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vivwritescrappythings · 4 months

Text

Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready.

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd.

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives.

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now.

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere.

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime.

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back.

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance.

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth.

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said.

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.”

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair.

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself.

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat.

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor.

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine.

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger.

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding.

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.”

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight.

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her.

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car.

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close.

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed.

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth.

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection.

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare.

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside.

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist.

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear.

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers.

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms.

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up.

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth.

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart.

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him.

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks.

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you.

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey.

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up.

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped.

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat.

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice.

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge.

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him.

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge.

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you.

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further.

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside.

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you.

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach.

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.”

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat.

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself.

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it.

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us #reader insert #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #tlou hbo #pedro pascal sag awards #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x fem!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Winter's King 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: it's saturday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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You follow the king into the great hall. Despite the sun beaming in through the open doors and the chirping of sparrows from the courtyard, it is a dour affair.

King Geralt marches across the hall as you stand by a tall candelabra near the door. It remains unlit as the summer lights much of the space through the long windows and broad doors. He approaches the bishop in his robe and sash and points the man with a terse grunt. Lord Dustan and Lady Rozlyn stand behind the cleric, looking fraught.

“Where is the bride?” The king growls as his golden eyes skim the stone walls.

“Your highness, we’ve just called for her--”

“She is aware of our impending nuptials, she would keep her betrothed waiting?” The king rebukes, “you summer souls and your flimsy spines.”

The duchess twitches in offence but does not rebuff the insult. The wine has subsided well enough to allow her some sense. Lord Dustan’s lips press tight and he claps.

“My daughter, at once,” he hisses in your direction.

Before you can turn on your sole, the king grunts, “fetch her yourself. How can I trust you to keep my kingdom in order if you cannot bring the same to your own house?”

“Yes, your highness,” Dustan blanches, “it was only I thought it would be swifter to send the maid.”

“It would be swifter if you stilled your tongue,” King Geralt barks.

The duke recoils and hurries off. Your eyes meet the king’s and he gives a slight tilt of his head and you resume your plaintive stance. Lady Rezlyn looks him up and down before she withdraws her gaze and instead focuses on the portrait of her husband’s predecessor.

The air grows stagnant as you wait. When at last a stirring comes from above, the king is gripping the dagger on his belt. He is not impressed with the delay.

“Father, I am here, I am here, unhand me,” Lady Jazlene blusters in ahead of the duke. She wears the red and ivory and matching ribbons have been braided into her curls. She has several necklaces piled around her neck and her hands are adorned in tones of silver and gold. “I am ready,” she sighs as she approaches the bishop and face the king, “it is not the wedding I dreamt of but for a king, I might settle.”

King Geralt’s golden eyes narrow. He looks through his bride and she wavers on her feet as she reaches for him. He does not offer his hand nor his arm before he faces the bishop.

“The vows,” the king demands flatly.

“Er,” the bishop falters and searches the chamber.

“Where is the writ?” The king hisses, “do you not have a scribe?”

“Here, your highness, here,” Dustan waves to a squire waiting near the outer doors. “It only requires ink and seal, after the vows of course.”

The king exhales hotly and faces the bishop again, signaling with a curt flick of his fingertips. You only then notice Merinda across from you, she must’ve followed the noble daughter in. She exchanges a glance with you, she is not more amused than King Geralt.

“Ahem,” the bishop adjusts his tall cap, “let us begin. We commune here today to--” The king waves his hand dismissively and the cleric flinches. “Hm, uh, sir, your highness, my lord, King Geralt, of Rivia and the Hinterlands, and the Summer countries,” he stutters as his eyes droop, “do you swear, by the sacred rites and the laws of the realm, to take this woman in blessed matrimony? To attend to your duties as husband and keeper, until death?”

The ceremony is as brusque as anything the king does. He does not have time or patience for the pageantry or prolonged talking. His shoulders rise with his breath and he heaves out, “I make this vow.”

“And, Lady Jazlene, daughter of Debray, do you swear, by the sacred rites and the laws of the realm, to take this man in blessed matrimony? To attend to your duties as wife and servant, until death?”

Jazlene sniffles and makes a show of blotting her face with her sleeve. Her mother blubbers from the side and Lord Dustan hushes her. Their threatrics are almost humourous amid the solemn air. King Geralt rumbles and stares over the bishop’s head.

“I... I make... I make this vow,” Jazlene bawls and pulls out a handkerchief from her bosom. She covers her nose and wipes away her tears. “I shall love the king and serve him better than any w-w-wife.”

The bishop hesitates as he looks between the bride and groom. He nods and beckons forth Lord Dustan, “so we will seal this marriage in ink and wax. Sign your names and let the royal stamp be applied to set in bond your fates until the black night sees you to rest.”

Dustan comes forward with the parchment and signals to another unseen figure. A servant brings forth a quill and well as the contract is laid out on the table near the wall. The king approaches as Jazlene weeps at his side, trailing after him as she trembles. The king signs first, with a slash of the quill, then Jazlene barely keeps hold of the pen as she loops her name across the rough surface.

She drops the feather and fans herself. She looks around, preening, and grabs onto the king’s arm, “so we are married.”

He doesn’t react. He turns without acknowledgement as she stays latched on, pulled forth by his easy strength. His gaze touches yours as you watch the strange and strained scene. This is unlike any wedding you’ve ever seen, though you haven’t seen a noble one in all your life. Only the whispered vows of servants behind the stables or in the meadows. Those ones that are only written in spirit.

His eyes quickly flit away and he sets his sight on the doorway beside you. He walks forward with his bride dragging on his arm. His mail jostles loudly with his steps as his soles scuff.

“Let the marriage be consummated,” he mutters without look back, “you will be ready to travel at dawn.”

“Your highness?” Dustan stumbles forward, “dawn?”

“Husband, am I to come with you?” Jazlene murmurs.

“A kingdom must be rebuilt,” King Geralt states without inflection. “I will not rule over a resentful people, I will show them I fought for them, not against them. And you will follow through on your vows to me or find I am not so weak as that fool, King Waleran.”

⚔️

You help Merinda with Lady Jazlene’s travel chest. You pack away as much as you can; shifts, nightclothes, gowns, stockings, all that you think she would like to take with her. The sudden departure allows you little time for ponderance, you only do as you must. As ever. So is life.

“She will hate it in the Hinterlands,” Merinda scoffs, “when I served for the earl, there was a man from the Winter Isles. He was missing fingers from the cold. He told me how they turned black and fell off.”

“Then she will need to find some mitts,” you shrug as you roll up a cloak. Much of the lady’s clothes are not suited to a colder climate. She has no furs; they are not needed in the Summer lands. Midsummer through to High Summer offer little more than a cooling rain between mild to sweltering highs.

“Perhaps she should bundle up against her husband too,” Merinda snickers, “he is icy as the tundras he hails from.”

“He is a king, he has much to worry for,” you sniff.

“Mm, I suppose, though he hardly ever looks concerned for anything. Speaks even less,” she muses, “I suppose Lady Jazlene will speak plenty for both of them.”

“Queen Jazlene,” you correct her bleakly.

“Oh, he should worry for that,” the other maid chuckles again. “Though I suppose now she will have all the gowns she likes.”

“Perhaps,” you allow.

“Let us prosper here without her demands. Where it is warm and sunny,” Merinda sighs.

“It will be rather quieter,” you agree.

You carry on until the chest is near overflowing. You sit on the lid as Merinda buckles the straps. You will need some male servants to come carry it to the stables. That should wait until morning. Lady Rezlyn bid you wait in her daughter’s chamber should she emerge from the king’s.

You pack a smaller chest for her jewels and her cosmetics, and a few books she’s worn down with her fingertips, and her sewing hoops and needles. Oft, she only holds onto those possessions as she gossips with her mother. You suppose that will be difficult. When the duchess and her husband return home and their daughter must face her obligation without ally.

There are servants like Merinda who might covet gems and pretty things, but you’ve never much envied the noble type. They have overly much responsibility. You only need swab a floor or lace a dress. Life could not be simpler.

“Hm,” she hums and gives a cluck of her tongue.

You wind up a length of ribbon and put it in the chest. You feel Merinda watching you. You look up and arch your brows. “What?”

She smiles, “you remind me of him.”

“Who?”

“The king,” she tinkles with laughter, “you are both so... quiet. You never say more than you need to. I can appreciate that given who we serve but you are a hard nut.”

“I don’t have much to say, suppose,” you reply. “Don’t know very much of the king, either.”

She’s quiet as you carry on. You assume some things will need to be sent after the lady; the queen. It will be a long journey and not one which you think would entail many banquets. It’s a scary unknown ahead of Lady Jazlene, though it is overdue.

