#saddle roofs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 months

Text

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her.

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within.

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont.

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins.

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?”

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part.

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

611 notes · View notes

justporo · 4 months

Text

Shooting Stars

A night of star showers is imminent in Baldur's Gate. You couldn't think of a better way to spend it but with Astarion and a sparkling glass of champagne in your hand - and lots of teasing banter- until the first star comes shooting. Because of course: there are wishes to be made and hopefully to be fulfilled.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Time to cook of the 2024 season! I originally wanted to use this for the Winter Challenge as well but eh, I rather wanted to take my time (and I'm happy about it - I'm only getting back in the saddle with writing now, break was very much needed). So have this piece of fluff, that is hopefully something for the soul to kick of this year of writing! This wonderful artwork was done by the lovely @britonell (thank you so much!).

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: none, just tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2,9k

Song: All This And Heaven Too - Florence + The Machine

~~~

“Shit, I think I ripped one of my stockings”, you cursed while you rearranged your seat at the edge of the roof. Astarion relaxedly sitting beside you clicked his tongue and looked judgingly at you - but you knew he was only teasing. The sparkle in his ruby eyes spoke of nothing but affection and admiration as he looked at you and then towards the glittering night sky.

Tonight a shower of shooting stars was supposed to happen. The whole city had been raving about it for days since astronomers had shared the news of the upcoming celestial event. Probably every one who could afford so would be out and about to catch a glimpse of some of nature's magic. And of course - as was custom - to make some wishes and hope for the falling stars to kindly fulfil them.

Some of the stars on the firmament were twinkling already, as if they were shimmying, getting ready to fall out of their sockets and travel across the night sky. To grace all beings below them with their fleeting beauty.

Never had you seen something like this and you had been brimming with excitement from the first moment you had heard about it. You wouldn't want to miss it for the world.

When you had asked Astarion if he wanted to watch the star showers with you he had lifted one eyebrow and given you a kind of condescending if playful smile. Then, when he had answered his voice had dripped with sarcasm: “Oh darling, why would we need to watch some beautiful fallen stars when I already have one right in front of me.”

You had almost barfed onto his feet. Astarion had looked offended.

Then you had lost it so hard laughing that your vampire had needed to hold you up by your elbows so as to not let you slide onto the ground while you suffered from your hysteric fit.

“Astarion, love, you already have me - you can scrap the cheesy lines - please?”, you had pressed out through laughter and buried your face in his chest while Astarion had pouted a bit more about your snide remarks regarding his flirting techniques.

Of course, he hadn’t stopped. In fact, he’d made it a game over the next couple of days to come up with even much worse lines while you always desperately tried to keep it together.

“But darling, all my wishes have come true already with you by my side.”

“Love, I believe the night's cancelled. All stars are already in your eyes.”

“Oh, my heart, I’ve already fallen hard for you, why would you need another star?”

They got progressively worse the longer he kept going - and incredibly less inventive.

But of course you were still swooning on the inside, at least a little. Because after all, how couldn't you? Knowing that Astarion was indeed in love with you and that he really meant his words. Well, once you scraped all the gooey honey off it. What lay beneath was very sweet and much less sickening.

This game of his had gone on for several days until the night had finally arrived - and until even Astarion had almost run out of stupid pick-up lines.

The both of you had decided to dress up, just for the hell of it. This being one of the things you had adopted quickly from Astarion: indulging yourself, taking care of yourself and dressing for yourself - and for him of course, because you could never get enough of the stunned looks he threw you.

You were in a dress that Astarion had gifted you some time back and that was embroidered by the man himself. And the vampire in a finely stitched doublet that made him look positively regal and smoking. There was a fair amount of staring happening from both sides, hopefully not distracting from the actual event later on.

Then with lots of giggles from your side and terrible cursing from Astarion you had climbed onto the roof of your little Baldurian townhouse. This man could never do anything without commenting on it. When you had pointed out as much, he had narrowed his eyes at you and looked tempted to drag you down the small ladder again that led up to the roof. But you had swiftly moved out of his reach with a cackle - not without also making sure to give him a good view of your behind first by deliberately swishing open the slit in your skirt.

Carefully, you had scattered towards the edge over the old shingles then, until you could carefully settle down.

Obviously not carefully enough though since you feared that the delicate sheer fabric covering your slender legs might have been torn on a sharp edge when you had sat down. But it didn’t really matter. Astarion had already promised he’d rip these stockings off you (together with the set of naughty underwear you’d chosen specifically for him) with his teeth later in the night. Really, you were just presenting an opening for your eager lover.

With another curse under his breath, the vampire sat down beside you although he did so elegantly and immediately evoked the image of a lounging cat. The grace of the rogue really was unmatched.

You leaned back on your hands and angled one leg, putting it up on the edge while the other dangled over thin air. Astarion almost mirrored you with the way he seemed to sit comfortably there, leaning back, legs slightly spread and hanging over the edge while he observed the glittering night sky.

“Love, that’s no way to sit for a lady”, Astarion teased you with a promising grin while he eyed your angled leg, clad in nothing but a gauzy stocking, adorned with a delicate lace rim at the very top of your thigh - which was almost completely on display for him.

You angled your head at him and swayed your leg a little so the slit allowed for an even better view of your leg - careful to only tease for later.

“Good thing I am not a lady then”, you replied to your vampire, tongue in cheek.

“Oh yes, my love, it’s for the best. The way I’d single handedly ruin your reputation later tonight would be scandalous,” Astarion replied while he devoured you with his eyes from under his brows. In his head you could bet he was already letting his teeth graze over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. Oh, it would be a night to behold.

You laughed softly, throwing your head back. But then you let your leg softly fall onto the other, giving at least the illusion of decency again.

You grinned at the vampire, the vampire grinned back with promise.

Nothing would ever come close to this, to being with him: the playful banter, the easy companionship, the intense intimacy. You hummed contentedly while you slowly ripped your loving gaze of Astarion and let it wander over your surroundings.

Below you the streets of the Upper City seemed to fill up with the whole population of Baldur’s Gate. Of course everyone wanted the best sight of the night sky - and Upper just had the best spots. And what a good thing that you still had the vantage point even with all those people trying to find a neat stargazing spot.

Idle chatter drifted up towards you. People had brought food and drinks and a continuous hum of anticipation filled the cold night air, but you barely even noticed. For you there was merely your soulmate and you up on the roof of your home.

Behind you you had two crystal glasses waiting to be filled with some bubbling champagne Astarion had insisted upon. “If you’re going to make me sit up on some godsforsaken rooftop during wintertime only to crane your neck at the night sky you can look up at every night, I might as well bring a drink”, he’d said and rolled his eyes while he had grabbed not one, but two of the expensive bottles. You had simply shrugged - you wouldn’t say no if drinks were involved. And since you had figured out that it had been nearly half a year already since most everything had been dealt with, you felt it was only appropriate to celebrate this fact with a drink.

The vampire had whole-heartedly agreed when you had told him your observation. Astarion, of course, had been very well aware of that even before. He hadn’t stopped counting the days since his life had taken a turn for the better and, perhaps, he never would.

Up on the roof the rogue now procured his dagger, threw it up to flip it artfully and only then - when he was sure that he had your full attention - he took the first bottle with a sly grin. And then, in his histrionic manner, he swished the sharp blade up along the curve of the bottle neck and cleanly took off the head along with the cork.

Champagne immediately started foaming out of the bottle and Astarion was quick to grab the crystal glasses, both in one hand, and elegantly pour you each a glass of sparkling wine.

Somewhere below you heard someone yelp - apparently Astarion had unconsciously managed to hit someone with his display of skill. You looked down and saw an older gentleman rub the back of his head and turn towards you.

Quickly grabbing Astarion’s arm to make him pull back with you, you dragged up your legs with a giggle, hoping you could hide from the unwilling target. The vampire grinned broadly at you while he kept pouring - that little rascal.

You had to be honest though that you’d been quite impressed with the display of this dextrous if wholly unnecessary talent. It was after all very fitting for the flamboyant elf. But your adoration must have shown because the vampire was grinning proudly at you as he handed you a glass.

Time to get his ego in check again before it became too massive.

“Where’d you learn that?”, you asked after you had clinked glasses with him. “Rich prick academy?”

Astarion almost snorted into the glass he’d been taking a sip from. He recovered quickly though. “Not my fault they taught you neither that nor manners, you insolent little thing.” He clicked his tongue and took another sip of bubbly.

You waited until he had lifted up the drink filled flute to slap his arm.

His drink sloshed, some spilling onto him.

The look of that combined with too much force you had used to get back at him almost made you lose your balance. You screeched, gripping your glass as if it could stop you from falling.

But thankfully Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist with roguish reflexes, pulling you back and thus prohibiting you from falling off.

Your heart was racing from the sudden rush of adrenaline. The vampire was only laughing as you recovered from your self-inflicted fright. And you hadn’t even drunk a single drop of alcohol yet. So you made to catch up and lifted the crystal to your lips.

“Darling, don’t break your back falling off this rooftop, yes?” Astarion said, choosing this exact moment to break the silence again. “I have way better options to achieve that if you should insist upon it, my heart.”

You choked on the prickling drink and started coughing. Immediately, you were almost ready to push that bastard again, risking falling off once more. Astarion in the meantime smirked smugly at you while drinking his champagne in peace now.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time”, you croaked pathetically after barely being able to talk again. Somehow you seemed to draw the short end of the stick fairly often when it came to trying to out-sass the pale elf. But he had more than 200 years on you with that - give or take. You’d get back at him one of those days.

The bickering went on for some more back and forth until you had each downed your first glass, then a second while you were both laughing profusely and you started to feel the alcohol make your mind a little hazy.

Astarion refilled the glasses once more and you just kept talking - about everything and nothing. It was always so easy to just spend time with each other. It almost felt like you had been together a whole eternity already, in the best way imaginable.

“So, what are you wishing for?”, you asked Astarion emboldened by the alcohol while you were working on emptying your next glass of champagne.

The vampire inclined his head towards you and softly shook his head in disappointment: “Love, have they truly taught you nothing? You’re not supposed to tell or it won’t come true!” He softly clicked his tongue while you stuck out yours towards him. You kept looking at him in anticipation - but he was firm on not losing a word on the matter.

After a while you gave up with a dramatic sigh and gulped down the rest of liquid in your glass. Neither pouting at him, bribing him or even offering another glance of your precariously clothed legs seemed to work.

You though knew exactly what things you’d be wishing for: for him and you to be happy - that was the most important thing, to find a way to allow Astarion to walk in the sun again, a long and happy life for all your friends you hadn’t seen in a while now, to have things stay like this forever or at least to be able to always come back to moments like these.

You really deeply hoped this would stay with you: the unconditional love, the deep trust, the easiness with which the two of you spent your days and nights now with each other.

Some time ago you had feared that once the permanent tension of your adventuring days was over there wouldn’t be much left for you. That Astarion would just realise that you were barely more than a former street kid and thief - and pretty much boring beyond that.

But it hadn’t been like that. Quite the opposite: every day seemed to make the vampire fall harder for you. And you knew that was surely true from your side. It was like every time you looked at him another small piece of your heart was permanently handed to the vampire who you trusted fully to handle it gently. And perhaps the same was true for Astarion’s undead and unbeating heart in his chest.

You kept gazing at him and enjoyed just listening to him talk beside you while you sipped on your drink. The wind was drifting through both your hair, pulling some light strands of your hair with it while it merely tugged softly on the rogue’s curls. His side profile was sharply illuminated by silver moon light, pronouncing his straight nose, sharp cheekbones. And not to forget his ruby red eyes that always caught when you were staring at him and then sparkled in delight.

You could just spend eternity with moments like these.

Astarion was currently telling you about a book of poetry he was reading at the moment, looking up at the moon and the stars with a slight smile on his lips when a murmur started to move through the crowd below you.

Both of your ears perked up a little as the people became louder. And then when someone even screeched and you saw someone pointing up at the night sky as you leaned forward you realised what it must mean: shooting stars.

Your head snapped up and you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye, just the disappearing tail of a star racing across the darkness. With a gasp you grabbed Astarion’s shoulder without looking to get his attention. The vampire immediately complained but was silenced when another falling star shot across the sky - this time clearly visible for both of you.

The people below were buzzing in excitement now, loud “oohs” and “aaahs” were heard in the chill winter night as the stars become more and more frequent until bright white curves of sparkles were drawn across the sky every few seconds.

Your eyes widened as you beheld the wondrous event in front of you, completely entranced by what was happening. Truly a magic that was unmatched in beauty, a spell woven over everyone that was lucky enough to catch sight of it even for only a moment.

The vampire observed the falling stars with you for a long while before he slowly turned to you.

Astarion looked at you, still fully smitten by stars falling from the sky, eyes wide and shining, lips parted slightly.. He drank it all in: the wonder in your eyes, your beautiful face, the love. You see the latter reflected on his face when your gaze flicked to the vampire and back up to the sky to not miss a single star.

But Astarion’s gaze kept lingering upon you. Not wanting to ever forget even the most miniscule of details of this moment while sparks of light kept dancing over your face and your ever broadening smile.

He hadn’t lied, calling you his star.

Because his biggest wish, although always unspoken, had already been fulfilled.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

472 notes · View notes

cultofdixon · 7 months

Text

Falling for you…wasn’t meant to hurt

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The two of you grew close because the universe thought you were meant to be. But Daryl agreeing to let you help him find Carol’s daughter, he didn’t expect anything bad to happen • ANGST/SFW • TW: Impalement / Injuries / Anxiety / Restlessness

Requested by: Anon

“If you’re gonna go search for the kid, don’t go alone.”

“Fine” Daryl made his way toward the camp outside the farm house as Rick gave him a confused look.

“Who are yea takin’?”

“Y/N” He states without a second thought in mind as Rick quickly grabs his shoulder stopping him.

“You sure that’s your best option?”

“I trust her more than you, Rick. She’s more than the best choice” Daryl retracts from the man continuing his way over to the tent city they have going on as Y/N’s was on the side closest to Daryl’s.

________

“Who’s that?” Merle elbows his brother to look at the woman seated on top of the RV.

Daryl looked over trying to get a good look at her face but when he couldn’t. He gave up and told Merle not to go there knowing damn well his brother was going to holler at her.

Then later in the night, Daryl went over to the camp fire they always have going when dinner was made from whatever he and Merle caught. He went to get him and his brother some dinner only for the woman from the roof of the RV to hand him two prepared plates before he could ask somebody to.

“It’s Y/N by the way”

“What?”

“My name. I’m the “who’s that” from the other day” Y/N gave him a small short lived smile before looking down at the book laid in her lap.

Daryl stood there a bit awkward while holding the plates as he cleared his throat to get her beautiful E/C eyes to look up at him.

“Daryl”

Her smile shot back instantly making his heart beat quicken.

“Don’t be a stranger, Daryl”

________

“Do you trust Rick?” Y/N asks Daryl as he was getting one of the Greene’s horses strapped with a saddle.

“Don’t know yet, more than Shane if it came to that though”

“Ugh. In those terms I agree…I just. Don’t understand how he’s so blind to their nonsense” Y/N frowns looking over to the camp while Daryl did his thing but his attention seemed to always fixate on her when she didn’t seem alright.

“Ready. Least I think I got this shit on right”

“You ride a horse before?”

“Uh. No, shouldn’t be too hard”

“If we had the resources like the old world, I’d tell yea to wear boots. So your feet wouldn’t slip from the stirup” Y/N stared watching Daryl get on with ease extending his hand for her as he kept his cool when her smile practically shot him. “Don’t do anything too crazy, cowboy”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Daryl chuckles lightly as his mind was running miles at everything she did, even if it was the smallest thing of wrapping her arms around his waist. “Alright, let’s get”

God I really hate horses Y/N thought as she held onto Daryl for dear life wishing they went on foot.

I can’t focus On the other hand, Daryl’s mind raced having her this close.

But a good thing can’t last forever in the end of the world.

________

Daryl cared, but he also didn’t. In the moment he didn’t care about anybody else except her when he returned from Atlanta to find out a herd was crashing through.

Not that she needed any help given every walker that came toward her, met the short end of the stick.

Once the horror show came to an end and many were mourning, Y/N dropped her axe before falling to her knees and trying to wrap her head over all the happened. Her mind was flooded until she felt hands carefully take a hold of her face. Her eyes instantly locked onto his piercing blues.

“Are yea bit?” Daryl frowns waiting for her to answer as she shook her head, bringing a whole wave of relief. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s get yea cleaned up”

________

They can handle anything

Daryl jolts awake in a bit of a haze feeling the pain in his side realizing he was impaled by his own arrow. But given the racing situation at hand, it didn’t remain in his side as he quickly pulled it out while scrambling to get his crossbow in order to shoot the walker getting dangerously to Y/N’s unconscious form.

The second he landed the shot, Daryl dropped his crossbow rushing the best he could over to Y/N and rolling her onto her back noticing the branch embedded in her side.

“Fuck” Daryl frowns removing his shirt wincing when he agitated his injury and wrapping it around her middle to secure the branch. “Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP” he didn’t meant to shout so loud at the last part but it got her to jolt awake wincing in pain immediately. “Sorry. I’m sorry”

“W-…What a way….t-to wake a dying p-p…person” Y/N scoffs wincing more feeling the branch move when she took a breath.

“Y-Yea ain’t dyin’”

“H-Hurts…though” Y/N finally got a deep breath in, exhaling slowly feeling his fingers press against the pulse point on her neck. “Mm still here…”

“Yea better be by the time we get back”

Y/N couldn’t even wrap her head around that thought. Of making it back alive. She thought she was going to die there or on the way back, but given how hard Daryl was trying and the anxiety laced in his voice. Even with how much he’s talking…she’s not going to feed into the seeds of doubt and let him try, hell…she’s still trying.

“Can’t move yea too much…gonna have to go the long way”

“H…How’d we even…?”

“Stupid goddamn h-horse” Daryl winced to his pain when he tried to get up so he could help her up. Y/N carefully pressed her hand to his injured side getting another wince out of him and when she removed her hand she saw the blood.

“You can’t die for me” The first clear thing she’s said since the fall and Daryl didn’t know what to say. The anger that always laid dormant in him at times, started to peak out when his mind raced to the conclusion that he’s not going to listen to her if she starts talking about leaving her behind.

“F-Find something”

“What?”

“F-…Find ah…” Y/N laid back again in the dirt looking around locking onto the walker he had killed to keep her from getting bitten. “S-Stop the bleeding. T…Ta…Take his s-shirt”

He would listen to her direction but find himself yelling at every moment she closed her eyes. They were both weak, but he’s the only one capable of getting them out of there.

Daryl took the shirt and secured it to stop the bleeding on his side. Then he decided to take the dead’s pants thinking if he could climb up from where they fell while Y/N was wrapped to his back, then they could follow the same tracks that got them there instead of trying a whole new route. But that meant having to cut the branch shorter and warning her was the easy part.

Feeling her nails dig into his arm as he used his knife to shorten the branch on either side…listening to her scream in agony and the blood continued to seep through his shirt that was supposedly secured around her. He was in hell.

Y/N tiredly watches the creek disappear as Daryl carries her on his back taking his sweet ass time climbing.

“Gonna get Hershel, to check on yea.”

“You…”

“Me? Me what? Me too? Yeah no shit. None of’em out there are gonna let me walk around bleedin’”

“…s-someone needs to care”

Daryl was reaching the last stretch in climbing when she said that. He was confused on what she meant but when he finally got onto the main path pulling the rest of her up and beside him. Y/N had gone unconscious again. She wasn’t finished and he wasn’t happy seeing her eyes closed.

“Come on” Daryl shakes her at first, trying to keep the yelling at a minimum because the only thing it’s going to do is draw more sickos toward them. But he wasn’t getting anything immediately. “Y/N?” His fear started to get him as he gently brushes the hair out of the way of her face shaking her head carefully. “Please. Please. I can’t lose you. I can’t.” His voice cracked, his tears were threatening to spill over.

It took a second but she tiredly opened her eyes reaching forward and grabbing a fist full of his tank top.

“Tired…” She sighs feeling his hands rest on her face. “Sorry”

“You’re not allowed to die, alright? I’ll kill yea if you do”

Even in a weak state she couldn’t help but laugh to such.

Soon they were on their feet, Y/N’s arm draped over Daryl’s shoulders as he kept her up the best he could while they made their way back.

“Walkers!” Andrea yells catching everyone who was outside’s attention.

As Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog grabbed their guns and made their way to the walkers given there was only two. But Andrea decided to take the hunting rifle and get ready to take at least one of them out.

“Andrea don’t”

“Shut up Dale”

Y/N groaned touching her side to see the fresh blood coming out as she gave Daryl a worried look while he kept a stern one. He wasn’t stopping. Then her anxiety got the best of her right when the four approached them aiming their gun.

“That’s the second time you aimed that thing at me” Daryl huffed.

“Oh my god Y/N” Glenn frowns noticing her injury then they all were startled by both Y/N shoving Daryl off and her falling back when the shot rang through. “Holy FUCK!”

The group that rushed over surrounded Y/N as Daryl weakly looks up from his fallen position noticing her unmoving form. He couldn’t quite pick out what they were saying as he tried to get himself off the ground. Eventually T-Dog approached him with an extended hand.

“C’mon man. We gotta get you checked out”

“Is she—-“

“She’s still breathing” T-Dog reassures him as he got Dixon back on his feet bringing his arm around his shoulders. “The hell happen?”

“Goddamn horse” he scoffs feeling his anger bubble inside himself when watching Shane carry Y/N sprinting toward the house.

Daryl found himself at the dining room table letting Maggie do his stitches while the room that once had Carl, now had Y/N being worked on by Hershel with help from Patricia. He anxiously waited and winced every now and then when Maggie pulled a bit too tight on her stitches. She’d apologized immediately.

“Yer dad is good right?”

“Yes. For someone who originally only worked on animals” Maggie states applying the bandage as Daryl immediately got up leaving the house and approaching the camp.

“Who the fuck fired?”

Everyone grew tense with the tone he took as it was obvious given her avoidance to eye contact when he brought it up.

“Who. Shot. Their. Gun.”

“Andrea” Glenn blurted as Dale smacked him in the arm. The guy was nervous. He wasn’t about to lie for her.

“I’m sorry Daryl! You two looked awful and from afar—like walkers. I had to protect—-“

“FOUR OF YALL CAME TOWARD US. WE DIDNT NEED SOME TRIGGER HAPPY BITCH TAKE CARE OF IT” Daryl snaps as Rick stepped between them pushing him back gently keeping mind of his own injuries.

“Look. You’re upset. We all are. We’re worried about—-“

“Nah. She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you had just trusted me to take care of business by myself. I shouldn’t have taken the one person I care about in this goddamn apocalypse” Daryl clenched his jaw moving his gaze to the floor. “I’m leavin’ if I lose her” he whispered.

“Daryl”

The two quickly turned to Maggie as she kept a relaxed expression but the tension in her shoulders struck Daryl’s anxiety.

“We need you”

Daryl quickly ran toward the house and barging into the room noticing the branch was still in Y/N’s side.

“Why the fuck haven’t—-“

“I stabilized it but she woke up, screamed at us wondering where you were—-“

