#and the little curls at the ends of his hair
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Please ? | Spencer Reid
summary: reader wants spencer to take her virginity.
CW: inexperienced!reader , shy-ish reader , reader gets came on , 18+ (if i’m missing anything lmk)
word count: 860 words
you and spencer have been dating for 4 months now. the last four months have been filled with date nights every sunday (when he wasn’t away) and endless flirting and teasing no matter what was happening around you guys.
but you were craving more.
you and spencer have had heated makeouts and even a little dry humping every now and then but nothing ever came out of it.
so now here you were sitting on spencer’s bed with a nervous look on your face.
“spence..can we talk?” you start regretting your words when you see him sit up with a look of concern and fear on his face.
“did i do something wrong honey?” it’s almost as if you can hear the gears shifting in his mind and you quickly shake your head to make them shut up.
“no i just…why won’t you have sex with me?” you notice the deep breath he takes and relief in his eyes.
“are you ready for sex?” it was no secret to spencer that you were inexperienced and you probably would run away if he even tried to unbutton your pants.
“i think? i don’t know i’m just really horny and i can’t keep cumming from just your thighs.” a smile appears on his face and he grabs your waist sitting you on his lap and whispering in your ear.
“well how about we fix that then baby?” you hold back a whimper and pull him in for a kiss, slowly moving back and fourth on his lap.
“can i take these off?” he puts a finger on the waistband of your shorts and you nod your head. he unbuttons your pants and slides them off you with a little of your help.
he can’t tear his eyes away from your white lacy panties with small bows on the sides.
“you’re so beautiful baby” he rubs your cunt through your panties and you swear you could cum from just that alone.
“fuck..spence i need more.” you kiss him again this time tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. you move down to his pants and unbutton them, pausing when you feel his print.
spencer slides down his pants more and takes out his cock.
your jaw dropped.
he had to be atleast 8 and a half inches and you were even debating that.
“can that fit in me?” you say still shocked and stunned by his size.
“we can make it fit honey.” he tugs at your shirt and you shake your head. your not ready to be fully naked yet and he understands.
“lay down for me baby.” you move to the other side of his bed and rest your head on the nearest pillow. he kisses your thighs and makes his way up to your cunt, kissing all around it only making you grow wetter and wetter.
“please spence i can’t wait anymore.” he laughs at your eagerness and pulls down your panties. he stares at you in awe which makes you close your legs and push him slightly.
“stop staring at me like that..” he kisses your cheek and pulls your panties off.
“you’re so pretty sweetheart. every part of you.” he rubs your heat and you moan with every movement. he inserts his pointer finger and curls it which causes you to moan and arch your back.
“fuck..put another one in please.” he inserts his middle finger and waits for you to calm down before he starts moving them both at a slow pace. you’re a moaning mess and you’ve never wanted to come so bad.
“fuck if you keep doing that i’m gonna cum.” he laughs and takes out his fingers which causes you to pout.
“i don’t want you to come yet baby” he reaches over for a condom and puts it on.
“tell me if you wanna stop okay baby?” you nod and moan when you feel him rub his tip over your heat.
“fuck please just put it in.” he slowly inserts every inch into you moaning between each inch just from how warm your heat is. all that fills the room is your heavy breathing.
once he bottoms out he starts to move slowly. you moan with every thrust and your hands find their way to his long curly hair slightly tugging at it.
“go faster please, i can handle it.” his movements speed up and you can feel your orgasm approaching. the sounds of his quiet whimpers and your skin slapping against eachother becomes louder with every thrust.
“i’m so close y/n” his legs start to shake under you and his movements get faster causing you to let out a loud moan and your back to arch off the bed as your orgasm hits you.
not long after you feel spencer’s cock twitch inside you and his movements start to slow.
you both sit there for about 10 minutes trying to catch your breath.
“that was really good” you say, slurring your words. he smiles and pulls out of you slowly, handing you a bottle of water from the nightstand.
“i love you so much y/n.” he pampers your face in kisses and you both giggle until you both fall asleep, happy and inlove.
i’m not good at writing smut so tell me how it is 🌚 don’t forget to check out my masterlist !
#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#dom spencer reid#sub reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds smut
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𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐗
in which, in the morning nagi felt quite arosed and desiring, watching his s/o sleep. Male!reader, fem & minor dni, morning sex, lazy nagi as always. anon request, aged up! Nagi, smut, rushed !! English isn’t my mother language
"Namee" Nagi’s voice whined, as he glance at his lover. The white haired male held lazily his boyfriend’s waist, his legs were wrapped around [name]’s leg. As he cuddle [name], he stared at his eyes, who were half closed. [Name] slowly woke up, hearing Seishiro’s soft grunts. "what’s up, sei…?" His voice softly mumbled.
"why are you wake up, so early ?" A soft yawn came out of [Name]’s lips. "I’m bored, and.." his sentence ended at the middle, his boyfriend’s eyebrows rose, curious. "mhh." He opened his eyes widely, his eyes caught Nagi’s in front of him. He jolted, in surprise. He looked at him nonchalantly, deeply in your eyes. "What’s up ?" Wondered [Name] as he looks away from his boyfriends, who was over him. His boyfriend’s bored eyes frowned a little, his hands grip his face and makes him, look at him.
"mhh ?" The male under him hummed quietly, Nagi’s stare was intense, being woke up with a stare felt like a horrible nightmare. "I’m aroused" He buntly spoke, [Name]’s eyes widened in shock. "but, it’s such hassle" He admitted, His hands firmly grips his left thighs slothfully as he put it over his shoulder. His grips tightened on his thighs and does the same with his other leg and puts his legs over his shoulders. A warm flush roamed to [Name]’s cheeks, the male glanced at the male, who was now between his legs.
"Ah, i forgot to take off your pants" He nonchalantly stated, as he stared at him. His crotch was already hard, he’s been waiting for that time to do it with you, in the morning. He slowly took of his pants, and throw it across the room. He leaned towards [Name]’s member cover by the underwear. He began to suck his already hard shaft. [Name] let out soft groans, and he closed his eyes. His wet tongue soaked the h/c haired male’s underwear. He held the sheet tightly with his grip.
Seishiro peered at his boyfriend, seeing him, please. He lazily took off his underwear and saw his partner's member, dangling. He wraps his cock with his fingers, and stroked it, with lack of energy. "N—nagi, stop teasin’…" He moaned quietly, his soft and exhausted moans made the twenty-one years old male more around than before, the male slightly grin. He kissed the tips of his dick and lick it. As he lick it, [name]’s moans became lewder and even louder. [Name]’s felt a warmness around his member, Nagi’s mouth was wrapping his cock. For Seishiro, it was slowly getting boring for him. He stopped sucking and unwrapped it.
The young adult didn’t have any lube, at the moment, well that’s what He thought. So, he entered his ring finger on his puckered hole, using spit as lube. Name’s back aches, in pain and pleasure. "nag—" His toes curled, the white haired male already found his prostate, he wondered how did he finds It so quickly, the way he found It makes him kinda scared. [Name] felt hot tears flowing to his cheeks as Nagi puts a second fingers, the male scissors the male under him. With his free hands, Sei unbuckled his pants and let it fall down to his knees.
He thrusted slowly with his fingers, into him. [Name] felt he was about to came at any moment, the slowness was more addictif, and it felt so great like he was hypnotized in pleasure. [Name]’s hole was now wet, and easy to thurst in, his boyfriend’s finger was getting tired. He lowered his underwear, letting out his hard, and thick cock out. Name doesn’t remember when he became that big, his eyes was wide open. "Nagi— i don’t think" Nagi shushed him, as he enters his cock tips at his bf’s hole entrance.
"oh!" A lewd sound came out of his mouth, he raised his head in delirious pleasure. Lazy thurst was humping into [Name]’s hole, Sei held his partner’s waist to guide him. His thrust were sloppy and lazy, however, it felt like addicting ecstasy. Nagi grunted as he looks at his lover, sweat on his face and smile slightly. [Name] should’ve cum on his stomach for his smile, but he did anyway. Nagi also came after few thrust, his white liquid, filled [Name]’s inside. The male over him, sigh and yawn. "i’m tired" He close his eyes and lay on [Name]’s torso, still inside his lover. His height was crushing [Name]’s torso. "Nagi— i can’t breath!.." He spoke, exhausted and sour. The eyes of [name] noticed his partner already fell asleep on him. "ughh." He grunted as he deadpanned, tiredly.
#bllk x male reader#blue lock x male reader#male reader#x male reader#uke male reader#anime x male reader#bottom male reader#blue lock#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n#bllk x reader#bllk smut#bllk x you#blue lock smut#nagi seishiro
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to be a muse
Description: Benedict meets a fascinating young woman
Word Count: 0.9K
Warnings: I think I made Benedict a bit of a himbo but that's okay. the reader is still black and even though she's charlotte's daughter, I made it so she's any skin tone which lowkey makes sense given how wild genetics work
Benedict stared at the painfully blank canvas of his family's drawing room. Hyacinth's and Gregory's laughter could be heard running about in the family's home. Kate and Anthony were doing god knows what, honestly, he felt like he was going to throw up from the love that came from the both of them.
"Brother, I fear I'm in a rut," Benedict announced while plopping himself down in between Colin and Eloise. He reached over and stole one of Eloise's bonbons.
"I beg your pardon," Colin said as he jolted awake from Benedict's sudden appearance.
"Nothing, and I mean nothing, has inspired me. Idle hands," He waved his hands in the air for extra effort.
"You are out of inspiration and you woke me up to tell me this," Colin tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes but nothing was working as Benedict yapped on and on about art.
"Yes," Benedict shrugged.
"Have you tried going to the museum? I hear there is a new exhibit. It might spark something for you," Eloise just wanted to eat her bonbons in peace.
"That's why you are my favorite, " He ruffled her hair before dashing off to find his coat before heading to the museum.
-
He stood in front of a painting for what felt like hours. It seemed like he was waiting for something to come to him, his inspiration. Footsteps shuffled around him, yet, Benedict remained unmoved.
"I find his work to capture the inquisitive nature of who he paints," A melodic voice came from behind him. He turned a saw a woman around his age with the most beautiful features. Delectable lips, and round cheeks, and her skin looked like it was kissed by the gods themselves. The gorgeous shade of brown, he had ever seen.
"You do? That is a refreshing perspective. My family thinks them all to be faces on a canvas," He probably should have addressed her more formally but for now he was happy to have someone share interests with him.
"They are but they are also so much more. Each brush stroke is an attempt to capture a moment. No matter how imperfect it may be," She looked at him with a small smile playing on her lips. His eyes lingered there a little long before dragging down the rest of her body. She did not have the clothing of a commoner. She must be a lady, he thought to himself.
"Are you a painter?" He asked.
"I am talentless in art, I'm afraid but that doesn't stop me from enjoying it. And what about you?" She shook her head and he noticed the bouncy curls that fell from her scalp. He was becoming more and more entranced by the moment.
"I dabble. I am not great enough for a museum. My siblings believe it to be my hobby," He admitted rather shyly.
"Yet. You are not great enough for a museum, yet. Mister?" She asked for his name.
"Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton," Benedict gave her a small smile as he introduced himself. She chuckled slightly.
"It has been wonderful chatting with you, Mr. Bridgerton, but I fear I may have to leave." She looked disappointed that their conversation had come to an end. Benedict looked up at the painting and began to speak.
"What is your name so I may fin-" He looked down and she was gone. She had disappeared into the crowd before he could finish his statement. He pushed to the entrance of the museum but there was nothing.
-
"All of this happened and you did not catch the lady's name?" Colin asked as he and Benedict made their way away from the mothers who all wanted their daughters paired with a Bridgerton.
"She was perfect. I only entertained Mother's idea of me coming to the ball tonight in hopes of seeing her," Benedict said while adjusting his waistcoat and smiling at some of the season's eligible debutantes but none of them were her.
"And if she's not here?" Colin asked, his eyebrows squinted and a bit concerned by the potential answer.
"I will simply cease," He deadpanned.
"Cease what?"
"To exist," Benedict said and watched as more and more people arrived at the ball. Even the Queen was in attendance, but someone far more interesting trailed behind her.
"Stop hitting me. Mother, he's hitting me," Colin said as Benedict repeatedly tapped his brother's shoulder. Benedict's eyes were wide as they trailed the woman he met in the museum.
"That's her. That's the woman," Benedict said watching her gracefully walk across the room. She was dressed in the finest silks and her curls that were wild and free earlier were pinned back.
"Well, that cannot be," His mother started. Her son could not have been talking about her. That would have been impossible.
"What are you talking about? She is right there. Even more beautiful than when I saw her last," He noted her appearance before quickly bowing in the presence of Queen Charlotte. Sure, the family had her favor, but even they knew their place.
"Bridgertons, I do not think I have introduced my daughter. Princess Y/N, she takes after me in beauty of course," The Bridgertons turned and then bowed in front of the Princess who looked mortified.