When the smaller chest is full, you and Merinda lift it onto the larger. It is late and the night hue surrounds you as only a single flame is lit. You yawn intermittently but neither of you dare lay down to sleep. You wouldn’t want to be accused of idleness.

You sit on the window bench and watch the moon as Merinda paces through shadows. You rest your chin in your hand but only for a moment as suddenly the hinges groan and cut through the din. You stand as Merinda faces the door sharply.

Lady Jazlene drifts in. The ribbons in her hair are loose and her dress is still laced tight, though her skirts are rumbled and wrinkled. She leaves the door ajar behind her as she ambles stiffly towards the bed. She turns to fall onto the bench at the foot of the four-post frame.

She doesn’t speak as she stares ahead. Merinda shuts the door as you inch towards the noble woman. She offers no reaction as you hover near her. She presses her hands above her knees and shudders out a breath.

“My lady,” Merinda speaks first, glancing at you cautiously, “your highness, would you... would you like a bath?”

Jazlene doesn’t answer. Her head moves subtly back and forth then dips again. She balls fabric in her fists.

“I did what mother said,” she croaks, “and... I was... I was aroused. I was ready...” she murmurs.

You and Merinda stand in silence. You’ve never heard the noble daughter speak so smally. She lifts her head.

“I did it. I did my duty,” she declares, “but he...” she rises and you back away as she sweeps around the bed, a hitch in her step. She goes to the mirror and leans in, touching her cheeks, turning her head this way and that, “I’m beautiful, aren’t I? Mother says, father says... but the king... the king...”

She blows out her breath and is silent. She spins and clutches her bodice. She looks down at herself.

“He didn’t even let me take this off,” she babbles, “then he just... sent me away.” She puts her hand to her chest, “a bath? Did you say a bath?” She looks at Merinda, “yes, I must wash. Wash it all away.” She clears her throat and drops her hand, rolling her shoulders, “tomorrow we must leave--” her voice catches, “I must go to my new home with my...” she puts her back to you and sits on the cushioned seat before the vanity, “...husband.”

You nod to Merinda and cross the room to meet her at the door. You share a look, one which doesn’t need conversation. Even though she’s laid with a man, your fellow maid looks distressed. You go out into the hall, pulling shut the door gently in the nocturnal dim.

“Do you think he was cruel?” Merinda asks.

“It isn’t our concern, is it? It is a wife’s duty...” you whisper, uncertain.

“It was her first,” Merinda remarks, “perhaps she was unready.”

“We shouldn’t speak of it,” you gird.

“You needn’t be so chaste,” she reproaches, “if I didn’t know her wrath, I might even feel sorry for the lady.”

“Mer,” you warn again, “let us get some water for the bath.”

Merinda chuffs, “you are so... boring.”

You walk away from her, ignoring her chiding. You don’t care if she thinks you dull. It isn’t your place to judge the marital matters of the lady and her husband. It is even dangerous to gossip over royal business. You will not chance it.

She follows. You descend and go to boil a pot in the kitchen. Merinda lights several candles as you go to work. You carry the large vessel between you. Several trips up and down to fill the large tub. Merinda undresses Jazlene as you go to return the pot.

You place it near the fire stove as the embers burn low and orange. You stand in front of it, the cindery scent tinging your nostrils. You should go back but unease lingers in your gut. The way Jazlene just stared, how hollow she sounded, you’ve never seen her like that.

The candles behind you flicker and you turn to the swirling shadows. There’s a figure just inside the doorway, almost ghostly, much too towering to be the cook. You gulp and fold your hands against your stomach.

“Hello?” You utter to what must be a wraith.

There is no answer, the silhouette merely moves towards you. You steel yourself, a scream caught in your throat. The tint of the fire stove reflects off golden irises and the king’s figure comes clearer in the night. You suck in air and steady your feet.

“Your highness,” you gasp.

“Ale,” he sneers.

“Yes, your highness, I will fetch--”

“To my chambers,” he demands, looming over you.

“Yes, your highness, ale, at once,” you go to spin and he grabs onto your arm, drawing you back. He grips tightly, squeezing as he pulls you into the haze of warmth radiating from him. Or perhaps that is the oven.

He holds you, puffing out breaths as he glares down at you. You’re trapped in his simmering sights. You look up at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. He lets out a low snarl and slowly releases you.

“I hate these summer lands,” he grumbles as you stagger back.

You still and stare as he backs away. He turns on his heel and stalks towards the door, leaving you in frightful curiosity. You open and close your fingers, your forearm tingling from his firm grasp. You rub it through your sleeve as you spin towards the cellar. You will be certain to grab a full cask for the king’s thirst.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the witcher #series #winter's king #au #medieval au

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Playing with Fire (part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: Your wedding approaches along with the bedding ceremony and wedding night. Your husband has a delicious surprise prepared.

warnings: 18+ nsfw, explicit spicy scenes (p in v, all the bases being covered, oral, fingering), do not interact if you don't want spice

word count: 3.7k

note: thanks for being patient, I hope this gives you all the spicy feels!

read more of my work here! 💚

“I cannot believe this day has come,” your mother says, with tears in her eyes as she smoothes the gown you wear.

It is beautiful, a creamy ivory color made of silks that cling to every curve of your body, the skirts cascading towards the floor.

“Now, my darling,” your mother says, clasping her hands in yours, “there are responsibilities you need to attend to tonight.”

The bedding ceremony. When the lords and ladies who attend the feast tear at the bride and groom, ripping the silks from their bodies like paper from a package. Gooseflesh appears as you think about it.

“The marriage bed is nothing to be afraid of,” your mother assures you, eyes kind and warm.

You feel conflicted with the different stories you have heard from other ladies losing their maidenheads.

“Prince Aegon shall be kind to you,” your mother says, stroking your cheek.

Will he? Aegon is many things, but kind you are not sure is one of them. In fact, Aemond had told you as much.

The wedding ceremony itself is a blur, a whirlwind of silks and smiles as you are carted to the castle sept and presented before Aegon. You feel as though you are in a dream as he places the cloak of House Targaryen on your back.

Now you suppose you are a dragon as well.

Aegon smiles at you and kisses you sweetly as a prince should when your vows are spoken. His eyes are lustful, his smile predatory. Now he has you in his jaws, your neck stuck between his teeth. The feeling both terrifies and excites you.

“Congratulations, my lady,” Aemond says, giving you a soft smile later at the feast.

Your heart flutters hearing his voice. Aemond was rather stoic during the ceremony, keeping off to the side alongside his sister Helaena. You had tried speaking to him after your engagement was announced, but there never seemed to be time. Aemond was an evasive creature, hard to catch like one of Helaena’s butterflies.

“Aemond,” you breathe him in, “many thanks, my prince.”

You stand beside him in silence for a moment as the feast continues around you. Aemond places his hands behind his back as you take a sip from your cup.

“I must admit, I did not expect to be chosen,” you tell him, warm from the wine.

“You are an excellent choice,” Aemond insists, causing you to blush.

“You are too kind, my prince,” you tell him, “your flattery shall go to my head.”

“I should hope so,” Aemond says, causing you to look at him.

He notices your empty cup, before wrapping his fingers around it, expelling it from your grip. His fingers leave a tingling sensation behind on your own.

“You are a delightful woman, you should be understanding of that,” he continues, giving the cup to a servant who passes by.

You bashfully glance toward the floor. Aemond was a kind man, something you felt ashamed to admit you never thought of before meeting him. The tales of the cold prince fluttered throughout the ladies of court just as much as Aegon’s lecherous reputation.

“Are you nervous about your wedding night?” Aemond asks, and you feel yourself blush.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” you ask and he chuckles.

“You needn’t be afraid, my lady,” Aemond assures you.

There is a look in his violet eye, as though he is sure of the words he speaks. Without a shadow of a doubt in his mind that he speaks the truth. You wet your lips, looking toward the head table. Aegon is seated, a goblet of wine dangling from his fingers. He has just finished speaking with his mother when his gaze falls on you and Aemond.

Aegon’s eyes are half-lidded, and a lazy smile appears on his face revealing his teeth. A dragon lapping its jaws. His eyes flicker from you to Aemond, before he raises his goblet, as though toasting you both. You can feel your face drain of color.

You do hope you have not upset him.

“I suppose I should attend to my husband,” you tell Aemond, who nods in agreement. His gaze flickers about your face, as though attempting to read your thoughts.

Aegon stands when you reach him, arm lacing around your waist.

“What says, my brother?” Aegon murmurs, placing a kiss below your ear causing you to shiver.

“He wished to share his congratulations,” you inform him, as his hand reaches to stroke your cheek, maneuvering himself so he can continue to kiss your neck.

