#dreamy sigh. where is my wife | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Batting Practice Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It was your wedding day, and Bradley realized he was getting everything he wanted... not just a perfect wife, but a perfect family of three. After exchanging vows and promises, you and Everett take him home, because there's something important you want to ask him.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"I can't believe you're getting married tomorrow," Molly said from the spot where she was lounging in the middle of your bed eating tortilla chips dipped in marshmallow fluff. "I remember when you married Danny. God, you looked fucking miserable that day."

"I was miserable that day. Young and stupid, too. Thanks for reminding me." You tried to take the bag of chips away as you said, "I hate crumbs in my bed. Can't you at least sit on the floor or something?"

She whined and reached for the bag. "It's not for me! It's for the baby. Now be a nice auntie and let me have my little snack."

You weren't sure of all the details of what had gone down. All you knew was Molly and Bob were still together, and she was keeping the baby. Apparently there had been some pleading on his end. Molly said he begged her not to leave him, and then he promptly told her about a million times how much the idea of having a child with her thrilled him. And slowly but surely, over the past few weeks, she seemed to become attached to the idea of being a mom.

"Fine," you sighed, handing her the chips. "Have your snack. But just remember, I'm not doing it for you."

"The baby thanks you," she said, rubbing her tiny bump as she shoved four chips into her mouth. "I wonder what the guys are up to," she said after she was done chewing.

"Watching the Phillies game. Or at least that's what Bradley texted me a few minutes ago."

"Give me your phone! You're not supposed to be talking to him! Bob was supposed to hide Bradley's phone under our bathroom sink. My god, I can't trust him to do anything right," she said with a soft smile on her face. She yanked your phone away and tucked it behind her back. "Now try on your dress one more time. Your tits look so good in it."

"I need you to zip it. Go wash your hands."

She rolled her eyes so hard, it was like she was fifteen years old again, and then she went into your bathroom like she was told. "What's it like living with Bradley?" she asked, moving his stuff around on the counter. "Does he like belch all the time and scratch himself?"

You started laughing as you tried to pull your dress on. "No! He's perfect. It feels like he's always been here. He takes care of almost everything for Ev, and he's actually quite tidy." You skipped over all the parts where you and he had been making love all over the house just because you could, but you did add, "I love having him with us."

Molly turned around and smirked as she came to zip your dress. "If I ever marry Bob, which I might not!" she said, cutting off your excited look. "If I do though, it'll be in the middle of a wildflower meadow just after sunset. And I'll make my own bouquet with the flowers beforehand. Oh, and I'll have to make sure Bob takes his allergy pills. But it'll be so dreamy."

You were gaping at her in the mirror as she zipped the dress. "Really?" you asked, flabbergasted. "That's literally nothing like what I thought you were going to say."

Molly sighed and made her way back to the bag of chips. "It's these fucking hormones. Fuck! I want to get married in the middle of some flowers now! What the hell?" She was wiping at her eyes as she told you, "Pull your dress down a little bit. I'm telling you, Bradley won't even be able to focus on the ceremony with your boobs looking like that."

"The ceremony is only going to be like ten minutes long. If that," you reminded her. But damn, she was right. This dress fit you very well. "Thanks for having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the dress shop and kind of forcing me to buy this dress after I sat on the floor with it on."

She smiled at you as she dipped a chip into the fluff. "That's literally what I'm here for."

-------------------------

The following morning, Bradley pulled up to Petco Park with Bob and Everett in the Bronco just as the sun started to warm everything up for the day. He was getting married in an hour and a half. He felt jittery, but he wasn't nervous. He felt warm, but he wasn't uncomfortable. He felt like everything was the way he never knew, until very recently, that he wanted it to be.

"Ready, kiddo?" he asked Everett as he opened the back door. Everett scrambled into his arms and wrapped him in a hug around the neck.

"Yep!" he replied, and then the three of them were making their way into the Players Only Entrance where a security guard was waiting for them. "This is so cool," Everett whispered. The ballpark was basically deserted since the game didn't start until three o'clock, and they only passed a few other staff members as they entered the Padres locker room.

"Remember that fun tour we went on?" Bradley asked Everett as Bob held the door for them. He kissed his stepson on the cheek before setting him down on one of the benches.

Everett muttered, "Yeah," as he looked all around the room in awe. "But we went in the visiting team locker room."

Bradley laughed and looked around as well. "We sure did, because we wanted to see all the Phillies gear."

"Can we all go to Philadelphia?" Everett asked.

"Well, Philadelphia made it to the short list of vacation spots when I talked to your mom. We'll work on her. We already got a Phillies room out of her."

Everett was smiling nonstop as the three of them changed into their baseball jerseys in the same room where the Padres players would be putting on their uniforms in a few hours for their game against the Rockies. Bradley checked himself out in the mirror. They all matched, more or less, in their white jerseys with gold stitching and letters. Molly had been in charge of ordering them from a small boutique shop. Everett's said GRAND SLAM on the back. Bob's just said BOB. And Bradley's said GROOM; he was a little surprised his didn't come back saying TURD-IN-LAW to be honest.

When the security guard poked his head inside and said, "You can go out onto the field now," Bradley's heart started pounding. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he put his Phillies cap on backwards. Then he put Everett's on him backwards and picked him up again.

"I love you, Ev," he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. Bradley was in some ways more emotional about becoming Everett's stepdad than he was about marrying you. Because it was like a bonus. A little extra responsibility he never planned for. Falling in love with you was one thing, but this was something else entirely. Every time he looked at his kid, he saw innocent trust returned to him, and all Bradley wanted to do was make him feel safe and loved.

"I love you, Dad," he replied, like it was already the most natural thing in the world. And Bradley supposed it was. Because the two of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth. And Bradley was more than happy to step into the role of a father for this child.

When Bradley turned to Bob, he asked, "You have the rings?"

"In my pocket," he promised, and then the three of them were on their way. They walked quietly through the tunnel and out onto the turf. Everything smelled fresh, like grass and damp earth. Everett's head was on a swivel, looking all around, just like when they took the ballpark tour months ago.

They were being waved over to home plate by John, their tour guide from that very special day. "It's nice to see you again," he said, shaking hands with Bradley. "I've just been informed that your bride is on her way up from the other locker room."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered, anxious to see you and be with you. He held onto Everett a little tighter as they waited, and he laughed softly. Somehow you managed to pull off this wedding, and the fact that Jake was the one who helped you do it was almost too funny.

"Hi, Mommy!" Everett called, waving his hand as Bradley whirled around to find you walking out onto the infield. A strangled noise escaped him as you made your way closer with a soft smile on your lips. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. It was the only word to describe the day and how he felt and how you looked with Molly holding the bunched up bottom of your wedding dress.

"Kitten," he whispered, feeling short of breath as you joined him on home plate. Your dress was simple but beautiful, and Bradley wasn't ashamed to admit that he couldn't stop glancing at your tits. But it was the smile on your face that had him grinning, too.

When you leaned in to kiss Everett's cheek, Bradley took your chin in his palm and tried to kiss you. "Stop it!" Molly screeched as she finished straightening out your wedding dress. Bradley froze as she added, "You're not supposed to kiss her until John says it's time! Have you never been to a wedding before?"

"I'm so happy I'm gaining not only a wife and son today, but also such a lovely sister-in-law," he told her in response.

Molly smiled sweetly at him. "You should be delighted."

"Can we get married now?" you asked with a laugh, and Bradley set Everett gently down next to home plate.

"It's the only reason I'm here," he promised, taking your hands in his. "To marry my beautiful Kitten and live happily ever after."

You smiled at him as he pulled you a little closer. Everett was practically standing between the two of you, so excited for what was to come, and Bob and Molly stood next to John.

"Ready?" When everyone nodded, John said a few words about how he was pleased that he could perform this short ceremony today after being the one who gave them the tour of Petco Park. He told them that they made him smile so many times that day as they interacted with each other. And then he asked if you and Bradley wanted to say anything to each other.

"I'll go first," you said, ducking your head for a beat before you looked Bradley in the eyes. "The first day we met...the first day of tee ball...I took one look at you interacting with Everett, and I thought maybe there was a small chance that it wouldn't have to be just the two of us forever." You let go of Bradley's left hand and smiled at Everett as you ran your fingers along his cheek. "Not that there was anything wrong with the two of us, Ev. You know that, right?"

Everett nodded and told you, "I know."

"We were so close to perfect. But Bradley makes us even better," you said, looking up to meet his eyes again. You studied him for a beat, and Bradley watched your eyes fill with tears. "It's hard to explain how you make me feel so confident, when at the same time, you make me feel like you'll be strong when I can't."

"Kitten," he whispered, wiping your tears as they fell.

"I love you, Coach," you said with a soft laugh through your watery eyes that had him smiling and shaking his head. "You belong with us."

"I really do," he agreed.

"Your turn," you whispered, and with a nod, Bradley knelt down in the dirt next to home plate, his jeans getting messy in the process.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered to Everett, loud enough that you could still hear him.

"Hi, Dad," he replied, and Bradley wrapped him up in his arms as he started to cry.

"Thanks for letting me marry your mom," Bradley told him, his voice a little rough as he kissed Everett's forehead. "And thanks for letting me be your dad. I'm going to make some promises to you, okay?"

"Okay," Everett said with a little shrug that made Bradley chuckle.

He wiped at his tears as he said, "I promise to play baseball with you in the park all the time. At least until your mom gets annoyed. And I promise we'll watch the Phillies together in Philadelphia, because it's the only way to see the Phanatic up close."

"Yes!" Everett said, clapping his hands.

"And I promise to help you with your homework and make you pancakes and collect baseball cards together. And we can do anything else you decide you want to do, okay? Because I love you, kiddo."

Everett hugged him again, and when Bradley stood and looked at you, he was crying in earnest. "Kitten, I love your son just as much as I love you."

"I know it," you whispered, crying as well.

He took a deep breath and laughed. "Are you ready for your promises, Kitten?" When you nodded he took your hands in his again. "In front of Ev, Molly and Bob, and this immaculate turf at Petco Park, I promise I love you more than baseball."

You started laughing through your tears, and Bradley turned to see Molly wiping her own tears on Bob's jersey.

"That's a lot of love," you told him, squeezing his hands.

He nodded, pulling both of your hands so they were around his waist. "I promise I love you more than the Phillies. And I always will." He let his forehead come to rest against yours and said, "And if you'll let me be strong for you sometimes when you need it, then that's an honor, Kitten. Because you're the strongest person I know. But I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Your eyes closed as Bradley's lips brushed your forehead and his hands slipped around your waist. "John, I'm ready to kiss my wife."

"By all means," he replied, "go right ahead."

Your hands were around Bradley's neck, nudging his backward cap and pulling him closer, and then he was kissing you while your little cheering section of four people went wild.

"I love you," he promised against your lips, but you pulled him in for more with a smile. He brushed your nose with his and kissed you one last time. Then Bob was holding out one ring on each palm, and you let Bradley slip yours on before you took his left hand in yours. His ring looked perfect after you slid it into place. And then Everett was reaching for him, and Bradley scooped him up while you hugged your sister and kissed Bob's cheek.

"You're really my dad now," Everett said, letting his head come to rest on Bradley's shoulder.

Bradley held him close. "I think I already kind of was."

--------------------------

The fact that your wedding reception consisted of ballpark food and cheap beer in one of the Padres' suites had you and Bradley smiling nonstop. The two of you had taken wedding photos while the park was still empty, and most of the shots were of the three of you.

"Could I interest you in some nachos, Kitten?" Bradley asked, stealing a chip as he handed you a tray.

"Thanks, Coach," you said, kissing his cheek. "You know, I don't think we give Bob enough credit."

"What do you mean?" he asked, dipping another chip into the cheese and eating it.

"Well, we only met because he got you to coach the team with him in the first place. And he kind of let you bully me into being the Team Mom."

Bradley shook his head. "That seems like ages, not just just five months. You'd wear your little black skirt to practices and prance across the grass in your high heels. Fuck, you're so sexy." You giggled as he kissed you behind your ear. "And your tits look amazing in your dress."

"You can thank Molly for making me buy this one."

Bradley glanced toward where Molly and Bob were making out in the corner. His hands were all over the barely noticeable swell of her pregnant belly, and she was raking her fingers through his hair. "Nah, Bob's busy thanking her himself at the moment."

As more guests showed up just before the game started, you watched Nat squirt some ketchup onto a hotdog for Everett. And then you watched Bradley hold a napkin up while he ate it, just like he always did. The two of them were so shockingly similar, it was jarring at times when you remembered that Danny was Everett's biological father.

"Talk about an upgrade," you whispered, taking a sip of beer before you went to greet Maverick. You barely watched the game, too busy chatting with your friends and kissing Bradley nonstop. But the Padres won which made Bradley and Everett happy, so it made you happy, too.

And then by six o'clock, you had an exhausted seven year old son on your hands. He was crashing from all the snacks and the excitement of the day. "Time to head home," Bradley said, picking Everett up and kissing your lips. "And then we can send Ev off with my delightful sister-in-law."

You looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean? Ev's going to their condo for the night?"

"Two nights. I'm taking you to Palm Springs," he told you with a smirk. "We're having a real honeymoon now, and then I was thinking over winter break, we could take a family trip to Disney World?"

You threw yourself at him, and he collected you in his other arm. "That sounds perfect." You'd never been to Palm Springs or Disney World, but suddenly you wanted to go everywhere with him.

"You said Philadelphia," Everett whined in Bradley's grasp.

Bradley kissed his forehead. "That'll be in the spring, silly. Gotta go when the Phanatic is active in his natural habitat."

Your heart pounded as you walked out across the parking lot to the Bronco. Because it turned out Molly had been keeping two secrets today: one for Bradley and one for you and Ev. You didn't expect to be this nervous, but here you were, barely able to get your seatbelt buckled around your dress.

Bradley was sweet and gentle, taking the buckle from your shaking hands. "Are you okay, Kitten?" he asked, the dying sunlight turning his eyes a deep amber.

"Yes. Just can't wait to get home. Ev and I have a special wedding gift for you."

"Well, I can't wait either."

You bit your lip and looked out the window as you muttered, "Hope you like it."

Because Molly was the one driving her car, she and Bob got back to your house first. She was unlocking the front door so Bradley could carry Everett inside while he yawned. "We'll be out on the back deck," Molly said, taking Bob by the hand. "Let us know when Ev is all ready for his sleepover."

Now Bradley was the one who looked confused as they closed the back door behind them, leaving the three of you alone in the living room. "Ev's bag is already packed," Bradley said. "He can go with them anytime."

"That's true." You felt too hot in your wedding dress now, thinking you might need to take a minute to yourself. But then Everett was climbing out of Bradley's arms and reaching for the box you'd stashed under the couch.

"Can we give it to him?" he asked, looking up at you for permission with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yeah," you whispered, running your hand over your chest, trying to calm the pounding of your heart. Your eye caught on the baseball covered in hearts that Bradley had used to propose to you where it sat on your mantle. He belonged here with both of you, and you wanted Everett to have every opportunity to live his best life. "We can give it to him."

Then Everett thrust the wrapped box into Bradley's hands, and you realized you were both staring at him. You reached for your son, pulling him closer to you as Bradley shook the box a little bit. "This is for me?"

"Yes," you and Everett said in unison, but now you felt like you were going to be sick as he started to rip into the silver paper. And then he was opening the box.

A smile lit Bradley's face as he set the box aside and held up a Phillies jersey, examining the front of it. "I love it," he said, nodding his head. "But it looks a little small for me, doesn't it?"

You pressed your lips together as you squeezed Everett's shoulder. "Look at the back," you told him, your voice a little shaky.

Bradley turned it around and read it. "Bradshaw. But it's a child's size." When he met your eyes, you could barely see through your tears, and you even sensed that Everett was anxious now.

"It's not for you, Coach," you informed him softly. Then you looked down at your son for a beat as you said, "It's for Ev. This is just our way of asking you if you'd like to be Everett's father. If you'd like to adopt him."

You watched Bradley's lips part, but no words came out. He was looking between the two of you in awe as tears seemed to fill his eyes. Then he read the back of the jersey again as he sobbed. "Come here," he whispered, kneeling down in front of Everett and tucking the jersey under his arm. "Is that what you want, kiddo?"

Everett wrapped his arms around Bradley's neck and said, "Yes."

Then Bradley looked up at you with tears in his eyes. "You'd let me?"

"Yes!" you said, now crying as well. "It's what we want."

He buried his face in Everett's neck and squeezed him. "Yes, I want to adopt you, Ev," he managed. As he stood with Everett in his arms, he kissed you and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"We can do it soon," you told him, hugging him a little awkwardly as he held Everett. "I'll have my lawyer change my petition from child support to adoption. We can get new papers served. No more Danny. We don't need the money anyway. Not like we need you, Coach."

Bradley leaned down and kissed you. "First thing when we get back from Palm Springs, Kitten. Let's get this ball rolling. You won't have to worry about custody or Danny anymore. You won't even have to think about it. And I'll get my bonus," he told Everett with a grin. "A son to go along with my wife."

-------------------------------

Married! Adopting Ev! Happiness! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 30

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

822 notes · View notes

toomuchracket · 2 months

Text

day drinking (ross x girlband gf!reader smut)

first ever ross smut fic can u believe. anyway. summer75. warnings for exhibitionism and everyone being vaguely slaggy. enjoy <3

you're rinsing glasses in the kitchen when the doorbell goes. quickly wiping your hands, you weave your way through the house to the front door, scooping the cat up so she can't make a beeline for the street as soon as you open the door. when you do, you smile at the sight of gabbriette and matty, the latter holding a wine carrier in one hand. “hi, my darlings!”

“hello to you, too, gorgeous,” gabbriette pulls you into a quick hug, cooing at the kitten and taking the bag from her fiancé as she saunters towards the kitchen. “sorry we're late. one of us couldn't decide on an outfit, and it wasn't me.”

matty rolls his eyes, dropping a kiss on your head. “god forbid i wanna look good enough to keep up with the two of you - you really do look lovely, darling,” he ruffles your hair, before catching sight of the cat and beaming at her. “and who are you, baby?”

“oh, i forgot you haven't met nico yet!” you hold the cat up, and matty takes her in his arms eagerly, holding her as if she was a baby. “isn't she cute?”

“i'm literally gonna take her home with me.”

you snort, crossing the threshold to the kitchen, where gabbriette's already assembling snacks. “good luck trying to get her past ross. that's his baby you're holding right there, you know.”

gabbriette giggles. “i love that for him.”

“yeah, it's cute. now,” you clap your hands. “drinks? we've got… most things.”

“margs?”

“whatever you want, wifey, you'll get,” you kiss her nose, and she and matty both giggle; you kiss his, too, for equality, and they both laugh even harder. “ross has got a guinness surge machine outside now, matty, if you want…”

he shoves the cat into your arms and speeds out to the garden as quickly as you've ever seen him, so fast you half expect to see a looney tunes-esque trail of dust behind him. his wife-to-be sighs. “he's nuts.”

you bump your hip against hers on your way to lay the cat on her climbing tree. “and you're gonna marry him.”

“yeah,” her pretty face goes all dreamy, and it warms your heart. after a beat, though, she winks cheekily. “and then you're gonna marry his best friend.”

your cheeks burn, but still lift into a smile at the thought of tying the knot with ross; neither of you have explicitly brought it up to each other, but you hope it'll happen one day. he is the love of your life, after all. “well, maybe someday,” you busy yourself with salting the rim of two coupé glasses, and adding lime to the tequila and agave already in the cocktail shaker. “i just don't know if he wants to, y'know?”

gabbriette scoffs. “oh, please. he looks at you so intimately that we all feel like we're intruding just by being in the vicinity, and you don't know if he wants to marry you? come on, babe.”

she's got a point, to be fair. ross's gaze is so sweetly intense that it sometimes makes you weak in the knees, so overwhelming that you have to look away or bury your face into his chest to cope; you've a sneaking suspicion that's why he does it, because it gives him an excuse to hold you close and softly rub your back and whisper that he loves you into your hair.

some days, though, your boyfriend doesn't need an excuse to be affectionate with you like that, and today is seemingly one of those days. practically as soon you've stepped outside to join him and the rest of your friends, gabbriette in tow, ross is waving you over to him with a “c'mere, love, sit with me”. when you put your cocktail on the little side table and oblige, he tugs you further onto his lap, kissing your temple; you sink into his chest, warm from the afternoon sun, and take in the scene in front of you. george is deep in conversation with carly, whose son is half lying across a sunlounger and half across his aunt charli; she’s talking to matty - insouciantly draped on a beanbag next to you - and adam, who shuffles along the rattan couch so gabbriette can sit down. she takes a sip of her margarita and nods at you approvingly. “this is good, babe.”

you wink. “that's the tequila you got me for my birthday.”

“can i try?” ross's face screws up when he tries the drink - very cutely, though. “christ, that's strong.”

“maybe you're just a lightweight,” you tease, flicking his nose. “can't hack it anymore. oh my god, maybe you're getting old.”

he bites playfully at your fingers to make you laugh. “am not!”

before you can respond, baby hann chips in with all of the tact a three-year-old can have - which is, you know, none at all. “yeah you are.”

he looks pleased with himself as the grown-ups burst into laughter, cuddling into charli when she kisses his head proudly. you lean across to hi-five your nephew, while ross rolls his eyes and tries (poorly) to keep the smile from his face. “and here i thought we were pals, mate.”

“we are! but you're still old.”

the laughter increases, even ross chuckling. you love these moments, you really do, sat in the sunshine with the people you love most in the world, everyone happy and bright. the atmosphere lingers even after the sun sets and the hanns head home, the youngest asleep in his mother's arms after a day spent stroking nico and playing football with his uncles and learning snippets of spanish from auntie gabbi; you stay curled up against ross, only moving to refill your drink or take a lazy hit of the joint being passed around the remaining six of you.

at some point - you've no idea what time it is, too tipsy and high and happy to take note of such trivial things - the breeze picks up slightly, passing over your bare legs and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. you shiver, and ross looks down at you, concern in his warm eyes. “you cold, pretty girl?”

“little bit. my legs.”

he smiles, scooping you onto him and wrapping an arm around your knees. “better?”

“mhmm. thank you,” you pout, and he kisses you, slightly longer than could be considered polite amidst company. still, it's good. “love you.”

“love you too, baby.”

across from you, george pretends to retch. he giggles when you scowl at him, blowing you a kiss. “i'm taking the piss. you guys are cute.”

his other half pipes up. “and really fucking hot,” she downs the rest of her wine, and you brace yourself for her inevitable next statement. “i still maintain you'd make a killing on onlyfans, by the way.”

the boys all shake their heads and mutter swear words in dismay, while you laugh. only gabbriette stays unaffected, taking a puff of her fiancé's cigarette and turning to charli. “oh, you wouldn't be able to handle watching them like that.”

charli cackles. “and you would?”

“maybe,” gabbriette smirks knowingly at you. “i'd happily try.”

you smirk right back. “yeah, i bet you would.”

she already has, live and in-person with her fiancé on ross's birthday, but charli and george don't need to know that. and, honestly, you don't need to be thinking about that night right now either, not when you're already slightly amorous from the drinks and the joint and just being in your boyfriend's arms. you have a sneaking suspicion that ross is aware that's how you feel; he adjusts you so you're sat more between his legs than on them, and calls a request to his friend. “matty, chuck us that blanket, will you?”

you squint up at your boyfriend as he spreads the fabric over your legs. “m'not that cold, baby.”

