#more scruffy husbands please

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your adopted family may be chaotic but you wouldn’t change it for the world

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Jailhouse Rock

It’s an ungodly hour of the morning when your phone rings. You groan, fumbling blindly on the nightstand to silence the offender. The name glowing on the screen gives you pause: Max Verstappen.

“Seb,” you mumble, nudging your husband awake. “Max is calling. It’s 3 am.”

Sebastian grumbles something unintelligible, face squished into the pillow next to you.

“You take it,” you insist, poking him again, “I spent three hours on the phone with Lewis last night promising him that Roscoe doesn’t hate him for being left at home this weekend.”

Reluctantly, Sebastian sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swipes to answer, his groggy voice filling the silent room. “Max, do you know what time it is?”

You hear a hurried explanation from Max’s end, something about a go-kart race, a party, and a tiny misunderstanding with local law enforcement. Your husband’s face becomes more incredulous with every word.

“Wait, you’re where?”

***

Ten minutes later, you find yourselves at the police station, bleary-eyed but amused. Max is sat behind bars, a sheepish look on his face.

“I promise, it wasn’t my fault,” he insists, blue eyes pleading.

You both manage to suppress your laughter. After signing a few papers, Max is free but the smug grin on Sebastian’s face tells you that he’s not going to let him off that easy.

“So, this is our life now?” you whisper to Sebastian, wrapping your arm around his. “Running a day care for unruly F1 drivers.”

He chuckles, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

Charles Leclerc: Open the Floodgates

It’s a stormy evening when your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a text message from Charles Leclerc: Hey, can I crash at yours? My flat’s kind of … flooded.

Sebastian, reading over your shoulder, raises an eyebrow. “Flooded?”

Before you can respond, a photo arrives — Charles’ living room, a sea of murky water with floating furniture: Okay, maybe more than just kind of.

You look at each other, suppressing laughter. “Guess we’re running a bed & breakfast now too,” you comment, already texting Charles back: Come over. Bring a mop.

***

Not an hour later, there’s a knock at your door. Charles, drenched from head to toe, stands at your doorstep, carrying what appears to be a plant pot with a small, equally wet cactus.

“I saved the cactus,” he says, looking as pitiful as a drowned rat, albeit a very cute one. He offers a half-hearted shrug, “I didn’t want it to drown.”

Sebastian bursts out laughing, his contagious mirth echoing around the hall. You can’t help but join in, hugging your sides in an attempt to remain composed.

“Well, come in. We can’t have you and the cactus catching a cold.”

***

Over the next few days, you quickly adapt to the unexpected housemate situation. Charles proves to be a surprisingly tidy guest, always washing his dishes and even cooking dinner one night (although you had to discreetly order pizza after trying his special lasagna).

In the evenings, the three of you curl up on the sofa with Sebastian’s old race replays, laughing and teasing each other. And every night, before he goes to his bed in the guest room, Charles says goodnight to his cactus — the newest member of your eccentric family.

Lance Stroll: The Cat-astrophe

A week later, you get a frantic call from Lance Stroll. “Guys, I found this cat,” he says, panting heavily, “It was all alone in the alley and I couldn't just leave it there.”

The line goes silent for a moment before Lance coughs then sneezes loudly. “Uh, guys, I think I might be allergic ...”

***

When Lance arrives, the culprit — a tiny, scruffy looking kitten — is perched on his shoulder while Lance himself is a picture of misery: puffy eyes, runny nose, and all.

Between his sneezes, Lance pleads, “Can you please keep her until I figure out what to do? I can’t just abandon her.”

You glance at Sebastian, who looks at the tiny furball with a mixture of amusement and concern. He’s been a dog person all his life but how can you say no to those pleading green eyes?

And so, your home expands to accommodate another kid — this time, a four-legged one.

***

The next few days are full of chaos. The kitten — whom Lance named Speedy — turns out to be an agent of destruction, knocking over everything in her path and giving Charles’ cactus a few worrying near misses.

You try to give Lance advice on finding a new home for Speedy while dealing with cat-proofing your own. But, during the ensuing pandemonium, you can’t help but laugh.

George Russell: The Shrunken Sweater Saga

One sunny afternoon, George Russell bursts through the door, a panicked expression on his face. “Guys, something terrible happened!”

Sebastian and you exchange a concerned look, jumping up from where you were cuddled on the couch. “What is it, George?”

He holds up a shrunken cashmere sweater, once a luxurious wardrobe piece, now resembling something only a toy poodle could wear. “I accidentally put all my sweaters in the washing machine! They’ve shrunk!”

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you can’t help but chuckle. “George, you do know cashmere isn’t machine-washable, right?”

“I thought they were!” he laments, looking at his miniature sweater in disbelief.

Sebastian claps a hand on George’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll figure this out.”

***

Over the next few days, you and Sebastian embark on a quest to save George’s beloved cashmere sweaters. Armed with online tutorials and gallons of fabric softener, you attempt various rescue techniques.

Some of the sweaters regain a semblance of their former glory while others are beyond saving. You present George with a colorful assortment of shrunken clothing which he accepts with an embarrassed grin.

***

A sudden thought strikes you and you can’t help but giggle. Holding up a particularly tiny sweater, you call out to Speedy.

“Look, Speedy! It’s your size!” you exclaim as you gently dress her in the shrunken garment. It fits her perfectly, making her look like the most stylish cat on the block.

The sight of Speedy strutting around in a cashmere sweater breaks all of you into laughter. Even George can’t help but chuckle, despite his heartbreaking loss.

***

In the following days, Speedy parades around the house, flaunting her new wardrobe. George’s shrunken sweaters have found a new purpose, and despite the initial panic, everything worked out in the end.

“This is the most high-fashion cat I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian comments one day, watching Speedy strut her stuff on the living room rug. “She should be on a runway.”

George, watching his beloved sweaters being put to good use, grins. “I think they look better on her than they did on me.”

Speedy watches you with a lazy stare, now comfortably nestled in her new family’s hearts (and cashmere sweaters).

Lando Norris: Call the Milk Man

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon when the doorbell rings, jolting you out of your peaceful nap. Groggily, you stumble towards the door, pulling it open to reveal a sheepish-looking Lando Norris.

“Hi, I was just wondering,” he starts, shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Do you have some milk I could borrow? I ran out and the shops are closed.”

Suppressing a smile, you nod, motioning for him to wait while you go fetch the milk.

***

When you hand Lando the milk, he seems relieved. But then, he looks at the container quizzically. “Why is it in a glass bottle? Don’t you use cartons?”

Your laughter fills the hallway as you explain your household’s eco-friendly policy. Lando listens attentively, his previous discomfort replaced with genuine curiosity. You can tell he’s taking mental notes.

***

Over the next few weeks, Lando pops by more frequently. Sometimes he borrows more milk, other times he just wants to chat about sustainability, an interest sparked during his first milk visit.

One day, he arrives at your doorstep with a broad grin and a glass bottle in hand. “Look, I’ve switched to glass milk bottles too!”

Sebastian will be proud.

Mick Schumacher: Comfort in Company

One evening, you find Mick Schumacher sitting alone in your backyard, gazing at the stars. His usually cheerful face is thoughtful, his eyes a little glossy.

“Mick, everything alright?” you ask, settling down next to him on the grass.

He looks at you then at the stars again. “I just ... I miss my dad, you know?”

The silence hangs in the air, thick with emotions. You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to miss him. You don’t have to hide it. Especially not here with us.”

He nods, wiping his eyes. “I know. It’s just some days it hits harder than others.”

You stay with him, listening as he talks about his dad, his memories both sweet and poignant. You realize that while you’ve adopted your grid kids into your chaotic family, they each come with their own sets of joys and sorrows.

***

Sebastian joins you two after a while and the three of you sit under the stars, sharing stories and remembrances. Mick smiles as Sebastian tells him stories about racing with Michael, the camaraderie they shared, and the respect they had for each other.

By the end of the night, Mick seems lighter, the earlier sadness replaced with a soft smile of remembrance. He thanks both of you for listening and understanding. “You guys really are like a second family to me.”

The Big Announcement

One sunny afternoon, you gather all your grid kids in the living room. The chatter is lively, the room buzzing with energy as they try to figure out why they’ve been summoned.

Sebastian gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you both stand in front of your unconventional family.

“We’ve called you all here because we have some news,” you begin, heart pounding in your chest.

***

When you finally tell them you're pregnant, the room falls into a stunned silence, their wide-eyed expressions making you chuckle. But then, as the news sinks in, the silence is broken by whoops of joy and congratulations.

“Wow, so we’re going to be big brothers?” Max exclaims, while Lando jokes about teaching the baby to prank Sebastian, Mick looks almost teary-eyed with happiness, and George immediately volunteers for babysitting duties.

***

With your pregnancy announcement, your grid kids go into overdrive. They begin to dote on you in a way that’s both touching and a little overwhelming. From Charles insisting on cooking you healthy meals (despite his previous lasagna disaster) to Max bringing you comfortable pregnancy pillows, everyone tries to make you as comfortable as possible.

Lance even makes Speedy wear a bell around her neck in case she inadvertently startles you. The cat isn’t pleased but the sight of her jingling around the house keeps everyone entertained.

***

As the weeks go by, their concern borders on overprotectiveness. They fuss over you at the smallest things, like Max insisting on driving you to your doctor’s appointments because he’s “the fastest driver” or Lando continually adjusting the house temperature to ensure you’re never too hot or cold.

While their actions are well-intended, they often become hilariously excessive. One day, you find Mick baby-proofing the house even though the baby isn’t due for months. He sheepishly shrugs, “Just trying to be prepared.”

***

Despite the chaos, their actions stem from love and concern, which warms your heart. One evening, you find yourself surrounded by your grid kids as you sit in the living room, their laughter filling the air.

As you watch them, your hand gently resting on your growing belly, you can’t help but feel grateful. These young drivers, your grid kids, have become such a vital part of your life. Their genuine care and, at times, overzealous concern during your pregnancy only emphasize the strong bond you share.

Your family may not be traditional and your daily life may be filled with mayhem but it’s your life with Sebastian and the grid kids. It’s chaotic, hilarious, and unpredictable — and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

The Big Day

The day finally arrives when you’re rushed to the hospital. Sebastian is by your side, holding your hand through every contraction, while your grid kids anxiously wait in the waiting room, pacing and biting their nails.

A few hours later, when your newborn daughter makes her entrance into the world, Sebastian walks out to the young drivers, his eyes sparkling with joy and exhaustion. “You can meet her now.”

The joy and anticipation in the room is palpable as they rush in, crowding around the hospital room door in their eagerness.

The sight that greets them is nothing short of heartwarming. You’re in bed, looking tired but blissful, a tiny bundle nestled in your arms.

As they take turns holding the little one, their faces light up in awe. From Max’s gentle cooing to Lando’s finger being gripped by tiny hands to Mick’s unashamed happy tears to Charles’ whispered lullaby in French and George’s soft-spoken promise to be the “coolest brother,” the room is filled with a warm sense of family.

Even Speedy, smuggled into the hospital in Lance’s jacket, gets to sniff the newest human member of the family, much to the nurses’ chagrin.

A Baby in the Paddock

Several months later, the paddock welcomes an unexpected visitor — your baby daughter, wrapped snugly in a cute onesie with a tiny racing helmet print. As you push her stroller through the crowd, your grid kids and their fellow drivers are visibly smitten by the adorable sight.

Your grid kids instantly surround your daughter, their faces lighting up as they coo and make silly faces to elicit giggles. They take turns pushing her stroller and you can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm in their newfound roles as big brothers.

Sebastian, ever the proud father, looks on with warm amusement as he watches your daughter bond with her extended family.

***

Amid the hustle and bustle of the paddock, your daughter experiences her first pit stop as Charles and Lando try to change her diaper. Even Mick, the baby-proofing master, hovers nearby to ensure everything goes smoothly.

You can’t help but admire their dedication and the way they’ve embraced their roles as her protectors and playmates.

***

At the end of the day, you gather the whole group for a family photo. Your daughter, held by Max and Mick on either side, steals the show with her toothless grin.

As you look at the photo later, you realize that this quirky, chaotic family has grown and changed in the most beautiful ways. Your daughter has been embraced by these young drivers, who have become her brothers and protectors, just as they’ve become sons to you.

A New Racer on the Track

Years pass in the blink of an eye and soon your little girl is no longer a baby. She’s grown into a lively child with a love for speed, much like her father. Today, she’s ready to participate in her first karting race, and the whole gang — your grid kids now with seven World Championships between them — are here to support her.

As they gather around the track, an old joke resurfaces. Max points at a particular bend in the track, nudging Charles with a smirk. “Remember the inchident?”

Charles groans, rolling his eyes, “Not this again. It was years ago!”

Laughter breaks out among the group, their bond echoing through the years.

***

Before the race, each of your grid kids offers your daughter their sage advice. From Lando’s “always keep your cool” to George’s “remember to enjoy the ride,” her brothers are keen to impart their wisdom. Mick even attempts to show her how to properly do a pit stop, using a toy car and tiny plastic cones.

Your daughter, with a sparkling helmet almost too big for her head, listens earnestly, her wide eyes moving from one brother to the next.

When the race finally starts, your grid kids cheer on loudly, their voices carrying over the vroom of the karts. The sight of your daughter, determined behind the wheel of her tiny kart, brings a surge of pride and a few tears to your eyes.

As the race ends, your daughter crosses the finish line in third place, a beaming smile on her face. She’s welcomed back to the pit by a roaring cheer from her family, her brothers lifting her onto their shoulders.

***

That night, the celebration is filled with laughter, teasing, and an impromptu re-enactment of the inchident by Charles and Max, much to your daughter’s amusement.

Sebastian lifts his glass for a toast, “To our little racer, may you always find joy on the track. And remember, an inchident is only funny if it doesn’t happen to you.”

Laughter fills the room once again, and you can’t help but marvel at the love and joy surrounding you. These are the moments you cherish the most, moments of laughter and unity shared with this extraordinary, unconventional family.

As you watch your daughter being coddled and celebrated by her brothers, you realize that this legacy of love and support will always continue, and for that, you couldn’t be happier.

[fanaticsnail]

Hi Snail!! It's been a little while, I hope you and the family are doing well! I thought I'd pop in with so self-indulgent birthday thoughts I've had throughout the day.

1. Mihawk with a happy trail. (No other thoughts, but pretty man I'd desire to bite all over.)

2. Baking a birthday cake with Sanji! initially, he was going to have it be a surprise, but after catching him, we both worked on it together. (More platonic leaning vibes, he'd be such a nice friendo)

3. Shanks accidentally starting a citywide party in celebration of my birthday (he gets excited at the thought of a party), but ends up leading me off to just spend time alone on some isolated hilltop. It's a very peaceful evening shared between us.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WRENNYX!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Please have a mini fic on your special day for the broody swordsman 🖤. I'm sorry I didn't write more, my love!

Happy Trail

Masterlist Here

Word Count: mini fic

Synopsis: Mihawk is not as well groomed as he usually keeps himself. You notice, and you can't help yourself.

Themes: Mihawk x f!reader, established relationship, suggestive content, Mihawk is unkept, husband x wife, domesticity.

Mihawk, arching his brow as perplexion dawns on his face as you lower yourself to the ground beside his thighs. Leaning back on the chair, unlacing his knee from its position atop the other, he raises his wineglass to his lips. Eyes never leaving yours, he watches as you eagerly crawl between his knees and place your hands splayed atop both of his muscular and lanky legs.

"My dear," he utters when releasing the lip of the wine glass from his open mouth, tongue darting out to collect the spillover from his bottom lip, "Just what do you think you are doing?"

You hum gently, moving your thumbs on soothing circles to the apex of his lowered hemline. Adonis belt on full view, you gently caress your digits over the short patch of silky, dark locks and shudder in delight at the sensation.

"You're not as groomed as you usually keep yourself, my darling," you note, gently flicking over the follicles, "I am not complaining."

Mihawk shuddered away from your touch, the ministrations tickling at his abdomen causing a slight twitch to his lips and a smile reserved only for you in its wake.

"Oh, really?" he feigned indifference, his body reacting against his will as he leaned into your touch, "You are not complaining?"

Reaching forward, he placed the wine glass down on the table in front of him, all the while holding your eyes with his honey-hued orbs. Leaning down, he collected your chin within his right hand and rose you to stand. As you rose to your feet, he gently guided your right hip with his left hand and urged you forward to straddle his waist.

"You're telling me," he gently hooked your hair over your ear and caressed your jawline gently, "You, my beautiful wife," he pressed his lips to your cheek, "Enjoy having a partially scruffy husband?"

Mihawk smiled against your cheek, pressing a further three kisses slowly against your cheek towards your neck. His moustache and beard tickled your face, prompting you to curl in to his soft touch.

"Careful now," he whispered, his lips finally catching that place on your neck below your earlobe that had a soft gasp fled your lips, "I might think you prefer me a little untamed, beloved."

"Mihawk," you gasped, your chest rising with the bloom of need in your chest and stomach. He chuckled against your neck, gently clamping his teeth down on your pulse and soothing it with his tongue.

"Upstairs, dear," he chuckled against your skin, his wandering hands gently caressing your knuckles as you continued to toy with his treasure trove of dark curls, "Let me show you just how wild and unbridled your husband can truly be for you."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[ddejavvu]

hello!! i hope you’re doing well ❤️ i just read your hotch fic where he sneaks his wife and jack into the hotel room and i was wondering if you’d write something similar where jack is with jess or something and someone from the team catches hotch and reader going into his room except they can’t tell it’s reader and think hotch is cheating and they love the reader and can’t stand the idea of letting them get cheated on so maybe they confront him or call reader while reader is with hotch to tell her or something funny, whatever you find fitting. thank you if you get to this ❤️

i actually fucking adored this idea thank you <333

--

Emily's always taken Hotch for an honorable man. He's chivalrous, opening doors for the ladies on the team and walking them to their cars to be sure that they're safe in parking lots. It's instilled in his very being to be kind to women, so when she sees him trying to cover up a head of blue-dyed hair as he fumbles with the lock on his hotel room, she's perplexed.

That's not you. You don't have blue hair. But Hotch's arm is around her waist, and she's leaning into his side. His hand is more than generous over her skin, even slipping into the hemline of her shorts, and Emily's blood boils.

Aaron's got a grin on his face that she can just barely see without being seen herself, and he sounds all-too-happy to be leading another woman into his hotel room after hours when he chuckles at her advances. She rushes for the bed and Emily has to duck back into her room so as not to be seen when the woman rights herself on the bed, and there's something sickly brewing in her gut as she shuts her door again. She no longer has an appetite to raid the vending machine like she'd planned, so she heads back to her twin bed, hand digging into her pajama pants to retrieve her phone.

Spencer' who's occupying the second bed in the room, looks up inquisitively from his book, "I thought you were going to the vending machine, what happened?"

"Hotch just let some girl into his room. I mean- like, he brought her in, he had his hands all over her and she ran to the bed."

Reid's brows rise towards his scruffy hairline, pink lips downturned, "It wasn't Y/N?"

"She had blue hair," Prentiss shakes her head, "I'm gonna tell her."

"I want to help," Spencer rises from his bed, quickly crossing the room to her own, "I don't want to make her sad, but we can't keep it from her."

Emily nods, but Spencer keeps talking, "I... I can't believe Hotch would do something like that."

"Neither can I." Emily admits, clicking on your text thread. It's heavily decorated with hearts both in the messages and your contact name, and she hopes yours doesn't break when you find out what your husband's been doing behind your back.

Y/N, she types, I don't know how to tell you this, and I wish someone else would, because I don't want to be the one to break your sweet heart. But I just saw Aaron bring some blue-haired girl into his room, and if I'm being honest with you, I think they're having sex. I'm SO sorry honey, I wish I could do something, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't tell you. Please call me and tell me what's going on with you, I don't want you to be alone all night, and PLEASE don't slip away if you and Aaron don't work things out. For the record I'm rooting for you to dump his sorry ass, but I know you'll need time to work things out. All I ask is that you don't shut us out, honey, please don't let him change the way you feel about us.