He didn’t say anything all he did was instantly to go to her side noticing the color that left her face from the blood loss, and the bullet graze on the side of her face.

“D-Daryl. It h-hurts” She whined with tears streaming down her face as Daryl held her hand trying not to fall apart.

“He’s gotta take it out and access yea, sunshine”

“P-Please. Don’t leave”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Daryl states giving Hershel a look for him to get started as he watches the doc move the bandaging showing the branch that still needed to be pulled out. His heart was pounding in his chest holding Y/N’s hand knowing in a split second he’s going to have to hold her shoulders.

Which happened to be now. Hershel started to pull the branch out and Y/N tried to fight Hershel wanting him to stop but he kept repeating “almost there”. Daryl brought his hands to her shoulders pinning her down as Patricia held her legs down to keep the movement at a minimum. She clawed at Daryl’s arms crying in pain as he knew he would be hearing her screams whenever something went wrong in the future.

Once the branch was removed, the blood poured in new places that weren’t where the clamps were. Leading Hershel to apply pressure immediately while Patricia scrambled to get what they needed. Daryl relaxed but tensed instantly when Y/N’s breathing slowed…slower than normal.

“Goddamn it” Daryl frowns holding Y/N’s face shaking her slightly. “Come on come on come on!” He shouted startling everyone as Hershel took notice and quickly checked her pulse while Patricia kept the pressure.

“Son, you know CPR?!”

“What?! Nah. No she don’t need it. She’s just—-“

“You need to do it or she’ll die”

Then the sound went out in his head. Daryl instantly started to do CPR and tried his best not to instantly break her ribcage with the pressure he was building up to. His shoulder was grabbed when Hershel finished his work and checked her pulse. He did good. Daryl did good.

“She’s gonna be unconscious for a while” Hershel states, about a few hours later as it was now the evening. Daryl hasn’t left her side and he mainly said that in hopes he’d get up to walk around a bit. But he didn’t want to face anybody. “She lost a lot of blood and it’ll take a while—-“

“Use mine”

“Pardon?”

“I’m fucking universal. Take some of mine to help her”

________

“He seriously did that?” Y/N questions Daryl as the two were sitting alone in the room they were sharing at the CDC.

“Got a lot of money out of it”

“But that’s not safe. Taking three pints? How did you not go into shock?”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“Daryl, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever gave me your blood”

“Huh?” Daryl was confused on what she meant and Y/N was getting at, if the situation asked for it. She wouldn’t want him to bleed himself just for her to live. “You ain’t gonna lose a fuckton of blood. Won’t let it happen”

________

Three pints. Fucking moron.

But Hershel only took one a day and gave it to Y/N, letting Daryl take the couch in the living room to recuperate after each transfusion. He had to be a human blood bag, Hershel couldn’t calculate a pint so he had a cut off period. Meaning 3 pints could’ve been less than what was taken.

Daryl didn’t have to give anymore and found himself back in the chair beside the bed staring blankly at the window seeing the group take advantage of the luxury of the Greene farm. Part of him knew it wasn’t going to last. Something in him was leaning toward that, but he wasn’t going to lose her if something bad were to happen.

He flinched to feeling something as he brought himself to cross his arms turning toward her thinking it was just a breeze. But when he noticed her open eyes and extended hand, it was her.

“Holy shit. Holy SH—“ Daryl cut himself off when Y/N brought her finger to her lips to shush him as he leaped out of the chair dropping to his knees directly beside the bed dropping his head onto the bed. She instantly wrapped her arm around his shoulders as her other hand carefully reached over to run her fingers through his hair. “Thank god. Thank fucking god”

“Dar…your arm is bruised”

“Don’t…don’t worry about it, sunshine. I had to do what I had to do”

A sigh escaped her lips making him turn his face toward her as she gently caresses his face watching him relax to her touch.

“I’m always going to worry about you”

“Y/N…you almost died” His voice cracked as her expression saddened gripping the back of his shirt tugging at him. Daryl got the idea as he pulled himself up letting Y/N wrap her arms around him as they both kept in mind their injuries.

“I’m not going anywhere…has to take a lot to take me away from you”

“I love you…I loved yea since I first met you…”

Y/N held onto him with the strength she had feeling Daryl hide his face in the crook of her neck.

“Falling for you, wasn’t meant to be literal” She giggles feeling him pull away so he could get a good look at that smile of hers that he missed so much. “I love you Daryl”

The tears came back when he brought his lips to hers feeling her gently wipe away his tears not breaking the kiss they shared. She returned her arms around his shoulders parting from him to bring him close once again.

“I ain’t letting go, sunshine”

“Good…”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

408 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 11 months

Text

VIII ║ Silver Pony

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 7: Fleabitten | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 9: Warmblood }

Rating: E

Summary: And just like that, your week at the Statesman Ranch comes to an end, leaving you grappling with the prospect of saying goodbye to Jack.

Warnings: Mentions of food and cooking, angst, feelings, grief, flirting, insecurities, very light soft!dom overtones, sexual innuendoes, risky unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), dirty talk, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7.5k

Notes: Here we are, the penultimate chapter of Palomino. I had the last scene in mind since the very beginning of the series, actually putting it into words has been so emotional. Thank you as always for your patience and your love for this series, I'm eternally grateful that you're still with me as we wrap up this beautiful journey cowboy Jack and his Darlin' started almost a year ago ❤️

P.S. Please excuse typos and any mistakes as I had very little time to edit with the husband ill this weekend.

Coaxing Scotch to a halt at the end of the track - the last lookout point before the trail slopes downhill and homeward - you let the leather reins slip long and loose as he stretches his neck and shakes out his mane with a low nicker.

A hundred feet drop below, between the palomino’s ears turned forward in anticipation, is the Statesman Ranch in all its glory, nestled in the fertile valley of green pasture, with its winding creek and red roofs. You can see tiny people milling about, the stables busy in the middle of the afternoon, and horses grazing in the fields bracketed by white picket fences.

Out of the corner of your eye, Whiskey comes to a stop next to you, close enough that your knee bumps into Jack’s.

You keep your gaze on the ranch below as you ask half-jokingly, ‘Is it too late to turn back now?’

He chuckles, and you twist towards him, your own lips curling. ‘I believe we had this exact same conversation the first day, darlin’.’

It’s not too late to back out, you know.

Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me now, cowboy.

You don’t even realise you’ve fallen quiet until his calloused hand slides over yours, fingers tangling together. Jack brushes a sweet kiss to the heart of your palm that goes right to the one in your ribcage.

He cocks his head to one side in a gentle question. ‘Shall we rip off the bandaid, darlin’?’

Knowing there’s no other way around it, you squeeze his hand. ‘Let’s go, cowboy.’

Jameson is the first to spot the five of you passing through the backgates. The sight of him zooming up the slope with his ears pinned back in excitement has you laughing, the horses nickering hello as his barks echo in the valley.

It makes no sense really - you barely know this place after all - but something inexplicably comforting and familiar tugs at your insides as you ride through the ranch. Stable hands call out to Jack in friendly greeting and to you with polite ma’ams, between bales of hay being loaded, saddles and tack polished, and the clang of steel on iron from the farrier’s workstation out back. All the while, Jameson trots faithfully by your side, as if he’s known you all his life.

‘You sure know how to make a girl feel special,’ you coo at him and he barks back, tail wagging.

Jack winks at you and says cryptically, ‘Well, you’re about to feel a lot more special, darlin’.’

Sure enough, when the horses clop into the main stable yard, your jaw drops.

‘Look what the cat dragged in!’ bellows Champ with a huge grin on his face, standing in front of the stable doors with hands on his hips, larger than life than ever.

You chortle at the huge Welcome Back! banner stretched over the barn door, complete with over-the-top cowboy themed helium balloons, bumping into each other in the afternoon breeze. You catch Jack rolling his eyes fondly at the scene.

Champ gives Scotch an affectionate ruffle on the mane as he comes to a halt by the wooden post. ‘So - how was it, m’dear? Was it everythin’ I promised it would be?’

‘Everything and more,’ you answer in the affirmative as you dismount, letting him pull you in for an enthusiastic hug.

‘That’s what I like to hear!’ he beams and pats the palomino soundly on the rump. ‘And Scotch? Was he a good boy?’

‘The bestest boy,’ you gush, throwing your hands around the horse’s neck in a hug. ‘He deserves all the carrots and apples in the world.’

Swinging his leg over the back of Whiskey’s saddle and landing gracefully on booted feet on the opposite side of the post, Jack quips, ‘But you’ve already fed him all the carrots and apples in the world.’

Champ chortles. ‘And what about our cowboy? Was he on his best behaviour?’

Jack points a self-righteous finger at his boss. ‘I’ll have you know our guest rated the pack trip a perfect ten out of ten, so I’ll be expectin’ an immediate raise. Ain’t that right, darlin’?’

A loud scoff coming from the stables turns your head, and you smile when Tequila emerges, wasting no time taking his aim at Jack. ‘Hold your horses, Daniels. Pretty sure the food poisonin’ knocks a few points off!’

Crossing the yard with his usual swagger, he sidles up to the other side of Scotch and tips his hat at you, leaning his elbows on the saddle. ‘Welcome back, sweetheart. Good to see you up and runnin’.’

You bite your lip at the mischievous wink he tosses your way.

Champs harrumps indignantly. ‘You have some nerve askin’ for a raise, son! Poppy was madder than a wet hen she heard about that. As you well know, she expects a full report at dinner tonight.’

Jack huffs in jest. ‘I’m puttin’ in a call to my attorney as we speak.’

The banter is spirited and relentless as the cowboys make quick work of untacking and unloading the horses, Champ insisting you shouldn’t lift a finger and talking for more than the three of you.

When the stable hands take away the last of the bags with your dirty laundry to be laundered, Jack takes a hold of both Whiskey and Bourbon. Clearing his throat, he seems to hesitate for a second, a tick in his jaw, but he eventually nods at you and says, ‘Well. I best be bringin’ the boys in now. Catch you later, darlin’.’

The bottom of your stomach gives out at the catch you later, darlin’, knocking the breath clean out of you, unprepared for the dread that courses through your veins like lead at the sudden prospect of being apart. Your fingers twitch with urgency, wanting to reach out, grab him by the front of his shirt, and cling to him -

Get a grip, woman.

You physically shake yourself out of it, and instead, try to bide your time. ‘Or, you know, if can I help with anything at all -’

Jack clearly catches on to your reluctance, but Champ is insistent. ‘Absolutely not! Now, it’s just gettin’ to four o’clock, so there’s plenty of time to go back to your room, clean up and join us for sunset drinks in a couple of hours. How does that sound, ma’am?’

Jack’s mouth stretches into a reassuring smile that you wish were imprinted into the skin of your forehead instead. With a promise in his eyes that it’ll only be a couple of hours, he leads the chestnut and pinto into the stables.

You don’t even try to hide the slump in your shoulders and your wistful, lingering gaze on the cowboy’s retreating back, nearly jumping out of your skin when Tequila gives you an almost brotherly pat on the shoulder over Scotch’s back. ‘I gotcha, girl.’

Speaking up, he calls out, ‘Hey Champ, Ginger was just tellin’ me that you got an urgent message from Harry, so you better give him a call back - you know how he gets when you don’t.’

The older man flinches dramatically at the mention of his accountant, flinging his hands up in frustration. ‘Damn distillery is more trouble than it’s worth! I better go - you remember your way back to your cabin, young lady?’

Before you can get a word out, Tequila cuts in, ‘Jack can show her the way if she doesn’t, I’m sure.’

The sly reference goes straight over Champ’s head as he bustles off, but not without a polite tip of his hat. Once he’s out of sight, you smile at the cowboy. ‘I appreciate that, Teak.’

He winks at you and spins on his heels to take Scotch to the washing bay. ‘Consider it part of our excellent service at the Statesman Ranch, sweetheart!’

You find Jack hatless in Bourbon’s box, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, slick with sweat, when you slip in and shut the door quietly behind you.

‘Whatcha doin’, darlin’?’ he asks with a lopsided smile.

Even though you didn’t run into anyone on your way in, you glance around to make sure you’re alone before grabbing him by the open neck of his shirt and tugging him into you. One palm on his cheek, rough with the stubble starting to peek through since his last shave at the Halfway House, you press your lips to his, blood thrumming with the thrill of sneaking around.

You catch the hitch of his breath with a wet suck on his bottom lip and he groans - too loudly in the mid-afternoon quiet. Cheeky hands wander south and grab you shamelessly by the ass, his tongue questing deep into your mouth, and you can feel him hardening against your stomach, drawing a whimper from you.

Pulling back reluctantly, his nose still on yours, he growls. ‘Such brazen behaviour.’

Your tongue darts out and swipes the underside of your upper lip, drunk on the taste of him, and his dark gaze follows. ‘I think you like it, cowboy.’

‘Too fuckin’ much,’ he admits with a pained moan and a chaste kiss to your temple, nose in your hair, as if to calm himself down. ‘You should go clean up, I need to finish up here and you’re distractin’ me.’

You pout, laying your cards on the table. ‘But I miss you.’

His gaze warms at your admission, and he stoops to kiss you again. ‘I know, but it’s only for a little while, okay? I’ll come ‘round your room to pick you up at six.’

‘Fine,’ you reply begrudgingly. ‘Be quick, ok?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he teases and swats you on the bottom playfully as he herds you towards the door. ‘I won’t be long, promise.’

Taking two steps down the corridor, you look back one last time at Jack, who’s still watching you from the stall, leaning on the top of the door. When he blows you a lingering kiss, the thought strikes you unbidden -

If it’s this hard leaving him for a couple of hours.

Feeling the tell-tale sting in your nose and the prickle of tears at your eyes, you push the thought out of your mind -

You put one foot in front of the other, and walk away.

You didn’t realise how much you missed civilisation until you surprise yourself with the longest sigh under the rain shower. Head bowed under the steady stream, you take your time, lathering yourself until you’re cocooned in olive scented bubbles before rinsing, relishing the firm water pressure soothing the knots and soreness lurking under your skin.

But there’s a deeper ache, one that can’t be reached from the surface.

You have literally not been apart from Jack for the last four days. You’ve been showering together since the Halfway House, for crying out loud. It hasn’t taken you more than the stretch of an arm to catch his hand, or the turn of your cheek to find his lips.

A laugh bubbles in your throat as you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel. The word codependent springs to mind.

Standing in the middle of the room in just your underwear, you sort through the clean clothes that are folded neatly on the bed. Pulling on the prettiest top you brought and the same pair of jeans you wore on your birthday, you dig out your makeup bag and settle in front of the vanity, putting on a Spotify playlist and humming along as you get ready for dinner.

One second you’re blending in your foundation, then the next - liner in your grasp and poised over the corner of your eye - panic rudely sets in.

What if -

What if the chemistry between the two of you was conditional on forced proximity?

What if Jack was only attracted to you because there was literally no other woman for miles and miles?

What if -

You startle at the knock on the door.

It’s deja vu when you pad across the oakwood floors on bare feet, your heart threatening to thunder out of your chest when you twist the knob clockwise.

Jack is leaning on the doorframe, freshly showered himself, damp locks curling into his forehead. The yellow flannel he’s wearing is new to you, but not the way the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, over his sunkissed forearms.

For one moment of madness, you want to sink your teeth into the thick, sinewy -

‘What is it, darlin’?’ he asks, amused by your scrutiny.

You shrug, fingers fidgeting with a touch of shyness. ‘Just thinking about the last time you were on this doorstep.’

‘When you were swept away by my good looks and charm?’ he quips, arching an eyebrow.

You let him have this one, teasing, ‘Something like that, cowboy.’

Straightening up to his full height, he pulls you in by the waist so that you’re almost standing on the worn leather tips of his boots, the span of his palms warm on the small of your back. He doesn’t even bother checking over his shoulder before brushing a tender kiss on your lips, and it takes you right back to that first time in the field of wildflowers at dawn.

And you just know, in your heart of hearts - there is no what if.

In the middle of nowhere, up in the mountains, the sunset hour demands nothing short of worship. Miles and miles of grassland, trees and summer blooms become altars dipped in bronze at which to prostrate oneself as the sun sinks, rejoicing at the rapture of the end of day.

Whilst not as transcendent as what you experienced on the trail, the last sunset over the ranch is giving as good as it gets. The sun gilds the fields in gold on its descent as the stable hands bring in the last of the horses for the night while the swallows fly home above. The river that winds through the ranch is ablaze with the refracting light, and across the yard, you can hear the impatient whinnying of those waiting for their supper.

Jack and Tequila are setting up the barbeque and firepit, the orange glow of the twin flames taking the place of the fading daylight. The familiar scent of burning wood grounds you - you’re feeling a bit out of practice being the centre of attention after being alone with Jack for the past week.

Ice cold lemonade in one hand and buffalo jerky in the other, you smile when Ginger approaches with a hug. ‘I’m sure you’ve had to answer this question about fifty times today, but how was it?’

‘You want the short answer or long answer?’

‘I want a dissertation if you have it in you!’

You sneak glances at Jack over Ginger’s shoulder while you chat, and he watches you back from afar as he bustles in and out of the kitchen, always trailing two steps behind Poppy. You catch snippets of their conversation as they go back and forth, and you pick up enough to know that she is grilling him on the ‘food poisoning’ incident. He shoots you puppy eyes every time he passes by, which makes you grin.

You may or may not have been a bit distracted by the cowboy when Ginger asks, ‘So, did you catch Jack washing in the river in the end?’

A violent cough racks your entire body as you choke mid-swallow, and she chuckles, giving you a comforting pat on the back. ‘It’s ok, girlfriend - I don’t have to know!’

You knock back more lemonade and choose to play coy. If only she knew.

Champ is in his element, swapping out your drink for a whiskey soda as the dusk deepens and making sure the snacks platter is topped up with locally made boar and elk salami. Despite only having half an ear in the conversation while he keeps an eye on the dinner prep, he’s somehow still fully invested, and is particularly interested in the photos and videos you’ve been taking on Jack’s DSLR.

‘And that’s what you do for a livin’, young lady?’ he asks, putting on his reading glasses so he can study the photos downloaded onto your phone.

‘Adjacent. I’m in marketing, I do quite a lot of business-to-consumer social media campaigns,’ you explain, switching to Instagram to show him your employer’s profile.

Champ turns to Ginger. ‘Do we have the social media?’

She exchanges a fond smile with you. ‘No we don’t, boss, but we do have a website. I think it was last updated in 2012.’

Champ holds his chin between his thumb and index finger thoughtfully. ‘What do you think, m’dear? Should we get the social media?’

‘It depends,’ you answer truthfully. ‘If you want to boost occupancy, social media will definitely help connect new guests, and also encourage repeat visits. But if you asked me, I think the real potential is on the distillery side of the business.’

Champ perks up under his cowboy hat. ‘I’m listenin’.’

You tap the bottle of Statesman whiskey that’s sitting on the barrel table. ‘Jack told me that you only handle wholesale orders right now, which is perfectly fine. But if you want to go direct to consumers one day, social media is the way to go. I’ve worked with vineyards and gin distilleries, so I’ve seen how effective these campaigns can be.’

Humming pensively, Champ sips at his whiskey, neat, a faraway look in his eyes as he mulls over your words. ‘Well, that’s somethin’ to think about, I’d say.’

There’s no other way to end the trip than with a western cookout. The barbeque station is packed with trays of beautifully cut and aged meat from neighbouring ranches, sausages and brats, while the smoked brisket and ribs that have been cooking all day are brought out from the smoker in the kitchen.

On the side, a picnic table draped with a chequered table cloth is crammed with baked beans (smoked in-house), corn on the cob, pasta salad and soda bread; and on the greens front, there’s homemade coleslaw, potato salad and greens freshly picked from the vegetable patch.

It’s a feast of epic proportions, and it doesn’t surprise you at all that Poppy is pulling out all the stops.

Jack mans the barbeque under her supervision, wielding the tongs with showmanship, and your heart purrs at the familiar sight of him cooking by firelight as darkness well and truly sets in. You feel slightly adrift not being by his side, but Champ is keeping you entertained and well fed, piling seconds upon thirds on your loaded plate despite your protests.

By the time Teak takes over at the barbeque and Jack makes his way towards the communal table where you’re all standing, you’re sipping slowly on your third whiskey and soda. You smile at him over the brim of your tumbler which he returns, and your body leans unconsciously towards him, before remembering where you are. He tucks his right hand into his back pocket, and you want to think that it’s because if he doesn’t, he would reach out for you.

Being denied his touch when he’s right there has you shifting your feet restlessly. Your fingers itch for him, there’s an insistent prickle under your skin that you know he alone can placate.

You venture a peek at Jack, wondering if he’s faring any better than you are. Feeling your eyes on him, he turns to you, his gaze dropping to your mouth none too subtly, the muscle in his neck tensing. Caught in the moment, all you want to do is to run your tongue down the hollow of his throat and taste the smoke on his skin -

You look away in case you do anything rash.

You’re barely holding it together when the conversation moves on to your birthday at the Halfway House.

‘And how was the dinner?’ asks Poppy animatedly. ‘Did you like the cake?’

Despite yourself, you beam, ‘Like it? I loved it, thank you so much! I was so spoiled.’

‘Did Jack show you a good time?’

‘Oh I should say so,’ cuts in Tequila despite being six feet away at the barbeque. At Jack’s glare, he quickly adds, ‘He decked out the place real nice, y’know, with balloons and shit.’

With a shake of your head, you chuckle, ‘And he dressed the horses up in birthday hats and tinsel!’

With the barbeque dying down to a low, simmering flame, Poppy slides in a couple of peach cobblers in pie dishes directly onto the embers to warm up. Leaving behind gravy-stained plates stacked up high on the barrel table, the group drifts over to the low-set deck chairs sitting in a tidy circle around the firepit.

Emptying the last of the whiskey into his glass, Champ calls out, ‘Jack, m’boy, how ‘bout you run to the cellar and grab us another bottle of the fifteen years?’

‘Sure, boss,’ he replies, hanging back and catching your attention. ‘You wanna come look at the cellar, darlin’? It’s quite a sight.’

Champ is delighted. ‘What an inspired idea! Take your time, young lady, it’s not quite the distillery cellar, but we’ll save that for next time.’

Teak gives you a two-fingered salute and a knowing wink as Jack leads the way. ‘Enjoy the tour, sweetheart!’

Jack barely waits until you’ve turned the corner behind one of the barns before backing you up against the wall. You taste whiskey and woodsmoke on his tongue as he pins you in place with his broad frame, and you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him.

‘I missed you, darlin’,’ he whispers against your lips.

‘I was standing right next to you, cowboy.’

‘I know,’ he whines. ‘Took everythin’ to keep my hands to myself.’

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you reach up to brush an errant curl back from his eyes. ‘Me too.’

Jack grabs your hand and takes you on what must be a shortcut to the kitchen, since you don’t recognise the route. Practically dragging you down a flight of steps at the back, he lets go of you only to pull open a heavy oak door. Your eyes widen when the orange lights flicker on, stepping into the cellar lined with hundreds, if not thousands of bottles, floor-to-ceiling shelves nestled into stone arches carved into the walls.

You wander the perimeter of the room, carefully pulling out dusty bottles high and low to inspect the years printed on the labels, but Jack is having none of it. Face nuzzled into the nook of your shoulder, he grinds his half-hard cock into you impatiently, calloused palms sliding under your shirt and squeezing your tits through your bra.

You moan, the sound echoing under the low vaulted ceilings. ‘What are you doing, cowboy?’

‘Want you now,’ he rasps into the back of your neck, teeth catching the sensitive skin.

‘What’s gotten into you?’ you ask, a laugh caught in your throat as he ruts against the cleft of your ass needily, a shudder rippling through you when you feel just how much he wants you through the denim.

‘It’s the change in altitude,’ he rasps, dry humping you in earnest now, his fingers fumbling with the front of the zipper. ‘And you’re really fuckin’ sexy in these jeans.’

‘Such a sweet talker,’ you tease, reaching behind you to undo his pants. ‘We got to be quick.’

He yanks the front of your jeans down so hard the movement jolts you forwards, flipping the denim inside out and dragging it down to the middle of your thighs, your panties going with them. His question is hot in your ear. ‘Want me to use protection, darlin’?’

You don’t skip a beat with an emphatic, ‘No.’

‘Fuck,’ he growls at your one-worded answer. ‘Lettin’ me fuck you bare? I’m one lucky cowboy.’

Your pussy throbs at his words alone, and you gasp in surprise when Jack manhandles you to the middle of the room, where a row of aged barrels rest on their sides, elevated on a sturdy shelf to keep them off the floor. He bends you unceremoniously over one cask so that your front is pressed up against the curved wooden surface, then, kicking your legs apart and notching the head of his cock at the mouth of your cunt, he sinks into you in one determined thrust.

‘Jack!’ you cry out, voice hoarse, filled almost painfully full, suspended on the tips of your toes as he plants his feet and drives into you, pulling out to the tip before plunging all the way back in, so deep you feel him in your throat. His breath is harsh and hot on the shell of your ear, but you can’t hear him over your own cries.