“no?” ross smiles, the somewhat manic glint in his eye sending shocks of anticipation through you - you know what that look means, and the way he lowers his voice to speak directly in your ear. “you don't need me to warm you up?”

heat floods through you, settling in your cheeks and underwear. “now?”

“no time like the present, love. s'your call, though.”

you glance at your friends, all four of them preoccupied in some sort of debate and getting progressively louder with each passing second, then look back at ross with a smile. “yes, please.”

“alright,” he leans down to kiss you, strategically timing it so your whimper at his hand sliding into your underwear is muffled by his lips. “not a sound, you hear me? not sharing you today, my girl.”

“mmmkay… oh, fuck,” you hiss against his mouth as two calloused fingers slip inside your needy cunt. “m'sorry, i just,” you exhale as ross gives you a second to adjust, before experimentally pulling out and beginning to slowly finger-fuck you. “feels really good.”

“i know, baby,” ross coos, centimetres from your face. “doing so well for me. keep it up, yeah? but,” he pulls back, shuffling you so it looks more like he's hugging you. “you're the hostess. don't be antisocial.”

fuck him.

but he won't let you do that if you disobey. so, instead, you take a deep breath, turning your head slightly so your friends can see more of your face. ross speeds up his movements - a test - and you feel him smile into your hair when you don't react other than clenching around him. “good girl.”

you smile softly at the praise, doing your best to focus on the conversation around you rather than what's happening inside you. for the most part, it's easy, ross's perpetual inability to fall out of rhythm working in your favour here - you quickly grow accustomed to the thrusting of his fingers and their tempo, the pleasure they're giving you firmly in the background behind the melody of your friends talking.

and then he changes angle.

you squeak, hastily turning it into a cough and praying nobody notices - unluckily, charli does, turning to look at you with concern. “you alright, babe?”

“yeah,” you manage to croak out, doing your best to trap ross's hand between your thighs so you can answer calmly. “just caught the smoke, i think. but please continue.”

you aren't sure whether that was aimed at her or ross. both oblige you, though, charli going back to yapping about a recent holiday while your boyfriend does his best to get you off. and it's working - the heel of his hand bumps against your clit with every thrust, while those long, long fingers of his hook into your g-spot and send sparks shooting through your nervous system. suddenly, george starts to look blurry as he talks across from you, and you make the executive decision to turn and snuggle into ross so nobody can see the tears in your eyes. being social be damned; you can't have your friends seeing you like this, because they'll put all the attention on you and ask what's wrong, and ross will stop. and wouldn't that be the worst thing of all, when you're as close to climax as you are?

ross knows you're about to cum, of course he does, and discreetly wipes your tears away before pressing his forehead to yours. to your friends, it would look like a tender moment, two lovers being affectionate, instead of the depravity it really is, with him murmuring “don't fight it, love. cum for me” and smiling when you obey with every muscle in your body tensed. the pleasure is almost blinding as it reaches its peak, manifesting in chattering teeth and the shaky exhale of breath that leaves your lips as you come down - despite it all, you smile into your boyfriend's chest, humming as he gently pulls his fingers from you and quickly brings them to his mouth. your eyes widen at the boldness, but ross simply giggles and whispers in your ear. “wasn't gonna waste it, was i?”

“you're an idiot,” you sigh, kissing him quickly and smiling at the faint tang of yourself on his tongue. “i love you, though. a lot.”

“love you, too,” ross kisses your nose. “wouldn't have fingered you in front of all our friends if i didn't.”

you smack him on the arm as he laughs, and you've just opened your mouth to respond when a familiar voice from the beanbag beside you cuts in, equally as quiet as you and ross. “fucking knew it. freaks.”

shit.

#mads muses #mads does writing #summer75 #girlband gf #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald smut #ross x reader

100 notes · View notes

taintandviolent · 11 months

Text

go for a drive ; James March x reader

summary: 364 days of the year, you're the one who has to go see him. but on Halloween, you two go for a drive. w a r n i n g s: 5.2k words. smut, kinda slow-burn, smut with a little plot, female receiving penetration, sex toys, fingering, handjobs, mentions of ghosts/death. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] inspired by this gif and @redwoodghost and @silverzoomies (also my beta readers thank you pookies)! Happy (early) Halloween, readers! May your Halloween night / Halloweekend be filled with spooks and fun, but if not... enjoy this smutty little fic. I wanted to at least get this one out on/before Halloween, even though I've been terribly behind on all of my writings. If you enjoyed, please let me know! comments and reblogs are appreciated. 🖤 full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

October 31st.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh, James drove happily down the road, without a care in the world. The breeze that exhaled from the coastline fluttered your hair gently, twisting your delicate tresses as it blew through them. You wordlessly watched him as he drove, as he lived, memorising the way that his eyes would dart from the road to look out at the sea, then back again, head full of presumably thoughts. You let out a dreamy sigh; the same one you’d let out as you watched him get gas — such a mundane thing made important. You laughed as he waited in the car for someone to come out, frustrated with the lack of hospitality these places possessed.

Eventually, you’d pulled out your debit card and leaned out of the car to slide the card into the slot. James protested furiously, insisting that a lady should never pay for a date, but you shushed him with two delicate kisses to the corners of his mouth. He’d pay you back in other ways, you promised. That seemed to sate his intolerance.

As he drove, James’ pale complexion seemed to reflect the setting sun, flushing him with warmth. His forever pitch-black eyes were sometimes — when the sunlight hit them just right — the warmest, darkest chocolate brown you’d ever seen. You were so used to seeing them in the dim, moody lighting of the Hotel Cortez, it seemed that every day besides this day, you forgot that. Because three hundred and sixty four days of the year, he remained in the Hotel Cortez. He liked it just fine, after all — he’d built it. His own personal, torturous heaven. Now, of course, it was home to a few awkward (and unfortunately) permanent guests. Still, he never complained, unless of course, you weren't there .

Those were the days where his temper would sour; he’d snap at Miss Evers, or shoo away Elizabeth on the rare occasion she wanted to speak to him. The days where his little cream puff, his hummingbird didn’t grace the hallways with her rabbit soft steps and darling laughter… Those were the days where he wished he wasn’t stuck there for all eternity and instead, doing whatever you were doing in the outside world. It didn’t matter what it was.

While you couldn’t spend every single day there, you were so enamoured with James March that you took any chance you got to pull yourself away from your meddling little life. You would drive downtown and burst through those ornate, gold doors to fall right into his arms. You’d come to learn that it drove his ex-wife mad, the way he’d sense your arrival, and rush through the lobby like a mad man. He always wrapped his arms around you so tightly that you felt your breath rush from your lungs. He frequently kissed a line from your shoulder to your forehead, lingering on your lips for a second longer than any other spot.

He lingered much longer than normal last night when you arrived for his annual Devil’s Night Dinner Party. You hardly cared about that — to you, more importantly, it was his birthday , and no matter the circumstance, you’d be in attendance for that. You were never fond of his guests, and they were never fond of you, but be that as it may, you were spending time with James and that was your joy in life. In recent years, the dinners had seemed shorter to you; James peppered the evening with secretive touches, and whispered comments that kept you going through all the atrocities. Frighteningly, those atrocities had become less and less appalling to you. You watched, wordlessly, as the band of notorious serial killers descended on the unfortunate victims of the evening, and merely blinked, before turning away to look at your hands, or scroll through your social media feeds as they did their work.

Finally, as the night would draw to an end, it was your time. He’d let the psychos free to do whatever they wanted in his Hotel, and you two got to nuzzle each other’s necks for hours on end. You hadn’t brought a present as he insisted that the way you’d give yourself to him was a gift enough.

And give yourself to him you did. After a shower to rinse the sludge of his guests from your form, you gave yourself to him against the wall, with your leg hoisted into the air and then again on the dinner table, where, in a fit of passion, he’d knocked one of the wine glasses to the floor. There was rarely ever a night where James would only take you once. Once was never enough to him, he craved you in ways unimaginable to you.

James withdrew his hand from your thigh to place it on the wheel, navigating around a particularly tight turn. “Well, my dear. How shall we finish off our evening? Dinner as usual? See a picture perhaps?”

You’d spent the early part of your day having brunch at a quaint little cafe a few miles from the Hotel, a darling walk on the beach, and dinner at one of his favourite restaurants. James drove — he insisted. It was the one day a year he got to do anything besides sit in the garage. Someone had polished his cherry-red 1920s ReVere convertible the night before, perhaps Miss Evers, perhaps him. Part of you thought it might’ve been him, because you could easily picture him meticulously polishing this beauty of a car, readying it for a day of gallivanting around Los Angeles.

“James,” you replied, scooting closer on the seat, the silken fabric of your dress slipping easily on the leather interior. The breeze wafted his cologne in your direction and you filled your lungs with it unabashedly — god, he smelled good. “My answer is the same every single year. As long as I’m spending time with you, I’d do anything.”

Anything. He seemed to roll that word over and over in his mind. Any-thing. As though you were beholden with a need to fulfil his wants and desires, you never protested to anything he suggested.

“In that case… something new.” he murmured as he turned the wheel suddenly, veering off the main highway. The wheels crunched the gravel beneath as he wound higher up, before pulling into a small alcove that overlooked the ocean.

This was new.

He killed the engine, letting you both fall into silence. Aside from the crashing of the waves against the rocks and the occasional car driving by, there was nothing. Just nature and the two of you. You must’ve been somewhere around Malibu, you thought. Maybe farther. Perhaps Zuma. You hadn’t been paying attention, but regardless of where, the sight was breathtaking. A romantic spot. Had he brought other girls here? Perhaps to murder them. Surely, the ocean provided an excellent disposal system.

“It’s beautiful out here, James…” you whispered softly.

“As are you. Far more so.”

With your cheeks aflame, you turned away from the coastline to face him. He was staring at you, with one arm stretched casually over the back of the seat. You knew he was analysing you and shamelessly drinking in your presence — savouring the little things that the Hotel Cortez failed to provide; the way the salty air blew your hair about, the chill that made you shiver ever so slightly, the way the sun seemed to wash your skin in gold…

“What? What are you thinking? You’re always so pensive.” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his strong jawline. He clasped his hand over yours, leaning into it, and turning his face so he could kiss your palm.

“Mm, perhaps — mm.” Another kiss and he brought your hand down to his lap, resting it upon his clothed thigh. “Perhaps I just take you here, my little hummingbird. Right here.” The way he spoke was threatening and lusty, and sent a chill down your spine. You shivered closer to him.

“Perhaps you do…” you said. Although you weren’t from his time, you found yourself mimicking his speech style, and he always seemed delighted when you did. A gem amongst a flooding sea of lingo that he loathed and refused to understand. He was a sharp fellow; he could decipher what certain things meant, but he was as bright as he was stubborn.

James leaned over in his seat, the leather creaking with his weight and with a murmuring sigh, he pressed his lips to the top of your shoulder, skin exposed where the hem of the dress had slipped down. He peppered delicate kisses along your collarbone, dipping down to the front of your décolleté and inhaled deeply. You shivered, tittering girlishly at the sensation of his moustache tickling your chest. “Such a delightful girl you are,” he crooned, his syrupy soft voice melting into you.

While he continued kissing, his large fingers trailed down the front of your dress, watching your reaction carefully. Your breath hitched as he neared your centre and James paused, looking deeply into your eyes. You bit your bottom lip, and crushed your mouth against his, warm and heavy. As he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping out to find yours, the sun sank below the horizon, and James slid his left arm behind your back, wrapping it strongly around your waist.

Even on the one day he was free to be amongst the living, he remained ghostly. His lips were soft and cool, and the inside of his mouth had a particular unnatural chill that sent a wave of goosebumps erupting across your skin. Still, you loved kissing him. You loved the way he’d devour you, encircling your tongue like it was caught in a tango. James always held you when he kissed you, asserting that either you’d not escape, or that you felt safe in his arms. Perhaps a confusing melange of both.

A car zipped past, the headlights illuminating your indecency and you jumped, suddenly aware that despite the privacy of the alcove, you two were still in a public place. More than that, you were fooling around like two teenagers in a public place, just off the main highway. Scandalous. “James! What if someone sees!”

“Let them, my darling. Allow them a glimpse of the greatest pleasures they’ll never know.”

James fingered the hem of your panties, before slipping underneath the satin. He stroked the mound of flesh tenderly, trailing down between the slit of your cunt until he found your entrance. The wetness greeted him quicker than he’d anticipated as told by the devilish smirk that tightened his features. On instinct, your legs spread slightly, giving him more room to work. The reality was that you were already craving more of his touch and hoped to entice him deeper. Still, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed that you were so wet already.

“It’s your kissing, James…” you explained. “It always gets me going… I can’t help it.”

“You’re apologising?”

“Well, no, yes— aaah !”

James clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His large hand cupped your cunt, middle finger encircling your clit gently. Throngs of energy shot up the front of your torso, making you tremble instantaneously. James watched as you writhed and wriggled underneath him, though his strong arm kept you close to his body. “Speak up, my dear.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words amidst your brain’s white, hot fog. “I… I’m uh… my god, I wasn’t sure if it… James, my god, please. I can’t get a word out.”

“That’s alright, I can gather what you meant. Nonsense.”

Carefully finding the entrance again, James slid two fingers inside and you let out a gasp, clamping your eyes shut and letting your mouth fall open. Exhaling desperate, breathy moans as his fingers curled inside, finding the spongey flesh with ease. You arched your back, bracing your neck against the back of the seat. As he worked your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, you blindly felt for his groin. Beneath ironed dress pants, you felt the shape of his cock, warm and stiff. James March was many things, and well endowed was one of them. With a playful pout contorting your plump lips, you stroked it outside of his trousers for a few moments, teasing him to the point of frustration. He clenched his teeth, hissing through them.

“James,” you purred. “Then, let me…”

Hips first, he scooted closer, giving you unspoken permission to touch him. You found the waist of his pants, slid the button out and reached in. Inside of you, James’ fingers stopped moving at the sensation, and he huffed breathily in your ear. Although you’d touched him many times, he never seemed to get used to the feeling and always responded to it with the most delighted, euphoric reaction. You yanked the waistband of his briefs down to free his cock.

Keeping eye contact, you worked the saliva up with your tongue, collecting it in your mouth. Once you’d had a mouthful, you bent at the waist and parted your lips, letting your spit fall onto the head, glazing it. James hissed, watching you with a depraved glimmer in his eyes. You were so polite, so innocent, and yet…

With a honeyed sigh, you began playing with him, gliding your fingers over the deep red skin of his head, pressing your thumb into the flesh and squishing more pre-cum from the tip. It was hot to the touch, and with no conscious decision of his own, it began thrusting into the circle of your grip. You made a loose fist, allowing the length of his cock to slide in and out of it. He found his natural rhythm again, pumping his thick digits in and out of your cunt.

Moving your hand further down his shaft, you reached the base, and squeezed gently. The addicting sensation of rigidity, paired with the soft, pliable skin had you biting your lip as you worked his cock in and out of your fingers. James let out a desperately hungry whine, and pressed his thumb into your clit. His chest was heaving now, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he leaned back against the seat.

You whimpered, and dragged your hand upwards, jerking him off faster. His cock was rigid and burning up — he liked this a lot . Perhaps it was voyeurism, perhaps it was circumstance, but whatever it was, it had him acting feral. In turn, that had you acting similarly. You spread your legs further, undulating your hips to further the sensation along. The coil in your tummy wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, and you gushed around his fingers, pulsating in tight clenches. Your lips parted, allowing a drawn out moan to flutter breathily out. To James, it was akin to music. Cries of sex and cries of agony were so similar.

As you came, his lips found the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sweet flesh that greeted him. He groaned and snarled into your skin, murmuring lascivious words directly into your ear. You shivered with each one, laughing breathily between moans.

You felt a particular tension within him, and kept your speed, running your thumb along the underside of the head. His breath hitched in his throat. He pumped his fingers faster, curling them deeper into your cunt. His thumb repeatedly bumped into your clit, sending you into a blurry, eye-watering state of euphoria. Beneath your dress, your thighs quivered, trembled with overstimulation. There was suddenly a burn deep within your core that you knew all too well — the second orgasm.

“Don’t — don’t stop…!” He ordered. Despite your quivering muscles, you continued playing with his thick cock. With a coy smile, you leaned forward, angling your open mouth over the head of his dick. Teasingly, you’d lean away every time he bucked his hips upward, seeking out the slick, warmth of your mouth.

“Diabolical!” Sweat glistened across his forehead, his neck reddened with pleasure. You smirked up at him, peering at him through your lashes. Admittedly, you were being rather naughty, but it was so fun to see such a pristine man come undone.

James never worried about stains; Miss Evers could get anything out of anything. So, he came enthusiastically, his entire body tightening and convulsing with the waves of his orgasm. He bucked his hips hard into the grip of your hand as tears of white wept from the slit, cascading over your knuckles and dribbled in large, sticky droplets onto his pants. One hit the bottom of your lip, and as you pulled away, you made a show of wiping it from your mouth before flattening your tongue against the pad of your finger.

As he came down from the high, you watched him silently. You two were submerged in darkness, but the glow from the highway’s street lamps illuminated him in a shadowed, film noir sort of way, chiseling his jaw and bringing the soulless blackness back to his eyes. This was the James you knew. The dark one, the one that was soft for you, but underneath his lust and adoration, you knew he wondered what you’d sound like dying.

“Was that good?”

“That’s not the word I’d use, my dear…”

You grinned to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your dress. James heaved a sigh and tucked his softening cock back into his pants, adjusting it until it was comfortable.

“I’ve a splendid idea. Why don’t you show me your home?” He asked, though it was more of a demand; he’d already made up his mind as he started the car.

“My home?” Immediately, panic flowed over you as he began to drive back the way you’d come. Had you done the dishes? Was the bed made? That pile of dirty clothes on the chair in your bedroom — had you put that away? You didn’t have Miss Evers to clean up after you, and once you came home from work, you wanted to do nothing but relax. “God, there has to be something more interesting than that to do.”

James waved his hand at you dismissively, ignoring your concerns, before returning it to the steering wheel and pulling back onto the main highway, headed back to Los Angeles. Anxiety made the drive feel short; you spent half of the ride trying to visualise the state you’d left your apartment in, and the rest of the ride sheepishly giving him directions, pointing to the necessary exits.

Finally, he pulled up in front of the curb. You looked towards your front door, nervously. It wasn’t a dump, but it certainly lacked the lustre and grandeur of the Cortez.

“Love your costume,” a girl said to James as you passed them. He turned to protest, but you immediately grabbed his arm, towing him towards your front door with a hurried, “Thank you! We love the 20’s!”

You filled your lungs with air, took a deep breath and opened the door. You peeked through with one eye at first, lessening the blow. Thankfully, aside from a hoodie, and a pair of socks, the living room looked… clean. The kitchen was another story; you hadn’t done dishes in a few days, and the impressive collection of coffee cups and cereal bowls would remain in the dark.

James paraded around, taking in the place where you lived, where you spent the time that you weren’t with him. Casually, he muttered an order and he headed towards your bedroom. You straightened up, slightly confused, but reached around the back of your dress, feeling for the zipper.

He stood out front of your door, leaning his broad shoulder against the frame. “Is it here?” He asked, gesturing to the bed. “Is it here that you pleasure yourself?”

Holding the front of your dress to your chest, you turned, blushing. “S-sometimes. Other times it’s in the shower. But most of the time… most of the time - yes.”

“Touch yourself… go on. Consider it a late birthday present.”

He’d made the demand impossible to deny now. A birthday present? You couldn’t be rude. You whimpered nervously as you dropped the dress to the floor, stepping out of the circle of it. Eyes locked on him, you sat down on the bed, scooting backwards until you felt your pillows. With a shaky inhalation, you leaned back and allowed your fingers to trail slowly down your stomach towards your cunt. Once you found her, she was soft and warm, and the entrance was still slightly slick from earlier.

“I want to see what it is that you do…” he crooned lowly. “…exactly how you do it. The only difference now is that you don’t need to imagine anything, my buttercup. I’m right here.”

“Well,” you paused at that, eyes drifting to your bedside table. “Exactly? I usually use my uh…” You rolled onto your side, pulled the drawer opened and produced a deep red coloured vibrator. “This.”

“Ah, yes . A vibrator.”

Incredulously, you asked: “You know what this is?”

“Ahh, my dear.” Hooking his thumb around his suspenders, he pulled them down over his shoulders. “Electric vibrators were invented before I was a twinkle in my mother’s eye. Doctors used them to… relieve hysteria in females. By the twenties, they were a common household item — of course I know what that is. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.

You laid, stunned, at the momentary history lesson. You’d had no idea that James knew what a vibrator was, and moreover, seemed to know more about them than you did. One button at a time, James began undressing himself, watching you as you brought the vibrator to life with a muted buzzing. You neared the tip of the vibrator to your clit, but paused. James opened his shirt, draping it carefully over the end of your bed frame.

His pale chest, lightly muscled, was now on display for you. The visual blindsided you, and you found yourself staring, letting your eyes trail up and down his form. You’d seen him shirtless — and even nude — so many times that you’d memorized his body at this point, but it never failed in taking your breath away.

“Well…” you started, snapping yourself out of your stupor. “You were, but… not… actually yesterday. But you were born yesterday.”

“Quite right. In 1895. Therefore, I know what a vibrator is, and I know how you use one — so… use it.”

You bowed your head shyly, and pressed the vibrator to your clit. You’d turned it up high; the sensation sent a shockwave through your core, and you jerked forward up onto your elbows.

The sight of a shirtless James at the edge of your queen size bed was enough to make you cum again. He looked so out of place in your modern room, but there was something incredibly sexy about it — a fantasy. Something you’d pictured hundreds of times.

The vibrator buzzed on, drilling into the bundle of nerves with mechanical ease. You slipped it over your clit, and swept it side to side before plunging it deep into your cunt; it slipped in with a slick swallow. James wouldn’t take his eyes off you, watching every moment of this erotic torture that you were bestowing upon yourself. You writhed, kicked and moaned… and yet, you still continued. Your breathing was erratic, your breasts rising and falling with each breath you took. You brought the vibrator back out for more clitoral stimulation, and crushed your head into the pillow beneath your head, forcing it down into the mattress as you slid the smooth plastic between your folds.

“ Aaauuuuuggggh… . My god, fuck….”

“That’s it, good girl.”

Your cunt clenched, your lids falling shut. You continued pumping the vibrator in and out, feeling every throb that she gave. You rubbed the angled tip over your clit, edging yourself further. Your legs were shaking again, you were close.

“No no, eyes on me.”

Your lids snapped open, absolutely willing to take in the visual before you. For the first time in long time, you didn’t need to rely on your imagination; everything you desired was currently crawling up towards you from the end of the bed with his pants hanging open and a dastardly smirk on his lips.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you breathed. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Your gaze hungrily dropped to his groin, gobbling up the visual; the outline of his hardened cock beneath his briefs. This had gotten him worked up again, and you knew what was coming next. Or maybe next, after you.

James interlaced your fingers, lifting your hand from yourself and freeing you from the pleasuring. It was his turn. The vibrator dropped to the mattress, still buzzing. Your hand came down on the bed sheets, blindly slapping around until you found it. With a hard press from your thumb, you silenced it.