"It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintances," She spoke softly as her gaze held Benedict's. He understood why she dashed away. The scandal of an unmarried princess wandering the museum alone. Especially, considering how long the two of them spoke together.
"A pleasure indeed," He would see her again. He had to find his muse.
Taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire @prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo @blckbarbiedoll idk if you guys wanna be here for this because it's a bit diff from my usual content but just let me know!!
#x black!reader#black!reader#x black reader#black reader#benedict x black!reader#benedict bridgerton x black reader#benedict bridgerton x black!reader#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict x princess!reader#benedict x reader#bridgerton x reader
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Summary: you and Sirius think James would look hot with blonde highlights
Poly!prongsfoot x reader (James Potter x reader x Sirius black) | 500+ words
A/n: I am so sorry this is so short omg, I've been weirdly busy the past few days and it's been hard to find time to write
Tw: rave mentioned, reader has dyed their hair before, sleepy James, I am still learning to write James, illusions to possible smut at the end
⊹₊ ✰ ⋆★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊⊹₊ ✰ ⋆★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊⊹₊ ✰
Sirius' record player is on in the background, softer than usual. James is resting his head on your stomach. Both of you splayed out on the sofa.
Sirius is sitting on the ground, the coffee table moved to the side to make room in front of him as he makes his next outfit for a rave he mentioned, likely also planning on how to get you to let him make one for you as well.
James is barely coherent at this point; a long day making him sodding exhausted and extremely prepared for the weekend. Your nails rake through his curls, still slightly wet from his shower.
"You know, Jamie, you'd look good with dyed hair."
Jamse barely gives a sign he heard you, tightening his hold on your back and burying his face further into your shirt like he wants under your skin.
Sirius looks over at you two, "you're right, he'd look bloody hot with blonde streaks or something."
You move James head so you can see his face, squishing his cheeks, glasses already discarded on a side table. "You would look fucking hot with blonde streaks, dear Merlin."
Your other boyfriend places down the wire and needle nose pliers he's using to move closer to the couch, "you want some blonde in your hair, baby?"
He moves his face out of your hands, laying back on your stomach. "wha' 'ver you wan'" James' voice is slurred with sleep.
ᯓ★
That's how you got her a week later; you sat on the counter top of your bathroom sink, and Sirius putting on his latex gloves to mix bleach.
James sits on a wooden stool, that has seemed to make its way around the entire house since you bought it, wearing a extremely stained shirt both you and Sirius have worn while dying your own hair.
"Any regrets, lover boy?" You shimmy on the counter to sit infront of the tanner of the two boys.
"I think that it's unjust for you to manipulate me in my sleep to get me to dye my hair." James grabs your ankles, hands rubbing up and down your shins.
"You could talk; it's got to count for some kind of awareness to what's going on." Sirius grins at his counterpart, mixing the bleach and walking behind James.
"So cruel, both of you, so cruel." He juts out his bottom lip, looking up at you with a pout.
"You haven't pulled out yet, so I'm starting to believe this is just a cute little act." Your grin is nearly identical to Sirius'.
"Don't talk to him about pulling out, love, we won't be able to finish before he gets restless." The darker haired boy laughs as he adjusts James head.
"Both, so, so bloody cruel."
ᯓ★
James' hair took to the dye pretty well, only ending up needing two rounds of bleach.
And fuck, you where right. He looks fucking hot. The blonde, thick, streaks that curl perfectly into his brown hair pattern.
"Bloody hell-" Sirius talks between kissing James "your look-" kiss "fucking delicous"
Sirius pauses for a second to look at you walking through the door of your home, throwing your bag to the ground and toeing off your shoes. "Come here, doll."
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james potter x sirius black#james potter imagine#james potter oneshot#James potter fluff#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#sirius black imagine#sirius black x james potter#sirius black oneshot#sirius black fluff#Sirius black#marauders era fic#marauders fanfiction#marauders#marauders era#marauders fic#marauders x reader#marauders era fanfiction#poly!prongsfoot#poly!prongsfoot x reader#poly!prongsfoot x y/n#poly!prongsfoot x you#poly!prongsfoot imagine#james potter x Sirius black x reader#poly!prongsfoot oneshot
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Hey!! Could you do aftercare Leo Valdez head cannons please!!
˗ˏˋ leo valdez | aftercare headcanons
☆ radiostar is playin': 1-2-3 by gloria estefan and miami sound machine...!
warnings; allusions to sex, language
a/n; hey! you mean my favorite boy? absolutely yes.
tags; @green-tea217
Maybe he doesn't look like it to some, but...
he's a total love machine.
he's all smiles afterward, feeling silly with that afterglow vibe he always tries to spread around, and it works.
both literally have that goofy grin while catching your breath.
you feel that love in your stomach and-
stop Let's move on!
yet you still end up drained.
Leo rolls over to see you (with flushed cheeks and sweat on his forehead) and admires how you slowly recover, whispering sweet (but also teasing) things to you.
"That's my girl," "Hmm, you've never looked better, huh?" and he makes you blush, but he also makes you feel loved.
Then he opens his arms and raises an eyebrow, testing the waters to see what you want at that moment.
If you hug him, he'll hold you until you say you want to move, cuddling with you while stroking your hair.
He traces your skin delicately with his index finger.
there are moments when you're drifting off to sleep in his arms, feeling the taps on your bare back in Morse code. "I love you."
"Me too," you respond weakly, smiling against his chest. He grins like a fool.
He also buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you run your fingers through his curls that tickle your jaw.
He looks for you a lot too, in a way to let you know how good he feels with you.
Anyway, if what you want afterward is a bit of privacy to be alone, he'll get up, put on his boxers, and walk to your side of the bed to tuck you in with the sheets.
"I'll be back, mi amor," he says after giving you a kiss on the forehead and brushing your hair away from your face.
That man cooks for you, like REALLY cooks. You know because you smell the pasta cooking in the kitchen from his room.
He checks on you and brings you water a couple of times.
He sits on the edge of his bed and hands you the glass with a beaming smile. When you give it back, he sets it on the nightstand for a moment and asks if you're feeling okay.
"Everything alright?" he whispers sweetly while holding your chin and locking his chocolate eyes with yours.
You nod, and he kisses you.
He tells you the food will be ready soon, then offers to take you to the bathroom so you can shower.
That mf has gotten really strong. He can carry you however he wants, but he does it by throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and runs to the bathroom laughing like a kid.
When you enter, you see he's already placed your towel nearby for you to take, and when you come out to dress, you see he's left your -his- clothes for you to wear.
Before you eat together, he does the same and includes tidying up the room.
he wants you to feel comfortable, happy, and he succeeds.
when he's ready, he hugs you from behind and kisses your neck, you jump when you feel his wet hair but it gives you relief to feel him close.
"Hungry?" he whispers in your ear while gently tightening his embrace and smiling like the damn devil because he's saying it with a double meaning.
"you'll be the death of me, babe" he says because he really can't help but drool over you when you walk around in his clothes.
Both return to bed for a cuddle session and sweet whispers in each other's ears.
he uses his warmth powers for you, which is the best when the weather is cold or rainy.
"You're too good for me," he says and gives you a slow kiss while caressing your cheek.
you enjoy resting on his chest, and he's delighted with it.
You sleep entwined with each other, he's the big spoon, you're the little one.
He lives to see you happy and satisfied, doing it with love and kindness because he's your man.
#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#leo valdez#pjo#leo valdez x you#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez headcanons#leo valdez hoo#leo valdez fanfic#leo valdez fic#hoo x reader#hoo x you#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#blood of olympus#leo valdez imagines
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Kiss the Cook 4 | 2.3K
linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader
Summary: It's just you and Eddie working on a lazy Wednesday morning. Until an unexpected guest throws a wrench in the gears.
A/N: This might seem a little out of place in this current series, but it's an older piece I wrote many moons ago. Based on a mostly true Thanatos server experience.
--
As usual, you leave the cream colored coffee mug at the prep station next to the fruit cup that Eddie’s prepared for you. His back is still turned, he’s throwing down a case of bacon to fry off before opening. This time of the day, his clothes are clean and fresh and his hair is still damp from his morning shower. His hair is pulled up in a bun that sits a little higher than normal, and it gives you a good view of the fine hairs at the back of his neck. Little soft curls that cling to his skin just above the place where his shoulders work underneath his crisp white shirt.
The tattoo there has always been something that you’ve noticed, but you’ve never gotten the chance to really see it until now. It’s a sword, the hilt of which can barely be seen through the curls that rest at the nape of his long neck. The blade looks sharp enough to cut, and it reaches straight down his spine. You wonder about it, and hope there’s a day when you’ll get to see the tip of that blade, wherever it may be.
You’re thinking about reaching out to touch his neck. - let your fingertips feel the skin and hair - when he turns away from the grill and the meat that’s already begun to spit. He seems totally unaware of your gaze, even now with his profile in full view. You could already be sitting on the curb out back puffing through your pre-opening cigarette, but this is a rare thing getting to study him so intensely in a quiet moment.
“You gonna stand there and stare all morning, or do you wanna go smoke before this place turns into a zoo?” You can feel heat in your face immediately, and hope he doesn’t turn to look at how you’re reacting to his teasing. You were caught, but also, he was letting you look. Your stomach does a flip at the thought of it, and you wonder how long he’s known that you’ve been taking all of the sly glances you can.
“I was just waiting for you,” you spin on your heels and head towards the back door before Eddie can look at you, “whenever you’re done screwing around with your meat, I’ll be out here.” Eddie’s low giggle follows you through the back door. The 90 seconds between when you sit on the concrete and when Eddie opens the back door to join you is enough time to consider that he was flirting with you. Openly. That’s new. You think it’s new, anyway. Maybe you’ve just been missing it.
It’s with a heavy sigh that Eddie sits down next to you on the low to the ground curb, his long legs extended so his knees don’t sit up high under his chin. He’s long, like a stretched out cat dressed in his still clean black denim and cotton shirt. He’s close enough for you to smell the soap that still clings to his skin from his morning shower, and the deodorant he must have put on directly after.
“So. I’ve been thinking about something.” Eddie’s fumbling hands are reaching around in his apron pocket while a Camel dangles from his lips. You extend your green Bic, flame lit, to his cigarette. Eddie smiles around the paper filter, his eyes flick from you to the end of his cigarette where the cherry burns to life. “Thank you,” he whispers on an exhale, his full focus back to you.
“What have you been thinking about Eddie?” You push your shoulder against his. As always, it’s a way to connect your bodies in a mundane and friendly way. You think it might be your imagination, but you could swear you can feel his body heat through his and your own layer of clothing. He’s gotten shy now, eyes focused on the asphalt parking lot in front of him. His long fingers are twirling the lit cigarette around while you wait for his answer.
“Well,” the word comes out in a higher pitch than normal, he clears his throat, “well, I was thinking maybe we could go out sometimes. Just you and me, like uh -” he brings his eyes back to yours, gauging your reaction, “- I’m sorry, I’m shit at this. It’s ok if you say no, I don’t want it to be weird at work or anything.”
“I don’t know how anything could be weird when you haven’t actually said anything outside of wanting to go out. Sure, Ed, we can go out. We’re friends aren’t we?” You can’t hold back the snicker that laces your words. Eddie’s so cute, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are pleading. He looks like a boy instead of the 26 year old man that he is, and he’s begging you for mercy.
“You’re torturing me on purpose, and it’s not nice.” No, it’s not nice, but it’s having its intended effect. Eddie wants to take you on a date, and you can’t care that the words are too hard for him to say when his face is so close to your own. When his lips, oh he can definitely see that you’re looking at them, are so pretty. He’s close enough that you can see the stubble across his top lip. Fresh shave this morning, but the light of the sunrise is starting to make the tiny hairs sparkle.
“I’m sorry, Ed,” both of your cigarettes are burned to the filter, and you know it’s at least a couple of minutes past opening time. You can’t find it in yourself to care. You have a wild thought about asking him to flick work with you. To go for a long walk and hold hands. Your thoughts get wilder when you notice his eyes flick down to your mouth as if in question. Unconsciously doing the same thing your own eyes have been doing to Eddie’s lips. Are we going to kiss out here on this curb while the sun is still hiding behind the trees?
Your thought is answered and the moment is broken. The sound of a familiar voice mumbling a curse accompanied by a fist loudly knocking against glass. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past opening, and Jimmy is right on time as always. The retiree that sits at the corner of the counter for the first hour of the diner’s business, and has been doing so since the week of the grand opening 15 years ago, is ready for his morning’s coffee.
“Sorry, Jimmy, I’ll be up front in 30 seconds!” You shout around the corner of the building from your spot on the curb, neck craned in the direction of Jimmy’s grumbling before slapping your knees and standing up. You look down at Eddie and find that his gaze has returned to the tree line beyond the parking lot. He lets out a chuckle and pulls out another cigarette while you pat the top of his head in goodbye. By the time you get Jimmy's coffee and cruller, Eddie will be inside to fry up his eggs. You wonder, as you step back in through the metal door, whether the words between you and he will mean anything, or will be forgotten as the day moves forward.