P.S Reid is here too and we're both here if you want to talk. We can face-time and we'll be there for you as best we can, baby.

And also you can sleep at my place.

Or Spence's. He says he can sleep on the couch if you want his bed.

I'm so sorry, Y/N, we love you.

Emily can't have pressed send on the last text ten seconds ago before there's a series of urgent knocks on the door. Her guard is up immediately, and she almost considers ignoring it because she's sure it's Hotch coming to tell her off for exposing him. She figures you must have called him, upset, and he's here to ask her to lie for him.

The knocks don't stop, though, and Reid's the one that marches for the door, face set in a glare that's unusually menacing for him. He's deduced the same series of events, but when he swings the door open with as much sass as he can muster, his posture stiffens with shock.

Aaron is on the other side of the door, but you're standing in front of him, hair bright blue, face sheepish.

"Hi Em," You smile at her, then at Reid, "Spence. I was going to join you all for breakfast tomorrow and unveil it, but- um, I think now's a good time to tell you that I dyed my hair blue."

"Oh." Emily hums, mouth hung slightly open, "So it's- it was you."

"it was me," You nod, "But thank you for telling me. I'm glad I can count on you. Both of you," Your eyes flit to Spencer, who's equally astonished as he inspects your new hair dye.

"Oh, that means-" Emily's face wrinkles suddenly, looking at your waist that Aaron's got a hold of as he stands behind you, "Gross, you two were gonna- in the hotel!"

Spencer groans, rushing away from the door and retreating back to his bed where his novel lies.

"It's after hours!" You insist, "It's not like we were doing it in the precinct on government time. We're adults, Emily."

"We're adults too, y'know. With work in the morning. We can't be kept up all hours of the night by your racket! Just go get it over with," She grimaces, "And- hey! Try to get into your room this time before reaching your hand down her pants, perv!"

[velaryqns]

Could you please write an imagine about being house’s wife, having a kid together and him coming home with the bike he just bought?

this one’s real short but 🤷🏾‍♀️

Seriously?

“Gregory House!” Your voice was loud as you walked out the front door of your house, eyes glued to your husband as he came to a stop in the driveway. You stood with your barely one-year-old son perched on your hip on the porch stairs as you eyed your husband up and down. You gestured to his new toy, approaching your husband with a scoff, "Seriously?"

"What?" he looked between you and his new motorcycle, feigning confusion as you brought you hand back to rubbing your son's back, "You don't wanna be a hot biker wife?"

"Greg," you muttered as he stepped closer to you, ruffling your son's curly hair and ignoring the way you watched him, "What happened to saving for a new car?"

“You don’t wanna be my hot biker wife?” His tone was teasing as he silently pled toward you with his eyes. You frowned again and he scoffed, “We still have plenty set aside for that new car you want. Now about we show you the bike?”

His question was directed to your son, who could only nod his head and giggle as his father took him. You followed close behind as Greg limped over to the bike, sitting on it and putting your son in front of him. You smiled at the sight, but you were also still annoyed with the matter.

“What if you get hurt on this thing?” you asked him, resting a hand on one of the handles of the bikeand leaning on it slightly. Greg looked up from your son, who was running his small, chubby hand on the seat and feeling the textures and bumps, “I wouldn’t be able to take that.”

“I won’t get hurt,” he spoke dismissively, handing the barely one year old up to you so he could stand. Greg was once again towering over you, “I’m much more skilled than that.”

“You just got the damned thing,” you said under your breath, your son barely hearing as he was distracted by a squirrel passing by. He giggled and clapped at the sight, pointing excitedly. Your attention shifted from your husband to your son, and you smiled widely at him, “Is that a squirrel bubba?”

He smiled in your direction, then turned to his father. Greg smiled at him, his large hand covering your son’s back as you turned your attention back to your husband, “At least wear a helmet for me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,”

“No you wouldn’t,” you shook your head with a small chuckle, rising to your toes to press a kiss to his scruffy cheek. Greg’s long arm wrapped around you and your son.

“I’ll get a helmet,”

“Thank you,”

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 31﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> event masterlist

aizawa shouta x f!reader -> bdśm

a/n: happy buurfday 🙈🩶 erazerheaddo! i really don’t like him that much aka personally. but he’s fun to write nonetheless. <3 i hope ya’ll enjoy it & please heed the warnings mkay? have a lovely day & don’t forget to stay hydrated 😡

warnings: bd$m, dom!subDynamics, spanking(using a whip), buttplugVibrator, cl!t-spanking, edging, doggy!style, aftercare.

shouta has waited impatiently for you, ever since you had gone out with your friends. a sigh escaping his lips because somehow, it’s also his birthday. must you do this to him? its his special day, doesn’t feel as special anymore. why do you have to be so fucking busy on his special day — hey he’s all about tolerance and letting you do whatever you want, but this peeves him out a tad.

so when you ring the doorbell, he’s on the door within seconds. opening it for you and leaning back when you lean in to huggle him. “happy birthday, sho.” you coo, smiling softly but he raises a brow of annoyance. “thanks.” he scoffs, closing the door on your end and letting you come inside. the aura he has is enough to scream that he needs spoiling.

“what would you want as a birthday present?” you croon, watching his brow raise up at that prospect. maybe this would work just fine. shouta clears his throat, looming over you and bending over a little to whisper against the shell of your ear. “i want you to be my little slave tonight.” the way the warmth of his words say something so sinful has you cowering beneath him already. you gulp, contemplating — then again, it’s aizawa shouta. your husband, your confidante and your soulmate. he wouldn’t take things where you don’t like to. maybe this would also ease his mind from the looming loneliness you’ve subjected him to.

you nodded, biting back a smirk. “words, little one.” shouta daunts, tilting your chin up & forcing eye contact. “yes- yes sir.” you fumble a bit, it’s the scruffy voice he has that can get so authoritative which makes you feel small in the best of ways. and oh, shouta loves every bit of it.

“go upstairs to the bedroom, strip naked & kneel. wait for me patiently.” he commands, and you’re off immediately. when you’re taking off your clothes, anticipation bites your stomach. thinking about all the things he can do to you.

he comes in upstairs, shirtless with his scars and abs on display. a little smirk plastered on his face at seeing you knelt down so eagerly to please him. it’s written all over your face you wanna be good for him. “hmm, look up and say you want to submit to me. that you’re nothing but my property to use as i see fit.” shouta’s grim yet sinful reminder has you aching. you nodded, repeating the same words with flushed cheeks. “good girl.” he balms any anxieties that might’ve arisen.

“on the bed, ass up.” he hums, smirking with a little leather whip in his hand. it’s the kind of the pom-pom. lots of leather strips attached to the handle. shouta wouldn’t use a bull-whip on you just because of the impact might causing skin breakage. he is particularly against seeing blood. that makes him think it’s too far and shouldn’t be done. a personal preference.

the strands of the whip caress your naked skin, your spine, your neck, your inner thighs. he chuckles when he tries to shove the handle into your sopping wet cunt and watching you squeal. it was before you could expect, the whip cracked right on the curve of your ass. a scary intensity but still palpable, a shrill whine echoed through the walls of the bedroom, before another one came right at the same spot.

“who’s going to fucking count?” shouta scoffed, acting a little unhappy. “two- t’was two sir.” you whimpered, waiting for another one land right on the other ass cheek with an intensity which was higher than the first two.

“three!” you squealed out, and that makes shouta massage the spot just a little. “hmm, let’s make this a little more fun. yeah?” he thinks out aloud, “of course, fun for me. you’re just here to please me.” he reminds, walking away and bringing some items from the bedside drawer. you want to peek and see what it is, but you know you’d be punished for being too eager.

shouta walked in back to you, spreading your ass cheeks apart and squeezing some of the lube onto your rim, spreading it with his index finger and smirking at how your asshole puckers up for more. “nasty little thing.” he taunts, shoving a metallic butt plug vibrator inside you. the fullness has you gasping, along with the dull vibrations & the shape spreading your walls and contracting at the rim. it was uncomfortable, it was amazing, it was exhilarating.

shouta spanked your splayed out pussy, while you jerk forward in delight. “we begin again, from the beginning. don’t miss a single fucking count or we start again. you’ll get ten.” shouta tells you beforehand what to prepare for, so you know how much you’re truly in for.

the next three whips crack on your ass immediately, giving you little time to adjust especially how hard your ass is contracting. “agh- fuck, three! sir.” you manage to mewl out between gasps. part of you wants to break the counting, just to piss him off a little, the other part of you wanted to please him.

another one landed right on the middle of your ass, distracting you from your thoughts and making you scream out. “OUCH FOUR!” you cried out, “aww, maybe you’d have trouble sitting down tomorrow baby.” shouta cooed, while your vibrating ass was causing a problem. you felt so deliciously close to the edge without any stimulation on your clit.

“sir, don’t think can- handle this, gonna cum.” you remind him, not wanting to tip off the edge without his permission. “oh? is it?” shouta raised a brow, spanking your clit just once as you jumped your thighs together at the impact. “you can’t cum anywhere but my cock. hold it.” the words had so much bite & intensity you whimpered at the stance; just nodding along.

“words.” shouta spanked your ass again. “AGH- five, sir- yes.” you struggled, the pleasure overwhelming along with the pain on your rear. your skin was definitely bruised and a little swollen, but not too bad. shouta knew exactly what to give you to leave you dancing at the edge of pain and pleasure.

“six!” you cry out, tears brimming at the edge of your eyes at this hit, a weak sniffle escaping you. oh you were so bloody gone, shoved into subspace so wonderfully without feeling anything negative. “thank you, sir.” you hum, and shouta smirks. “aww, you’re turning more good? what’s that for? want me to stop spanking?” he chuckled, leaning in and kissing the spot where he’d just hit.

“SEVEN!” the next hit landed right where the previous one was. you screamed this time, wiggling your ass in air at the sting. “please please please sir, i’m so close.” you cry out.

shouta spanked your ass thrice, medium intensity but still firm, while you slumped forward, “t-ten.” by now you were sniffling in pure bliss. “cum.” shouta commanded, holding your waist and shoving it right at the leaky tip of his thick cock.

you screamed at the feeling, you felt so wonderfully stretched out. feeling shouta balls deep, along with the butt plug that stretched you out so good. immediately cumming pathetically on his cock & massaging his ridges and veins. “aw, good girl, good little girl. just like that.” shouta stayed still, letting you adjust to him & tip off the edge completely. you gushed all around him, panting heavily at the mess you’ve created.

he started thrusting into you, deep strokes without much break. the speed picking up to borderline rail you into the mattress. all you could manage was to break out broken whines and moans. it felt so good, it felt so good- so good. his balls slapping your clit, his cock kissing your cervix deliciously at every snap of his pelvis on your hips. the bruises of your sensitive ass toyed with every little thrust which felt like a spanking on it’s own.

“s-sir- so- close again.” you mewled out, while shouta’s thrusts also got sloppier, twitching inside you. “good, cum at the same time as me. let me fill you up.” he groans, “going to stuff you so full of my cum like my little cum jar you are. gonna give me babies, yeah baby? going to give me babies?” he almost crooned at the thought of it, slipping his seed inside you & painting your walls full of him while you spasmed around. brutalised orgasm ripping through your sanity as you opened your mouth in a silent scream. “shit- shit- shit.” you cried out, every single clamp of your pussy around his cock was borderline hurting.

“atta girl, good girl.” he smiled, pulling himself out and watching his cum gush out of you. the butt plug came out after, and your ass looked so cute a little puckered up. “so cute.” he hums, while you laid down shoved into little space/sub space for your dom. shuddering and spasming at the orgasm after effects. “oh little one your legs are shaking.” he smiles, noticing how your body vibrates in exhaustion.

“was that too rough?” he asks gently, kissing over your spine and turning you on your back.

you shake your head no, biting your lip. “next time add clamps too.”

shouta chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a nod. “of course kitten. you did so well for me though, took me like a little champ i’m so amazed by how strong you are. how wonderful you are.” he whispered soft nothings into the shell of your ear, rubbing your pelvis soothingly, rubbing your ass soothingly. “let me put some numbing cream onto that cute bottom.” he cooes, wiping your tears and kissing your forehead deeply. you were still sniffling and sobbing a bit. but that was to be expected — he’s wrecked your mind and body both to submission after all.

“i love you babygirl.” he cooed, kissing all over your tear-drenched face. “mm, i love you too, happy birthday sho.”

“thank you kitty.” he smiled tenderly.

[caystar13star]

This little piece is an ode to @snapghoul ’s Seresin twins au. I added Fritz (and his fandom-assigned storm chasing history as well). He and Tyler met at college in Arkansas, where the Wranglers got started. Then Fritz and Jake met and it was chaos.

“Shit, that’s Fritz!”

It took everything Jake had not to react when Payback called out to the newly arrived aviator. He and Fritz had been stationed together exactly once, and between the constant goading and their “insane” flying when they were paired in the air together, the brass tended to keep them separated for the good of the Navy.

That sobered him for a moment. What kind of mission was this?

Jake was surprised that Billy kept his distance during training, but he figured the other man must be waiting for just the right moment. They were all pretty focused on training.

It was a rather unremarkable Saturday after the mission that Fritz made his move.

The Dagger squad had been permanently assigned to North Island, under the command of the newly-appointed Admiral Mitchell (his husband refused to let him change his name, saying two Admiral Kazanskys would just be too confusing). They had been invited to the admirals’ home several times, and met even more admirals, and retired captains, and even a Texas Ranger! The TOPGUN class of ‘86 was certainly an interesting group.

Fanboy had cornered Fritz, asking him for more details about his storm chasing days, when Jake overheard them. “Hold up, let me show you. My old partner has a YouTube channel. It’s badass.”

Jake groaned, leaning his head against Bradley’s shoulder. “Kill me now, please.”

Rooster looked at the other aviators, confused as to what Jake’s problem was. Fritz was giggling quietly in that half-crazy way of his as he swiped and scrolled on Mickey’s iPad. “Here you go, check this out.”

Bradley caught on but held back his laughter when he heard Tyler’s voice through the speakers. “Alright, what’s up, chat?!?? Welcome back. Thank you for joining us. It’s a perfect weather day!”

Reuben and Mickey were staring wide-eyed at the screen, glancing between the scruffy cowboy Tyler on YouTube, and the perfectly put together mirror image Jake sitting curled up on Admiral Kazansky’s sofa.

“Is that…Hangman??” Fanboy’s confused voice brought the rest of the squad over to see what they were watching. Mav looked and cocked his head to the side, then narrowed his eyes at Jake.

“I didn’t know you had a twin!”

Jake looked surprised that Mav came to that conclusion from only seeing a short clip of Tyler. Most people who knew them all their lives still got them mixed up, despite their different styles and Jake’s efforts to minimize his accent (except when Bradley royally pissed him off).

Bradley squeezed his hand as if knowing the direction of his thoughts. “Dad has a twin, too,” he offered. “But I’m not sure if the Daggers are ready to meet Uncle Ethan yet…”

[fire-lizard-ro]

Mini post about Gallagher because @pix3lplays and I were talking about him... Like we always do with these Star Rail men... Man-

We're so Normal about him I swear-

Here's a bunch of ideas and headcanons in no particular order because I cannot scrape together enough sense after seeing that official art of him to make this coherent:

Writing under the cut (dw it's SFW I just started doing this for convenience):

Leaks suggested he had a bunch of scarring on his arms and if you look closely at his hands in the official art, he has some on his hands and juuuust under some of the bandages. Imagine kissing his scars... Auuuu-

I said it before and I'll say it again he's a big ol' puppy. Big scruffy scary dog puppy man. The way he's so attentive with you and concerned for your health, safety, and wellbeing at all times. I actually don't think he'd be the biggest on PDA. However- That doesn't stop what happens when he's protective. You'd be in a crowd and in order to shield you from the hustle and bustle, he'd pull you in close with an arm wrapped around you.

He totally rubs his cheek against yours like a fuckin cat as like an affection thing but also sometimes to mess with you because it's scratchy.

Definitely has a Chair. It's His Chair. By the fireplace. But he, of course, let's you sit in it whenever he isn't sitting there. And if he is? Pats his leg to you can come sit in his lap. You two often take naps there, cuddled up with one another.

Those buttons of his are fighting for their LIVES but you aren't complaining. He jolts a little before smirking at you when you slip a hand between said buttons to feel the exposed skin there as well as plenty of what the shirt does cover.

Pix and I like to think that he's naturally warm. Whether this is because he is a fire pathstrider is up to interpretation.

Also please tell me he's another guy who just straight says run them hands his hands are his weapon-

(I wonder if we're getting a character in HSR who just straight up throws hands like "time for some fisticuffs". Because I didn't even think about it, but Stelle in the new trailer didn't have her bat or lance she was gonna like Stellaron punch someone??? Bro gimme the "run them hands" strat right NOW Hoyo- Going back to Gallagher... Like yeah I wanna watch him straight up punch someone, lolllll- And look at his left glove!!! It has those little metal thingies on the knuckles like come ON-)

Speaking of him being a big ol puppy for you... I should write about him being a cute puppo boy... ANYWAYS-

Pix talked about kissing his scruffy chin and my immediate thought was:

"Leaning up to kiss his chin because of height difference and jwefoi he just thinks it's cute and you see the way his eyes soften weoigj- I feel like he'd lean down for you only to move so he can kiss you properly at the last second. And then he would give you lil eskimo kisses and gently murmur against your lips the softest lil "my wife..." as if it's his favorite thing to say as if it's him reminding himself and being happy about it all over again weoigjwe-"

(Yes that thought was a bit more catered to me as a certified Wife, okay??? Leave me alone- OTL)

ALSO PIX WITH THEIR HUGE WRINKLY BRAIN BROUGHT UP THE IDEA OF DANCING IN THE KITCHEN WITH HIM???

So ofc I had to write a bit about it:

It's late at night and you two just finished dinner together as a sort of stay at home date. You've already cleaned the dishes together and put everything away, relishing silently in the domestic feeling of doing those tasks together.

And then suddenly he's wrapped his arms around you, nose buried in your hair as he kisses your head. Slowly, he turns you around.

One kiss... Two kisses... "Dance with me?" "I don't know how." "I'll teach you."

Tugs you forward so you can stand on his feet as the two of you sway and dance in the kitchen, the only music being the sound of your hearts that now beat in sync.

aaAAAAAAA HELP-

Anyways more about this absolute Husband of a man again at a later time goodbye iewjgo-

[delopsia]

Stellar Ride | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 8,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, PBR!Rhett. Mentions of Rhett blowing up in the media, crowds, Maria flirting with Rhett in front of the Reader, Archie is a gem. Praise, grinding, mentions of past injury, unprotected sex, a dash of jealousy, post-coital snuggles. Please comfort and reassure your cowboy during sex. Brief Summary: When new fans and a childhood crush come seeking the hand of your cowboy, you take great pleasure in knowing that this cowboy is yours. Not Maria's. Not his fans. No, just yours.

The roar of the crowd is louder than the drum of your heart. Thrashing against your chest like a caged animal. The buzz of adrenaline jittering through your veins. Rattling what remains of your already shot nerves. That blinding jumbotron flashes a familiar name and face. But it's not what you can focus on. 

And even the screams of a name you know too well aren't enough to rise above the deafening ring in your ears. A constant tone that makes your world blurry. Tunnel vision locked onto a mop of black hair lingering by the chutes. Beyond the sections reserved for fans, but not in the staff area. A familiar sight that has your heart beating harder. As frustrated as the bull thrashing in the chute.

Is that...

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

...it can't be.

But then that head turns to speak to a friend. And the screams of Rhett Abbott's name floods your ears. No longer muffled. So loud that you jolt in your seat. 

Maria fucking Olivares.

Two thousand pounds of pure muscle bursts out of the chute. Twisting counterclockwise. The big right hand of your beloved cowboy held high in the air. Muscles flexing as he clings to that thin piece of rope. Seconds spinning across the jumbotron screen. 

Numbers that you can't bear to spare a glance at. You don't know if it's you shouting his name or if it's the fan next to you. Her shrill voice overriding all else. 