You were gasping for air like a fish, begging for relief. He had stopped you, edged you just before you came, and the warning clenches were hot and angry. Wordlessly, James climbed atop of you, supporting himself with a hand on either side of your head as he gazed down at you. His eyes danced over your form, lingering at your pulse as it throbbed in your neck — he always was innately interested in your heartbeats and your pulses, he’d press his hand your heart during orgasms, feeling the organ as it hammered an erratic rhythm through your skin. You chewed your lip, gazing right back up at him. He was so handsome; your stomach feeling like a bundle of fried and deeply tangled wires every time you looked at him. You were never sure what about yourself had enchanted him so deeply, but it was an obsession. It was something that tormented him, and needed to be constantly sated.

He reached into his briefs, letting his cock bounce free. It bobbed heavily, bumping into the lower part of your stomach, twitching to find something to penetrate. Beads of pre-cum fell, stringing from his cock to your skin, connecting you two for a brief moment before it stretched and snapped, falling just below your belly button.

He lowered his arms, bringing his mouth to your breast, where he began peppering kisses along the fullness of them. His teeth grazed your nipple and your back arched, a moan escaping as he bit down, just hard enough to cause a twinge of pain — you jerked your hips upwards, pressing his cock back up against his own stomach. The pressure brought a syrupy “Oooh” from his throat.

His cheek was suddenly pressed against yours, his lips by your ear. “I can’t very well fuck you with these on…” His fingers hooked around the elastic of your underwear, snapping them back against your skin. You immediately swung into action, shimmying them down over the curve of your ass, and down your thighs.

“There… all better.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the side of his face.

At that, James straightened up and angled his hips down before pressing them hips into you, urging the head of his cock to breach your entrance. You scooted further down on the mattress to meet his hips, and pushed him just a little bit deeper than he’d already gone. You revelled in the sensations; the hot stinging stretch before the release as the head slipped in, the fullness of his girth pressing against your slick walls, and finally, the ache as he bottomed out, his groin bumping roughly against yours.

His thrusts were quick and deep. You felt the immediacy of his need, the surging desire that coursed through him like electricity. Dark strands fell into his eyes as he slammed his cock into you, drilling deep into your cunt. Every slick, hungry pull of your cunt drove him wild, it was a feeling unlike any other. Not even Elizabeth, with all of her dominating energy, had made James growl in ecstasy like you did.

He straightened up, took hold of your hips and quickly found a rhythm of pulling you onto his cock — your eyes rolled back in your head. Your skin flushed, a sheen of sweat covering both your bodies.

“J-James,” you stuttered. He nodded in response, buried too deeply in his euphoria to respond. “It feels so good — oh god… oh-oh god.”

You felt the sensation of your hot, aching cunt tightening. A moan caught in your chest, and your breath shuddered. As she released in a series of throbs, you rocked your hips against him, pulling James closer to you, wrapping your arms around his scarred back.

He bucked his hips a final time, bottoming out, before he moved his hips haphazardly, bunny humping you. Strings of white coated your insides, you felt it ooze from your hole as he pulled his cock from you.With a sigh, James rolled off of you, and flopped heavily next to you, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling as his breathing slowed.

“You are… sensational, my little pet. Sensational.”

A smile on your lips, you reached for your phone, tapping the side button to illuminate it. Your smile faded quickly; the sun would be rising within the next two hours and your romantic day would be over. Until next year. You weren’t ready for the night to end, and rotated your body on the bed.

“James,” you murmured, stroking his chest with a single finger. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“You never need to ask, my dear.”

As soon as you two walked through the doors of the Hotel, you spotted her. Countess. Elizabeth. She was standing on the second floor, wearing a silvery house robe and presumably nothing else, arms spread out on the railing like wings. She glared down at you.

With a kind smile in her direction, you pulled yourself closer to James as he made his way towards the stairs. She glowered, all but snarling her plump, red lips at you as you ascended. James had told stories of how… tempestuous his ex-wife was, but further, how uninterested in him she was. Was she truly so cruel that the moment he took joy in having someone else, she wanted to crush that?

“James,” she sneered from above, not bothering to address you. You rolled your eyes so hard they ached; her constant bitchiness was alluring, terrifying at first, but it had now become nothing more than an annoyance, akin to the whining of a mosquito. “Have fun on your day off?”

“Immeasurably.” He replied, curtly.

“And what did you two do, hmmm?” Her voice was breathy and hoarse, and even given the tryingly aloof words, was still delicious to listen to. It was a shame she wasted her breath on such immaturities.

“Now, now. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, my dear. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”

You smiled. Of course she’d be jealous; after all… it wasn’t her that James had just pumped full.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @poltoreveur /

#Happy Halloween #James Patrick March #AHS Hotel #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March x you #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #American Horror Story #lizzieshalloweenfics #myfics

349 notes · View notes

carnationworld-writings · 1 year

Text

And I know when I need it I can count on you (Jake Seresin x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

Universe: Top Gun Maverick

Word Count: 1003

Requested: No

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, morning sickness

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: The one where Hangman takes care of his wife.

Jake Seresin loved mornings with his wife. He loved when they could sleep without having to wake up to work. He loved how she snuggled into his side to hide her face from any sun rays that could fall on her eyes, how his shirt lifted on her body and how her hair looked messy when she finally woke up. Hangman adored that they could hug, make out and sometimes have that amazing lazy sex. What he hated in the mornings was to see her rushing to the bathroom to empty her stomach because of the morning sickness. He stood up, sighing and rubbing his eyes with his hand to get rid of sleep. He went after her and wetted the towel before kneeling next to her. He secured the hair that nearly fell on her face and started to caress her back. He whispered reassuring words into her ear. When she finished, she sat on the floor, leaning against his chest. Seresin wrapped his arms around her and gently whipped her face with the towel.

“I hate this… Why couldn’t pregnancy show itself in any other way?” She mumbled, closing her eyes under the caring touch of her husband.

“I don’t know, darlin’. I wish I could take it on myself.” He kissed the top of her head. “But I know it will be worth it.”

“If this baby will not have your eyes, I’m gonna be mad.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh rising in his chest. He put away the towel, and his hand mindlessly went to her belly. He started to draw circles with his thumb on her soft skin.

“You heard it, little one? You have to have my eyes, and I’m voting for you to have your mama’s smile, alright? And try to be nice to your mama, please.” From the corner of his eye, he saw how she smiled and placed her hand against his. Her fingers immediately found his wedding band and touched it gently. He leaned a little and soundly kissed her cheek, making her giggle.

“I have a feeling that this child will be a little troublemaker. Just like their dad. And just like their dad, will have the ability to extricate yourself from any predicament.” She looked at him and smiled a little, seeing a dreamy look on her husband’s face. Knowing him well enough, she could tell that he was thinking about how it would be when the baby finally arrived. She nuzzled her nose against his cheek, making him smile wider and kissing the tip of her nose. It was their way of communicating without words - just one look made them know that the other person loved them unconditionally.

“Are you ready to stand up?” He whispered, placing one more kiss on her nose.

“I think so.” She smiled at him and watched him stand up to reach her hand to her to help her. He watched her closely when she moved to wash her face and teeth. “I’m alright, Jake. You don’t need to watch my every move.”

“I just checked if getting up that quick didn’t make you dizzy. Blood pressure and all.” He smiled when she laughed, and love was written on his face. “But if you are alright, I’m gonna make breakfast. And when you finish, go to bed.” He kissed the top of her head, and when she nodded, he winked at her. She giggled, watching him go out and return to cleaning herself. Gladly she came back to bed - all that hormones and constant nausea made her incredibly tired, so she took every chance to rest. She wrapped the blanket around herself and rested against the headboard, taking the phone to check social media. After a moment, she looked up, smiling brightly at Jake, who brought breakfast. She thanked him with a soft kiss and started eating, grateful that her husband knew what wouldn’t upset her stomach more. He sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her, letting her lean against him. “I should get up and clean here a little.” She sighed, feeling too comfortable to even think about what she was supposed to do.

“No, you don’t. I’ll take care of the house, and you’ll focus on growing this little human. You can catch up with the show you like.” He kissed the top of her head. “And before you’ll start to object, I am perfectly capable of doing it, and I know that you are not ill - just pregnant. But we are partners, and you already look like you’ll pass out, so let me do it and let you rest.” She looked up at him, and he saw her eyes were a little teary. She snuggled into his chest, sniffed and nodded with her head.

“Okay.” She felt him squeezing her a little. “How did I get the best husband in the world?”

“I’m just trying to be a man worthy of a woman like you.” She didn’t waste any one second when she kissed him deeply. He let out a groan, sliding his hand on her hip and squeezing it gently. “Mama, if you keep going like this, we won’t do anything today.” He mumbled into her lips, making her laugh.

“That wouldn’t be that bad.” She bit her lip, looking into his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure that you won’t say this tomorrow.” He quickly pecked her lips.

“I guess you’re right… Come back to me quickly, alright? I might feel lonely here.” She smiled seductively, and Jake couldn’t stop himself from kissing her shortly.

“As fast as I can.”

And true to his words, he took care of most housework, allowing her to take a nap and watch her show, only coming inside to check if she ate snacks and drank enough water. When he finished, he came and took care of his wife in every way she wanted. Jake Seresin could be a cocky naval aviator, but for his girl, he turned into the most caring sweetheart.

Author’s note: Thank you so much for reading! If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and motivate me to work.

I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

799 notes · View notes

the-doomed-witch · 1 year

Note

hey boo, can u make 1800's reader and married nat having secret affair but reader convinces nat to run away with her somewhere else where they can live and love peacefully, inspired by ivy and the lakes

MAGNIFICENTLY CURSED

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You question your need for running away with the woman you love passionately, but her dreamy desires do it for you anyway. // based on ivy by Taylor Swift; the lakes by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS+MEN DNI. set in the 1800s, infidelity, homophobia + closeting, allusions to smut not really described, nat is like a whole ass poet bro i will cry 😭

SEND ME REQUESTS BASED ON TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Author’s Note: hi anon, i hope this justifies your request <3 obviously this is emisue-dead poets society-anne with an e-elizabeth bennet coded bc i’m a raging lesbian with an obsession with the 1800s for no reason at all🤭

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION

— ✦ —

Stealing glances with Natasha was the glory of her. She was a distinguished woman, known to be married to one of the most revered men in town. The ladies at the lunch discussed stories of her well established marriage, but no one knew the truth except you, and Natasha.

Sometimes you would go to meet her, with the excuse of needing to talk with her clinquishly. Her husband was a fine fellow, a gentleman who’d welcome you to their warm domicile, and let you take your time alone with his wife.

On the days when your blood boiled with envy of his nauseating smile, you’d meet her in forbidden places, near rivers of estrangement, and away from the common folk.

She held no love for him, you weren’t oblivious like the neighbourhood women. What made you bitter was the way he was associated with her throughout the town. He was the one credited with your efforts of making her the happiest woman around.

Oh how you longed for Natasha to be known as your lady.

But it’s worth struggling for, when she touches your lips, when she kisses them, and when her hands entangle with yours. “My most beloved,” she addresses you every time before she dares to break the space between the two of you. You respond, “Yes, my lady.” before leaning in.

It’s been years of meeting Natasha in darkness and in delight, touching her as if speaking of poetry. Your hands find their place in the heat beneath her gown, leaving her to the euphoria of gushing. She does the same for you in return, sometimes sitting on her knees to have a peek of what her fingers feel.

You have a rendezvous in the privacy of her own house, while he’s patiently sitting on the porch, doing something like pretending to read a newspaper. She sighs loudly against your kiss, it’s almost romantical.

He knocks on the shut door, asking if everything was alright. You break your contact with her abruptly, and answer him with a loud, stern voice, “Yes, Natasha is trying a new corset I brought along with me. Nothing to worry about.” He walks away with not a single penny of care, unbeknownst to everything you could do only if his wife had her corset taken off.

“I sense something bizarre about you today, my love.” she remarks, pushing your back against the stone cold wall, opposite to which is sat the notorious husband. To think the two of you could be vulnerable within inches was a terrifying thought. “I don’t think standing here is a good idea..”

“What would he even do if he finds us out? He can burn this house all he wants, at least my death greets me with you in my arms.”

“Natasha…”

“Tell me what is troubling you, my Y/N. What is so tragical that I can’t take it away from you?”

Her poetic mouth never failed to leave you enraptured. “W- well, all I've thought of since the past nights is running away. I mean to take you along, but I’m troubled by all the presumed consequences.”

“You meaning to take me along is singularly the greatest thing I’ve heard. To be with my muse, in a place where all the poets went to die, is a privilege I'm blessed to have.”

“I don’t belong, and Natasha, neither do you, you understand it, and I know it. But going out into the wild, with no shelter to take? I’m worried to death.”

“Again, my beloved, at least death greets us with you in my arms. I don’t fear it.”

You entwine your finger in her fierce red hair, and pull her face close to yours till you can hear her breathe and feel her heart pound against your chest and tell her, “Your musings, God, they make me want to be with you all the time, alone. Your poetry is the sole reason I live, dearest.”

“You’re the sole reason my poetry lives. You’re my muse, Y/N.”

You push her against her vanity, with an attempt to taste her delicacy, this time not confining her sounds to your secrecy. You lift up your leg, to give Natasha a place for grinding slowly. The skirt of her apron is lifted, along with her pale yellow dress.

The door smashes open, with her husband walking in, “You’ve been alone for far too- What is going on here?!”

Natasha speaks in a fake pleading voice, “Sir, let me explain to you.” before she gives you a long kiss, and grabs your hand. She squeezes your palm, hinting you to follow her along.

His chin falls agape, the green nerves of around his wrist pop out, irefully.

“What monstrosity is this, Natasha? I thought you were a pristine lady, but evidently you’re a disgustful woman! You should be- Get away from her Y/N!” He comes forward to push you away, but she doesn’t let him finish, and runs out of the house with you.

You hold up your dress to make yourself a room to run with her through the fields. After fleeing for a while, you notice he has missed the trail. So she tugs your arm again, making you run till you reach the illustrious lake, till you’re out of breath.

She laughs as you hold her in an embrace, and screams towards the deserted forests and mountains on the other side of the lake, “I can feel the freedom in me. I can feel it in my blood!” Her voice echoes back at you.

You join her laughter, eyes filled with tears, and cry out, “I am in love with Natasha! I am a woman, and I wholeheartedly love another.” She pecks your lips repeatedly, till you can’t stop laughing and hold her blushing red cheeks away from yours, “We’ll find ourselves a home, we’ll find us a way to live. I promise you.”

You lace her gentle hands with yours. They’re cold with the breeze and the disquietude. You grasp her untamed heart, and she cleaves on to your pain.

#skye’s taylor swift themed drabbles #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #black widow x you #black widow x reader

257 notes · View notes

lonelychicago · 1 year

Text

seven-ish sentences sunday! 📜🎥

tagged by @prince-buck-diaz @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @panbuckley @wildlife4life <33

here's more from author!buck and actor!eddie au, plus another moodboard bc i cannot stop.

(also, if you wanna be tagged on this fic once i post, interact with this post)

"Can you read for Gabriel in Scene 23, where he's talking to officer Blake Scatorccio?" Chimney says, looking up from his notes. "Buck will read opposite to you."

"Yeah, okay." Eddie swallows thickly. In the first books, Gabriel and Blake only have a few scenes, but in the second book their relationship grows stronger.

Some fans even think the author might be building up to a romantic relationship, claiming it's a slow burn. Eddie isn't sure and he hasn't asked Buck, but just the idea of doing this scene with him makes his nerves set on fire.

He'll be acting out Buck's words, words the man took time and effort and that he created oh so carefully, so masterfully. Eddie will be telling them to him, looking him in the eye and thinking— what exactly?

"Eddie? Are you ready?" Buck raises an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, Ready."

Buck clears his throat and starts the scene.

"Gabe? What are you doing here?"

"I'm dropping all of the evidence I gathered with Pipe in these last few months." He sighs, feeling as defeated as Gabriel does in the scene. "I just— I can't do it anymore."

Buck frowns at him, just like he pictures Blake would be doing in the book. "What? You're just gonna give up?"

"I can't keep going like this! Chasing after some psycho, being haunted by my wife's ghost. I—" Eddie runs a hand through his hair and pulls back. "I need to think of my son, okay? I can't keep doing your job for you, Officer Scatorccio." He sneers. He evokes every feeling of grief and frustration he felt when Shannon first left him with no warning, except for a note. He brings up every feeling of insecurity and of not being good enough to the surface, every feeling of rage and fury that's been simmering under the surface for longer than Eddie is willing to admit, and he pours them all into Gabriel's character.

In the book and in the script, Blake gets impossibly closer to Gabriel, grabbing him by the arm and stopping him from walking away. In real life, Buck remains seated a few feet away from him.

Eddie tries not to be disappointed. This is an audition after all and Buck is just reading the lines to move Eddie through the scene, that's how it goes. It's just business.

"My hands are tied and you know it. The whole police department can't go after just one person, Gabe. You know that. We have too many cases and—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Chimney. The director held in a rare thrall, the tip of his glasses inserted between his full, dreamy lips, that ankle crossed over the opposite knee, jiggling, jiggling. He looks impressed, Eddie thinks. Maybe.

"And what?"

"I think you're close. I think you are stronger and smarter than any one of us— You're extraordinary, Gabriel Alvarez and I am in awe of you every single day. You can't just give up." Buck gazes up at him, a smile gracing his lips, a small and barely there thing that doesn't really match the scene but Eddie can't bring himself to mind.

"You are too good with words, Officer Scatorccio. But I don't know if I can trust them." Eddie looks down at the script, and then back up at Buck. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"Gabe, I—" And that's the end of the scene. Blake's partner interrupts them, claiming they need to go and Gabriel is left alone at the station. Confused and hopeless.

Eddie takes a deep breath, telling himself it's over and he gave the scene the best he had. And he thinks he did pretty well— He thinks he did amazing, losing himself in the scene and in Buck's eyes, and hope sizzles under his skin, strong and powerful.

"That was amazing, Eddie. You really seem to get the character." Chimney smiles at him, forcing him to look away from Buck. "It's really a beautiful thing to see."

"Thanks." Eddie fidgets with the script. He knows they won't make a decision right then and there, and certainly not in front of him, but something keeps him frozen in place.

His feet refuse to walk away.

Hope inside of him moves and weaves through his system like a hurricane, not wanting to leave.

"You really do understand Gabriel, Eddie." Buck speaks. "That was— Well, I guess Blake Scatorccio said it. Extraordinary." Buck says softly, maybe too soft for what the moment calls. "Thank you."

Thank God it's dark in the rear of the studio. No one can see the tomato-colored tidal wave surging up Eddie's neck.

"Again, thanks so much for the opportunity." Eddie says, feeling his lips dry up. "I, uh— Yeah. Thanks." He awkwardly waves and turns away, hope trailing behind him like a neon sign showing how much he needs, how much he wants this. He wonders if they can see it. He wonders if they care.

He thinks Buck might.

tagging (no pressure): @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @buddierights @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @bucktalias @maygrantgf @messyhairdiaz @ebdaydreamer @bekkachaos @cowboy-buddie @911onabc @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @elvensorceress @transbuck @transboybuckley @buckitup @prettyboybuckley @starlingbite

#seven sentence sunday #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #author buck actor eddie au #911 fic #911 wip #my wips #911 abc #911 on abc #my writing #fic: we are a fresh page on the desk (filling in the blanks as we go)

176 notes · View notes

chronicallyonlinewriter · 30 days

Text

You Make Loving Fun

[As Long as You Follow] [People Still Listen to Fleetwood Mac in the Apocalypse]

Warnings: +18, MDNI, smut, oral sex, unprotected PIV. References to sexual violence (predates this fic). Age gap (Joel is 62, OC is in her mid-forties), post-outbreak! Joel, who is soft AF and loves his wife.

Words: 9,178

Summary: “Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” she murmured. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and when he did he could almost feel her worries dissipating with his smile, replaced by a soft purr of contentment that resonated through him. Sunlight sculpted soft shadows across her face, bathing her skin in a honeyed glow and tangling in her hair as it splayed across her pillow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” As her breath hitched in a soft sigh, he stretched himself long just so he could nip at the crook of her neck. He loved the way her body responded to him, how she coiled into him like a vine seeking the sun; loved the way her eyes fluttered closed at his touch, her head tilted back in invitation. “Was just warmin’ you up.”

Previous Works:

For Your Love

Forever

This fic contains (non-explicit) art made specifically for this story - enjoy!

Hi, all. Once again, I am just posting some of my spicier scenes from As Long as You Follow to Tumblr - though, again, I don't think you necessarily need to read the entire fic to understand the context, if you're just here for the smut. I may open myself up for requests in a bit, as I wrap up that story as a whole - because while I enjoy writing scenes like this, it's also a challenge, and I think I need to encourage myself to practice a little more. Enjoy!

It was an incredibly strange experience to wake up in Galveston.

It almost reminded her of Jackson; of those dreamy, early days where Joel was still a new presence next to her in bed. Sunlight speared through her eyelids, the room swirling into focus when she opened her eyes and blinked against the brightness. Disorienting, just like then, this strange mix of unfamiliar comfort and the absence of threat, a voice in the back of her head reminding her through her confusion that there was no need for the urgency that pulsed through her, even when her hand instinctively slid under her pillow, fingers searching for the handle of her sheathed knife – her father's knife.

(She'd kept a knife under her pillow in those early days, too, unconvinced this newfound happiness was real, this fluke of finding a place in the world where she could fall asleep and be guaranteed to wake in the morning – no bombs, no overreaching government, no creepy neighbors lurking on the fire escape outside. And Joel had found it, once, when they were in a compromising position, his hand sliding under her pillow when he’d tried to brace himself and slipped. She still remembered his confused frown when he held up that pocketknife, the way his expression quickly shifted to an infuriating sort of pity – but she also remembered the way he calmly set it on the nightstand, the way he held her face in his hands and told her, ‘Nobody’s gonna hurt you, here,’ the way he then kissed her – the way she thought she might actually believe him.)

She’d spent so much of her life primed for danger that her body had twisted itself into a coiled spring, wound so tight that there were days where she thought she might shatter from the pressure of it. Even within this clean and bright and safe apartment she couldn’t quite relax, a nervous sort of energy always humming beneath her skin. There was a routine that she forced herself to follow, something that made everything a little less overwhelming: she’d allow the first tendrils of dawn to pull her from sleep, and before full consciousness had even fully arrived her hand would slide under her pillow, searching blindly for the cool heft of the blade’s wooden and steel handle. Twenty breaths, each one counted in her head, would anchor her to the bed, and only then would she let go of the knife and instead seek out her husband.

This part, at least, was easy. She usually woke before him, close enough to reach out a hand and touch him, to feel the steady rhythm of his breath. The sheets rustled as she stretched, and with a slow deliberateness she’d roll toward him, her body a question mark curled against his back, her arms struggling to fully envelop him. She’d nuzzle her face into his neck, whisper his name, feel his rumble of sleepy protest against her own skin – and he’d try, bless him, to maintain the facade of slumber, but he was always given away by the twitch of his mouth. The act never held; this was, after all, his favorite type of alarm clock. Still, he was difficult to fully rouse – so she’d bite him instead, a playful nip, a quick pinch of her teeth on his neck, his shoulder, anywhere that elicited a reaction – and that always jolted him awake and wide-eyed.

“You’re a menace,” was quickly becoming a familiar morning greeting, grogginess still clinging to the edges of his words, and so was her response:

“You love it, though.”