‘That’s it, darlin’,’ he croons throatily, his jeans rubbing the back of your thighs raw as his grip on you bites into your sides, holding you in place as you writhe. ‘Such a good girl, lettin’ me bend you over like this, takin’ me so well.’

Nails skidding over the wooden grain of the barrel as you scrabble for something to hold onto, you mewl, ‘Yes, yes, yes, feels so fucking good, cowboy!’

The slap of skin on skin bounces obscenely off the walls, and between the buck of his hips and his groans, you hear the slick squelch of your pussy stretching for him.

It seems to spur him on, and he snaps harder into you, rasping, ‘Look at you naughty thin’, lettin’ me fuck you in the middle of the cellar when anyone can walk in.’

Only then does it hit you - the absurdity of having fucked your way across the open country on this packtrip, taking for granted the liberty of literally screaming to the high heavens, free from prying eyes and ears. Juxtaposed against the sudden and very real prospect of getting caught, your body instinctively reacts.

Jack feels you clench wetly around his cock, a choked chuckle halfway in his throat. ‘Fuck, you filthy girl, you like that, don’t you? Want someone to walk in on us when I’m balls deep inside this pretty pussy?’

Your back arches, and he slides in so deep you’re sure you’ll be feeling him for days after, even when you’re a thousand miles from here. ‘Yes, yes, yes sir -’

The next thing you know, he’s gripping your hair and pulling, making you watch him over your shoulder. His eyes are black, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, and he’s gone - he’s thrusting recklessly into you, and you have no idea how your spine hasn’t snapped from being bent so far backwards. Then one rope-worn palm comes down on your right ass cheek in a cracking slap, making you gag on a half-groan, slick trickling down your thighs at the sting.

Jack leans over you now, caging you between his arms, his soft kisses on your neck an antithesis to the uncompromising rhythm at which he’s pounding into you. He coaxes, ‘Gonna cum for me, darlin’?’

Two of his fingers nudge between your legs and you whine when they make landing on your swollen clit. You nod desperately, clawing at the smooth wooden barrel under you. ‘Yes Jack, please make me cum. Please.’

‘Don’t you worry, you will,’ he says matter-of-factly, smearing mouth and tongue down the side of your neck. ‘You can do it. Make a mess on my cock, c’mon, darlin’ -’

When you clamp down around him, it takes Jack everything - everyfuckin’thin’ - not to let go and pump into you, fill that tight little cunt as you wail his name, quaking and squirming in his grasp. Air doesn’t quite reach his lungs, and he’s biting so hard on the insides of his mouth that it swells instantly, wanting so badly to mark you, to possess you in the most primal way a man can -

With a strangled groan, he pulls out, but only just - he’s already cumming before he can even wrap a fist around his cock, spurting crudely all over the swollen lips of your pussy and the curve of your ass as he milks himself dry, shudder after shudder. His spend drips so prettily down the back of your thighs, stopping just short of staining your jeans, that he goes light-headed for a moment. He sways, and if not for you grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a lazy kiss, he probably would’ve keeled over.

He looks down at the mess he made, crooning into your ear, ‘You’re so beautiful covered in my cum, darlin’.’

You squeak, startled, when he runs this thumb down your slit, still so slick and wet for him, and he has to fight the urge to fucking scoop up his cum shove it into you, filling you only to have it drool out of you when he holds the pretty lips open -

He feels your eyes on him, like you can tell what he’s thinking. He winces, shame rearing its head as he apologises, ‘I’m sorry, I got carried away. Was it - too much?’

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you pull him down for another kiss. ‘Never. I’ll take everything you’ve got, cowboy.’

Jack somehow has a handkerchief in his shirt pocket, which he brandishes with a flourish, prompting a giggle from you. ‘A gentleman if I’ve ever seen one.’

With a playful smirk, he declares, ‘Damn straight - my mama raised me right.’

Gently, Jack cleans you up, and you’re happy to let him do all the work, your body heavy and sated. When he’s done, he swivels you around and presses his lips to your temple. ‘Come back to my house tonight, darlin’?’

You tuck your nose into the crook of his neck and breathe in deeply. ‘I’d love to, cowboy.’

He’s carefully folding up the soiled handkerchief and tucking it into his back pocket when you hear footsteps on the stairs, and the two of you have barely pulled up your jeans when the door swings open.

There’s a dramatic pause as Teak takes in your dishevelled state and none too guilty faces. Looking distinctly unsurprised, he bursts into laughter nonetheless. ‘The cellar? Is nothin’ sacred to you heathens?’

The cookout winds down over bubbling hot peach cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream that Teak collected from the freezer in the kitchen on the way back. It’s pushing ten o’clock when Champ calls it a night, and you all help with bringing the dirty dishes and leftovers inside.

Poppy and Ginger make quick work of putting all the food in tupperware and into the fridge. Jack and Teak load up the dishwasher as you finish off the last of your drink.

Champ dusts his hands, as if he’s the one who’s done all the tidying up, and asks, ‘Your flight tomorrow isn’t until afternoon is it?’

You nod, passing Jack your empty glass. ‘Yeah, I need to drop off my rental truck as well, so I think I’ll have to leave around eleven.’

He pats you on the back. ‘Alright then, we’ll see you tomorrow mornin’. Have a good night’s sleep, young lady.’

‘Say goodbye before you go,’ adds Ginger, giving you a peck on the cheek.

‘Dinner was incredible, Poppy, thank you,’ you smile as she pulls you into a warm hug.

The redhead winks at you. ‘My absolute pleasure. I’ll fix you a little takeaway lunch to go tomorrow for the journey home. No plane food allowed for our guests!’

The kitchen empties until it’s just you, Jack and Teak, with the latter grinning at you two like a lunatic. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugs. ‘So you guys wanna hang, or -’

‘Get the fuck outta here, Teak!’ Jack growls.

The taller cowboy ambles over to you, joints loose with alcohol, and gives you what can only be described as a bear hug.

‘Just try keep it down, will ya? It’s real quiet in the valley at night and some of us have to work early tomorrow,’ he ribs with an insolent wink. ‘Guess we won’t see you lovebirds at breakfast?’

‘Not if you’re there,’ Jack retorts, to which Teak flashes a good-natured middle finger and saunters off into the night.

Jack draws you into his arms and you slump against him, relieved that you’re finally alone. ‘Shall we, darlin’?’

His fingers curl securely around the back of your hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles at the base of yours as he closes the kitchen door behind you. It strikes you this is actually the first time you’re holding hands - there was no need for that when you were in the saddle, or camped in close proximity.

Your cheeks stretch with a smile so wide that the muscles ache. The mundanity of walking side by side, hand in hand, shouldn’t be this thrilling.

It’s quiet other than the grind of gravel under your boots and Jack’s heavier ones. The night air is sweet, the blanket of stars above you just as magical, but it’s not quite the same kind of stillness at the lower altitude. Perhaps it’s the way the sound travels with buildings and other people around, maybe the very physics of it is fundamentally different.

Turning into the parking lot, your attention is piqued by a handsome motorcycle parked all on its lonesome next to the main lodge.

Pride in his voice, Jack says, ‘Darlin’, meet the Silver Pony.’

You know nothing about motorcycles, but you can appreciate the sleek lines, the classy tan leather seat and the retro elegance about her as you circle it. Her silver paint job gleams in the lonely porch light. ‘She’s beautiful, cowboy.’

‘She’s an old girl but she got good bones. I restored her myself,’ he proclaims proudly, before admitting, ‘And well, Teak helped too.’

Opening a little cabinet attached to the side of the main lodge, Jack pulls out a helmet that has you laughing. It’s painted red white and blue, stars, stripes and the full monty, with the word WHISKEY painted across the front in bold formation.

He grins at you. ‘Found it in a yard sale. Too good to pass up.’

Lowering it over your head, he tightens the strap carefully under your chin. It’s a bit big, but it’ll do for a short ride. Blinking up at him, it brings you back to that first day in the stables, and you feel the same pull that you did when he fitted you with your hat.

Except this time, you can do something about it. Standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, you giggle when your helmet slips and knocks into his forehead with a clunk.

Putting on his own sensible black helmet, he plants his left foot by the side of the bike and swings his right leg over the leather seat.

You’re taken aback by the spike in your pulse at the sight - you’d think that having seen him on horseback all week would have prepared you for it. But there’s something about the way he leans over the top of the motorcycle, thighs wrapped around the metal body, forearms flexing as he grasps the handlebar.

Starting the ignition and knocking back the kickstand with the heel of his cowboy boot, Jack nods at you. ‘Hop on, darlin’.’

You do, and you don’t need to be told to hold on tight.

The Silver Pony purrs to a stop outside a modest cottage, about a ten-minute cruise from the ranch, down a short dirt track from the main road. It’s pitch black except for the headlights that illuminate an unexpectedly floral front garden. You hop off and take off your helmet before Jack kills the engine, plunging you into a very familiar darkness.

Switching on the light on his phone, he reaches for your hand and pulls you gently to his side, his solid warmth welcome even though it’s nowhere as chilly as it was up on the mountains. Flashing the light towards the front yard, he tells you, ‘Ginger has quite the green finger, this is all her work. It took some time, but the vegetable patch is just startin’ to come through this season.’

Keys jangling, Jack unlocks the front door and ushers you inside, flipping on the lights.

It’s a cosy space, not big by country standards, but more than spacious enough for one cowboy. It’s clearly a man’s house, with a distinct lack of decorative touches other than a vintage map of Wyoming hanging over a dining table and a crowded bookshelf by the door. Dark wood with orange knots line the floors and ceilings, the warm tones reminding you of nights around the campfire.

Walking through the tidy but lived-in space, you pass an open kitchen with a breakfast bar that backs into the living room. A rustic stone fireplace stands in the corner, bracketed by a cosy sectional with deep seats.

Jack watches you mill about, taking everything in. When you stop by the fireplace, he asks jokingly from across the room, ‘So, what’s the verdict?’

You tease, ‘Not gonna lie - I’m disappointed there aren’t more spurs and lassos on the walls.’

He chuckles and steps into the kitchen. ‘You want a nightcap?’

‘Just water thank you, I think I’ve had enough to drink.’

Filling up two glasses at the sink, he crosses the room to join you at the mantelpiece.

‘How long have you been living here?’ you ask, setting your glass on the shelf after taking a sip.

He takes a moment to reply. ‘I took a long break off work after my wife died, then moved in here straight after. Couldn’t stand bein’ in our house alone - couldn’t bear bein’ there at all.’ He pauses, and his lips quirk with a wry smile. ‘Champ and Teak packed everythin’ up for me and drove it all here.’

His honesty hits you squarely in the chest, the weight of the grief behind his words nearly knocking you back a step. You reach for him, closing the two-step distance and wrapping your arms tight around his waist.

Eyes closed, he lets you anchor him to the moment. Maybe he shouldn’t, but the confession slips right through his teeth. ‘I haven’t brought any women here. Ever.’

He holds his breath as he feels you hold yours.

You mumble into his chest, ‘You have to stop making it harder for me to leave, cowboy.’

Then don’t.

The two words are on the tip of his tongue, and for a second, he worries that he actually said them out loud. But he knows he can’t. It’s mad. It’s been a week. It’s not fair on you, not when you have a whole life back in the city, thousands of miles away, and his is right here in the shadow of the Bighorn Mountains.

So he says nothing.

Eventually, you pull back and tip your face up towards him. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the wetness lining the seams of your eyes.

‘Let’s go to bed, cowboy.’

He watches you from the doorway, where he leans idly against the frame, body relaxed from the whiskey sodas at dinner. The curtains are drawn and the light from the bedside lamp soft, casting orange shades on the walls and your skin as you shrug on the shirt he leaves out for you. The last button done, you snuggle comfortably under his sheets, and his heart lurches.

Not for the first time, the thought crosses his mind -

You look like you belong here.

‘Are you gonna stare all night, cowboy?’ you tease, sinking into the pillows.

He shrugs and closes the door behind him, shedding his clothes as he goes. ‘Can’t help it, darlin,’. You look good in my bed.’

‘It’s so comfy,’ you sigh happily, watching him strip down to his boxers.

‘It’s just the hard ground talkin’,’ he says, climbing in next to you. Bundling you into his arms and sliding one leg between yours, he kisses you, a deep exhale leaving him as he does. You smile so wide the corners of your eyes crease, and he watches as they land somewhere behind him.

His stomach drops when it dawns on him what catches your attention.

But it’s too late. You sit up, leaning over him and grabbing a hold of it with gentle hands.

You stare up at him. ‘Jack.’

He doesn’t even remember the last time he really looked at the photo. It’s there when he wakes up, when he goes to bed. It sits on the bedside table by the lamp, probably covered in dust.

Untouched.

His silence doesn’t deter you, but your tone is soft, and he understands that you’re giving him an out if he wants it. ‘What’s her name?’

His throat goes drier than sandpaper, and he’s suddenly speaking through a mouthful of cotton. It takes him two tries before he manages to enunciate. ‘Addison. Everyone called her Addie.’

‘Was this taken at your wedding?’

He nods, picking at a loose thread on the comforter.

‘Look at you all dashing in a suit, cowboy,’ you hum appreciatively, tracing a fingertip over the smart dark grey tweed jacket with navy accents. ‘Where did you get married?’

‘At her parents’ ranch.’

‘Under this magnolia tree?’

He nods again. ‘It was her favourite spot.’

‘She’s so beautiful,’ you say quietly.

His eyes dart to the photo in your grasp despite himself. Swallowing thickly, he says, ‘She’s buried there now, where she was always happiest.’

At that, you return the photo to its place on the bedside table, almost solemnly. This is usually the point when people stop asking questions, so when you snuggle into the crook of his shoulder, gazing at him expectantly, he frowns in confusion.

‘What is it, darlin’?’

‘Tell me about her.’

Jack is stumped, flustered at your request. He shifts, sitting up stiffly against the headboard. ‘Like what?’

You shrug. ‘I don’t know. Like - how did you meet?’

His answer is short, factual. ‘On the rodeo circuit. We both worked on the tour.’

You give him an encouraging nudge. ‘And? What was she like?’

‘She -’ he pauses and holds his breath, weighing his words. In the end, it’s the truth that he tells you. ‘She was the best person.’

He stutters to a stop again, but you’re still peering at him, your expression curious and open. He knows you won’t push him, he trusts that you wouldn’t. He could reach out and switch off the light right now, and he knows you’d leave it at that.

But a small part of him demurs. He doesn’t have the words to describe it, but something unsettling and hopeful at once stirs in his stomach, one that is stopping him from cutting short this somewhat unconventional pillow talk.

So he tests the words on his tongue, starting with something small. ‘She was a cat person. All the barn cats loved her, no matter where we went on the circuit.’

Watching the way your eyes smile at the detail, he feels a little lighter. He adds, ‘We literally had cats camping out in our truck, and I’m allergic, so I’d be sneezing and covered in hives on the long-distance drives between rodeos.’

You laugh, and his chest swells with the realisation that he doesn’t remember the last time any mention of his wife sparked anything but sad side glances and commiserating pats on the back - let alone joy.

Over the years, he had let go of her joy. Because it doesn’t hurt as much to mourn her this way.

And the guilt that he did this, took the easy way out, is almost too much for one soul-crushing moment - until you lay your head on his chest, unfurling one hand and pressing it into his side, literally holding him together, rib by rib.

He tells you about Addie. Things he’s been afraid to remember, but even more afraid that he had forgotten. Her likes, pet peeves, where she went to college, her favourite show, her irrational fear of butterflies, her favourite dress, the song that always got her up on her feet dancing wherever she was, whatever she was doing, when it came on the radio.

You listen, picking up on the way his voice falls back into that beautiful Southern cadence that you have come to know as he remembers his wife, nothing but love in his eyes as the guardedness fades with each memory he confides in you. You pepper the pauses with follow-up questions and playful quips where you’re draped across him, one arm folded underneath you and the other over his waist, but you feel yourself nodding off as the hour grows late.

He holds you to him, his palm spanning your lower back, until you go quiet.

Jack is tired, his own lids drooping with impending slumber, the sprint down memory lane taking more out of him than he expected. Brushing a kiss to the crown of your head, he rolls you off his front and onto your side, tucking you into the rumpled sheets. Spooning you from behind, he murmurs one last thing on the shell of your ear.

‘She would’ve loved you, darlin’.’

Notes: When I first started this series, I didn't have a backstory developed for Jack other than that his wife died eight and a half years before Darlin' comes on the scene. It's been such an organic and fulfilling journey developing his character and his history over the series, filling in the blanks as we and Darlin' got to know him better.

It's so important to me that his wife and his grief isn't pushed to one side for the sake of easy story telling. I've dropped little hints of his bereavement throughout the series, nothing too loud, but it's there in the background, my way of paying respect to one aspect of canon Jack that touches me very deeply despite the mess the movie makes of his story.

Out of all my Reader! characters, I would say that Darlin' is my most unassuming one. Not in a bad way at all, it's just that she doesn't have as loud a personality as Shiv or Pin, or as dramatic a storyline as Sweetheart. But this chapter, she just really came into her own. That last scene will stay with me forever ❤️

Edited to add a reminder that we still have one more chapter to go before we say goodbye to these two. I’m not ready 😭

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels au #agent whiskey au #pedro pascal character fic

549 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

forgot to add on but i absolutely LOVE scorpions. under appreciated when they aren’t feared.

did you know that they dance, practically WALTZ as a mating ritual? i’d just love to have hunks like ghost in my arms when the rest are asleep as i guide him through the steps, humming a sweet little tune for a man who needs that sweet little thing in his life.

OMG yes I so just wanna be sweet with that man anon I love this idea!

CW:SFW, GN reader, Ghost, just dancing.

It's a quiet night, the crickets gently chirping to the warm night air, the rest of the lads having gone to sleep hours ago; But not Ghost, and not you, the only two souls still awake in the middle of the night.

You — because you're nocturnal, awake and energized when the sun sets. Simon — because the icy jaws of that damn coffin haunt him again, mocking him with what he's lost, his arms fizzling with shadows like the tip of the cigarette he's smoking on the roof. You had found him easily enough, not saying a word as you leaned against the railing and watched the stars, just. . . just letting him feel the existence of another person.

Simon doesn't say it, but he appreciates you being near him, gives him something to focus on other than the hollowness of his silent chest. He takes the final drag from the cigarette, snuffing it out beneath his boot. "Thanks." He says, voice rough like gravel.

You smile at him, the distant light of the lamps making the hard patches of exoskeleton glow a dim blue-green light. "No problem,". Ghost sees the way your tail slightly wiggles, your eyes setting him on edge. "Hey, dance with me?" You ask.

Ghost moves his head back as if he'd been slapped, blinking a few times to insure he heard you correct. "Whot?"

"You heard me," You shrug, straightening out as he does the same.

"Dance? With you?" He levels his gaze with you, his eyes turned completely black, not a hint of that warm brown you love so much. "May as well put a saddle on a cow."

"Oh fuck off," You snort, take a careful step as if you're facing another of your kin and you don't know if they see you as mate or as food. "C'mon, I'll lead, it's not hard." You say, placing one hand on his side, feeling the hard muscles beneath your palm.

Your heart beats just a little faster when he doesn't push you away, grunting a rough, "I'll step on yer toes." that you can't tell if it's a warning or a promise.

"Just don't lose your shoe, Cinderella." You grin back, your mandibles chittering happily as he lets you push him into position, one of his paw like hands on your shoulder, the other holding your own. Simon shivers at the contact, the obvious difference between your warm body and his corpse like temperature.

"Relax," You coo softly, talking him through the steps. He's a big mountain of muscle but in your arms he may as well be putty, clumsy as he tries to move along with the slow tempo you set. He tries to keep his attention on where his feet are, trying to grasp the moves despite how simple they are, irritation making the edges of his shape smoke with shadows at how he can't grasp it.

He steps on your toes more than a couple of times. "Told you so." He says the next time he does it by accident, but you just snort, pulling him closer so your chests are flush, a low chitter in your throat.

"I know, I know. But you're doing good." You hum, feeling your heat seep into his cold body. "Now stop looking at your feet and look at me."

Simon just grunts, but his eyes settle on you like you're the only thing that exists. You smile at him, squeeze his hand three times as a silent declaration of love, starting to hum a tune that's equal parts sweet hums and melodic clicks, soft and calming.

It takes a few minutes for Simon to squeeze your hand back three times, your tune ringing in his ears like a caress, a blanket for his mind. Slowly you can see the warm brown return to his eyes, the darkness crawling back to that grave without him.

"Gonna teach me how to tap-dance next?" He asks absentmindedly, his body almost warm enough as your waltz turns into mindless swaying.

"I'd prefer you learn to twerk with the ass you have." Your mandibles click as you laugh lowly, grinning when it earns you a soft chuckle so you lean over to kiss him gently.

His skin tingles from your touch, like coming back from a cold winter to warm himself by the fire. He doesn't need to breathe but his chest still moves, stuttering as if lost for breath before taking in your scent as he holds you close. His heart's grown cobwebs over the years, yet being chest to chest with you, feeling the strong beat of your heart, almost fools him into thinking his own still functions.

His mind drift, losing focus of every inch of his body and just slowly swaying with you under the stars, his head tipping to rest on you. He lets you move the two of you however you want; So long as you don't pull away, so long as your warmth spreads trough him, so long as he can feel your heart and the rumble of your chest and the soft tune you hum just for him.

He almost feels alive again.

It's nice.

#cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #male reader #top male reader #gn reader #top gn reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #fluff #monster 141 au #monster cod au

358 notes · View notes

morallyinept · 5 months

Text

COWBOY CHRISTMAS - A Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) Christmas One Shot

Summary: Your husband Jack takes you out on a snowy Christmas Eve horse ride around the ranch, then helps you thaw out after.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Daniels x Wife!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Husband Jack hits differently and I'm here for it. Horsey speak researched because I'm not a horsey person. Neigh. I hope you enjoy spending Christmas with Jack. 🎄

Tagging @ladybess-a03 as Jack is her husband 🤠🖤

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“Now, you hold on tight to them reins there, sugar. Don’t want ol’ Thunder here gallopin’ off into the breach.” Jacks says to you with a wink.

You watch as he buttons up his denim jacket; a woolly sheepskin lines the collar inside around his neck. “Hoo, it’s a chilly one this mornin’!” He exclaims in that Southern twang making sweet, unbashed love to his vocal chords.

“Remind me why I let you talk me into this?” You say, feeling the cold rake it’s sharp fingernails down your spine.

“'Cause I can talk you into anythin'." He grins. "Besides, you’re gonna love it.” He assures.

“I love our warm bed more.” You mutter, trying not to smirk.

You grip tight on the leather reins with your gloved hands as the horse snuffles gently; the cool air wisps out of his large, wet nostrils in gossamer tendrils, floating into the air.

The snow is fresh and crisp on the ground; the Ranch is covered in billowy marshmallows heaped on the roof like someone let the powdered sugar pour overnight. The whole scene looks as though a snow globe has been shaken up and long since settled with the coarse glitter of it all glimmering under the pallor of the winter sun; a pale blue orb lingering in the sky.

A Christmas Eve morning horse ride with your husband Jack sounded appealing when he suggested it, but now that you’re the one in the driver’s seat so to speak, you're not so sure, as your stomach tosses about with the anxiousness of it all.

It’s not that you’re not a keen rider, it’s just that Jack’s array of Appaloosas and Mustangs from the rodeo show - that’s been a lucrative business for you both, if not but a hectic one - can always seem to sense your trepidation, and do everything they can to keep you from venturing near them, let alone mounting them.

But Jack’s a determined son of a gun to get you used to it, and a few lessons with a deep brown Lusitano named Thunder, seem to be paying off, as the two of you bond the more time you spend with the stallion.

Thunder stands at a regal sixteen hands, his physique a perfect blend of strength and elegance. His coat is a rich chestnut, gleaming under the dappled sunlight like polished mahogany. He's probably the most handsome thing you've ever laid eyes on, aside from your husband, of course.

Jack had assured you that Thunder’s physique, combined with his gentle demeanour and keen intelligence, made him not just a stunning horse, but also an ideal companion for you.

And that smooth talking cowboy hadn’t been wrong yet.

Jack hoists himself up, grunting with a steely puff as he settles on the double saddle behind you. Not brave enough yet to go it alone in the snow, Jack rides tandem with you this morning.

The front of his Stetson knocks gently against the back of your head as he adjusts, and the horse pads his front hooves in anticipation to get going.

“Easy, Thunder,” he soothes as he reaches around and checks the reins. “You good to go, sweet thing?” Jack asks you.

“What are you going to hold on to?” You query as he lets go of the reins, turning to glance at him over your shoulder warily.