–
You’re perched on a barstool at the counter, Jimmy is the only company you have when it happens. Eddie’s smoke break took longer than was reasonable, and you stepped out of your assigned role to make two sloppily fried over medium eggs for the old guy. You didn’t mind, you assumed this was just one of those mornings. Sometimes, Eddie is pensive. You only wished there was a way to relieve him of his duties for the day so he could get a real break.
The sound of the back door opening draws your attention towards the kitchen while your hands mindlessly pull out a knife, fork, and spoon to roll into the paper napkin in front of you. Immediately you realize something is wrong, because the familiar sounds of Eddie stomping are replaced with a choked off scream and - possibly the sound of a scuffle of some kind.
“What the hell -” before Jimmy can’t get out his thought, he too recognized that something was wrong in the small hallway that holds the back door and bathrooms, Eddie’s high pitched yelling freezes you in your spot. A split second later, your fear has you on your feet and sprinting towards the cacophony.
“Motherfucking son of a bitch!” Eddie hollers before throwing open the swinging kitchen door, narrowly missing your face. A small red blur passes in front of you before you catch sight of Eddie. He is standing in front of the men’s room door with his shirt pulled half over his head and his apron tangled in his arms. Your brain cannot make sense of the sounds and sights you’ve just experienced, and then you hear the voice of another man shouting at the opposite end of the restaurant.
“Christ Almighty!” Jimmy sounds less frantic than Eddie did a moment ago, but no less surprised. Your feet are moving again, letting the swinging door close on the disheveled line cook. Your mind is working to make sense of things when you round the corner to enter the dining room and find your foot skidding against something slick. A quick look down tells you it’s - what the fuck - bird shit.
There’s a bird loose in the restaurant. A bird. And the two men here are screaming messes.
You head back to the dining room and grab a broom before you make your way into the dining room to save an old man from the bird menace. The crashing of silverware tells you that things are not chill, and you’re ready for it. You think you’re ready for it until a flash of red feathers swoops down at your head as you remember to step over the spot of shit left on the linoleum.
“What the fuck.” Your attempt to bat the bird away from your head with the broom, it’s a cardinal - you can see it clearly now, results in you breaking a bulb in one of the hanging lamps that are throughout the dining room. Glass rains down on your shoulders, and you have at least enough sense to shake it off rather than use your fingers to brush at it. “Can birds have rabies?”
“No!” Jimmy answers your rhetorical question from the opposite end of the dining room. You see that his coffee mug and plate of eggs are spilled on the floor next to his abandoned barstool, “but this one is fucking possessed! I flew right at my head like it was out for blood!”
–
The battle of the bird vs. Eddie Munson lasted 2 hours. Casualties included one lightbulb, a glass coffee urn, a set of salt and pepper shakers, a ceramic coffee mug, a tray of donuts (bird shit), and the ceramic plate that held Jimmy’s poorly made over medium eggs. You and Eddie tried and failed to catch the terrified creature dozens of times before opening both the front and back doors and returning to the spot at the curb where Eddie almost managed to ask you out on a date before the chaos began. It took less an 5 minutes for Mr. Cardinal to find the exit, swooping down at Eddie’s head as a final “fuck you”.
“What did I do to deserve that bird’s rage?” Eddie’s hair is a mess, and you can’t help but wonder if he had managed to do something that has resulted in this avian vendetta. “I say we clean up and call this day a loss. Charlie can kiss my ass if he has a problem with it.”
“Charlie won’t care. We already lost breakfast to a bird.” Your words came out with a giggle. Eddie caught the itch of laughter. The post bird drama hysterics had you both hunched over in gasping laughter until the thought of your lost wages made your smile fade. “I’m gonna make Charlie pay me kitchen wages for today.”
Eddie hummed in agreement with the sentiment. You certainly deserve it, especially considering what it will take to get the bird shit out of your non-slip footwear’s sole. When you go to stand, finally deciding it was time to clean and get as far away from the war zone as possible, you’re stopped by a soft grasp of Eddie’s calloused hand on your forearm. You look at him and find his gaze firmly on yours, and not looking out past the tree line.
“How about we clean up and go out to lunch somewhere? My treat?” A battle well fought has given Eddie the nerve to ask the question he’s been wanting to ask for months. Even now, when he knows your answer, butterflies’ wings beat in his chest as the silence after his question is asked fills the air.
“Ok. But only if we can get some ice cream after.”
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#linecook!eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson series#eddie munson au#eddie stranger things#eddie munson imagines
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Love Thy Neighbour (gr63) - Part Two
↳ A/N Another day of daydreaming about househusband George sighh. This universe really holds a special place in my heart, honestly. But maybe that's because I'm addicted to the concept of the 1980s and all that I missed from not existing then-
↳ Inspired By: 'Everything She Wants' by Wham! and 'Heartbeat' by Wham!
↳ Summary: It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family moves into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own 'perfect' marriage start to come to light.
↳ Pairings: George Russell x Neighbour!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)
↳ Word Count: 27.3k
↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating/adultery (and the consequences that may come along with it), use of explicit language, oral (f and m receiving), choking, spanking, some biting, hair pulling, use of derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex, open ending
PART ONE
October 1984
You were sure there was nothing wrong with wanting to work outside in your garden the same afternoon that George happened to be mowing his lawn. Just two neighbours innocently working on their respective properties in the same late morning autumn sun. In reality, you had nothing to really work on since you had just moved in and the seasons were already changing, therefore nothing was in your garden. But you busied yourself with the few weeds and cleaning up the edges here and there, in need of some excuse to keep an eye on your dear neighbour.
You hadn’t seen him all weekend since your spouses were home from work and those two days were always important family time that was otherwise limited during the week. Since your whirlwind of a Friday, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about George. Every time your family ate breakfast in the kitchen, your eyes kept drifting to the counter that he had you up on. Every time you walked past the living room, all you could see was him on top of you on that floral couch. Every time Andrew kissed you, you wondered if he tasted another man on your lips. It was once guilt but now the thrill seemed to overpower it.
After taking your boys to the bus stop that morning, you and George didn’t speak much more than passing remarks about your weekends and your plans for the day. George’s comment about needing to get outside to cut the lawn captured your attention and the sight of him sharply pulling the cord on his lawn mower to bring the motor to life captured your attention out your front bedroom windows. That’s ultimately what got you outside. His bare torso glistening in the bright sunshine was what kept you outside.
It was likely that your staring wasn’t discreet as you pawed dumbly at your empty garden and fleeting weeds, crisp new floral garden gloves on your hands to really look the part. Any advances were halted by the public space of your street you found yourselves on, knowing the gossip of the neighbourhood that could arise with ease, not to mention George’s three-year-old who was entertaining herself on the driveway with a box of chalk. The noise of the gas powered lawn mower disrupted the peaceful suburban street but you would never complain at the view it offered. With your hands distractedly in the dirt, your entire head was turned to the neighbouring property, eyes squinted slightly in the sun but steadfast and focused on the handsome man that blessed your vision.
Your attention was soon torn away from him and to the little girl just beyond as she had stood up from the driveway and was almost skipping across the grass towards you. George kept an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t in the path of his mowing and he slowed down a bit to watch as she approached you. You sat back on your ankles with a friendly smile as the little brunette girl bounded over to you with bouncing curling pigtails.
“Hey, you.” you greeted her sweetly.
She clasped her hands behind her back bashfully and swayed back and forth for a moment in her short denim overalls and white sneakers that were dusted in colourful pastel chalk.
“What are you drawing over there?” you asked.
Nancy held out her hand to you, “Come see.”
You weren’t doing anything in all honesty so her little interruption was welcomed and you removed your garden gloves before letting her take your hand as you stood from the grass. She walked you right over George’s freshly mowed lawn, leaving your footprints behind in the short grass, and soon you were stepping onto the pavement of the driveway. The swirling shapes of colourful chalk filled an impressive amount of the black tar and although most of it was toddler scribbles, you could make out a few stick people and maybe a house or two.
“This is beautiful, Nance.” you complimented as she held your hand proudly, her little fingers wrapped around your index and middle. “I love all the colours!”
She smiled up at you, her eyes as big and beautiful blue as her father’s.
“Hey, wanna do something cool?” you asked.
Nancy nodded.
“Lay down over here in this blank spot.” you guided her over to a clear area of the driveway where she had yet to colour. The three-year-old flopped herself down and laid back so she was flat and you joined her with one of the sticks of chalk. “Now stay nice and still.”
You carefully traced around her with the chalk while she giggled on the ground, so curious as to what you were doing. You spoke to her as you traced her body; going around each leg and along the length of her arms and carefully around her head so as to not snag her hair. When you stood back up, you held your hands out so you could help her up to her feet.
“There,” you gestured to the outline of her body, “A Nancy outline that you can colour and draw clothes on and a face and everything!”
“Woah!” she beamed up at you, “Cool!”
“Think so?” you chuckled, passing over the chalk you held, “Ought to keep you busy, huh?”
“Thank you!” she almost shouted as she dropped to the ground again to get right to work on her silhouette.
The silence that fell over the neighbourhood had you glancing over to the lawn where George had just turned off the mower after completing the front yard. He was absolutely glistening in the sun, skin dotted in sweat from the task of mowing the lawn, and he lifted an arm up to rub his forearm across his forehead to get his hair out of his face. In doing so, his muscles rippled and your teeth naturally caught your bottom lip, feet helping themselves back across his driveway to join him on the grass. He met you halfway until you were standing right in front of each other but his gaze drifted past you to his daughter scribbling away.
“That was a cute thing you did for her there.” he complimented.
You shrugged modestly, “What little girl doesn’t like a little imagination makeover, hm?”
The two of you shared small smiles. There was a pause.
“What were you doing out here?” he asked.
“Gardening.” you answered.
“In your empty garden? In early autumn?”
“Yes.” you crossed your arms over your chest matter-of-factly.
“No other reason?”
You licked your lips but forced yourself not to glance down at his sweaty body standing right before you, “Nope. Just taking care of my property.”
“I see.” George chuckled, certainly disbelieving.
“You know,” you spoke bravely but still keeping your voice down so as to not be heard by little girls or any passing neighbours, “I’m mad at you.”
“Oh?” George set his hands on his hips, “Why’s that?”
“Now Andrew can’t make me fucking cum unless I’m thinking about you.”
His eyebrows peaked for a moment, “Oh, really?”
“Yep. All weekend I haven’t stopped thinking about Friday.”
“Me neither.”
“Andrew came home from work late on Friday night…joined me in bed…and all I was doing was thinking about you and how you made me cum so hard I was shaking.”
“Mm,” George feigned a serious expression upon hearing your confession, “Well, at least your spouse still puts out.”
Your mouth fell open despite your amused smile, “Oh!”
George licked away his grin and glanced towards the street for a moment, his hands sliding into the back pockets of his denim shorts.
But you were right on the response, countering smoothly, “Don’t know why yours wouldn’t when her husband is built like a marble statue and has a tongue that puts linguists to shame.”
He looked right back at you, his eyes dropping to your lips and then to your body before meeting your gaze again, “Don’t know why your husband can’t make his own wife cum on his own when a near stranger got her off twice in one afternoon.”
It was all just flirty playful banter so you weren’t offended in the slightest over someone half dissing your dear husband - especially since it was George of all people. Just having him in front of you made you nervous in the absolute best way and although you weren’t sweaty from working outside like he was, your skin was still burning hot.
Your finger trailed over the thin line of brown hair that led from his navel into his shorts and you offered softly, “Wanna do it again?”
George couldn’t take his eyes off of you, “Do what again? Make you cum?”
You nodded with a soft “mhm”, keeping his lingering stare in the morning sun.
“I’ll be sure to return the favour this time.” you added.
“Oh, really?” George’s soft smirk teased at the corner of his lips, “Is that a promise?”
You knew exactly what you were doing, linking your finger in the belt loop of his shorts to tug on them as you spoke softly but surely right to his face, “Yes, sir.”
George’s breath shuttered slightly and he stepped away from you a bit, “Lemmy put the kid down for her nap and I’ll have a quick shower. Come over in twenty?”
“Don’t shower.” you tisked, “I like you like this.”
With a cock of his head, George asked in such a whisper that you could barely hear him yourself, “Does your husband know you’re this fucking filthy?”
“Maybe I just save it for you.” you countered expertly, both of you turning around together to swap positions on his lawn so you could drift off towards your house and he could do the same towards his.
“Twenty minutes,” he said seriously, “No later.”
You offered him a teasing little two-fingers salute before you were hurrying across your lawn in a near rush. You gathered your wimpy gardening tools (well, more like props) and rushed up your stone steps and right into your house, barely able to kick off your shoes before you were down the hallway and dumping your tools in the sink to keep from dirtying up the spotless house. The stairs pulled you up to your bedroom where you freshened up quickly and made sure you had no grass stains on your jeans or chalk dust on your hands. Then, for the remaining eighteen minutes, you paced your downstairs hallway impatiently.