And she knew he did, the hand he reached back to squeeze at her thigh so gentle and full of affection. Often they’d just stay there a little bit longer, cocooned together beneath the sun-drenched sheets, a temporary reprieve from the soundtrack of life creeping in: the ocean below them, the hum of the fan above them, Ellie’s voice (always a touch too enthusiastic for such an early hour) slicing through the apartment as she chatted with someone (usually Perry). And maybe it was too often that this bittersweet pang would unfold in her chest, this craving for these little moments to be more constant – because it had taken a lifetime, or at least what felt like one, to find this sort of contentment, this love that had bloomed defiantly like a wildflower in the cracks of the pavement – and even now that she had it, and the room to enjoy it, she could feel that spring tightening again, threatening to snap her in half.

There was a part of him that didn’t mind these quiet evenings, when they happened. Much like his walks with Ellie, it was nice to spend some time alone with Benny – no interruptions, a chance to connect, to eat dinner together and sometimes share in a small amount of wine, to walk together around the block or watch the sky turn colors over the ocean, to curl up on the couch together and watch a movie. It was so close to feeling like home; her comforting weight pressed against his shoulder and chest, warm and welcoming; the way she sometimes dozed off before the movie even finished, and he just let her sleep because he liked the feeling of her leaning against him, his arm around her shoulders, her heart beating a steady rhythm against his ribs.

Sometimes these evenings were a little different. Sometimes wine flowed a little more generously (for her) while familiar music played from Alexei’s CD player. He danced with her now whenever she asked him to, without protest, because he didn’t have it left in him to ever again deny her anything that he had the power to give. She was at her happiest when he twirled her slowly around the living room, and there was something nostalgic about these steps – something familiar that pulsed under his skin when she laughed as he lifted her arm and carefully spun her, something so free about how she always danced barefoot, her hair swaying back and forth against her back, something special about the way she always kissed him first, because even when he led their steps, she led everything else –

– something exciting about the afternoon where Ellie left a little earlier than usual, sunlight still spearing through the tall living room windows while Lindsey Buckingham crooned through the stereo speakers and Benny twirled through the motes of dust lazily, a glass of wine in one hand, her hair glittering in the light. She and Ellie had gone to the beach earlier in the day when he’d been occupied with fixing the balcony door, and she’d donned another donated dress for the occasion; a cascade of white with splashes of emerald leaves and blossoms, the skirt loose and flowing, and when she danced, a bittersweet thought struck Joel: that this was probably the closest he would ever get to seeing her in anything that even remotely resembled a wedding gown.

(Art by @ayeleye.)

Sunburn kissed her shoulders with a rosy glow, a blush mirroring the flush on her cheeks, and when she beckoned for him to join her, curling two fingers in and out as she swayed, he did so with no hesitation, drawn to her like a moth to a flame – though he took her hand, first, spun her around slowly, and then wrapped her up against him from behind, all the better to trail his lips down her neck and over her shoulder, leaving fleeting white marks against her heated and red skin.

(Art by @miranhas-art.)

And there was just something about this that felt different even when it was achingly familiar; there was a rawness to it, an uninhibited surrender in the way she tilted her head back with a longing sigh, finding rest against his shoulder, the way she tipped the wine to her lips and drank long sips, then held it up so he could do the same.

“Better catch up, cowboy,” she teased him, and it was as though something inside of him snapped. The wine was so sweet against his lips, but it was nothing compared to her skin. He drained the glass in a single, impatient gulp, then plucked it from her fingers and set it on the desk behind him without even looking, his focus only on her. Everything happened in flashes; she was arching against him as his fingers tugged at her skirt, drawing the fabric over her thighs – she was facing him, kissing him, her hands threading through his hair – the world tilted, he was falling, and she was beneath him on the couch – she tasted like wine and smelled like the ocean and she was so soft against his edges, so loose and limber, so eager for every bit of his touch, moaning into his mouth when his hand slid under her dress and edged itself between her legs –

It ended, because of course it did, the moment shattering like glass – because there was a thump in the hallway that sounded suspiciously like a heavy, booted step, and a key scraped in the front door’s lock. A desperate scramble ensued, a mad dash to right themselves, to untangle their limbs. Benny hastily pulled down her skirt and Joel fumbled with his belt buckle – and thankfully it wasn’t Ellie that walked through the door, but it was a short-lived sort of relief, because Amos and Alexei both stopped dead in their tracks when they caught sight of the pair. To be fair, Joel knew they weren’t fooling anyone, even with the distance they’d hastily put between themselves. There was a flush creeping up the back of his neck; he had to assume his face was as red as Benny’s, her breath ragged and flustered as she attempted to comb her fingers through her mussed hair.

For just a moment, there was silence. And then Amos’ voice boomed through the apartment: “On the couch?” he demanded, at the same time Alexei jabbed an accusing finger and scorned, “You heathens!”

Benny snatched an oversized throw pillow and pulled it into her lap before folding over it, burying her face in the fabric as a strangled groan escaped her throat. Joel, his cheeks burning, scrubbed a hand across his face, massaging his skin roughly while wishing that the roaring pulse of blood pounding in his ears would drown out their mocking voices.

“ – and in front of the cat?”

“Absolute monsters –”

Perry didn’t seem all that offended, currently curled up in his usual place atop the other end of the couch, where the backing cushion sported a permanent divot on top because it was his preferred sunning spot. Alexei gathered the feline up in his arms anyway, shaking his head one final time before he carried him out of the room and down the hallway, mumbling something that Joel didn’t quite catch, while Amos lingered for a beat, staring them down with a glare that threatened to crack into a bristly grin. “I’m not mad,” he said finally, backing away slowly, “I’m just disappointed –” And then he had to duck when Benny groaned again and threw the pillow at his head, his barking laughter echoing down the hallway.

“Oh my god.” Benny stood up the moment he was gone, shaking her hands out in front of her chest. “I’m…going to hide in our room. And maybe throw myself off of the balcony. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

She disappeared, skirt swishing around the corner, leaving him alone and embarrassed and frustrated on the living room couch. Joel gulped in a few deep breaths, willing his thunderous heart and traitorous body to cooperate with one another, to allow him to stand up, and when he finally did he found that he couldn’t make himself follow her; there was no appeal to walk down that same hallway, to risk running into those two infuriating men again. He busied himself with pointless tasks, instead, because at least when his hands were occupied he didn’t have to really think about what just happened (and what didn’t happen, wasn’t currently happening). He snagged the wine glass from the desk, picked up the pillow from the floor and tossed it onto the couch (though if the patio door had been open, it would have been tempting to just throw it off the balcony as petty revenge) and silenced the radio right before Stevie Nicks could begin to explain to him that she had never been a blue, calm sea (and boy, could Joel relate).

He was breathing a little easier by the time the glass was rinsed and wiped dry, and deposited into the wire rack, but still he sighed, leaning over the edge of the counter with his shoulders hunched and wondering why, when they were barely ever there, practically ghosts in their own home, both Alexei and Amos had to pick that moment to walk through the door –

He heard scuffling coming from the hallway; sounds of laughter that sent a fresh wave of irritation crashing over him. He decided not to be there when they eventually emerged; with a determined stride he slipped down the hallway and past their bedroom door, and to his own, which was thankfully unlocked. He’d just managed to close the door behind him when he heard them again, their voices mixing together and echoing against the walls as they called out, feet thumping down the hallway.

“ – won’t be back for a while – enjoy your privacy – ”

“ – goddamn house is full of deviants –”

The front door slammed a thunderous goodbye, as though making a point. “Christ,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, because the bedroom was otherwise empty. Benny’s shawl was draped over the corner of the dresser. He ran his hand over some of the hanging tassels as he walked past it, immediately knew that his hand now smelled like lilac without even having to check, and that alone was enough to return a small smile to his face as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms folded across his chest. Benny met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, head tilted to the side as her fingers combed through the last few tangles in her hair, a touch of lingering fluster coloring her cheeks along with her sunburn.

“One time,” she sighed, “in high school, I got caught in the back of Owen Grant’s car by my dad, of all people, and I thought I might actually die of embarrassment. This…” She bit her lip, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. “Yeah. This was worse, somehow, and I was fully-clothed this time.”

Joel mulled this over, chewing on his tongue thoughtfully. “Owen Grant, huh?”

She rolled her eyes at him in the mirror. “Don’t start.” But she was still smiling at him while her fingers danced through her curls, teasing out the knots. “Sorry,” she said finally, her voice softer. “Those two…kind of ruined a moment, didn’t they?”

“S’alright. Hard to be mad at ‘em. Prolly not the most polite thing we coulda been doin’ on their couch." Her snort of laughter was a welcome sound that he was pleased to have teased out of her. “Doesn’t…gotta be ruined, though.”

She didn’t reply for what felt like a long time, her gaze dipping down to her hands and the strands of gold weaving silently between her knuckles. He steeled himself, accepting the quiet – because he had no other choice. Because he wasn’t allowed to be the one to push anymore; couldn’t be, a privilege that was stripped away from him the day she went on patrol to the dam and then didn’t come back to him. And that was…difficult to contend with at the best of times, but especially now, when he’d just gotten a taste of everything he’d ever wanted from her – the searing pressure of her skin against his, those intoxicating sounds he’d drawn from her lips – and all he could think about was how much he wanted more of it, how lucky he would be get another chance at it.

“Maybe not,” she said finally, and a shiver ran down his spine. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the way she said them; her gaze, reflected back at him, crackled with an intensity that he couldn’t quite decipher. Yet when she again beckoned to him with two fingers he immediately went to her, body moving automatically to sweep her up from behind, arms wrapped tightly around her as he pressed the side of his face against hers. He watched as her hand began a slow exploration, sliding up his arm – and he closed his eyes when her fingertips drifted across his nose, skimming delicately across his healing scars. They still itched, sometimes, and pulled uncomfortably at the edges of his skin, especially after he’d been in the sun. He usually tried not to think about them, avoided looking at them in the mirror, needing no daily reminders of Waco when his dreams were already so haunted by it.

He countered the rising dread settling in his gut by tipping his head to the side, burying his nose against her hair and inhaling deeply. A wave of scents washed over him; the sharpness of her lilac soap, the brine of salt from the ocean, sweat and something else, a deeper note that resonated purely as Benny filled his nostrils, comforting enough that he tightened his hold on her almost subconsciously. “Got the place to ourselves again,” he mumbled against the strands, and he felt her shift against him, the press of her warmth more pronounced.

“Do we?”

“We do.” He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze in the mirror. It was a gamble, but his fingers dipped down, skimming against her thighs. He brushed his fingers against the softness of her dress, then gathered some of the material between his fingers. “Like you in this dress.” His voice rumbled from his chest, hips pressing against her through the flimsy fabric. His fingers continued to tug at the floral print, teasing the hemline up her thighs, fingertips dragging along her pale skin. “Don’t think I told you that, yet. Looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” she breathed, pushing her hips insistently against his and rolling her shoulders against his chest, the movement sending a delicious jolt through him. Her head tilted to the side, and there was something playful in her expression, a challenge he was eager to meet. He bared his teeth, making her giggle, and snagged the strap of her dress in his mouth.

"Mmhmm," he affirmed, his voice a little smothered by the fabric. With a slow, almost reluctant release, he let the strap drift down her arm like a fallen petal. He dipped his head, seeking the sweet haven of her neck, the delicate curve that led to her shoulder. Every word he murmured was a brand – gentle at first, then a touch sharper, each one punctuated a tender graze of teeth as she arched against him. Her neck erupted in goosebumps, each whisper of pressure against her skin eliciting a soft, sweet gasp from her throat. "I do. Like you even better out of it, though."

“Oh my goooooddd...” The laughter that bubbled up from her lungs was pure enchantment, filling him with warmth – and he knew it was ridiculous, this cheesy line, a relic from simpler times, but he also knew it was the key to unlocking her laughter. He wanted to hear her laughter vibrate against him – needed that; needed her loose and pliant and unguarded and happy, full of giggles and rolling her eyes at his absurdity, just like those early days when the scent of her in his sheets was still a novelty and he’d say just about anything to her as long as those beautiful lips would spread themselves into a smile for him.

‘Gonna have to find myself a new heart’ he told her once, not long after she’d officially moved in. He could still picture her stretched out along the bed, draped in one of his shirts and nothing else, giving him a rather skeptical look as she asked him ‘Why?’ ‘Cause,’ he answered, as though it should have been obvious, ‘you stole mine,’ and she laughed with such conviction, doubling over with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, and he’d grinned and thought to himself that Will Livingston himself couldn't have done better.

There had been something almost frantic about their sex in those days; a whirlwind of frenzied discovery, a need to taste and feel and enjoy and fuck, delicous in its urgency, exciting. It changed, of course, because time was a skilled sculptor, reshaping their connection until familiarity and love birthed a slower dance – something a little more relaxed, more deliberate, something to take their time with, laughter mingling between moans. He missed that; craved that, the ease that had once graced their intimacy. She tried, in the years since the dam – she tried so hard, a warrior fighting against the tide of their shifting dynamic, but they’d never truly managed to capture the spark of what had first caused them to ignite.

And perhaps it was just wishful thinking on his part, but something just felt different now, in this very moment; that they might be different, changed by everything that had happened to them since they left Jackson. He was willing to take the chance, anyway.

“Sweetness...” He waited for her laughter to subside, her dress settling back down her legs with a sigh. His hands, large and firm, climbed her frail arms instead, and despite her smile he felt the shiver that cascaded down her back. She reassembled her composure while he watched, and when she met his eyes again in the mirror he leaned down, a single soft kiss brushing the crown of her head. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper against her ear. “I want you.” He tightened his hold on her, a possessive need echoing in his voice. “Need you, darlin’. Can I…?”

And immediately, her expression shifted into the one that always tied him in knots – because he couldn’t stand it; couldn’t stand the surprise on her face, the way her eyes widened whenever he openly pined for her, the silent query: Who – me? Really? As if she wasn’t beautiful and strong and fierce and desirable and too good for him all wrapped up in one smartass package that left him perpetually yearning for more. As if he hadn’t spent his first year in Jackson resigned to always being alone late at night, convinced that chapter of his life was closed, a casualty of age and circumstance, and being fine with that until she so suddenly exploded into existence and changed everything – until she turned all the parts in his life that were still monochrome into technicolor, filling his house with flowers and music and his heart so full of affection that sometimes he was astonished there was still enough room for it beneath his ribs.

“I…” For a moment she just stood there, swaying slightly against him, a little stunned. But her voice, when it finally arrived again in her throat, was clear: “I want you.”

Something broke, that just moments before had been so solid – a tension that had been building inside of Joel, fighting against his need for patience, a little voice in the back of his head that was telling him over and over again ‘don’t fuck this up’ that shattered into a million pieces the second he saw longing in her eyes. It was as though all rational thought was gone and he was left to move only on instinct, colliding with her, fingers and lips searching out every part of her skin, desperate to devour her, filled with the need to touch and feel and taste and press and god, was it ever amazing when she kissed him back, when she spun around just to throw her arms around his neck and practically jump on him, when she pulled him to the sink and forced his hands to her hips, urging him to lift her up on its polished surface amongst all of their bathroom clutter.

With every move she was fluid, precise, her body responding to his every touch with an electric hunger. He stepped between her legs and she instinctively hiked up the hem of her dress, the fabric gathering and bunching down either side of her thighs. He kissed her as her fingers began that familiar fumbling dance at his belt buckle – but it was a sure hand that stopped her, gently clasping her wrists and tugging her away even as she groaned in annoyance.

“Not yet,” he told her, and he reclaimed her lips with his own, silencing any potential protest. And it worked; her resistance melted against him, her hands raising just so they could tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Their bodies swayed in sync, her hips reflexively pressed against his while his hands traced along the contours of her thighs, pausing only briefly at the raised ridge of her scar – just long enough to squeeze it with far more gentleness than he’d shown any other part of her, drawing a small whine from her throat. He chuckled, and in one smooth movement he slithered his fingers along the waistband of her simple, violet-colored panties, coaxing them down her hips one small tug at a time – and she understood, lifting her hips in silent consent and crossing her ankles together in front of him, nudging him away just long enough for him to shimmy the fabric down her legs and toss them to the tiled floor.

“Don’t need these,” he said simply, settling back between her legs. She let out a soft, eager whimper, hinging her knees around his waist, urging him closer and whispering something against his bad ear that he didn’t quite catch, but seemed to be fervent agreement. His fingers found her already slick and inviting when he slipped a hand between her thighs – and she moaned into his mouth when he kissed her again, tracing circles against her already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Don’t wanna just touch you,” he murmured, and he felt her shudder against him, felt her heels dig into his back, “wanna taste you – can I? God, darlin’, please –” and he heard her whisper against his lips, yes – yes –

He almost couldn’t believe his luck; her eagerness, her lack of hesitation, and so it was with a sudden burst of energy that his hand momentarily abandoned the tender haven between her legs, her gasp of surprise nearly drowned out amidst the clatter of various items tumbling to the floor – their toothbrushes, the soap dish that held his scentless soap, his razor. He didn’t care, hooking his arms under her knees and dragging her forward as he hunched over, his awareness of his surroundings narrowing to the urgent need to taste her, diving between her thighs with unrestrained hunger.

His tongue traced a reckless path, trailing a wide and sloppy stripe through her folds, senses ablaze with her essence, that same little voice in the back of his head urging him on, telling him more. The confines of his jeans suddenly suffocating, constrictive against his arousal; he worked at his belt with one fumbling hand even as he savored every nuance of flavor on his tongue – the saltiness of it, the sweet tang that he hadn’t tasted in years, igniting something so primal it eclipsed even the need for air in his lungs –

“Oh my god –” She let out a sharp cry that echoed against the tiles, her fingers winding through his hair with a grip that bordered on painful (and he savored in that, too). He tightened his hand around her thigh, increasing the pressure of his tongue, and she moaned his name like a prayer, her hips grinding against him desperately. “Joel –”

“You want me to stop?” He withdrew only for as long as it took him to mumble the words and then bite lightly at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, his mustache tickling her skin. She yelped, then shrieked with laughter when he did it again, tugging at his hair hard enough to finally make him wince.

“Don’t you dare –”

With a low groan of relief, he finally managed to free himself from the constraints of his jeans, all the better to wrap both arms around her legs and draw her flush against his mouth – and it didn’t take long for those breathy whimpers to evolve into full-throated moans, for the rocking of her hips to become complimentary to his own rhythm. He buried his nose in her soft curls, tongue swirling, delving deeper – and it’s goddamn magic, he thinks, her stomach so taut with strain as one of his hands drifted from her thigh to edge across her navel, the arch of her abdomen rippling beneath his fingertips; how needy the movement is when she grabbed his fingers and pulled them up, squeezing them tight against her chest, seeking the friction of his calloused skin against the delicate fabric covering her breasts.

Her writhing form became his muse, inspiring each stroke of his tongue, each press of his fingers against her gleaming flesh. And she responded so instinctively, as though they’d never been out of practice, shaping herself to fit his touch like clay to his sculpting hands – and all he could think about was how much he loved this, the way she squirmed under his tongue, his hands, using her body freely with him, so brazen as she chased her own satisfaction –

– and she found it quickly, her climax hitting her hard and fast, her thighs clenched around his ears, her moans sharp, head thrown back with the crown of her hair pressed against the mirror. Undeterred, he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down until she began tugging on his hair in a different way; as a warning, her heel knocking against his shoulder as she struggled to get out the words, “Joel – fuck – stop,” her laughter strained and breathless.

His mouth kept moving, lips slick with her arousal peppering her inner thighs with kisses, traveling up her body as he carefully straightened his spine (mindful of his aching back) until his torso was pressed against hers and she was reaching for him, enveloping him. It made him want to dissolve into his own pleasure with how anxious she was to taste herself on his lips, panting into his mouth, arching into him – it would have been so easy to slide himself within her; he was already poised to, sprung from his layers of clothing, his tip slotted against her swollen entrance –

“C’mere, darlin’.” With a low grunt, he pulled her close, securing her lithe frame against his torso, his pride ignoring the rather indignant sound she made as he lifted her off the edge of the sink, pulling her up, up – but she trusted him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. It was a slow spin and an even slower shuffle as he carried her out of the bathroom. He couldn't quite see where they were going, focused solely on not losing balance, but soon they were leaving the cool dimness of the bathroom and walking into the bedroom’s sunshine, the light that seeped in through the uncovered patio door warm against their skin.

"Your back—" she insisted against his lips, but he stilled her concern with another kiss, one that lingered until his knee bumped against the foot of the bed. Abandoning any semblance of elegance, he simply tossed her atop the quilt, where she landed and bounced across the mattress with another yelp.

“Smooth,” she laughed, propping herself up with one arm. Sweeping her tousled hair out of her face with the other, she paused to study him. He loomed over her, his tall frame casting a shadow on the bed as he lowered his palms to the quilt, caging her in, unable to help his sheepish grin. She held his gaze for only a second before her eyes flickered back down to his unzipped jeans, his belt hanging loose, boxers haphazardly shoved halfway down his thighs. She arched an eyebrow at him, biting her lip, but her voice was firm when she ordered him: “Pants off. All the way.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed. But he didn’t move immediately. He gave himself a moment to catch his breath, to let his eyes drift over her as she lay in front of him, flushed and glistening, ribs expanding wide with every labored inhale, skin shimmering with a dewy sheen. The skirt of her dress was still pushed up over her thighs in a way that was almost deliciously obscene, and it struck him then – not for the first time – that it was a minor miracle how his life, after seemingly ending so many years ago, could have still led him to this very moment; that this woman bathed in sunlight in front of him had managed to find him at the edge of the world and make him feel lucky. “Gotta do somethin’ real quick, first, though.”

It was so much easier, the second time. Easy, the way he hooked his arms under her bare knees and dragged her toward him. Simple, the way she laughed and squealed and then groaned under the pressure of his tongue, her hand clamped over his wrist as it gripped her hip, tugging at his watch. Effortless, the way she unraveled against him, shuddering and swearing and laughing in short bursts, pushing him away from her overly-sensitive core with languid hands until finally, he relented.

With a grunt, he kicked off his scuffed boots and shed his jeans and boxers, even his t-shirt, desperate to be as close to her as possible, for there to be as little of a barrier between them even if it was just a layer of fabric. And she welcomed him as he crawled between her trembling legs, working his way up to her, his teeth, teasing rather than devouring, nipping and pulling at her flesh, each bite drawing a hiss from her panting mouth. His fingers climbed the ladder of her ribs, finding the perfect slots in the rise and fall of each bone, his other palm tracing the shallow valley between her breasts.

The years had etched every inch of her skin into his memory, and he felt now that there was no part of her remaining that was undiscovered, no territory of her skin that he didn’t feel as though he knew at least as well as his own, but he still explored her now as though he’d never been fortunate enough to touch her before today, trying to unearth all of her; every scar and every dimple, the whisper of goosebumps on her thighs, the jut of her hips, the map of veins across her spindly wrists.

With a soft groan he heaved himself up, pressing his full weight against her torso. For a moment he simply held her, his cheek pressed against the hard plane of her sternum. Breath for breath, they matched each other's rhythm, her heart beating a frantic song against his ear.

Her hands cradled his scalp, fingers running through his silvering curls. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of it, letting the gentle pressure seep into his skull. “Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” she murmured. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and when he did he could almost feel her worries dissipating with his smile, replaced by a soft purr of contentment that resonated through him. Sunlight sculpted soft shadows across her face, bathing her skin in a honeyed glow and tangling in her hair as it splayed across her pillow.