The crowd shoots to their feet as the buzzer sounds. Blocks you from catching sight of him falling off the bull — always the scariest part. The familiar voice of the announcer blares across the speakers as if the victory is his own, crying your husband's name as loud as he can. 

He's made it.

Rhett's going to the finals again. 

...if he doesn't get disqualified for darting toward the fence. 

On a one-way track to the stands, he hops up and swings his dirt-covered legs over the barricade, hat blowing off his head. Spurs jingle as his boots hit the ground. Darting through the collection of squealing girls that have congregated in front of you. A big, loopy grin sprawls across his scruffy face. Arms opening wide. 

That's the last thing you see before a hundred sixty something pounds of adrenaline and excitement slams into you. Knocking you off your feet. His grimy nose burying into the crook of your neck, sweat dripping from the curls at the nape of his neck. Yelling something that you can only interpret as a "we made it!"

And you just know he's getting red dirt all over your new white t-shirt, but you're wrapping your arms around him anyway. Hanging on tight as he spins you in a circle, uncaring of the unfamiliar faces that crowd around you. 

"My ring," he's already muttering into your ear, "where's..."

So impatient.

Your hand disappears into your pocket, producing a thin, golden band. Dented on the side from the time a bull stepped on his hand, broke it in three different places. That scarred ring finger of his crooks off to the left more than it should, but the ring slips over it regardless, hugging him just right. 

"Can't go a second without it, can ya?" You're teasing, nose wrinkling as he leans in to steal a kiss. All sweat and grime and all the things that shouldn't be on your mouths.

The corners of his lips turn upward, wild blue eyes glittering, "nope." 

Cute.

But fuck does he need a shower.

A flash is all it takes to break you out of your own little world. Cameras greedily snapping photos of a moment that wasn't anyone's to save or share. Hands are touching you; someone's behind Rhett, yelling for him to turn around and take a photo with her, the loudest amongst a clatter of voices that rattle around your skull.

It's the worst possible time for Rhett to be drawing away from you. Right at the start of the pushing and shoving, brought on by the rise in security surging into the stadium, frantic to get their photos and videos and everything else they could possibly get out of your cowboy. But he's grabbing hold of your wrist, downright hauling you underneath his sweat-drenched arm, safely tucked into his side as he shoulders through the crowd.

Rhett's head dips down, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers into it, "next time 'm makin' them put ya in the damn staff section." 

"Don't let the win go to your head, cowboy," you tease him as if you don't know that you'll be in that section next time; at this point, you're surprised it hasn't happened already. These crowds grow with every rodeo, a sea of folks who had never heard of Professional Bullriding until they discovered the handsome mug of a small-town Wabang cowboy.

A familiar face emerges from the crowd, one over his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting as loud as his deep voice can possibly manage, "yer a goddamn fuckin' fool, Abbott!" That other hand waves a cowboy hat high in the air, the dark brown felt dusted in a light coating of dirt. 

"I knew you'd catch it," Rhett's smiling, so drunk off the adrenaline that he doesn't seem to care when Archie slams that hat back on his head. 

"Y' kiddin' me?" The edge of Archie's lip is rising, fighting a smile that is bound to work its way across his bearded face eventually, "I wrestled a gal fer this piece o'shit!" 

You nearly wish that you had been present to see that. Big ol' Archie going toe-to-toe with a fan who had gotten her hands on the most iconic piece of attire your cowboy owns. "And you won," you don't mean for your tone to come off so snappy; the words nearly shoved out of your mouth by the collision of an elbow into your side. 

"Damn straight I won," there's that grin, breaking out on its own accord, just as wild as Rhett's, "d' y' know how much them folks would sell that bloomin' hat on eBay fer?"

No, but you're still reeling from the prices that fanmade duplicates have been fetching. Hats crafted to look identical to Rhett's, with their deliberate tears in the felt and scuffs to high hell. Why someone would want to beat their hat to hell and back is anyone's guess. 

You wonder if any of them have figured out about the polaroid of you two, taken on your first official date as a couple, delicately stitched into the inside of his hat. His good luck charm, he calls it. 

Wading through the swarm is easier said than done; Rhett's squeezing you into his side, strong arm secured around you, and yet you can still feel yourself slipping out from his grasp. Forced away by the bustle of it all, unable to do anything but push forward. 

Fuck, it must take an hour to get to the other side. Bursting from the flurry and into a small gap that a pair of grumbling security guards have created for you. Tumbling down the stadium floor, Archie perpetually a step ahead as Rhett leads you through unfamiliar gates and past bullpens. Such sweet, oversized animals these bucking bulls are. Intimidating at first. A massive presence that reminds you of your own mortality could hand your ass to you if they so desired but are almost always just looking for a good head scratch.

You could say the same for Rhett, now that you think about it.

It's so much quieter behind the chutes. Tucked away from the stands, its own private detachment in this oversized arena. Complete with a swarm of security and a thick, black curtain to keep out the occasional nosey fan who has yet to learn the concept of a boundary.

"Ah hell," Archie's arms flail. "That goddamn broad—"

"Hey, you two!" 

Ugh.

You wish you didn't, but you recognize that voice all too well. The snappy click click click of Maria's heels across the stadium floor is all it takes to have your skin prickling. Shoulders rising with a tension that they've only just lost. Actively fighting the urge to grab Rhett's hand, drag him out of this damn arena entirely and pray she doesn't follow.

"How'd she get back here?" You're not sure if you're asking Archie or Rhett. But you might as well be speaking to a wall because all you receive are blank stares in return. 

"I ain't fuckin' know!" Archie hisses, his thumb jabbing toward Rhett, "Ask this fool. He's the one she's 'ere fer."

But Rhett's got nothing more to offer than a shrug, teeth worrying his bottom lip, "I thought you let her in."

That's all it takes to get Archie's boots clicking across the floor, decidedly exiting this impromptu conversation before Maria can even enter it. Disappearing into the bustle of the rodeo once more, off to help another big-name bull rider get ready for his ride. Something. Anything that doesn't involve standing here and being forced into a conversation with someone you don't know.

"Oh my god, I didn't know you were gonna be here," there's something about Maria's big, overjoyed smile that just makes your stomach twist in ways that it shouldn't. 

Did she...did she not notice you standing here at all?

She's here too fast. A freshly manicured hand rising to toy with the ends of her braid, slung over her shoulder, on display for the world to marvel at. Not too close by any means, and yet her sugary perfume still hits you like a brick wall. So up there and in your face all of a sudden that it sends you reeling.

"I uh..." Rhett's boot kicks the ground, like he might be able to scrounge words out of the tile, "Didn't expect to see you out here."

"Well, of course, I had to come and see the legendary Rhett Abbott ride," her tone is so bright that it ought to make the arena lights jealous. "Nobody ever believes me when I tell them we were friends in high school." 

You're not sure if you'd count on and off ghosting a man for several years as being friends, but to each their own. 

But you've got no time to think about the stories that have been relayed from Rhett's tongue because Maria's already sparking a conversation with him. Chattering away about his recent blow-up in the media, like this is some sort of one-on-one interview. You catch yourself trying to speak, a gentle correction about a detail; it wasn't a lucky fan who got a tour of the Abbott ranch. She broke in while his family was at church. 

If Maria hears you, she deliberately ignores you. Her big brown eyes focused solely on Rhett and Rhett alone.

Biting your tongue, you let your attention wander. Better to be distracted than make an ass of yourself. Gaze raking over this side of the arena; the swarm of cowboys tucked off in the corner, stretching as they chat amongst themselves, warming up for their ride. All big names from small towns, with stories so similar to Rhett's.

The only difference is that they didn't get a sudden spike in fame over a video of them coming up to their significant other during a rodeo with their arms full of kittens. 

A box of strays that Rhett had found discarded near one of the bullpens. Six kittens in total: three oranges, two calicos, and a tabby. Fussy little things, Rhett's still got a scar on his jaw from the tabby. You'd only intended to keep one, but Rhett's somehow convinced you on two, so the other one won't feel like she's lost her family. 

There's movement in the crowd of employees by the announcer's booth. Black shirts emerging from the collection of folks working to keep the event up and running; security. 

And there's Archie, meandering along next to them; if he had their matching get-up, he'd blend right in. Head held high, shoulders square as they march right toward you. His beard conceals the cockiness in his grin, but the glint in his eye tells all.

Rhett's hand bumps into your wrist as it slides down, thick fingers interlocking with yours. Maria's still talking, but that warm gaze of his is solely on you. A smile lacing his sweaty face as you lean against him.

Before security can say a damn word, Maria's fishing out a laminated card from her pocket, flashing it alongside her too-white grin. "I'm interning for one of the vets on standby."

...that's how she got in?

A hand settles on your shoulder, Archie's minty breath meeting your nose as he dips between you and Rhett. "I tried." 

And again, he's gone. Disappearing just as quickly as he did the first time. Leaving you to bite back your frown as Maria's voice drones on once more, a constant irritant that you can't seem to escape. Strange, because the tone of her voice doesn't bug you at all. It's pleasant, actually.

What's bothering you is the fact that it's coming from her. 

Popular belief would accuse you of being insecure. She was Rhett's childhood crush, after all, but it's not that at all. 

It's the fact that she deliberately ignores you every time she comes around. Talking to Rhett, and only Rhett, with some starry-eyed twinkle that you can only identify as suggestive. Curious about all the things she may have missed out on when she rejected him all those years ago. 

She spoke to you that first time you met her, back at the pit bar. When you'd offered her one of your drinks because they'd just sold out. Hadn't known her from any other person in Wabang, just another twenty-something with a story that you didn't know yet. It's a fuzzy memory, old and warped at the edges, but you remember laughing with her, telling some story about one of the guys in the bar.

And you remember the way you vanished from her radar, the moment a particular cowboy ambled up behind you, kissing your temple as he apologized for being so late.

She ignored your presence at Rhett's last rodeo in Wabang when he won that championship title for the third time in a row. Didn't say a word when you said hello at that dinner the Abbotts threw. Her ears tuned you out when the two of you ran into each other in the Casper airport, but oh, did she perk up when she realized Rhett was behind you.

Just like her face had fallen when the word "honeymoon" had left Rhett's mouth, her nose wrinkling as if that new golden band on his finger would burn her. 

Hot breath tickles your ear, the scruff of a cowboy's lower lip tickling the skin there, "'m gonna head out for a shower," he whispers, "maybe I can get us outta here 'n to the hotel early." 

"Don't get lost," smiling, despite knowing that you're about to be left with the one woman who refuses to acknowledge your existence for longer than a few seconds. 

Rhett's lips press against your cheek, lingering in a sort of fashion that makes you wonder if he's purposely making a show of it. But then his eyebrows are shooting upward, eyes alight with a suddenly recalled thought, "Should I shave?" 

It's been a while since you've heard that question.

And by a while, you mean at least a week. 

Usually, you'd say yes, but the stubble on his cheek has only recently grown to the point of a gentle give rather than the prickliness that comes after a recent shave. Soft under the pads of your fingers, the right amount of scruffy, but not too much so. Doesn't poke you, even when you fully grasp his jaw, just to feel him wriggle and try to shake your hand away. 

"Nah," concluding aloud, letting your arm fall back to its place at your side, "I like this look on you."

"Long as y' don't call me homeless again," those eyes of his roll, and then he's pressing a second kiss to your cheek, "Stay close. I'll come find ya when 'm done."

With that final stolen kiss, he's gone. Spurs jingling with every step he takes, shoulders straining against that old, red plaid shirt that he refuses to get rid of. The same one he's been wearing since you met him. Says it's one of his favorites, but then again, he says that about all of his shirts. 

Maria is gone. 

You suppose she took off the moment Rhett turned his attention to you because even as you twist your head, you can't seem to spot her. No clicking heels, no sparkling white teeth. Nothing. As if she was never here in the first place.

The sound of your name cuts through the air; Archie, again, waving you down, "y' wanna come see this 'ere bull calf we got?"

How are you meant to say no to such a thing? 

"Rhett—"

Your back thumps against the wall. Railing digging into your ass. Jean-clad hips part your thighs. Oversized belt buckle digging into your skin as he rolls into you, a careful drag that sends heat rushing between your legs. 

"I know it," speaking between open-mouthed kisses against your neck, the hair on his jaw scratching the sensitive skin there,  "I know it."

The elevator shifts, only just beginning its upward climb to the sixth floor. 

Greedy hands wander beneath your shirt. Callouses catching on the softness of your curves, burning up your sides like they can't possibly get enough. His mouth frenzied against your neck, poorly concealed bulge grinding deliciously against your core. Whittling away at your resolve until your hands are rising from his shoulders and tangling in his hair.

Tugging at the damp strands, forcing him to tilt his head up to meet your lips. Greedily drinking up the saccharine moan that whispers from the back of his throat. Open mouths lazily tangling in a dance that has your teeth clattering together. Wet, sloppy, his kisses trailing across your cheek, on his way to your ear. Only to be drawn back by his hair once more, keening, defenses melting away like sugar in the rain. 

The elevator chimes. A pitchy tune that ends just as your feet hit the ground, doors squealing open to reveal a never-ending hallway. Too pristinely white, adorning frames and decor, nothing but a blur as the two of you stumble down it. Hand in hand, vision tunneled on your door.

You've hardly had time to pluck the key from your pocket. Fumbling with the slick plastic, as hands return to wander your sides once more. Drawing you back into a big, warm chest, Rhett's chin coming to rest on your shoulder. His hips bucking up against your ass, shamelessly distracting. 

The simple swell of his cock against you is all it takes to set a shiver into you. Seeping through your skin, past muscle, straight down to your bones. And you can't...fuck, you can't keep hold of this goddamn card—

"Oh, what a coincidence!" 

Your hand freezes. Caught halfway between sliding the card through the reader. Neck feels like it's been filled with cement as you turn your head to look down the hallway.

"Maria?" Rhett's chirp is brighter than anything you can produce. His hands slip from your sides in favor of curling an arm around you instead. "What are..." 

"I'm in room six o' nine," this hallway may be white, but her teeth are whiter. So blinding that you nearly miss the flashing green light of the card reader. The handle gives way as you twist it, door creaking open on its own. 

An eight-floor hotel, and yet you get roomed next to Maria Olivares.

Of fucking course, that's how things would work out. 

Rhett's saying something, too polite to leave her hanging, but you hardly hear it. His voice nothing but a familiar hum as your eyes fixate on the edge of that oversized bed with its fluffy sheets and cozy sheets. Still messy from your earlier nap in them, the best mattress you've seen since this whole rodeo circuit started.

Oh, what the hell? It's not like Maria's talking to you anyway. 

Stepping out of those big, warm arms, you head into the room. On a one-way route to the bed, succumbing to its siren call with all the grace and beauty of a bull rider being thrown. Face down, with a guttural noise strangled out of you by the painful ache of muscles as they finally, finally relax. 

You almost think you can feel it. The way a pair of darkened eyes focus on your ass. Probably the only thing your cowboy can see from his place in the hallway. Stuck entertaining the thoughts and whims of a woman who hasn't spoken to him in at least two years. Can't do a goddamn thing about the way you squirm, raising your ass in the air just for the hell of seeing how far you can push him.

He had you in this position this morning; you wonder if he can still feel the way your hips trembled in his oversized hands as you came around his cock. 

Because you can still feel the way his ring dug into your skin. Left an imprint that still brands you, even now. On their own accord, your hand rises. Fingertips delving past your waistband to find that sore indent of flesh. 

The tip of Rhett's boot thumps against the wall; a soft thump, thump, thump that has your head tilting to gaze out the door. You can hardly see him, but it's impossible to miss the way his hands have folded themselves at the front of his jeans, politely concealing the way he strains against the fabric. 

Riding a bull may be hard, but the look in those wild eyes suggests that standing in that hallway is even harder. 

That cowboy's bound to break, eventually. 

Maria's voice is nothing but a distant hum as you slip off the bed. Toeing off your shoes, uncaring of where they land. Too focused on hooking your fingers beneath the edges of your pants and nudging the fabric down your legs, falling into a messy pile that you're sure to trip over later. 

Fire burns into your bare thighs, set alight by a burning gaze that eats up the way your shirt lifts off your body. Leaving you bare, if only for a second, because your hands are already reaching for the soft, oversized flannel that he once wore earlier in the day. Two sizes larger than what he actually fits because the material hugged his biceps too tightly. His cologne still lingers on it, something torn between apple and wood smoke. Sweet with the slightest nudge of earthiness. 

You can almost hear it. The soft crackling of his resolve. Crumbling away like an old bridge, pieces falling faster than you can keep up with. 

His voice rumbles. Saying something you don't care to comprehend. Spurrs chiming. Boots thumping closer. Door hinges squeal as it all but slams closed. Kicked. You suppose.

Your socked feet twist beneath you. Turning. Coming nose to nose with him.

God, he's going to eat you alive. 

If he doesn't get to you first, that is. 

One foot steps forward, slotting your thigh between those long, muscled legs. Palms rising to his chest, pressing. You're hardly expecting him to give as easily as he does. Such a strong presence that you hardly believe he's giving way to the gentle pressure. Your noses nudge together with every hesitant step backward, a silent dance until his back hits the wall. 

Bold, one of your hands drop down. The heel of it pressing into a warm heat between his legs. Rhett's lips part with the softest inhale you've ever heard, the back of his head thunking against the drywall. 

You wonder if Maria heard that. 

"Can't talk all of a sudden?" You hum. So nonchalant and casual that it sounds like a part of normal conversation. 

"Y' look—" Cut short by the way you grasp him through his jeans. That pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Y' look good in my shirt."

But his eyes suggest that there's much, much more that he'd like to say. So many thoughts and phrases fluttering through that pretty little head that he doesn't know how to get them to his tongue. 

Makes it that much easier to lean closer, your lips ghosting against his as you speak, "Is that all, cowboy?" 

Rhett's hips buck. Wild. Set off by the thigh that nudges upward against his balls and the heavy underside of his cock. A tremor has long since arose in his hands. Weakly clinging to your hips. Can barely hold on when you lean in and meet his open mouth. Drinking up the soft noise that boils out of his throat, your eyes drifting shut at the soft scratch of his stubble. 

Arms curl around your waist. Heavy palm dipping beneath this old flannel of his, pressing into the small of your back. Gingerly drawing you up into his chest, and he's sighing into your mouth like you're a dream come true. God, you could melt. 

Your unbusied hand rises, tangling loosely in those dark curls, still wet from his rushed shower. Tugging a little too hard. Yanking his head back, swollen lips parted with a grunt. 

"Someone's gotten a lil' feisty tonight," that Adam's apple bobs, the veins in his neck putting on a show for you. Distracting, but nothing quite like the way he peers back at you from beneath half-lidded lashes. "I take it that it ain't 'cause of my stellar ride tonight." 

Idly, your teeth sink into your lower lip. "I'm going to take you for a stellar ride if you aren't careful." 

For a moment, the room is silent. No voices in the hallway, no clicking of heels out in the hallway. Not even an audible breath.

"...wouldn't mind that," he whispers. 

You're not sure if it was you or Rhett who made the first move. But everything is spinning. A blur of color as your feet tangle together. Backing up. Dancing toward the bed. His hands crawling up your back. Your fingers clinging to those long curls. And his mouth is on yours, and his tongue is lapping at your lower lip, and your mouths are parting—

The mattress squeals beneath the weight of your bodies. And maybe it's the bounce that makes it so easy to throw your leg over his hips. Rolling over top of him before you can so much as comprehend what you're doing. 

You've no recollection of it, but one of you has undone the buttons of his shirt. Revealing a broad, milky white chest, still marked by your earlier excursions. Bears the wound of a hoof to the ribs from last Sunday. A heart-stopping mottling of purple, blue, and yellow that has yet to fully fade, no matter how many times you've peppered it with kisses.

"I take it y' ain't gon' be easy on me," he says it like it's a hope. 

A want. 

A need. 

"Did you want me to be rough on you, cowboy?" Your smile audible in your words; already know the answer to that question. Distantly, you think you hear his boots being pushed off his feet. Hitting the floor with two dull thunks.