Something you’ve begun to learn about Aegon is that it is never just one kiss, a trail of them follows.

“Mhmm,” Aegon seems pleased by your answer, continuing his adoration of your neck, down to your collarbone.

You feel the color returning to your face, and spot Aemond watching from across the room. So very strange, you think to yourself, to always be passed between the stares of the dragon princes.

Later that night, the door closes behind Aegon, clicking shut.

Aegon circles you; he is a predator finally cornering his prey. His eyes hungrily indulge in your form that shows through your sheer shift. Your gown had been removed long ago, as lords prepared you for the bedding.

A chaotic moment it was, to feel tens of hands on you, pulling and tearing at the fabrics of your gowns, pulling the ornaments from your hair. Aegon was stripped as well, Cassandra Baratheon had pushed herself to the front helping herself to tear at the laces of his breeches.

Your skin feels hot under Aegon’s gaze now as you stand so bare before him, as though his eyes produce dragonfire searing your flesh.

You wonder if you’ll ever stop feeling this burning for him.

Aegon walks over to you, only wearing a loose white shirt. He reaches for a cup that lies on the table, taking a quick sip, before holding it out to you.

You take it from him, mirroring his actions.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, voice rough with desire. He is clearly holding himself back from ravishing you on the stone floor.

You feel your cheeks grow warm. This is it, this is truly happening. You find yourself nodding, eyes cast toward the floor. You wish you were not so shy, so embarrassed under his gaze. You know his experience, and you wonder what he expects of you.

Aegon clicks his tongue, placing a finger underneath your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“There is no need to be,” he assures you, giving you a comforting grin.

You cannot help but smile back, there is something about Aegon that does that. He melts the fear from your body like freshly fallen snow. He cups your cheek with his hand, bringing your mouth to his.

The kiss is passionate, he slices your lips open with his tongue before plunging it into your mouth. The feeling of his tongue in your mouth sends a sharp feeling of desire trickling down your navel to the place beneath your small clothes. Aegon’s hands are very busy, the one that guides your face trails down to hold your waist, pressing you against him while the other cups your bottom.

All the while he is walking you backward, toward the bed. He is very skilled; you cannot help but notice how easy it is for him to guide you, to touch and squeeze you in places that have you gasping against his mouth.

“Do not be afraid,” Aegon murmurs, “I prepared this evening with only your utmost pleasure in mind.”

As he says this, his fingers find their way underneath your shift, touching you through your small clothes. He lets out a moan at the wetness he finds there, before pushing his fingers past the barrier, stroking them through your silky folds.

You let out a dramatic whine, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the lewd sound. Aegon merely takes this as encouragement, teasing at your entrance with his finger.

“I have to get you ready,” he tells you, through his kisses, before pushing a finger into your constricting, wet heat.

He curls the digit within you, pressing his thumb against the sensitive bud that lies at the top of your folds, causing you to writhe against him at the newfound bliss.

“That’s it,” he says, drinking in your mewls and moans, before slipping a second finger inside of you.

“Aegon, oh,” you moan against his mouth as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, slowly working you open. He sinks his teeth into your lower lip and something peaks inside of you, causing pleasure to roll across your skin, down your spine, all the way to your toes.

Your legs wobble, as Aegon leads you toward the bed, tearing your shift over your head, leaving you naked before him. His eyes trail down your figure, truly devouring you as though a man famished. A smile breaks out across his face.

“Lay back, my love,” he instructs, removing the remainder of his clothes as you obey him.

He climbs on top of you, kissing you again, lips trailing down your neck, over the swell of your breasts. He lavishes the peaks of your breasts with attention, tongue swirling around your nipples. You can feel his cock nudging at your entrance and take a breath.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, kissing the tip of your nose, “I’m right here with you, bite on me if you need.”

You nod as he begins to push into you, the stretch causing you to gasp. It is much more than his fingers, and you find yourself taking him up on his offer, sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

Aegon whines at this, hips slapping against you. The pain ebbs at that moment, a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

You make love like that for quite some time, Aegon finding his release, emptying his seed deep within your womb. But he is not a man easily satisfied. Nearly moments after his release, his cock hardens, and he turns you around on your hands and knees to take you as though he is more beast than man.

You do not mind, the new position sends moans pouring from your mouth as he plows you into the feathered pillows.

There is a sharp knock on the door, causing your head to snap up. You turn slightly to look behind you at Aegon, panic flashing across your face. His smile is wide as he continues to drill into you so hard your arms shake trying to hold yourself up.

“Enter!” Aegon calls.

“Aegon!” you desperately call, earning a sharp slap on your backside.

What the seven hells is he doing?

The door is heard opening, and footsteps in the antechamber. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you can’t stop whimpering as Aegon’s cock splits you in two.

“Come in, come in,” Aegon says, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts harder, faster.

Your eyes are wide as you hold up your lolling head, prepared to meet the eyes of some knight who shall surely be utterly horrified at the sight of Prince Aegon ruining his new bride in this animalistic position.

You instead see Aemond Targaryen.

Shame courses through you, and you feel as though your entire body has ignited in flames. You meet his eye but quickly look away, letting your elbows fall into the feather mattress. Aegon’s strokes slow, but do not stop.

“Brother,” he says, rather formally, “was there something you needed?”

Aemond is staring at you, watching as you try to hide your face, your body from him.

“My lady,” Aemond addresses you directly. Always a polite man. Seven hells.

You do not answer, fingers clutching the sheets of the bed. Perhaps Aegon can fuck you so hard into the mattress you shall disappear altogether. Aegon has different plans. He tangles a hand in your hair, lifting your head, and forcing you to look at Aemond.

“My brother addressed you, dearest,” Aegon says, “do not be rude.”

A whimper leaves your lips.

“My prince,” you someone managed to say, as Aegon has begun to increase the rhythm of his strokes.

Aemond nods, slowly walking closer to the bed. You do not know where to look, you wish he would not approach you. Surely whatever he needed could be attained at a different time.

“Tell me, my lady,” Aegon asks, “do you think me unobservant?”

His fingers dig into your waist, as he snaps forward. Your head is spinning from the pleasure, the embarrassment, the excitement, and the confusion. Surely you are dreaming.

“What?” you ask, voice a strangled moan.

“I see the way you look at him,” Aegon says, a matter of factly, “much like how you look at me.”

Aemond is right in front of you now, watching as Aegon plunges himself into you. Your breath comes in pants, sure that Aegon is displeased, that he means to punish you in some way.

“Do you like how my brother fucks you?” Aemond asks, bringing a hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

The question stuns you. Tears spring from the corner of your eyes.

“Yes!” you cry out and Aemond hums at your response.

“I told you Aegon was not usually kind,” Aemond said, letting his thumb stroke over your bottom lip; a shiver rolls through you.

“She likes it, brother,” Aegon says, snapping his hips against you.

“I do,” you moan in agreement, as Aegon’s cock massages a spot within you that makes your vision blur and your thighs tremble.

“That’s it,” Aegon says, bringing his hand towards the apex of your thighs, using your slick arousal to fondle the precious pearl that lies hidden there.

You release a moan, a tangled mess of both their names.

“Hear that brother?” Aemond teases, “even with you inside of her she calls for me.”

Aegon yanks you up by your hair, a deliciously painful sensation on your scalp as he drags you flush against him. He remains nestled inside of you, as his lips find your ear.

“Do you like him better?” Aegon taunts, placing a wet kiss on your neck. You can feel his smile; he is teasing you, taunting you.

“No..” you moan, “I want…I-”

How can you possibly tell them what you want? What you desire?

“What dear wife?” Aegon says, lazily thrusting up into you, “tell me what you desire and I shall make it so.”

You whimper against him, as he holds your hips guiding them up and down on his thick shaft.

“I want you both,” you murmur, an embarrassed whisper.

The brothers are silent for a moment, the sound of soft, wet slapping the only noise in the room despite the small whimpers that leave your mouth.

“You heard her,” Aegon says, causing your eyes to snap open.

“Say it again,” Aemond demands, still standing at the foot of the bed, watching you intently.

“I want you both,” you repeat, more confidently this time.

“Greedy, greedy wife,” Aegon purrs, as his hand curls around your breast.

He lifts you from his cock, twisting you onto your back before re-entering you, placing one of your legs on his shoulder so he can thrust into you deeper. Your head hangs from the side of the bed, as he pounds into you.

“What am I to do with such a greedy, lustful wife?” he taunts, placing a kiss on your breast, and stretching your hamstring until the burn is almost unbearable.

You wonder if this is what it shall be like to be married to a Targaryen, always a constant state of burning.