Making the journey back across your adjacent lawns to George’s front porch was familiar and you took your time so as to not appear too desperate to any possible onlookers from across the street. Nancy’s self portrait was resting beautifully on the driveway and you smiled at it fleetingly and the huge grin she had drawn on herself. Up the few front steps and onto the porch, you knocked three times and stepped back down a step to wait for an answer. Only a few seconds later, George was opening the door for you and ushering you inside, still in his shorts but now donning a white tank top as well.
“Thought I said stay how you were.” you tisked as you stepped inside and he closed the door behind the both of you.
“Felt a little weird tucking my toddler into bed all sweaty and shirtless.” he chuckled as he grabbed the bottom of his tank top and pulled it over his head so it could be tossed onto the bench in the foyer. He made his usual path down the foyer and past the stairs to the kitchen, offering to you over his shoulder as you followed him closely, “Tea?”
“We’re not going to drink it.” you argued lightly.
George turned to face you as he stalked backwards into the kitchen, resting a hand on the counter and the other on the island, “No, but I wouldn’t be a good host unless I offered.”
You pressed a finger between his collarbones and dragged it down between his pecs, “You are already serving me plenty.”
His warm chuckle could be felt under your touch and you bit back your lustful smile as the desire burned stronger within you again. George reached a hand out and tugged gently at the front of your blouse, “I think you have too many clothes on.”
You took his hint and you pulled your shirt off, leaving you standing in your bra and jeans in the middle of his wood trimmed kitchen. The patterned linoleum tile cradled your foot falls as you stepped towards him and urged him backwards with your hand against his chest again, walking in step until he gently hit the counter behind him. George’s eyes bore into yours and the darkness of his pupils kept that lust building inside you until you were sliding a hand up his chest and around the back of his neck and you pulled him closer until your noses brushed. Keeping him waiting, you let the both of you be tortured by the anticipation before your long awaited kiss after your afternoon of passion on Friday.
But after a few seconds, George had enough of it and he grabbed you by the throat and yanked you closer to get his lips right on yours. You had almost fallen right against his chest at the sudden jarring move but you made no motion to complain, clinging onto him gladly as your lips slotted together messily. You shared sloppy kisses in the silence of his house like you had been deprived of each other for months and months. The way he kissed you was erotic in itself and after a few steamy seconds, you tilted your head back to break away from his persistence.
“You okay?” he asked breathily.
You barely offered him an audible response before you were sinking to your knees in front of him and popping the button on his shorts. George shifted in place to stand a bit more comfortably, his hands resting on the edge of the counter behind him as he watched you with his bottom lip between his teeth.
Glancing up at him as you tugged his pants down, you asked, “This okay?”
“Yeah.” he chuckled warmly and kicked his shorts to the side across the floor, “Can’t remember the last time I got a blowjob.”
You tisked pitifully and rubbed your hand over the front of his underwear, following the shape of his hardening cock with your gentle fingers, “Poor, poor man.”
George lolled his head to the side slightly as you touched him, feeling him growing harder with each passing second. His soft pleasurable hums were barely audible but you were extra attuned to him and you looked up his body to his handsome face while your fingers linked in the sides of his boxers.
“If I was your wife,” you pressed a kiss to his abdomen just above the waistband of his underwear before you started to pull them down slowly, “I would wake you up with one every morning.”
George laughed faintly, “You’re an angel on earth, you know that?”
You sent him a little wink as you wrapped a hand around his cock and pressed a wet kiss right to the underside of the tip, pulling a soft groan from his chest before your tongue was following suit. Speaking up to him, you assured him sweetly, “And you have the prettiest dick…who wouldn’t want it in their mouth?”
You shared small smiles before you were wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking on him gently, earning your first proper taste of him. Eyelids fluttering, you moaned softly for more before helping yourself, slowly sinking your mouth deeper around him with your hand securely wrapped around the base of his dick. He was such a good size that you had to open your mouth quite a bit to make sure your teeth didn’t graze him and silently you wondered how it even fit inside you that swiftly the other day.
The excitement of finally having him in your mouth had you drooling and it wasn’t long before your hand was getting slicked up in your spit and it could start to join in on the motions. In slow twisting strokes, your hand kept up the bottom half of his cock while your mouth followed in its pace at the top half, finding a good rhythm together. George exhaled heavily and tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to equally focus on the sensations but also distance himself from getting too into it too quickly.
Positioned on your knees between his feet, you felt so perfectly content, tending to his dick in one hand while your other caressed his thigh and the firm muscles that made up his figure. But soon that hand was moving to join your other and it gently kneaded his balls in your warm palm, eyes glancing up at his face to gauge his reaction. The waver across his expression was paired beautifully with a gentle moan and you took that as your go-ahead. You didn’t need to do much as you just held them with a little bit of grip, your focus being all on his cock instead.
Your mouth craved him deeper and you nestled yourself farther down his shaft until you were gagging faintly around him and picking back up those greedy bobs of your head. The filthy wet sound filled the otherwise silent kitchen and George let out the prettiest moan you had ever heard while he dropped one hand to rest at the back of your head. You lead your motions with your tongue, making sure to touch him in all the right spots every time you dropped your mouth down around him and pulled back with the perfect amount of suction that had his jaw falling slack.
“Fuck-” he chuckled shakily, “Do you kiss your husband with that mouth?”
You pulled off of him with a messy slurp, spit dripping down your chin as you answered his rhetorical question with a proud, “I do more to him than just kiss him with this mouth.”
“Lucky fucking man, holy shit.” George groaned.
“Yeah, you really are.” you spoke up at him from your knees before swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.
His hand on the back of your head pulled you down on him again smoothly and you gladly picked up where you left off, choking yourself on his cock until he was completely coated in your spit and his face mimicked that of an expression you’d find in a dirty magazine. You swore he could have easily taken centrefold in your eyes; maybe you were the lucky one to be on your knees for him like that. But you still gave him your best work that was guided by his hand in your hair and he kept himself quiet through a bitten lip as the pleasurable sounds started to come a little stronger now.
Then he was gently tugging at your hair to get you to let up with a breathy, “Stop.”
You sat back from him and coughed faintly from the absence of him in your throat and you wiped your spitty chin with the back of your hand, “What?”
“Get up.” he grabbed your arm and brought you to your feet, “Bend over.”
The orange countertop of his nearby kitchen island caught you gracefully and you gladly bent forward over it with your forearms against the cool surface. George’s hands worked quickly at the button and zipper on your jeans and yanked them and your underwear down your thighs before stepping right up close behind you.
“Fuck, please.” you exhaled, trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of him.
He bent at the knees slightly just to get that perfect angle to nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt and the first graze had you absolutely shuttering. He teased you a little more as he dragged it up and down a few slow times, speaking to you, “I can’t wait until Nancy starts school so I can fuck you every day of the week, uninterrupted, where we can be as loud as we want.”
The realization that he would be wanting and willing to keep up this escapade for that long and thensome had your heart racing and was just enough of a distraction just before he finally pushed inside you. Your hands fell flat against the island with a tight gasp from your throat and George set his hand on your shoulder to hold you steady as he slipped in deeper. His quiet groan was stiff and rich and you felt your muscles throb around him greedily.
“Yes, please.” you whimpered, even as his other hand wrapped around to press his palm against your mouth. You still managed to mumble against his hot skin, “Please, sir.”
“Oh my God.” he groaned, starting to thrust into you strongly.
Your hands slid across the smooth countertop to wrap around the sides of the island, gripping onto the edge of the counter tightly as he helped himself to your body. You were already soaked for him and he was dripping in your spit, meaning that right off the bat his otherwise quiet kitchen was privy to the lewd wet sounds of your cunt taking every inch of him with every hard thrust. The reverberations could be felt right up your spine and you gaped against his palm as you stared straight ahead at the fridge on the opposite side of the kitchen, eyes fluttering with the intense pleasure that you had missed so terribly over the weekend.
You tried to stay quiet but the moans that tumbled from your chest were almost completely involuntary and George’s hand tightened over your mouth and he hushed you over your shoulder. He leaned in close almost enough for his body to mould against the shape of yours while he fucked you over the side of the island.
“Get too loud and I’ll stop.” he threatened against your ear.
“No.” you choked out, the simple word muffled by his palm. You reached a hand back to grab his waist behind you, trying to make sure he kept going despite his warning. He was already going so aggressive with it that you could hardly get a good grip on him and you ended up having to slam your hand back down against the countertop. “Please don’t stop!”
“God, you really like it rough, don’t you?” George tisked.
He let go of your mouth and, instead, wrapped his slender fingers around your throat to yank you back towards his chest. You kept your back arched the best you could still with how you now were forced almost straight up and his heavy warm breaths against your ear and your neck were sending you dizzy. Your fingers magnetized to his hair, tangling in the messy and sweaty strands as if in an attempt to pull him closer into you. The filthy clap of his skin against yours was invigorating, falling in steady rhythm with his rough thrusts that made your toes curl against the linoleum tile and behind a bitten lip, you tried to smother your blissful moans the best you could.
“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” George taunted against your ear without missing a beat.
“Not anymore.” you stumbled out.
“Anymore?” George chuckled lowly across your neck, his hand still wrapped snugly around your throat to hold your head back almost against his shoulder, “Could he ever make you feel this good?”
It was hard to think when he was fucking you like that, hard to think back six years when you and your husband were newly acquainted and had the passion of Manhattan and nightlife running through you. It was ages ago now, a lifetime ago even, and it all felt so hazy and muted when George had you like that - it was hard to think of anything else but him.
“Answer me.” he ordered against your ear, still shoving into you in rough strokes that pulled the air from your lungs.
“No, sir.” you said squeakily, “He couldn’t.”
“That’s why you come to me.” George spoke lowly, his hot breath tickling your ear and the nape of your neck in time with his precise thrusts, “That’s why you think of me when he’s fucking you.”
“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, gripping onto the sides of the island again, face screwed up in pleasure.
In a swift movement, he let go of your throat in exchange for a grip at the back of your neck and he pushed you right down onto the island so you were bent over it properly, your cheek pressed against the cool countertop. You gasped sharply in surprise but didn’t object, almost thrilled by the weight of his hands holding you down and the edge of the counter digging into your upper thighs. Giving up control to him was so easy and so ridiculously rewarding, you were already so addicted.
“Look at us, just fucking using each other.” George spoke down to your through his teeth, his focus narrowed in on the motions of his hips as he rammed into you hard over and over again, “Can’t remember the last time I had a perfect fucking pussy like this to just have my way with.”
“It’s yours.” you stumbled out, “I’m yours.”
“Uh huh.” George’s hand tightened on the back of your neck and his other pressed you stronger down against the counter between your shoulder blades. If you could have seen him, you would have been blessed by the sight of his face taken by intense pleasure, his head tilting back to look up at the ceiling with a mouthed curse in near disbelief. But then he was looking back down at you bent over for him, held down under his hands so willingly, and he audibly moaned, “Fuck, yeah, you’re mine.”
The angle he had you at was so good that you swore you were seeing stars, feeling him in every inch of your body like he was completely taking you over. It was lust to an extent you had never felt before and you could only gape dumbly across the kitchen as he held you down and fucked you until your thighs were quivering. The gasping moan that fell from your chest even took you by surprise as your insides churned with pleasure and you could feel yourself tightening up around him, squeezing his entire cock until that warm pressure that spread across your hips had you drooling.
“I’m gonna cum-” you warned shakily, knuckles turning white with how tightly you gripped the edge of the countertop.
“Go on then.” George encouraged.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you squeaked, scrunching your eyes shut tightly as it kept building and building inside you.
George didn’t move an inch as he kept going exactly how you needed even if he was starting to get a little worn from the intensity of it all. His deep groans were invigorating and his hands on your body drew fire across your skin and you kept yourself in the moment with absolute ease.
You were a messy chant of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and other unintelligible words you could hardly remember saying. And, when he made you cum, your entire body shuddered against the counter and you bit down onto your own forearm to keep yourself quiet as your eyes literally rolled shut and the sounds poured from your mouth without mercy. George had already been close enough by your mouth so it didn’t take him long to follow after you, sent into waves of pleasure himself by the addicting vice-like grip of your cunt that literally pulled the orgasm from his body.
He slumped over you a little as he shoved hard into you, his hair falling over his eyes as he came inside you with rich wavering grunts. The feeling of him spurting warmly inside you had you wriggling back on him some more, grinding against his cock to make sure he was giving you every last drop as deep as he could. His hands left your body to set on the countertop on either side of you as he leaned down to kiss your neck softly, humming faintly in the tapering off of his orgasm that he shared with you.
“Fuck.” you huffed, shuffling your forearms under you so you could get your chest off the counter enough to find his lips with yours over your shoulder for a few breathless kisses.
“Was that what you wanted?” he teased as he pulled away from your sloppy kiss.
“Mm, mhm.” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to hide your smile, eyes flicking between his gaze and his swollen plush lips. You reached a hand up to pull his face back in for a few more off-centered kisses before he was standing up properly again.