Rhett's hips roll upward, muscles flexing, putting on a rippling show for your eyes only. "A lil bit." 

That's all he needs to say. Those three little words setting you into motion. Scooting down his legs, your hands scurrying to pop open that obnoxiously large belt buckle. One of those things that felt like rocket science when you first met him, but now something you can do with your eyes closed. 

Well-trained fingers popping it open and nudging it out of the way as you make a move for his button and zipper. Eager. Can't even bring yourself to waste time with fishing him out of his boxers. Instead hooking your hands into his waistband and pulling them down before he can finish pulling those lube packets from his pocket. Sends the little things scattering down his thigh and across the bed. 

"Damn," Rhett grunts, fumbling for one that was practically ripped from his hand, "impatient."

Getting the bunched-up fabric past his ankles is the worst part. Stupid cowboy and his stupid long legs. Can't release the breath you're holding until it's finally sliding over his heels, belt clanking against the floor. Finally, finally, finally. 

Only now, as you crawl back up his legs, do you remember to open your mouth, "I wouldn't be if you didn't spend the past few minutes entertaining Maria." 

"Didn't wanna be rude—oh."  Eyelashes flutter. His hips jerking up into your hand, wrapped firmly around his cock. Flushed red at the tip, precum shimmering in the dull light of the bedside lamp. 

But it's not enough to wet him. The drag of your hand is rough. Firmly stroking, uncaring of whether he gets that lube open or not. Up and down, entranced by the way he twitches in your grasp. Thighs writhing against the mattress, squeezing together, only to spread apart again. A picture-perfect show of muscle, his heavy breaths like a melody. 

"Too dry?" You know the answer to that. 

He knows that you know the answer. Yet his hair bounces as he nods his head, the edges of two packets frozen between his teeth. "Uhuh."

But he's still not moving. In no hurry to relieve the discomfort that comes with your too-dry touch. Stomach flexing as he twitches up into it, chasing the touch of your hand, a soft noise emanating from the back of his throat. Rumbles out of his mouth and down between your legs. 

"You'd better hurry up then," saying it to yourself more than anything. Can feel the uncomfortable wetness growing, a subtle throb begging you to do something about that. Only spurred on by the way he whines at you, fumbling with the packets. 

The edges rip. Clear fluid spills out onto his lips and cheek as he pulls them away. Face wrinkling, pawing at his skin with the back of his hand. It's what he gets for opening things with his teeth. 

"How many times are you gonna do that before you learn?" You whisper, the corners of your lips rising as you squeeze one of the packets over his length. Drenching him in a slick wetness that squelches when your hand passes over it. 

He'd have something to say if you weren't starting to jerk him in earnest. His knees bumping into you, head tilting back. Can hardly focus on wetting two of his fingers with the other packet, dripping onto his heaving chest and running down his forearm. 

"Quit—" his mouth opening and closing like a fish, "'m gonna cum if you keep—mmh, if you keep doin' that."

On its own, your hand freezes at his base. 

He told you to stop. He knew you'd stop. And yet he jerks up into your fist anyway, keening high in his throat at the loss. Throbbing, balls flexing against your hand. So, so close, over something so little.

Rhett's shaky hand delves between your legs. Rough fingertips pass between your folds, over your clit. Shamelessly pressing inside without much warning, back into an open, dripping wetness that still aches from earlier in the day. 

Your thighs shudder, fighting the urge to clamp together as he passes over a familiar bundle of nerves. Bumping into it on every deep thrust of his fingers.  "Baby, you don't have to—"

"I know it," the lazy corner of his mouth lifts as he says it, an unnamed fondness sparkling in his smile, "don't wanna hurt you."

You can't argue. God, you can't argue. Not with him shallowly thrusting in and out of you the way that he does. Knuckles dragging sweetly against your walls, drawing your mouth open with a silent noise.

You've only just begun to adjust to it, but you're already catching him by the wrist, drawing those thick fingers out of yourself. All in exchange for scooting further up his lap, your other hand guiding his flushed length to your entrance. The head of him brushing against your entrance, burning hot. 

But you're not sinking down on him yet. Aren't quite sure what's made you freeze. Is it the recollection that Maria is on the other side of this thin wall? Hesitance to take what you want so quickly?

Rhett's hands smooth up your thighs, peering up at you from beneath thick lashes. "Take me," he breathes, voice barely there, "please."

Fuck, you can't say no to that. 

A calloused grip squeezes either side of your hips as you begin to sink down on him. Sensitive, sore cunt opening to take that blunt tip for the second time today. An aching stretch that has you holding your breath, caught in the way that he slowly enters you. Such a familiar thing that you've experienced time and time again, yet continues to feel so new.

Rhett's mouth is moving, but not a sound escapes his throat. Voice suddenly lost as you take him in, wound too tight by the feeling of splitting you open. Frankly, you don't think you're much better. Can't even begin to find the words that you wanted to say just moments before. 

Your palms settle on his exposed chest, feeling the way his heart knocks back against you. Vicious little thump thump thumps that spur your own heart on, pounding in your ears, so strong that your arms feel like they begin to shake with it. 

But then your hips are meeting, and the underside of his length is twitching into a particular little spot, and—

"Fuck, Rhett," you whisper his name like its a praise. 

A television blares from the next room over. Maria's. So loud that it's hardly muffled, and yet you can hardly hear it. The droning of a news reporter washed out by the breathy whine of a cowboy. Your cowboy.

Not Maria's. Doesn't belong to the fans who attend every rodeo and buy every object with his name printed on it. 

No, just yours. 

Those brilliant blue eyes sparkle up at you as you lift yourself up until only his plush head remains inside of you, then sink back down once more. A pair of gasps twist through the air at the way that he fills you, at the way you wrap around him so perfectly. 

"Jus' like that," Rhett's words punctuated by his heaving chest, "feels good, feel's so..." He can't finish that thought. Tongue limp in his mouth as you repeat the motion, a little shorter now. Quicker. Too impatient for the slowness that comes with lifting yourself all the way up. 

And that's okay because his hips twitch up into you. Meeting you halfway with a lewd smack of skin on skin. Hitting a set of nerves that have your eyes unfocusing, the softest noise rattling out of your chest. Those lazy thrusts have no right to hit what they do. Has your quivering cunt savoring the way that his cock head drags inside of you. 

His mouth snaps shut. Eyelashes fluttering shut, weakly muffling a moan that you wish you could have heard. Always has been a sucker for feeling you flutter around him. 

"Come on, cowboy," you're gasping, can hardly keep your own eyes open as you reach up, pressing a thumb to his soft lips, "open up."

Hesitant, his mouth opens to wrap around the digit. Sucking gently, his tongue swirling around the tip, moaning into it like it's a damn pacifier. And fuck, it's not what you were going for, but he's whining as your hips meet once more, and the sound is vibrating up your arm, and, and—

Your fingers grip his scruffy jaw. Thumb pinning that wriggling tongue to the bottom of his mouth, forcing it open. 

That sound he makes is garbled. The weakest little 'huh?' you've ever heard. Wide eyes peering up at you, gaze torn between confusion and intrigue. Poor cowboy has no idea what you're doing, and yet he seems up to whatever challenge you're about to present to him.

"Wanna hear you," Your sentence punctuated by a jerky snap of his hips up into you. Fuck, fuck fuck, he's hit that spot again. Sends you clenching around him once more.

Rhett sputters. Tongue flexing under your thumb, eyes darting to the wall behind the headboard. His protest doesn't make it past his lips, but you hear him loud and clear.

"It's okay," for a moment, your thumb loosens enough for him to escape if he wants to say something, "I'm the only one who can hear you." 

Distantly, it hits you that Maria's probably maxed out her television volume as bait to make Rhett come over and ask her to turn it down. 

But Rhett's not talking, and his protest dies there. Big hands running up your sides, palms curling around your breasts like he's been dying to do it all night. Gently holding on as you find your pace, riding this ol' bull rider in earnest now. Punching the breath out of your lungs, the sounds whittling out of your throat covered up by the deep grunts from below you.

"That's it," praising, adding flame to that rising confidence, "such a sweet boy for me." 

Your unbusied hand slides across his chest, pinching at a nipple. Pulling on it, rolling the rapidly hardening bud between your fingertips, dusky pink blossoming into a raging red. 

There he goes.

Jerking up into you with a garbled cry you haven't heard since you began this rodeo circuit. Baby blue eyes grow foggy, jaw slackening. Such a sight that you can feel yourself grow wetter around him, creating this sickly, loud squelch that bounces off the walls of this hotel room. And he's trying—God, he's trying to return the favor. Weakly catching one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, trying his best to roll it back and forth.

Your shaking hand rises, wrapping around his wrist, dragging it away. Still determined to keep your thumb pressed against his short little tongue, forcing those whimpered noises to hit the air. 

But then he's trying to do it with his other hand, and you've got no choice but to yank your finger out of his mouth. Your knuckle bumping against his teeth as it flies up to collect his other wrist, pinning them above his head. Forcing you to shift your angle, letting that thick cock of his rub against those nerves with perfect, unrelenting ease. 

"Wha...?" Rhett's eyes are wide open again, his head shaking, "But I want—"

His arms strain under your grasp, biceps rippling, and he could easily break out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Stopping his efforts as soon as you don't immediately give way. Yet he's still jerking up into you, meeting your body halfway at the same lazy pace as before. 

"What do you want?" Echoing his too-short request despite knowing what he was trying to say. If only to hear that deep voice grumble again.

"Please, I want—" Fighting for control over his speech, head swaying back and forth like he's trying to shake the fog from his thoughts, "wanna touch you." 

But you're not letting him go. Collecting both of his wrists into one hand, letting your other one roam through his hair and across his cheek. Stroking that trembling jaw.

There's a glassiness in his eye that wasn't there before. Appearing so suddenly, yet already threatening to spill down his pretty cheeks. "'re you mad?" He croaks, bottom lip wobbling. "Was it—did I...? I didn't mean to..."

All at once, the room freezes. Bodies coming to rest against each other as you let go of his hands in favor of stroking those scruffy cheeks. And yet, his arms lay limp above his head. Unsure.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you whisper, lips brushing against his forehead, "I was just playing with you, sweetie; I'm not upset with you." 

It's not much, but it's enough to get him moving. Hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling into the hands that cradle his face. Your fingers stroking away the wayward tear that spills over until it's nothing but a damp sheen beneath his eye. 

 "What's got you thinking I'm mad at you?" Not sure if you should press it or not, but you're asking regardless as you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. Peppering them across his cheeks in the way that always gets his face scrunching. 

His eyes dart toward the wall, then down to the floor, "...Maria."

"Maria?" You echo. That's what has him upset? 

"I know y' don't like her and, and I know it didn't feel good havin' her follow us around all night." That pretty mouth is going ninety words a minute, rambling like it'll take the edge off of his nerves. Sweet blue eyes watering the more he talks. "I tried sayin' something to her earlier, but she wouldn't listen, 'n I didn't wanna be an ass..."

"No, no, I'm not upset about that," you're saying it so quietly, nearly covered up by the drone of Maria's television, but raising your voice feels like it'll break another piece of him. "I would've told you if it bothered me." 

He's still searching. Scanning for a hint of a lie, a shred of anger that doesn't exist. 

He doesn't find it. 

For a moment, he's still. Breath caught in his throat. But then he's leaning up, nose bumping into yours as he catches your lips in his own, the both of you sighing into it. Some simple lock that ends as quickly as it started. Sharing a heated breath, as unified as your bodies are. 

But there's still a flame kindling behind his eye.

"C'n I flip us over?" His hands draw up your sides, stroking your skin. "Please?"

"Go ahead, cowboy," you've hardly gotten the final word out, and yet he's already moving. Arms firm around your waist as he rolls your bodies over, your back settling into the mattress. Unintentionally jostling his cock inside of you, bumping into something spongey. 

Rhett's warm nose buries itself in the space beneath your jaw, hips already beginning to move. Searching for that same pace you'd worked up mere minutes ago. Heavy balls smacking into your ass, your legs split wide to make space for his sweaty body. Slow at first, but then—

"Ah!" Stars sparkle behind your eyelids, mouth agape. "There, there, good boy." 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's only just started fucking into you, and yet his cock head is already kissing those nerves on each inward pass. Meticulously striking every little spot. Has your cunt growing wet once more. Your blunt nails bite into his flannel-covered bicep, dominant hand venturing down between your legs. 

"Feels so good," Rhett's babbling, right into your ear, "fuck, can feel your lil pussy spasmin' 'round me."

The pads of your fingers find your clit. Neglected and swollen, so sensitive that your own touch is almost too much. "Rhett..." 

"Uhuh," and then his head is rising, and his mouth is on yours again. 

Your lips can hardly stay together. Breaking apart with every shaky thrust, yet always finding each other again. Over and over, gasping into his mouth, swallowing down his pitchy whimpers. Chasing a high that you can feel burning to life between your legs. A dull heat that's already sparking, sending your skin prickling and your head spinning. 

"Wanna..." he's muttering against your mouth, searching for words he can't find"Can I—please can I—"

And yet he's cut off by his own cry. A shattered noise brought on by the way your cunt squeezes him, fluttering like a damn butterfly. Your fingers spiral around your clit, chasing a lone flame that blooms into a raging wildfire. God, his rhythm is falling apart, jerky thrusts slamming into you without synchrony.

All of a sudden, Rhett finds his voice, "'M gonna cum."

Fuck, you said this morning that you weren't letting him cum in you again this week. But the thought of the cleanup pales in comparison to the vivid memory of him snuggling into you as he fills your pussy with his cum. 

Oh, oh, oh, you want to feel that again. 

"Cum in me, angel," your hand flies off his bicep in exchange for tangling in his hair. Holding on tight, like you'll float up to the ceiling and out the window if you don't hang onto him.

The corner of his eye twitches. Keening high in his throat, head dropping down as his hips quicken. Short, rapid little thrusts. Chasing the heat of it all. Pushing your head higher and higher into the clouds. Grunting beneath his breath.

His hips stall. 

A sputtered cry falling off his tongue. Head burying into the crook of your neck as his orgasm washes over him. Cock spasming inside of you, twitching, filling your sweet pussy with his cum for the second time today. Painting the inside of you with white. Panting heavy against your skin.

His hips jolt involuntarily

And that's all it takes to push you over the edge. Cumming around his cock with a noise that your ringing ears don't catch. Head tilting back. Cunt clenching around him like a vice. Spurred on by the pitchy, oversensitive whimpers that you draw out of him. 

Your head might have fallen off of your shoulders. So light and airy that you think you might feel a cloud brush against your cheek. 

Or maybe that's the feathery brush of a cowboy's lips against your cheek. One, two, three, four kisses. Working you down from your high, grunting at the way that you relax around his spent cock.

Unfocused, your eyes open. Blinking back at him. "Some stellar ride, huh?"

The corner of his lip rises with a smile as your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. Chuckling, his head dips down to rest against your chest, soft cock slipping halfway out of you. And you can already feel his cum beginning to spill down your walls, stopped only by that sensitive, plush tip. Even then, you think you can feel it running down your inner thighs. 

"We should clean up before we get the bed dirty," you whisper, but just because you should doesn't mean you will.

Rhett's head shakes, dark hair bouncing with it. "No."

"No?" Echoing dumbly. Though you can't say that surprise is your primary emotion.

"Want y' to keep holdin' me," that voice of his is deep, but his smile is light. Sparkling eyes peeking up at you like he thinks it'll get him extra time, "jus' a lil longer." 

You've always been a sucker for that soft, cozy gaze.

And maybe you fall asleep because the next time you open your eyes, it feels like forever has passed. Your bones heavy, thighs sore from your borderline workout. Rhett's heavy body still lays on top of you. His fingers walk across your naked skin, transfixed by the way your skin gives to his gentle touch. Lost in his own little world.

Lazy, your fingers comb through his hair. The ring on your finger glints in the light as your nails rake across his scalp in a fashion that always makes him purr. 

"Would y' care if I called the front desk 'n changed our room?" His voice rumbles against your collar, its own little earthquake.

"I don't mind," your neck strains as you try to press a kiss to his forehead, his skin still sticky with sweat, "if it makes you feel better, then that's what we'll do."

He hums at that. Doesn't seem to have much more of a response cooked up. But then, the scruff of his jaw brushes against your skin, his mouth opening again, "C'n we take a bubble bath first?"

Your eyes flutter. Supposedly a habit you've picked up from your husband. "Now?"

"Uhuh."

As you clamber off of each other and make for the bathroom, you can't help but catch yourself wondering if any of his big-time fans are aware of his recent bubble bath obsession. Or if Maria and her not-so-subtle fixations know that Rhett is absolutely, one-hundred percent, the little spoon. 

Because you sure do. 

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 35**

I wrote this while on holiday so any mistakes I blame on sun stroke and cocktails! This is the second to last chapter! I'm not ready! Chapter 36 will be the last chapter and then I've got an epilogue planned. How will I say good bye to these two!? Please enjoy what's left 😭

Series Master List

Chapter 36- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10.4k

The night passes quietly, and you watch the sunrise over the eastern horizon across the river while Frankie sleeps in the tent with baby Jack. As the sun starts to warm up the cool prairie air, you make some breakfast, dreaming of the days you could have coffee, and hear Frankie stir as Jack begins to cry. You listen to your husband soothe him, and with a pang of longing you wonder if Frankie makes the same soft cooing sounds for Jack as he did for Lucía. Frankie had told you years ago that he’d been petrified when Lucia was born, he’d been in such a bad state and not able to enjoy having a baby girl. But he’d grown into such an incredible dad by the time you met him, it was hard to imagine him being anything but a proud doting father.

The zipper of the tent slides open and Frankie crawls out, Jack held tight to his chest with one hand. The boy is staring up at Frankie’s beard and as you watch, Frankie carefully gets to his feet and smiles at Jack, dipping his chin low enough so that one chubby little hand can come up and grab at the scruffy hair.

“Ouch, you little scoundrel,” Frankie chuckles, “you’ve got some grip in those tiny hands.”

You smile and hand Frankie a bowl of ravioli as he gently sinks down next to you, “Careful, he’ll give you another bald patch,” you tease and Frankie rolls his eyes at Jack.

“Listen to her, going after my poor beard now, as if she doesn’t love my bald patches.”

“True, I do love them,” you lean forward and press your lips to the one on his right jaw, “pull harder, Jack.”

The baby gurgles happily in Frankie's lap, reaching up for the beard again.

“I’ve prepared some food for him too, I cut up the ravioli,” you pick up the bowl, “do you want me to feed him while you eat?”

“No, I’ll do it, if you wanna pack up the tent?”

“Sure, I’ll pack up,” you give the bowl to Frankie and you can’t help but smile as he takes it, barely looking at you as Jack grabs his finger and blows a spit bubble. In all your years with Frankie, in an increasingly hard environment, you’d never have guessed that a little foundling baby would be the thing that made your husband melt into a puddle.

As you take down the tent and roll up the sleeping bags you listen to Frankie talk to Jack, an endless stream of baby nonsense. When the baby swallows the last bite of food, Frankie praises him, gently wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. As you put Frankie’s pack next to him, he wraps Jack into the makeshift kangaroo pouch and ties it around his chest.

“I’ll take him, since you carried him all day yesterday, rest your shoulders today, cariño,” he says, adjusting Jack’s legs.

“Are you sure? You’ve got a pretty heavy pack,” you say, slipping one of Frankie’s socks onto Jack’s head to protect him from the sun.

“Yeah, if you take the rifle today it’ll be fine.”

…

The three of you keep walking west, the endless prairie slowly giving way to more hills and trees. Far off in the distance you can see the high peaks of the Rocky Mountains, impossibly high in the clear air. At the end of another long day of walking you’ve climbed up, away from the prairie and into low hills that slowly stretch up towards the high mountain range to the west. While you rested at midday you’d actually managed to run down some sort of chicken, it looked fairly domesticated and Frankie guessed that chickens must’ve escaped from farms after the outbreak and multiplied. Whatever it was, you managed to wring its neck without getting too squeamish and hang it from your backpack.