You’ve seen Jack ride plenty of times, to the point he trusts his stallions and mares implicitly. There's some magical fluidity between them as you watch from the sidelines of the paddock when they practise together.

Although each time he rides free and un-reined, you can’t help but grimace and worry, especially when he shows off in the rodeo ring.

“Why, your gorgeous self, of course!” You feel him pinch your hips playfully and then his arms wrap around your waist. He pats your belly softly.

“I got you, nice n' tight.” The wetness of his lips are cold as they squish against your cheek where he kisses you affectionately. You giggle as his fuzzy moustache tickles against your skin.

“Now, you’re the one in control, remember. Just like I taught you. Pull back gently if you want him to slow down.”

“Okay.” You nod, taking in a deep breath and sounding much more confident than you actually feel. And Jack picks up on it and rubs your arms down.

“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, sugar. He’s infatuated with you.” Jack reassures. He holds you tighter and runs his nose against the side of your face. “And he ain’t the only one.” he murmurs.

“You keep doing that and we’re never getting out of this damn paddock,” you groan as he nips against your lobe, tonguing it slyly.

Despite the cold, you suddenly feel the warmth creeping up under your jacket trying to strangle you.

He chuckles and pulls back, sitting himself upright and placing his hands together around your waist again.

“Let’s skedaddle.” He instructs.

You breathe out, clicking your tongue twice and squeeze your legs gently against the underside of Thunder. He immediately trots forward languidly.

“There you go, nice n' easy there. See, he ain’t so buck wild after all, is he now?” Jack says.

“No, he’s a good boy,” you say, leaning forward and patting Thunder’s head as he strides forward out the paddock. “A good boy that’s going to go nice and slow, okay?” You whisper, imploring the horse.

Thunder simply snorts in response.

You settle into it; a gentle trot across the acres of the Ranch on this wintery morning. You can feel the cold biting against your face as you tuck your chin into your scarf to ward off the nip.

The scene is magical; treetops covered in plumes of glittery white, and every sound seems more muted somehow, wrapped up in a bundle of snow that acts as a cosy insulator.

The soft pads of Thunder’s hooves against the cold ground, and Jack's breathing just behind your ear, are the only sounds you can hear around the exquisite peace.

And you lose yourself to it, closing your eyes and resting back against Jack’s chest as you relax into the ride together.

“You doin’ alright there?” Jack asks, and you feel his gloved hands rubbing back and forth against your stomach creating fluttery wings to beat and flap around inside of it.

“Mmm,” you reply. “This is just beautiful.” You confirm feeling more taken with it all. “This was a great idea.”

“I’m mighty glad you feel that way, darlin’. We gotta get you out ridin’ some more.” Jack suggests.

“I do plenty of riding, cowboy.” You toss a hot smirk at him over your shoulder.

“Christ. Ain’t that the truth.” He chuckles.

You feel his hands squeeze your hips again and his breaths are felt warming in the crook of your neck.

“Wanna kick it up a notch?”

“Go faster?” You peep with alarm.

“Sure, you can handle it.”

“But the snow, isn’t that dangerous?”

Jack scoffs. “Snow’s fresh, darlin’. No ice.”

“But-”

“Gotta trust in your horse.”

You make an uncertain noise in the back of your throat.

“Ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you.” Jack reassures and your uncertainty begins to waver as you feel yourself melt in the sincerity of his eyes.

“Okay.” You nod, smiling.

“That’s my girl. Go on, now. Squeeze your calves against him. That’s it, you’re doin’ real good.” Jack praises as Thunder ups his paces to a gentle canter, full of brio and a little faster than his previous meandering.

He bows and nods his large head, whinnying.

“Oh see, he likes that. Our boy here was bred for speed.” Jack pats the back of the stallion’s neck and Thunder snuffles in response.

You can feel your fingers gripping tighter on the reins, your body tensing up.

“You trust me, sugar?” You hear Jack pollute in your ear.

You turn to look at him incredulously.

“He wants to run. Gotta give it to him.”

“Oh God.” You wince.

You steady yourself as Thunder nickers and snuffles again. Jack takes your hand and weaves it around Thunder’s mane. A trick he does himself whilst on the rodeo to be sure to stay on if the horse should suddenly veer off.

Your gloved fingers hold tightly through the silken hair whilst your other hand grips on the reins as tight as you can.

“He’ll take care of you. We both will.” Jack takes a hold of the reins with you, his arms either side. “Hold on tight, darlin’.”

You steady yourself, holding on tightly as he instructs and bracing yourself.

“Hup! Hup!” You hear Jack instruct Thunder with a sharp command, and the horse bolts forward.

He attacks the gallop at full speed, like he's running for his life. Like he was born to do nothing else other then run.

“Shit, Jack!” You gasp, as he takes full control.

The sounds of Thunder’s hooves are louder and feel like they crack and echo across the sky. Your body is forced into a galloping rhythm; your butt bashing up and down against the saddle as you try to find some comfort with it.

You rise up, remembering to anchor yourself in the stirrups, leaning forward like your body is floating as Thunder moves under you.

You can feel Jack’s body against yours, moving with you. He has both hands on the reins, but has manoeuvred so you're safe inside his arms too.

“See why I named him Thunder now?!” Jack muses as he bears down on the reins and the horse’s speed increases furthermore.

You can feel Thunder’s muscles bunch and release. You can feel and hear his hooves hit the ground in heavy thuds that ricochet through your skeleton, and see the hypnotic, rhythmic motion of his head, which you’re following with your hands.

It’s exhilarating.

The cold wind whips through your bones, despite the jacket and scarf’s protection. You hear Jack holler and chuckle behind you.

“Alright now!” He cheers triumphantly as Thunder takes a sharp turn, effortlessly, and you cling on for dear life grounding down on your teeth and steadying yourself with your stirrups.

“Oh my God!” You wail as the exhilaration begins to twist that fear into utter elation.

Your teeth feel the cold as you can’t contain the wild smile opening up your lips as you giggle and holler alongside Jack; his enthusiasm and passion for the ride infecting you.

The wind is blowing so hard that you really can’t see or hear very clearly and Thunder’s ears twitch up as you holler an enthusiastic woo! Into the air. It feels like you're flying as the wind streams tears from your eyes.

Thunder’s hooves beat frantically against the snow and the ride through the acres soon comes to an end as Jack instructs you to slow Thunder to a steady trot once more.

You can sense Thunder’s reluctance, he would run forever if he could, but you pull on the reins and announce for him to slow and he does.

“Woah, easy. Easy…” you soothe as he tries to resist, but eventually settles back into that steady canter as you all catch your collective breath.

You wipe your eyes with the back of your woolly hand and Jack smiles at you.

“That was amazing,” you admit, your body shaking, not just from the cold now.

“I knew you’d love it.” He replies, grinning. “Your husband knows you better than you think.”

“Sometimes,” you tease.

“Sometimes?” He scoffs and stamps another kiss on your cold cheek.

Once in the paddock, Jack jumps off and helps you down. You lunge for him, planting a heavy kiss on his lips and slip your tongue into his hot, wet mouth.

“What’s got you so hot n’ bothered, hmm?” He murmurs against your lips.

“Adrenaline.” You shrug giggling, as you stroke the back of Jack's nape where his brown curls gather under his suede Stetson.

His hands sweep through your hair, messy from being wind-whipped and he studies your face with chocolate mocha eyes. You shiver as he pulls you to him.

“Fuck, sugar.” He groans as you press your mouth to his again; your kiss mutating into something desperate and untamed.

You both stumble backwards and Jack loses his footing and pulls you down with him in the muddy slush around the paddock.

“Ah shit,” he groans, chuckling.

You squeal as you feel the cold and wet instantly soak into your jeans. Scrambling, you try to get up, but slip further into the mud as Jack gives up and howls loudly at your plight.

He’s rewarded with a glop of mud thrown at his chest.

“Need a hand there, darlin’?” Once he’s contained himself enough, he helps you up and you both head back to the Ranch to warm up.

“Go on n’ get yourself inside. I’ll wrangle Thunder back into the stable. Reckon it might snow again soon.” He glances up at the sky, the sun long since besmirched by clouds of grey.

“Don’t take too long, handsome” you smirk.

“Lickety-split.” Jack breathes into your mouth as you kiss him again.

You look at the state of you both, covered in freezing mud, and Jack has some splashed up on his forehead, and you can’t help but laugh at the state of you both, despite shivering.

“Why don’t you run us a bath?” Jack suggests with dark eyes, and you nod as if under a captive spell.

You leave your muddy boots on the porch and head inside. The warmth hits you immediately and you shimmy yourself out of your wet jacket, blowing into your hands that feel like icicles, despite the gloves.

You pace up the stairs, wading somewhat as your jeans stick to you, to the bathroom and fill the large jacuzzi-style tub with hot water, stripping as you notice snowflakes starting to billow lightly outside.

“Missed your calling as a weatherman, Jack.” You snicker to yourself.

You toss in a fragrant bath bomb and light some incense filling the bathroom with heady notes of sandalwood, patchouli, and exotic florals; the swirling tendrils evoking a sense of tranquillity as your skin starts to perspire.

You step into the sizzling, enveloping water that seems to wrap its arms around you with the inviting warmth as you succumb to it wholly.

You breathe out slowly, moaning in relief as you slide your shoulders under the water, the temperature burning you slightly and relishing the feel of it.

You swill the water around; lavishing yourself in the foamy remnants of the bath bomb. You eventually lay still in the water and breathe in and out a few times, keeping your eyes closed.

Your cold, aching muscles from the ride find some sedated bliss in those first few moments; like someone has slowly squeezed the angst and stress out of you like juicing an orange.

You close your eyes and relax, feeling the weight start to drop from you.

The invigorating peace is interrupted by the bathroom door slowly creaking open and footsteps pad in lightly on the tiled floor.

You turn your head, smiling at Jack as he unbuttons his plaid shirt and drops it to his feet.

You sit up, watching him, and try not to obscenely salivate over your husband as he unbuckles his belt with a slow, deliberate simmer at you, but it's hard not to. He’ll always have that effect on you when he gets naked.

Your eyes roam over tan, sculpted arms, a svelte waist and long legs smattered with dark hairs, before you settle in on the thick, hardening cock between his legs.

“Scooch on forward, sugar,” he says softly with a wink, standing at the side of the tub; that semi hard-on already taking shape and protruding out from his lean, muscular body.

He steps in and sits down in the water behind you; his long legs running parallel either side of you.

“Couldn’t resist,” you hum.

“You gettin’ started without me, hmm?” Jack queries as he pulls you back into his chest, wrapping his arms over your stomach again.

You feel him plant kisses into your crown as you nuzzle into him.

“Scrub my back for me?” You question coyly over your shoulder, and flutter your eyelashes at him.

The steam in the bathroom makes the mirror frost over with condensation and the air seems to vibrate around you both and stick to your clammy skin.

You sit upright; the water making your back glisten at him and he licks his lips as he regards you.

“Well, how can I resist such a tempting offer?” Jack smiles and reaches for the soap on the side of the bath behind him, lathering it up in his big hands.

You feel his hands massaging into your shoulders; his fingers kneading away all the tension and the slippery feel of the soap foaming on your back, squelching through his thick digits.

“Mmm,” you sigh as he works his thumbs down either side of your spinal cord.

“That feel good, hmm?” Jack husks from behind you, squeezing and manipulating the muscles under your skin. He knows it’s good - knows it will drive you wild.

“Real good…” You utter, eyes closed and lost inside of his hypnotic rhythms and magic hands.

You can hear him breathe in your ear and feel him plant lascivious kisses down the side of your damp face. The faint scratch of his shaven jaw runs prickly against your skin; the soft fuzz of his moustache counteracting it begins to tickle again.

It begins to wake your nipples up; sending goosebumps to bloom around your areolas pulling them tight and tingly.

He runs his fingers down your back and up under your arms sitting forward himself, and slathers the soapy lather in his hands across your collarbone and down towards your breasts.

Your breath hitches as his roaming fingers tease your nipples, pulling and rolling them gently, and you sink back into his chest once more as he massages. He runs the open palms of his hands all over them; cupping, squeezing, fondling.

“That’s so nice,” you groan as he kisses the side of your temple.

“I told you, I know you well.” You can hear him grin, a graze inside your ear.

His wet, soapy fingers continue to work their way down your torso, gliding across your navel before he gives it a gentle squeeze and strokes gently.

“What’re we gonna name this lil’ dill pickle in here, hmm?” Jack asks, and you glance down at your tummy, still flat, but in a few months time it’ll be swollen and rotund as the baby grows.

“Depends what he looks like when he comes out. Hopefully not like a dill pickle. I hate pickles.” You say, crinkling your nose.

You hear Jack snort behind you into your hair. “Hates pickles. I married me a mad one.”

“You knew what you were getting yourself into, cowboy.” You chuckle.

“Mmhm. He?” He queries.

“Feels like a he.” You say, placing your hands on top of Jack’s. The light of your wedding band shimmering in the wet. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Jack breathes in, his lips grazing your skin behind your ear “as long as it’s healthy, darlin’, it don’t matter. Gonna love it all the same.”

You smile, reaching up behind you to stroke his face. You feel him peck your fingers.

“When he's out, I’ll put another one in there.” He confirms.

“Woah, hold your horses,” you say.

“You just try n’ stop me, sugar. Got yourself a virile man. Gonna have a whole bunch of lil’ rodeo riders gallopin’ about the joint.” Jack pinches your hips gently and you giggle when he hits a ticklish spot as he gruffs another chuckle in your ear.

He feels you flinch and the top of your buttocks push against his cock that has long since hardened completely under the water.

“Besides, I'm waitin’ for these to grow nice n’ big, too,” Jack smirks.

Jack kisses down the side of your face once more; his lips searching yours out and finally making contact with them as you twist yourself in the water to reach them.

His tongue darts into your mouth as he squeezes onto your right breast, and a satisfied grunt escapes into your mouth from him.

You splash water at him as he growls playfully into you, moaning as you kiss him again.

It makes all the hairs of your body stand tall to order, hearing him moan like that - moan for you. Warming you as you inhale them in; oxygen to your lungs.

Filling you deep with sweet images of him teaching your child - or several of them - to ride horses and take care of them. The thought of Jack’s paternal instincts rile you up even further.

Although it doesn’t take much with the hormones either.

His kiss is hungry; swallowing you up and you raise your wet hands to finger inside of his hair, weaving through it gently at first, but becoming fiercer with tugs as he reacts to it.

You wonder what else it’ll be that you’ll crave this much as your pregnancy advances, because you're constantly craving your husband inside you, night and day it seems.

And neither of you are complaining about it.

He follows the track of bubbles down your body with his hand, slides down over your torso and abdomen until his fingers reach forward and disappear between the middle of your legs inside the bubbly pool.

You gasp, breaking the kiss as you feel them instantly finding your clit and shudder as he swipes across it with the pads of his tips. They tease between your soapy folds. His middle finger starts tapping and rubbing against your hub, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Suck, darlin’... just like that.”

His other hand grips gently around under your face, stroking your jawline as his digits run over your lips when he breaks the kiss.

Hooded brown eyes regard you before inserting his index and middle finger into your mouth.

You suck on them gently, and run your tongue over them as his other fingers thrum heavier on your clit under the water, causing it to swill around you as you fidget, grinding against his fingers as he slowly teases you with them.

He can still feel the viscous slickness of you around them, feeling silkier in the water.

“You feel that, sugar? What you’re doin’ to me? Got my cock all big n' hard for you.” His fingers move off your clit and begin to take a walk inside of you, and you gasp again in delight.

Jack marvels with mud coloured eyes as you lap at his fingers, imagining they’re his cock. They taste slightly salty like it; rough and calloused skin being soothed by your tongue.

He groans into your ear nipping at your lobe, as you feel him pressing against your lower back and getting harder by the second.

“Mmm, Jack…” His name escapes out of your mouth, dripping in honey and all things sweet.

The fingers you’ve been sucking on run across your throat and he kisses you more forcefully as he slides his digits in and out of your pussy, gaining momentum.

Your part your legs wider so he can delve in further to you, arching back up against him as the sensation of tingles flood outwards from your core all over your body and skin, crackling outwards like fuzzed lightning.

“Fuck!” You pant as he works you up and pushes you closer and closer to the edge until you finally leap off.

An electrifying sensation courses through you, sparking an intoxicating blend of satisfaction and euphoria as you gasp out.

“Jack!”

“Fuck, darlin’, that’s it.” Jack encourages as the heel of his palm grinds heavily against your clit as he fingers you through your pulsing orgasm.

Your thighs jolt and shudder as he strokes gentler now, teasing circles around your sensitive bud after withdrawing his slick soaked fingers.

You twist around in the bath completely to face him. You want him; want him hard and are going to take him - hard.

“Fuck,” you moan, taking him in.

He lays back in the tub, knees open wide with plumes of suds, and cock resting heavy and thick against his stomach.

It makes you salivate to see him like this; so fucking gorgeous and wet, and all yours.

“See somethin’ you like?” He smirks.

You run your drenched hands over his cock, nodding. Feeling how he pulses and the veins throb around your grip as you jerk him slowly.

“Show me again how well you can ride, sugar.” Jack challenges, as you grin.

You straddle him, sliding up and down against him; your lips teasing him as you rub against his hard, thick length.

“Gimme that pussy, darlin’.”

“You want it, cowboy?” You utter as you slip back and forth over him.

“Oh, you know I want it.” He hisses through his teeth as you rub your cunt up and down his length, groaning as it still tingles on your clit. “Always want this fuckin’ gorgeous pussy.”

You sit down on his thick cock that’s poking out of the water at you, inviting you onto its swollen, wet head. The water sloshes around you both as he grabs at your hips and grinds you down onto his throbbing dick.

“Fuck,” he grits as he fills you.

You balance your weight on your arms, holding onto the edges of the tub, sliding up and down him; bouncing that pussy of yours off of his cock.

“C’mon, sugar. Ride me. Ride your cowboy.” Jack tempts.

Jack thrusts his hips upwards to meet you halfway as you thud back down on him, making you both cry out.

“Fuck, like that!” He hollers, the water now splashing over the sides of the tub onto the floor with your intense determination to get off.

“That feel good, darlin'? Lemme see you. Eyes on me, sweet thing. Christ, look at you... So fuckin’ gorgeous on my dick. That's it now, work it... Like that. Aw, hell yeah, like that…” he croons, panting.

He can feel himself becoming more and more frantic with you and you love it. You grip onto his hands, anchoring yourself as he bucks underneath you; lifting his hips as you ride him deeper and faster.

“Jack! Fuck!”

You’re wailing as your head snaps back, suds flicking up the tiles, and the water in the tub is nothing more than a swirling whirlpool around you both.

You can feel the brewing of your orgasm; the tightening inside your stomach and the deep pull of your cunt cinching around him.

It’s a delicious feeling as you unwind yourself completely. The air in the bathroom carrying a heavy, languid heat, wrapping you in a heady cocoon of sensual bliss.

Jack gorges on the vision of you, sitting atop him; breasts shiny with the soapy water dripping down them, jiggling up and down. Panting and groaning for him as your body runs slick with water and bubbles.

The blooming feeling, like a sunlit daydream, unfolds with gentle intensity that bathes you in a soft, golden glow as it builds from within.

A velvet touch of warmth that lingers dreamily through the marrow of your bones, leaving you submerged in a haze of dizzy serenity, where time slows and the world takes on a muted hue around the fuzzed edges of your vision, condensating your eyes as you enjoy the deep thrusting inside you.

“Darlin’. Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groans. He can feel himself beginning to lose it, grunting and getting ready to fill you up.

You let go of his hands and slap them down on his chest, riding him ragged over the final hurdle; cunt tightening and pumping his cock.

He can just about bear it as your position means he’s gone that little bit further inside you still, and your walls are rubbing deliciously against him.

“Ah shee-it!” Jack curses out with a snarl pulled around his beautiful lips. “Gonna fill you up, sugar. You’re close now… I can feel it. Want you comin’ all over my cock as I fill you, okay?” He drawls in that thick, Kentucky squall.

Nodding, you go faster; twerking on his dick and feeling the build up inside you reach epic proportions - your own release imminent. You want this; crave this from him, as you let yourself let go.

“Come for me, Jack!”

“Fuck, yeah!”

He shudders against you, cursing out and biting his bottom lip as he begins exploding inside you. Veins in his neck twitching and bulging as he howls.

You slump forward onto him, kissing his wet, smooth chest delicately. The water finally comes to a still as you lay in the hot suds with him.

You combust around him; calling his name out over and over; your rocking takes on a slow and steady pace until its eventual stop as you both shiver and judder from the come down.

Your body tingles all over and legs feel like wobbly jelly.

“Fuck me...” Jack sighs contentedly, grabbing a hold of your ass and squeezing it gently between the wavy, foamy froth.

“I just did.” You titter and he chuckles.

“And then some.” He tilts your chin up to him and plants a lingering sensual kiss on your lips.

“Jesus Christ, I love you, darlin’.” He wraps you tightly in his drenched arms. “You n’ that lil' dill pickle in there.”

You smile contentedly. “We love you too, cowboy.”

A little while later, you’re both dressed in warm clothes by the fireplace, as Jack sips from a glass of honey coloured whiskey.

You’re both exchanging cosy, satisfied smiles as you both wrap the gifts in coordinated teamwork, that you’ve picked out together for the staff that work at the Ranch.

You crease the folds of the metallic paper, and he tears off the tape strips holding them out to you on a lone finger. He holds the ribbon in place, whilst you tie it into a bow over his digits.

He writes out the cards in a messy scrawl, whilst you place some food down in front of him, and he leans up to kiss you, patting and rubbing your tummy gently.

He lifts up the chunky knit of your sweater to reveal your soft, clean skin. You run your hands through his deep chocolate locks as he beams up at you.

“Happy Christmas, sugar.”

“Happy Christmas, Jack.”

You watch, smiling fondly, as he then runs his nose against your belly, inhaling the perfume of you, and you giggle at the tickle of his moustache.

Jack gazes up at you before pressing his soft, pursed lips below your belly button. A lingering little smooch sinking into the layers of your skin.

“Happy Christmas, lil' dill pickle.” Jack says.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey kingsman #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #christmas stories #jett's writing

281 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 8 months

Text

Edible Flowers {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of brothels and sex work, use of the word 'whore', general bad attitude, threats of violence, voyeurism, mentions of masturbation, SEX POLLEN, uncontrollable lust, rough sex, unprotected sex, dub-con due to sex pollen.

Comments: After losing his coins and unable to join the others in your party at the brothel, Pero decides to bathe with you in the local river. Both of you unaware that the flowers that line the banks of the river will make your blood sing with lust.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!!! I don't know where I would be without your friendship, Charlie. I love our conversations and our crazy thots. I hope you have the BEST day! 🎁🎊💝 I think it a tradition at this point that your birthday fic be sex pollen 😂

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You ignore the grumbled curses from the foul smelling man next to you. Angrily searching bags and shoving them off to the side. Rolling your eyes at his odious manner, his stench and his overall unpleasant demeanor. It wasn’t your fault that you two were the only ones left at camp. He had no coins to spend, having squandered them on the last village by getting drunk and misplacing them. You were still here with the horses because you had no interest in visiting the brothel.

“You should just go.” You huff, smirking in amusement at the thought. “Perhaps they will tumble you just because of your charming demeanor.”

“Quit talking before I decide to test how sharp my blade is.” Pero Tovar hisses angrily, his dark eyes narrowed in frustration and unhappiness at being left behind. No one, not even that bastard William, would lend him the coin to get his dick wet. After nearly two weeks of hard riding and no privacy to pleasure himself, he wants a release that is in a tight, warm cunt. Not the palm of his axe calloused hand.

“I’d remove your balls before you ever touched my tongue.” You snort, reminding him of your own quick use of a blade. The last man who had tested you had his body stripped and left for the buzzards when he had thought to try to force his will on you. You like to think the other men you rode with walked a little more carefully around you after that.

He grunts, unwilling or unable to come back with another retort and starts to dig through his bags once again. Searching in vain for the pouch of coins that would apparently get him away from you.

Your own search of your bags is much more organized, searching for the precious sliver of soap you still had and a clean set of clothes. The river is just past the little copse of trees and you have plans for a long soak and a good scrub in the cool, clean waters. It’s been a dusty, dirty road and you want to feel clean again. Or at least, not as filthy.

Finding the soap, you take it out and sigh softly, inhaling the scene of the flowers that had been pressed into it. It’s your last little cake that you had made, representing the last piece of yourself that you had left behind when you had started on this journey. Leaving home and traveling with this brash, rough, uncouth bunch of mercenaries.

They had decided that having a woman among them was a good thing. You were better for distractions, getting tavern owners to allow you to bunk under their roofs, sometimes using your ‘feminine wiles’ to get jobs when necessary. Tovar had been the only one to keep his distance and his surly attitude around you.