“Brother?” he calls, never relenting his strokes, “help me with my wife, will you?”

Aemond moves to the side of the bed, and within an instance, his breeches fall revealing his cock. It is not as thick as Aegon’s though it still has a girth that makes your eyes widen.

“Get him ready,” Aegon tells you when you do nothing but gawk at Aemond’s cock that stands erect in front of you.

“How?” you ask, unsure of the next steps.

“With your mouth,” Aegon directs, “get him nice and ready and I’ll let him fuck you kindly.”

A thrill runs through you at the thought and Aemond steps forward. You unhook your jaw and let him slide his hot length through your parted lips.

Aemond’s pace is different than Aegon’s, as though he is holding back from fucking your throat relentlessly. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat causing you to gag.

Aegon moans at that.

“Do that again,” he says, lifting your leg off his shoulder to hold it in the air.

Aemond rolls his hips forward gently, causing you to gag again. Aegon groans at the noise.

“Fuck that’s a pretty sound,” Aegon moans, rolling his hips in such a way that makes your toes curl with pleasure.

“Seven hells,” Aemond hisses when you hollow your cheeks, and experiment with moving your tongue.

Aemond brings his hands to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your pebbled nipples.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Aegon says, “I knew the moment I saw her I had to have her.”

“As did I,” Aemond says, causing you to whimper around his cock.

You feel so unbelievably full from both ends, unaware that it was possible to feel this amount of pleasure. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, as you feel Aegon’s thumb begin to circle the sensitive pearl at the apex of your thighs.

You feel your thighs begin to tremble, as Aegon continues his attention. Your moans and gags grow louder around Aemond’s cock, the room filling with wet sounds. The pleasure builds and you find your release, cunt clenching around Aegon’s cock. He makes a breathless noise as he feels you tighten around him.

“Seven hells,” Aegon moans, before unsheathing himself from you, “what a good girl you are.”

You cannot answer, due to Aemond’s cock in your mouth and your hazy brain coming down from your orgasm. Aegon chuckles.

“Go on then,” he says to Aemond, “be sweet to her.”

Aegon climbs off the bed, positioning himself in a chair, and fisting his still-hard cock. Aemond removes his cock from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting you to the tip. Aegon bites his lip at the sight.

Aemond maneuvers you on the bed, gently cradling your head until it rests on a pillow. His touch is different from Aegon’s, not as rough, not as hasty. You look at your husband, his eyes are dark with lust.

“What about you?” you ask, voice shaky. He grins at your words, head tilting backward.

“I know,” he purrs, “I’m being awfully generous, and on my wedding night as well.”

He pumps his cock again using the slick from your cunt, his flushed tip weeping precum.

“You are my wife,” Aegon says, as though reminding you.

You turn your head toward Aemond, who now hovers above you.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, eye flickering to your lips.

What an odd question to ask when his cock has already been in your mouth.

“Yes,” you breathe, and Aemond leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss.

You can feel his thighs brush against yours, his heavy cock nudging your legs apart. He reaches a hand down, barely having to try with how wet you are, sliding inside your tight warm heat with ease.

You moan against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close to you. Aemond is different, he feels different inside of you. He slowly rolls his hips against you, a gentle, even pace that has you clutching the hair at the nape of his neck.

Aemond moves his mouth to your neck, kissing the hot flesh. Your head turns to the side, watching Aegon tug himself at the sight of Aemond fucking you. His mouth hangs open, lips curling into a smirk. Aemond’s head is buried in the other side of your neck, his pants music to your ears.

You drop a hand from Aemond’s shoulders, reaching toward Aegon. He rises from the chair almost instantly and you wrap your hand around his neck. He covers your mouth in a hot kiss, laying beside you. Aemond lifts himself up, before unsheathing himself from you, laying on the other side.

You turn to face Aegon, as Aemond lifts your leg, to continue to fuck you as you lay on your side. Your mouth falls open at a new angle, the tightness allows your cunt to swallow Aemond’s cock.

Aegon kisses you, his hand reaching between your legs. A desperate moan is swallowed by your husband, and you reach your hand to stroke him as well.

“That's it,” he says against your mouth. Aemond bites into your shoulder.

“Gods,” you breathe a pathetic whine that causes both men to chuckle.

“Close,” Aegon murmurs, “this is how a queen should be treated. Do you agree?”

You nod desperately.

“You are a dream,” Aegon purrs, “a delectable dream.”

You cry out as your second orgasm washes over you, you feel Aemond find his release as well, spilling his hot seed inside of you.

Aegon continues rubbing you until you’re pushing against him, pleading with him to release you. He does not, only rolls you off Aemond’s softening cock and onto his, having you straddle him. Aegon pulls you down, not allowing you to ride him (that shall be for another occasion). Instead, he holds you flat against his chest, beginning to jackhammer up into you, chasing his release.

You become a babbling mess, clenched so tightly when Aegon finds his release, your cunt milking him for all he is worth. You droop off of Aegon, falling in the space between the brothers, shaking from the pleasure you received, their mingled releases spilling from your entrance.

You feel Aemond place a gentle kiss on your shoulder, as Aegon moves a strand of hair from your brow.

“I am afraid some of my reputation, holds water,” Aegon admits, fingers trailing down your chest.

You hum, unable to form words.

“But I am not a selfish lover,” Aegon continues, “you are my wife, and I shan’t deny what brings you pleasure.”

You can feel Aemond growing hard again, as his cock presses against your backside. Aegon’s hand cups your breast, squeezing it softly.

“Is that alright?” Aegon asks, though his amused expression seems to already know the answer.

You flutter your lashes at him, leaning into Aemond, before answering with a tired smile and a nod.

It was to be a long night, shared between the dragon princes.

note: I couldn't pick and I wanted both SUE ME 😤😩🥵

taglist: @afro-hispwriter, @aemondsb1tch, @twobluejeans, @s0urmarvel, @fan-goddess, @the-phantom-of-arda, @cicaspair418, @loxbbg, @arraxthatsonjah, @missbeeentertainment, @maximizedrhythms, @xdeath-soulx , @wrendermeuseless, @hiatuswhore, @sho1407, @minttea07, @arkainea, @elissanatok, @alitaar, @bellaisasleep, @itsleniiilosers, @cassiopeia-black-brenda, @bogwaterswamp, @applepie02, @youngestxhearts, @aurabluestar, @watersquirtpewpewboomm, @w3ird11, @minttea07, @hopebaker, @banana-man0, @m1ndbrand @itsleniiilosers, @for-fuck-sake-im-alive, @duckworthbean, @lunamadhatter99, @mss-nthng, @heavenly1927,@jamespotterismydaddy, @f4ll-for-you, @yentroucnagol, @crazylokonugget, @ugh-my-back, @sweetniasblog @herfantasyworldd, @here-for--the-fun, @zoleea-exultant, @howdoichangemynameto, @wasntpriscilla, @avadakadabra93, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @i-killed-ramsey

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hamsterclaw · 5 months

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A Love story, read the rest here.

Your fuckboi boyfriend proposes to you, and he's just about as unserious as you expect him to be, until you realise he isn't.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing

When Namjoon proposed you’d thought it was a joke, at first.

‘Sure,’ you’d answered, nonchalant. ‘When do we tell our parents?’

‘We could just elope,’ Namjoon had said. He’d rolled over, bare back gleaming with sweat from pounding you into the bed.

‘Perfect. What should I wear?’

‘I’ll get you a dress,’ Namjoon had said. ‘A ring, too.’

‘Great.’

You’d got up to get washed up, and when you’d come back, wondering if it was all really a joke, you’d found Namjoon fast asleep, stretched out over the entire bed.

You’d climbed on top of him, buried your face in his chest, and gone to sleep too.

You’d been at the mall a few days later, helping Namjoon choose a new jacket, when he’d disappeared and come back with an ivory slip dress.

He’d held it up in front of you. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s nice,’ you’d agreed.

‘Perfect. I’ll get a shirt to match.’

You’d raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this for our ‘wedding’?’

Namjoon had said, ‘Yeah.’

‘I should try it on,’ you’d said, thoughtfully.

Namjoon had given you all of three minutes in the changing room before he’d pushed his way in the door.

‘Shit, you look pretty,’ he’d said, looking you up and down with a flattering intensity.

‘Pretty enough to marry?’

‘Forever isn’t long enough,’ Namjoon had replied, waggling his brows at you, and you’d burst out laughing.

‘Shut up, idiot,’ you’d scoffed but there’d been an oddly sweet fluttering in your chest.

Namjoon had already been distracted by your thighs, big hand running up the smoothness of your left thigh, bunching the silky material up to your hip, plucking at the strap of your tiny underwear, twanging it against your skin.