You feel like you’ve crossed all of Wyoming on foot when the sun finally starts dropping and nothing worth noting has crossed your path since you left the pick up, no infected, no people, only animals in the distance. The farms and houses you’ve passed have been empty and mostly looted, people have passed through here before you but it’s impossible to know when. You realize finding Jack’s uncle will be like finding a needle in a haystack, if the group he was with even got as far as Wyoming, it seems unlikely you’ll meet anyone out here and maybe that’s for the best..

At sundown you make camp a mile from the road you’ve been following. It’s far enough away from anything that Frankie risks a campfire and grills the bird you’d caught whole. Even Jack can eat the tender meat when you cut it up and he even seems to enjoy it.

“I’ve been looking at the map,” Frankie says, bringing it over to the campfire so that you can see, “and I’ve got a couple of options, tell me what you think.”

You lean into him as he spreads the map out onto the ground in front of you. “There's a place up here, about five miles from the road.” He points to a spot on the map, “It’s got a small river running next to it, the mountain on one side and this open valley on the other side. It’s marked as a private ranch on the map key. It could be what we need. But there’s another place,” he moves his finger and points to a place much further north, “it’s another twenty miles into the mountains, up this valley that we’re in.”

“I’m guessing there’s a good reason why you want to walk another twenty miles?” you say, looking at the long stretch of land that lies between you and the spot Frankie’s fingers is resting on.

“Yeah, this place is a small hydroelectric dam. If we get there I could probably get it up and running and we’d have actual electricity, heating, hot water.” He looks up at you with an excited smile, “I was thinking about it today, even if it doesn’t work now, I could fix it somehow and the place is so remote, it’s bound to have all the equipment needed on site. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s only another half days' walk, with a potentially huge reward.”

You look at the dam location, tucked away at the river mouth, a few miles from the main road. Plenty of fish in the lake probably, and open land full of game, provided you’d be able to craft something to hunt with.

“It looks like a better location than the ranch, but probably a bigger risk of infected, if the people who worked there didn’t get away.”

“Yeah, that’s the main drawback,” Frankie says, “we’d have to be very careful clearing it out.” He’s tapping the map thoughtfully before he looks up at you. “It’s up to you completely, if you don’t want to risk it, we go with the ranch, live settler style. Maybe that is the better option, safer for now at least.”

“The dam could attract other people too, if they have the same idea as you,” you say and Frankie nods.

“Yeah, there’s always the risk of other people too, although, so far Wyoming seems pretty empty to be honest.” He folds up the map, “We’ll sleep on it, see how we feel tomorrow, we could just go check out the ranch first, it’s almost on the way.”

Behind you Jack shifts and begins to cry and you pick him up, tucking him into your arms.

“I’ll set up the tent and take the first watch, cariño, see if you can get him to go back to sleep.”

“He’s usually asleep by now, maybe he got a tummy ache from the food,” you stand up and start rocking him the way you used to rock your nieces when they were babies. The thought makes you wince, over the years you’ve come to terms with all the people you lost when the outbreak happened, your parents, siblings, friends. But sometimes, when you do something that reminds you of them, it’s like touching a piece of glass inside your chest and the cut is fresh. Gently bouncing on your feet you try to remember how old they’d be by now but you get stuck, in your mind they’re forever little girls, just slightly older than Lucía.

Jack just won’t settle, his cries cut through the still night, no matter how much you and Frankie try to soothe him. Even Frankie’s beard goes untouched, the tiny fists clenched hard as Jack wails in Frankie’s arms. It feels like he cries for hours, sleeping is out of the question, you can’t shut your ears to Jack’s crying and you’re starting to worry that anyone or anything in the vicinity will hear and come to investigate.

“Give him to me,” Frankie suddenly says, handing you the rifle, “I had an idea, my abuela once told me I had tummy aches as a baby every time I’d eaten and she’d hang me over her shoulder.” He gently takes Jack from you and hangs him, belly down, over his shoulder. His large hand holds Jack steady as he gently begins to rock on his feet and you walk around his back so that you can see Jack’s face. He’s still crying but as Frankie moves back and forth he seems to calm down a little.

“Keep going, I think it’s working,” you say and Frankie starts walking circles around the fireplace while you keep watch around the campsite. There’s a new moon in the clear sky and you look up at the thin sliver and all the bright stars. You’ll never get over how bright they really are once you’re out in the countryside. When the world came crashing down it took a long time before you had the peace of mind to sit in the dark and look at the sky. It wasn’t really until you were out on the boat, sailing from New York, that you’d noticed them again. Now you search out familiar constellations and find the North Star. Behind you Jack is finally quiet, you can hear Frankie gently humming a lullaby you don’t recognize.

“Arroz con leche me quiero casar, con una señorita de Portugal….” and he hums a few notes, the words forgotten, before you hear him sing again, “Con esta sí, con esta no, con esta señorita me caso yo.”

You turn and smile at him and you hear a branch snap behind you, fear shooting through your veins like ice. Your heart drops into your stomach as you swing round, raising your rifle towards the sound, you suddenly see several shadows moving in the corner of your eyes. You hear Frankie rush up behind you, his back against yours as he turns and scans the dark forest.

“Lower your guns, there’s more of us than you,” comes a man’s voice from in front of you as several people step into the light of the campfire, guns raised. You can see at least five of them, and from the footsteps behind you, at least another five you can’t see.

“Lower your gun, cariño,” Frankie says, his voice low, “and take Jack.”

You give Frankie a scared look as you lay your rifle on the ground and take the baby from him, tucking him into your arms, one hand protectively cradled over his head. Frankie raises one hand and slowly pulls his gun from the back of his pants with the other, laying it down on the ground.

“Step away from her, five steps back,” the man barks, jerking his head at Frankie.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Frankie says, “We’re just passing through, the baby was ill.”

“Step back,” the man snaps, taking a step forward and raising his gun, aiming at Frankie. You look over your shoulder at Frankie, he gives you a small nod.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, slowly backing away from you.

“Have you been around any infected?” the man asks and behind him you see a woman stepping forward, a German Shepard on a leash.

“We haven’t seen anyone since we left Nebraska,” Frankie says, “no people or infected.”

“If you’re lying the dog will sniff it out and rip you to shreds,” the man keeps his rifle on Frankie and nods to the woman to unclip the dog. It growls and runs over first to you and sniffs around your legs before padding over to Frankie and doing the same. Satisfied that neither of you are infected, the woman whistles the dog back..

“We’re looking for a man named Jack,” you say, before the man with the rifle has a chance to decide what to do next, “We found his sister in Nebraska, she’d escaped from slavers with her baby boy,” you nod down at baby Jack in your arms. “She was dying and asked us to find her brother and bring her son to him.”

You see how the woman with the dog and the man exchange a look, a blink of recognition, before the woman speaks up.

“The woman, her name was Julia?” she asks and both you and Frankie nod.

“Yes!” you exclaim, “Do you know her?”

The man with the rifle holds up his hand but the woman answers anyway, “Did she say what Jacks’ last name was?”

“No...” you hesitate, “she only said the boy’s name is Jack Connolly and that he was named after her brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people.”

“We were heading for White River,” the woman replies, “Jack, his last name was Connolly too, was with us until two months ago. I’m sorry, but he died.”

“We didn’t know him,” Frankie says, “and we didn’t know Julia either, but I’m sorry to hear he died. It would’ve been nice to bring baby Jack to his family.”

“Juan,” the man with the rifle says, looking at a man somewhere in the tree line, “don’t let them move, I need to talk to Maria.” He motions to the woman with the dog to follow him back into the trees, out of earshot. You glance over at Frankie who’s still standing five steps away from you and he gives you a small smile, but you can see the concern in his eyes.

You look back down at baby Jack, sleeping in your arms now. You had been thinking about the possibility of not finding his uncle, and then you and Frankie would have to take care of him, but it had been a vague ‘what if?’. Having a child of your own with Frankie had never been an option ever since the outbreak, not even in the relative safety of Arlington or Boston. But taking care of an orphan child who really has no one else, that seemed like a very easy decision to make when you were faced with it. But Jack was never yours, you were only taking care of him until you found his family. But now? If his uncle was gone, you felt responsible for him, for the promise you’d made to his mother. Looking down at him, you couldn’t help reflecting over how strange it felt to suddenly be an adoptive parent of this little boy.

The man and the woman called Maria come back through the trees and wave Frankie and you over.

“Alright, I’m Patrick, this is Maria. Sorry about the curt welcome committee, we can’t be too careful about people out here.”

“Yeah, we get that,” Frankie says, taking Patrick’s outstretched hand. “I’m Frankie and this is my wife.”

You shake Patrick’s hand and then Maria’s, giving them your name.

“You seem like decent people, and you have Jack’s nephew to care for, so we’d like to give you two options,” Maria says, looking between the two of you, “We have a settlement not too far from here, you’re welcome to come with us and seek shelter. We’ll have to confiscate your guns until we know we can trust you and we’ll expect you to help out with whatever you can. If you don’t like it, you’ll be free to leave whenever you want.” She looks at you and then down at Jack sleeping in your arms, “But I think that once you see how the community works, that you’ll be able to keep baby Jack safe, you’ll want to stay,” she smiles at the little boy, as he stirs in his sleep, his little hand waving free from the blanket. “He actually looks like his uncle, does he have blue eyes too?”

“Yeah, he does, big blue eyes,” you smile, looking at Jack and tucking in his arm again.

“So what do you think?” Patrick asks and you glance over at Frankie, it sounds almost too good to be true, but if this is the group Jack’s mother wanted you to seek out with her son then maybe it’s worth a shot.

“What’s the second option?” Frankie asks.

“We leave you to fend for yourself out here, no hard feelings. But we would prefer it if you came with us. Every person we leave out here is a potential infected down the line.”

“But we’d really like you to come to Jackson with us, especially seeing as you have the baby. Jack was a good man and we’d like to make sure his nephew is safe,” Patrick says and from the corner of your eye you see several of the other people nod.

“Can I talk to my wife in private for a minute?” Frankie says and Maria nods and steps back a little with Patrick. Frankie takes your hand and you walk to the other side of the fire.

“What do you think, cariño?” he asks in a low voice, his fingers threading between yours.

“I think it might be worth the risk to trust them,” you say, “They seem genuine.”

Frankie nods, “I think it might be our best chance at getting to a safe place, even if our plan was to get somewhere safe just you and me.”

“But with baby Jack, we could really need a community, it’s not just you and me,” you say, stroking your hand over the baby’s head. It’s only been a few days but you’re already feeling very protective of him.

“Yeah, and about him, with his uncle dead, I guess it’s on you and me to take care of him? Are we gonna be his parents?” Frankie looks down at Jack, you can see his eyes soften as gently caresses the rosy cheek with his finger.

“It’s not how I imagined this ending but I don’t think I could give him up now, could you? I feel responsible for him after what we promised his mother.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking the same,” Frankie says, looking back up at you, “So I guess we’re parents now and we go with Maria and Patrick? At least to check it out? Hopefully they meant what they said about us leaving if we don’t want to stay, but I think we can risk it?”

You nod and together you walk back to others.

“Alright,” Frankie says, “We’ll hand over our guns and come with you. We feel responsible for baby Jack and it seems you might be the option to keep him safe.”

Maria nods, “I’m happy you think that, I hope you’ll wanna stay with us once you see what we’re building.” She turns and waves forward a younger man, “Ned, get Winston please, if you can ride with Nellie on the way back these two can ride him with the baby. She turns back to you, “Winston is a very steady and gentle horse, he’ll keep you safe on the ride back.”

The horses had been left out of earshot of the camp and you’re delighted to see a small herd of them once you’ve packed up. Winston turns out to be a large bay horse who lets you reach up and stroke his soft nose while he nickers gently. Frankie swings himself into the saddle with ease and a happy look, giving the horse a pat on the neck. You hand Jack to him and Maria helps you hang your packs on the side of the saddle before you get on behind Frankie.

“All these years, Frankie,” you smile as the group sets out, “and I never knew you were such a cowboy.” You’ve got your arms around his waist, Jack is safely tucked into the makeshift pouch on his chest.

“My uncle had horses,” he says, “and he taught me how to ride, just haven’t done it in years, but it’s like riding a bike.” He clicks his tongue and Winston sets off, following Maria and Patrick’s horses. “How about you, are you ok back there?” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” you bury your nose in his soft shirt, holding on to him, “I was never a great rider but I know how to stay on at least.”

“Just hang on to me, cariño, Winston and me won’t let you fall.”

The ride back to the group's camp only takes a couple of hours, Maria and Patrick leading the way cross country rather than following the road. The sky lightens and Maria rides up next to you and points down a hill towards a large lake.

“That’s Jackson,” she says, “and that’s the dam we’re trying to get fixed. If we manage we’ll have electricity.”

“That’s the dam we saw on the map, cariño,” Frankie says, “We were thinking about coming here and seeing if it was fixable.”

“Do you know anything about how hydroelectric dams work?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows at Frankie and he shakes his head.

“No, not really, not more than the theory of it. But I’m used to fixing a lot of different things, I used to be a pilot before the outbreak.”

“I don’t want to get into it now, but we will have a conversation with the two of you later about what skills you have that can be useful for the community,” Maria says as the group rides up a large gate set in the wall surrounding the town. “But for now, let's get you settled, it’s been a long night for us all.” She waves to the men guarding the gate and someone on the inside pulls it open.

“We’ll put you up in one of the empty houses for now, we’ve cleaned them all out and there’s sheets and pillows in most of them.”

You look around you as the horses pass through the gate. The sky is light, the sun almost up, and it casts a golden glow over the western themed houses. Maria points down the street and you see a wood barricade at the end of it.

“Down there is the rest of the town, we’ve only walled off this smaller area so far, it was already a gated community so we built on the existing walls.”

“Is the rest of the town cleared of infected?” Frankie asks and Maria nods.

“Yeah, we had to do it bit by bit, but we cleared the last house a month ago. But it’s outside the wall so it’s not completely safe, we still get infected wandering in sometimes.That’s why we have guards and patrols to handle them and any potential raiders.”

She leads you to the stables and you dismount, Ned comes over and takes Winston’s reins.

“I’ll get him dried off, just go with Maria and get settled,” he says with a smile and Frankie slides off, one hand on Jack and then gives you a hand down. You yawn wide as you get down, the sleepless night is catching up with you as you feel safer.

Maria leads you to a small house near the outskirts of the gated community and opens the door.

“This will be your place for now, or at least if you decide to stay with us,” she says, motioning you inside. “There’s no food here, come to the mess hall for that. But try to get some rest first, there’s a crib for Jack in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“Thanks Maria, we’re very grateful for your help,” you say and she gives you a quick nod.

“I’m sure you’re hoping you didn’t make a mistake in trusting us, and I’m hoping we didn’t make a mistake in trusting you,” she says, “We’re a small community and we need decent people to keep this place safe and thriving, I hope my gut feeling about you two is correct.”

“It is, we’re just looking for somewhere good and safe to settle down, even before we found baby Jack,” Frankie says, “If you are who you say you are, we’ll be happy to help build the community.”

“Good, that’s great to hear,” she says, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you both later today, there’s firewood outback if you want to heat up water and clean up.”

With that she leaves, closing the door behind her, and you find yourself alone with Frankie in a house, a safe house, for the first time in years.

“Hermosa,” Frankie slides his arm around your waist, “you look dead on your feet, c’mon, let’s sleep before we do anything else.”

You nod, yawning big again and letting Frankie guide you up the stairs to the second floor where you found what looks like a master bedroom. The house looks well preserved despite all the years it’s been abandoned and there’s pillows and sheets with thick blankets on the bed. It looks very inviting and you groan at the sight of it. Sliding off your backpack you sit down on the bed while Frankie smiles at you, bouncing Jack on his arms. He’d woken up during the ride but now he’s yawning again.

“I’ll find the crib for Jack,,” Frankie says, “Just go to bed, cariño, I’ll be right there.”

You give him a grateful nod and start unlacing your boots and peeling off your clothes. Everything you own is grimy and unwashed but you find your least dirty t-shirt and change into it. As you pull back the sheets Frankie comes yawning through the door.

“The crib is in the room across the hall,” he says, “Jack fell asleep instantly but I left the door open so we’ll hear him if he wakes up.”

“Hopefully he’s as tired as us and we can get a few hour’s sleep,” you yawn, sliding into the bed as Frankie starts pulling off his clothes. It doesn’t take him long to climb in next to you. You yawn again and Frankie pulls you into his arms, tucking your head in under his chin.

“Sleep, hermosa, I think we’re safe here for now,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair and you feel yourself slip into sleep without even trying. The last thing you register is Frankie’s lips against your cheek.

When you wake up a few hours later you think for a minute that you’re in a dream. You’re warm under the covers, Frankie’s arm is wrapped around your waist and you can feel his shallow breaths against your neck. The bed under you is soft and a shaft of sunlight is filtering in through the closed curtains, hitting a painting of a mountain landscape. You let your eyes drift around the room and take it in as you slowly remember where you are; Jackson, a safe place at last.

Frankie stirs behind you, tightening his grip around your waist, “Morning, cariño,” he mumbles and pushes his nose into your hair, inhaling and kissing your neck.

“More like ‘afternoon’,” you smile, reaching back and threading your fingers through his curls.

“Mhmm…I slept like a log,” he rolls over and stretches out, pulling you with him so that you end up half on top of him. You lean your chin on his chest and trace your fingers through his scruffy beard.

“Me too, and it seems like Jack did too,” you mumble, kissing his chest as he strokes your hair. And right on cue, Jack whimpers from the room across the hall and begins to cry.

“I’ll get him,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed, “he’s probably hungry, it’s been hours since he ate.”

“I know how he feels,” Frankie mutters, “I’m starving, we should see if we can give him the last of the spagettios and then go to the mess hall Maria mentioned.” He sits up and shoves his fingers through his curls, making them stand on end.

While you get Jack and get him to stop crying, Frankie gets the camping stove out and heats up some food.

“Hey, look,” he calls from downstairs, “someone’s left some supplies on the porch.” He comes in with a bag as you bring Jack down. “Looks like some clean clothes both for us and Jack, and some diapers.” He holds up some reusable diapers, “they’ve thought of everything.”

He comes over to Jack and gives his little belly a poke, “did you poop your pants, little man? Yeah, you did, I can smell you.” Frankie chuckles as Jack giggles and squeals. “Do you wanna do food or poop?” he asks you with a grin and you immediately hand Jack over to him.

“Food, you’re on poop duty,” you reply, grinning back at him and Frankie makes a grimace.

“Knew you’d say that, cariño,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Too late now, Frankie,” you laugh and grab the last can of spagettios from his backpack.

Frankie starts cleaning up Jack as you warm the food and when Jack’s got a clean diaper on Frankie comes over.

“I was thinking about what Maria said before,” he says, setting Jack down on the counter and holding on to him, “About everyone doing what they can to help out this community.”

“You’re thinking about what they’ll say if you tell them about your background?”

“Yeah…” he trails off, watching Jack open his mouth for a first spoonful of pasta. “I’m not going to tell them about the PTSD or the drugs, it’s none of their business and I’ve got it under control. But if I tell them about my army background, they’ll want me to do patrols, and I’d like to do that, if you’re ok with it?” Frankie looks over at you, his eyebrows drawn together in that slightly worried look.

“I can’t imagine doing patrols and guard duty here is anything like what it was like with FEDRA, Frankie,” you say, putting your hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze, “And if you start feeling it, please Frankie….” you gently take his chin between your thumb and finger and give him a little tug with every word, “You’ve. Got. To. Tell. Me.” You look into his warm brown eyes and he gives you a crooked smile.

“I know, no more hiding things,” he nods, taking your hand from his chin and pressing his warm lips to your palm, “I promise, for real this time.”

“Good. Because we didn’t just go through all that shit and travel halfway across the country for you to do all of that again,” you smile as he pulls you in by your hand and leans his forehead against yours.