George carefully pulled out and then shuffled up your jeans for you, giving your bum a little smack over the denim and the surprise had your muscles fluttering enough to feel yourself leaking into your underwear. How dirty and glorious.
“Do I have your permission to shower off this sweat now?” he asked as he gave your hips a squeeze, letting you catch your breath for a moment as he stood in the nude behind you.
You stood yourself up straighter too, leaving your hands resting aimlessly on the orange countertop as you replied to him over your shoulder, staring him right in the eyes, “Only if I can join you.”
George’s little smirk that grazed his expression had you turning around to face him and you slung your arms around his shoulders to pull him right up close to you, chest to chest. His hands fell to your waist and he leaned in to pull a few slow kisses from your lips before he answered in a whisper, “Okay.”
Upstairs in the Russell’s bathroom, you found yourself almost too easily dropping your clothes onto the tile floor while George started the water in the shower. He had made sure to lock the door just in case his napping three-year-old woke up from down the hall and came looking for him. The cassette player radio sat on the blue bathroom countertop, the metal antenna angled upwards to gather the radio station signals through the steamy warm air as the shower water grew hotter. The modest bathroom was easily filled with the quiet music of that month’s hits as you stepped into the porcelain bathtub together and George pulled the geometric shower curtain closed behind you.
Still buzzing from your hookup in the kitchen, you shared grinning smiles as your arms swirled around each other; George taking to your waist and you taking to his shoulders. Your chests pressed together closely until water was building in the crevice between your breasts and his pecs and trailing down your naked bodies. His lips were completely addicting to you and you kissed him with every ounce of passion you had in you, even as he kept up expertly with your eager pace. The radio and the shower muted the sounds of your kisses, sending you into a steamy cloud of white-noise isolation together.
After a few moments, you pulled away from his plush lips with a sigh, “Is this too domestic?”
George licked his lips with a sigh of his own and a passive response, “I dunno. I’ve never done this before.”
You smiled, “Me neither.”
“Haven’t gotten my hands on a manual for the right way to cheat on your spouse.” he whispered.
You tangled your hand on the back of his wet hair and pulled his mouth back on yours for a few more kisses, speaking to him between them, “Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty?”
George’s lips dusted across your cheek, “I dunno.”
“Because it feels good.” you mumbled, tilting your head to the side as he kissed down your neck and your eyes fluttered shut, “It feels really fucking good.”
“Mhm.”
“Friday was my wedding anniversary.”
His kisses halted on your neck for a moment as your words settled in the steamy shower around you. He lifted his head up to look you in the eye, searching for your feelings in your expression, his mouth formed in a small ‘o’ and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle. You reached up to gently caress the crease between his brows away.
“I forgot.” you confessed, “Andy brought me home flowers and everything like he always does. He really tried to make me feel special but all I could think about was you.”
“I’m sorry.” George stumbled out.
You tisked softly and slid your hands down his chest, “What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”
“I dunno.” he said for the nth time since you stepped in the shower, pulling you closer by your waist as if being chest to chest wasn’t close enough, “I just feel like I need to say it.”
“Well, you don’t.” you promised and leaned in to kiss him once, “I promise.”
“And promise me that if this gets too much that you’ll tell me and we’ll stop.” George insisted politely, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”
“My gosh, and I don’t want to ruin yours.” you tisked, taking his face in your hands to pull him in for more kisses.
You shared the warmth of the shower water together, kissing slowly under the steady stream, hands roaming naked bodies like it was something you had done for years. You swore that there was no way he could ruin your life. Right there, just how it was, was so perfect. That silly no-strings-attached affair with your neighbour of all people made life feel vibrant and new and worthwhile again. You had once thought that life was beautiful and perfect but it wasn’t until you had a taste of what could have been that you started to see tears in the fabric of your marriage. Maybe there was a way to have the best of both sides.
You pulled away from George’s lips with one more kiss and you bumped your nose against his, offering in a whisper behind the symphony of music and water, “Turn around. Lemmy wash your back.”
He let you, facing away from you against the shower wall to give you a trusting view of his naked body. You took the washcloth and soap and lathered him up under gentle hands, caressing each curve of his figure in sudsy circles that the warm water washed away with ease. You kissed the back of his neck and stood right up close behind him so your skin was pressed to his, taking your time on his handsome body to give it the loving attention it so deserved. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, warmth from more than the steamy shower water ghosting across your skin, and you couldn’t help yourself but wrap your arms around his waist and lean your cheek against his shoulder blade.
How could something so morally wrong feel so right?
“Two tickets to Crimes of Passion, please.”
“That’ll be $6.72.”
Andrew shuffled through his wallet to pull out some bills and he slid them through the opening in the glass of the box office. The attendant counted the money and then turned to collect the tickets. As she did, you slid your hand around your husband’s arm and leaned closer to him habitually, thrilled to finally be on an adult-only date with him after so long. One of the older sisters to one of Richard’s teammates babysat in her spare time and it was about time you took her up on that offer. Your steamy fling with the neighbour seemed to have drifted from your mind as you settled into your date night; holding hands in the car and standing close together at the box office. Just a reminder of the simplicity of life and how much you still loved your husband.
The box office attendant returned the change to Andrew and slid you your tickets with a flat, “Enjoy the show.”
You thanked her in unison and then Andrew was leading you towards the doors of the theatre. He held the door for you so you could go in first and your hands naturally found each other as you approached the concession stand. Stopping a few feet away on the multi-coloured geometric patterned carpet, you eyed the menu above the counter to decide on what to order. You were so focused that you didn’t notice Andrew staring at you until you were startled by his quick kiss to your cheek.
Glancing over at him, you chuckled, “What was that for?”
He shrugged, “No reason.”
You wanted to reply with something flirty until your eye was caught by someone disappearing into the theatre, someone who you swore looked a lot like George. Stunned to silence, you just turned back to the concession stand as your husband guided you by the hand to the cash register. He ordered you a popcorn to share and two Cokes and you also added on a box of sour patch kids gummies.
Andrew tisked fondly at your order as the cashier totalled it up, “Just like our first date.”
You just leaned into him warmly and rested your cheek on his shoulder.
Once the snacks were paid for and in your hands, you headed towards the double doors leading into your corresponding theatre as written on your ticket. The trailers were already playing as you entered and the dimly lit theatre welcomed you in. The seats were only about half full and as you started to make your way up the stairs to find a row, someone waving caught your eye. Sure enough, what you had figured was a hallucination was actually reality, as George and his wife were there as well and they were waving you over with smiles.
You glanced back at Andrew, “Do you wanna sit with them?”
“Sure. I don’t mind.” he nodded.
You led the way into their row and you all greeted each other politely, your spouses ignorant to the way you and George stared at each other just a little longer. Since you entered the row first, you were in the seat between George and Andrew; a perfect metaphor for your current internal dilemma you were faced with.
“Fancy seeing you two here.” George greeted as you got settled.
He was holding his wife’s hand on the arm rest between them, unmoving even as you joined them.
“Great minds think alike.” Andrew replied with a smile, “A good ol’ Saturday kid free night.”
“Did you get a babysitter too?” you asked them.
“Yeah,” Jennifer nodded, “One of the sisters of one of the boys on James’ baseball team.”
“Us too.” you chuckled.
“Really great minds then.” George concluded.
You had to force yourself not to look at his soft smiling lips. You all turned to the screen.
Once your snacks were arranged and you were comfortable, Andrew tucked his arm around your shoulders and you tried not to think about the way George stared at you as you scooted a little closer to your husband. You were there on a date after all and you hadn’t expected to see him there, yet alone be sitting beside him.
It wasn’t long until the movie started and the theatre was dimmed into near perfect darkness, illuminated by only the light of the screen and the flickering scenes. Almost right away, the underlying theme of the film was apparent and its ‘R’ rating was very obvious as the salacious plot was layered on thickly. The main character - although a prostitute - was torn between two men who both shared sufficient love scenes with her that had you shifting in your seat. Hitting a little too close to home.
George nudged you as if sensing your slight unsettledness and when you looked over at him, he held out the yellow box to you with a soft, “Raisinets?”
You smiled fondly at him and reached into the box to take a few, “Thanks.”
When you offered him some sour patch kids in return with a tip of the box, his eyes lit up, “My favourites.”
Jennifer elbowed him from his other side, “Shh.”
Andrew glanced over at the three of you for a second before looking back to the screen, unbothered by you shaking some of the gummy snacks into George’s open palm. Then, you turned back to the movie yourself, munching on your shared handful of Raisinets, comfortable under your husband’s arm.
It was hard to focus on the movie as every passionate and dark scene that played in front of you had your mind straying, torn between the men you were sandwiches between, although the memories with the one on your left were more recent and much more thrilling. Your brain whispered to you that you and George could have recreated this movie. You shifted again to hush your mind.
A slight graze against your thigh had you looking down to your lap, only to see George’s hand underneath your shared armrest with his fingers ghosting along the side of your jeans. You licked away your smile at his sneaky move and slowly inched your hand off your lap to join his between the two of you. His pinky brushed against yours without turning his attention away from the film like a real professional and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to hide your smile as you linked your pinky with his.
Sizzling electricity flowed between the two of you and you could feel it tingling up your arm. Your small diamond ring on your left hand nudged against his knuckle as if as a reminder of what sins you were committing together. It was all expressed in the film playing in front of you, shoving right in the faces of your oblivious spouses. Your discreet touches were so risky but, like everything you found yourself with George, you couldn’t seem to stop.
Once the movie was done and the lights were back on, you separated once more and you turned your attention away from each other and to your spouses. Andrew retrieved the empty bag of popcorn from the ground as the credits rolled up the screen and he looked over at you as you collected your purse.
In a hushed voice, he confessed to you in an amused tone, “That film was so dirty that I swear it almost got me hard in the cinema.”
“Oh my gosh.” you laughed, trying to ignore the near puddle you were sitting in more thanks to your sneaky neighbour than the film, “You’d have to put on your own little movie then.”
Andrew licked away his smile and gave you a little nudge, “Very funny.”
“I’d pay to see it.” you teased as you stood up from your seats.
He just wrapped his arm around your shoulders again and pulled you close to kiss your cheek and then the corner of your mouth and before he could get your lips, you turned your head to your neighbours smoothly. George was already looking at you and part of you felt embarrassed - embarrassed by the affection of your own husband - but you played it off coolly and asked them how they enjoyed the movie. Jennifer wasn’t crazy about it but George complimented the acting with rave reviews, explaining how it was unlike anything he had seen before as the four of you walked out of the theatre together.
Andrew could barely be more than a few centimeters away from you the entire walk to the parking lot and when his arm grew tired around your shoulders, his hand fell lazily into yours instead. It was rare that he was so publicly affectionate but you had to admit it was nice - even if you wished George wasn’t there to witness it. It was a strange balance of content and guilt and embarrassment that you forced yourself to pull the positives out of.
You said goodbye to your neighbours once you had to part ways to your respective cars and you had to stop yourself from habitually moving in to give George a hug. Your mind whirled as you climbed into the passenger seat of your station wagon and Andrew walked around the other side to get behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition but let the engine run as he turned to you instead.
“This was a really fun night.” he confessed.
You lolled your head to the side to look at him with a small smile, “It really was.”
“We should really do this more often. And if we now have neighbour friends that want to double date, that’s even better.”
You swallowed your pride, “Yeah, for sure.”
Andrew leaned in and his hand ghosted across your cheek to guide your lips to his, melting into slow tender kisses in the front seat of your family car. You could taste the intent behind his kiss and you smiled against his mouth as he pulled away for a moment.
“Mm, I need to take you to dirty movies more often.” you giggled, pressing a gentle hand to his chest over the fabric of his tank top tucked under his white denim vest, “I like when you’re all touchy and all hot and bothered.”
“Hot and bothered?” he repeated, thoroughly amused, in that sweet accent of his that just made you pull him in again to kiss your smiling lips.
You kissed in the front seat of your car for a few moments with hands faintly pulling at clothes and the back of necks, desperate to get impossibly closer. Part of you didn’t even want to leave the parking lot; just willing to throw caution into the wind and pull him into the backseat with you. But, when you made a move to push his vest off, he broke away from your kiss.
“We gotta go home.” he chuckled.
“But our kid is at home.” you mumbled with a pout as he straightened himself out in his seat, “I wanna be risky with you.”
Andrew kissed you once more before putting the car in drive and his hand fell to your thigh, “Another time.”
It was always another time.
Another time didn’t come all week - at least with your husband. While your spouses were at work, you and George certainly made the most of the empty houses the best you could while he still had to watch his daughter. Because of that, you only managed to get together one afternoon (and almost a second before the three-year-old nearly caught you) but that was enough to keep you somewhat satisfied for the week.
When Friday rolled around, the last thing you had really expected was to be standing in George’s foyer in a party dress. Andrew had a work event that you were actually invited to and you were certainly not going to pass up an opportunity to join him in the city for extra one-on-one time when you could take it. In your periwinkle dress, Richard stood beside you with his small suitcase in hand, ready for his sleepover with James who had just come barrelling down the hallway. The young boys embraced messily and you barely managed to crouch down to get a hug and kiss from your son before he was slipping away to play with his friend.