“Fuck.” The curse is accompanied by the saddle bag being thrown across the camp clearing, making you bite back a grin at the Spaniard’s ire. Pissed that he should have to stay back and not partake in the drinking and whoring.

“There it is.” You snatch your clean bandage out of the bag and tie it closed. “Perhaps you can mend your armor.” You offer, standing with your change of clothes and your soap. Your money pouch is with you, not trusting him to keep his fingers out of your coins to go off and have his pleasure. “I would not even suggest a bath. I know you have no use for such a thing.” You smirk, enjoying the darkness of his scowl and the muttered curses under his breath as he glares at you.

“Where are you going?” He demands, motioning towards the camp. “We need to start a fire.”

“I am going to bathe, you can start the fire.” You tell him, watching him shake his head. “No. You stay and help.” He spits. “I am not sitting by and doing all the chores.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I have made the fire every night for nearly two weeks.” You remind him. “I am not the camp whore. You want a fire? Start it.”

“Puta.” You glare at him when he calls you a bitch, but you don’t say anything, knowing it won’t do any good. Pero is not a man who claims to have manners. You’ve seen him fight with the locals over perceived insults or slights. Manners is not something that would ever cross his mind when it comes to his own actions.

Instead of spending time arguing with him, you simply walk out of the clearing with your things and make your way through the trees down to the edge of the river.

Pero growls again, glaring at your back as you walk away from him. Unsure why the fuck he lets you talk to him like that. Irritated that he had been left back, that his money was gone and he was unable to go find release in a hot cunt for a few coins.

Letting out a sigh, he rolls his head back, rubbing his shoulder and catching a whiff of himself. The acrid, sweaty scent of unwashed man makes him grimace and he hates to admit that you are right. He could do with a bath himself and cleaning his leathers. Sighing when he realizes that despite his best efforts, he would be doing what you wanted him to do.

It takes him a few moments before he smirks. You are down at the river. Naked. Washing. He grunts and despite himself, his cock twitches at the thought of seeing your body and stroking himself from the safety of the trees. Or perhaps he will outrage you by just diving into the water himself. He huffs a chuckle, imagining your glare and curses as you try to keep your eyes off him. You grumble and curse when any of the men pull their dick out to take a piss, you would hate it if he stripped down to the bare skin of his ass.

He lingers another moment, weighing his choices and blows out a huffed breath. Ambling slowly over to the bag he had thrown across the clearing towards the horses when he had been cursing his luck. Groaning slightly as he bends down to pick it up, he can’t help but think that a bath and a solid night of sleep might be better than a rowdy night in a brothel, drinking and whoring.

The waters are slow in this bend of the river, making it a good place to swim and wash. Maybe even catch some fresh fish if there is any. The village is nearly a quarter of a league away, the men preferring to keep their horses and belongings well away from the towns until they are ready to leave. Too many places would seek to steal from the mercenaries, as foolish as that might be.

It’s isolated here, no sign that anyone from the village ventures this way. Lucky for you, because the flowers blooming on the bank are sweet smelling and look edible, although you haven’t seen that variety before. There had been some rabbits eating them before you had scared them off. If you had your bow, you might have been having rabbit for dinner.

Now, you slowly peel off the clothes that are caked in dirt, sweat and blood. Groaning slightly when you start feeling light begins to give your muscles relief. Your breast band digs into your skin and you eagerly begin to unknot it so you can unwind it from your chest.

When it’s completely unwound, you groan again, reaching up and massaging your sore tits. Nipples aching as you slowly palm them. The feeling is incredible and it makes you close your eyes, missing the slight movement in the treeline to your left.

Pero’s eyes widen when he sees your tits. You’ve never even taken a piss in front of the men, preferring to go off behind a rock or some trees when the group has stopped. Now he’s unsure if the dark thatch of hair that covers your cunt is what is drawing his eyes or your hands roaming over your breasts like you are pleasuring yourself. The way you are groaning has his cock hardening like he is watching a show that some of the whores would use to make men pay more coin in the brothels. His mouth waters and he reaches for the laces of his breeches, eager to pull his cock out and stroke it until he spills on the ground.

Until he sees you turn around and carefully make your way into the water. Your ass swaying invitingly as you wade into the water and he watches you dunk your head under the water. It looks too refreshing to pass up and he wants to join you. He does need to wash.

The water is perfect, cool and clean, making your nipples harden even more and you lean back to float on the water for a moment. Relaxing and sighing at the way you already feel better, feel cleaner just by dunking yourself in the river. Once you scrub your clothes and body with the soap, you will feel positively luxurious. The only thing that could possibly feel even better would be to sink into a feather mattress to sleep.

The water surrounding you muffles the sounds from on shore. Your eyes closed keeping you from seeing the other mercenary strip down to his skin and start to wade into the water. His eyes on you as he manages to cover his already hard cock with water to his chest before you notice the movement beside you.

When your eyes open, they are wide, wrenched open from the slight shift of the water around you. Finding the dark eyes of the Spaniard fixed on you, making you shoot up, your feet slipping for a moment before finding your footing on the rocks and burying your body up to your neck in the water.

“What the hell are you doing!?” You shout, thankful that his own body is halfway underwater. You don’t know if you wanted to see how well endowed the man is. It wouldn’t help things and you are already trying to tear your gaze away from the muscle and scars that adorn his chest. Evidence from previous battles that show how he has survived. Your hands cover your breasts under the water and you quickly move away from him.

“Bathing.” Pero hisses back, rolling his eyes at you and smirking. Your mouth had dropped open like a fish and he enjoys the shock. Even if he had wanted to cum before he entered the water, he likes that you are surprised by his presence. “What are you doing?”

The fact that he plucks your soap off the nearby rock and starts to lather up his hands with it should make you take it back, but you find yourself just staring. Watching as he doesn’t move towards you, just sets the soap down and does exactly what he said he was doing. Bathing. His hands sliding over his skin and soaping himself up generously. Scrubbing the soap into his shorn off beard and into his hair. He had apparently hacked it off before coming into the water.

“I didn’t mean bathe with me.” You hiss, still submerged in the water. “How long have you been watching me?”

Pero smirks and arches his eyebrow at you. “You mean did I see where you like touching your tits?” He asks. “I did. You should unbind them more.”

Cursing under your breath, you huff and shoot him a killing glare. “Keep your eyes off my tits.” You mutter, but that only makes the Spaniard chuckle as he continues to scrub his body clean.

“Every woman has tits, yours aren’t special.” He lies knowing that he had been hard as a rock as he looked at them. Thought about sucking on them. You don’t know that, and his hard cock is under the water, out of sight.

Snorting angrily at his insult, you snatch the soap off the rock where he had returned it so you can bathe. Your relaxation is ruined by his presence and the last thing you want is to give him any more of an eyeful. He can stay here and you will leave.

Washing quickly, you scrub your clothes, painfully aware of his presence as he splashes and curses behind you. Trying to ignore him while you wring your clothes out and lay them on the stones to dry. Hating that you would have to expose yourself again to get out of the river and dress.

“I’m not looking.” Pero taunts, fully aware that he is watching you struggle to make a decision. The glimpses of your breasts and ass as you work have kept him hard and his hand squeezes his cock under the water.

Not looking back at him, you roll your eyes and stand up, walking out of the water to your pile of clean clothes. Rushing to put on your shirt, you don’t bother with a breast band, happy that the longer, larger shirt covers your ass as you wiggle into your breeches. “You may want to wash again.” You snort, turning to look at him still in the water. “I can still smell you.”

His eyes narrow and his mouth spits out another curse, but when you disappear into the trees to go back to the horses, Pero lifts his arm and sniffs. Wondering if you can smell him still, although all he can smell is the pretty soap you had. He grumbles to himself and starts to wash his own clothes.

****

By the time Pero returns, clothes damp and squeaky clean, you’ve started the fire and have cleaned out your bag that you use to gather berries. “The flowers next to the river are edible.” You tell him. “I’m going to get some. If you want to eat, come with me.” Already annoyed he hadn’t started a fire before bothering you, the last thing you are going to do is feed him.

You don’t want to see what he will say, just turning and stomping back to the water’s edge. In hindsight, perhaps you should have given him the coin to go with the other men. If only to keep him from annoying you. Finding his presence far more distracting than normal, when William is around to keep him occupied.

You ignore his grumbled curses as he follows you. Your stomach starts to growl and you know that there are plenty of the tender flowers to eat now and then save for later if you can gather enough. You’ve learned that despite the number of men in your party, foraging for food was often more successful for hunting. A few of the men were incapable of hunting silently without scaring off all the small game.

The small, pink flowers are pretty. The red pollen in the middle is eye-catching and you find yourself wondering why there are so many of them blooming at once despite watching numerous creatures feast on the tender buds. Reaching out, you pluck one flower from the stem and pop it into your mouth. Groaning quietly at the almost honey-like taste of it. Immediately picking another one to eat.

There are hundreds of them. Quickly starting to pick them in earnest. One for the bag, one for you to eat. Groaning everytime you let the flavor of the flower burst on your tongue. The taller Spaniard moves to the bush next to you and does the same, his own mouth shoved full of the edible flowers. Eating them as fast as he can. They are almost addictive.

It’s gradual. The way your body warms up and starts to tingle. Your skin is suddenly more sensitive than it normally is by the breeze coming off the water. Making gooseflesh rise and you shiver slightly.

Tovar grunts beside you, shifting and clearing his throat. Making you think that he had just swallowed wrong since he eats like an animal. Continuing to pick and eat the flowers until you feel like your stomach is going to burst from the local vegetation.

It’s only then that you realize how warm you are. Pulling your shirt away from your neck and humming quietly. Needing to almost take off your shirt as your nipples harden underneath the fabric. “Ohhhh.” You bite your lip and turn away from the bushes as you realize that you are feeling a certain kind of way.

You’re turned on. Stumbling back towards camp, you can feel the arousal starting pool between your thighs and you feel your cunt bottom out at the grunts of the man following you. “What the fuck is going on?” You choke out, dropping the bag onto the ground as you wrap your hands around your stomach.

Tovar nearly stumbles to his knees behind you, his cock harder than it has ever been in his life and he swears he need to pull his cock out and fuck his fist. “I- it burns.” He rasps, squeezing his eyes closed and ignores the soft whimpering sounds that are coming from you. Trying to suck in enough air to calm his racing blood.

“I don’t-” You moan again, making the mercenary to your left growl as you rush over to your saddle bags. “It- what is happening?” All you know is that you need to touch yourself. The need to find release building up like an infection under your skin. Your clit throbbing with every pounding beat of your heart. “I don’t fucking know.” Pero spits, dropping to his knees and his palm presses against his cock with a moan. “I need to cum.” He growls.

The raspy, rough sound of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and you feel your entire body light up at the thought of a thick, hard cock inside your aching cunt. Your broken whimper nearly a gasp. So close to giving in and begging Pero Tovar to touch you.

“Give me your coins.” Your eyes fly open at his demand, finding him dragging himself to his feet and lurching towards you like a drunkard. Eyes pitch black with need and lust as he comes closer.

“What?” You shake your head. “No. You are- you aren’t fucking a whore with my coins.” You hiss, making the man moan when you curse.

You don’t understand how desperate he is. Fumbling with his belt he tosses it away and reaches for the laces of his breeches. “I am begging you, hermosa.” He groans. “I need- fuck, I need to bury myself in a cunt.”

It’s your turn to moan, watching in surprise as the grumpy, harsh, uncouth man in front of you starts to unlace his breeches to pull his cock out. “This is- this is madness.” You whine, your own fingers starting to unlace your own pants. The thought of him fucking you is now buried in your head and it’s all you can think of. Him fucking you until the pain and need fade.

“Give me-” Pero chokes out another moan when his fingers wrap around his cock to pull it free. Unable to stop from stroking it aggressively, even though his palm is dry. “Please.” He begs, knowing that the need is overriding his good sense.

You never thought you would ever hear Pero Tovar beg for anything. Not even death when he was staring it down. Now he is begging for release and your own body reacts visceral to that plea. Your own breeches unlaced when you look up to see his cock in his hand as he pumps it furiously. Eyes closed and mouth opened on a moan as he tries to slack his lust. Your cunt gushes, bottoming out at the sight and you are pushing your breeches down in a rush as you try to kick off your boots at the same time. “Fuck me.” You demand, voice breaking as you stand on bedroll.

He’s dreaming. He’s in the middle of a fantasy because he swears he hears you beg him to fuck you. Knowing that would never happen, he opens his eyes and chokes out a sound when he sees you pulling your shirt over your head and standing naked in front of him. “Her-”

“Fuck me.” You beg again, dropping down to the blankets and spreading your legs. “I need it. I feel like I’m going to burn alive if you don’t fuck me.” Your arousal is coating your thighs and dripping down onto the rough blankets. Fingers already between your thighs to start rubbing your clit. Giving into your own body’s desires.

“Mother of God.” Pero curses, rushing forward and dropping to his knees between your thighs. Hand still wrapped around his cock and pumping it as he notches himself at your cunt. There’s no time to be gentle. Merely snapping his hips forward and burying his cock into with hot walls of your cunt with the loudest groan he’s ever made.

Air is pushed from your lung, giving you no time to think, to scream, as his thick length breaks you apart as he pushes inside you. Splitting you in two is an almost painful pleasure that has your nails digging into his arms and your body bucking under his. Needing more, you sob in relief when he feels the same way and starts to move immediately.

Your cunt is hot, tight around his cock. Making him grit his teeth together and bunch the blankets in his fists so he doesn’t leave bruises under your skin as he holds onto you. His hips slam forward, a rough little growl tearing out of his throat every time he reburies his length inside you.

Moaning, your nails start to rake down his back. At first it’s over the shirt he is still wearing as he fucks into you. His pants at his knees, still dressed while you are completely naked underneath him. Then your hands slide under his shirt, needing to feel his hot skin as you moan again. His cock hits deep, every thrust filling you perfectly.

Hissing, Pero grunts out a curse. “Shit.” He bites his lip and his next thrust is even rougher, pushing you up the blanket slightly. Your legs squeeze around his hips and you lift your body up to let him pound you back into the ground.

It’s overwhelming and still not enough. Every time his cock scrapes against your walls, it makes your body light up in pleasure, the pain and heat subsiding for a brief moment. Making you crave more every time the sensation comes back.

Your nails dig into his back but he doesn’t even pay attention. Too focused on the hot clutch of your cunt and how every time he rocks into you, those walls squeeze him like a vice. Groaning out curses in every language he knows, Pero feels like his entire body is being heated from the inside. “I- I’m gonna cum.” He chokes out, knowing that he won’t last more than a few thrusts.

You are right there with him, your body bowing and arching with every stroke of his cock deep within you. Pushing you closer to the edge and your eyes squeeze shut. “P-Pero-ooooo” Your back arches up, cunt locking down on his cock as your scream of pleasure rings out in the trees, making the horses startle and stamp.

Once you tighten around him, Pero is gone. Groaning out your name as he rocks forward one more time, staying just as deep as he can possibly get, relief and pleasure mixing together as he paints your walls with his seed.

You pant, trying to catch your breath even though the pain is still there, just beneath the surface. Able to relax for just a moment as your eyes close. Listening to Pero grunt as he works himself through his own pleasure and collapses on top of you.

“I-” he groans as he twitches. “Let me get my breath and I will fuck you again.” He promises, knowing that if he is still hard, you must also be feeling the effects of whatever has possessed the two of you.

“You better, Tovar.” You moan, squeezing him again as you bear down on him. Grinning when he curses again. “Mierda.”

“What the fuck is causing this?” He asks breathlessly.

“I don’t know.” You admit. “Maybe it’s- maybe it’s the flowers.”

He snorts, doubting that but he doesn’t argue with you. Knowing that whatever it is, it will have to work itself out of your system. At least this is more pleasurable than bad stew.

“More Pero.” You beg softly, starting to move under him again as the heat begins to build again in your core. His cock is still hard and you need that feeling again.

“Greedy.” He chuckles, looking down at you with dark eyes and for the first time he leans in to press his lips to yours, kissing you as he slowly starts to rock into you again.

Gasping in surprise, you cling to him, kissing him back as you stare up at him as you kiss. Wondering why his lips are so much softer than they had looked and his kiss is much gentler than you had expected. Not that you had expected him to kiss you at all.

Now that the first, brightest pain has passed, he can afford to be tender. To take a moment to make sure that there is more than just raw power in his thrusts. “I’ll give you more.” He promises. “I’ll give you everything you need, hermosa.”

****

The fire burns low, feet shuffling in the grass as men crowd around the sleeping pair on the ground. None of them believe that the Spaniard is wrapped around you, both of you obviously naked under the blankets. Your clothes are scattered on the ground around you.

“Do you think he fucked her?” The whispered question reaches William as he smirks down at his friend. Resisting the urge to poke him with his boot and wake the man from the obviously deep sleep.

“What do you think?” William turns his head and looks back at the other men.

“I think if you wake her, I will cut your tongues out.” Pero doesn’t even open his eyes as he growls his threat to the other men. Tugging you closer when you shift in your sleep until you relax against him. Your breathing evening out and slowing down again as you settle back into your dreamless sleep. Worn out from the multiple rounds you and Pero had the night before while the pollen from those flowers worked out of your bodies.

William grins, motioning for the others to quietly back away. “We’ll let them sleep a little longer.” He hums quietly. “Let's go down to the river and wash up.”

Pero grunts, knowing that he should warn them, but he’s not going to. The bastards left him here and he had to find out the hard way to stay away from the flowers. They could learn their own lessons. Smirking to himself as he presses his face into the back of your neck and inhales the scent of you. Maybe losing his coins wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he would warn William.

“Amigo…..”

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar the great wall #tovar #tovar x reader #tovar x you #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar imagine #tovar fanfiction #tovar the great wall

340 notes · View notes

cowboydisaster · 5 months

Note

For the Christmas countdown!

Dutch sends reader and Arthur to find the perfect Christmas tree for camp. Reader says she knows a place near Colter. But they get lost, and what’s that? One bed? Needing to share body warmth? What ever could go wrong 😈😈 as smutty as you find comfortable to write behe

* ˚ ✦ Ceasefire * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 2.8k a/n: One bed trope is elite. love this prompt. Arthur is a little toxic in this one ngl. probably med. honor. I aint gonna lie gang, this is fucking FILTH. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, dubcon

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: FOUR days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur kicks the old door in, nearly crumbling the rotten thing before sticking his lantern into the worn down cabin. No words are exchanged as he ushers you though the threshold, slamming the door behind you both.

The storm outside is brutal, battering the sides of the cabin, sounding like bullets pelting the walls. Hail and snow beat down on the roof, carried by whipping, whistling winds. Even in your wool coat, your limbs feel like ice, your fingers and toes numb.

The cabin you’re entering is old and creaky. The wind seems to whisper through the walls eerily, letting cold air soak through the cracks and wrap around you. You shiver, walking through the main room, pushing open a squealing door to reveal one small bedroom with one tiny bed. You nod, figuring as much. It’s the only door in the house, so you avert your attention back towards Arthur, knelt before the fireplace. He's digging through the wood by the mantle, grunting and sighing angrily to himself. A tense silence continues between you and Arthur– it hangs in the air like static electricity, and you’re just waiting for it to strike.

“Arthur, I'm sorry.” You whisper, arms pulling your coat tighter around yourself.

“Kinda late for apologizin’, considerin’ our circumstances, dont’cha think?” Arthur growls, finding a few pieces of dry wood and tossing them into the wood keeper in the fireplace.

“I knew where I was goin.” You argue coldly, anger rising up the back of your neck, making the hair stand. Arthur shakes his head, avoiding your eye contact as he lights a kindle.

“Oh, you did, did you? Then you mind tellin’ me why in the hell we’re stranded in the middle of god-knows-where, then? N’ on Christmas Eve? Dutch sent us to get a goddamn tree and thanks to you, we ain't even got one.” Arthur growls, voice finally rising, even though he’s been trying to keep his composure since you admitted you were lost.

“I– Well you got me all turned around when you took us to the trapper!” You yell, pointing your finger at him angrily, “I had us on the way and then you just had to take us off on some wild fuckin’ goose chase. What even was so important that we had to take an hour-long detour anyway?! How are you gonna blame me when you had to drag me across the state just to what?! Sell a fuckin’ pelt? Make some more money for old Dutch?”

“No!” Arthur roars, standing up from his position on the floor. His anger flares up at your ignorance, “I was savin’ up money to buy your christmas gift—to buy you that goddamn saddle you wanted!!” Arthur’s voice reaches a shockingly loud timbre, and your ears ring. You step back, shocked and mortified by your assumption. Words fail you, and you stutter over them, tears already forming in your eyes at what you’ve done.

“Arthur…” You say, tears forming in your eyes as he brushes past you, towards the door, “Arthur, you can’t go out in that storm.” You protest, but he’s already putting his gloves back on, placing his hat on his head.

“Arthur, I'm sorry. Please don’t go out in the storm.” You plead as he pushes the door open.

“I need some damn air.” He hisses, slamming the door back shut in your face.

Your hand covers your mouth, silencing sobs as you watch him leave from the window. You hear Sugar’s cries as Arthur leads Jasper out of the small stable, and you watch as the gray horse carries Arthur out the main drag, his coat blending in with the downpour of snow and ice.

— — —

You roll onto your side, shivering on the single cot. There’s no blankets, so you do your best to keep warm by curling in on yourself and blowing warm air into your hands, down your coat sleeves. Cold tears slip down your face, your worry growing tenfold with every minute that Arthur doesn’t return. If he’s not back within the hour, you’ll go out into the storm to find him.

You glance at the pocket watch that is clutched between your numb fingers, signaling that he’s been gone for an hour and a half. Your heart seizes in your chest. The wind causes the windows to shake and clamber, and every once in a while, you perk up– hoping it’s Arthur coming back to you. But it never is.

A miserable whimper leaves your lips, and you sit up, cross legged on the bed to steal another glance at your watch. The fireplace gives off just enough light to see, and you push yourself up from the bed to start pulling your boots on. You’ll be damned before you let something happen to Arthur out there, not when it's your fault he’s out there in the first place.

Before you can get your boot on, the door swings open loudly. Arthur steps in, shoving the door shut behind him, stripping his big blue coat off and abandoning it on the floor. You let out a breath of relief, tossing your boots aside to run to him.

“Baby- I’m so sorry for hollerin’ at you. I shouldn’t have left ya here.” Arthur rambles, feeling like a fucking fool. You care none, too relieved to see him here. He holds his arm open, catching you just as you run into them, tears of relief flooding your face.

“Oh, I was so worried, Arthur.” You exhale, crumbling against him.. Lucky for you, he’s always been good at piecing you back together.

“Christ, darlin’, you’re freezin’.” Arthur points out, readjusting and scooping you up into his arms. You lie your head against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him, as he carries you back into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have blamed you.” Your voice cracks.

“Don’t matter, now. Now, I just gotta take care of you.” Arthur whispers, and you sigh with relief. He carries you into the bedroom, tenderly placing you down on the bed.

“Lets get your clothes off. They’re wet, gonna get you sick.” Arthur says, worry deep in his eyes as he begins to undress you. He tenderly peels away each layer of clothing, hanging them over the fireplace mantle to dry. Once you’re bared before him, shivering, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm and dry, and it smells like oak and his favorite brand of expensive cigarettes. You inhale the scent deeply.

“Be warmer if I take mine off, too.” He whispers matter of factly, pulling off his own layers, sliding next to you in the bed.

Arthur winces as you cling to him on the bed. Your limbs are like ice against his skin, and he pulls your back to his chest. His arm wraps around your middle, keeping you anchored to him tightly. Your body fits against Arthur’s so perfectly. Like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