“I promise, I really, really mean it, no more lies, no more hiding, I’m going to be what you deserve now, cariño.” He dips his head and finds your lips, one hand still holding on to Jack who’s gurgling happily on the counter, the other slipping around your neck and holding you just as close as the little boy.

Once Jack is fed and changed you heat up some water on the old wood fired stove. The old house you’re in has a modern kitchen but both the living room and the kitchen have the old fireplace and stove and plenty of firewood stacked next to them. You light a fire and Frankie gets water from the hand cranked well outside. It’s not exactly a hot shower or bath but it’s warm water to wash in and you take the chance to wash some of your clothes too, hanging them to dry in front of the fire before you leave for the mess hall.

The mess hall is easy to find, it’s the largest building in the old gated community and used to be the community center. Someone has made a rough wooden sign and it hangs over the door of the western style building. Frankie holds Jack on his hip, his other hand holding yours as you walk down the main street towards the hall. You can’t help but glance at Frankie and Jack. It’s almost hard to believe the change that Frankie’s undergone in just a few weeks since you left Boston. The withdrawals had left him haggard and tired looking, and you know he’d struggled with the more psychological symptoms longer than the physiological symptoms. But traveling further away from Boston had changed his mood and with the added responsibility of Jack, a child to care for, you started seeing a version of Frankie that you hadn’t seen since before the outbreak. You don’t think he’s even realizing it himself but you’re seeing how he’s slowly turning back into the dad he was to Lucía, treating Jack like a son even though he might not be ready to see him as such. At least not yet.

Now he bounces Jack on his hip, tickling the boy's chin as Jack happily gurgles up at him and you see Maria smiling at the two of them as you enter the mess hall.

“Hey there, I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says, coming over and smiling at Jack who gives her a toothless grin.

“Thanks for the supplies,” you say, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

“Yeah, I thought you might need some things to feel a bit more human after traveling for as long as you have.” She gestures to a cantina set up at one end of the room, “Have some food and come and sit down with us.”

You grab some bowls of rich looking stew and say hello to the woman overseeing the cantina. She’s delighted by Jack’s gurgling smile and gives him a small bowl of fresh blueberries that she mashes up with some honey.

“Someone kept bees in one of the gardens before the outbreak,” she says, “so we now have a huge bee colony and more honey than what we know what to do with.”

You thank her and join Maria and Patrick at a table in a corner of the mess hall. The stew is warm and hearty, and you have to pace yourself or you’ll inhale it, hungry as you are by now. Maria and Patrick let you finish your food before Patrick leans forward and leans his elbows on the table.

“So, you seem like decent folk, but I’m sure you understand we’d like to know a bit more about you now that you’ve had a chance to see our community.”

You both nod and Maria looks at you, “Where have you come from?”

“Originally, when the outbreak happened, Arlington, a town down south. But we’d been in Boston for about five years by the time we left.”

“What made you leave? You’re a long way from Boston and it’s a dangerous journey,” Patrick glances between you and Frankie and Frankie answers first.

“Have you heard of a group that calls themselves The Fireflies?” he asks and both Maria and Patrick nod, “They were causing a bit too much trouble in the QZ. They blew up a guard station, a truck, and FEDRA responded as you can imagine, making life very difficult. So we decided to leave.” Frankie glances over at you and takes your hand and rubs little circles into your skin, “We met a year before the outbreak, she’s been my wife for over ten years and I wouldn’t have survived without her, luckily for me she was willing to risk it all and come with me when it became necessary to leave Boston.”

Frankie’s telling a truncated version of the story behind why you left but for now, there’s no need for anyone to know anything else.

“She used to work the civilian radio in Boston and we know the Fireflies are making trouble all across the QZ’s so at first we just planned to get away from Boston and find an isolated farm and try to survive on our own, how long that would be didn’t really matter, as long as she was with me.” Frankie continues to tell the story of your journey across the Midwest, ending with how you found Jack and his mother and how you stole the slavers’ pickup.

“We’ve heard about slavers from some of the people who have joined our community,” Maria says, “the outbreak really brought out the worst kind of behavior from certain people.”

“We’ll certainly make use of your radio skills,” Patrick says to you, “there’s a radio tower nearby that we haven’t managed to fix yet, we need to fix the dam first, but you might be able to help us with the radio when it comes time for that.”

You nod, “I can fix most things on the particular model we had in Boston, if we have the right parts, but Frankie’s the real fixer.”

“What have you worked with, Frankie?” Maria asks and you see Frankie inhale, there’s so much trauma connected to what he did both before and after the outbreak, and you take hold of his hand, squeezing it lightly, giving him your support, and you can tell both Maria and Patrick senses the tension.

“Before the outbreak I was retired from the army,” Frankie begins, trying to keep his hand from nervously shooting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m ex special ops, Delta Force, I was a helicopter pilot, a soldier.”

You can see Maria and Patrick exchange a quick glance and Patrick nods, “I’m not gonna lie, Frankie, we live under constant threat of raiders and infected here, to have someone with your background on our side would be a great help.”

“I realize that, and so did FEDRA, they recruited me in exchange for letting myself and my wife stay in the QZ we got to at the beginning of the outbreak. But I didn’t stay with them for too long, their ways of doing things…” Frankie trails off and shakes his head. “So, we,” he glances at you, “did what we needed to do to stay alive. We both smuggled, got stuff into the QZ’s we were in both for our own survival and benefit. But we did good too, I hope,” he looks at you again and you nod.

“We did good, Frankie, you know that. We brought in medicine and supplies that FEDRA was denying the population.”

“Everyone here has lived under FEDRA rule,” Maria says and Patrick nods in agreement, “we know all too well what it’s like. I don’t judge you for being smugglers, as long as you’re good people.”

You feel Frankie tense up at the last words, but he bites his tongue as you squeeze his hand.

“We stopped smuggling a while back though,” he says instead, “I couldn’t handle the risk it put her in,” he looks at you and his eyes soften as you smile at him, “and then, when it got more dangerous, I didn’t want to risk leaving her behind alone if something would happen to me.”

“Well, we don’t need smugglers here, but we do need good guards and we all take turns doing guard duty or go on patrols,” Maria says, “We run this place like a commune, everything we have is owned by everyone, and we share the resources we bring in.”

“I’m in charge of the hunting parties,” Patrick says, “so if either one of you is a good hunter, let me know. We eat mainly meat that we trap or shoot, but it’s hard work feeding everyone.”

“Our crops are starting to ripen, we’ve worked hard all year to cultivate local crops and we hope to have greenhouses too at some point. But for that, we need electricity, so that’s our first priority,” Maria explains, “but we’ll give you some time to settle in today and I’ll show you around tomorrow.”

“Frankie, if you don’t mind, can I take you up to the dam tomorrow?” Patrick asks and Frankie nods.

“Yeah, sure, whatever works for you,” he replies, “If you’re ok with taking Jack tomorrow, cariño?”

You nod and Maria reaches over the table and strokes the baby’s hand, “We don’t have any babies here, yet at least, but we hope that Jackson will be safe enough for people to raise families in the future.” She looks up at you and Frankie and seems to hesitate, “I know you two accidentally became Jack’s caretakers, but I get the sense that you’d like to continue to care for him?”

You both nod, “We feel responsible for him now,” you say as Frankie puts a protective hand around Jack and smiles at him, “and we did promise his mom to keep him safe, at least until we could find his uncle, and with him gone, that feels more important than ever.”

“What happened to his uncle?” Frankie asks, looking up again and Patrick grimaces and shakes his head.

“It was two clickers, three of us were clearing out one of the last houses in Jackson, outside the gated community, and we'd killed three runners and heard nothing else. But they were inside a shed in the yard and came rushing out as we approached. Jack was unlucky, got bit as we took them down.”

“We’ve been here just over six months now and we’ve lost three good people to raiders and infected,” Maria says, “and it never gets easier. But we’ve learned a lot from each death, we’re safer now, better guarded.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Frankie says, “but you seem to have built up a good perimeter defense, judging by what we saw when we rode in.”

“I would love to have your eyes on it, Frankie,” Patrick says, “give us some advice on improvements.”

Maria gives a low chuckle, “Give the man a break, Pat, he’s been here all but two minutes and you’ve already commandeered his time.”

“It’s alright,” Frankie said, shaking his head, “No problem at all, if we’re staying here I’m more than happy to help out in any way I can to keep this place as safe as possible.”

“Speaking of staying then,” Maria says, smiling at you and Jack now, “why don’t you have a wander around Jackson, and see what we have to offer. It’s not big but I think it’ll give you an idea about what we’re trying to build here and we’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say and Frankie nods, shaking Patrick’s offered hand.

“Welcome to Jackson.”

It doesn’t take you long to see all of Jackson, the community is clearly very small but like Maria had said, you could see what they were planning. People were working on a number of projects around the small gated community and the park in the center had given way to crops that looked almost ready to harvest. The garden of one of the biggest houses has been converted into a stable yard and a stable is almost fully built up against the wall that surrounds the community. You say hello to Winston and Ned, who turns out to be the one responsible for Jackson’s horses.

At the furthest end of the small town is the slaughterhouse, where fresh game has been brought in by two women and hung up, the blood trickling from two white tail deer.

As you wander back towards the house you’re staying at, Frankie hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“This all feels very…normal,” he says, “like maybe they have a chance at making this work.”

“Normal, apart from the infected and the raiders?” you say, looking up at the high wall that surrounds the small community, guards with rifles patrolling at the top.

“Yeah, but Maria and Patrick seem to have the right idea about how to run this place, so maybe they can make it work,” Frankie glances around the small town, “It’s kinda like the settlers in the old west. You were somewhat safe in the towns but it was dangerous to travel outside them. The biggest problem with what’s happened after the outbreak isn’t the infected, it’s how FEDRA handled the situation.”

You’ve arrived at the house and Jack’s fallen asleep so you put him down and join Frankie out on the porch.

“So what do you think?” he says, pulling you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you think we should stay here and make a go of it?”

“I think so, Frankie, if you think you’ll be alright with patrols and guard duty?”

“Yeah, I think so…” he rubs his hand up and down your back, looking out over the small street the house is on, “It’s not for FEDRA, it’s for this place, for you and for Jack, to help keep you and this place safe.”

“I think you’ll be able to help them a lot too, you can use your skills for something that really makes a difference for this place.” You run your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, long enough now for you to wind around your fingers. Frankie’s looked away from the street and is looking at you, his warm brown eyes soft as he smiles up at you.

“And they have sturdy doors on these houses,” his hand has drifted up from your back to wrap around your neck and he’s gently pulling you closer to his lips. As you smile the pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks his plush bottom lip, you don’t even need to feel the bulge growing under you to know what he’s thinking about. You press your lips against his as he pulls you closer, his mouth opening to let you in with a low groan.

“Cariño,” he mumbles, “this is all I ever want,” his hand presses against your back as he deepens the kiss, “you and me in a quiet place where I can give you everything you deserve.”

“You deserve it too, Frankie,” you mumble, his hand tangling in your hair as his tongue slips in between your lips. You can feel him nod under you but you lose all train of thought as he bucks his hips under you.

“Fuck, hermosa…” he mutters, “we need to move inside or our new neighbors…”

You pull him up, take his hand and slip through the door while he wraps his arms around you from behind, kicking the door closed with his foot.

“Bring Jack upstairs and put him in the crib,” you say, as Frankie starts kissing your neck, pushing your hair out of the way.

“Do you really think we’ll make it upstairs,” he mutters, his hand already tugging at your t-shirt, slipping it under it and pushing under your bra.

“We have a kid now, Frankie,” you chuckle, “no sex in front of the baby.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he grumbles and pulls away from you, keeping it decent as he picks up Jack, carefully to not wake him, and follows you upstairs. Once Jack is safely nestled into his crib and the door closed but with a crack open in case he wakes up, Frankie comes into your bedroom with a smirk.

“You’re gonna need to be quiet or you’ll wake him and alert the neighbors, and I’m gonna make sure you really wanna scream my name, cariño…” he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you hold your finger up to him.

“Francisco Morales, you wouldn’t dare,” you wave the finger threateningly in front of him as he stalks across the room, making you back up until your legs hit the bed, his grin is lethal, all wicked intentions and mischief.

“Just let me take care of you, mi hermosa, mi amor de mi vida,” he croons, slipping his hands around your waist and gently pushing you back onto the bed, making you crawl up towards the top as he bends his head and starts kissing every inch of skin he can reach while peeling off your shirt, quickly followed by your pants. When his wide shoulders pushes your legs apart you groan and fall back against the sheets. You can feel his hot breath against your core as he settles down and grabs your thighs, kneading them and letting his fingers caress the soft skin.

“Frankie,” you sigh, reaching down and threading your fingers through his curls.

“Fuck…” he grumbles, “I’ve missed this, this sight, this smell, cariño, you’re so fucking sweet,” without warning he dips his head and runs his tongue through your folds, a long deep lick that ends at your clit. The sensation explodes through your nerve endings and you arch your back up, pressing your hips against his mouth.

“Did you miss this too, hermosa?” he chuckles, looking up at you from between your thighs, a smirk on his face, but before you get a chance to answer he dives back down, tasting every part of you as his nose circles around your clit but never really touching. The teasing makes you moan, canting your hips up against him and he pins you down with an arm over your middle.. When he slips in two fingers you’re already on the edge, with a whimper you cry his name, trying to keep your voice down. He pumps them slowly, curling them back as his lips seal around your clit. You glance down at him and he’s got his eyes on you, his black eyes are glowing as he watches you pant, your body taught as a bowstring.

He lifts his head slightly, his mouth hovering just over you and every one of his breaths sends tremors through your body.

“Come on, let me feel you come on my mouth and then I’ll fuck you, I wanna feel you around my cock so badly, cariño, you have no idea how hard I am…” he grinds his hips into the mattress, dragging the tip of his tongue over your clit again. His words and his eyes, still burning up your body makes you groan, barely able to keep looking at him. As his lips close around your clit again, ramping up the pressure, you throw your hand over your mouth, biting down hard on your lip as you moan. When you fall over the edge his fingers almost stop moving as you spasm around them but the rough pads keep pushing you through every wave that crashes over you. Frankie doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking over your clit as heat courses through your body until every muscle in your body relaxes and you fall back against the bed.

“So fucking good, cariño,” Frankie moans, trailing sticky kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, moving up to your hips, resting his head there and looking at you as he caresses your skin.

“Come up here and fuck me then, Frankie,” you mumble, reaching down for him and he groans, hiding his face against your hip, sucking a mark into you, making you hiss under him. His tongue comes out and soothes the mark before he sits up and quickly pulls off his shirt and pants before crawling up the bed, hooking his arm under your knee as he goes. He’s painfully hard and weeping, you can feel him drag over your leg, the contact makes him exhale sharply and he grabs his cock firmly. He slides the tip through your sensitive slick folds as he bends down and slips his tongue between your lips. You feel the familiar stretch of him as he pushes the blunt head into you, forcing your knee up higher and grinding his way deeper.

He gasps as you involuntarily clench down around him, “Bebita…fuck…so tight..I…I can’t fucking move…” With a deep groan he pulls out a little before slamming in deep again, making you bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Your arms come up around his neck and pull him down closer as he begins to move in earnest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moves in and out, slow at first but soon he picks up pace, groaning over you as his own high draws near. The familiar tingling is building inside you again as he hits a spot deep inside and he can feel you starting to tremble around him.

“C’mon…please…again, hermosa, fuck…” he pushes himself up on one elbow and looking down at you, his sweaty curls hanging over his forehead as his hand slides down and grabs your hip, “I’m…fuck…” he drops down with his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezing shut as your climax explodes through your body and you feel him follow, grinding deep. Both your moans mix in the air, all attempts at keeping quiet forgotten until you collapse on the damp sheets.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his face against your neck, “I came inside you, is it ok?”

“Yeah, I would’ve stopped otherwise, I forgot to tell you it was ok,” you mumble, kissing his damp forehead and pushing back his curls. As you start caressing his hair, scratching his scalp he snuggles deeper into your neck and sighs contentedly.

“I missed this so much, cariño,” he mumbles, “you and me, a bed, nothing else.”

“And a sturdy door?” you smile as his arm comes up around your body, his hand resting on your breast as his thumb lightly strokes across the nipple.

“Yeah, a sturdy door with a lock,” he nibbles at your neck, pressing light kisses along your jaw until he settles down again, humming under his breath.

“I wish there was some way we could let Will and Benny know about this place,” he says after a while. “It’d be good to have them here if they could make the journey.”

“Yeah, I miss them, and Eve and Diana,” you sigh, “and I think Maria and Patrick would love to have two more ex Delta Force guys here.”

Frankie rolls over, pulling you with him so that he can pull your back against his chest and wrap his arm around your waist, “We’ll keep an eye out, maybe we’ll figure something once we fix the dam,” he kisses the back of your head, tucking you in under his chin, “sleep now, cariño.”

…

Patrick comes by next morning and knocks on the door as you’re finishing up breakfast. Frankie grabs his pack and leaves after giving you a kiss and dropping a peck on Jack’s head. He makes you smile when you hear him give the baby instructions to behave and be a good boy for tu mamá .You hadn’t even thought about yourself as his mom, Julia was still his mom, but you guess Jack would have to call you something once he started talking, and Frankie seemed to have settled on mamá for now. It made your heart warm to hear his affection for the little boy, finding him and his mother had maybe been very lucky for you and Frankie, as well as for baby Jack.

For the first time in years, Frankie didn’t feel worried about leaving you behind as he left and went outside the safety a wall entailed. Jackson felt safe, not just because of the wall, but because of the people on the inside. He glanced back up at the gate as it closed behind him, it looked strong and sturdy, and the guards on top were alert.

Patrick, or Pat as he asked Frankie to call him, had brought a group of men and women on the short ride across to the Jackson dam. As they rode Pat pointed out how they’d started building a wall that would circle around the dam structure too.

“That way we won’t have to worry about raiders cutting the electricity once we get it up and running, or infected getting in,” he says, “both possibilities are something we have to take into account whenever we go to the dam now. We have to clear the dam compound every time.”

This time there’s nothing in the building or around it, and Pat leaves three guys to keep watch on the wall over the main entrance.

Together the crew looked over the different components and Pat explained to Frankie what parts they’ve been having problems with. It took them the better part of the day to figure out that something is blocking one of the mechanisms deep inside the dam, then another hour to find the right maintenance hatch and get it open. The tell tale sound of a clicker comes up from the deep hole as they wrench the hatch open. Ladders, however, seem to be something, infected can’t handle so it’s not too much of an issue to shoot the poor dam worker through the head as he scratches against the wall under the hatch. For good measure Frankie and Pat toss a few rocks into the maintenance tunnel and lower a flashlight to lure out any remaining infected. When they deem it safe enough Pat carefully climbs down while Frankie and another man, Walter, cover him.

“Alright, all clear down here,” Pat’s voice comes back up from the tunnel and Frankie climbs down, followed by Walter.

They follow the tunnel down to the entrance in the dam wall and climb out, spotting the problem immediately. A large mess of plastic scraps and synthetic rope has tangled into the mechanism and it takes an hour to clear it without creating further damage. Eventually the machinery turns smoothly and Walter remains behind as Frankie and Pat climb back up to the main operating room.

“Now, if we’ve done everything right, things should work now, and the first turbine will start generating enough electricity to start the main turbines and produce electricity for the town,” Pat hoover his hand over a button and gives Frankie a tight smile, “So far, this hasn’t worked once, so fingers crossed, Frank.”

He pushes the button and in the distance they hear machinery kicking into gear, running for a few seconds before shutting down.

“Fuck…” Pat mumbles, scratching his head, “that’s more than we’ve had before but I don’t know why it shut down.”

“It sounded like it started fine but short circuited,” Frankie says, “Let me open up and check behind the console.”

“Let me know if you need anything, I’m gonna go check on the turbines,” Pat says, leaving Frankie to grab a set of mismatched tools and pry open the console. He sees the issue as soon as he opens it, a thin tendril of smoke is rising from one of the wires, the insulation has corroded and it’s touching another wire. It’s a matter of minutes to rewire it and make sure the inside is protected from any dampness. Once the dam is up and running the heating will keep this dry and protected.