“Thanks again for having him stay over.” you said to Jennifer as you stood back up.
“No problem at all.” she shrugged. Still in her work skirt and blazer, she hadn’t even had a chance to take off her shoes yet upon her arrival home by the time you showed up. “We’re just glad that James has found such a good friend.”
“And one that just lives next door at that.” you chuckled.
She smiled politely at you and then turned towards the kitchen, calling out, “George! Are you ready? You’re going to make her miss her train at this rate.”
“Yeah! Coming!” he called back.
Then, he was emerging from around the corner, half distracted still with a tea towel still draped over his shoulder.
“Sorry, was just putting the last of the dinner on.”
Jennifer snatched the tea towel off his shoulder as George got his first look at you. He nearly stopped in his tracks although under the eye of his wife, he had to play it off coolly. You held your clutch purse in your hands and had to look away from him to keep from blushing like it was your senior high school prom or something just as ridiculous. The voluminous periwinkle frills of your sleeveless party dress encircled the top hem across the sweetheart neckline over your chest and around to your back, leaving your collarbones exposed to house a string of pearls. The snug bodice followed the shape of your figure into a stitched V-across your hips where the fabric flowed outwardly into a satin skirt that rested around your knees.
“Wow, you look amazing.” George complimented passively, although once he walked past his wife to grab his car keys from the small hook beside the door, his eyes were raking shamelessly down your body.
“Thanks.” you answered softly.
He turned back to Jennifer, “You most likely won’t need to touch the dinner. It should be ready for me to serve when I get back.”
“Okay, good.” she chuckled and they both leaned in to share a brief kiss. “Drive safe.”
“I will.” George opened the door and ushered you outside first.
Although Jennifer closed the door behind the both of you before you had even stepped off the porch, you still walked at a bit of a distance from each other towards the driveway and George’s family car. It was still warm from Jennifer’s drive home from the train station that George was now taking you to.
“Thanks for driving me.” you said as you got in the passenger seat.
“Of course.” George replied as he turned the key in the ignition, “Anything for you.”
His eyes darted towards his house as if scanning to make sure no one was looking out the windows before he reached an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a quick sneaky kiss.
As you both settled back in your seats with giddy little grins, he complimented again, “And you look so fucking beautiful.”
“Thank you.” you breathed, glancing down at the skirt of your dress that was draped out over your lap in stain waves. Your white heels were resting politely on the floor of his car, your knees together, and your hands folded over your clutch purse like a proper lady.
George pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street in the direction of the train station and, as you peered out the window at the passing evening neighbourhood, you couldn’t help but try to figure out the feelings that were burning within you. On one hand, you were excited to see Andrew and have this special night with him and have a chance to reconnect as husband and wife, but, on the other hand, you had George beside you who made your heart race like it was the honeymoon phase all over again. As if reading your mind, George reached across the front seat and set his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his thumb, and the shivers that rose at his touch tingled right up between your legs.
The train station was mostly emptying as commuters from the city were heading home during the peak rush hour chaos. You were one of the few who were heading into the city at such a late time as the others who were on the same page as you were ready for a Friday night out in Manhattan with their friends. That used to be you. How different life was now.
George parked and you looked over at each other with calm smiles, his hand giving your thigh a tender squeeze. In the privacy of his car, you leaned in to kiss his soft lips, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away again. His hand lifted from your lap to the side of your neck as he licked his lips in anticipation and pulled you in for more. You met halfway for a few more close-mouthed kisses with your hands still staying perfectly still on your lap.
When he pulled away, he glanced down at your body, eyes lingering on the strapless dress wrapped snugly around your chest with the frills accenting the sweetheart neckline, “This dress…is unreal.”
“Think it’s okay?” you asked, reaching up to nudge at some of the frills.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re gonna be the best looking one there.” George draped his arm around the back of your seat, “But that is usually the case.”
You smiled sweetly at him and leaned in for more kisses, easily locking his lips with yours as the passion in his modest car rose by the second. His hand on your face pulled you in to deepen your kiss, his tongue teasing yours, and when you opened up for him, you shared soft pleasant hums of appreciation.
“God, your husband’s a lucky fucking man.” George mumbled between kisses, “He better be showing you off tonight.”
You giggled softly into his mouth, blindly shifting your hand from your lap to his chest and up to his shoulder. His head tilted naturally to the side a little more to deepen your kiss and the way he took control had your insides twirling with desire. Your fingers tangled in the back of his soft hair, tugging gently at the roots to get him impossibly closer, and George moaned softly into your mouth at your insistence.
He pulled away after a few more seconds with a bite to your bottom lip, “Looking like that and kissing me like this…you’re gonna send me home to my wife with a boner.”
You smiled proudly and whispered against his lips, “And she won’t even do anything to help.”
George chuckled lightly and gave you a few more kisses before answering, “No. I’ll have to have a wank in the shower and think of you.”
You broke away from his kiss with your hand sliding down to his chest to put some more space between you, glancing down to his lap habitually before saying, “I’d offer to just bend over and fix it myself if I didn’t have a train to catch.”
George’s hand around your neck startled you pleasantly as he tugged you in for more sloppy feverish kisses and your fingers tightened on the material of his t-shirt. He kissed you like it was the last time you were going to see each other, like he wanted to make sure you didn’t forget him, and his tongue helped himself to your mouth between ungraceful impolite kisses. Dizzy from the way he kissed you, when he let you break away, you were panting despite the grin plastered across your face, lipstick slightly smudged and cheeks flushed pink.
You pulled down the sun visor in his car to clean up your makeup and he watched you with his hand on your thigh as you opened your clutch purse to reapply your lipstick and powder quickly. His hand squeezed your thigh and slid up your skirt and back down tauntingly until you had to nudge him away.
“I’ll see you.” you said with a smile as you opened the door.
“See you, gorgeous. Have a good night.” George wished you off as you climbed out of the car.
You leaned back into the car and pointed a warning finger at him, “Take good care of my boy.”
He grabbed your finger and pulled you closer to leave you with one more kiss, staining his lips in the fresh application of your pink lipstick, before he promised you with a soft, “Of course.”
You almost didn’t want to leave him but with a final wave through the windshield as you headed towards the station building, you hurried on your way. After buying your ticket and finding your seat on the train, you forced yourself to look forward to the man who was waiting for you at your destination despite the uncomfortable ache that burned between your legs for the man who had dropped you off. Torn between two and managing to play it off, life felt thrilling.
It was about an hour to Grand Central Station and, as promised, Andrew was waiting for you in the main terminal. You saw him from the top of the stairs, leaning against one of the old stone walls that framed the impressive arched atrium amongst the bustling Manhattan crowd around him. He spotted you at almost the same time and with a warm smile, pushed himself away from the wall to meet you as you reached the bottom of the stairs.
“There’s my girl.” he greeted sweetly as your hands naturally found each other’s and he gave you a brief kiss before taking a second to admire you in your dress, “You look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you, honey.” you smiled.
“How was the train ride? Alright?”
“It was fine.” you kept one hand in his as he started to lead you off through the busy station to the main doors, “How was work?”
“Lowkey, which was nice for once. Just getting set up for the party tonight, mostly.” Andrew said.
You emerged outside together into the crazy chaos of Manhattan as the sun set behind the skyscrapers and the lights and sounds of the city guided you towards the crosswalk. Standing together on the curb, hand in hand, you scooted a little closer to him and tucked your free hand around his bicep just to be closer. It was thrilling to keep the secret that before you got on the train you were making out with another man in his car and, now, you were the perfect image of husband and wife back in the city where you met. And Andrew was completely clueless.
“I’m glad you could come.” he spoke to you behind the noise of the city.
You looked at him fondly, “Me too.”
His office building wasn’t too far away from Grand Central Terminal and after only a brief walk, you found yourselves in the elevator and headed up to the floor. Andrew reminded you about the context of the party - that it was one of the higher up’s retirement party - and he was going to make sure to introduce you around so you knew who was who. It had been a while since you had been around his co-workers and although you knew them somewhat, there was a lot that had changed apparently.
As promised, once out on the office floor surrounded by nicely dressed employees and a few celebratory streamers and balloons, framed in floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the New York wonder around you, Andrew took you around by the hand and introduced you proudly as his wife to his co-workers. A few recognized you but a few others had to be filled in but were generally nothing but polite. Some of the higher ranking individuals made sure to praise Andrew’s hard work well to you - as if you didn’t already know - to which your modest husband went a little pink in the cheeks and brushed it off with a smile.
It wasn’t long before the introductions and brief discussion about families and kids naturally fell into conversations about work. By then you had a drink in your hand with your other tucked in the crook of Andrew’s arm as you stood at his side while he chatted. Time and place called for work talk since there wasn’t much else that made sense to talk with co-workers about but you couldn’t help but hide a yawn behind your glass before playing it off with a lengthy sip. The fruity alcohol burned slightly as you finished the last bit in the bottom of your icy glass and your bored mind kept straying to George and what you had gotten up to in his car earlier. Lingering in that unfulfilled puddle of desire, it was easy to transfer that need towards your handsome husband in his collared button up and tie.
You tugged on his arm gently and when he looked over at you, you whispered to him, “Come get another drink with me?”
Andrew looked back to the small group he had been mingling with, “Excuse us.”
He took his hand out of his pocket to intertwine your fingers as you walked together across the office floor towards the glass framed conference room where the table was stocked full of drinks and food. There was even a hired bartender that had a cooler with him and could mix up a few simple drinks if you wanted and that was where you went first, asking for a refill on your cocktail while Andrew grabbed a small plate and picked at the snack arrangement of finger sandwiches and vegetables and dip.
With your drink in hand, you joined him with a sigh, “I’m starving.”
He offered out a slice of carrot to you and you ate it out of his fingers before he added a few more to his plate, “I got us a few things to share.”
Your hand slid over his shoulders and down his back and you whispered to him softly against his shoulder and the blue fabric of his button up shirt, “You look so unbelievably handsome tonight.”
Andrew offered you a smile in reply, his brown eyes shining, but before he could answer, everyone was called out to the main office space by the CEO clinking his fork against his glass. The two of you joined the rest of the large group and lingered near the back to share your small plate of snacks while the CEO spoke highly about the retiring individual and all that he had accomplished for the company.
Although you didn’t care much about the man who was retiring since you hardly knew him, you were there to support Andrew and that’s where your attention lay. Once your plate was empty, Andrew had his arm around your waist to hold you close at his side with his gaze on the speech going on across the office. You set your hand on his back and trailed ghostly twirling shapes up his spine and back down and when he glanced at you, you just smiled softly at him.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
You merely nodded and he kissed your cheek.
The speeches wrapped up not long later and the music was turned louder to really begin the party. Some people even started dancing while most lingered around to mingle and chat and there were more than a few wives in attendance who looked as bored as ever, hearing their husbands drone on about work talk.
“Andy,” you glanced back at your husband, “can we sneak off for a bit?”
“Sneak off?” he chuckled, “What for?”
You were so obviously staring at his lips but you forced your eyes to his when you made some passive excuse, “It’s just a little loud. Can I see your desk?”
Andrew smiled widely and set the empty plate down on the random desk you had been leaning against together and he took your hand, “Alright. Right this way, my lady.”
Although the music from the party was played through the office speakers, the farther away from the large group you walked, the less the added noise of conversation interfered with your mind. Across the stretch of the office floor, Andrew led you by the hand towards his desk and weaved through the endless rows of desks and chairs and filing cabinets to get there. Near the middle of it all, he fell to a stop in front of a desk that looked just like all the others with a small chunky Macintosh computer monitor and a neat row of files.
You helped yourself to his desk chair and you leaned your arms on his desk to admire where he spent more time than he did with you. The framed wedding photo of the two of you was set right in your line of vision and you reached over to pick it up with a smile. You could see the slight bump of growing Richard that was not quite hidden well enough under your white fall dress in the picture taken outside the New York City city hall. Andrew leaned back against his desk beside you, watching you admire all his little belongings he had at his desk to make it feel more personalized and homey. When you set the wedding photo back down, you smiled at the baby picture of Richard right beside it, your little boy sitting happily on the floral couch in your tiny apartment almost four years ago.
“What do you think?” he asked.
You looked up at him from your spot in his chair, “Very nice.”
“Yeah?”
You glanced at the small box-like monitor in front of you, “You even have a computer!”
“Really neat, isn’t it?” Andrew tapped the top, “It really speeds up our work sometimes. Truly incredible.”
“And you have pictures.” you gushed, sliding a hand across his desk again to poke at the wedding picture.
“Of course, I have pictures. I always like having you around.”
You looked up at him and he lifted a hand up to gently caress your cheek with his thumb, his simple touch swirling that strange mixture of lust and guilt around in your stomach. Searching for a distraction for your mind, you stood up from the chair and situated yourself in front of him, standing between his feet in his dress shoes and his hands found your waist. You leaned against his chest as he was resting back on his desk and your arms draped around his shoulders, letting your lips capture his softly.