"Don't stop," she breathed, her fingers tugging at his hair. He didn’t stop – he kissed every part of her that he could, every part of her that he could reach while she writhed under his touch. By the time their lips finally met again, there was a warmth curling into his stomach, an impatience in his movements –

He had to force himself to pause, to take a breath, tucking his face against the dampness of her neck. He could already feel it, this primal need to lose control, to bury himself deep within her – she was already using his length as it remained tucked between them, rocking her hips back and forth as it slid between the slickness of her folds, whimpering into his ear about how good he felt, how good he was, how much she’d missed this, how much she needed him –

He could have taken her right then, so easily; could have slid himself into her warmth and fucked her until she’d milked every last drop from him – and he would have loved that, would have loved transporting them both back to a time where sex was uncomplicated and fun, back before she’d earned so many of her scars. But he wanted more from her than that - wanted more for her – and so he slowed himself. He pressed into her as though the weight of him alone would be enough to protect her, cupping her jaw with a calloused hand, tracing the familiar curve with his thumb, content for the moment to just enjoy the heaviness of his body slotted against hers, the sensation of her ribs pulsing against him with every breath. Her hips settled, confusion and concern warring in her gaze.

"Joel –"

"Darlin'." His head dipped low, every word spoken between the press of his lips against her collarbones, the slope of her shoulder. "You still with me?"

"Yes," she whimpered. His free hand was clenched into the sheets next to her shoulder; she arched her arm and grasped it with her hand, fingers intertwining with his, holding tight. "Joel – please –"

"Love you so goddamn much,” he murmured, his lips finding their way back to her neck, joined by his teeth; and he wasn’t gentle, tiny galaxies of violet blooming against her skin under the warmth of his breath. His bites were slow, deliberate, goosebumps following in their wake, a beautiful gasp elicited by each one. "So goddamn much. And I want you to feel good – only good. You feel good?"

“Yes,” she insisted. He shook his head, licking a stripe all the way up her neck until it curved around her ear, his tongue tracing the delicate rim of it while she shuddered beneath him. It wasn’t enough for him, this shaky affirmation – no matter how much he ached for her walls clenched around him, he couldn’t commit himself to what came next until he knew, truly knew that she was ready for him, eager and willing. He met her gaze again, his hand slipping from hers just so they could both cup her blushing face.

"Tell me, darlin'," he whispered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Her lips were soft, but insistent when they crushed themselves against his. It was as though she was trying to slide under his skin; there wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t moving urgently against him, demanding his attention. Her long, trembling legs wrapped around his waist like clinging vines, her nails digging into his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He couldn't escape the feeling of her everywhere, this urgency that pulled at him until he had no choice but to surrender, because he lost track of time, lost track of himself in the dizziness that came with being pressed against her, her voice urging him on as she purred in his ear, I want you – I need you – please – please –

And it felt like salvation when slotted himself within her, inch by inch – he was rewarded for this, her head tilting back while a small cry of relief fluttered from her lips, her hips rolling against his until he’d worked his way into her fully, stretching her walls around him. His groans mingled with hers as he buried his face against her neck, taking in the heady combination of her shampoo and sweat, and the salty tang of the sea clinging to her wavy strands. In this moment they both surrendered to stillness. Every beat of her heart thrummed against his skin, filling him with a sense of completeness that he hadn’t quite expected, gratitude for her blooming in his chest.

“Baby.” Joel retreated his hips, drawing himself out just an inch or two and then rutting back in; a slow, lingering stroke. He wanted to take his time with her, to draw out as much pleasure for both of them as he could, but this was beginning to feel impossible. His resolve was already beginning to weaken, a more primal urge surging forward, a need to press on and take what he could, to claim her – but he reminded himself that he couldn't. He was meant only to give to her right now, not to take – her vulnerability a fragile thing that he could easily crush if he wasn't careful with it. “Feel so damn good. M’embarrassed – might not last very long.”

“Oh.” Her hand drifted away from his back, raking through his hair, holding tight with his curls clenched between her fingers. Her voice was light, the words floating out along her fluttery breaths. “Well, then. I guess you’d better make it count.” She rolled her hips again, sliding herself along his length, fucking herself with his body before he’d even dared to move. It was as though she ignited a fire in his gut – he met her move for move now, his strokes slow, deliberate, causing her to arch her neck and moan with each connection of their bodies, every sound she made vibrating against his lips as he kissed and nipped at her blemished skin.

“Faster,” she pleaded. His lips curved into a chuckle against the softness of her neck, his fingertips trailing lightly along the base of her skull.

“Sweetness,” he groaned, “if I go any faster, it’s gonna be over.” He could feel her breath quicken in response, something like a desperate whine streaming out of her throat as her fingers gripped even more tightly in his hair – and damn if that didn’t immediately drive him a little over the edge. He stilled his hips, tucking his face against her damp, warm skin, fighting back a sigh of impatience aimed at how his own body was currently trying to embarrass him,

She huffed slightly when he didn’t immediately acquiesce, winding her legs around him even more tightly and moving again. She set the pace this time, and he let her, following the rocking of her body as she clung to him, pleasure pooling in his stomach. She was so warm, alight in the waning sun, every bit of exposed skin gleaming with sweat, slippery against him with every movement. “Fuck,” he panted, his hand shooting out to steady himself against the headboard, because he couldn’t stop himself now, snapping his hips against hers, pumping deeper inside of her with every thrust, chasing his own satisfaction –

“Wait – stop –”

She was trying to kill him, he decided; had to be, because it was torture, this request. But he froze almost immediately, propping himself on his elbows so he could get a better look at her face (though he didn’t know what he’d do if he saw those familiar tears or that look of panic, if he realized she wasn’t as ready for all of this as he’d thought she was, if he’d managed to hurt her, even unintentionally, if, if...), because he was certain she wouldn’t purposefully inflict this – this delicious, agonizing torment – unless something was wrong –

Instead, it was a rather bashful expression that met his gaze; her face flushed and sparkling, biting her lip just to keep her smile somewhat in-check. “I…” Out of breath, she tilted her head back, inhaled deeply; he immediately kissed her neck, relief flooding him when she huffed out a laugh.

“You okay?” he asked her softly, his voice muffled against her skin as his lips traveled up, pressed against her jaw, her cheek. “Baby –”

“Yeah.” It came out with a puff of air, as though she’d been holding the word in her chest for too long. “Yeah – I just –” Her smile shifted, suddenly shy. “Can I get on top?”

His only response, the most natural one his heart could muster, was to kiss her – again, and again, until his lungs burned and the world tilted on its axis, and he didn’t care because she was still laughing, still moving with him, fitting him like she was made for him, like she’d been molded for him from the very beginning and then dropped on this earth just to find him. He was drowning in the scent of her hair, the sunlight glinting off her damp skin, the delicious friction where their bodies met –

– but then she was pushing him away, both hands firm against his chest, and he was letting her, because she was so insistent in her movements, one of her legs forcing him to roll over until he was on his back, her voice filling the space between them, begging, “please – let me – just let me make you feel good –” and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her no –

She clambered on top of him, straddling him with her skirt bunched up around her waist, spilling over his sides. She claimed him fully, immediately, submerging every inch of him within her warmth – and she was a vision as she began to ride him, her hips rolling and cresting like a wave clad in white and green flowers, face tilted to the ceiling, eyes closed, hair a glittering waterfall of molten gold bouncing against her back.

He thought nothing could have surprised him less than this, this fierce need for control, a need to reciprocate – but it wasn’t dominance, this time; it was just a desperate need to balance the scales, to give as good as she got, to remind him that he was the recipient of an affection so profound that it demanded a tangible exchange. He reveled in being the vessel for this outpouring, the one chosen to hold this fragile thing that existed between them – him, of all people, a man who certainly didn’t deserve it, but was lucky enough to have it anyway. So he held onto her hips with hands that done terrible things but only knew how to be kind to her, keeping her steady until he felt her shudder again, knew that she was coming loose on top of him, her muscles tensing, her groans escaping her throat as sharp bursts –

He savored every moment of her climax, letting her ride the waves of pleasure for as long as she needed. He watched her core move in time with his, her eyes slammed shut, and when she began to falter, her arms slack against the headboard and her hips faltering in their rhythm, only then did he join her in this bliss – and he was glad for her help with that, for the subtle guidance of her hips even when she crumpled against him, her hair hanging in his face so that all he could see was strands of gold; the way she let him take over those last few strokes, driving into her unburdened by gentleness, and the way that, at the last moment, she swept her hair away just so she could kiss him, so he could see her face and feel her hot breath on his skin while he fell apart, that knot in his stomach unraveling.

And this was magic, he thought; the way each thrust painted her insides with his release, his unwillingness to stop until he had nothing more to give, until his body stuttered and became still only out of exhaustion, drained and empty and yet full of bliss with her comforting weight pressed against his chest. He could barely move, could barely even think, but his hands seemed as though they had a mind of their own anyway, running up and down the back of her dress, damp with sweat, his mouth mumbling affectionate words that he barely even registered. They remained connected, his body still pulsing with aftershocks, heart lurching in his chest, and when she finally tipped herself over she brought him with her, one leg still slung over him as they rested on their sides, her face tucked against his neck.

Stars bled from his vision as he clumsily grasped her face in his hands. “Baby,” he said gently, enjoying her soft moan when he adjusted his hips, “you feel good?”

Silence stretched, a beat too long. Her eyelids remained stubbornly shut, even when she nodded, her lips a thin line, tightly pursed – and it was quick, that thread of panic that began to unwind in his chest, spooling loose and filling his limbs with little jolts of alarm. Dread clawed at him, and almost as though he thought it would somehow be a cure, he rained kisses down her face – her lips, her nose, her forehead, desperate to coax a reaction. Finally, her eyes fluttered open, and immediately a tear traced a glistening path down her cheek – and he kissed this, too. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, his heart plummeting with every syllable, “it’s so stupid –”

“Not stupid.” He didn’t even know what it was, it was just reflexive, his need to ward away any semblance of self-doubt – and she seemed to realize this, because she laughed again, blinked away another tear, and with a shaky breath she reached up to pull him against her lips, the taste of salt and something deeper lingering there. “Tell me,” he mumbled when she pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers. “If that was…shit, I –”

“No, no,” she stammered. “I’m just – it’s a dumb thing to cry about.” Her laugh was a brittle thing, frayed at the edges. “I…” She pursed her lips, reaching her hand out, her fingertips tracing a feather-light path against his scars. He leaned into them, grateful for them, for this surge of warmth chasing away the sudden chill that had settled over him, chasing the ghost of her touch with a kiss to her palm when her fingers curled against his cheek. She didn’t linger here – she pivoted her arm, her hand and wrist pressed firmly against his eyes. The pleasure blossomed in his gut shifted, sharpened somewhat, twisting into a knot of anxious anticipation – because he could feel her shaking, the hand on his face fluttering like a bird trapped against his skin. “Just – give me a second, okay? Don’t look at me, maybe.”

“Don’t see that I got much of a choice in that.” He didn’t like this, the forced blindness, the lack of control – didn’t like that he couldn’t see her, couldn’t gauge her expression, that he had absolutely no idea if the woman he was still inside of was lying next to him with terror on her face – and this possibility, the sheer hypothetical of it made him feel about ready to crawl out of his skin, a mere figment of his panicked mind that felt suffocatingly real. “Benny –”

“Just – wait, okay? Just one minute.”

And so he waited, blind and anxious while her chest rose and fell against him, while her other hand began a rhythmic path up and down his back, fingers dragging along his skin. “Okay,” she finally sighed, and it was a little startling, the watery laugh that accompanied this. “I’m sorry, I just…” She dropped her hand from his face only because it was needed elsewhere, to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She caught his expression, that anxiousness, the worry that no doubt was still etched across his features, and a chuckle bubbled up from her chest. “Just – a little overwhelmed, is all. Not – not in a bad way. I’m just –” Another laugh shook her body. “You have to think I’m crazy, oh my god –”

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to force his voice into a tone that was more soothing – and she tried to rein it in, she really did, biting at her lips just to try to stop the laughter, though this only resulted in a sound more like a strangled hiccup. “Look at me.” She did, her lips parting just to let out another long, shuddering breath. “Y’aint crazy. Just wanna make sure you’re…okay, ‘cause –”

“I’m okay.” She said it so forcefully, it actually surprised him. “Because it’s not…that. I’m just…I’m really happy. And I’m not – it’s just been a while, since we…did this and I could – that it’s been only...good. And it’s just…a lot, okay? I…” And maybe she recognized his relief, because she didn’t hesitate to kiss him again, her hand sliding across his skin to squeeze at his thigh. “I think,” she mumbled against his lips, “I just…forgot how good it could be.”

“Oh.” He was so filled with relief, so full of affection for her; he pushed her hair away from her face for her, pressed his nose against her cheek with a small sigh. “Well – damn, woman,” he murmured, “glad I could remind you.”

When her bubbly laughter faded away, the silence that settled was like a warm blanket. Outside, the sun was dipping ever lower, the balcony finally cast in shadow. The light filtering through the windows and the tall glass door dimmed, tinged with the embers of a fading sunset. He couldn’t see his wife’s face as it was still tucked under his chin, but he could feel her; feel her presence in the steady rhythm of her breath, each exhale a sigh of contentment. The longer they lay there together, however, the more certain he became that she’d drifted off to sleep, draped so languidly across him.

A nagging thought prodded him; that at least one of them should be awake and ready to greet Ellie when she came back to the apartment – she wasn’t usually gone for more than a few hours at a time – but it was difficult to fully convince himself of this when he felt such peace. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d laid together like this after having sex, a moment just to enjoy the afterglow, and he realized for the first time that it was possible he missed that more than the act itself.

For just a few more minutes, he decided, everything else could wait. He closed his eyes.

#Joel Miller #Pedro Pascal #The Last of Us #TLOU #Smut #fanfic #fanfiction #TLoU smut #OC #so many ocs #more OCs than should ever exist tbh #Benny Cooper #As Long as You Follow #People Still Listen to Fleetwood Mac in the Apocalypse #Joel Miller x OC #Joel Miller x OFC

51 notes · View notes

nifolution · 27 days

Text

Letters 6

Warnings: Heartbreak, Angst, Manipulation, lies, threats, arguments, mention of pregnancy/getting pregnant, allusion of smut

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is still written in 3rd person. Steve was rescued from the Valkyrie crash. He became a world hero and came back home with Peggy to start his life. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. Reminder that chapter 5 & 6 have been reconfigured.

Chapter 5 Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 6

Peggy was not a simpleminded woman, she saw Steve sneak out in the dead of night. Phoning an associate, twelve hours later she got the answer to her husband’s whereabouts. The bastard had been playing house with his old flame. He left her bed to warm someone else’s, and according to the information in front of her, it had been going on for some time now.

She would not stand for this embarrassment, Steve needed to remember his place. He was no longer the pitiful thing he was before the serum. So sickly that if he were a pet, they would have drowned him. Captain America was the embodiment of perfection, and belonged to her. Clearly his mind had forgotten that and slipped into bad habits. She would put an end to it.

After verifying Steve’s location well outside the vicinity, Peggy arrived at his paramour’s residence. She refused to be made a fool of by some low class floozy. After successfully charming the landlord, she made her way up to her destination. Three knocks and she came face to face with the woman occupying her husband’s time.

Y/N didn’t know what she expected when she answered the door, but it wasn’t Mrs. Captain America. Nothing good could come out of Steve’s wife at her apartment. “Can I help you?” She ignored the dread that prickled up her spine.

“I see by the look on your face, that you know who I am.” Peggy smiled when the other woman nodded. “I would like to have a chat, woman to woman.”

She noticed how Peggy looked at her as if she was something she stepped in. Y/N’s anger simmered below the surface, she’d seize this opportunity to confront her uninvited guest. This spiteful, entitled, British lunatic doesn’t get to screw with her life and not expect her to fight back. “Please come in.”

Peggy sat down at the small table and asked for a cup of tea. While the other woman obliged, she looked around the tiny home with distaste, humming to herself, “Not very cohesive is it.”

Y/N returned to the table carrying the requested beverage, mentally preparing herself to have it out with this woman. As she set the tea tray down, her blood froze. Peggy was right where she left her, poised and proper, not a hair out of place, like she jumped out of a magazine… if not for the pistol casually sitting on the table.

The corner of Peggy’s mouth turned up at the clear fright in the other woman's eyes over the small firearm. “Milk and two sugars, please.”

Y/N surprised herself when her voice didn’t shake, “I do not have any milk.”

Her red lips pursed, “I suppose this will have to do then.” Peggy flashed a fake smile, taking her cup and placing it in front of her. She had no intention of imbibing whichever subpar tea was being served. “I’ll get straight to the point. I’m here to discuss my husband spending so much time with you, instead of where he belongs.”

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off the weapon, sure she was about to breathe her last. “Steve has been a good friend to me. He’s been trying to help me out.”

“I’m sure he has. However, I must insist that whatever fun you two have been having come to an end. He should be at home with me, we are having a baby after all.” Peggy sighed, a dreamy look on her face as she held her flat stomach.

Her demeanor changes once again, looking Y/N up and down with contempt, “I admit, I've been working a bit much as of late, yet I do not see the appeal. You must be very easy for him to have turned to you.” She smoothed down an nonexistent wrinkle in her skirt, then turned her dark gaze back to the other woman. “He is mine. He will never be yours. I'm all he needs. I am his love, his best friend, his home, his safety, his WIFE. You are just a hole he uses to pass the time.”

Shocked by the language and accusation, Y/N stuttered, “No we ha- haven't. I w-wouldn’t…”

Peggy held up her hand, “I do not wish to hear your excuses. Imagine if a reporter caught wind of your inappropriate relationship. His reputation would be tarnished, and you, dearie, would be ruined… You will stop seeing my husband immediately lest the consequences be swift and severe.” She placed her perfectly polished fingers on the gun, angling it toward Y/N. “Do we have an understanding?”

Y/N could only nod, terrified of the unspoken threat. She’d die, and be forever shamed as Captain America’s mistress. As the woman that came between America's perfect couple. The homewrecker, the whore. If she managed to survive, she’d lose her job and her home. Her family would disown her. She’d have nothing after such a scandal. Living on the street or dead in a box.

“Marvelous.” Peggy stood, placing the pistol back in her purse. “Oh, and I wouldn't mention a word of this friendly conversation to Steve. Stress isn't good for the baby.” She took one last look at Y/N, shaking her head. “You really are a weak thing. I do not see the appeal at all.” She closed the apartment door behind her and waited. Smiling at the sound of Y/N sobbing, she left, satisfied her first objective was completed.

---------------

Humming to herself, Peggy slipped into her best lingerie and matching robe. Admiring her image in the mirror as she let her hair down and applied her favorite shade of red lipstick that she knew drove her husband wild. The perfect trap.

Like all men, she knew Steve would step out of line from time to time. It was their nature. Men needed constant guidance. Could not be relied on to make correct decisions on their own. It made it all the more important to put Steve back in his place. He had been more resistant than expected. She needed to use her ace in the hole; allowing Steve to impregnate her.

It would not derail her career. She dared them to try to push her out of her position. Peggy knew she could do both successfully. A few months of desk work through the pregnancy, then hire a nanny and everything would work itself out. What was important was getting her husband on board with her agency and remaking the world in the name of the greater good. He would learn to see things her way. A child would ensure his cooperation. Hearing Steve’s car pull up, Peggy poured two glasses of champagne and waited.

Steve walked into his house, head hung low. Far too much on his mind. It had been two days since he last spoke with Y/N. Her request for space was killing him. He left her apartment on friendly terms, but it still felt like he was losing her. He couldn't go through that again. Steve wanted to respect her boundaries, but he missed her too much. That hollow spot inside him ached, the one created when he thought she left him for another man. He needed her. It all felt wrong. This didn't feel like coming home. It felt like hiding.

"Welcome home, Captain."

He looked up to a sight that would have once felt like it jumped out of his fantasies. Peggy in a robe that covered very little. Her come hither eyes trained on him as each slow and sensual step brought her closer. He couldn’t help but stare, accepting the glass she handed him without question.

Peggy wrapped her arms around his neck, careful not to spill her drink. She gazed into his eyes, smiling seductively as she spoke, “I’ve missed you terribly.” The words were innocent, but the tone sounded like 'take me now.' Leaning in, Peggy placed a teasing kiss on her husband's lips. A taste of what was to come.

Steve was momentarily stunned. "I um…I- I need to tell you something." He gently removed her arms, escorting her to the couch to sit beside him. There were many things he wanted to say to her, but was finding it difficult to start. So he picked the first topic that came to mind. Told her how he wanted to retire, put down the shield. Captain America was done.

She chuckled with feigned amusement, "You are being ridiculous. You're nothing if you're not Captain America... These last weeks have made you cranky and irrational, my poor dear. Let me make it better." Slowly opening her robe to expose what was underneath, she watched his eyes slightly dilate. "I was wrong, Steve. I want to have a baby now. I love you and I know you love me. Waiting seems silly. Can you picture it, a little boy playing ball in the yard, a little girl with her dollies. Our perfect family. Do you see it, darling?"

His breath caught when Peggy pushed herself against him, bosoms barely contained by thin lace. The smell of her perfume and her soft skin hypnotizing. Her hands cupped his face, pulling him into an unwanted kiss. He pulled away, “I'm not in the mood, Peg.”

“I’ll make you feel so good,” Peggy began kissing up the side of Steve’s neck while her left hand rubbed him through his pants, “you’ll forget all your troubles.” Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, “I'll even use my mouth like on our honeymoon.” Resting her head on his chest, Peggy grasped his manhood through the fabric smiling as he began to swell. “I know we’ve hit a little snag in our marriage, but that happens to every couple. Come on, Captain, your wife needs you.”

Swallowing hard, Steve stopped Peggy by holding her hand in his. He had to live with his choices. That was his ring on her finger. Did he still love Peggy? He wasn’t sure. Thinking too hard about it made his stomach churn. She was still his wife, but he could never trust her again. Everything out of her mouth seemed to be a lie. She tricked him, pursued him, used him. However, he basked in the attention, reciprocated her advances and forced himself to forget Y/N. Maybe he deserved this, a life under Peggy's thumb. He had to make this work.

Peggy used their entwined hands to pull her husband to their bedroom. She knew he couldn't resist her. He would always be a puppet and she knew just how to pull his strings.

---------------

Steve sat in his high back chair, sipping his drink, trying to quiet the voices in his head. The pleasure Peggy provided fixed nothing. In fact he felt worse. A touch once longed for, now made his skin crawl. This is not what he wanted. The love he once held for Peggy was gone, forever tainted by her actions, but he was stuck. So even though he couldn't get drunk, he let the burn of the alcohol distract him. Lamenting that no matter how much he consumed, he would never be granted numbness from these feelings. His Ma would be ashamed.

Downing the last of his glass, he poured himself another. Wishing his best friend was still around for him to confide in. Steve laughed, knowing Bucky would swipe the whiskey from his hand, tell him to stop being a punk and do something, then finish the drink himself. Maybe give him a swift kick in the ass to get him moving faster. And he’d be right. Steve couldn't undo the past, but he could change things starting now.

In the bedroom sat Peggy, scowling. “How dare he?” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, positively fuming. She degraded herself playing the whore for him and he couldn't finish. His mind clearly elsewhere.

She didn’t like this at all, she was losing control over him. Peggy had enough of the back and forth, he needed to move out of New York with her and join SHIELD, end of story. If that homewrecking hussy interfered she would squash her like the measly insect she was. Her husband would be none the wiser, accidents could be arranged. They had no idea what she was capable of.

Steve flew into the bedroom with his overnight bag in hand. Paying no mind to the woman on the bed, he began stuffing clothing and personal items into it. He had to leave and didn't want Peggy clouding his judgment. She put enough ideas in his head as it was. He wasn't going to let her control him anymore.

