no notice to the hustle and bustle of his colleagues at work.

That is until he’s stopped in his tracks.

The surprise of seeing the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on; a woman that was sunshine and everything he dreamed of personified standing in the lobby. He watched you speak to anyone that paused to say hello.

The errant thought of such an innocent bunny smiling for all that gave her attention made his cock twitch in his pants. He wanted to give you that attention that you craved.

Never had he been so entranced by and enamoured in anyone. He thinks he could stay like this forever, almost blown over by his new found obsession that made his hands shake and the whole volume of blood in his body to rush to his rapidly swelling cock.

That obsession called and rooted for him to take the few steps and cover the distance to reach you, when he was abruptly shunted forward by another body slamming into his back.

He spun around, ready to curse the person for being so oblivious, when he saw Brock. “Hey man, why the fuck were you just stand- Oh, I take it you’ve seen the new hire, hot isn’t she?”

The predatory smile on Brock’s mouth physically made him recoil. Looking Brock up and down, clear disgust in the sneer and glare of his expression, Bucky turned and stalked away towards the stairs in a bid to head to his office.

His closest safety net, the office where he spent his days, came into view and he slammed open the door, only to fall back onto it, his breath coming in sharp pants. Wildly, he glances around him and then out of the blinds that shroud his office from onlookers. Nobody was paying attention to his moment of crisis and doubt, except, he finds you glancing over your cubicle wall.

You send a small wave, one of which Bucky can’t believe is directed at him, and you smile broadly – a kind gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone smiled at him like that.

Bucky hastily looks away and strides over to his desk, adjusting the sudden tent of his slacks before he turns to sit in his desk chair to start his day.

Who the fuck is she?

The day starts slow, each task as mundane as the last, when you finally get a chance to talk to Sasha, your favourite co-worker. “I really think he’s going to be the one this time.” You can’t stop grinning, wiggling in your seat from excitement to be going out with Frank this weekend – the party that you met him at still fresh in your mind.

“Girl, you said that last time! With... What was his name again?” Sasha groans, her chair swivelling so she could face you fully. You stare at her with a furrow in your brow while she stumbles to remember the name. “Chad? No, I don’t think that was it… Chris?”

“His name was Carter.” There's heartbreak evident in the way your voice turns to a solemn whisper when speaking of him, and your eyes start to water as you begin to think about how your previous date left you high and dry after your night together – only to ghost you the next morning. Your lips start to tremble at the memory. “And I thought we said we weren’t going to speak about him anymore.”

Sasha notices your dejected expression. “Shit honey, l’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.” You nod once, wiping your cheek with your palm. “Car-” She hesitates, and then frowns. “He-who-shall-not-be-named was a rich asshole, he doesn’t deserve you and he can choke on a dick.”

The crass statement shocks you. “Sasha!” you admonish, glancing around the office for anyone milling about that may have overheard. Although you were never one to bad mouth, you couldn’t help the small giggles spilling out at her vulgar words.

Sasha’s abrupt and scandalous nature has always been the exact opposite to your docile character, but she was the first true friend you had made in the office – always looking out for you, taking care of you, and with your doe-eyed persona, the men can’t help but desire to have a piece of you.

It is a blessing that she always knew how to pick you back up when you were down, no matter how many times you would come to her in tears over the same problem.

“Anyway, I promise this one is different,” you promise. The sadness that gripped you a second before fades with the humorous nature of your friend. Sasha shoots you a look. “I didn’t even match with him on Tinder! We met at that party–the one I told you about, Daphne’s?”

“I remember,” Sasha murmurs, nodding.

The memory flashes across your mind, and you shake your head slightly. “He looked so silly with the little tiara on his head. He came up to me and we talked a little–said I looked really pretty and that we should meet up sometime,” you explain, almost imploringly – you desperately want her to understand that it was a good thing. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it–for me to get myself out there?”

Pride makes your voice strong, unwavering in it’s conviction. Stepping out of your your social circle is a huge step, and by the softening in Sasha’s gaze, she thinks so, too.

The night you met Frank swirls in your mind, clouding it as you stare dreamily at the wall beside Sasha’s head.

The party was in full swing – loud cheers and clinking bottles and glasses filled the night air, while the pounding bass music rattled your chest. Your friend, Daphne, had left to go smoke in the corner, abandoning you to your own devices by the pool.

Fairy lights had been strung up from pole to pole above you and you were admiring them, when Frank caught you by surprise.

“Hey doll,” he greeted, and you glanced at the six foot Prince Charming in a wool coat and tiny tiara. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the corner?”

Frank had thrown you a dashing smile and you found you couldn’t maintain eye contact with his intense gaze – you swore you fell in love on the spot.

To say you were flustered would be an understatement. “M-Me?”

Frank almost looked amused. “Well, just between me and you dollface… I don’t see anyone else nearly as pretty as you here.”

As the night went on, Frank continued to sweep you off your feet. You genuinely had no clue how desperate you made him over your sweet little dress riding up your thighs when you fiddled with the the hem. Or when you started to feel shy and you crossed your arms to try and hide yourself – only to squeeze your tits together. It gave him the perfect image of how they would look bouncing up and down on his cock.

The way he stared at you so sweetly, acting as the perfect gentleman made the butterflies in your stomach swoop and flutter up a storm. You had planned a date with him at the end of the night and you were beyond excited.

Snapping out of your daydream, you focus back into the present, aware enough of your surroundings to see Sasha clicking her fingers sharply in front of your face making you blink. “Hello? There she is!” She sits back and rolls her eyes. “Jesus girl, I was calling your name for ages. Where did that cute head of yours wander off to this time?”