A few moments pass by, with Arthur running his fingers over your hip, rubbing his hand down your thigh, waiting for the skin to warm up.

“Any better?” He asks eventually, voice hoarse, waiting for the answer he knows won’t come. You nod your head, but your teeth chatter. You're shaking like a leaf against him.

“Ya trust me?” Arthur asks. Of course, you nod your head. You trust him with your life, “I’ll warm you up.” He whispers.

You shiver, this time not from the temperature as Arthur slides the jacket down over your shoulder blade. He runs his lips across your shoulder, pressing kisses in a line. His lips distract you from his wandering hand, fingertips trailing down your stomach.

You breathe shakily in anticipation as his fingers reach your throbbing cunt. His skin is hot where yours is cold, adding an extra layer of sensitivity. You flinch when his thick finger bumps your sensitive clit.

“Too much?” Arthur whispers between kisses, his hand drawing away from your skin. You nod.

“We got all the time in the world. Jus’ gotta warm you up proper.” Arthur explains. He repositions himself between your legs, pushing your knees up by your ears, spreading you wide for himself.

“Can’t wait to taste you.” Arthur grumbles, pushing your thighs back even more. You grip the sheets in anticipation as he licks the length of your cunt, coating his tongue in your juices, flicking your sensitive bud with his tongue.

Your stomach seizes, and you whimper.

“Yeah, how’s that? Talk to me, darlin’.” Arthur instructs, his nose rubbing against your clit, his tongue sinking into your heat. Arthur’s beard is tickling your thighs, and his fingertips are teasing along your entrance.

“S’good, Arthur.” You exhale loudly. Your body is already warming up. Your skin is flush with want as he teases you. Arthur’s tongue circles back up to your clitoris, flicking over the bud in languid swipes. You taste so fucking good, he could keep you spread like this forever and never get enough. You would have no qualms with that, happily holding his head between your thighs for the rest of eternity.

He wants nothing more than to keep you spread open like this. To taste you, kiss you. To hear you whimpering and calling his name. He wants to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, until you’re sleepy and content and sore. He wants to press his cock into you over and over again, to roll his hips into you, stretch you out, fill you up. He wants to watch his cum leak out of you, just to fuck it back inside.

Arthur’s cock twitches, and he groans, slipping two of his fingers into your aching entrance. Feeling how slick they become when he pulls them out, when he pushes them back in, curling them to hit that spot that makes you sing.

“Arthur–” You moan, back arching off the bed. He wraps his free hand over your stomach, pushing you back down to the mattress, “So good. I– Oh, so fuckin’ good, Arthur.”

He smirks, tongue still flicking over your pink, swollen clit. Sucking it between his lips, grazing it with his teeth. It’s more than you can take.

His fingers curl up, squelching as they rock your own juices back into you, brushing up against your fleshy g-spot, teasing it.

“I-” You gasp, “I’m close, Arthur. I- I can’t it’s too much! Too-” You moan, tears of pleasure slipping down your cheek.

And like the pull of a silk ribbon, he's pulling you undone. You're cumming on his fingers, squeezing them within your tight walls. Your clit is seizing against his tongue as you cry out his name, hands digging into his hair, pushing him further against you. You rock your hips against his face, thighs squeezing his ears. Juices gush around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm. Euphoria wracks your brain, picking you up and carrying you to another plane of existence.

When you come down from it, you’re putty in his arms. Limp.

“Easy, baby. Y’okay?” Arthur asks, hand easing up your waist, purposefully avoiding the spots where you’ll be the most sensitive right now. You nod, hands reaching up to his jaw, gripping him and pulling him down towards you.

“Wanna kiss you.” You manage to murmur, soft as silk before his lips are meeting yours.

You can taste yourself dripping from his tongue. Can feel the sticky wetness on his beard as you pull him impossibly closer. His tongue slips into your mouth, infiltrating your senses with the sweet taste of your arousal.

Goosebumps break out across your stomach as Arthur’s knuckles trail up your waist, his thumb tickling a small circle around your stiff, sensitive nipple. It sends pleasure in shockwaves down through you, and you arch your back, pushing your stomach up against his chest. The hair on his chest teases your flushed skin, adding to the pleasure of it all.

“So goddamn beautiful.” Arthur mumbles, pulling away just to get the words out before he’s against your lips again, devouring you.

“Think you can take me now, darlin?” Arthur whispers, lips moving to your jaw, pressing loud kisses along the sharp line. You hesitate. He’s so big. It takes a lot of preparation.

He senses your worry, and then he’s there, reassuring you, praising you, making you feel so good.

“You can take me.” A kiss to your neck, “You do so good, so perfect. You can take it. My good girl.” Arthur mumbles against your skin, hand slipping between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His fingers slip back into your cunt, first two, then three. You whimper, hands digging into Arthur’s shoulders.

“See? Takin’ my fingers as ya are. My good girl, aint’cha?”

You nod your head, teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “Yes, yes.” You whisper, breathing shakily.

Arthur positions himself over you, slipping his fingers away, and you gasp at the feeling of his thick tip sliding up and down your lower lips. He traces his swollen, rosy tip across your overstimulated clitoris, and your nails dig into his shoulders, a pulse of pleasure rippling up your spine, sending waves down through your bones.

You pay no mind to the weather, to the temperature. It bothers you none now.

His thick, pulsing cock nudges against your entrance, and instinctually you tense, taking in a sharp breath.

“Shh, shh, easy, sweetheart. Relax. You can take it.” Arthur coos against your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's like being swaddled in a heap of comfort, of safety. You know he’d never lie to you, never hurt you.

“Thata girl.” Arthur hums, grunting deeply as he thrusts just the tip into you. You squeeze him tightly, your walls gripping him, pulling him into you. He could do this all day, stretch you open, stuff his cock into your pretty little cunt, press kisses to your lips and your neck and your nose.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it.” He grunts, pushing himself into you even more. Your back arches, stomach filled with pressure and legs spread open wide, “That’s perfect, so good fr’me.” He moans.

“God, Arthur–” You cry out, a whimpering mess when he starts to rock. He’s splitting you in two, filling you so full, you can barely take him all. His length knocks against your g-spot, surpassing it even and stretching to your cervix.

“Feel-” Arthur groans, “Good?”

You tuck your nose against his chest, nodding, “Fuck, so good, Arthur. You’re so big.”

The boost in his ego ramps up his stamina, and he rocks into you harder, sending the headboard crashing against the wall loudly with every thrust. The rhythm is barely noticeable compared to the sound of the hail beating against the roof.

You’re suddenly glad to be stuck out here, if this is the repercussion. You crave his hands on you, his lips against yours. You want him to bend you over the table, take you against the wall, on the floor. You’re content to have him on every surface of this cabin, just to stay wrapped up in this bliss for a little while longer.

“Easy does it, good girl.” Arthur grunts, face covered in a sheen of sweat, dripping down from a strand of his hair, falling onto your breasts. He fills you with every thrust, his cock carving out the shape of your walls, stretching them to wrap around him perfectly. The signature, wet sound of sex fills the room, drowning out even the storm, yet pale compared to the sound of your mixed moans and breathing.

“M’ close-” Arthur grunts, pace growing quick, cock twitching against your walls. You’re getting close, and he’s there too, grunting and squeezing, gripping your soft flesh. He curses, thrusting hard and deep, hips slapping loudly against yours.

It pushes you over the cliff edge with no abandon, and again, you’re free falling, only kept here by the physical tether that is Arthur holding you. Your walls clench and squeeze, constricting around Arthur’s length. He groans beautifully, the sound cathartic to your ears, sending more blood rushing to your gluttonous core.

“Oh– Arthur!” You scream, gasping for air just to release it all back out in a slew of curses and moans. Your back arches high enough off the bed that your breasts slot against Arthur’s chest. Your body shakes, like a star on the verge of explosion, receiving no mercy as Arthur continues to thrust into you. He’s losing his control, caught off guard by the pulsing and fluttering of your second orgasm. You’re squeezing him so tight, and god– the moans you’re letting out are driving him wild—

And then, his warm, thick cum is flooding you, filling you up as he stutters and shakes above you, “F-Fucck, sweetheart. Takin’ me– so damn well.” Arthur groans, hips pumping into you twice more, arms shaking from strain. He pumps the last of his spend into you, groan dying down into a deep rumble in his chest.

He stills, taking deep breaths along with you, eyes slipping shut. His forehead falls against yours, and he presses a sweet, long kiss to your lips. It sends butterflies to your stomach, even after all this. He pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours once again.

“That was–” You begin, catching your breath, “damn.”

Arthur chuckles, “We’ll sleep the rest of the night n’ check out the weather in the mornin’. I don't reckon either of us will be cold.”

You huff a laugh, wincing slightly as Arthur pulls out of you. You grimace as his cum leaks back out.

In a few short moments, Arthur has you clean of him. He lies beside you, head resting on your lower stomach as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“Next time we fight, just skip the runnin’ off, and take me to bed, alright?” You whisper, breaking the calm silence. Arthur exhales sharply.

“Yeah, we’ll do that.” He chuckles, gripping your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“You think Dutch will be pissed about the tree?” You ask, referencing the Christmas tree that you’d failed to bring back to camp.

“He surely will be.” Arthur says, “But, I say-” He presses a kiss to your hip, hand wrapping around the inside of your thigh, “to hell with his christmas traditions,” another kiss, “I like this one better.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

#cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic

302 notes · View notes

nevernonline · 6 months

Text

✧.* ninety minute movies; svt one shot series.

sneak peek: I am a religious watcher and lover of the iconic rom-com films from the 80's through the y2k era, so these are stories inspired by some of my favorites. xo.

titles in orange are finished products.

titles in black are in the works.

must love dogs; seungcheol x reader.

synopsis: after a breakup (three years ago) your friend finally attempts to get you back on the saddle by creating you a dating profile despite your protesting, hooking you up on dates with some of the eligible bachelors of their choice, none of which impressed you. until one day you met the boy with the dog.

prince diaries; jeonghan x reader.

synopsis: when your best friend comes back from a visit to his families home with a new revelation topped off with a crown and a title, you are tasked with helping him become his new royal self.

begin; joshua x reader

synopsis: you and your talented partner get an opportunity to sign under a famed record label, the catch is they only want you.

monster of the bride; junhui x reader

synopsis: getting married was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but its turning out to be the worst due to your mother scheming against your fiancé.

twenty-seven?; soonyoung x reader.

synopsis: you always wanted to be considered a 'serious' journalist, but to get the chance at moving up the ranks and getting to produce your own stories, you're get an idea to do one final story to impress your boss that's where inspiration strikes with the one and only soonyoung.

something borrowed; wonwoo x reader

synopsis: planning events for your best friends wedding should be fun, until your old feelings for her fiancé resurface

your place?; jihoon x reader

synopsis: after one fail of a hookup ten years ago, you gained a best friend in Jihoon. Once your vacation plans go awry you're left with one option only, to spend the rest of your time living under the same roof as that very same friend.

he’s all that; dokyeom x reader

synopsis:every year the kappa sorority hosted a ‘hot or not’ greek life pageant show. you’ve luckily escaped having to bring your own “nottie” to give a makeover to and train in hopes of winning a big prize for the rest of your crew. but, just when you thought your lucky streak was going strong your name get’s chosen as a representative and your sisters had just the guy for you to make over.

what's your number?; mingyu x reader

synposis: after finding an online article about the number of sexual partners a woman should have, your day with your neighbor turns into him being lucky number eighteen.

how to lose the guy; minghao x reader.

synopsis: when your sister bet's that you couldn't find a date to her wedding in under ten days, you had to take the bait. the only catch was that she gets to choose who the guy is.

holidates; seungkwan x reader

synopsis: fearful of spending yet another new years eve alone, your friend proposes you seek a perfect date in him.

he's not into you; vernon x reader

synopsis: curious what the problem is in your dating life where you just can't seem to get guys to commit fully to you beyond a second date, your work associate offers his help.

little black book; chan x reader.

synopsis: while your boyfriend is out of town on a work trip, you decide to search through his things just out of curiosity, when you find a small black journal ranking and listing his past relationships.

#pls ignore just updating my blog lmao #svt masterlist

163 notes · View notes

wizardofrozz · 6 months

Note

I don't think I submitted an ask to you yet lol so: for the first kiss prompts,

the hands. on the waist. oh my god. with Fox!! ❤️

Above Coruscant

Commander Fox x reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive actions, groping, and mention of war. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Well this got away from me but I really shouldn't be surprised...its Fox after all 😂 pretty sure I'm going to write smut that follows this because I can't contain myself when it comes to Fox lmao. Also, if you're a Republic Commando fan, there's a tiny (just a mention) cameo for all of you 👀

The landing pad was empty, Coruscant’s faint breeze ruffling your hair as you leaned against the railing. You occasionally glanced down at the dots of people moving around below, only paying half a mind to the message you were typing. With a soft sigh, you send the message to Captain Obrim, tucking your datapad away and turning to lean back against the railing.

Your job with the Coruscant Security Force put you in some interesting situations over the years but the start of the Clone Wars had ramped up your workload, especially when Jaller had offered you a spot in his Anti-Terrorism unit. The job also came with some new coworkers in the form of the Coruscant Guard, specifically the four commanders. It took some time, but slowly you started to get to know each of the commanders despite coordinating with Commander Fox the most.

He could be...stiff at times. You didn’t like to use cold because after watching him interact with his men, he was anything but. However, the more time you spent around him seemed to have him warming up to you. Now, if only that didn’t make your stupid little crush on him worse.

You felt like a teenager again, getting giddy when you knew you’d see him but the worst part was that he seemed to return the feelings. His smile softened a bit when he looked at you, he stood just a little too close and brought you caf just the way you liked it when you spent hours debriefing the Guard. Sometimes, he’d even flirt with you, just enough to make your stomach somersault. But then it would stop abruptly.

Fox held back, pulling away when you tried to meet him halfway and it would’ve hurt if you didn’t see the emotion reflected in his expression every time.

The thump of footsteps forced your mind back to the present and Maker, did you wish you could’ve stayed oblivious. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as you scanned from his heavy boots upward. You’d never seen Fox in anything but crimson armor and you hated that this outfit was doing something for you.

It was a simple outfit, just plain brown pants, a black shirt, and a black jacket but there was something oddly alluring about seeing him look so...normal. You swallowed around the lump in your throat and stood straighter as he approached, absently brushing a stubborn curl off his forehead. Butterflies fluttered around your stomach when you noticed that his cheeks were a little rosey and it occurred to you that he probably caught you checking him out.

“Commander,” you greeted, praying your voice didn’t sound as breathless as you felt. A small, unconscious smile lifted the corner of his mouth and it made your face feel too hot.

“Startin’ to think I’m late,” he huffed, glancing at the speeder parked nearby.

“Nah, I wasn’t far,” you replied with a shrug, wandering closer to the speeder, prompting him to follow. You grabbed the spare helmet off the back and tossed it to Fox, smirking when he almost fumbled to catch it. Fox’s brows knitted together as he stared down at the modified Ubese helmet. When his eyes lifted again you shrugged, moving to take it from him.

“You don’t have to wear it immediately but when we get to the club you’ll have to put it on,” you explained, tucking the helmet into one of the bike’s saddle bags.

“Will I be able to breathe in it?” Fox eyed the helmet apprehensively, leaning over to look into the saddle bag.

“No, Fox, I’m gonna let you suffocate,” you huffed, arching a brow. “It’s modified so you’ll be able to breathe but it also acts as a good excuse for why you can’t take it off.” Fox hummed, resting his hands on his hips and looking at you through his lashes.

“Alright,” he mumbled, his eyes following the length of the speeder. There was a hint of color high on his cheeks when he glanced in your direction again. “We’re sharing, huh?”

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug. But there was a small part of you that hoped he really didn’t mind. His eyes lingered on your face for a moment before he bent down to grab one of the riding helmets you’d managed to find. Fox tossed the helmet so it twisted around before he caught it again, slipping it over his head with ease. The visor was still up when his gaze drifted back to you, allowing you to see the way his eyes wrinkled as he smirked.

Yeah, you had definitely been staring.

You quickly pulled your helmet on, trying not to watch as Fox climbed onto the bike, scooting forward to leave room for you. You almost wondered if Jaller purposefully didn’t find a second speeder. Fox tensed slightly when your hand gripped his shoulder, using it to steady yourself as you climbed on. His head turned, watching you from the corner of his eye as you settled in behind him.

Logically, you knew there was only one way to keep yourself safely on the bike but now that you were faced with the reality of it, your face burned. You moved slowly, wrapping your arms around his waist and your mouth felt too dry at the heat simmering in his dark eyes. You pulled in a slow, calming breath and shifted to get comfortable. Your exhale was cut off with a yelp when two large hands wrapped around your wrist, pulling you tighter against Fox’s back. His voice was muffled behind the helmet but the mischief twinkling in his eyes told you he knew what he was doing.

“Don’t wantcha fallin’ off.” You rolled your eyes, thankful he couldn’t see the small smile on your face, and tightened your arms around his torso. Fox glanced over his shoulder one last time with a wink before snapping the visor of his helmet down. The speeder’s engine roared as Fox twisted the throttle, the speeder shooting forward and you instinctively squeezed his torso. Shithead.

Skyscrapers whizzed by as Fox sped up, merging into the nearest skylane. It was going to be a long ride to the club you were supposed to infiltrate and usually, it wouldn’t bother you. However, Fox was never involved in any of the other long trips you’d been on. The slow, even movement of his chest under your hands was oddly distracting and you shifted your hands toward his waist. You tried to let your mind wander but every minute shift of the man in front of you made it nearly impossible.

You shifted back slightly, suddenly aware of how your legs framed his, your mind conjuring up a few of the dreams that had you waking up blushing. Fox settled into the seat, sitting up a bit straighter, and the movement forced your hands a bit lower. His stomach was warm and solid, your fingers itching to trace the lines of muscle you could feel under his clothes. Maybe it was his cheeky little wink or the fact that your crush was only getting worse the longer you knew him that had you sliding your hand under his coat. Fox’s fingers flexed, gripping the handlebars a little tighter and you smirked to yourself.

His stomach clenched, his hips shifting slightly when you pressed your palm under his ribs. The howl of the wind was muffled through your helmet and you turned your head, watching the beings in the vehicles around you. Fox’s chest expanded with a deep breath and you took the opportunity to shift your hand, dropping it lower, dragging it across his stomach. He didn’t react, switching lanes to avoid a speeder going under the speed limit.

You were toeing a line that you’d stayed far away from up to this point...and Fox was letting you. He could’ve pushed your hands away, making it clear he didn’t want this but instead, he leaned more of his weight against you. Taking a deep breath, you let your hands wander, sliding down enough to almost brush the waistband of his pants before moving to rest them against his hips.

You lingered there for a bit, not squeezing, just lightly holding onto his hips as he maneuvered through Coruscant’s busy skylanes. Fox stiffened when your hands finally moved, sliding down to his thighs and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing, licking your lips absently. Fox tilted his head, almost like he was trying to crack it, and your confidence only grew. Muscles flexed under your hands and you ached to feel him without layers of fabric in the way.

Fox’s thigh twitched when you trailed your fingers a little higher, brushing the inseam of his pants. But you didn’t stop there, lazily following the stitching upward, applying just enough pressure for him to feel it. You were almost at the bulge in his pants, ready to pull back when Fox’s hips shifted forward, and you froze, hand hovering inches away from his crotch. Fox turned his head and you could almost see the anxiety in the set of his shoulders. You had to make a choice.

Fox’s hip jerked again when you lightly cupped him through his pants.

You couldn’t hear him but you could feel a groan rumble through his chest and you shivered. His head tipped back when you squeezed lightly, his back straightening as he sat up. His cock twitched against your hand and you gasped into the privacy of your helmet. Then suddenly nerves buzzed under your skin, uncertainty threatening to eat you up. You wanted this more than anything but stepping over that line was big, to say the least.

Anxiety quickly got the better of you and you released him, ready to pull away only for a large hand to cover yours. You blinked at the back of his helmet, chewing on your bottom lip when his head turned to glance over his shoulder. Fox nodded, squeezing your hand once before reaching for the handlebar again. You clenched your teeth, letting out a shaky breath as you settled against Fox’s back. You wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but on a speeder hundreds of feet from solid ground.

You didn’t move your hand for a while, letting some of the tension melt off Fox’s shoulders first. His chin dipped down when you slowly started to rub him through his pants and your mouth watered when his breathing picked up. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if you could make him cum like this. Fox’s back arched, hips jerked when you tightened your grip and the arousal simmering under your skin continued to intensify.

Then Fox suddenly jerked into a more upright position, slowing the speeder enough to exit the skylane and you released him, moving your hand to his hip again.

Descending into the lower levels made your stomach turn and you kept your head on a swivel as Fox landed the speeder. He seemed to almost slump with a harsh exhale and you tried to hide your laughter as you climbed off the bike. Fox lingered on the seat for a moment, twisting to hide the way he readjusted his pants before standing. He kept his back to you, hands clenching and unclenching at his side as you lifted your helmet off.

There was commotion somewhere behind you, an argument or something, but you kept your attention on Fox. He eventually reached up to lift the nondescript helmet off, setting it on the speeder’s seat but he still didn’t turn around. Fear welled up in your stomach and you immediately regretted the fleeting touches on the speeder as you took a step closer.

“Fox?” His shoulders lifted in an exaggerated exhale and then he was moving. Your breath hitched when he grabbed the front of your jacket, yanking you closer. Your head was spinning, eyes widening when you registered Fox’s lips on yours. It took a moment for your fight or flight instinct to settle but once it did, your eyes fluttered shut and you melted into the kiss.

Your lips parted for his tongue and Fox tasted faintly of caf, a bitter yet welcome taste. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck, shivering when his hands released your jacket, following the curve of your body before coming to rest on your hips. Breaking the kiss was harder than you anticipated but Fox stayed close, resting his forehead against yours.

“Where did that come from?” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“Long overdue,” he huffed, slowly rubbing your sides.

“And what does it mean?” Fox chuckled under his breath, bumping his nose against yours, a disarmingly tender show of affection.

“It means, I’m not done with you, honey.”

Ragu list:

@a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @msmeredithrose @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @cw80831 @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino @dickarchivist

#commander fox x reader #commander fox #commander fox fic #coruscant guard #star wars #the clone wars #star wars fic

151 notes · View notes

denpa-dere · 6 months

Note

prompt 10 for luci!!!

Prompt: “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” with Lucifer

Warnings: Alcohol/Drinking

___

Okay, so, maybe you two had formed the bad habit of egging each other on. Not that he'd ever admit to letting anyone, let alone some little human, get under his skin and sway his judgment. No. He was Lucifer, first-born of the seven lords of hell and Avatar of Pride. As the prince's right hand, he had an image to uphold, always.

But between you and the prince's foolish encouragement, he was drunk.

The evening had gotten away from the lot of you, having fun and drinking on Lord Diavolo's dime in celebration of another RAD project successfully brought to completion. As the night drew on and the crowd thinned, some of the other demon brothers with weaker constitutions trickled out of the upscale bar, heading for home. You waved off Beel (saddled with an unconscious Belphie) when he offered to walk you back to the House of Lamentation. You could handle yourself, you reassured him.

Besides, it was rare to see Lucifer in such fine form: disheveled, face flushed, laughing raucously. He slouched over the bar, covering his face with one hand, trying to compose himself, and it was so- for lack of a better word- human that it made your heart swell.

You excused yourself for a quick trip to the restroom, wanting to collect yourself before seeing what else the night had in store. Fairly drunk yourself, you started to psych yourself up. Yes, obviously between Diavolo and Barbatos, Lucifer would get home safely no matter what state he was in. But you wanted to be the one to take him home. The thought of speaking alone with a more loose-lipped, candid version of him excited you a little too much.