Peggy pushed up her breasts, prepared to continue. “Come back to bed, love.” It sounded more like a demand than a request. “We must try again. Proper insemination is required for procreation.”

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Steve turned to his preening wife. He saw her now, could peer through her illusion to the darkness and rot within. Disgusted with himself, he never wanted to touch her again. “I need to go.”

She responded with a sardonic laugh. Here she was giving him everything he wanted and that insolent man had the nerve to deny her. “I’m sorry, no. You are not going anywhere. I forbid it.”

Defying her orders, Steve walked out of their room and into the bathroom. Peggy followed at his heels. She was determined, he'd give her that. Determined and heartless. He continued to ignore her.

“You will do as I say!” Losing all composure, she shoved him with all her might, but to no avail. He continued putting items into his bag. She pushed hard at his cheek to force him to face her. “I am Captain America's wife. What good are you to me without the moniker? Without that you are worthless.” Each word punctuated by her finger stabbing into his chest.

“I have NEVER been worthless.” Finished, Steve closed the bag and headed to the front door.

Peggy ran after him. “Where do you think you are going, you ungrateful bastard!? To that waitress’ home? Your lover that cowers at the sight of a tiny firearm.”

That got a reaction. He froze in his tracks. Lifting her chin, her lips twisted into a sinister smirk, “Didn’t think I knew? You were not exactly discreet.”

Steve should have known she was still spying on him. Another one of her lies. Through clenched teeth he growled, "What did you do?”

“Only what I had to.” Peggy half shrugged, “No harm has come to her.” The silent ‘yet’ hung in the air. She attempted to take the bag out of his hand, but his grip only tightened.

She looked up at him through her lashes. “Steve, my sweet husband, we have a beautiful life together, don't spoil it. Don't disrespect everything we've built together. We were made for each other. We can get past this little hiccup.”

Placing a tentative hand on his arm, Peggy spoke with a soft voice, “I can understand your confusion, darling, and I forgive you. You run into an ex-lover and old feelings resurface, but that is all they are. Old. Dead. Feelings. Only memories. You would do well to pay them no mind.”

“We are only apart because of you.”

Peggy rubbed her brow, “Always so melodramatic. You are apart because you’re not a match. WE ARE. I believed you were bright enough to figure that out. That's why you married me. We're perfect together… Remember our vows, Steve. Remember your duties to me and your country. You were made for big things. Much too great for some lowly waitress with dirt under her fingernails. She could never run in our social circles…”

Steve interrupted, taking a step back, “Your circles, your friends.”

Stomping her foot, she screamed, “I won't be a party to your childish fantasies... You need to calm down and forget this squabble. Bury the past and appreciate what we have now.” Peggy held out her hand for him to take, “Come back to bed.”

He stared at the appendage as if it was a snake waiting to strike.

“I will not tolerate this behavior any longer. I allowed it before, knowing you needed to let off steam, but no longer. This ends now. Know your place.”

“I do.” Steve walked out the front door, and out of her life for good.

Chapter 7 (coming soon)

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x peggy carter

13 notes · View notes

maryrosevelaryon1 · 1 month

Text

Dark Raven : 05

With that, Aemond turned and walked towards the courtyard, leaving Visenya and Helaena alone in the corridor once again. Helaena was still staring off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts, while Visenya was lost in her own concerns.

After a few moments of silence, Helaena spoke, her voice soft and dreamy as always.

"You know... Aemond cares about you..."

"I know…I see that…"

The girl sighed and looked at the window.

Helaena looked at Visenya, a small smile playing on her lips. She seemed to understand something about Aemond and Visenya's relationship that others didn't, and it was always a little unsettling.

"He tries to hide it... but he cares a lot."

"Sometimes I think that... only he understands me, but I don't want him to misunderstand me if I get too close to him."

Helaena looked at Visenya, her gaze strangely perceptive and insightful. She seemed to have a strange gift for understanding the complexities of human emotions, even if she struggled to express hers.

"He understands you more than you think. He's always watching and listening, even when you think he's not. He's more observant than most people realize."

The girl knew where Helaena's conversation was leading, so she stood up and said

"I have to go..."

Helaena nodded understandingly, her dreamy gaze following Visenya as she got up to leave.

"All right...go ahead. But remember... sometimes it's worth listening to your heart, even if your mind tries to convince you otherwise..."

***

That same evening they heard about the death of Laena Velaryon ...

Ser Laenor, Visenya's father, was devastated by the news of Laena's death. He had a close relationship with his sister...

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he heard the news, grieving for the loss of his family. He retreated to his chambers, needing time alone to process his pain and sorrow. Rhaenyra, as his wife, gave him the space he needed, but also made sure to check in on him regularly, offering comfort and support.

The next morning they arrived at Drifmark...

Visenya and her family traveled to Driftmark, where the grand funeral for Laena Velaryon would be held. Sadness and grief filled the air as they approached the Velaryon castle, the weight of the loss hanging heavy on everyone's shoulders.

As they walked to the castle, Visenya couldn’t help but feel a mixture of sadness and anxiety. She knew that the funeral would be a solemn and emotional event, and she didn’t know how she would be able to cope with all the tears and grief.

The girl approached her mother and asked in a low voice.

"Will we return home soon?"

Rhaenyra looked at her daughter, seeing the anxiety in her eyes. She sighed softly and shook her head.

"No, my love. We will be staying here for a few days to pay our respects at Laena’s funeral and to support the Velaryons through this difficult time."

"Fine..."

said the girl and started looking for familiar faces with her eyes.

Visenya scanned the area, searching for any familiar faces among the guests who had gathered at the funeral. She caught sight of Daemon Targaryen, and her cousins, Baela and Rhaena Velaryon, standing a few yards away. They all looked sad and devastated, their eyes red from crying. But then she saw someone else, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Hello..."

the girl greeted Baela and Rhaena in a low voice...

Baela and Rhaena looked up as Visenya greeted them, their eyes still puffy and red from crying. They both managed a small, sad smile in response to her greeting.

"Visenya…"

Baela replied in a somber tone.

"It's good to see you..."

"I feel sorry for your mother...she was truly a strong and role model..."

Rhaena nodded in agreement, her eyes filling with tears once again.

"She was like a lioness... strong, proud, and fiercely protective of her family. We will miss her terribly..."

"You're as strong as her, I think...you'll manage without her..."

Baela and Rhaena looked at Visenya with surprise at her words, a faint smile appearing on their tear-stained faces.

"Thank you..." Rhaena murmured softly. "We'll try our best to be strong like her... but it won’t be easy…"

"I understand, I wish you peace..." the girl said to them and bowed her head and then slowly walked away

Baela and Rhaena watched Visenya walk away, touched by her sincere condolences and words of comfort.

"She's kind..."

Baela whispered to Rhaena, wiping away a tear that rolled down her cheek.

"We should spend more time with her..."

Rhaena nodded in agreement, her own eyes still sparkling with tears.

"Yes... she always knows the right thing to say, even in the most difficult times. She reminds me a lot of...."

Baela looked at Rhaena, seeing the look in her eyes and knowing exactly who she was thinking of. She placed a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder, silently showing her understanding and support.

Meanwhile, across the crowded courtyard, Aemond and Aegon stood aside, watching the interaction between Visenya, Baela, and Rhaena. Aemond glanced over at them, his gaze lingering on Visenya for a moment before looking away.

Aegon, sensing his brother's gaze, glanced sideways at Aemond, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Seems like you have a soft spot for our little niece..." he teased in a hushed voice.

Aemond shot his brother a glare, clearly annoyed by his insinuation.

"Shut up, Aegon. It's none of your business."

Aegon chuckled, clearly enjoying teasing his brother.

"Oh, come on, Aemond. Don’t deny it. We all see how you look at her. It’s quite obvious, really."

Aemond clenched his jaw, his annoyance growing. He knew that his brother was just trying to get a rise out of him, but it was working anyway.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Aegon. There's nothing... nothing going on between us, so stop making things up."

Aegon simply shrugged, a mischievous smile still on his face.

"If you say so, brother. But I’m just saying, you seem quite distracted whenever she's around. Just an observation."

He smirked, enjoying the fact that he was getting under Aemond's skin so easily.

"Brother, I don't want to disappoint you, but I want you to know that even if you want to, there's no point. A girl like that won't even look at a Targaryen who doesn't even have a dragon, or isn't special in any other way..."

said Aegon.

Aemond scowled at Aegon, the truth in his words cutting like a knife. He knew that his brother was right, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. He had never had a dragon of his own, and it had always been a sore spot for him, a constant reminder of his shortcomings.

He clenched his fists tightly, his annoyance with Aegon growing.

"I don’t need your advice, Aegon. I know my worth."

Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Oh, touchy subject, I see."

He smirked, enjoying getting under Aemond's skin. But then his expression turned more serious.

"But seriously, you really think she'd be interested in someone like you? You're a decent swordsman, sure, but you don't have a dragon or any other talents. What can you offer her, Aemond?"

Aemond's anger flared. He knew Aegon was just trying to provoke him, but the truth in his words was biting. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"And what do you have to offer, Aegon? You’re a drunken fool who's known for harassing women and little else. What does she need someone like you?"

said the boy and continued walking, turning his back on his brother.

Aegon watched as Aemond stormed away, a mixture of satisfaction and annoyance in his eyes.

He turned to walk, mumbling to himself.

"Temper, temper."

#aemond one eye #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #house targaryen #house of the dragon #aestethic #ae

14 notes · View notes

lazybutsmexy · 2 years

Note

Happy Valentines day! I saw your blurbs post and since I really like Al rn, what about an Alejandro and fem reader? Thank you😚😚💐💐

I get you nonnie, Alejandro is sooo dreamy 🥺😩♥️ uuuh I think it got a bit longer than intended, but whatever, he deserves it 🥰

Warnings: Alejandro is a bit sad in the beginning, but it's all fluff in the end ♥️

Alejandro shut the door to his home behind him, and let out a tired sigh as he toed off his boots.

The day had lasted forever, and he had been unable to spare even a minute to escape from his post at a more decent hour. He had to be in so many interrogations, and had grown more irritable the longer they went on.

It was now past midnight, he confirmed with a wry glance to his wristwatch. Valentine's Day had come and gone, and he was now mentally ready to grovel at her feet for forgiveness.

His wife deserved so much better than spending Valentine's Day without her husband there to spoil her rotten, like she deserved.

A soft music interrupted his train of thought with a screech, and he stepped into the living room, where the candlelight illuminated a lavishly set table I'm the middle of the room.

"Bienvenido a casa, Señor Vargas,(1)" his wife cooed, and he followed her voice until he finally spotted her by the staircase. His mouth hung open in shock, eating her up with his stare. She looked absolutely ravishing, the cocktail dress hugging her figure deliciously, "tienes hambre, mi amor?(2)"

Alejandro had to shake himself out of his stupor, and force himself to pull his thoughts in order, before he decidedly stepped up to her, an apology ready in his lips.

"Mi vida, cielito mío, lo siento tanto, yo-(3)" he was interrupted by soft, creamy lips sealing his own chapped ones shut, and Alejandro let out a groan. He never liked to be interrupted, but would never mind it if it was done like this, by her - only by her.

His hands found her waist and pulled her closer, hoping to pour every possible apology into every move of his lips. She pulled away, however, and chuckled softly when he pursued her. Her hands cupped his cheeks with a tenderness he was still getting used to after so many years in the army, and her eyes searched his in the dim light, shining like jewels.

"I know, mi amor, and I understand," she hummed softly, stroking his stubble and placing a soft kiss on his chin, "that's why I prepared this, and waited for you," she pulled his face lower, her lips leaving butterfly kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his lips again, "siempre que vuelvas a mí, esperaré toda la vida si es necesario.(4)"

Alejandro pressed his forehead against his beloved, and pulled her flush against him. His heart drummed loudly against his ribcage, and he felt himself falling in love with her all over again. "Ni el Diablo podría evitar que vuelva a tus brazos,(5)" he promised, pulling her back in a deep kiss.

She smiled into his lips, knowing he meant every letter, every word. He was her Alejandro, after all.

Translations:

Welcome home, Mister Vargas

Are you hungry, my love?

My love, my little sky, I'm so sorry, I-

As long as you come back to me, I will wait all my life if it's necessary

Not even the Devil would be able to prevent me from coming back to your arms.

#ask #answered #anonymous #nonnie ask #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas cod #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x reader imagines #alejandro vargas x reader scenarios #alejandro vargas x reader fluff #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mwii #cod mwii x reader #i want to be his wife so bad 🥺♥️

307 notes · View notes

dingochef · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking, light bondage, blindfolds

Summary: Even though you should be the belle of the Annual Top Gun Navy Ball, you're more of a brat and Jake enjoys every minute of the teasing and the consequences later.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 12

Word Count: 5.5k

Chapter 13: Belle or Brat?

Your Hallmark movie of a Thanksgiving trip to meet Jake's family ends Saturday at the Austin airport. Tom and Sharon have driven you and Jake to the airport and are giving you hugs and goodbyes on the curb.

Sharon is beaming when she goes to give you a hug,

"It has been so good to get to know you. I couldn't be happier that you and Jake found each other. We'll see you guys sooner than later. Take care, Elsa."

"Sharon, thank you for the wonderful time and being so welcoming. It was honestly one of the best holidays I've had in a long time."

Tom gives you a hug and you overhear Sharon talking to Jake as she hugs him goodbye.

"Love you, Jakey. Hold on to her," Sharon tells Jake.

"Love you too. I will, Mom. Don't worry."

The flight is uneventful and soon the plane is starting the intense descent into San Diego. You grab an Uber and head home, breathing in a sigh of relief as you unlocking your front door and step inside.

"Home sweet home," you say walking in. You look through the mail and think of the upcoming week. Nothing too insane for work and then the Navy Ball for the Top Gun team and a few other departments at North Island this coming Saturday.

When you and Jake had discussed it a few months ago you were unfamiliar with the concept of military ball.

"Have you ever been to one before?" you asked Jake.

"Yes, they're pretty standard throughout the Navy. I've never brought a date though. Seemed like a lot to ask someone I was only casual with. So, I'm excited to have you on my arm with me at this one."

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"Probably a fancy dress, evening gown thingy?"

You laughed,

"Very helpful."

"Cyclone said his wife would be available to take you and Lydia to a dress shop that's pretty good for these types of things."

"That'd be helpful, does Mrs. Cyclone have a name?"

Jake laughed and flipped through his phone,

"Maddie Simpson, I sent you her contact info."

��

The week before the ball flows along as expected, work is busy but not too much. The schematics for Darkstar 2.0 are getting finalized. Lydia and you meet Friday after work for pedicures and manicures to get all dolled up for the ball tomorrow. You select a light pink for your toes and a golden beige for your nails, keeping it subtle. You and Lydia chat and exchange info on what to expect tomorrow.

"Rooster said to be prepared for a whole bunch of speeches, so his advice was to hold off your bathroom break till the middle of those," Lydia reports.

"Jake mentioned there's a receiving line where we get to meet all the big wigs," you offer up your bit of intel.

"It sounds like a prom mashed with a wedding."

"Well, it sounds like this won't be the only one we attend."

She gets a dreamy look on her face, "Yeah, I think these guys are sticking around. Who'd of thought, me going after some random guy I thought was hot at the bar for a quick fuck would have ended us up here?"

"I'll salute your sluttiness, it paid off this time, you laugh and stick your tongue out at Lydia letting her know you're joking. You continue,

"You realize we're going to have to come up with some fake story to tell our kids of how we met their dads till they're old enough. Something about your Aunt Lydia thought your Uncle was hot and was curious of how big his cock was and then your mom completely humiliated your dad in front of his friends. Then they went to a baseball game and fell in love. I don't think that's going to be kid appropriate for a looong time."

Lydia is cracking up.

"How about we say we all met at a church picnic?!"

"Let's go with that."

"So you thinking the whole deal with Hangman? Marriage and kids?"

"I know we're on the marriage train, I asked him when we made all this official if that's where we were headed. Kids are more of a question mark. The way he was with his nieces in Texas was so freaking adorable. It was easy to imagine him as a dad and for like the first time ever I felt my biological clock. Like I felt I needed to give him babies."

Lydia is half laughing and half in shock.

"You are in deep, you'd be good parents."

"You and Rooster?"

She pauses,

"I think he's going to propose. Rooster's been a little weird lately. I keep walking in on him writing something and muttering something like 'That's not it'. And he's been a little cagey like he's planning something."

"Is it a problem if he proposes?"

"I don't think so. It does feel a little soon."

"Would you say yes?"

"Yes, of course I would."

"Then don't worry about it."

"You're right."

At that moment your nail technicians let you know you're done. You walk out doing your best to keep your nails smudge free. Waving your goodbyes to Lydia you promise to see her tomorrow at the ball.

Jake and you have a quiet evening in and an easy Saturday morning, not doing too much knowing you have a big event tonight.

The cocktail hour starts at 5 pm so you're ready by 4:30 and walk out to meet Jake in the living room. He is sitting on the couch fiddling with his phone and he stands up when he hears you on the wood floor. You are treated to a look of surprise and utter adoration from Jake.

"Oh El, you look gorgeous," he declares and

You do a little twirl around showing him the full look.

Your dress is a dark navy one shoulder style mermaid style dress with a plunging back and strap across the back to hold it together. There is a slit down the side to help with movement. When you were picking out dresses with Lydia and Maddie Simpson this one stood out to you for the bare back. It was easy to imagine the feel of Jake's hand on your back.

He walks around the couch, eyeing you from head to toe.

"God, I'm not sure we're gonna make it there, you look so good."

He also looks extremely good in his dress uniform. It's his most formal one with a dinner jacket with tails, bowtie, and cumberbund. You hold back the girlish sigh on your lips on how unbelievably handsome he is.

"You keep your hands to yourself mister, this took a lot of work."

"Fine, fine, I'll take you out and show you off," he stands behind you and leans in as he brushes his hand up your back,

"I'll just have to wait to have my way with you, I can tell the way you're eyeing me you've got ideas too."

You let out a traitorous sigh,

"Maybe, but we should get going." Jake just chuckles and kisses your temple.

When you arrive you pick up a name tag at a table near the entrance that says, "Dr. Elsa Matthews, PhD, PE, Guest of Lieutenant Jake Seresin."

"Jake, you didn't have to put titles on my name tag," you chide him. He laughs,

"It's not to boost your ego, it's a tactical move to annoy one of my coworkers, Jenkins. He's convinced that there isn't a woman smart enough to have a PhD in aerospace engineering so I thought I'd pump up your credentials to mess with him."

"How mature," you respond. You make your way to the bar, get a drink, and prepare to mingle.

Jake sees Rooster and Lydia first, "Look there's Rooster and Lydia. Let's grab a table with them while we can."

You make your way over to Rooster and Lydia and greet them on the side of the giant room.

"Lydia, Rooster, you guys look great," you say giving them each a hug. Rooster gives the compliment back, at least to you,

"Elsa, you look stunning. Hangman, you look adequate."

Jake just laughs,

"I'm wearing the same thing you are, but I make this look good. I'd give you a solid C+."

Rooster opens his mouth to send another volley, but Lydia stops him,

"Let's grab a table so we can make sure we all sit together. I need Elsa as my emotional support animal to get through this."

You snag a table near the back and on the edge.

"Strategic," you say, "Makes bathroom breaks more subtle."

Jake leans in so only you can hear, "Or sneaking off to do other things." He winks as he leans out to join the conversation.

Rooster looks over your head and groans a little,

"Here comes Jenkins."

"The one who doesn't think women can be engineers?" you ask Jake.

"Yup."

A guy with black hair in a buzz cut and a pudgy face with a scraggly mustache appears with his date, a petite blond that looks like she could get blown away in a stiff wind.

"Hangman, so this is the infamous girlfriend, Elsa. I'm Paul" he says, grabbing your hand and kissing it in greeting,

"Enchanté."

You're shocked he would do that in front of his date/ girlfriend. Jake is rolling his eyes at the over the top gesture.

"Nice to meet you, Paul," you turn to his date, "and you too."

She responds,

"Sarah, his sister."

You feel slightly better that he's not a total sleazeball.

"Sarah, these are my coworkers, Hangman and Rooster. This is supposedly Hangman's smarty pants girlfriend," he leans uncomfortably close to your chest to read your name tag out loud verbatim,

"Dr. Elsa Matthews, PhD, PE."

Sarah and you nod at each other.

"What's the PE for?" Jenkins asks.

"Licensed Professional Engineer."

"So basically a nerd license?"

Jenkins laughs jarringly like a hyena looking around the group to see if anybody else is laughing. No one is.

"Yeah, something like that. So, Sarah, do you live in the area or are you visiting?" you ask, trying to divert the conversation to something more interesting. Jenkins isn't having it,

"Alright, if you're actually a doctor in aerospace engineering, tell me something smart."

"I didn't think this was going to turn into a job interview. You could just look at my LinkedIn page if you want to know all my professional accomplishments."

Jake smirks as he watches. Jenkins doesn't give up,

"Naw naw, Doc. Say something smart."

"Will telling you I have three parents for hypersonic aviation modular life support systems, out of a total of 22 patents, shut you up?"

Jake and Rooster are smiling into their drinks watching the conversation. You can tell they aren't particularly fond of Jenkins.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You don't have to be a show off. If you're so smart then why are you with Hangman? I'm on the market, baby."

Jake has snorted his beer through his nose and is coughing, Rooster pats him on the back. Rooster and Lydia are waiting for your next verbal volley like they're watching a tennis match.

"It's because he has a giant cock. Do I need to describe that in great detail so you understand, too?"

You respond with an accompanying hand gesture, slowly, like you're talking to a child, a particularly slow child with a bad mustache. Sarah hides a smile at her idiot brother. Rooster coughs into drink.

Jenkins barks out his hyena laugh,

"I like this one, Seresin!"

Sarah grabs her brother's shoulder and urges him to walk away. He looks over his shoulder as he turns,

"Hey baby, if you find you get bored with the Hangman and want to hang out with a hung man," he gestures obscenely to his crotch, making you gag a little,

"Give me a call, sweet cheeks."

Rooster calls out to Sarah,

"I'd keep him away from the bar for the rest of the night, just a word of advice."

You look at Jake,

"What the hell is wrong with him? And please tell me he doesn't fly a plane."

"Multiple things, probably dropped on his head as a child, many, many times," Jake responds,

"And no, thank God, he is not a pilot. He's in charge of aircraft parts, so a glorified inventory clerk."

"Please tell me that's your weirdest coworker," you plead with Jake and Rooster.

"Yes, everybody else is pretty normal." Jake answers.

You lean over to Jake,

"I'm not going to get you in trouble for that big cock comment, am I?"

Jake looks at you,

"Don't worry about it, the higher ups don't believe anything he says. I would probably recommend not saying that to Cyclone, it might be a bit of a weird conversation starter."

You laugh, the tension easing.

You and Jake circulate around and meet more of Jake's coworkers and the rest are pleasant and not obnoxious jackasses.

Soon dinner is served and the speeches start up. They feel a lot like corporate speeches but with more patriotism sprinkled in. You are definitely bored by the end of the first one. Maybe it is the champagne on an empty stomach, but you decide to mess with Jake a little bit. You slip your heel off and nudge Jake's pant leg with your foot making contact with the skin under the fabric. Jake's eyebrow raises and he gives you a slight smile as he realizes what you are doing. After a few minutes you put it back in your shoe.

At the next applause break, you pretend to fiddle with your earring and pop it off into your hand.

"Oh no, I think I just lost my earring," you say loud enough to catch Jake's attention,

"I think it fell off that way."