“Sorry! I just got caught up in Frank again,” you sigh, dreamily.

Sasha scoffs. “C’mon, he can’t be that cute. Show me a photo of him.”

You clap your hands and squeal, rushing to search through your bag for your phone to show her just how lucky you are to have someone as wonderful as Frank interested in you. Scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night, you finally find the one you couldn’t stop admiring; him with that silly tiara sitting atop his soft, fluffy hair that you could imagine running your hands through all day, wrapped in a snug jacket with a cigarette between his fingers and blowing out smoke the side of his perfect lips.

His eyes fixed intently on one thing. You.

The image sends a shiver down your spine, and before you get too carried away, you turn your screen to face Sasha.

After a whole minute of considertory silence, she finally speaks up, her voice aweful. “Holy fucking shit, babe. I wanna lick his face.”

Your jaw drops. “Sasha, oh my god, you can’t just say that!” Laughter threatens to bubble over and your cheeks heat in response.

“Watch me,” Sasha teases, and you both dissolve into laughing fits.

Bucky is seething. He doesn’t think his teeth could be grating together any harder; grinding to dust until his jaw clicks. While your laugh is melodic to his ears, and his heart leaps and bounds at the sound of your voice, even muted from his vantage point of his office, he saw how upset you looked when your co-worker mentioned him.

Carter.

Even thinking his name gets his blood boiling. But, he wills himself to calm down. To just breathe. There was no point in getting worked up over that spoiled prick anymore, he’s dealt with after what he did to you – the very lengths Bucky had to go to get that video Carter took on his phone deleted.

You, the not so innocent whore on your knees for someone who wasn’t him, begging for Carter’s dick down your throat until you were suffocating; saliva drooling from your chin and dripping down onto your heaving tits.

Bucky can feel his cock twitching in his trousers at the thought of you being so submissive. Pity floods him – you didn’t even realise how Carter had not only ignored your texts that morning, but he had also planned to send that precious gift you had so willingly given to him, to all of his friends and ultimately ruin your life. Leaving it in shambles for you to pick up the debris of your professional career and sociality with so little care.

Bucky wasn’t the most pleased with you after seeing that video in the first place. It was such a foolish decision to trust and allow that sleazebag to film you.

He took it upon himself to remove every trace of the video. After all, he was a good person, what a man should be.

Such a good man that he paid a visit to Carter, leaving him with a few of his own gifts. A black eye, fractured skull, and a break in his right femur that may, or may not have, resulted in him taking residence in the local intensive care unit fighting for his life.

“All I want is for you to be happy. And who better to make you happy than me?” Bucky wonders quietly at his desk, the door to his office wide open so he can hear you chatting to your friend. “I would treat you so good–dote on you every hour of every day, never let you out of my sight, either.”

The next train of thought is one he will not voice aloud, but the vision of him fucking you hard and rough, just as you deserve, until you cried for more – for all of what he could give.

“You’re better off with me,” Bucky grumbles. His lips turn down into a grimace and he glares at the cubicle wall that separated you from him. “You just don’t know it yet, bunny.”

Nevertheless, here you are, flaunting your latest boy toy off to your friend.

The pencil he’s been tapping absentmindedly on his desk stops suddenly and small pieces of wood splinters by the second until it snaps in half, almost capturing your attention – head whipping side to side in search of the noise until you give up and go back to your conversation.

Pain laces through his hand when the wood scratches his palm, reddening lines etching themselves in retaliation for his daydreaming.

He’s got to be more careful with his frustrations.

You have hardly ever looked in his direction, let alone spoken a single word to him. Why would you? Not many people did, if he is honest with himself. His shoulder-length dark hair that is always covered by the same black cap in combination with his piercing and brooding stare didn’t give off the best impression, or invite conversation.

Bucky was not a popular man, even thinking back to his early school years. He was always considered the loner, the nerd, the creep. No sisters or brothers to grow up with; distant parents who paid no mind to him or bothered to foster and nuture his affinities.

The lonliness of his childhood paved the way to the depths of his desperation. Intelligence was something he had an abundance of, and weaponising the skills of his cyber skills was an underutilised talent of every one of his past employs.

It never assuades or lessens the burden of need for affection. A craving that naws like a festering wound in his barren heart, for something that could make up for the miserable nights of self reflection and doubt; wondering why he was never enough for his parents, or popular at school where the girls would fawn over him.

Something for his own; to be just his and unable to be taken from him, not by anybody.

I’m right here, Angel. You just don’t ever see me.

Bucky has done nothing short of pine after you from afar; stealing glances and furtive wanders to get close in any way he can.

He knows you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to him – you don’t run in the same circles and you are definitely not socially compatible. That doesn’t stop him from imagining how soft your skin must be, or how flawlessly your body would melt against his as he railed you into his bed. Your heavenly little cries of his name, breathless chants pleading him to “Keep going!” and “Don’t stop!” never leave his mind. They fuel his needy desires at night until he can get the real thing, whimpering your name until his voice is hoarse as he fucks his fist over and over and over – the thought that it was your hand or your pillowy lips guiding him into ecstacy pushes him to the very brink of insanity.

The dreams will do for now, he thinks privately as he stares at you through the glass pane of his office wall, straight to your cubicle, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall and muffled through the glass. He’s managed for the last six months since he first saw you, it’s fine.

Impatience chips away at his resolve, though, and his fuse is shortening by the day. No matter what it takes, no matter who you think is good for you right now, Bucky will have you, and when he does… He’s not ever letting you go.

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