You caught your reflection in the mirror and paused, dismayed. Maybe it was the harsh bathroom lighting, but you looked tired, older than your years. A cold weight settled in your stomach. You adjusted your hair and tried to shake off your sudden burst of insecurity. You were thinking too hard.

You had been gone for just a moment, but returned to find your seat at the bar taken by a beautiful demon. Even after all this time, the natural beauty of most demons still sometimes stunned you. The demon leaned in close, speaking to a very animated Lucifer and laughing coquettishly as he described something you couldn’t quite hear. You felt the air punched out of your lungs and numbly made your way over to gather your things.

"Hey, it's getting late, I'm going to head back," You said, throat dry but still smiling. Only Barbatos seemed to hear you. You bid him farewell and made your escape.

You felt stupid. How arrogant were you, anyway? You may be friends, you may live under the same roof, but you were still just you.

You heard your name called and turned, squinting in the darkness. It didn't take long for Lucifer to catch up with you.

"Why didn't you say you were leaving? You shouldn't be walking alone this late," He scolded you.

"I did," You replied with a thin-lipped smile, "You were busy."

He racked his brain for a moment and then chuckled, "Ah, that. I swear, I can never find a moment's peace."

“You seemed like you were having a good time,” You mused, continuing your walk home, “You should have stayed.”

You obliged, letting him turn you to face him. Maybe it was the alcohol, but tears were beginning to prick the corners of your eyes. He regarded you with an expression you couldn’t quite place- pity? That was your uncharitable interpretation, anyway.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, sounding somewhat offended, “Do you have better things to do than stand to be in my company?”

You clicked your tongue. Of course he would go there.

“No, Lucifer,” You sighed, feeling too raw to argue, “That’s not… I didn’t want to intrude if you were, you know, feeling a connection or something.”

Awkward and ineloquent. Nice. You could feel him staring into the side of your head but refused to look up. Your face burned. This wasn’t going how you had hoped. You sped up a bit, wanting to be home and done with it, already. You could sleep it off and pretend this didn’t happen, that he didn’t just see how transparently you were wounded.

Lucifer blatantly bit back a laugh and you bristled at his condescension. Whatever you thought was between the two of you had never been spoken aloud. It now laid vulnerable and dangling in front of your face, and he was laughing at you. Perhaps wishful thinking had caused you to misinterpret things. That cold weight in your stomach grew heavier.

“Is that- are you jealous?” He asked, incredulous. You didn’t reply, keeping your gaze straight ahead. His eyes widened.

“You are,” He said, reaching for your hand but catching the sleeve of your coat, “Stop, stop, stop.”

“You forget yourself,” He said, a bit more sober than before, “And our pact. You are mine, does that mean nothing to you?”

Fuck, now you were crying. This pressure was too much, the dam was about to burst.

“It means everything to me,” You choked out.

He took both of your freezing hands in his, “I have been around for a very long time,” He said, as if soothing a child, “You are the only human I have ever made a pact with. The only one I have ever trusted with that sort of power-”

You huffed, “I’m not talking about pacts.”

“I know that,” Lucifer said, silently pleading you would not have him elaborate. Not here, in some cold, dingy street. Not now, too drunk to give you the confession you deserved, “But what part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”

#obey me fic #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #writing prompts #denpa's transmissions #drabble: writes 900+ words #dis one hit good because im feeling kinda insecure today ty anon :3 hope you like it

162 notes · View notes

valeriianz · 7 months

Text

Parent Trap AU part 2! told from Robyn and Orpheus' perspective haha. (part 1!)

“Lemme see!”

“Quit shovin’!”

Robyn hovered above Orpheus, forcing the boy to crouch low so they could both poke their heads around the corner to spy on their dads.

Hob and Dream had been dancing around each other all week. Smiling and laughing and even touching each other with more and more frequency (a tap on the shoulder, a hand on the small of the back, even shoes brushing under the table). The twins’ masterful plan to make Hob and Dream fall in love again seemed to be going well… but just before anything earth-shattering happened, anything concrete, the two men seemed to remember themselves and backed away. To the utter bewilderment and anguish of the twins as they retreated back to the drawing board.

(Literally. It was a large crayola canvas that Orpheus had in his room to doodle on).

Robyn didn’t get it. It was so obvious Dream– the father he’d always known existed somewhere– still had feelings for his dad. It had been hard to tell, in those first couple days pretending to be Orpheus, but once he’d started earnestly asking Dream about Hob, forcing him to recall stories from the past and watching as he’d smile or laugh softly to himself, his gaze far away and misty, it became clear.

But then Dream would shake his head, clearing it, and change the subject.

Robyn and Orpheus had felt that connection between themselves instantly. That zap of recognition like, “Ah-ha! We were meant to find one another.” Why was it so difficult for Dream and Hob to see it?

Robyn huffed. Grown-ups.

After briefly parting for a couple days, Robyn found himself back at Orpheus and Dream’s luxurious home, under the pretence of one last stay to reacquaint themselves to the idea of shared custody or something along those lines, the boys didn’t really understand it, but what they did understand, was that their dad’s would be sleeping under the same roof. But only for a few days.

And after chasing Cori out of the house (good riddance, the pompous git. The boys made sure to give him hell), Robyn and Orpheus knew they had to utilise their time well, plotting their biggest scheme yet.

They, along with help from Dream’s butler, Mervyn, had set up this elaborate dinner that– oh no, Robyn and Orpheus wouldn’t be able to attend, leaving their parents to dine alone. Orpheus had set the scene: candlelight dinner, serving their dad’s favourite dishes, and (Merv’s idea, bless him for taking interest in the boy’s tomfoolery) soft jazz that would eventually transition into a very special song.

“You’ll see,” Mervyn had winked at the boys as he set up the playlist.

Robyn and Orpheus watched now, as their fathers sat down for dinner, perplexed at the absence of their sons (Dream looking exasperated and Hob scanning the room knowingly, biting down a smirk). The table was clearly only set for two people, and Robyn had done a fantastic job (in his opinion) of decorating with candles and flowers– he had studied that old photograph of their dad’s, copying the layout of the table they sat at there.

Mervyn came out and poured the wine, which is when Dream inquired where Robyn and Orpheus were.

“Afraid they couldn’t make it,” is all Mervyn said, as if the boys were very busy, tied up in meetings and paperwork and whatever else grown-ups did.

Hob propped an elbow on the table and let his head fall in the palm of his hand, shaking it slightly and fully smiling now, amused.

Robyn grinned too.

It took them a moment to finally start talking, but they fell into it, eventually. Discussing the boys at first, “little tricksters…” pranking Cori, stealing his glasses, setting the dog loose while they had wine and cheese on the terrace, and finally spooking his horse while he and Dream were out riding so the horse galloped wildly into the brush, knocking the ridiculous blond American off his saddle and into the mud.

Hob tried hiding his snickering behind his hand as Dream recanted these events to Hob, but Dream caught him with a woebegone sigh.

“It’s not funny, he sprained his wrist.”

Hob took a deep inhale, gathering himself.

“After all that wine and cheese, I hope he shit his pants, too.”

“Hob!” Dream snorted inelegantly, slapping a hand over his mouth, which only set Hob off again, laughing in earnest now.

The boys had to move away once they heard the squeaking of their own muffled laughter, both hands over their mouths, wheezing through their teeth.

“You’re just as bad as them,” Dream finally spoke after the giggles had worn off.

Hob shrugged noncommittally, mischievous grin still on as he took a long sip of his wine.

“You like it,” he said confidently, eyes sharp.

Dream said nothing, popping a forkful of beet and pear salad into his mouth.

After appetisers was dinner, then dessert. The time ticked away slowly and the boys eventually moved from their vantage point to the kitchen, asking Mervyn how it was going and the butler shooing them out with barely anything to go off of.

But it was going well, as far as the boys could tell. The conversation between Dream and Hob was flowing steadily, Dream giving out his smile more and Hob unable to take his eyes off of him. The grand finale was coming up and Robyn and Orpheus held their breaths as the jazz flittered out and in its place, a violin came up and both Dream and Hob seemed to seize up at the same time.

Orpheus was beginning to think this was a bad idea, especially as his father sat up ramrod straight, his fingers drumming on the table's surface. And Robyn’s dad looked…

Well, he looked– tortured, was a pretty close description. His lips had parted and he kept looking between Dream and his own hands, which he had begun wringing out in his lap.

“You’re just too good to be true…Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

A male’s voice crooned through the speakers, but Robyn and Orpheus paid it no mind as they silently watched their fathers.

Finally Dream met Hob’s gaze and held it. The boys held their breath, too. Wondering what was going to happen now.

“Do you think they know?” Hob asked quietly, so quiet that Robyn barely heard him speak.

“It’s our wedding song, of course they knew,” Dream sighed, casting his gaze up to the ceiling.

It was Hob’s turn to tap his fingers on the table, thinking, and making his mind up about something as he pushed his chair out and stood.

Orpheus took Robyn’s arm and shook it as Hob stepped up to Dream, dipping slightly and offering his hand.

“Dance with me?”

Dream stared at Hob’s hand, lips parted. Robyn felt himself shaking with the effort to remain calm.

Dream swallowed, Robyn could see from here.

“Do you think this is wise?” he asked in a whisper, eyes flicking up to Hob.

After a moment of tense silence, nothing but the song quietly playing, Hob took a long breath.

“It’s our song, we can’t not dance to it.”

And as if that was sound enough logic, Dream carefully took Hob’s hand, fingers elegantly curling around it, and allowed himself to be pulled up and led to a spacious spot away from the table.

Hob took the lead, using his hold on Dream’s hand to pull him close, the other hand circling his waist and causing Dream’s eyes to flutter shut as he willingly stepped closer, their bodies nearly touching, his own hand resting on Hob’s shoulder.

Robyn and Orpheus could barely watch now, from this angle. They scooted back out into the hallway to find another spot where they could see more clearly.

The only other option was from above, a loft directly above the dining room which was Dream’s study, a place Orpheus wasn’t allowed to be in by himself, but he figured this was a good enough excuse to break that rule.

Orpheus led the way, quiet tiptoeing turning into a full blown sprint up the stairs and around the corner, shushing themselves as they got to the door of his father's office and quietly pushed it open. The music was louder up here, closer to the speakers that hung from the ceiling, so they wouldn’t be able to hear their fathers if they spoke, but they could properly spy on them now without being seen or heard.

Robyn followed Orpheus’ lead and crouched down, crawling forward on his tummy and poking his head out through the railing and peeking below.

Dream and Hob were still swaying to the music, just as close and eyes open, gaze locked to each other. They had picked up momentum now that the song was more than halfway over, the second chorus coming in with trumpets and bringing the rhythm up to something more infectious, more daring as Hob’s grip around Dream’s waist circled around the small of his back, holding him tighter as he began to spin them around the room.

Dream’s long legs kept up as Hob visibly loosened up, leading them in an informal waltz. Robyn caught his dad’s wide, toothy smile every time he turned and he could see his face clearly. His eyes seemed to sparkle.

Orpheus nudged Robyn. “I’ve never seen my father smile like that.”

Robyn had noticed that Dream was smiling, too. But it was lips only, parting every now and then, like he was holding it back, biting his bottom lip afterwards to keep it at bay. But his eyes lit up in a way that was almost unrecognisable, focused solely on Hob.

Hob’s hand on Dream’s waist dropped, taking his other hand suddenly and taking a step back, turning Dream in his hold so his back was against Hob’s front, and spun him out, Dream following along with a surprised yelp and laughter that the boy’s heard from their vantage point.

When Hob pulled Dream back in, they were closer than before, chests flush together and noses bumping fleetingly.

The song was coming to an end, fading out as Hob and Dream slowed in their dancing to a standstill.

Orpheus gasps next to Robyn. “They’re gonna kiss.”

“Shh!” Robyn bumped his elbow to his brother’s side.

The boys held their breath as the song finally ended and another one started, instrumental jazz again. The men stood so Robyn and Orpheus could see both of them from the side, watching with bated breath as Hob brought up Dream’s left hand and kissed the knuckles, eyes glued to Dream’s.

Hob said something, his lips moving, unable to make out from here, but Robyn could see how Dream’s eyes widened as Hob dropped his hold on the other hand, moving his up to cup the side of Dream’s face.

Hob leaned in, agonisingly slow, eyes half-lidded.

And was met with Dream turning his face away, so not even the boys could see what expression he gave off.

Hob’s head dipped, defeat radiating off him, his forehead resting solemnly on Dream’s temple.

Robyn had to bite his tongue to hold back the groan of frustration that bubbled up in his throat. All Orpheus’ and his hard work!

Dream swallowed again, his jaw twitching, saying something, to which Hob shook his head, finally dropping his hands and ripping himself away.

“Hob, I’m sorry…” the words barely made it up to the twin’s ears, spoken by Dream, broken and thick.

Hob shook his head again, a painful, false smile plastered onto his face as he took another step back, then another, putting more and more distance between them.

“No…” Orpheus bemoaned, sitting up slightly. “What’s happening?”

Hob said something, quiet, before finally turning around and walking out of the room.

A long, heavy moment permeated the air, made doubly awkward as the music continued to play.

Dream stood, wrapping his arms around his middle.

And the boys simultaneously rolled onto their backs, staring blankly up to the ceiling.

So they missed the way Dream wiped a hand over his eyes, took a steadying inhale, and ran after Hob.

#dreamling #hob x dream #i had so much fun writing this one #i can't keep them away much longer hehe #also yes. Hob and Dream's wedding song is 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You'#by Engelbert Humperdinck #this is syrupy sweet and i regret nothing #my writing #dreamling parent trap au

161 notes · View notes

ywpd-translations · 3 months

Text

Ride 760: Kiji, flying

Pag 1

The MTB Emperor is taking part in the road racing Inter High!!

Pag 2

1: As expected!!

2: The groups from Kyushu, like Fukuoka or Kumamoto are in quiet places close to the course and the main office

3: and close to the water supplies too!!

4: Well, they're from here after all

5: On the other hand, we're towards the end where there's so much noise

6: And above everything, they clearly.... forgot

Pag 3

1: only our tent and they added it in a hurry, fou!!

Pag 4

1: Hmm, that could be

Is it because it's our debut? That's discrimination!!

2: It's handwritten!!

And it's even spelled wrong!!

3: In this kind of situations, you can't do anything even if you get so worked up about it, Ichifuji-kun

Isn't it enough that we have a roof?

Pag 5

2: Should I fix that writing with magic later?

3: Sonomoto-san!!

4: The place is a problem too!!

We're close to where they're holding the bicycles exhibition, so there's a lot of people passing by and they can see us since we have no tent

5: And when we're changing clothes? We use the bath towel like this, that's what they do on elementary schools' pools!! Fou!!

6: During MTB races you either do it in a car or in the wild

It's not like the management just conveniently forgot about us, either

Pag 6

1: But the truth is that we're being treated unequally....?

What about you, Kaida!? What do you think!?

Should we go tho the management tent and say a word to them now? Fou!!

3: I've never got any results in MTB and never participated in the Inter High, so for me it's sufficient enough that I'm able to participate in the road racing Inter High

4: Stuff like the tent aren't important

Ugh.....!! You're kidding, I have zero supporters in this situation!!

Pag 7

1: And isn't it nice to have good ventilation?

2: And also... if you have to say something to the management

Don't you think it would be more persuasive

3: if we first ran in the race

4: and brought results?

Pag 8

1: If we brought results.....!!

2: Fou!! (Yessir)

Now, if you're ready

3: Should we all go for a trial run?

Fou!!

Yeah!!

Yes!!

Pag 9

2: Excuse me! This is a pedestrians crossing!

Pag 10

4: Hello

Are you maybe? A kid from here?

How.....

5: do you stand on the bike like that?

Pag 11

1: Are you interested in bikes?

Even though your feet aren't connected to the ground, you're still in one place

2: Do you want to try?

4: I guess you won't be able to do it right away, but this is the theory

5: Bikes have a center

I'm standing there

6: A center?

7: It's different depending on the model, but a little before the saddle there's the center point of the bike

8: The technique is that you feel for it, find your balance, and then you find your stability if you properly position your body

Pag 12

1: It's called “standing”

Ohhhh...!!

2: Furthermore, if you can put your center of gravity firmly there

4: you can also let go of your hands while standing still, yon

Amazing.....!!

5: Amazing, amazing..!!

6: Yes yes, that's right, Kiji-san is amazing

Why does this guy looks so self-important

7: What's the heaviest thing on a bike?

Pag 13

1: Uh... uhm... the helmet?

3: It's your body

4: When riding a bike, the most important thing is to be conscious of where we put this “body”*, yon

Ah, when you're holding a bucket, if you're holding it with one hand you stagger, right?

(*NdT.: written as “heavy object”)

5: It's the same thing

6: “Weight” is power, yon

Ehh?

Pag 14

1: When you stop thinking “that's obvious”, “I know that”

2: That's when it's over for you

3: Discovery lies in common sense

4: The essential thing when handling a bike.... remember

5: is the “load” and the “unloading” to get ahead of it!!

Pag 15

1: Maybe it's faster if I show you?

2: Ah, that's good

Look at that fence

3: The movement of the “load”, and the “unloading”... and....

Use the same method as when you jump to take a picture at the beach

5: I'll jump over that fence!!

Pag 16

1: No, isn't it better to stop!? Onii-chan!!

2: You'll run into it!!

Just look, boy

3: Hayaaaa

That guy

4: is a guy who jumps over common sense!!

Yaaaaa

Pag 17

2: Don't miss all the multiple techniques he uses in an instant!!

Fou!!

He looks so self-important

3: First, he moves his body back and so he unload the weight from the front wheel

6: “Unloading”!!

Pag 18

1: He's really going to cras-

He's not!!

2: Then, he lowers his body's center of gravity for a moment

3: Then he stretches!!

And pulls the frame!!

5: He's not high enough!!

This is the moment when you jump when taking pictures!!

6: Pull up

7: your knees

The technique of skillfully using your “load” to jump over obstacles

Pag 19

1: is called “bunny hop”!!

Pag 20

1: There are people who have mastered the technique and can do it, but it's at most 30cm.... but Kiji-san

2: can jump 80cm!!

3: Who's that guy!

Did you see that just now

4: He jumped that fence with a road racer

His bike floated!?

The fence!?

5: I've never seen something like that

The jerseys' of the guys who are with him say “Gunma”....!!

6: It was ama.... amazing....

That.... if I practice... will I be able to do it too one day?

Of course

Pag 21

1: If you fall a lot, and skin your knees a lot, and eat a lot....

2: Okay?

3: Well now, since we're participating in the Inter High, come see us!!

4: I'll cheer for you...!!

Thank you!

5: The cyclists will soon gather at the starting line!!

#yowamushi pedal #yowamushi pedal translations #yowapeda #yowapeda manga #yowamushi pedal manga #yowamushi pedal spoilers #ride 760 #of course now it would be a chaper about kiji!! watanabe loves him too much to leave him out lmao #and we love to see him as always #ichifuji is so funny and also he's right! go complain to the management!! you shopuldnt be treated unequally!!#btw is their team only made up of four people??? i cant remember if they said it already #kiji showing off to a kid is so him ashdfgshdf there was literally no need but he is a show off always #thats simply what he does to everyone #and now he has a new little fan xD #i love him i love the team and i vant wait to see what theyll do during ih!!!#is it gonna start next chapter???? :eyes emoji:

93 notes · View notes

bluegalaxygirl · 5 months

Text

Celestial Wedding (ZoLu X reader) P3

Plot: Reader gets taken as revenge for Luffy and Zoro's defiance against the Celestial Dragons, they were just going to kill her to make an example but now theres a wedding????.

Warning: Bad language, Violence, Blood, kidnapping, Drugs forced marriage and salivary.

Thank you to @herwritingartcowboy for the suggestion. Reader is Female and a gunslinger, Zoro X Luffy X Reader, Poly relationship, established relationship.

P1 - P2 - P4 - P5 - P6 - P7 - P8 - P9 - P10 - P11 - P12 - P13 - P14 - P15 - P16 - P17 - P18

Being pulled off the elevator your met with a beautiful sight, lush grass and perfectly clean white paving stones level the floor, white and Blue colored mansions spread out as far as you can see, the tops of the buildings touching the light cloud cover above but the biggest building was to your right, it was wide and very tall to where you could hardly see where the roof tops where. It's no wonder they call this place heaven, its beautiful but the people who live here, in those beautiful and well taken care of houses are demons in your eyes. The Captain pulls you along soon making it to a set of large gold and white gates that slowly open, the captain and his men kneel on the ground so you follow even though you hate bowing to these so called gods. The sound of chains moving and light footsteps caught your ears but the captain forced your head to look at the floor gripping your hair in the process, a large case was places in front of the captain who smiles placing his hand on it and sliding it closer letting go of your head. The Captain holds out the detonator in his open palm waiting for someone to take it off him before he puts his arm back down. Your hands grip into fists as a white gloved hand take the detonator for the man before walking over to you, a gloved finger goes under your chin pulling your head to look up at the person now in front of you.

Your heart stops in your chest knowing the celestial dragon in front of you, Rosward the farther of Charlos who Zoro drew his sword at and Luffy punched in the face over two years ago. You mainly remember the comment he made before he was knocked out, how he would love to preserve and stuff the female members of your crew for defying his family. As the dragon looked you over turning your face from left to right he turned to one of his slaves a young man in gray rags who held out a bottle of hand sanitizer and another black case, "Leave my sight" Rosward threw the case to the captain then cleaned his gloved hands and the detonator placing it on his belt before grabbing the chain attached to your cuffs and pulling you too your feet. You offered up no resistance knowing what would happen if you did, you tried to stay calm not letting the fear and anxiety get to you but it was growing harder and harder to do so with the dragon's eyes on you. The captain keeps his head down and grabs the two cases of money standing and walking away still looking at the floor as his men followed his lead. "Prepare a bath, i can't stand them being filthy" The Dragon orders, some of his guards bowing and heading off with a few slaves to do as their told while Rosward pulls you threw the golden gates letting them close behind you, Rosward walked over to a large male slave who's on all fours with a sort of saddle in his back, it made you sick but you managed to hide your feeling as the dragon sat on top of the man before demanding him to walk.

You along with the other slaves and guards followed the dragon down the white smooth path, mansion's lines the streets along with beautiful gardens and fountains but you took the opportunity to look at the people around you. The guards where in full armor their faces covered and with large spears, their armor was shiny most likely have never seen combat but that doesn't mean the people under it might not be experienced. The slaves however didn't look good at all, the young man who had handed the stuff to Rosward was only wearing gray shorts, the celestial dragons mark burned into his back, he was also very skinny and had thick scars on his arms and legs. You notice though that the female slaves are somewhat better cared for, their body's and clothes are clean but with vials over their faces and the mark on their back but their skinny, you could count the ribs on them. You wanted so badly to help them but there was nothing you could do other than wait for your crew, you look forward again to see a large mansion with servant waiting at the door who bow before opening the large blue doors letting you all in. The inside was large, clean and almost glowing form the amount of gold and silver objects and statues lining the hallway, Rosward smirked as he stepped off the male slave and stood in front of you, he was about to speak when another voice hits your ears.

Charlos steps out into the hallway holding two chains that are attached to two girls, "Farther your back already?" He made you sick, you hate this man more than any other dragon, not only is he disgusting to look at, but he's rotten to the core. The son's eyes widen upon seeing your face a mixture of shock and anger "What is she doing here?" Charlos yells pointing at you as he storms over dragging the two girls behind him who stubble a little at the sudden pull, his farther sighs annoyed at his son's attitude but seems to let it go quite quickly "I thought it's about time we made an example. Stuffing and mounting this one will teach those pirates a lesson. They dare to defy us" The Dragon growls clearly still angry about what happened over two years ago, his gaze shifts to you, looking you over to try and see what your reaction is but you manage not to give one just keeping your eyes on the floor with a blank face, it pisses him off more, but he's soon brought back to his son who steps closer to you while picking his running nose. "Oh i see but why this one? Why not that straw hat or that green haired one" The son asks turning to his farther, it was something you were also wondering but you hoped to never know the answer too. "This one is dating the two, i thought lets kill two birds with one stone. This will hurt them way more than if we just killed them, they'll live their life in pain and suffering knowing their actions and defiance caused their lovers death" Rosward lets out a small chuckle with a grin.