You point towards Jake's feet. You lean over to peek under the tablecloth and as you do you cup Jake's crotch. You know the view of your actions is obscured by the tablecloth and your body. You're rewarded with a quick breath in from Jake.

You emerge from the tablecloth holding your earring, stating,

"Found it," as you put it back on. Jake is staring at you more pointedly now, eyebrow raised in question.

You lean to whisper so only he can hear,

"I'll stop if you say stop. I won't do anything that would embarrass you, just want to rile you up for later."

You pull back to see his response and he leans back in to whisper into your ear.

"Just know you'll face the consequences later," he smirks.

It's your turn to get a little flush and give him a knowing smile. Another speech starts and you keep your hands to yourself for the entirety of the speech. At the end, you use the moment to excuse yourself to the bathroom. When you're in the stall you slide off the lacy thong you chose for tonight and ball it up in your hand. As you sit back down you sneak the underwear in Jake's pants pocket. His hand goes to investigate and the moment he recognizes that it is lacy fabric and his jaw clenches ever so slightly. He looks at you eyebrows raised and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.

The room darkens for a video on a screen up front. You use the opportunity to slide Jake's hand to the slit on your dress, that is conveniently on the side nearest him. You place your napkin over his hand to obscure the scene. His hand is on your skin and ever so slowly creeping around to your inner thigh, trying to flex his fingers up towards your pussy. The video ends and he discreetly pulls his hand back to clap, making eye contact with you the whole time.

The speeches are over and they announce that the dance floor is open. Jake stands up and extends his hand, "May I have this dance, El?"

The music is classical and you recognize it as a waltz. You're surprised when we get to the dance floor and Jake leads you in a perfect waltz.

"Should I add ballroom dancing to your list of many hidden talents?" you ask Jake as he gives you a twirl.

"Yes, among others. My mom insisted we learn to dance the classics. And how are you so well informed on ballroom dance techniques?"

"My mom made me go to cotillion. I remember all the dances and how to set a 36 inch place setting."

"What a useful skill in this day and age," he laughs.

After a few more classical dances, the music has changed to more contemporary pop and rock and roll making the dancing more informal. Lydia and Rooster make their way to you on the dance floor. The lighting has changed and the room is darker and by the DJ stand there are colored lights that change with the beat of the music. It feels like a high school prom with some of the music choices, and you have fun trying out cheesy moves mostly to make everyone else laugh.

The song switches to a song you recognize, Eric Clapton's Wonderful Tonight. Jake places one hand on your back on the bare skin and takes your hand in the other. You place your free hand on his shoulder and start to sway in time with the music. Jake is singing along just loud enough for you to hear and his deep voice reverberates through his chest against yours. You wonder if you can fall even more in love with him the way he's looking at you when the song ends.

Borrowing a lyric from the song, you say,

"It's time to go home now."

He laughs at your choice of words and lowers his head to tell you,

"Someone also needs to face the consequences of her actions, like putting her panties in my pocket so I know you're bare and there'd be nothing in my way."

You swallow hard and just dumbly nod, no coherent thoughts forming, Jake sees the look on your face and just smirks. You make our goodbyes to Lydia and Rooster and head out to the car.

You are barely buckled in when Jake's hand finds the slit in your dress. Pushing his hand up toward your pussy, he extends his fingers and just gently parts the folds around your clit, and then suddenly retreats his hand. You whine at the loss of contact.

"Does someone not like getting teased?" he laughs.

He leans over the console and puts a hand behind your head to catch your lips and mouth in a deep kiss that you feel all the way to your toes. He pulls back and starts the car, leaving you breathless and needy.

"El, you're lucky this is a stick or you'd be getting a lot more teasing on the drive home."

You are never happier that you live only 10 minutes from the base. Jake drives you home in what feels like a deliberately slower manner. You finally break,

"Jake, I need you inside me as soon as possible."

"Ooh, you are hot and ready to go. This'll make what I have planned for you even better."

"What do you have planned, besides fucking me the instant we get inside the door?"

"Oh, so much more, sweetheart. Just you wait."

Mercifully, you arrive home. You feel like you are sprinting to get the door unlocked and Jake is taking his sweet time getting to the porch. You step inside and Jake follows. He pulls you back to his chest and starts to kiss a line down your neck. Jake guides you to the bedroom and unzips your dress leaving you completely naked. He pushes you onto the bed so you are sitting on the edge.

"You were a wretched little tease tonight," he grabs your chin and tilts it up to look at him, "I've been thinking of all the ways I could have you when we got back here."

His thumb rubs across your lower lip and you take it into your mouth and suck on it earning a low groan from him.

"Teases need to learn some lessons in patience," he purrs as his hand slides down to cup your breasts and pinch your nipple, ripping a ragged moan from you.

"Lay down and wait, I'll be right back," he looks at you and says with deadly seriousness, "Do not touch yourself. understand me?"

You nod in agreement. He leaves the room and you slip off your heels and lay down on the top of your bed.

He returns holding a small bowl and the belt from your silk robe. He puts the small bowl on the dresser and kneels next to the bed.

"El, I'm going to tie you to the bed and blindfold you. Are you okay with that?" He is searching your eyes for any hesitancy.

"I'm very okay with that," you practically purr.

He breaks into the panty dropper smile and says,

"Good, we can stop this at any time, just say red light."

He is referencing the system you agreed upon for communicating in bed.

"Sounds good, green light."

He lifts your hands up above your head and the cool softness of the silk robe belt encircling your wrists and the fabric tightens as he ties it to the headboard. You flex your arms and find that you can't move them far. Jake is now standing next to the bed staring at you. He has pulled his dinner jacket off and thrown it over the back of the armchair in the corner, the medals clinking as it lands. Next he pulls off the cumberbund and sends it over to join the jacket. He unties his bow tie, throwing it down to the bed next to you and unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt. His next move is classically sexy and makes you press your thighs together to get some kind of friction. He pulls his cufflinks out and puts them on top of the dresser next to him and then he methodically rolls his sleeves up revealing his tanned and muscular forearms.

"Enjoying the show, El?" he laughs.

"Very much," you breathe more than speak.

"Good," he says as he sits down on the bed taking the bow tie in his hand and he ties it gently around your head pulling the fabric to cover your eyes.

You take a deep breath and relax into the bed.

"Good, El?"

"Very good, Jake."

The first thing you feel is Jake's hands sweeping up your legs and just skimming the inside of your thighs short circuiting your brain. You try to thrust your pelvis towards his hands and he evades your motions and continues up your body. You whine out a little pout. Jake just laughs. His hands move along to cup your breasts, just pinching at the nipple to a firm point before he leans down to kiss them. He pulls back and you are lost without any contact from him.

The bed dips around your waist and the crisp fabric of his dress pants stretches across your thighs as he straddles you. You are unsure what his next move will be until the cool metal of his dog tags fall on your chest, eliciting a squeak from you. He huffs out a little laugh.

Jake leans down and holds his lips just above yours, the heat from his mouth apparent on your lips as he talks,

"Sweet, sweet, El. Who knew you were such cock tease and so naughty."

He traces a finger down your cheek and across your lips as he talks. You try to lift your head to kiss his lips and he pulls away before you make contact. Your head falls to the bed in defeat and then Jake is kissing you hard, tongue invading your mouth. He pulls away and you lift your head to chase his lips for more, earning another soft and teasing laugh from him.

Jaken kisses a line down your jaw and neck, continuing his path down your chest and finally settling his lips just under your left breast. The feeling from his lips intensifies and he sucks a bruise there, the slight pain from the blood vessels breaking blissfully radiating out. You're so tightly wound that anything, any feeling, pain or pleasure, soothes you. You moan loudly at that thought. He pulls off and gently kisses the sensitive area.

Ghosting his lips down your stomach he swerves at the last second avoiding your very wet and very needy pussy. You whine out in frustration, and plead to him,

"That's where I need it, please, Jake."

"Are we frustrated, El?"

"Yes, please, please touch me. Anything." you plead, sounding a bit desperate.

"It's okay, El. I'll take care of you," Jake coos reassuringly. The bed springs up and the weight of Jake is gone leaving you a little unmoored. Sounds you can't identify filter over from the far side of the room and suddenly you are overwhelmed by a cold burst of wetness on your nipples, they pebble and firm up instantly. An undignified yelp escapes your mouth with a

"What was that?"

"Ice," Jake laughs as he settles in the bed, and you can practically hear his smirk. He resumes his position over you and his cold lips trail down your torso and engulf your clit with no warning. You respond by squealing a mix of pleasure and pain and lifting your hips as far off the bed as possible, unsure if you want to retreat or want more.

"You are so much fun to tease. So responsive and sensitive," Jake says as he pulls back.

"Not fair, I need you, Jake," you respond, emphasizing the word need. He returns his cold mouth to your clit and begins to lick it fast and hard. Two fingers into you without any resistance and join his tongue in his fast rhythm. It doesn't take long for his mouth to warm up and push you to the edge of climax.

You are a moaning mess, and all you can sob out is,

"So close, so close, don't stop."

He pulls his face back and keeps his fingers in you at the same intense pace.

"You don't get to come till I let you, El."

If it was possible that statement would have made you even wetter. It's not helping how turned on you are. He plants his mouth hard on your clit and keeps licking.

"Please, can I come?"

Your begging question fills the air. "Please?" You ask again. You are so close that you know Jake can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers. Every second you're kept waiting is an exquisite mix of overwhelming bliss and the pain of almost coming.

Abruptly Jake pulls back everything. His mouth and hands are gone and your hips lift to chase him.

"What the fuck, Jake?"

You try to sound more indignant than needy. He just laughs as an answer. The bed shifts as Jake stands up. The sound of his clothes hitting the floor is followed by the ties at your wrists being undone.

The bed dips and Jake flips you over with the ease that only he can achieve. You are still blindfolded and unsure of his next move. He grips your hips and pulls your ass up as he gently pushes your head down to the bed. Your knees are being pushed apart with his knee and his hard cock brushes against your thighs enticingly. He is so achingly close to tight where you need him.

Finally, he takes pity on you and runs the head of his cock through your glistening folds.

"You ready, El?" he asks, still teasing your slit.

You practically shout,

"Yes, please fuck me, please."

"So needy, the tease doesn't like to be teased?"

He is laughing as he kisses down your spine.

You reach a hand back to try and touch yourself for some relief and you are treated to a stinging slap on your ass. You bite your lip to keep the moan it pulls out of you in, not wanting to give Jake the satisfaction right now, not when he's teasing you so mercilessly.

"Do I have to tie you up again? You'll come when I tell you, El."

Your whine in response is pure lust and absolute need,

"No, sir. Please fuck me, I need you."

He obliges and plunges in without any more warning or teasing. You almost come before he has bottomed out. With how hard you're gripping the comforter in your hands holding 9ff your orgasm, you're slightly afraid you're going to rip holes in the fabric, not that any part of your brain can be bothered to care. Each of Jake's thrusts pulls out a moan that sounds more like of a sob of relief than of pleasure. Jake pulls all the way back out and for a second you are lost. He pushes back in and starts to fuck you slowly. You try to speed up his thrusts by pushing back your body.

He laughs and grips your hips hard to still you, the thought that he might leave bruises makes you clench around him,

"Remember, who's in charge here?"

You don't respond and feel another harsh slap on the other cheek of your ass. This time you can't help the moan and accompanying clench of your pussy on his cock.

"Answer me, El."

"You are, Lieutenant," is all you can choke out, your need to come overwhelming you. The word triggers something in Jake and he is now fucking you at a relentless pace. His body is starting to tense, a sign he is getting close to the edge; he mercifully slips his hand down to touch your clit. You are right back at that edge of ecstasy within seconds and you hear yourself begging again,

"Please, can I come? Lieutenant? Please?"

His body stutters and you know he is close. Through gritted teeth, he says,

"Come around my cock baby, I want to feel how much you need it."

That is all the encouragement you need. You shatter around him clenching hard. The orgasm is so overwhelming that if you hadn't had the blindfold on still the room would have grayed out.

Your head thunks down to the soft mattress as the pleasure rolls over you, Jake thrusts a few more times to chase his release, his hands gripping at your hips hard to keep you from moving up the bed.

"Fuck, El, gonna come, gonna fill you up," he grits out. You are still in the throes of your climax that you are almost too out of it to say anything.

"Please, Jake, give it to me. I've been good, please," you rasp. He comes with a mighty roar and bends down, his chest against your back as he catches his breath, one hand planted on the bed to support his weight, the other rubbing soothing circles on your side.

He reaches down to your shoulder and pulls you up to his chest tilting your head to kiss you sweetly, a contrast to the intensity of a few minutes ago. Jake pulls the blindfold off and slowly pulls out of you. He gently lowers you to the bed and lays down next to you pulling you into his arms. Your head settles on his chest as you both come down from your mutual high. After a few minutes Jake kisses your forehead tenderly.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes, way better than okay, in fact great," you respond. He laughs at your effusive gushing and his lips are on your forehead again. You roll over to your stomach so you can see his face.

"That's definitely been a fantasy of mine, never really trusted anyone enough to let go of that control," you tell him as you trace idle circles on his chest with your index finger.

"I remembered from one of your trips to Bakersfield. Did it live up to your expectations?" he asks.

"Not that this is a Yelp review or anything, but 5/5 greatly exceeded my expectations. Would have sex like this again."

You're rewarded with one of Jake's deep laughs,

"How am I supposed to keep my ego in check if you're telling me that kind of stuff?"

"You earned it, stud." you yawn, aware of how late it is.

"Is Cinderella out past midnight?" Jake teases.

"Yes, and she is quickly turning into a pumpkin. I'm going to wash all this makeup off and then I'm going to cuddle up to my handsome stud of a boyfriend and fall asleep."

"Sounds excellent," Jake yawns back in agreement. You head to the bathroom and when you return Jake is already asleep. You turn off the lights and slide into bed and lay your head on his chest before sleep overtakes you.

Up next: Elsa's family comes to town for Christmas and it's not all hot chocolate and hugs...*foreshadowing*.

Chapter 14

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

#top gun maverick #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun smut #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #hangman smut #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #jake seresin smut

74 notes · View notes

george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

Note

Hello sweets

Can I get a George Weasley x tall reader (I'm 5'10) like it's sad I won't have to ask my boyfriend to get stuff for me like all these girls in the fic because I just can get it myself

Have a nice day ahead

This story was, in part, inspired by this scene from the movie Big Fish.

youtube

You were so focused on cooking that you didn't hear George sneak up behind you until he wrapped one arm around your waist and used the other to grab the bottle of olive oil from the top shelf that you could more than easily reach.

"You know I can it get myself," you teased.

George shrugged. "I know, but it always makes you smile. And I love when you smile," he said as he began to nibble on your ear. "Besides, it's also a great way to get you all hot and bothered."

You rolled your eyes but still leaned into his soft kisses that were now trailing down your neck. "Georgie, our dinner guests will be here any minute," you reminded him.

"No fair. You never let me any fun," he whined, just before he blew a raspberry on your cheek, making you scream.

~•~

Tonight was important. You were having several entrepreneurs over to dinner to discuss the possibility of expanding Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes stores to other countries.

But before business, there was always small talk. And if there was ever an opportunity for George to tell the story of how the two of you met, he was going to take it. You knew tonight would be no different. Even Fred, who used to roll his eyes every time his twin would tell the story, now encouraged him because no matter how curmudgeon or cynical the listener might be, the tale always managed to charm them. It was a great way to break the ice with potential business partners and new clients.

"I swear, if my wife wasn't so tall, we would've never met," George began. "The first time I saw her was at this house party that was being thrown by a friend of Fred's girlfriend. There had to be at least 200 people packed into this house that was about the size of this table," he motioned to the dining room table around which the eight of them sat. "You could barely move without elbowing somebody. So I'd stepped outside to get some fresh air and was standing on the deck, a beer in hand, marveling at how even outside people still melded together into one giant amorphous blob. And that's when I saw her gliding through the crowd, standing head and shoulders above almost everyone else. The whole world came screeching to a halt around us. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was the most beautiful, exquisite, and statuesque woman I'd ever laid eyes on," George took Y/N's hand and kissed it, drawing dreamy sighs from the three other women and at least one of the men at the table.

"I watched her as she made her way toward the deck where I was standing," George continued. "I was so completely mesmerized that instead of approaching her, I just stood there like a dork with my mouth hanging open. It was only when she disappeared inside that the spell broke, and I realized I'd just let her walk on by, without so much as a hello."

"You didn't see him?" One of the women asked you.

"No," you shook your head. "I was too busy trying to get through the crowd."

"So what happened?"

"Well," George said, leaning forward. "I learned something very important about my wife that night. She's fast. Damned fast," he paused to take a sip of wine. "I'm not used to that. Most people have trouble keeping up with me because of my long legs. But her legs are almost as long as mine and far more graceful," he said, grinning at you. "She just moves effortlessly through crowds while I'm tripping around, trying to push my way through. By the time I got inside, she was already halfway through the house. And by the time I made it to the front porch, she was already getting into a car and riding off into the night."

"Wait? You didn't actually meet that night?" Another of their guests asked.

"Nope," George replied. "And other than a first name, no one seemed to know anything about her. Turned out she was a friend of a friend of a friend."

"So... when did you actually meet?"

"Three weeks later," Fred chimed in. "During the back to school rush on Diagon Alley. And thank Godric he did. He'd been moping about all over the place."

A round of chuckles broke out around the table, and a light blush briefly appeared on George's face. You were tempted to reach around your husband and slap Fred in the back of his cocky head. You could've easily done so, but refrained because it would've been unprofessional and would've embarrassed poor George even more.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, George cleared his throat and continued, "The day before school starts back is one of our busiest. From the moment we open to the moment we close, it's nonstop chaos. I was exhausted and was getting ready to take my much needed afternoon break when I saw Y/N's face floating above the crowd."

"You really weren't lying when you said her height was the reason you met," one of the guests commented.

"Nope," George replied, taking another sip of wine.

"I take it you didn't get your break?"

George shook his head. "I spent the next hour helping Y/N and her little sister, who was starting her first year at Hogwarts, find everything she could possibly need to start the year off right."

"And then what?"

"Then," George answered. "I asked Y/N out to dinner. And of course she said yes. The rest, as they say, is history."

~•~

The moon was high in the sky when dinner finally wrapped up with both new deals and new friends made. You'd stepped outside to enjoy the warm summer evening while George and Fred finished up some paperwork.

You were too wrapped up stargazing to hear George tiptoe up behind you until he wrapped both his arms around your waist. "Nice night for an evening, yeah?"

Snorting at his usual off-the-wall humor, you turned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He melted into your embrace. "I adore that those lovely, long arms of yours just wrap completely around me in this perfect, warm hug. I could disappear into your arms every time," he mummered as he began trailing kisses down your jaw.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @imshiningjustforyou @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @princess-paramour @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley headcanon #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #hp universe

131 notes · View notes

a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

Note

Hi! I love your writing! Especially your Mairon. Can I request a Mairon x wife Reader (female Maia of Yavanna) where she insists that spending the day outside with her away from his forge will cure his burnout on his current project. He doesn’t like the idea at first, but is quickly impressed with the new skills she shows him. So impressed that it leads to smut in the garden. Thank you!

"The beauty in imperfections"

Pairing: Mairon x Fem. Reader (Maia | Established relationship | Second person POV | Location - Almaren)

Themes: Soft | Smut (Lemon-ish)

Word count: 1.7k words

Summary: Things heat up between you and Mairon while resting in a starlit meadow.

Rating:🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

For rules and tag form, read here.

"You toil too much, husband."

Mairon poured over many pieces of parchment, all of which were filled with drawings. He welled up with loathing whenever he glanced at them.

"Master Aulë tasked me with the creation of a diadem worthy of Varda herself," he replied, turning to face you, his voice and eyes dulled by exhaustion. "It must be perfect...none of these are perfect."

Ah, yes. Mairon and his quest for order and perfection. It was both a blessing and a curse, one that threatened to cripple him most of the time. You looked at him, your eyes filling with worry.

"You have confined yourself to the four walls of this forge for too long, husband," you said, taking his hand. "You need a diversion. A change of air will do you good, I think."

Mairon protested with, "But my task... Master Aulë..."

You were quick to cut him off. "Can wait. Come, husband. I am certain your vision can wait."

Mairon opened his mouth to refuse. You simply stood there, hands on your hips, bearing a look that would take no refusal. Mairon glared, the light slowly returning to his golden-orange eyes. You were unmoved. He crossed his arms over his chest. You were unmoved. You tapped the toe of your shoe against the floor. The forge soon filled with the unmistakable tap tap tap of hardened leather against stone. You arched a brow.

Mairon's lips curled at the corners. The tap tap tap grew insistent. Mairon's chest rumbled. You grinned while he struggled to hold back his amusement. Mairon finally laughed long and softly and shook his head.

"Determined little thing, yes?" He paused to walk around the forge. The flames in the furnace had been extinguished, and it was cool to the touch. Tools had been safely put away. All that remained was to shut the doors and windows, and he could leave. "Pray be patient a little longer, and we will leave, you and I."

It was not long before you were leading Mairon down a pebbled path that threaded around a beautiful meadow. The way ahead was lit with bright starlight. It turned the world a glorious silver. Mairon glanced at you, how your hair shone, how your eyes had gone soft and bright and dreamy. He found himself sighing softly.

"Here," you said, and led him under the gnarled branches of an oak tree that had withered with time. You spread your skirts over the soft grass and sat down with your back to the bark. "Come lay here and place your head on my lap."

Mairon made himself comfortable, sighing wistfully when cool air washed over him and you brushed your hand down his hair. He looked at you, wondering how much he would have missed and how long he would have been away from you, toiling on a vision that kept slipping through his fingers.

"Forgive me," he whispered, reaching up to curl his fingers around your hair. "For keeping myself from you for so long. Are you angry?"

"No," you replied truthfully. "For you have your duties just as much as I have mine. But I must confess," you sighed with worry, "watching your tasks consume you alarms me."

"I know," he agreed, "but I cannot help myself. It has to be perfection, nothing less. Is that wrong?"

"Perfection is an illusion, husband." You counseled, and reached to the side to pluck a dandelion in full bloom. "Nothing is truly perfect. Look at this flower. Yavannah created these with her own hands. See how uneven its petals and leaves are, how it is filled with little bumps and lines."

Mairon took the flower and looked over it critically. He found the little bumps and lines, the mismatched petals and leaves.

"And yet it is still beautiful," he admitted, albeit reluctantly. Mairon craved order and perfection; he could not help himself. Still, there was truth to what you said. Nothing was perfect, and even imperfections bring about beauty all of their own. "Perhaps you are right. I will stay away from the forge for a while, and go back to my task with rested eyes."

"Yes," you allowed, and looked around you. The meadow was a riot of blooms, and at that moment, the light from Telperion slowly spread out against the night sky in a brilliant display. The world was even more beautiful for it. Mairon saw it too. There was peace here, and magic. He slowly rose to his feet and dusted himself off, wanting to make the most of the time the two of you had together.

"Walk with me, wife," he implored, taking your hand into his. "Come walk with me."

Walk with him you did. You showed where the roses were, and where the wildflowers bloomed, even the lavender and sage and jasmines. Every flower and vine and tree imaginable was here. Mairon followed you, listening to you while you talked, his eyes on your lips the entire time. They were lips that were meant to be kissed. It had been long, too long in his mind, when the two of you kissed. And he thought he might not find himself in a more wonderous moment like this ever again. He stopped walking. You turned your attention to him, your gaze holding his even as he inched closer. His eyes burned into yours as the two of you stood close—so close that you felt the warmth wash off his fana and make your heart race a beat faster. Mairon wasted no time. He took you into his embrace and lowered his head, his lips barely brushing over yours.