‘Get out, we can do this at home,’ you’d said firmly, hand on his chest, pushing him out of the changing room.

Namjoon had said, ‘Give me a sec,’ and had readjusted what looked like a raging boner.

‘Shit, Namjoon,’ you’d teased, flattered and impressed that he’d got that hard that quickly.

‘It’s not just you in that dress,’ Namjoon had said, in all seriousness. ‘It’s the idea of calling you Mrs Kim.’

You’d dropped to your knees and pressed a kiss to the head of his cock over his jeans, and he’d whined then, a sound so rare for him you’d wet your panties just from hearing it.

‘Come on,’ you’d said, sultry, going up on tiptoe to nibble his earlobe. ‘Buy me this and let’s go home.’

That afternoon Namjoon had fucked you against the door as soon as you’d closed it behind you, tugging your panties down to your ankles, lifting your leg and sliding into you with a groan so relieved you’d suspected he’d been hard since the changing room at the mall.

You’d been no better, worked up by the heated looks he’d kept throwing you on the way home, by the way he’d felt you up under your top in the lift to his apartment, whispering filth in your ear about how pretty your tits were, how he could see your nipples through the material, how he wanted his cum all over them.

It’d been hours before you made it to the bed, mainly because you’d fallen asleep in his arms on the floor after he’d fucked your third orgasm from you, sticky and satisfied.

Namjoon in his mid twenties had fucked you so many times he’d probably been inside you more often than not.

You wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.

***

You’d ended up planning a wedding dinner because your and his parents insisted, an affair you’d left to your mother and his which ended up being in a swanky hotel downtown.

You remember scrolling through a wedding menu one Saturday morning, half dressed, barely awake, because of a barrage of messages from your mother.

Namjoon had been doing pushups in a corner of his bedroom, grunting with effort, and you’d walked over and climbed on top of the expanse of his bare back.

‘Get off,’ he’d complained, but he’d made no move to push you off.

You’d enjoyed the feel of his back muscles flexing under your ass and thighs as he’d done another pushup, arms twitching from the effort of holding you up.

Finally, he’d rolled over, sending you into a crumpled pile on the floor, and just as quickly had got on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

‘Do you want soup as a starter?’ you’d asked, feigning seriousness.

He’d raised a brow at you. ‘Yeah of course.’

‘Can you text my mum back?’ you’d asked.

Namjoon had grabbed your phone from your hand. ‘Yeah. I’ll just tell her I’ll call her after I finish fucking you.’

You’d grabbed for the phone, and he’d pinned your arms above your head.

‘Fuck the soup. Let’s get married today,’ he’d said.

‘Sure. Give me an hour to get dressed.’

Namjoon and you had eyed each other. There’d been nothing in his expression that made you doubt his seriousness, but you’d wondered anyway.

As you’d showered, and he’d stepped in to shower after you were done.

As you’d put your makeup on, styled your hair.

As you’d gone to lay your slip dress on the bed, only to find his crisp ivory shirt laid out already, with his good suit.

As you’d slipped your shoes on, and he’d helped you with your coat.

As you’d pulled up outside city hall.

You’d slipped your hand in his as you walked up the steps, and he’d stopped then, looking down at you, so handsome your heart could burst.

‘I want to marry you today. Will you marry me?’ he’d asked.

You don’t know how he could ever ask you that and expect any answer but yes.

You’d slid your thumb over his wrist, felt his pulse thumping under your skin, strong, steady.

Even now, after all these years and after all you’ve been through, you’d say the same thing you said that day.

‘I’d love to,’ you’d said.

He’d smiled, almost shy, and leaned down to kiss you full on the lips.

After the ceremony you’d gone to the lake outside city hall to feed the ducks.

The sky had been overcast that day, and neither of you had taken any pictures, but you can still see him in your mind’s eye, still remember it like it was yesterday.

‘Should I call your mom back now?’ he’d asked, leaning over the railing, turning to you.

‘I told her I trusted her judgement,’ you’d replied. ‘And that you definitely wanted soup.’

Namjoon had laughed, and you’d pressed a kiss to his chest.

‘I love you,’ you’d told him.

He’d waited until you’d looked up at him. ‘I love you,’ he’d said.

You’d waited for the punchline, the fuckboi comment, but he’d knitted his fingers through yours and said, ‘Forever isn’t long enough.’

You’d held hands by the lake until it got too cold, and then, you’d made your way home.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts smut

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shaadiwish · 7 months

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Pastel-Hued Anand Karaj Pictures

#couple portrait #wedding couple portrait #Wedding Pictures #bride and groom #wedding photography #bridal wedding lehenga #Wedding Lehenga #bridal lehenga designs #designer lehenga designs #ivory hued sherwani #groom ivory hued sherwani #ivory groom sherwani #groom ivory sherwani #groom wedding sherwani #groom wedding outfit #groom wedding wear #shaadiwish

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dckweed · 5 months

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NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

special mention to my girly @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx for listening to my rambles and helping me out with the playlist!

PART TWO: the ride

True to his word, Gator had become your friend. The first couple days of the week passed with the two of you holed up in the house together, pretending to work on the wedding planning even though neither of you knew what the hell you were doing. You kept to the upstairs living room, wanting to stay as far away from Boyd as you possibly could, still angry at him for the whole situation and not wanting to cross paths with him again for as long as you could, your stomach still hurting under the fabric of your shirt from the lashing you had been given from Boyd’s belt as soon as the Tillman’s had left the morning of their first visit. Three times he had hit you, the leather of the belt welting your skin through the thin fabric of the dress you had been wearing. That was typical Boyd, always harsh and quick, and always on parts of your body that were easily hidden by clothes. It had been that way since your mother had married him, though you had kept it a secret from her due to the fear he had built in your brain about what he would do to her if you told her. You didn’t dare tell Gator either, not sure if you really trusted him with that secret quite yet, and definitely not sure of what would happen if Boyd found out. You didn’t want anymore drama than there already was in this god forsaken house.

You liked Gator well enough, he was easy conversation, a little dense in some areas but what he lacked in that he made up for in humor and the willingness to at least listen to you explain. The two of you talked about plenty of things but mostly school and whether or not either of you had been seeing anyone before you had been forced into your godawful situation. You weren’t sure if you were reading his face right, but for some reason you thought that he looked rather pleased when you said that you hadn’t ever exclusively dated anyone, strictly forbidden by Boyd. You learned that he had only ever had one serious girlfriend in his life, in the last years of highschool, though she had taken off to some fancy school on the east coast when they had graduated and he never heard from her again. You could see the swirl of emotions in his big brown eyes, and the way his mouth tensed as he spoke. He shook his head and changed the topic a moment later, picking up one of the magazines laid out on the ornate coffee table in front of the two you and asking what the hell the difference between Ivory and White was and why did it matter so much which shade your dress was.

Those first two days were rather pleasant, you found yourself awfully comfortable in his presence, relaxed even, and the next day when he didn’t show up just after breakfast, you had to admit you were a little disappointed, but you got about your business none the less, trying not to dwell on it. He’s a Sheriff’s Deputy, you reminded yourself, he wont have time to talk to you twenty four seven..and then you kicked yourself for even feeling upset about not having his attention for the day. You’d known him for four whole days, what the hell was wrong with you?

He texted you around lunch time.

Gator: sorry for not being able to help today, even though i know im not much help to begin with..i’m on duty for 24hrs

You were slightly giddy and that made you slightly disgusted with yourself, you barely knew this dude and you were being essentially coerced into marrying him, what the hell is wrong with you?

You: you wont miss much, promise! Be safe out there..

You felt like that was the stupidest response you could have possibly sent, but oh well. You weren’t wrong though, he wouldn’t miss much. The day was mostly spent in the upstairs living room, sprawled on the couch as you called the bakery in town to schedule a tasting for next weekend, and the local bridal boutique to schedule a showing for this weekend..afterwards you spent the next few hours sorting through different styles of wedding dresses you thought you would like, sparing no expense on designers because if you were being forced to do this damn thing, then Boyd was certainly going to pay the fucking price one way or another. And then after you had spent as long as you could doing that, you begrudgingly made your way down the stairs, you had dragged your feet long enough on the girls’ dresses for the wedding, and if you picked them out without their fathers input, you feared you would face another lashing.

You hesitated outside of his office door, taking a deep breath before raising your fist, knocking once, twice, before he gave you the okay to come in. He’s seated at his annoyingly large desk and just barely glances up at you from whatever paperwork he’s doing as you step into the room, closing the door behind you like he liked. “Ah, i was just about to send for you,” He says, setting down his pen as you step closer and closer to his desk, your magazines heavy in your hands. “Sheriff Tillman has requested that the ride with you be moved up to tomorrow morning, his wife has to go out of town this weekend and he’s decided to go with her.” You hum in acknowledgement and he notices your laden arms. “Whatever do you have there?”