You couldn't stop your hands form gripping into fists, you hate them so much it hurt and you wanted nothing more than to kill the two right here and now but you couldn't. Charlos hums and nods in agreement before looking you over, he steps closer picking his nose again and it takes everything in you to not lean away by how gross he is. The son seems to think for a minute even though your convinced he doesn't have brain to think with before snapping his fingers with a smile "I'll marry her" You can't help the jump in shock with wide eyes but it seemed to make the two dragons happy that they finally got a reaction out of you, "I need a new wife anyway since i had to dispose of a few" Charlos tries to convince his farther who Rosward smiles at your reaction seeming to like the response, but he shakes his head at his son about to say no only to stop seeming to have an idea pop into his head "Actually, this might work out better. Marrying a well known pirate will show those straw hats and anyone else who dares to defy us just how powerful we are." You gulp at this but at least their not going to out right kill you, your chain is taken by the son who looks you over again "Really? Thank you farther, this is a great gift. Come Wife " Charlos goes to walk away with a big smile only to be stopped by his farther who places a hand on his shoulder "No, we're going to make a show of it, broadcast it across the world and brand her after the wedding." The son nods although he looks quite upset about not having you right away.

You knew about this guy and the amount of wives he has but there has never been a wedding, he just tells you that your his wife and slave now and thats it. The thought of marrying this guy makes you sick but now there's going to be a full on wedding? You never thought about getting married to someone before but you never wanted this, being married off to a man you hate. "Get the word out, the wedding will be tomorrow at the church" Rosward commands to some guards who bow before leaving, trying not to panic you end up holding your breath as not to scream and cry or yell at the two in front of you. "I'll get my servants to wash and get her ready for now, i don't want her face too beaten up before the day" Rosward takes the chain off his son and hands it to his female servants who bow at him, everyone knew what Charlos was like, he was going to buy Camie just to put her in a fish tank full of piranha's. As the two Dragons talk you walk off with the two girls and some guard, The nice hallways soon turn into shabby one's clearly where the servants go. Entering a large bathroom, one of the girls starts running hot water and poring it into one of the metal tub's while the other starts taking the cuffs off your hands and helps you undress. It was very uncomfortable with a guard standing in front of the door while the other waits outside, the thought of running did pop into your mind but there's no way you could just leave unless you managed to get the detonator off Rosward which was very unlikely.

The G-5 base members ran around trying to put out fires or block the pirates attack, but they weren't prepared for a sudden aggressive attack. The sunny stayed out to sea, Nami, Franky and Usopp manning the ship as it fired cannon's at the large marine buildings on the small island, while Nami created a weather storm to take out any of the marine ships that dared to leave the port. The rest of the crew stormed the base splitting up to find those who have blue stars on their jackets in order to find out where you were. Luffy's anger got the better of him though rushing off on his own and taking down anyone who was in his way, he didn't think to look for the star, but he did think about finding an admiral or someone stronger. Zoro tried to stay close to Chopper in order not to get lost but with all the fighting and searching he ended up getting lost anyway, he knew if you were here you would tell him off and it made his heart ache, he just wanted you back. The rest of the crew managed to find a few people with the blue stars tying them up and trying to get them back to the docks like they planned but things weren't going so well, with Luffy destroying everything in his way, Zoro no where to be found and Sanji flipping out things kept getting more hectic. Luffy growls as he walks down the street only seeing marines scattering the floor either knocked out cold or dead, he didn't pay too much attention to them though instead trying to work out where to go next. This whole time he's just been beating people up as he runs but with no one to beat up he had no idea where to go.

The captain scratches his head and hums looking around him before hearing the sound of metal hitting metal, Luffy's large smile grows on his face as he runs off in the direction of the noise soon coming across Zoro who's fighting a large Lieutenant with a large blue star on his jacket. The swordsman managed to cut the large man across his chest and his legs but the Lieutenant refused to go down swinging his large metal pipe at Zoro who dodges going to deliver the finishing blow when Luffy's fist punches the Lieutenant in the face sending the man flying into a nearby building. The swordsman groans landing on his feet and turning to see Luffy running up to him with a large grin "I had it" The swordsman takes the third swords out of his mouth and puts it away along with one of the others in his hand. "Sorry couldn't help myself plus, he has the blue star" The captain adjusts his hat taking Zoro's free hand and walking over to the groaning Lieutenant, Zoro followed along feeling kinda glad that Luffy stepped in otherwise he would have killed the man, and they may not have a lead on where you are. Making it over to the man who's now laying in the rubble trying to sit up Zoro points his sword into the Lieutenant's face causing his eyes to widen and his body to stiffen. Luffy's smile fades as he glares at the blue star on the man's jacket "Where's Y/N?" The Captain asks making the large man jump slightly at his tone.

Zoro moves closer the tip of his sword now pressing against the large man's nose pushing him back down into the rubble since he's not answering fast enough "I-I don't know" The man looks at the two angry men, Luffy's eyes meet the Lieutenant's sending a shiver down the mans back but unable to look away "Where is she?" The captain asks again his hand gripping Zoro's hard but the swordsman doesn't flinch or pull away, instead he squeezes back lightly and presses his sword closer making a trickle of blood fall down the tip of the mans nose. "I really don't know... we just supplied the equipment and a few men."The Lieutenant beings to panic his heart pounding in his chest as he pants tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes, fear consumes his body as Luffy's eyes seem to get more angry making a heavyweight fall over the large man. "I-I don" He goes to say again only for the snail phone in his pocket to start ringing, the sudden sound makes Zoro smile pulling his sword back a little so its no longer pressing against the tip of the Lieutenant's nose "Answer it" The swordsman demands making the man jump but nod his head taking the small snail phone out of his packet, Luffy looks over at his first mate with a confused look, but he trusts the green haired man and stays quiet for now even though he wants to grab the phone and yell at who ever is on the other end.

The phone clicks when answered a male voice on the other end laughs in excitement "Gezz man what took you so long?" The Lieutenant gulps wondering if he should say what's currently going on or not but a quick look at Luffy makes him not do so, fear washing over him as he makes eye contact with the Straw hat captain "S-Sorry, i was busy. what's up?" The large man finally answers as cheering and laughter going on in the background "We got the money, all of it. Thanks for negotiating the price, we would have settled for Five Hundred Thousand but adding her bounty onto was a great idea" The man on the other end laughs his words kinda slurred indicating he's been drinking "Although some of my men wanted a bit more, that girl has quick a kick, i think Joe might need plastic sugary" It brought a sense of pride to Zoro knowing you fought, he knew you would but hearing about it just makes him feel a lot better. Although Luffy loved that you fought hard he hated how these men where so happy over selling you off, gritting his teeth the captain grabs the snail phone pulling it close to his face "Where is she?" Luffy yells into the phone hearing the cheering on the other end dying down as they seem to recognized his voice, Zoro growls at the silence on the other end wanting an answer to where you are already "Sorry mate your too late, you won't be getting her back form that place" The guy on the phone sighs making the captain more and more angry "Tell me now" Luffy's growl sounds more animal like than human shocking the Lieutenant who doesn't dare move form where he's sitting.

Zoro grips his sword tighter squeezing Luffy's hand, he knew what would happen if the captain got too angry, he'd most likely crush the snail phone and as much as he wanted to as well they needed it. "There's no point, it doesn't matter what you do now, they always get their way. Your at the G-5 base right? By the time you get there you'll be too late, sorry pal" Luffy's hand grips the phone tighter it starting to crack under his strength, Zoro's eyes widen as he quickly lets go of the captain's hand and snatches the phone "Zoro, give it back" Luffy yells getting closer to the swordsman trying to take the phone back but Zoro holds it away "Your gonna break it" The swordsman yells trying to avoid Luffy's arms stretching around him in order to grab the phone "No i'm not just give it here" Luffy yells forcing the swordsman back a bit and put his sword away as not to hurt the captain, the two only stop when loud laughing comes form the other end of the phone "You two are so funny.... We'll i'm in a good mood and slightly drunk so I'll humor you two but your not gonna like it" The man laughs making the two growl but bring the phone down to be in between the two, The Lieutenant see's an opportunity to try and sneak away only for Luffy to punch the man in the face knocking him out.

Feeling a lot calmer now Luffy's got some of his anger out he doesn't grip the phone as hard, the man on the other end soon calms down form his laughing fit and sighs "She's at Mary Geoise, i handed her over myself, Mr Rosward reached out to us to grab her for him" Zoro's eyes widen hearing the names, anger boils inside as he remembers the slave house and the celestial dragons but Luffy tilts his head in confusion not remembering anything about those names. "Celestial Dragons" Zoro state noticing his captain's confused face, Luffy looks up at his first mate as his fist clenches at his side, he still didn't know who this Rosward guy was but if he was a celestial dragon then that means your now a slave. His mind goes to several people who have been hurt by those so called gods, but he's fought one before and isn't afraid to do it again. "Honestly thought he was just gonna kill her but new's just got out that there's now other plans... i'm guessing it hasn't reaches you guys yet so please... let me tell you" The man sounded sadistic, seeming to enjoy the hurt he's causing "I won't let him touch her" Luffy growls glaring at the snail phone, the swordsman takes the captains fist getting angry too, he hated to think of what their going to do with you. "Oh he's not gonna touch her, if fact it's going to be such a special day, Mr Charlos is gonna marry her tomorrow" The two jump in shock at his words, the thought of marriage never crossed their mind and the three of you never talked about it and yet it hurt them both that you would be someone else's wife while also being a slave.

Their shocked silence made the man laugh "It's gonna be a big wedding and shown across the world... hay wait a minute aren't you the ones that beat up the celestial dragons? and she's your girlfriend right?" The man asks trying his best to get under their skin and make them more angry but the two just shook with anger gritting their teeth as the man laughed about the situation "How funny is this? oh! what a pay back, the two that defied Mr Charlos now have to watch as their own girlfriend marry the man and get branded on live TV" The man yells with laughter the crew behind him joining in only to be cut off by Luffy's grip tightening around the snail phone crushing it into piece, the captain breaths heavy with anger the only sound he can hear is of his blood pumping through his veins. Zoro's grip on Luffy's hand tightens as he grits his teeth, he couldn't stop the thoughts of what they're gonna do to you run through his head. "I'm gonna kill him" The two say in unison snapping each other out of their hate filled stare on the crushed snail phone, looking at each other Luffy's eyes soften his anger being replaced by sadness and pain. They had to get you back but now they were on a time limit, they didn't want you to get hurt, and they both new you would fight against this and probably end up hurt or worse. "Lets get back to the crew" Luffy states throwing the crushed snail phone aside and dragging his first mate along, Zoro sighs gladly following his captain but he couldn't help the feeling of dread that overcame him. It was going to be a hard fight to get you back but that wasn't what bothered him, he didn't want you to get hurt in the process.

102 notes · View notes

angsty-twihardxx · 1 year

Note

Hi Victoria!

I was wondering if you can write female reader with Tommy Miller. They somehow meet at Jackson and they develop a relationship. The reader is inexperienced and Tommy suggests that the reader does dry humping on his thigh since reader isn’t ready to have sex with him. While reader does this there is nipple play and he gives reader hickeys.

Also, I’m sorry if the way I requested this is weird I’m not good at writing out requests😅

A/N: omg! I absolutely loved this! Just fyi I was drinking wine when I wrote this so completely self indulgent ngl. This is my first lil request so I hope I make you proud! Also I haven’t really written a lot of smut so don’t know how good it’ll be, but anything for this sexy Texan x

Warnings: 18+ only! HELLA SMUT. This is basically filth.

@garbinge thought you might enjoy this as well (If you would like to be added to my Tommy Miller tag list lemme know) x

Come checkout my masterlist for more Tommy Miller fics here

RIDING LESSONS | T. MILLER

You were working with the horses the day he came through the gate, you were taking off one of the horses saddles when you saw him for the first time. Snow had just began to fall, a thin layer of white covering the ground. His dark-coal hair stood out from the white sky as it sat near his shoulders, his moustache covering his nearly blue lips.

Even though he was covered in layers of clothing you could tell that he was strong, his biceps hugging the fabric. His shoulders were broad, covered with a thick denim jacket.

Your face went red in embarrassment as his golden brown eyes locked onto yours, but before you could advert your eyes he sent a warm smile your way. It was quick and sweet the way it all happened, nothing out of the ordinary it seemed on the outside. Not knowing that each other’s heart picked up a few more beats per second, Tommy was no longer worried about the chill on his fingertips. Instantly for no apparent reason his mind told him to walk up to you and introduce himself.

But before he could take a step towards you he was swooped away by Maria for a tour.

Growing up in Jackson, you were never interested in dating. You spent most of your teens busy surviving from infected to worry about what boys looked cute. You guessed without thinking you continued that way of thinking, even though growing to be a mature woman and living in a safe commune where you could live a ‘normal life’. Like many other people your age were finding partners, getting married and having kids you continued to work and keep yourself busy.

Since Tommy arrived, he had worked hard to find you again. He hoped he would patrol so he would have an excuse to go to the stables and talk to you. But no luck, he had been working non stop helping patch up some buildings before the snow was at its heaviest. He had been installing a new roof on one of the shops when he saw you walking along the streets with some crates.

Even though you were wrapped in a thick coat and your hair was covered in a beanie, he still recognised you. Standing up Tommy told the others he’d be back.

You were trying to carry more than one crate at once, even though your arms weren’t long enough to do so you still tried. ‘Your a stubborn one’ he thought to himself as he got closer. Fog flew from your mouth as you huffed in frustration.

You jumped when you felt another hand brush past yours and lift the crates out of your arms. “You're alright, I got it.” You blushed, as he flashed you that same smile when you first saw him, it never failed to send you butterflies. “Thank you—“ You dragged, realising that you in fact hadn’t figured his name yet.

“—Tommy.” He finished for you, his Texan accent made your stomach do somersaults. “Where you want these darlin’?”

“Oh, just drop them off at the bar thank you. Got some orders to drop off today.” You tried your best to compose yourself, usually when men in town would flirt you would let them down softly. Say the usual line, sorry not interested. But this man you had barely met had you intrigued.

“Y’need any help?” Tommy placed the boxes down for you with ease then resting his fists on his hips as his eyes landed on you again. You couldn’t help but pause again, the way his muscles formed under the sleeves of his shirt. Or how his hair stuck to his ivory skin, even though it was absolutely freezing he still had broken a sweat. There was just something about his eyes on you that made you melt into a puddle.

“Uh yeah sure, if you're not busy. But I was going to have a bite to eat first if you wanted to join me?”

. . .

It was nearing Christmas and you and Tommy were getting pretty serious. Doing all the things that couples do, he spent so much time at your house anyway he basically lived there so that transition went smoothly. You went on dates, amazing ones.

Just a few weeks ago he had taken you on the horse out to a secret lookout he had found on his travels. And to say it was beautiful was an understatement, he found a spot and the two of you sat near the edge of the high cliffs and watched the water. You hadn’t ever really been outside of Jackson much, you never really had a reason too. “Maybe I’ll take you out further next time, find a nice little place to camp for the night.” He told you, draping his arm to hang loosely over your shoulders. It was relaxing, being with him you never felt any pressure to do anything you didn’t want to.

“I think I’d like that.” You responded honestly, never would you of gone out here with any of the other boys you dated. But from some of the stories he told you about himself, you knew that he’d take care of you.

And he did extremely well, a part of you felt bad that you couldn’t do more, when it came to being in a relationship. Sexually that is. But you couldn’t stop the anxious feeling you got whenever the subject was mentioned. ‘What if I’m not good enough at it? What if it hurts? What if he gets sick of waiting?’ That was your biggest fear, so you had a plan to lose your virginity.

Everyone had been working hard to pull together a big dinner for everyone, roast chickens from the pen inside the compound and lots of vegetables. There was even kids playing along the street by the giant Christmas tree. They had been doing this here since they had the supplies for it so this was something you were used to. Tommy on the other hand, looked taken aback. “What do you think?”

“I haven’t seen anything like it in years.” He smiled as his hand squeezed yours in reassurance, that he was happy. You knew that he had left his brother in Boston QZ, so you understood that this was going to be hard for him. You hoped you could do a good job of distracting him tonight, after dinner.

As soon as Tommy closed the door behind you, both of you stripped off your coats. The fireplace was blaring heat throughout the home. You were taking off your boots when a pair of hands spun you around. Tommy wrapped his arms around you and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Thanks for tonight baby. I loved it.” He spoke softly, his eyes softening as he smiled.

You took this as your chance, you moved in for another kiss. Except now you pushed onto his lips harder, wanting to fill the space between you. Wrapping your arms around his neck you moaned into his mouth, his rough hands danced up your spine, sending you goosebumps. Tommy was surprised at the way you leaped onto him, not that he was complaining.

Tommy was expecting to have a quiet night in, the two of you huddled up on the sofa and you reading to him the newest book he found for you on his last patrol. He thought he was going to fall asleep in your lap, and he would have been happy with that.

Not that he complained when you grasped his wrist in your hand and dragged him up the hallway and pinned him against the closed door, kissing him fevently.

As his lips dragged down along your jaw, Tommy took another step forward. The two of you moving past the door, you let out a small gasp as the back of your knee met with the soft fabric of your bed. ‘Holy shit you're actually going to do this?’ You tried to ignore that part of your brain as your body instinctively fell backwards into the mattress.

Tommy soon followed, climbing over the top of you has his chest hovered just a few centimetres above you. His shoulder length hair curtaining you from the outside world, you were safe here— just the two of you. Your fingers laced through his curls and tugged on them, needing him as close to you as possible.

Then why did you feel so uneasy? Maybe it was meant to feel that way, a friend of yours telling you when you're close to an orgasm you can feel it in your stomach. Was this it?

“What’s the matter baby? Y’alright?” He pulled back, noticing how your body began to stiffen underneath him.

You sighed, annoyed with yourself. “I just- I wanted to try and go all the way. But I-I dont think I’m ready.” You dropped your gaze, an annoyed huff leaving your mouth.

“And I told you I’m more than happy to wait for you baby, why are you so worried about it all of a sudden?” His frown deepened at your lack of silence, his hand moving to gently pull a piece of hair behind your ear.

God he loved you, and he would do whatever it took to make sure you knew that. He would wait as long as it took. He never wanted you to think that you had to rush into anything with him, he would wait forever.

“I just don’t want you to get bored with me.”

Tommy’s eyes softened, which you hated. That look that made you feel like a child, the same pitiful look that everyone gave you when they heard about your sex life— or lack thereof.

“Darlin’ I could never get bored of you. Trust me, I’m happy to wait as long as you need too.”

“I want to— I just want to go slow.” Your cheeks warmed, at the tension pooling in your underwear. You weren’t stupid, you grew up around your share of horny teens who never stopped talking about sex. Even growing up your friends told you about their experiences, what it felt like. You just haven’t met someone that you wanted to do it with, until now.

Your body reacted in a way you never experienced before when you met Tommy. He made you want to try new things, when his large hands lingered on your skin it made you want to do all the things you read about. Especially because Tommy was so much more experienced than you, feeling a bit inadequate when he told you how different he was before the outbreak. Not that he ever deliberately made you feel bad, he made it his mission to make sure you were comfortable.

“Well how about we try somethin’ else, yeah?” He flashes a playful grin your way as you nod. Cocking your head to the side, confused what else there was to do? “Why don’t you take those off for me sweetheart?”

He indicates to your pants, you pause up and look at him, innocence and confusion written all over your face. “You trust me baby?” You nodded again, your mouth failing you. “I need your words sweetheart.”

“‘Course I trust you.” That was all Tommy needed because he was up off the bed in a heartbeat, he reached his hand out to you which you took. As your feet landed on the wooden floor you quickly made work to throw your pants on the ground, leaving you in just your shirt and underwear.

You thought you had a pretty decent idea about sex, until you saw Tommy move to sit on the edge of the bed. Tommy noticed your confusion and gently patted his thigh. “Come take a seat darlin, I got lots of ways to make you feel good.”

You felt the same tingling in between your legs as he spoke, there was something so dirty about it that made you feel good.

Tommy helped you as you moved to sit on his thigh. He grasped onto your hips and held onto you firmly, you wrapped your arms over his neck again for stability. You tried to act like you hadn’t noticed his erection throbbing under you.

“Now I’ll help you alright darlin’? Just watch what I’m doing.” He whispered into your ear as his grip on you tightened. Your hips grind slowly onto the denim pants that he wore, he moved you slowly. You closed your eyes as the friction on your clothed pussy had your stomach in knots, this was the feeling your friend was talking about.

“You feel good baby?” Tommy’s voice was like a dream for you as his hands still worked your hips on him, his worries dissipated as you mewled into his shoulder. “‘Feels like fireworks.” You gasped, your eyes squeezed shut.

“That’s good baby, y’reckon you could do it yourself?” Tommy looked up at you earnestly, his eyes glued on your face as the pleasure pooled in your stomach. You nodded vigorously, concentrating on moving your hips at a steady pace. Tommy groaned as you leaned harder onto him, his hot breath on your ear had your hips snapping.

“Lean back baby.” He breathed, helping you as you did so. His cock twitching in his pants at the sight of you. Your head tipped back as your mouth fell open, the sounds that were falling out of your mouth was going to make him bust in any minute. Without hesitation he ripped off the button up you had on, you were too busy anyway to scold him for ruining your one nice shirt.

His calloused hands made quick work to cup your breasts as they bobbed with every snap of your hips. “Let’s take this off shall we? Keep going baby, doin’ so good for me.”

Hearing him praise you like that had you weak, your rutts had quickened with your uneven pace. You could feel your stomach tightening with every passing second. A part of you wondered why you were so nervous when something like this could feel so good.

You simply lifted up your arms, letting Tommy take off the bra for you. Shuddering as the cold air reached your now hardened nipples, but was quickly erased as you felt his lips on them, using his tongue to capture the hardened bud. His other hand kneading your breasts, you felt like you were going to explode.

“Tommy I-I think—“

“Y’gonna come for me darlin’?” Tommy already knew the answer as your breath hitched, using this as his time to move his attention to the other side. You didn’t know how much longer you could go, all the pressure inside you was looking and you couldn’t hold on much longer. The way Tommy’s hands attacked at your breasts in an animalistic way you had never seen before, you loved the way his rough hands felt on you.

You needed him everywhere.

Tommy somehow understood the best way to make you unravel on top of him. “C’mon baby come for me.” His hand travelled to the back of your neck, pulling you back against his chest. His mouth attacked at the skin of your neck this time, sucking on the soft nape and leaving red angry marks along your beautiful neck. He fucken loved the thought of the two of you walking into town and everyone being able to see his handiwork all over your body, they would all know that you're his.

Just the thought of it had your body shake as the pressure in your stomach snapped, your orgasm coursing through your body. “Oh my god Tommy!” You cried out, all you could see was white as your hips shook uncontrollably on top of his, your entire body shuddering against him.

“That’s it baby good girl.” He praised you again, pressing his mouth to leave another hickey on your neck. Not that you would notice, still coming down from your high you could barely hear a word coming from Tommy as your ears rang.

Gently, he lifted you up to place you down on the bed and lay beside you, watching as your chest raised quickly and fell just as fast. If it weren’t for the smile on your face he would be worried that he’d taken it too far. His hand softly brushed against your arm, his touch now soft and gentle, like the last twenty minutes didn’t happen. “How was that baby?” He asked softly, as if deep down he was still a little bit conscious.

“That was amazing.”

“I can tell, made such a mess on my jeans.” He smiles devilishly at you.

#tommy miller #tommy miller smut #tommy miller tlou #tommy miller fic #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller fluff #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #hbo the last of us

511 notes · View notes