His kiss shrouded your thoughts in a veil of bliss when it slowly deepened. Mairon growled, the sound low in his throat, when you responded passionately and returned his kiss eagerly. Goosebumps prickled all over your skin when his tongue slipped into the warmth of your mouth and the tips of his fingers dug into your dress.

"Husband," you breathed, and drew back. "Someone may find us."

"Eru take the others," he muttered thickly, and led you to a patch of meadow filled with glorious red blooms gilded in silver light. He lay down on soft grass and extended his arm. "Come here, wife. We may never get another moment like this again."

You licked your lips and considered his request. To engage in an act so private in a place where anyone could see... it was terrifying, and daring, and so very exciting at the same time. You looked over your shoulder, at the path you took. There was not a soul to be seen. And Mairon was right. The two of you might never come across an enchanting moment like this. You took his hand and lay beside him.

Mairon kissed you, now gently, his skilled hands undoing the lacing of your dress, loosening it, while you found the fastenings on his. He had you on your back before you could even think and he moved over you, caging you to the grass beneath you.

The air smelled so sweet. It was all roses and new leaves and him. You could smell him: all flames and leather and steel and the clean scent of him beneath it all. Your hands were curious in their exploration. You slipped them beneath his robes, running them all over his heated flesh. His breath hitched when you took him into your hands. Mairon trembled, really trembled, his eyes closing, his breathing reducing to ragged little gasps whenever you tightened and released, tightened and released. Just listening to him moan and whisper sweet endearments while hardening in your hands was enough to make you throb and dampen between your thighs.

His hand glided up your leg, going higher and higher before finding your small clothes. There was a sharp rip when he tore apart the wisps in his haste to reach the apex between your thighs. Your back bowed when skilled fingers touched you in a way that was familiar to you, fanning the flames already ablaze in your belly. His kisses muffled your moans. The delicious friction caused by his touch unraveled you.

It was not enough. He drew back and tugged his tunic over his head, his breeches even lower to free his cock. He helped you pull the top of your dress down, dipping his head to taste.

"You taste so sweet," he declared, his tongue leaving a damp trail over the soft expanse of your breasts. You had to bite your tongue. Mairon gripped your chin and tilted it up, compelling you to look at him. He did not want silence. He wanted to hear the sounds of your pleasure. He considered it to be the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "Moan for me, wife. You know how I enjoy it when you do."

He eagerly dipped his head again. This time his kisses were violent and bruising, turning your fana into a canvas all of its own. Your moans, now wanton and unrestrained, spilled free. Mairon grew drunk on the sounds and shook when your arms slipped around his shoulders and your nails dug in.

"Hurry," you urged. The need to have him inside you was growing stronger by the moment. "Hurry, husband. There. There. Right there."

Mairon slowly sank his cock into your heat and lost himself in your flesh. He felt like such a fool, putting his labors over time with you. Not even the finest of his creations could compare to the time spent with you. His thrusts went from slow to rhythmic to hard and deep and fast, his hips slapping against the insides of your thighs. He trembled when your hands devled into his hair and the tips of your fingers brushed over his scalp, sending wave after wave of unimaginable bliss washing over him. He crushed your mouth with his when your legs scrambled for purchase against his hips.

It was over so soon. When he shuddered and spilled his seed, whispering your name, your fana splintered as your orgasm ripped through you. Mairon moaned when your cunt tightened around his cock. He kept still, his hand over your belly.

"Keep me in," he urged softly. "Do not move."

You forced open your eyes and looked up at him. Jolts of pleasure still licked up your spine. Mairon himself was gilded in the silvery light of the stars. He never looked more beautiful than at that moment. "More," you plead, "Please."

Mairon chuckled. "Then let me take you home. I plan on ruining you, wife."

Tags: @cilil @wandererindreams @edensrose @asianbutnotjapanese

#Mairon #Mairon smut #mairon imagine #Mairon x reader #x reader #reader insert request #the silmarillion #the silm #the silm imagine #The silm smut #The valar #The ainur #The maiar #fanfiction #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

76 notes · View notes

enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog · 10 months

Text

~The Best Of Intentions ~

**Smut with plot ahead. Ye be warned.

Chapter 17

Thorin woke only when the rays of the late morning sun caressed his face. He breathed in deeply, and a glorious scent hit his nose as something tickled his face. The fog of heavy sleep fled as he realized it was Mistlynn's warm scent of cinnamon laced with vanilla. He grinned sleepily as the previous night flashed through his mind.

She was tucked up tight against him, her head resting on his chest with her legs tangled in his. His arm was wrapped around her, his other hand splayed out on the soft skin of her bared hip. He leaned his face down, burying himself into her wild curls, savoring her scent and closeness as his arm tightened around her while pulling her closer to him.

Mistlynn let out a dreamy sigh, raising her knee so that she grazed his morning erection. He could not help but groan lowly at her from the contact, prompting a sleepy giggle to bubble from her lips.

"Mmhhhmm good morning, Yasun." She purred into his chest as her fingers traced a trail from his abs, past his chest and up his neck.

"Minx." He growled playfully into her ear before nipping her earlobe, prompting a squeal from her much to his delight. He skillfully pinned her beneath him as she giggled and tried to squirm out from underneath him. "And where do you think you're going." He breathed huskily into her neck as he started to tease her neck with his mouth.

Her eyes nearly fluttered shut at the intoxicating feeling of him lavishing her with his lips and tongue, but the moment was soon lost when his hand brushed down to the side of her ribcage and he started to tickle her. She gasped and squealed as she fought against him. She wrapped her legs around his middle and quickly flipped him on to his back, leaving her to straddle him victoriously.

He was laughing with a carefree smile on his face as he looked up at her through hooded eyes. The sight of her straddling him, her gloriously naked female form highlighted beautifully in the late morning light.

"Do you yield, My King?" She tightened the grip of her thighs against his midriff, arching her back teasingly so that the firm muscles of her ass rubbed his length.

He couldn't help the groan that fell from his lips at her movement, his hands gripping her muscular thighs tightly cradling him in response. "Mahal, you play dirty M'eudail." He panted, unable to take his eyes off her.

"What are you going to do about it?" She ran her nails up his body, making his breath hitch as she leaned over him, her ravished curls falling over shoulders and curtaining their faces. The warm sunlight made her curls glow like sun-bleached gold, enticing him to reach up and pull one gently before tangling his thick fingers into the glowing tresses.

He grasped the base of her neck right before he let out a deep growl, wrapping his other hand around her waist and flipping her over onto her back. "I am going to ravish my wife for being such a teasing minx." he said with a coy smile and a wink before molding his lips to hers. Mistlynn eagerly returned his kiss with an urgent hunger that had nothing to do with food.

A significant amount of time later….

Boneless, was the only word that could come to his mind as he lay there sweaty and breathless. The sex was mind-blowing, each time better than the last. She was an insatiable goddess that wrecked him each time she pushed him over the edge. It was apparent that she was going to challenge him in the bedroom just as much as she did in every other aspect of their life together. He loved her fire and drive. He always knew he wouldn't want a wife who was soft spoken and submissive. Amid their passion, she made him feel like he was invincible. The ghosts of his past were cast out into the far reaches of his mind by her light. For the first time in his life, his insecurities were silent. With her by his side, he could do anything.

"What is going through your head Kurdun? I can just see the wheels spinning."

He looked over at her with a disarming smile on his lips. She was laying on her side, propped up on her elbow as she looked down at him curiously.

"A great many things." He drawled, his voice sultry. He folded his arms behind his head and reclined back, perfectly relaxed against their pillows.

"Oh, is that so? Don't keep me in suspense." Intrigued, she looked at him expectantly.

He chuckled, obviously pleased with his current mindset. "I was thinking about the noises." He flashed his best troublemaker grin as he looked at her, his eyes bright with mischief.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Noises?" she muttered, before her eyes widened as she recalled the prior night and her nervous rant. She blushed as embarrassment flooded her face.

"Yes, noises. I believe you had some concerns about unpleasant noises during certain activities."

She grabbed the pillow that was underneath her and threw it at him, his laugh filling his belly from her reaction. She began throwing them repeatedly, only making him laugh harder as he grabbed the pillow to stop her assault. "You are such a brute." She growled, as she fought against his grip.

His laughter made it hard for her to remain embarrassed as he wrestled her back onto the bed, straddling on top of her, caging her hands above her head as he ripped the pillow from her grasp.

A loud tearing sound interrupted their tug of war as the pillow ripped and a cloud of white feathers burst into the air around them.

She gasped in surprise as she was momentarily blinded by feathers, allowing him the chance to take his free hand undoing the front of her shift to release her breasts, leaning down pulling and sucking on them with his mouth, making her shudder under his touch.

"I am particularly fond of the noises you make when I'm moving deep inside you, claiming your body over and over again." He chuckled darkly, his lips caressing against her sensitive skin. Mistlynn gasped, the feathers falling silently around them forgotten immediately as he moved his head slowly kissing down her body "Mine." He growled as he sank down to her increasingly wet folds.

She moaned breathlessly at the sensation of his beard scratching and tickling in between the soft skin of her thighs.

She let out a cry as he ran his tongue up the lips of her slit before he began sucking on her bundle of nerves, stroking that sensitive tender spot repeatedly.

She squirmed and bucked her hips, the pleasure overwhelming her senses. "Thorin it's too much. I can't take it."

"You can M'eudail…I promise." Is all he said before diving back into her, sucking harder and stroking her faster with his tongue, devouring her as he pushed her pleasure higher and higher. Her climax shattered without warning; a sharp overwhelming release quaked through her body as her pleasure gushed out of her. Mistlynn panted breathlessly as her orgasm washed over her, leaving Thorin looking up at her from between her legs with a sexy, crooked smile as he coaxed her through her orgasm.

He took his sweet time as he kissed back up her stomach with lustful purpose. He was stopped in his tracks by her stomach gurgling loudly, rumbling under his lips. He chuckled at her groan as she squirmed underneath him. He looked up at her, amused. "Hungry, My Queen?"

"No, no. I'm fine." She groaned in frustration. It was a blatant lie, she was starving. But food wasn't a priority of hers at that moment. Her stomach rumbled again in contradiction.

"I should probably feed you first before I continue to ravish you." He teased, as he released her hands and pushed himself up and scooted to the edge of the bed. "We can't have you starving now, can we? I need you properly fed, and energy replenished for all that I plan to do to you."

With a cocky wink he was up. "I'll be right back." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her pursed lips.

She pouted dramatically as she watched him put on his robe, still laying on her back on the bed surrounded by feathers.

They ate their meal together, joking about how their bed appeared to be the location of a great battle where many a valiant duck lost their down. It was utterly ridiculous, the story they weaved together as they collected the feathers and stuffed them back in the ruined pillowcase, only to dissolve into peals of soundless laughter when he reached into her tussled hair and pulled out the feathers that had been concealed in her tangled curls.

"They blend in!" he snickered as he started looking closer, only to find more in her wild locks.

"My hair is a disaster; it's going to take hours to comb through it.' She winced as her fingers were caught in a large tangle close to her scalp. "You made a right mess of it, you and your grabby hands." She accused teasingly.

"You should let me braid it, so I have something to hold on to." He whispered hotly into her shoulder before placing a kiss there. She could feel his lips curl against her skin into that sensual smile she was hopelessly addicted to as she tipped her head back to rest against him.

She hummed as she felt his fingers gently brush through her tresses. "That would be nice actually." She sighed as she nuzzled his neck directly under his jaw. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before sitting up to get off the bed again.

She watched him walk over to the dresser to gather a comb, hair oil and ties before walking back over to her. He settled behind her and started to gently section her hair. She hummed contentedly as he worked through her curls gently with a practiced ease.

She took this time to study the room around her, taking in all the details that had been hidden in the dark of the previous night. It was larger than she had expected, with large windows looking over the vast valley below them onto Dale and the glittering waters of the lake. A cohesive balance of the dark green and grey marble and a dark wood surrounded her. Floor to ceiling bookshelves were carved into the mountain and filled with old books and various weapons of ancient origin.

The furniture was of the same dark wood, elegantly carved and cushioned with rich oiled leather and metal studs. The only thing she recognized of his was Orcist and Deathless that were hanging in their new spots by an impressive desk by one of the big windows and door that led out to their private balcony. Besides his weapons, nothing of personal touch was evident.

"How long have you been in these rooms?" she asked, surprised that his office had a more personal touch than his own room.

"Since last night." He chuckled, not pausing in his task of taming her wild locks.

"Are we here just for our honeymoon then?"

"No, these are now our private quarters. I was going to let you pick the finishing touches to our home."

"Why were you not staying in here before?"

"These were my grandparents' quarters before Smaug came. When we reclaimed Erebor, I just stayed in my old rooms. Didn't see the point of moving in here when it was just me." His fingers were deftly braiding her hair, having removed all the tangles with a quick ease that surprised her.

The idea of them being the first to inhabit these rooms in over a century made a shiver of excitement run down her spine. She was only wearing his dark blue tunic from the night before since he ruined her shift during one of their passionate trysts. "I want to look around. I didn't realize how big it was last night. My handsome husband kept distracting me."

Thorin chuckled as he finished her long braid. "Very well. Look around and tell me what you wish to change."

She ran her hand down her elaborate braid and looked back at him in surprise. "Dis taught me. It's her favorite braid style." He wiggled his eyebrows, making her giggle.

"You're just full of surprises Kurdun." She kissed him soundly before getting up from the bed and stretching. His tunic hem reached her mid-thigh, allowing him to admire the creamy skin and feminine curve of her legs. One shoulder was exposed as the tunic slouched to one side as she allowed the sleeves to hang long over hands. She swung her arms as she walked around the room leisurely, taking in everything. She stopped at the shelving closest to the fireplace, studying the old weapons placed there. "Where these your grandfathers?" She asked, as she ran a finger along the dwarven sword, tracing the designs etched into the hilt.

"Yes." Was his simple reply as he sat on the bed, watching her explore. She knew he was admiring the view of her wearing his shirt, and she reveled in the knowledge that he still couldn't get enough of her.

"What was he like? You're Grandfather?"

The smile that was playing with her lips slowly disappeared as she turned to look at him over her shoulder and saw the distant and sad expression that flashed across his eyes. A melancholy smile graced his features as he looked down at his hands, fiddling with one of the rings that was on his hand. It was a signet ring, one that he undoubtedly inherited from his grandfather. She immediately regretted asking her question. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried. Forgive me."

He looked up at her sharply, his sadness vanishing instantly. "There is nothing to forgive M'eudail." He got up from the bed and walked over to her. "You have every right to ask that question." He sighed as he stood beside her, looking at the sword before he picked it up, and held it firmly in his grasp. "Dis brought his sword back with her from Ered Luin when she joined us here after the Battle of the Five Armies."

He twirled it nimbly in his hand, the ancient blade gleaming in the sunlight. "He was a mighty warrior. He taught me everything he knew when it came to fighting. He was an attentive grandfather, telling us stories of his adventures as a young Dwarrow, of all the trouble he and his brothers caused." His smile was faint, his eyes far away in memory. "He had a booming laugh, and he loved to sing. He loved music and loud parties. He adored my Grandmother, and often sat in the garden with her as she tended to her flowers. There isn't one happy moment in my childhood that doesn't have them both in it."

His expression became pained, prompting her to reach out and grab his free hand as he continued to stare at the blade, lost in painful memory. As her fingers intwined with his, he squeezed her hand, drawing comfort from her touch. "It was gradual at first, just quick little moments where he seemed to forget himself. Before we knew it, he was spending most of his time in the treasury just walking amongst it all in this fever like daze. He became short tempered and selfish. He became suspicious of everyone, even his own kin, of trying to steal from him. By the time Smaug came, he was no longer my Grandfather. He wasn't even upset that my Grandmother and Mother didn't make it out of Erebor when it fell, he could only mourn the loss of the Arkenstone." His jaw clenched at the memory. Snapping out of it he quickly placed the sword back on the shelf, as if it was burning his hand as he held it.

"The Arkenstone?" she repeated, trying to piece what he just told her with the little bit Ori and Balin had told her in their lessons.

"The King's Jewel." Thorin growled, as he looked down at their joined hands. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he swallowed the words thickly as if he couldn't bring himself to speak them allowed.

"What happened to the Arkenstone?" She breathed, unable to tear her eyes from him. He sighed, running his hand over his face as a familiar mask slipped back in place, the carefree dwarf she had been having the time of her life with vanished behind the stoic façade of the Mountain King.

She stood directly in front of him and grasped his face in her hands. "Kardun, look at me." She ordered.

"You want me to open to you? You must trust me as well. It is just us here, you don't need to hide yourself from me."

He looked deeply into her eyes as he processed her words. After a moment he signed resignedly. "I had Balin lock it away, deep in the vault. It made m …MY Grandfather …sick."

"Dragon sickness?" She furrowed her eyebrows at his stutter and quick correction.

He nodded sharply. "Yes. It drove him insane, even without it in his possession he could never shake the control it had over him. It led him to believe that reclaiming Moria from the Goblins and Orcs was our people's salvation. He led our people into a massacre. He was slain by Azog first, then Frerin, Vili, Fundin, so many were killed, and my Adad …" His voice cracked with a long-repressed emotion that was fighting to emerge.

She reached up to grasp the back of his head and pulled him down to her. "Balin told me how you rallied your people, how you faced Azog and showed him you don't fuck around with the line of Durin."

Her coarseness made him smile faintly, despite the pain of the past swirling like a storm in his eyes. "Those were Balin's exact words?"

"I was paraphrasing, but you're missing my point." She smiled broadly as she nuzzled his nose with hers before capturing his lips in a soul searing kiss. It wasn't long before they were battling for dominance, lost in a clash of tongues and teeth as they devoured each other. Her hands were fisted in his tunic as she pulled him towards her as she walked backwards, seeking a flat surface to christen.

She stumbled into the desk by the window, causing her to smile against his mouth and giggle in victory as she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips before burying her hands into his hair. He growled hungrily into her mouth as he placed her upon the surface of the desk, running his hands up her bare thighs and spreading them wider so that he could step in-between them.

He continued to rub his hands on her thighs, slowly pushing the tunic higher and higher until it couldn't be raised any higher. His hands wrapped around to her ass and pulled her closer to the edge of the desk to have her flush with him.

He began to lavish her exposed shoulder with kisses. "I must say, I am partial to you wearing nothing but my shirt."

She giggled, running her leg up the back of his before wrapping it around his waist. "Really? That's funny because I prefer you shirtless." She grasped the opening of his shirt and ripped it forcefully down the middle.

He raised his eyebrows at she pushed the ruined shirt off his shoulders, a cat like grin on her face. "Actually, my first request as your wife and Queen, is that you are to never wear a shirt in this room. The moment the door is closed, shirt off immediately."

His mischievous smirk made her core clench. He placed his palms down on the desk and leaned forward, flexing his shoulders tauntingly. He noticed her eyes darken as she watched his muscular shoulders and arms flex and ripple under his tattooed skin. She bit her bottom lip, and he felt his cock grow hard. "Are you ogling me M'eudail?"

She ran her fingers down his chest, enjoying the feeling of his ab muscles clench under her exploration until she reached her goal, and unlaced his trousers before gripping his length. "So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?"

A snarl ripped out of his throat as he picked her up and laid her on her back before him. Her chest was heaving in excitement as she looked up at him through hooded eyes. He let his pants fall to the floor, releasing his straining length to bob against his stomach. She licked her lips in anticipation as he grabbed her from behind her knees and pulled her closer to him. He guided her legs up into the air and placed her ankles on his shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you until you are screaming my name." he growled between kisses he planted heatedly down her leg.

She moaned loudly as she felt him heavy against her throbbing entrance. He pushed himself through her slick folds, making her pant with need. "For the love of Mahal, stop teasing me." She hissed as her fingers clenched tightly around his forearms.

"As you wish." He purred before he sunk his length into her hot depths. Mistlynn gasped at the sudden fullness, her back bowing off the table at the intensity of him filling her completely in this new position.

"Gods, you feel so good, so hot, so tight." He gritted out as he picked up a thorough pace that stretched her completely, reaching deeper inside her than they both thought possible.

Her breathy moans soon became desperate mewls of rapture, fueling him to snap his hips into her at a faster pace. It wasn't long until he felt her fluttering around him. "T-Thorin! Oh, Thorin, don't stop!"

"I can feel you M'eudail. Are you going to cum for me?" his deep voice was raspy, prickling along her skin and adding to her ecstasy.

"Y-yes! Gods, Thorin Yes!" her cries grew louder with each thrust of his hips.

'Louder! Scream my name!" he commanded as he watched her squirm on the quaking desk in desperation.

"T-Thorin!" a shuddering scream escaped her trembling lips as her orgasm seized her, fiery waves of her pleasure rolling through her body.

Thorin's orgasm surprised him as her body seized tightly around him, milking him fully with each shockwave of pleasure that radiated from deep within her. He leaned over her, sweaty and panting as she collapsed in a trembling heap on the desk. His head rested on her heaving stomach, allowing them both to collect themselves as they came down from their high.

"I thought we were going to break the desk." She gasped, as she ran her hand absentmindedly through his thick black hair.

"I'm surprised we didn't." He huffed with a chuckle before placing a loving kiss on her trembling stomach before pushing himself up, making the desk creak loudly with the sudden shift of additional weight. A loud thud from underneath the desk made them look at each other in surprise before they started laughing.

"We did break it!" Mistlynn giggled as she watched him step back so that he could crouch down to see where the sound came from.

"There is a hidden compartment that just dropped open!" she heard him exclaim in surprise, prompting her to sit up and slide off the desk onto shaky legs.

He crawled back out from underneath the desk, with an old leather book clasped in his hand. "How odd." He murmured as he studied it in his hands.

"Why would someone hide a book in a secret compartment?" Mistlynn was standing alongside him, looking around his arm down at the book.

He gently opened it, allowing the stiff yellowed pages to flutter open on a random page. His eyes grew wide as he recognized the handwriting on the page.

"What? What is it?" She placed her hand on his shoulder, concern lacing her tone as she watched surprise then that deep sadness return to his gaze as he began to flip through the pages.

"This is my grandfather's handwriting. It's his journal." Came his hushed reply, as if speaking louder would summon the past to join them in the room. "I didn't know he kept a journal." He spoke more to himself as he briefly scanned the pages. He blanched after a moment of skimming through the account before suddenly slamming it shut. He stared at the leather-bound volume as if it had personally offended him before he tossed it back onto the desk.

"Kardun?" she asked gently, rubbing her hand comfortingly along his shoulder blade.

He blinked rapidly before tearing his gaze away from the journal back towards her and into the present moment. She took note of the forced smile that curved his lips yet did not reach his eyes. "Its nothing. Just a surprise. I didn't realize he took the time to write."

She cocked her head slightly to the side, studying him before she kissed his shoulder, tracing the tattoo he had depicting the Crown of Durin softly with her finger. "I feel like a warm bath." She started to walk backwards slowly, her hand tracing down from his shoulder along his arm before intertwining her fingers with his. "Join me."

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @mrsdurin

#thorin oakenshield #erebor #hobbit thorin oakenshield #hobbit thorin oakenshield x oc fanfiction #thorin and company #thorin durin #thorin fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #thorin oakenshield smut #king thorin

51 notes · View notes