How could he speak to you so calmly? As if you weren’t sporting the markings of his rage on your skin? “I’m going to the bridal boutique this weekend, and I want to get the girls' dresses while I'm there, I thought maybe you’d like to help pick them out..” You say gingerly, he seemed to be in a good mood but you could never be too sure with him.

He nods once, pushing whatever he was working on to the side. “Alright, let's see it.”

You give a small smile, slightly relieved as you start setting some of the magazines in front of him. “These are some that I liked, but there’s a few more that I wasn’t sure about. Gator and I decided on a purple and green theme, pastel, summer colors..” You prattel nervously, leaning over to show him the styles that you particularly thought were pretty. He hums, glancing up at you over the rim of his glasses as you settle the magazines in front of them.

“And how are things going with the boy?” He asks, inspecting the pages you had dog eared.

You were rather taken aback by the question, you hadn’t really known him long enough to know how things were going, let alone marry the poor dude, but yet, here you were, planning a wedding. “They’re okay..he’s funny..” You shrug, not quite sure how to proceed. “He’s working today, but he was here the past couple of days to help..” You weren’t sure why you were telling the man, it's not like he didn’t already know who came and went in his house.

Boyd hums and the office falls silent for nearly an hour. You’re about to excuse yourself, let him look at them alone so you can get the hell out of there and go eat some lunch or tack up Bubbles for a ride when he speaks up. “I like these ones best, i’m sure the girls will look lovely..” He says, handing you one of the first magazines you had handed him. You have a quiet breath of relief, but roll your eyes subconsciously, annoyed that he had taken that long. You start grabbing things as quickly as you can, itching to get away from him. “I’ll open up the limit on your credit card, spare no expense.” Are the last words he says, you hum in response and walk out of the office quickly, leaning against the door as you close it behind you.

You’re up before the sun the following morning, your alarm clock bleating around four. You were awake well before it though, your thoughts on a never ending loop. You honestly weren’t even sure if you slept and sighed in annoyance when you trudged your way to your bathroom and noticed the dark bags under your eyes. How were you supposed to sleep? Your life was about to be tethered to someone else’s in a few short weeks, two months wasn’t that much time and you didn’t know this boy for shit. Sure, you guys were on friendly terms at the very least but..marriage? Why had you signed those damned papers? Why did you let him talk you into it?

Shaking the thought from your head you turn the handle on your sink, letting the water run as you went about your skincare business. You’re dressed in less than half an hour, spending a few minutes at your vanity table to swipe some makeup under your eyes, an old habit you had picked up when you lived here full time before boarding school. You figured it wouldn’t take long before the sleepless nights would start again, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if they would be any better when you were with Gator.

Gator..

He had never texted you again yesterday, though you had sent him a few messages throughout the day, and even late in the night just to keep your own sanity. Telling him how much Boyd irritated you, telling him that he needed the next weekend free for cake tasting because you didn’t want to choose something he didn’t like, telling him you were bored..sending him a pouty faced selfie when you noticed he had opened but not responded to any of your messages (that he had also opened and never responded to).

You realized your fiance was a horrible texter and you were going to have to fix that, if you were going to be friends then he needed to at least respond to one of your messages, even if they were annoying.

By four-forty-five you’ve pulled out of the driveway and are off down the main entrance of Boyd’s ranch, your jeep pulling the horse trailer with Bubbles inside of it with ease. Thankfully one of the ranch hands had woken up earlier than you (he had always been friendly towards you, and it was deeply appreciated because most of Boyds employees treated you like shit too) and attached the trailer to your car and loaded up your horde for you. You even found your saddle and other things in the back of the Jeep when you peeked in to look, surprised that your horse had even been loaded for you.

You made a mental note to thank the man when you got home.

The drive to the Tillman Ranch isn’t too long, hell, they were practically your fucking neighbors. You were so focused on survival when you were on the ranch that you had never paid attention to lands that surrounded you. When you arrive at the gate, your headlights shining on the metal and the dirt beyond it, two ranch hands are already there, pulling open the heavy iron for you.

“Thank you!” You half shout, rolling down your window. The one on your drivers side nods once, tipping his hat at you and proceeds to tell you to follow the road towards the house and barn, he would be right behind you to help you unload. You’re surprised when the Sheriff is already waiting for you when you pull up near the barn. You see him on the porch of his house, arms crossed over his chest and hat perched low on his head and your stomach tightens, your hands shake. If you’re late and he tells Boyd, you’re done for, is all you can think as you slide your key out of the ignition and hop down from your seat, your boots kicking up dust.

“Mornin’ Miss Augastine!” His voice carries out from the porch, the sun is only just now starting to rise, a dark glow low in the horizon. You breathe in and walk around your car, up to the porch. “Wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so..” You breathe out. “Interest you in some coffee? Breakfast? Karen just put away my breakfast but I’m sure she’d be more than happy to get something going for you.”

You paint the smile on your face, your morning having been ruined by your brief panic attack. “No, Sir..thank you for the offer, but I was thinking I would go get breakfast with Gator this morning, or an early lunch..” You knew he was probably on his way home by now, and you had the sense that he would probably only sleep for a few hours.

He hums as he meets you at the foot of the porch, staring down at you from the bottom step. Your cheeks flush and you look anywhere but at him as his eyes rake over your body. You hear him mutter something akin to ‘pretty little thing’ under his breath, but you knew you weren’t supposed to hear it so you pretend not to. You were dressed for a casual ride, blue jeans that fit tight in all the right places but loose on your legs, draped over your brown and pink leather boots, and you wore a pink short sleeved polo shirt, the buttons undone enough to show just the hint of cleavage that was sexy enough to keep men entertained but innocent enough to not get you in trouble. You had your own cowboy hat pulled down over your hair, resting comfortably on your head.

“He’s not home yet.” Is all he says when you mention his son, his tone cool and slightly unfriendly. You furrow your brow, wondering why there was the sudden change in demeanor when it came to his boy. “That your show horse?” He steps down off the porch, and you look up to him still, the man being much taller than you even on even ground.

“She’s for more than just show, Sir..” You say playfully, a smile on your face as you happily lead him over to the trailer. He helps you lead her out of the trailer, admiring her with you and then leads you on a slow walk to the barn.

He seems kind, but you know its more for show than anything. You soak it up though, letting him open the barn doors for you even though you’re more than capable of doing it yourself, and you let him lead you into a stall near the back of the barn so you can leave Bubbles and go get the rest of your stuff to tack up. After a few more minutes of talking the two of you separate, you going off to your jeep, and he going off towards his horse to tack up.

As you step out of the barn the sun has risen just a little bit more, and you hear a car pulling up next to yours. “What are you doin’ here?” His voice holds a tinge of familiar nervousness to it, and you can’t help but to soften up for it. He’d gotten out of his squad car before he’d even turned the damn thing off, the radio still on. Your breath caught as your eyes took in his uniform, he sure is somethin to fuckin’ look at, you said to yourself, swallowing back wicked thoughts. “Thought you weren’t doin’ this til the weekend?”

“Plans changed.” You shrug, not really sure what else to say. You figured he of all people would have known that his dad was going out of town this weekend. “He’s in the barn.” Brown eyes dart behind you and then back to you, looking you over. “Want to go get lunch or somethin’ later?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah..yeah lets get lunch later..”He says, turning on his heel. You shake your head, going to grab your saddle out of your car, just as you’re stepping around the front of it you hear him again. “I got it, Pearlie..” You sigh, but not from annoyance as he lifts it out of your grasp. You liked the way your name sounded when he said it, like it meant something and nothing all at the same time. You shake your head, feeling silly for the thought and follow him.

Roy is headed out of the other side of the barn just as you follow Gator in. “Mornin’ dad.” He says, voice a hard and cold tone.

The older man already mounted in his saddle merely tips his hat at his son, but gives you a friendly smile. “Miss Pearl, I’ll be outside when you’re ready.” He says as if there’s no rush, but you know from his sons body language that there most likely is.

Gator’s shoulders are tense and you know it’s not from the weight of the heavy leather saddle he’s carrying. You rush in front of him to open the stall door, trying to be helpful, and you can see the pinched look on his face, the coldness in his big brown eyes. He lifts the saddle up and sets over Bubbles, who stands perfectly for him. He turns his hat backwards and you just about melt into the hay strewn floor, who knew that stupid things like a man you’re engaged to turning his hat backwards could be so damn hot? He doesn’t say a word as he starts fastening the gear in place, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

It only hits you just then that he probably has done it a thousand times before, his father clearly loved the animals, why wouldn’t he teach his son how to tack up and mount?