In the quiet corner of the office separate from the rest of the party going on only a few metres away, you kissed slowly at his desk, arms around each other so tenderly. It was so easy to kiss him; you had the history together that made it easy. You moved so well together like it was a rehearsed dance and every move was anticipated, knowing just how he would tilt his head and just about when his hands would move across your waist. His palms took to the curve of your ass over your satin dress and with a gentle squeeze of your flesh, you were moaning softly into his mouth, tugging at the back of his neck to get him to kiss you harder.
“Okay, sugar,” Andrew chuckled out of your kiss as he turned his head away from you, “We should go back.”
You peppered kisses across his cheek, staining his skin in faint lipstick prints, making your way back to his lips, ignoring his pitch. He kissed you a little longer, pulling you right up against his body greedily as he did, and you could have stayed there for hours.
“Seriously,” Andrew patted your bum to get you to let up after a few more seconds, “we can’t do this here.”
“Take me to the bathroom.” you pitched, batting your mascara lined lashes at him as your hands dragged down his chest.
Andrew grasped your wrists in his hands, “We have a whole empty house waiting for us later.”
“But that’s later.” you said, “This is now.”
“This is also my office.” he whispered to you, “My boss can turn the corner at any moment or walk into the bathroom at any moment. We can’t afford for me to lose this job.”
You pouted, “Right.”
“When we get home,” he said against your cheek, “I promise.”
“Do you?”
It was out of your mouth before you could think about it, sounding so doubtful of his word right to his face, but who could blame you?
Andrew blinked at you in half surprise and he nodded once, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Yes. I promise.”
You pulled a tight smile and nodded back, brushing it under the rug until he would be able to really follow through, and you stepped away from him with your hands falling into his, “Come dance with me then.”
Andrew pushed himself away from the desk with a loving smile and let you pull him back towards the party and the noise of the office. Once you were back amongst the crowd, your hands joined and you moved together to the upbeat music with his co-workers, not unlike how you would share late night dances in Manhattan clubs when you were freshly twenty and freshly met. Only you two in the crowd. Although, your mind couldn’t help but drift to George and wondering what he was doing at that moment.
When the party was over and you both had enough drinks to be slightly buzzed, you and Andrew returned to Grand Central Terminal to catch your train back home. The coach was quite empty at the late hour it was since not many suburbia-folk were leaving the city at nearly midnight; most were long at home and in bed. Because of this, you had your train car to yourself as it trekked along out of the city and towards the quiet outskirts and the tamer life on the border of Connetiticut.
Your feet were tossed up on Andrew’s lap beside you and his hand was running up and down your shin carelessly as you stared at each other and eased into the uncomfortable train seats. You broke your momentary silence first with a soft, “Tonight reminded me of when we were younger and cooler.”
Andrew smiled over at you with a playful scoff, “Speak for yourself. I’m still cool.”
“Sometimes.” you humoured him.
He gently pulled one of your heels off and helped himself to your foot, pressing his thumbs into the sole to give your tired and sore feet a massage. You watched him for a moment, debating delving into a conversation that had been on your mind for a while, but the liquid courage in your system helped to answer that question.
“Do you miss life before Ritchie?” you asked him.
Andrew looked up at you again with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? I love our son, I can’t imagine life without him.”
“I know, I know. Me too.” you assured him easily, “I just mean…when we didn’t have the responsibilities we do now. When we could go out - no questions asked - on a Friday night and dance at clubs until we could hardly stand and come back to our shitty little apartment and fuck like rabbits.”
“My God.” Andrew laughed, habitually glancing down the train car as if to make sure no one could hear your confessions. He looked back at you, “I mean, sure, I miss that - it was fun and thrilling and everything - but I don’t miss it more or less than what we have now. We have a family together now, sugar, isn’t that wonderful? A family and a house of our own and you’re my wife. It’s different, but it’s just as good in its own way.”
You looked down, picking aimlessly at the frills along the top of your dress.
Andrew gave your ankle a squeeze, concern in his voice, “Do you not feel the same?”
“I dunno.” you shrugged, “I am happy. I am so unbelievably happy that we have Richard and that I have you and we have that absolute dream of a house to call our own. That part is so wonderful and I am so thankful for you for working so hard to be able to provide us with all the niceties.”
“But?”
“But I…” you sighed, trying to find the right words.
Andrew kept his concerned gaze on you, reaching out for your hand to hold reassuringly and you linked your index finger with his over your thighs.
“I miss the passion.” you whispered, speaking to his hand on your lap, “I miss when making love wasn’t just boring old people missionary that lasts three seconds. It’s like we got married and had a kid and now we’re stupid celibate senior citizens or something. It used to be so good. It used to be incredible.”
Andrew had a gentle pout on his face when you finally glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He rested his head against the train seat, the darkened nature whizzing past behind him through the large windows as he focused all on you, and his other hand caressed your thigh just under the hem of your dress, “I’m sorry.”
You shook your head, “You don’t have to say that.”
“I miss it too.” Andrew confessed, “I just…I just feel old now. Almost like moving to this bigger place has completely exhausted me and I feel so guilty for not giving you what you need. Even when you ask for it, I’m so worried about letting you down that I just shut you out instead.”
“You can’t let me down.” you promised, leaning forward towards him to kiss the corner of his mouth before resting back in place in your seat, “I’m trying to be more understanding because I know work demands so much of you and I never want you to feel like it’s a chore.”
“Oh,” Andrew scoffed with a smile, “Sex with you is never a chore.”
You gave his hand a little tug, “Sometimes it feels like it’s done because it has to, not because we want to. That’s when it feels like a chore.”
“What can I do?” he asked genuinely.
You thought for a moment, shamelessly thinking about the prior three weeks with George and all the magical afternoons you shared, while also thinking back to life when you were newly dating and everything was so fresh. You smiled softly at it all before answering, “Be rougher with me.”
Andrew’s worried expression melted into amusement and he turned his head away from you for a second with a smile he tried to lick away before he was looking back at you and his warm brown eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes.
“Being soft is nice sometimes but…you know how I like it. Be really demanding and rough with me and toss me around.” you slid your foot back from his lap and gently rubbed it over his inner thigh and across the front of his slacks, “And surprise me with it…come up behind me in the kitchen or something. Remember that one time in the apartment?”
Andrew chuckled softly, “Yeah…you broke two plates. The set was a gift from my mum.”
“Yeah.” you laughed faintly, “Make me break more important shit. That’s what I want. That’s the passion I want.”
“Well,” his hand that wasn’t linked with yours trailed up your shin and back down in ghostly touches as your bare foot rested on his thigh, “we do have the house to ourselves tonight…and I did make a very important promise to you earlier, did I not?”
You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, “Mhm.”
Andrew leaned towards you slightly, his hand sliding farther up your leg until it was disappearing under the skirt of your dress, “And you are so unbelievably beautiful tonight. Won’t be difficult to hold up my promise.”
You reached out and grabbed his tie and yanked him closer messily by it, forcing his lips on yours in an ungraceful kiss. His hand lifted from under your dress to the side of your neck to hold you close, melting effortlessly into your touch after your years together, sharing in the passion on the empty midnight train. The hints of his promise could be tasted on his lips and tongue and you tugged a little harder at his tie until he was almost completely leaning over you, his hand in yours pulling away to slide along the inside of your thigh and up under your dress, teasing you with ghostly touches that made you shiver.
The call for your stop through the speaker system interrupted you and you pushed your husband away with a giddy grin and a lick to your lips that were smudged with your lipstick. Just like George’s had earlier, Andrew’s mouth was also dotted in the faint pink hue and you turned your smile away from him at the realization that you had two men completely claimed by you, enamoured by you, and you selfishly were thrilled by the entire concept.
Andrew followed you off the train and then took your hand for the walk across the darkened and nearly empty parking lot to your family car. You walked right across the empty parking space where George had kissed you goodbye earlier and you swore it rose a shiver up your spine at the mere memory. Since then, you had been absolutely burning for touch and Andrew’s promise lingered in the front of your mind and stayed ever present by the way he nearly pulled you by the hand across the parking lot.
The drive home was silent apart from the radio and once Andrew pulled into your driveway by the light of the single porch lamp you had left on, your gaze shifted to the neighbour’s house. It was dark, all the lights off and everyone asleep at the very late hour it was. You silently wondered if Jennifer managed to get over herself long enough to put out.
“Coming?”
Andrew’s voice startled you out of your thoughts as he climbed out of the driver’s side and leaned back down into the car. You only smiled at him and gathered your purse to hurry after him along the front walk and up the stone steps and into your house, letting the door close behind you.
You had barely had a chance to put your clutch purse down on the console table inside the floral wallpapered foyer before Andrew was coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you right back against his front. Smiling into the entryway of your darkened house, illuminated by only a single lamp left on in the living room, you set your hands over his arm around your waist and his other hand gently brushed your hair over your shoulder so his lips could have access to your neck. You tilted your head to the side slightly to give him room to kiss across your skin, trailing slow open mouthed kisses along your shoulder and right up under your ear.
“Oh my God.” you chuckled breathily, finally assured that he really was going to keep his promise.
Andrew’s soft moan against your neck had your mouth falling open slightly, eyelids fluttering as you basked in his warm kisses in all the right spots on your neck, and his hands caressed your hips and around your waist. He pulled you back on him a little harder and you habitually leaned forward just the very slightest amount so you could discreetly rub your ass back against the front of his slacks.
“That’s it.” he breathed against your ear, hands sliding up your body still tucked in the flattering bodice of the periwinkle dress until he reached your chest. He kept kissing your neck while his familiar hands traced the curve of your breasts over the frilly top of your strapless dress and soon he was pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest to your empty house.
You reached a hand back to slide around the back of his neck and into the ends of his dark hair, holding his face in your neck as he licked over your soft skin and kissed up under your ear while his hands groped your breasts possessively. The metal of his wedding ring grazed your warm skin and reminded you of your devotion to each other, almost allowing your neighbour to be completely forgotten from your mind. It was easy to not think of anything else when your handsome husband was moving slowly with you, grinding on each other until you were falling breathless, not unlike how you spent a lot of Friday nights in the clubs of Manhattan before responsibilities took over.
But then he was grabbing your arm and pulling you a few steps over to the open entryway into the living room and he situated you to face the wall, forcing your hands up against the drywall. You leaned your forearms against the flat surface so you could bend over a little more for him, wiggling your ass back against his crotch again. His hand came down in a precise smack against your ass over your dress and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip in anticipation.
“This what you wanted?” he asked lowly.
In the dimly lit house, you were attuned to the sound of his belt being undone and your insides pulsed with desire at what that simple sound implied.
“Yeah.” you exhaled in response to his question.
Your dress was bunched up around your waist next and your husband tugged your underwear down until they rested around your ankles and he stepped up close behind you. His left hand then went around your neck and you hummed contently at his touch, letting him pull your head back enough for him to kiss along your jaw, while under the fabric of your dress you could feel him nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt.
When he pushed inside you steadily, your mouth fell open at the warm pressure it pushed across your hips and his hand tightened slightly around your throat. Andrew’s soft moan against your ear was igniting and you reached a hand back again to pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck. Your tongues met first in off-centered kisses that moulded into your rehearsed dance of swollen greedy lips just as he started to thrust into you properly. Still in your heels, you spread your legs a little wider over the foyer floor, bending forward towards the wall to get him deeper.
“Fuck.” Andrew huffed stiffly, taking his hand from your throat for a grip on your shoulder while his other tried to push up the satin skirt of your dress out of the way. He gave you another light smack to your bum before grabbing a snug handful of your flesh as if to tug you back into his precise strokes, “Just want me to take what’s mine, huh?”
“Yeah.” you exhaled dreamily, lifting your forehead from the wall to turn towards the living room instead, letting your soft pleasant moans tumble from your lipstick-smudged lips.
“My God, you feel incredible.” he groaned, fucking into you a little harder, a little faster.
Once so distracted by him, your attention soon focused on the single lamp in the adjacent living room that cast a warm glow over the carpeted floor and floral couch. Your memory served you well as you thought of your first afternoon with George when he took you into that very same living room and changed your world. You could almost see it now, too, as you stared at the couch, watching you and your neighbour engage in such unspeakable acts while your husband was away at work. Now, said husband was very much present, nestled deep inside you where George had once been, his hands all over your body and his lips meeting your neck again in hot wet kisses.
“Andy…” you breathed.
He rested a hand against the wall you were leaning forward against, taking you over in strong thrusts that nearly had your legs struggling to stay steady underneath you. If it weren’t for the familiar scent of his fading cologne, you would have so easily fallen into the mindset that he was George and you knew you needed to get away from the living room before it ruined your night.
“Andrew…honey.” you tried again, grasping his wrist.
He slowed, heavy breaths falling against your cheek, “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just…” you pushed yourself away from the wall a little which had you backing stronger into him, pulling a small grunt from his chest, “I wanna go upstairs. Want to get out of these stuffy clothes and get my hands on you properly.”