“Pat,” Frankie calls, “I’ve fixed I think, let’s try it again.”

Pat comes back and motions to Frankie to hit the button, “Do the honors, you’re the one who fixed the last bit.”

“Here goes nothing,” Frankie grimaces and gently pushes the button again. This time the machinery kicks into gear, running smoothly for a couple of minutes until a louder rumble starts up, the main turbines starting to turn and suddenly, making both men startle, lights flood the room their in, lights go on all over the console and static starts pouring out of an abandoned radio on the window sill.

“Oh shit! It worked! It fucking works!” Patrick yells, punching the air before clapping Frankie on the shoulder with a big grin. From the outside they can hear yells of delight from the other men and women of the work party. They go out to join them, leaning over the edge of the dam and watching the water pump through the turbine hall and the lights in the lamps lining the edge flicker to life.

“All the cables feeding electricity to Jackson are underground so we’re hoping they’re unharmed, the town should have electricity now!” Pat says, grinning widely, “Come on, let’s head back and make sure everything’s working.”

Three of the guys are staying behind to keep guard and make sure the dam runs smoothly, they’re to be relieved in a few hours, for a night shift.

“We can’t leave the dam unguarded now,” Pat says, “and we might need to do something about the lights, black them out for now, so that we don’t draw too much attention to it.”

When they get back to the Jackson gate people are waiting for them, you’re there with Jack on your hip. The lights in the house had suddenly come on, a few of the light bulbs immediately broke, but the fridge started humming and the tv buzzed to life with loud static that startled Jack enough to make him cry. You had to run around and turn as much as possible off, checking what worked and what didn’t. The hot water boiler seemed to be working just fine and was full of water that was slowly heating up. Even the radiators came to life, warming the house. Maria had shown up a little while later, on her way to the gate.

“Let’s go greet our returning heroes,” she laughed, “I can’t believe we’ve got electricity!”

All of Jackson turned out, forming a crowd just inside the gate and everyone cheered as the work party, led by Pat, rode into town. Frankie quickly found you in the crowd, grinning wildly as he came over, his horse in tow.

“What a welcoming committee;” he grinned, bending to kiss you and then Jack.

“How does it feel to be a town hero on your second day, Frankie?” you laugh, hugging him tightly as he took Jack from you, putting him on his hip.

“Feels good, feels like coming home, cariño. Feels like coming home.”

Chapter 36

If anyone reading knows how a hydroelectric dam actually works, don't tell me all the mistakes I made, I'm playing fast and lose with the technical details here!

I'm also kinda playing lose with any abandonment issues Jack should, realistically, have after being taken from his mother at six months. But I'm excusing that by thinking that he probably didn't get to spend too much time with his mother anyway, in my mind Julia would've been forced to work straight after giving birth and Jack was left behind whenever the slavers wouldn't let her bring him to whatever work she was made to do (seriously, the last part of The Last of Us 2 is horrifying, it gives a very nasty view into how a slaver's camp worked in this world).

The song that Frankie sings to Jack is called Arroz con Leche and is a well known Latino lullaby. You can hear the version Frankie sings if you look for Arroz con Leche sung by Soleada Arboleda on Spotify!

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[lewmagoo]

How do you think Rhett feels when he comes home from working a particularly hard day and you are just...all up on him? Like, you've just been thinking about him all day and just getting all worked up, more needy than usual for him...😇

he was sweaty and dirty and exhausted. all day, he’d been dreaming of coming home to you, and the safe haven that was your farmhouse. you, on the other hand, had been dreaming about something entirely different. you weren’t sure what had come over you, but you’d been burning with the fires of desire ever since you got out of bed that morning. all you could think about was how badly you wanted your husband. and instead of trying to distract yourself, you allowed your mind to wander to an elaborate fantasy. one in which he came in from working the pastures all day and had his way with you. and now he was finally home, and you were drawn to him like a fly to honey.

“hey, darlin’,” he greeted as you approached him. he was kicking his boots off as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “missed you,” you spoke, leaning in to kiss him. his own arm came up to encircle your waist, and he smiled tiredly at you. “yeah? i missed y’ too. thought about you all day,” he admitted. you bit your lip. “oh? funny, because i thought about you all day, too.” you kissed the corner of his mouth this time. then you kissed down his scruffy jaw. he smelled like sweat and dirt. he was very much in need of a shower. but something about it was so sexy to you. you were getting drunk off his scent. “somethin’ tells me you were thinkin’ filthy thoughts,” came his remark. you nipped at his jawbone and he gasped. “yep,” you sighed. “been thinkin’ about bad i need you inside me. i tried to take care of it with my fingers, but they’re too small. they don’t fill me up like your cock does, daddy.” and oh, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

rhett’s eyes darkened, and his large hand came up to cup your cheek. “yeah? poor thing, too little to take care of it yourself.” he grabbed your hand and placed it over his crotch. “need a big strong daddy to do it for ya.” and oh, how you whimpered at those words. “yes sir, please. need it so bad it hurts.” and he shushed you gently. “and i’m gon’ give it to you, i promise. go bend over the kitchen table. and take your panties off so i can see how wet that little pussy of your’n is.” and who were you, if not his obedient little pet? you did as he asked, ridding yourself of your underwear and baring your cunt to your man. he hummed lowly as he approached you. but not before he stopped to wash his hands, always mindful about handling your sensitive parts with dirty hands. then deft fingers parted swollen folds. “i’m gonna give this pussy everything she wants, don’t you worry.” and rhett always made good on his promises.

[vhagarlovebot]

could you please write something with aemond growing a scruffy beard or some juicy juice like that? 👉🏻🥺👈🏻

gwen’s thoughts: this was supposed to be smutty but went into a different direction, sorry!

“good morning, my beautiful wife.” you hear aemond’s voice as you fight against the sleep still on your body. opening your eyes you find your husband smiling down at you.

it’s a breathtaking view. his messy hair falls on his face, one lilac and one blue eye greeting you, his pale and soft chest painted with little red and purple hickeys, a reminder of the night you spent together.

“good morning, handsome.” you brush a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers feeling his four-day beard stubble.

aemond leans in to kiss you and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips as you try to move away from him. he frowns, looking at you confused, leaning one more time just for you to turn your cheek to him.

“it tickles!” aemond smirks, grabbing your wrists to pin them above your head with one of his hands while the other one grabs your chin to make you look at him.

your husband smiles teasingly as he leans again, this time to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble making you squirm and laugh out loud. he just rubs his face against your neck and cheeks while he laughs too, enjoying this moment just as much as you.

“what? you don’t like it?” he asks, giving you a little time to breathe and calm yourself, chest heaving and cheeks red.

“of course i do like it,” he lets go of your wrist and you don’t hesitate to cradle his face, brushing your thumb over his that growing beard you’re getting used to see and feel every time he kisses you. “it makes you look… hot.”

aemond snorts, rolling his violet eye at you. “well, let’s see if it tickles you elsewhere.”

[en-geneisaxx]

Pairings: Kita x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, romance, academic rivals to lovers

A/n: Happy birthday imagine for one of my husbands → Kita!

Wc: 873

Please like, reblog and/or follow me! ♡

“I don’t…need…your help…” You sleepily groaned as you continued your scruffy handwriting to write down more things about the upcoming fundraiser you and your smart vice-president were responsible for. The white kitsune with black tips was undeniably wise and handsome, something you’ve coveted about him. You guys were academic rivals – in your eyes at least.

“It would be faster to get the task finished if I did, and you look quite dead with your current state,” He notions at your eyebags and the countless yawns that slipped past your lips, and that slumped posture of yours. “And, this is affecting my routine, so I would like to get back on track as soon as possible.”

“‘Don’t give a damn about your routine, I didn’t even ask you to help anyway, you should’ve just let me do it by myself.”

“And embarrass ourselves because you never got it completed by the deadline? I won’t have that.” He notes down ideas, too, as he prepares himself for a blacked-out version of you. “Also, even if we did complete this, someone might have thought I did it with my zombie-looking president.” 

You huff, because you honestly wished you could sleep at that moment, head squeezing in pain due to you overworking yourself. But, you wanted to make a moment where your parents would be proud of you. Being stuck in a dilemma, you helplessly sob, startling the volleyball captain. 

“I’m so tired…so so tired…but I…my parents…” You started becoming immobile, only letting out tears as you closed your weary eyes. Though Kita wasn’t experienced with such situations, he gently pulled you into his warm embrace, rubbing your back and stroking your hair simultaneously as you deeply sighed with exhaustion.

“It’s ok to take a break, especially while I’m here.” He attempts to comfort, possibly bringing in his own personal feelings for you. 

“Kita…parents…” 

“I’m just helping out, is that so bad?” He asks innocently, angling his head so he sees your worn-out figure, illuminated by the orange glow of the sunset. He truly felt bad for you, even knowing about this academic competition you swore to win. 

By then, your mind was more willful than your heart, with you dreaming off into your imagination. He places your head on his shoulder, picking up his pen as he finishes off the last bits of writing. Knowing he has a test soon, he slowly takes his flashcards, using all his limbs to pick up his bag so as not to disturb you. While he silently revises, his mischievous cubs sneak into the classroom, tiptoeing despite knowing that their captain has noticed them. The blond-haired fox masks his face with his hand, desperately trying to hold in his animalistic cackles as he sees your sleeping figure on his robotic captain’s body. 

“‘Cap,” He starts, wheezing once he meets up with Kita’s glare. He desperately clings onto his silver-haired incarnation of himself, who also mimics the actions. The green-eyed fox recorded the moment, taking it from every angle as he slyly smiled. Regaining only a little bit of composure, he resumes, “it seems that your president is sleeping on your shoulder, am I correct?” His eyebrows are raised in amusement as he sees his captain look at him with a skeptical look on his face. 

“‘Tsumu, remember: she’s Cap's girl.” He quietly chuckles out, hand covering his mouth. 

“But this is so unfair!” Atsumu whisper-shouted, hands pointing at you, “You would torture us if we ever slept a wink midday!” 

“Then why not do it back?” The videographer Suna suggests. He waves his phone teasing, a pleased grin spread across his lips as he sees Kita’s eyes bulge. 

“Suna…” Kita pleads, voice lowered as he sees you twitch. 

“Oh, can’t disturb the sleeping princess, am I right?” Rintaro says with a mockingly posh accent that he could possibly imitate. 

“Cap,” Osamu gives his advice, “if you want the girl, just make her the winner. We all know she wants to beat you, and that you have a massive crush on her.” A blush forms on Kita’s cheek from the straightforward statement. The twins giggle with a smiling fox as they leave the classroom. 

“My girl…” He thinks deeply, staring at your child-like writing. 

“Maybe I’ll let you beat me…” He looks at you fondly, “Just this once.” 

The deafening roar of applause from your class as you and Kita found out you were victors. However, you got most of the credit, earning more awards than Kita, something you’ve worked so hard for. Once you two got off the stage, walking towards your friends, Kita held your hands to stop you in your tracks of being able to boast about your victory. 

“Now now, love. Lemme get my words out first, yeah? | He adjusts your body so you are facing him. 

“Believe it or not, dummy, I think I’ve made a first time with you: first time having a crush. I’ll only give you right now to decide: be mine or be left behind.” He takes a step back so that he could spread out his arms for a response, smiling. 

“I’ll still compete with you…” You jokingly grumble, feigning annoyance as you secretly screamed inside.

“Ha,” He heartily chuckles,

“Well then, I guess you’ll always be my winner.”

[aziraphales-library]

hi, I'm currently looking for a crossover fic of good omens and beetlejuice on Broadway and i hope you can help :)

Hey. I can find three Beetlejuice crossover fics...

BeetleJuice, BeetleJuice, BeetleJuice! Uncle Crowley, Uncle Zira what are you doing here? by Cornuts360 (T)

Post Beetlejuice the Musical. The Them has decided. To toy around with demons. Adam is completely fine with that. It's normal teenager stuff anyways. They heard a rumor that if someone says Beetlejuice three times, a demon would be summoned.

Abeezlejuice by astral_gravy, Augenblickgotter (T)

Crowlydia morbidly moves into the house of their recently departed friends Anathema and Newt. Their stuffy parents don't believe the possible proof that the young couple could still be lurking spectrally about. And to make their dismal life worse, their scruffy uncle, Shadwell, is also moving in the mansion. What is a misunderstood morose person to do? Look for help in that handy ‘Agnes Nutter's Nice and Accurate Guide to the Recently Deceased’, and maybe call a very helpful Ghost with the Most.

Go Ahead, Make My Millenia by sailorwednesday (G) (Abandoned)

what happens when the ineffable husbands meet Lydia Deetz, historian of the occult, and Greta Helsing, physician to London's monster community? simply put: shenanigans. this is a labor of love and probably will be quite long, mostly fluffy, posting updates sporadically! --- 01/11/21 update: hey y'all, i am so appreciative of the love on this fic. A lot has changed in my life since i started writing it and i just can't get back to the characters as i had imagined them for this and don't like where my plot was going any more, so am officially calling it quits here. still stan all the original works ofc. just wanted to let you know this fic won't be finished, I hope you can understand. xx

And Aziraphale and Crowley also feature in this fic...

Could We Start Again Please by The_Cats_That_Haunt_The_Winter_Garden (M)

When Juno regenerates a month after the events of the musical, Beetlejuice reunites with the Deetzes and Maitlands to form a tentative truce and plan a way to keep Juno from killing them all.

- Mod D

[late-to-the-party-81]

Good Graces

AN: Cos Seb's latest looks have us all in a chokehold, but I'm too old to imagine him as my dad's best friend - so ex's best friend it is!

Beta'd by @sgt-seabass

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard and banner by me

Relationship: Ex's best friend Bucky Barnes x MILF Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

CW: Flirting, Lust at first sight, Explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, jerking, unprotected PinV sex (reader is on BC)), Secret sex.

When Lee, your ex-husband, had asked if he could bring a new friend with him to the twins party you inwardly rolled your eyes. He said it was for moral support - he was worried about judgemental looks and remarks from all your (his) old friends - but part of you thought he just wanted to show off his latest barbie doll. 

He may have cheated on you with Layla from his office, but you’d heard through the grapevine that it hadn’t lasted one month past your divorce. No doubt he’d found someone new. Young. Skinny. No stretch marks and no fupa. Fuck him.

However, for the twin’s sake you decided to be the bigger person and had agreed that it would be fine. Hopefully, with all the other folk coming, adults and kids, you’d be able to avoid him and his ‘friend’.

You were still running around like a headless chicken when he arrived. The garden was decorated, the bouncy castle was inflated (which your kids were currently testing out with a few of their friends who’d arrived early), but you were still bringing all the food outside to the table. 

Your dad had offered to man the grill, and was currently prodding coals with more intensity than you thought it needed, but it was keeping him out your hair. You loved your dad, and he loved you, but sometimes he was hard work. Not as hard work as Lee.

The gate hinges squealed and then the wood banged against the gate post as the closer swung it shut.

“Hey, darlin’.”

Lee stood, looking slightly awkward and slightly sweaty, two badly wrapped gifts in his arms. Hopefully he’d bought something from the list you sent him, unlike at Christmas.

You put on your best ‘guest welcoming’ smile.

“Hi Lee. Glad you could make it. The twins will be glad to see you.” You turned toward the bouncy castle.

“Cassie, Isaac, your father’s here.”

Your kids shouted with joy and jumped off the inflatable, and ran towards Lee.

“Daddy!”

He knelt and managed to put the presents down before the two barrelled into him. In moments like this you found it hard to still be angry with him. He might have been a useless husband and not always the best father, but he did love his kids.

You looked around, realising you didn’t see a stranger’s face, and wondered where his friend was. You were about to ask him about his mysterious guest when the gate opened again.

The breath froze in your lungs as the man pulled off his sunglasses. Tall, lean, brunet, a slight scruffy beard going to grey in places, with aquamarine eyes and laughter lines at their corners. His hair was slightly on the long side, curling up at the nape of his neck. Navy pants, a navy t-shirt and a navy suit jacket. It should have looked over the top for a kids birthday party, but somehow it didn’t.

He walked towards you, a smile on his face, hand outstretched.

“Hey, you must be Mrs Bodecker. I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes. Lee’s friend.”

Your nose screwed up a bit as he spoke.

“Please don’t call me that. I’ve only kept the name so the kids don’t get confused.”

He chuckled, not offended by your response in the least.

“Understandable, but I thought it might be a bit…” he looked you up and down, “... presumptuous to call you by your first name straight off.”

Call me whatever you want… and I’ll do whatever you want…

You tried to get your dirty mind under control. It was your kids' party for god’s sake. You must be more touch starved than you thought. Sex had never been high on your agenda; it had never been the mind-blowing, toe-curling experience your romance novels had made it out to be. But you hadn’t been totally adverse to it with Lee, especially at the beginning of your relationship.

However, this friend of his, Bucky, looked like sin on legs; like one of the hero’s from the cover of said romance novels. Just looking at him you wanted to throw caution to the wind, get a bit wild and a bit selfish.

“So, Bucky introduced himself to ya, darlin’?”

For once you were actually grateful to Lee. His reappearance by your side pulled you out of your erotic daydream.

“Lee, please. I’m not your darlin’ anymore.”

He dropped his head, chagrined, and you tried to ignore the brief quirk of Bucky’s plump pink lips.

“Sorry, force o’ habit. What do you need me to do?”

“Can you and Bucky keep an eye on the bouncy castle? There’s a couple of chairs set up. Just make sure the kids don’t have shoes on, or loose jewellery, and no more than 10 at a time.”

Bucky smiled at you over Lee’s shoulder.

“I’m sure we can manage that, eh bud?”

You smiled back. “Thanks.”

You made a quick escape then, darting back inside to get more food and also get yourself a cold drink. You were just putting the now empty glass on the draining board when your friend, and neighbour, Gabi, came in through the French doors.

“Who the heck is that hot guy with Lee?”

“He’s called Bucky. Apparently he’s a new friend. Gotta say, not the type of friend I was expecting Lee to bring, but I’m not disappointed.”

Turning, you opened the fridge and pulled out a bag of grapes. Gabi was grinning at you as you pulled each one off the stem and placed them on a platter.

“I’ll say! He’s rather yummy looking.”

“Gabs, you’re married!”

She plucked a grape off the platter and popped it in her mouth.

“Yeah, but I’m not dead. I can window shop. No harm in it. You on the other hand…” She looked at you with a sly smile and waggled her eyebrows.

“No. One, it’s the twins’ party. Two, I only met the man five minutes ago, and three I don’t need a man.”

Gabi rolled her eyes as you counted off your reasons on your fingers.

“I’m not telling you to jump him under the piñata. But you could get his number. And I’m not saying to start a relationship with him. I’m just saying that he looks like he knows how to please a woman.” She looked out of your kitchen and across the garden to where Bucky and Lee were organising the kids on the bouncy castle. “Look at those fingers! And I’ve noticed already that his tongue keeps trying to escape his mouth. Just think what he could do with those!”

“Not helping!”

“Pssshh, I’m helping plenty. Woman to woman- do it! You need a good dicking down. You deserve a good dicking down.”

You glared at her and she grinned, before throwing up her hands.

“Okay, okay. I won’t say another word on the subject.” She mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key and you could help but laugh.

“Come on, you perv.” You nudged your shoulder against hers. “Let’s get the rest of this food outside so my dad can start his slow but steady pace on the grill. Hopefully the fruit kebabs will keep the kids happy until the hotdogs are cooked.”

For the most part you managed to get on with the party, pandering to all the kids present, and ignored your unexpected, and distracting guest. It was difficult though, because somehow your ears had honed in on Bucky’s deep, syrupy voice, and everytime his melodious laughter rang out across your garden you found yourself looking toward him. And to make matters worse, when you did, his gaze seemed to lock with yours. He’d smile at you, eyes sparkling with mischief, and something more intimate that you were trying to ignore. Which was hard when he tipped back his head to swig from his beer bottle and a drop somehow escaped his lips and ran down his jaw, then down the firm column of his neck to disappear into the opening of his shirt.  How you managed not to launch yourself across the grass and lick the errant rivulet up, you weren’t sure.