“You didn’t have to do that for me, Gator..” You say softly as he finishes. He only shrugs and straightens up, patting Bubbles on the belly gently as he does. “Thank you..” You whisper as you walk past him, grabbing the horn of her saddle so you could pull yourself up.

Just as you’re about to put a boot in the stirrups you feel his chest against your back, the smell of whatever it is he smokes encompassing you as he grabs your hips firmly and lifts with ease. “Good?” He asks, watching you settle into the saddle. You nod once, hoping your hair and hat are doing a good enough job of hiding the flush on your cheeks and neck, not having expected such a display of obvious strength. “Good..off you go then..” He holds the stall open for you and you ease Bubbles out of it, just as you start to walk past him you feel his hand on your calf. He’s looking up at you with an expression you’re not familiar with on his face, and it makes you worry. “Be careful with him.” It comes out as more of a statement, but you can hear the pleading behind it, and it makes you worry even more, a slurry of questions forming in your mind. “..please?”

“Okay..” You say. He lets you go and you don’t question farther, spurring Bubbles to follow out the way you had seen Roy going with his own horse. “Hey Gator?” You look over your shoulder at him, he has his hands on his hips. “Go take a nap the bags under your eyes are bigger than the ones in my closet!” You laugh as you leave him behind you, and you swear you can hear him chuckling too.

The ride starts off in silence, you and Roy side by side as he took you on the scenic route through the ranch. You had to say that you really didn’t know much about the Tillman’s, you wouldn’t know how to start off the conversation even if you had wanted to, and you truly didn’t want to, not with Gator’s pleading words lingering in the back of your mind.

The ranch really is beautiful, especially in the early starts of the summer, the rolling hills are green, and you can see where they have more cattle off in the distance. It’s a calming atmosphere, more relaxed than life was on the Augastine ranch.

“How’s my son been?” His voice is deep and rough, startles you for a moment. You turn to look at him, adjusting your hat in the glare of the sun. “He bein’ nice?” Nice didn’t sound like a word that was normally in Sheriff Tillman’s vocabulary, you wanted to point it out, the smart mouthed bitch in you raring at the thought but you thought of what Gator had said, and then you thought of Boyd and your still aching ribs and thought better of it.

“He’s been sweet.” You say, offering a small smile, the warmth of the sun hitting the skin of your face. “Real helpful with the wedding plans..he’s taking me to lunch after this too..” You say, rambling nervously. “Oh, before I forget, did he ever ask you about the twins being in the wedding?”

Roy shakes his head at you, pursing his lips. “I don’t recall a conversation..Karen would have mentioned it to me i’m sure..” You notice his hands tighten on his reins and you furrow your brows at it.

“Oh, he probably just forgot is all.” You chuckle, wanting it to stay light hearted. Truly, you had never even asked him to ask anything about the girls and you hoped you weren’t about to get him in trouble because of your small fib..you just wanted to change the topic to something more neutral. “I’m going to the bridal shop this weekend to look for my dress, and I already have dresses picked out for my sisters but I was wondering if you’d like me to pick out dresses for the twins as well? I would absolutely love to have them in the ceremony..they could be my flower girls, or hold my train…” Your sisters were already taking the spots as your bridesmaids, you didn’t have a choice in that matter. Gator had three of his best friends stepping in as groomsmen and you only had one friend coming to the wedding, and she was going to be your maid of honor.

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Miss Pearl.” He says and for a moment, everything is silent again as he hums a tune you’re not familiar. “Matter of fact..” You glance over at him again. “Karen and I are leaving to go out of town tonight, we’ll be gone through the weekend..we were planning to take the girls with us, but I’m wondering if you want to take them with to the Bridal shop if you want them fitted for dresses? Karen and I would love the alone time, of course if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them with Gator for the weekend?” You wanted to protest, but, you realized that it was probably a good excuse to get yourself out of Boyd’s house for a few days, and just the thought sounded heavenly, even if it meant carting around your fiance’s sisters and playing house with him.

“You know what, Sheriff Tillman,” You say, giving him your dazzling, people pleasing smile, the kind that had man many a guy weak in the knees back at boarding school. “That sounds like a fantastic weekend, i’d love to get to know my new little sisters better, you and Karen go have fun on your little trip! Me and Gator can handle things!”

He gives you an easy smile in return. “Well alright then.” He says, and then nudges you with his knee from his horse. “And please, little lady, call me Roy.” He gives you a wink that sends unpleasant shivers down your spine and you giggle politely in return.

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satorusugurugurl · 3 months

Text

Part of My World

Pairing: Gojo Satoru X MAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,704

Warnings, Ropes, public play, gags, arranged marriage, bottom!gojo, public vehicle sex?? (Is it vehicle sex or carriage sex??)

A/N: I received this request from @princeasimdiya12 for a Gojo x MAB!Reader. I had so much fun thinking of ideas of what to do, and the story just took off on its own! Please enjoy!

The scorching sun burned your skin as you went through the palace. Your parents had informed you that your future husband was waiting for you near the fountain in the gardens. To say you were not excited at all was an understatement. Gojo Satoru was notorious for being annoying.

He always made a commotion at every event he attended. Teasing other princes and princesses, insulting the elders (regardless if they deserved it), and relishing that he was the most eligible prince. Little did you both know he wasn't as eligible as he thought. Just last month, the Gojo and Y/L/N families officially announced that you were to be married.

Gojo, of course, threw a fuss the last time you had seen him. Arguing that he didn't want to move to your desert kingdom, that he would much rather you stay in his coastal kingdom. The tantrum was so terrible both your parents agreed it would be best for the two of you to tour each other's kingdoms.

Of course, he wanted to start with yours.

You could see where he was coming from. Your kingdom was hot, surrounded by sand, and there wasn't much to do. But your people made the desert kingdom an oasis. The streets were always bustling with vendors and life. It, indeed, was a magical place to live.

“Finally!” A vein twitches in your forehead as you turn to spot your future husband sitting on the edge of the large fountain in the center of the courtyard. “Do you know how long I've been waiting? It's hot out here.”

A breath caught in your throat as Gojo stood up. He was wearing the robes of your people. Tunic sleeves are short and light blue. His pants were slightly baggy, hanging on his hips. Fuck why did he look so hot? The image of him had your cock throbbing inside your pants as you quickly turned away.

“Go down, go down.” You commanded your cock. “Fuckin’.”

“Hey!” Bright blue eyes popped into your view, causing you to jump. “What's your problem?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing!” Clearing your throat, you tried to look anywhere but his body. “Where did you get the clothes?”

Gojo smirked, stepping around you like a shark would circle their prey. “Oh, please, since our engagement was announced, I’ve done my research. I know everything about you, Prince Y/N, and your kingdom.” You seriously doubted that, but as he spoke, he lifted the top of his robes, causing you to suck in a breath.

The robes that Gojo wore were those a bride or groom would wear. Underneath that, his body was tied with silk ropes, squishing his pectoral muscles together and twisting around his torso in intricate designs of hearts. Your Y/E/C eyes trailed further down his body, admiring how the dark blue silk stood out against his ivory skin and how tiny his waist looked. Fuck, how had you never noticed Gojo’s figure before?

Your eyes lingered on his v-line; a well-trimmed happy trail led further. This was unbelievable; what was he doing? What was he thinking?! Wearing robes and ropes like these was something to do on the wedding night. Not your first day showing him around the kingdom. You were about to turn your head to look the other way when Gojo’s hand moved. You followed it, watching with wide eyes as he tugged his pants down, just a bit revealing the base of his semi-hard cock, which was also wrapped in the intricate ropes.

“W-What are you—?”

”Y/N, I don’t like beating around the bush. If we're going to be together, I want to make sure my needs will be satisfied, along with yours.” He gently tugged at the two strings hanging off the side of his hip. When he did, the ropes around his body tightened, causing both of you to moan. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not about to buy a carriage without a test drive.” Oh yeah, no, this was fucking crazy. “What, cat got your tongue?” Satoru sneered, tugging the string again, making an almost pathetic whine resonate in his throat.

If you don’t do something soon, you will lose your mind. It was hard enough seeing his body like this, but hearing him talk, those dirty words and the teasing tone. You wouldn’t be able to take him on the stupid tour of the kingdom if he kept up this act. If anything, it would end with you dragging him to your chambers. There was always time for that later. Right now, it would help if you did something about his mouth.

“Awe, I left you speechless.”

Your arm snapped out, grabbing the strings from Satoru and giving them a hard tug. “Speechless, no.” Whimpers slipped from Satoru’s mouth as you tugged the strings harder. “I was just thinking you talk too much.” Your other hand squeezes his face, his lips turning into a pout under your fingers and thumb. “Plus, you forgot one essential part, your veil.”

(~)(~)(~)(~)(~)

The tour of the kingdom was going smoothly. You had begun at the palace, showing your future husband around the many rooms, the gardens, and the courtyard before you both made your way into town by carriage. The ride was enjoyable, but it was even more fun the second you stepped out. You and Satoru walked around, bowing at the villagers as you passed, making small talk with vendors, just enjoying another warm and sunny day amongst your people with your future husband by your side.

Gojo kept his eyes focused forward, not paying attention to much of what was going on. No one was wise enough to pick up on what was going on. But the two of you, you knew what he was hiding underneath the pretty robes. A secret that was making you harder and harder with every passing second. From the muffled whimpers and twitches from Gojo, you had a distinct feeling that he was enjoying himself just as much.

”Oh, Prince Y/N, Prince Gojo, it is truly a pleasure!’ A young vendor boasted as you looked over the wines in their booth. “Is there anything you were looking to purchase?’

”Hmm, I’m not sure; what do you think, darling?” Gojo shot an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Yes, Prince Gojo, is there anything you want to partake of? Please, anything is on the house for you, our future king!”

Blue eyes glanced around, roaming over the inventory. As they did, you tugged on the strings near his hip, causing the ropes to tighten. Gojo’s eyes went wide as a muffled moan sounded from his throat. Your future husband hunched over slightly in an attempt to conceal the growing tent in his robes. Ever since the veil had been put on his face, the same veil that hides the silk cloth gag in his mouth, you had made it your life's sole purpose to tease him.

The young vendor gave him a puzzled look as you loosened your grip on the strings. “My prince, are you alright?” Satoru had just straightened, gaining some form of self-restraint, and before he could nod or gesture in any way, you tugged the strings again, harder this time. The sudden action had Gojo nearly falling over. “Prince Gojo?!” The vendor's worried tone drew the attention of a few bystanders.

“Oh no, are you alright?” To anyone else, you were the concerned fiance. To Gojo, you were the main culprit behind his throbbing erection. “I think the desert heat is getting to my precious flower.” Your tone was full of faux concern. “I should get him home, but I will have my guards pack whatever you recommend. I will also pay you double for the goods.”

“Oh, you're so generous! Thank you!!”

You grinned, waving to the people and vendors as you helped Gojo back into the carriage. The moment the door shut, you snickered into your palm. Winning a glare from your betrothed. He was not in the slightest amused with your enjoyment of this.

“Yw’ll pwy fh ehwy.” His barely inaudible muffled whines slipped through the gag. “Athwle!”

Either he told you that you would pay for this, or it was some form of gibberish you couldn't understand. “Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying.” More muffled whines and moans filled the carriage.

He was most likely getting annoyed with the torturous teasing you were putting him through. In all actuality, he brought this on himself. Gojo was the one to show up in those robes. He was the one who revealed the intricate ropes decorating his beautiful body. You did what any other person would do. Claim what was yours.

“Pwhse.”

“Huh?” You heard that request this time. His hands toyed with the strings dangling from his hip. “Please?” Gojo responded with a wine and a nod, white hair in his eyes. “Please, what?”

He scooted closer to you, dropping the strings into the palm of your hand. He was putting so much trust in you. Someone he barely knew. Yet he was still willing to give you the power to not only please him but to please yourself as well. As your fingers curled around the ropes, you realized that this match might not be as bad as you both thought it would be.

“Fine, since you said please so nicely.” you tugged the strings as hard as possible. The sharp, stinging sensation resonated from almost every inch of Gojo's skin, a pained pleasure. That had him rocking his head back as the carriage began moving. His hips were thrusting against nothing as he whined. “My gods, you're not so against my kingdom now, are you?”

Slowly, you pulled the veil off, revealing the drooling, messy mouth of your betrothed. “Pwse! Pwsease!” The weeping noises had you smirking as you tugged the string harder.

“You're so fucking beautiful like this.” You slid your hand into his pants, stroking his cock slowly. “Dressed in the robes of my people, only to be dressed for your husband underneath them.” his cock throbbed at your words, the tip dribbling precum out of the head. “You like that, like hiding your dirty secret under these clothes, a secret only I get to revel in.”

“Fwk mw!” Satoru cried out, making you cease your strokes over his cock. You couldn't be sure if he said what you believed he said. Noticing the confusion in your eyes, Satoru huffed a loud scoff, drawing your attention to his gagged mouth. “Fwk mw,” he repeated, emphasizing the words as best as he could while gagging.

“Fuck you?”

You needed to clarify that this was what he wanted. When he nodded, you felt like your heart was about to explode. He wanted to be with you, and gods be damned, toy wanted it too. But there were steps you needed to do, prep, that required you to be with each other. Seeing the hesitation on your face, Satoru sighed before shimming his way out of his pants and briefs.

You sat back, swallowing hard at your dry throat as he turned, revealing his hole, stretched and lubricated, ready for you. It seems as though your fiance truly had done his research. Without hesitation, you all but tackled Satoru to the floor of the carriage, kissing his neck and running the tip of your tongue over the ropes and his skin. Fuck he tasted so sweet; you needed him.

He pulled your robes down, your cock bouncing “Satoru.” You groaned out before spitting into your hand, lubing up your cock. “Fuck I want you.” In response, he wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you down on top of him as his legs snaked around your waist. “I-I’ll take that as a yes!”

“Yws!” He sounded but nodded to make sure his consent was concise.

Holy shit, this was happening, all of the teasing, the bickering, the attitude. It had led to this. You never assumed that your betrothal to Gojo would lead to such an erotic moment in your life. This was definitely how you imagined your first day with your fiancé turning out. Yet here you were, on top of your future husband, your cock pressing against his tight hole.

You were so lost in your thoughts that Gojo huffed out a whine before pushing you inside. You winced as the head of your cock slipped inside of him. The tight warm heat nearly hard you cumming as he clenched down on you. He felt so good; gods, you needed more; you required all of his body, mind, and soul!

“Are you alright?” Your lips hovered over the gag. Satoru took a second, white brows pinched together as he adjusted to your size. A moment passed before he hummed, nodding his head again. “Good~ now be quiet. We don't want the guards to hear us.”

You slowly began thrusting in and out of Gojo with whimpers and whines. Gripping his hips as you set a pace. It was slow and steady, the carriage gently rocking in time with your movements. Thank fuck. Gojo was still wearing a gag because he was loud with it in. You couldn't imagine how he would sound if he weren’t wearing the gag.

His whines were like your own personal drug. The more he whined and whimpered against the ropes, the harder you found yourself thrusting into him. Desperation ruled your mind and your cock. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to see his eyes roll back into his head. Gojo Satoru was your fiance, your husband, and you were his in every shape and form.

Pushing his cock in as deep as you could, you hit that particular spot inside of him. One you had read about in books or heard people talking about in passing. Gojo whimpered, eyes wide as he arched his back, his legs tightened around you, urging you to stay where you were, to have you keep hitting that special spot. Taking his not-so-subtle hint, you pulled out just a bit before slamming your hips into that special spot, rocking into it over and over until tears began to well in those big, beautiful blue eyes.

“Mwphh!” Satoru cried out, those big tears rolling over flushed cheeks.

More? He wanted even more? He must be close. “Anything for you.” Your large hand wrapped around his shaft, jerking him off in time with your bullying thrusts that kept hitting that spot deep inside of him.

“Ngggh! MMM!” Satoru’s body stiffened, back arching as he clamped down on you so hard you felt your balls clench. Satoru’s cock throbbed in your hard as he came, spurts of white cum hitting his chest, your hand, hell, it even hit his chin. The pure glazed-over look in his eyes had you thrusting several more times before his clenching became too much.

“Fuck,” you whispered, yanking the gag out of his mouth, “I’m cumming, fuck, fuck fuck.” You pressed your lips against his drool-covered mouth, silencing your moans as your cock throbbed inside him. You filled him with your cum, pushing it deep inside of him until you both laid them, twitching in overstimulation. “Satoru.”

“Mhmm.” He hummed happily, pulling you down so you were lying flush against his cum coated chest. “That settles it.”

Pulling back just an inch, you watched him. “Settles what?” A chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you shook your head. “Did I somehow fuck the brains out of you?”

”You sure did, Prince Y/N,” His long fingers slowly ran through your Y/H/C hair. Finger twisting around the strands. “I gave you a test ride.” A bark of a laugh escaped you as you helped Gojo sit up. “I want to sign my agreement to be yours and yours alone.”

“Only if you let me do the same.” You shared a kiss with the man you were arranged to marry. An arrangement that you had come to love.

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