When it became time for the cake, you brought out the split MineCraft/Star Wars confection that your friend Jackie had made and placed it on the table in front of the excited children. It was then that you realised that you’d left your box of matches inside, but before you could turn around to get them, a lighter appeared in front of your eyes.

You met Bucky’s grin, and smiled back without thinking, before ducking your head down and away, returning your attention to the task at hand. Or at least trying to.

When the party wound down, you were glad that some of your close friends and family stayed back to help tidy up. Isaac and Cassie ran up to their rooms with some of the other remaining kids, intent on playing with their new toys and you tried not to think of the mess in their rooms you’d have to tidy up tomorrow. At your request Lee started to deflate the castle. He wasn’t a bad man overall, but you’d just not been right for each other.

Gabi was taking down the decorations and chatting to your dad, while he cleared up the grill paraphernalia, as you started to carry the empty and part-empty food platters inside. Taking a moment for yourself, you rested your hands on the counter top, letting it take your weight. Your eyes closed, and you let your head drop, taking in a few deep breaths.

“How are you doing? Need any help in here?”

You jumped and turned around at the sound of Bucky’s voice. Somehow he’d almost completely snuck up on you and now was breathtakingly close. “I…um… just having a breather. It’s been a pretty full-on day.”

He took a step forward, and you had to tilt your head up to continue looking at his face. His very handsome face. “Bet you have a lot of those, sweetheart. When did you last do anything for yourself? I really can’t believe that Lee cheated on you. If you were my wife I don’t think I could have kept my hands off you. He’s my friend, but he’s an idiot.”

You snorted and then covered your mouth with your hand. “I plead the fifth. And do you go around flirting with all your friend’s ex-wives?”

His eyes roamed over you, unashamed and blatant. “Only those that could be categorised as ‘MILFs’ and I’ve only met one of those…”

“Smooth, Mr Barnes.”

His tongue slipped out from between his lips and ran over the lower one, and you couldn’t draw your eyes away. “Is it working?”

“Is what working?” You shifted an inch closer, your hand resting on the blue suit jacket he was wearing, feeling the smoothness of the fabric.

“Me trying to get into your good graces?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“You could call it something else, if you want.” His head lowered, his intentions telegraphed, giving you time to move your own away. 

“I do want…”  Your voice was low and soft as you instead raised your head to meet his lips.

There was no finesse. There was just unashamed want, like a starving man facing his last meal. You fisted the lapels of his jacket as your mouth opened under his. You drank in his kiss and returned it with fervour. You were drunk on him, drunk on lust and could feel heat pooling in your abdomen, a feeling so strange to you, due to its previous rarity.

Part of your brain kicked in enough to realise that should anyone come up towards the house from the garden, or the kids come downstairs, you would be caught in a rather compromising situation. But you didn’t want to stop. 

Instead, you stepped away from the counter, using your body weight to gently steer Bucky backward toward your pantry. 

You released his lips and jacket long enough to open the door to the small walk in cupboard before stepping in and dragging Bucky after you. His lips fell back to your neck and you could feel his smile as he pulled the door shut behind himself. Your fingers tangled into his hair as he kissed your throat, the hair of his beard tickling you. Lee had never had facial hair, so it had been a very long time since you’d experienced the feeling.

All thoughts of Lee were pushed from your mind as your back was pressed up against the shelves, the cans and jars stored on them juddering slightly. Bucky’s hands roamed your body over your sensible dress. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples you gasped and arched your back. You heard Bucky chuckle, and then groan as your hips pressed up against his, his erection obvious through his pants.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, under his jacket and started to pull his shirt out of his pants. You needed to feel him, get your hands on his flesh. There were no words between you, just gasps and moans of pleasure as you pushed the soft cotton up to curl your fingers into his back as he unbuttoned the top half of your dress. 

Your hands returned to Bucky’s hair again as he ducked his head to suckle each breast in turn through the lace of your bra, the stiff fabric creating an almost painful friction against your peaked nipples as it was soaked by his tongue.

His hands, in contrast, were pulling up the hem of your dress, stroking over your bare thighs to cup at your sodden core. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so aroused. You were aware that you moaned his name as he’d touched you, because he sucked at your breast even harder. His deft fingers stroked you over panties until you were pleading breathily in his ear. When he finally pulled the damp cotton to the side and slid a finger inside you, you swear you had a small orgasm, from the way your body trembled and the breath was pulled from your lungs.

Bucky pumped his digit into you a few times before returning his lips to yours. You wondered why, but then he pressed a second finger into you and you cried out into his mouth and he swallowed the noise. You tugged the hair at the nape of his neck and he growled before pumping his wrist harder and curling his fingers inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you can give it to me. I just know you're gonna cum so beautifully. You fucking deserve it. That’s it, baby, that’s it.”

He muttered against your lips and cheek as you kissed and nipped his beard, but when he felt your legs tremble, and heard your breath hitch, he kissed you deeply again as you came. Later, you were glad that he had. 

You heard the noises you made in your own ears, squeaks and mewls, as your body surrendered to a little known pleasure. Your head spun as you drew in breath through your nose and your grip on his hair tightened even further. Bucky’s fingers continued to stroke you, albeit more softly as he guided you through the aftershocks, and you felt the world come back to you, although your legs felt like jelly and your mind felt all floaty and light.

Slowly, Bucky withdrew his fingers from the clutch of your body, leaving your aching and empty. You whimpered, but Bucky shushed you gently, rubbing his nose against yours. 

He then leant back and, in the crack of light coming from under the door, you saw him raise his fingers to his mouth and slowly suck on them in turn. When he moaned you felt your pussy clench, imagining that he was making that noise tasting your essence from the source. And, despite the fact that you’d just had the most mind-numbing orgasm you could remember, you wanted more from him. 

You wanted everything.

You practically yanked his fingers from his mouth, bringing them to your own and licking up them, before smashing your lips to his in another feral, needy kiss. Bucky pressed you harder against the shelves, but you ignored the discomfort as the wood dug into your spine; you were more intent on reaching your goal. Your hands went to the fly of his pants as Bucky pulled your dress right up with one hand and massaged one of your breasts with the other.

Your right hand slid into his briefs, a smug sensation filling you when you felt the wetness of his precum on the waistband. The feeling was short lived though, overtaken by a combination of shock and some trepidation when you felt how big he was. Your fingers didn’t meet around his girth, but it didn’t deter you. You stroked up his length, wanting to give him back at least a portion of the pleasure he had given to you.

You touched and devoured each other, but eventually you both became impatient. Bucky lifted your right leg and hitched it over his hip, taking his cock from your hand and pressing towards you. You shuddered with pleasure when he slid his tip through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. 

Winding your arms around his neck you braced yourself as he slid home, rocking into you with more care than you’d anticipated. Your eyes rolled back and your eyelids fluttered as you gave yourself over to feeling. Feeling him stretch you wide. Feeling him fill you like you’d never felt before. A gasp left you as he got as close as he could, and then stilled. You could hear his breath in your ear, breaths that let you know he was collecting himself.

“You feel more amazing than I thought. Fuck. Gripping me so tight, I don’t know how I haven’t cum yet.”

You clenched at his words and he groaned at the sensation.

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart? I fucking need it, and I think you do to. I wanna fuck you until you see stars, until all you can say is my name. I want to swallow your cries again, and again.”

You couldn’t speak, just nodded your head against his neck and bit down on your lower lip as he canted his hips back, dragging his cock through your spasming walls before firmly thrusting back in. You sucked in a deep breath through your nose, trying to hold on to your sanity as Bucky fucked into you again. But your sanity slipped away moment by moment as he upped his pace. 

When his hands came round you and under your ass to lift you up properly, so you could wrap both legs around his waist, your brain was a puddle. 

Now he’d lifted you Bucky had more leverage, thrusting into you harder and faster. Jars clinked against each other, packets of seasoning fell over and a can jumped off the shelf and rolled across the floor. You ignored it. 

In fact, you barely noticed it, nearly all of your focus on the way Bucky was making you feel.

The way your skin tingled all over. The way he kept swapping between kissing you with ferocity and burying his face in your neck. The way his fingers gripped your ass, no doubt leaving bruises. And the way his cock was moving in you just right. Touching all the right spots. The spots you hadn’t thought you had.

There was a gradual tightening within you, an incremental build up, and you knew, just knew, that this impending orgasm would make the one you’d had only minutes ago seem pathetic in comparison. Bucky thrust into you like a man possessed and you swapped one hand to grip the shelf above your head for stability, rocking your hips against his in a wild dance.

Your body froze when you came, every tendon and muscle stretched out tight as electricity danced across all your nerve endings. Your blood was rushing in your ears and stars danced on the backs of your eyelids; you’d never felt anything like this.

“Sweetheart, oh god, I’m so close. Where should I cum?” 

You forced your brain to tune in enough to answer him, despite the delicious aftershocks shooting through your body.

“‘M on the pill…”

You’d barely finished answering before Bucky burrowed his head into your neck to muffle his shouts of ecstasy as he pumped you full of his cum. You clung onto him, coming down from your high as he recovered from his own. All was silent for a few minutes, other than the sounds of your combined breathing. Slowly he lowered your legs to the floor, and you moaned as he slipped from you and you felt his cum trickle down your thigh. You reached behind you, pulling a few sheets from the paper towel roll and used it to clean yourself up a bit, before neatening your dishevelled appearance. You weren’t sure what to say to Bucky, now that reality was creeping back in, but he picked up on your reticence.

“Hey.” He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to face him. The low light threw shadows over his face, but you could still make out his questioning expression. “Are you okay? Please don’t say you regret that, because I don’t. Not one bit.” 

“No. It’s just… um… well I don’t really do this. Like ever.”

“Do you mean two orgasms back to back, or having sex with a virtual stranger in your pantry?” 

You giggled at the absurdity of it all. “Both!”

Bucky shifted closer again, pulling you against him. “Well next time, maybe we can try a bed and I can try for three. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect. But first we gotta sneak outta here first without the kids, or Lee, noticing.”

“That’s second. First, I gotta kiss you again.”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @poppunksnowwhite

[katareyoudrilling]

Construction Corner (AU Joel Miller x Female Reader)

Episode 1: The Gutierrez Family

Fandom: The Last of Us/Pedro Pascal

Pairing: TV Host Joel Miller x divorced Female Reader

Summary: AU where nothing bad happened in 2003. It is now 2007 and Joel is now the host of a popular home renovation show.

Word count: ~1.8k

Rating: Teen, but series will be Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Alternate Universe, inaccuracies about tv show production, filming, and construction

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this!  If I’m going to do an AU, I’m going to go all the way.  I hope you enjoy it!  Reader is divorced and in her late 30s, but is otherwise a blank slate.  Big thank you to @wheresarizona for her help with this idea and for beta reading!

Comments and reblogs very much appreciated!

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Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

The first day of shooting always feels a bit like the first day of school – all nervous energy and possibilities.  You loved school.  You also really love your job as the producer of “Construction Corner with Joel Miller.”

The show started out on the local Austin, TX PBS channel, KLRU, a few years ago, but quickly got picked up by HGTV, which meant bigger projects and more episodes.  Also, more work for you, but that was just fine.

There’s a bounce in your step and a latte in your hand as you walk onto the homeowners’ property for the first episode.  Production always breaks over the hottest summer months, but now it’s October, and while the air is still warm, at least it’s not stifling.

You’ve spent the last few months interviewing potential homeowners, coordinating materials for their projects, and setting the filming schedule.  The prep is finished.  Now it’s time to put it all together.

This week’s episode is shooting in San Antonio.  You opted to commute since the drive isn’t too far from your home in Austin, but it did mean an early morning, thus the latte.

You make your way over to the homeowners who have just finished in the hair and make-up trailer.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gutierrez!  How nice to see you again!” you greet them with a warm smile and a handshake.

“Please, call us Javi and Gabriela,” Mr. Gutierrez, Javi rather, corrects you in his melodic accent, placing his arm around his very pregnant wife.

“Of course, Javi.  Are you ready for today?”  The homeowners are often nervous at the thought of revealing their DIY disasters to stern-faced Joel, so you like to check in.

“We are so excited!” Javi bounces on the balls of his feet, brown eyes sparkling.

“We definitely are,” Gabriela continues, looking fondly at her excitable husband.  “This is happening just in time.  Our baby girl is due next month.”

“How wonderful!  I’m so glad we can help you before the baby arrives.”  You walk with them back towards their house.  “I just wanted to remind you of a few things before filming starts today.  You will be meeting Joel in a few minutes, but will have to pretend you are meeting him for the first time at your front door for the cameras.  You’ll take him inside and show him the project.  I’ll be honest with you… he is going to sigh a lot.  Don’t take it personally.  It may feel like he’s disappointed in you, but he’s not.  He wants to help.”

Javi and Gabriella nod seriously as they take in the information.  It’s a vulnerable thing showing an expert like Joel the mess you’ve made of your house.  But anyone who had watched the show knew that Joel was actually a big softy and was genuinely happy to teach homeowners the right way to do things, and proud of them when they learned.

As if on cue, Joel emerges from his trailer.  He is wearing a dark green t-shirt that pulls tight across his broad chest and shoulders, the sleeves hugging his muscular arms.  His worn leather toolbelt is slung low across his hips over dark-wash jeans.  Sturdy leather boots complete the look.

With each passing year, his wavy hair features more gray at the temples and in his scruffy beard.  He was concerned about the grays when they started coming in and even considered dying his hair, but you and the show’s director had convinced him that they only added to his gruff charm.  Salt and pepper suits him perfectly.

He makes his way over to you and the Gutierrezes in long, sure strides.

“Good morning, Joel.  I’d like you to meet Javi and Gabriela.”  You introduce the couple.

“Good mornin’,” Joel greets them with a kind smile, “I’m lookin’ forward to workin’ with you the next few days.”  He shakes their hands firmly and you watch as they beam at him.  It’s clear that Javi in particular is already under his spell.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted.”  You back away from the group and make your way to the construction crew to confirm that they have all the supplies they need.

Filming begins shortly with Javi and Gabriela meeting Joel at the front door just as you had explained to them.  You watch on a monitor as they show Joel their DIY disaster.  He drags his hand down his face and sighs as he takes in the sight in front of him.

Javi had attempted to resurface his fireplace and build shelves on either side.  The faux stone he tried to affix to the fireplace was now falling off in places, leaving behind splodges of adhesive.  The shelves on either side of the fireplace droop and sag and behind them, wires stick through ragged holes in the wall.

Poor Javi grimaces as Joel takes it all in.

“We have our work cut out for us, but we’re gonna get it done.” Joel pronounces as he places a firm hand on Javi’s shoulder.  Javi positively swoons.

For the next few hours, the crew, Joel, and Javi, demo the area.  The camera operators are sure to get close up shots of Joel’s arms as he pulls down the sagging shelves and his backside as he bends down to pull off the faux stone.  It’s not their first rodeo.  Joel shakes his head good-naturedly when they ask him to bend down once more to get the perfect shot.  If it gets people interested in learning proper building techniques, then he is willing to provide a little eye-candy even if he doesn’t really believe he’s that exciting to look at.

By late afternoon, the room is clear and Joel sits down with Javi and Gabriela to show them his design plan.

“What we’re gonna do is build a new fireplace surround to go over y’all’s existin’ one.  We’ll tile the hearth and around the fireplace openin’ with these tiles here.” He shows them the samples.  “On either side, we’ll build shelves.  We’re gonna put cabinet doors on the bottom where we’ll put your electronics.  What you won’t see are the hidden channels for all your cables to run from your TV over the fireplace down into the cabinet, where we will have it wired for power and cable.  The doors will keep all your electronics out of sight and safe from your little one.”

Javi and Gabriela nod enthusiastically and smile.  Gabriela pats her round belly fondly.

Once the crew is satisfied that they got all their shots, production breaks for the day.  You do a final round of check-ins with all the departments and head to your car as the sun begins to set.  You buckle your seatbelt with a contented sigh and make your way home.

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

The midday sun beats down on you as you look around for a spot of shade to eat your lunch.  It’s the fourth day of filming and after lunch will be the finished project reveal.

Everything has gone smoothly and you’re sure it’s going to make a great episode.  Every time Joel pats Javi on the shoulder and tells him that he did a good job, Javi beams at him with glistening eyes.

You see Joel sitting under a tree, squinting at his phone, and make your way over to him.  “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” he answers, still looking at his phone.

“Everything ok?”

He sighs.  “Sarah texted me.  She says it’s faster.  It’s not.”

You chuckle as he slowly presses the numbers on his keypad.

“How is she liking college?”

Joel finishes sending his message and sets his phone down on the grass beside him.  “She loves it.  I just don’t know why I let her go so far away.”

“Because you’re a good dad.  You’re encouraging her to follow her dreams.”

“Why’d they have to be in Virginia, though?”

You chuckle and pat him on his jean-clad knee.  “I’m sure she misses you too.  Does she call you?”

“Yeah, we talk every couple days, and then the damned texting in between,” he finishes with a grumble.

“You’ll get faster at it.  You could get one of those new iPhones everyone is talking about.”

Joel gives you a withering look and you laugh.

“She’s happy, though? Making new friends?” you ask, hopefully.

“It’s all she talks about.  Her friends, her roommate, her classes.  Can’t keep it all straight.”

“That’s great.  How are you doing?”

Joel takes a bite of his sandwich and tips his head from side to side as he considers.  “I’m ok.  The house sure feels empty, though.”

“I know what you mean.”

He looks at you questioningly.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?  I got divorced.”  You wiggle your bare left-hand fingers at him.  He stares at you for a long moment, then finally blinks and clears his throat.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m great, actually.  It was a long time coming.”  You take a bite of your lunch before continuing.  Joel doesn’t rush you.  “We were so young when we got together, and we grew apart.  It happens.  It’s nobody’s fault.”  You shrug and look over at Joel.  He nods and holds your gaze for a long moment before returning to his lunch.

You eat in companionable silence until the director calls you all back to set.  Joel gets to his feet and offers you a hand up.  His warm, dry palm engulfs yours as he pulls you up.

“Thanks, and thanks for lunch.  It was good catching up.” You smile at him.

“Yeah,” he pulls at the back of his neck and looks away, then back at you.

“Well, I’ll see you around.”  You squeeze his shoulder and walk away.  When you reach the production trailer, you turn back and find him still standing by the tree looking at you.  You smile and wave and he jolts, then turns and walks quickly away.  Strange.

You get yourself set up with a headset and monitor as the film crew takes their places inside with Joel, Javi, and Gabriela.

Watching the reveal is your favorite part.  The homeowners have been kept away while the final touches were completed.  The joy on their faces at seeing their new space warms your heart, but the best part is the pride in their eyes at having helped Joel accomplish it.

Next week will be new homeowners and a new project, but that same sense of pride and accomplishment.  Yeah, you love your job.

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

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A/N: for anyone not familiar, this episode’s cameo was from The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

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[scribbleshanks]

Your art gives me life! I love how scruffy, scary, yet still cute, you draw Death. Puss, Perrito and Kitty are also absolutely adorable in your style. Your Hollow Knight art is amazing as well. I haven't played that game yet, but it looks really cool. Plus, your Death x Kitty art is so heartwarming! Two lonely and similar people finding comfort in each other... You've made me ship them and the OT3 even harder. I'm really looking forward to your future stuff. Have a good day! 🐺🐈‍⬛🐈

a thank you so much!!!! :D I feel myself getting better, though I still struggle drawing death and team friendship because animals and anthro related art are out of my comfort zone. but I'm very flattered that you like how i've drawn them so far ^^ I'm working hard to improve!!

and on the topic of hollow knight, the game and the fandom space here has really helped me grow as an artist, so my hk artworks hold a very special place in my heart haha. I recommend playing the game if you ever get the chance (no obligation though ^^)

i'm also pleased to know that my softdeath propaganda is spreading

local thief with trust issues gets attached to eldritch smiledog. supportive husband gets involved, more at 10

thank you for your kind message!! hope you also have a good day! :)