Without a word, Andrew pulled your head back against his shoulder and his lips found yours in sloppy kisses, hands trailing your body before he was guiding you away from him, letting his dick slip out of you, “Okay. Go on then.”
You stepped out of your underwear around your ankles and left them on the floor as your priority was turning around long enough to grab him by his tie so you could pull him after you to the nearby staircase. The living room lamp was left on in your rush upstairs, the darkened second floor welcoming your hurried footsteps across the wood floor and into your shared bedroom that was blessed by the faint light of the street lamps outside your front windows.
You switched on your bedside table lamp and when you turned back to your husband, he was already kicking off his dress shoes and shoving down his pants to the floor. To save time, you helped him to loosen his tie and start on the buttons on his shirt and as you did, his hands slid around your body to unzip your dress. Neither of you had to share a word as your lust for each other took control, breathily heavily together in the comfort of your empty home under familiar touches of your spouse.
When you pushed Andrew’s shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor, you ordered him firmly with an excitable grin, “Get on the bed.”
He obeyed you easily and sat on the side of the bed so he could shuffle himself backwards to the middle and he situated himself back against the headboard, draped out naked for you. His hands went behind his head as he watched you leave your dress in a puddle on the floor and his habitual lick to his lips as you joined him on the bed, naked apart from your pearl necklace, had you smiling cheekily.
“How do you want me?” he asked.
As he tried to move from his spot, you pressed a hand against his chest to stop him, “Like this.”
You tossed a leg over his lap and then spit into your hand so you could reach down and stroke his dick before angling it properly against your cunt. The look on his face was erotic, staring wide-eyed at your hand on him with his bottom lip held snugly between his teeth. And when you sank down on him slowly, his jaw fell slack, face fluttering in pleasure, and he let out the sweetest moan you had heard from him in a long time.
“Oh my God.” he exhaled.
You adjusted your position a little with your feet anchored flat on the mattress on either side of him so you were squatting over his lap and when you started bouncing, his breath caught in his throat. At the pace you set, the erotic clap of your skin filled your bedroom and certainly reached out into the hallway through your open bedroom door; the joys of an empty house were not to be taken lightly. It had been honestly years since you had been on top of him like that and Andrew had been so focused on work and the boring side of life that he forgot how much he had once enjoyed it.
His big brown eyes stared at you like he didn’t want to look at anything else for the rest of his life, hands resting faintly against your thighs to let you do it yourself, gaping up at you in near awe. But the sounds he made were enough to make your heart race. You hadn’t heard him whimper like that for who knew how long and with the house being empty, he wasn’t worried about being too loud.
“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, anchoring yourself against his chest with both hands as your knees ached underneath every bounce of your hips.
“Yes.” he whimpered, his face screwed up in handsome pleasure, dark features shadowed by the warm light of the lamp, “Yes, yes, fuck-”
The broken moans and whimpers that tumbled from his swollen lips were addicting, wavering as if he were near tears, and they only grew louder and more insistent as you kept going, bouncing on his lap harder, faster, until his head was tossing back against the pillows. He moaned richly to the ceiling, eyes squeezing shut, struggling to catch his breath, and his hands tightened on your thighs until you swore he was pressing indentations from his nails into your flesh.
“Knew you missed it too.” you said cheekily down to him as you stopped your motions to grind right down on him.
Andrew reached a hand behind him to grab onto the pillow, still whining through your shared bedroom as you flicked your hips back and forth messily on his lap. He panted underneath you, staring up into your eyes with unmissable lust spread all over his face, and you just had to move back into those greedy bounces to watch how his expression withered under your control. He turned soft so easily when you took over, unlike George who always seemed to have the upper hand even when you didn’t expect it. The thought of George had your eyes squeezing shut to try and keep him out, striving to focus on your husband underneath you and the pretty sounds that he let out.
His fading accent always seemed to get thicker like that, laced into his words more strongly than normal, especially with how his voice whimpered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit-”
“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” you groaned softly, “Wanna make you cum so bad.”
It was as if that line alone flipped a switch in him, reminding him who had been the one to initiate the night after all, reminding him that it was your desires that spurred the need for making the most of this empty house. Andrew sat up under you quickly and wrapped an arm around your back to keep you against him even as he flipped you both over, trapping you underneath him smoothly. Your gasp froze in your chest as he pinned your wrists down beside your head and started fucking your properly without wasting a second.
The air left your lungs for a moment in surprise and you could only gape up at him dumbly for a moment, even as he stared right back down at you with those beautiful brown eyes that you had fallen so deeply in love with. When your brain finally caught up, you heaved for breath in a gasp that was laced in so effortlessly with a moan, head tossing back against the bed with your hands bunching into fists from where he had you held down.
“That’s it.” Andrew praised from above you. “That’s more like it, huh?”
“Fuck!” you squeaked, “Holy shit, yeah, that’s what I want!”
“Yeah?” he chuckled breathily, keeping up that same pace and same angle just to watch how your face contorted in pleasure.
“Choke me.” you begged, “Please, please choke me.”
He let go of your wrists so he could set both hands around your throat, remembering just what you liked from those wild Friday nights in your early twenties. You grasped onto his biceps as he kept his arms straight, your nose scrunching up slightly as that warmth grew inside you so quickly and you linked your ankles together behind his back to keep him close. He was suddenly easily comparable to George with how quickly he was getting you there and, of course, that thought that passed your mind brought you right back to your neighbour’s house when he would rock your fucking world mid-week.
As your eyes shut tightly and your jaw clenched your mouth into a pulled tight line, your mind filled with images and memories of the man next door, almost taking Andrew’s heavy breaths and handsome moans as his. He was just doing everything right that you were getting dizzy, moaning uncontrollably through your bedroom even as the bed squeaked underneath you and the strength your husband was putting out for you. The world easily fell away, hovering you in a blissful world of isolated pleasure.
“Are you gonna cum for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was out of your mouth before you could think, running on pure instinct, initially unaware that you let the title only reserved for George slip past your lips when addressing your husband. Andrew groaned heartily and cluelessly from on top of you, his dark hair falling over his forehead and his hands tightening a little more around your throat.
“Fuck, that’s it.” he said through his teeth, “Cum for me.”
You were right there, so close, desperate to feel those addicting waves of pleasure tear through you. But you were stuck there, lingering right on the precipice, and you desperately reached down to rub at your clit while your husband fucked you into your bedsheets and your mind pictured George all around you. Your moans grew higher and more desperate, your body tensing.
“That’s it, that’s my girl.” Andrew egged you on breathily from over top of you, still shoving into you hard, “Cum for me. Come on.”
George would have dirty talked you right into orgasm and you let the words he once spoke to you take up your mind, letting him talk you into it even from a distance, and in seconds you were falling into that quiver worthy orgasm. It shook right through you, arching your back off the bed and you cried out through the warm air of your bedroom as your fingers pressed into the flesh of Andrew’s bicep. It was a miracle you didn’t moan George’s name when you came from how much he took over your mind in order to get you there but you still slung your arm around your husband’s shoulders and pulled him down on top of you.
“Fuck.” he groaned into your neck, embracing you closely even as his thrusts turned faster and sloppier.
You just had to tighten your legs around his waist, ankles linked and locking him in, although you didn’t need to beg much at all because he made no move against your limited strength to pull out. He came inside you strongly, grinding into you in precise strokes that had you clinging onto him around his shoulders and your fingers tangled in his hair. You shared in the bliss together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and soft pleasurable sounds. Part of you was so caught up in the fantasy that you were almost startled when the man on top of you leaned back from your embrace just enough to look you in the eye and it was Andrew and not George. But you played it off with a smile and he kissed you a few times, giving you both a second to ease out of the waves of pleasure that had just taken you over.
“That was absolutely unreal.” Andrew breathed as he shifted off you and laid at your side, draping an arm across his forehead as you both stared up at the ceiling and tried to catch your breaths. He glanced over at you, “Was that okay?”
A smile perked at your lips, trying to ignore the guilt that bubbled within you over the fact that you still couldn’t get George off your mind, and you told your husband softly, “That was fucking amazing.”
He grinned and rolled over to kiss you once before he was getting up, “I’m so exhausted.”
“I need a shower.” you stated and got up after him, reaching behind your neck to unclasp your pearl necklace.
“This late?” he questioned as he retrieved a pair of underwear from his dresser drawer.
“Yeah? I have train germs and cum all over me.” you pinched his hip on the way past and dropped your necklace onto the surface of the dresser.
“Oh, hardly all over you.” Andrew called after you playfully as you disappeared into the ensuite bathroom, “I was very organized in my delivery, thank you very much.”
“Truly. I am most impressed.” you responded over the sound of the water once you turned the shower on.
You stepped into the shower and let the warm water caress your body, your eyes staring unblinking to the tile wall, wondering where you went wrong in life to find yourself in such a predicament. You had the best husband you could have possibly asked for, who was willing to listen to you and do whatever you wanted, and yet you still couldn’t be properly satisfied without thinking of another man. The water was turned hotter until it made your skin turn red, burning the reminder of your own filthy shortcomings from your conscious.
When you closed your eyes in the heat of the shower, the water washing away the day and the essence of your husband leaking down your inner thighs, all you could think about was George’s hands on your skin, his body pressed against yours in the shower stream, and the yearning to have something that wasn’t yours.
November 1984
Richard looked so small carrying his baseball bag over his shoulder, the body of the bag nearly dragging along the gravel parking lot as he trudged towards the baseball field all set for his big end-of-season tournament. Every time Andrew tried to offer to carry his bag for him, he was met with a very determined ‘no’ from the five-year-old until finally your husband gave up and you shared the responsibility of watching your son figure life out on his own. As always, you proudly carried the cooler full of snacks for the team, making the most out of the last game until next year.
The November air of New England was growing cooler now and the trees were starting to change into their brilliant autumn hues of orange and rich red. Although it had only been a few weeks since you had moved into your new house, nearing three months, the days seemed to speed by - and only more so when you had your neighbour to keep you company while your spouses were at work and your kids were at school.
Said neighbour greeted you with a smile when your little family approached the baseball diamond and he crouched down to offer Richard a fistbump, “All ready for today's big game, all star?”
“Yeah!” Richard grinned back at him, bumping his little hand against his.
“Yeah, we’re gonna kick some butt, aren’t we?”
“Gonna kick butt!” Richard agreed excitedly.
George stood back up and ruffled Richard’s dark hair, “That’s the spirit. Now go on and get warmed up with the team.”
Lugging his bag with him, Richard struggled to run over to the team bench where the other little boys were goofing around in the dirt. As always, George and Andrew shared polite handshakes in greeting and you shared pleasantries with your neighbour not unlike how anyone else would.
“By the way, you both are still coming to the barbeque after the game, right?” George asked, “Most of the team already RSVP’ed but I figured since you don’t have far to travel, that it would be a given to see you there.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Andrew answered.
“Did you want us to bring anything?” you asked politely.
“Just your beautiful selves.” George grinned at the both of you, his lingering glance at you in particular going unnoticed by your husband, “I already have everything ready to go.”
“Think it’s going to be a big celebration?” Andrew asked, “Our team has been pretty good recently.”
“Oh, yeah.” George set his hands on his hips with a playful scoff, “I have no doubt our boys are gonna win. But either way, it’s been an incredible season so there will be something to celebrate regardless of today’s outcome.”
You couldn’t help but stare at him in his blue jeans and navy blue and yellow team t-shirt, the matching branded baseball cap sitting on his head and his biceps causing the short sleeve shirt to pull tight around his arms. With a lick to your lips, you forced your eyes away from him and looked out towards the field where the opposing team was getting into their positions.
“We should let you coach.” you told him, “I will see you at break with the snacks.”
George sent you a smile and a friendly wink, “Looking forward to it.”
Then, you followed Andrew towards the metal bleachers that were packed with other parents and family members who had come to watch the final game of the season. Some of the other mothers whom you had grown somewhat close to over the season had saved you a spot and you and Andrew sat amongst friendly faces that seemed so common in your quaint neighbourhood. It was barely even mid-morning but you were already feeling tired and you watched the game set up in silence, half-listening to the other women chat together while Andrew busied himself with gossip with the other fathers.
Baseball games were always a great way for you to pass the time as you could often stare shamelessly at George while making it look like you were watching your son. Of course, Richard took up the majority of your thoughts but his handsome coach was a close second. That day was no different.
As anticipated, their team won the final game of the season - and thanks to Richard’s last home run that brought two boys back to home plate. You and Andrew literally jumped out of your seats cheering as your son ran around the bases with a huge grin across his face and even George was cheering loudly from the team bench. All the little boys ran into the centre of the field for a big group hug and then they were lined up to shake hands with the opposing team to show their good sportsmanship.
The first thing that Richard did when he ran off the field was make a beeline straight to you and you dropped to your knees to welcome him into your arms as he shouted, “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see me?!”
“Oh my gosh, we sure did! That was so amazing!” you gushed, holding him close.
“Talk about kicking butt, Rich, that was incredible!” Andrew added, couching down for a high five to which your son smacked his little palm against his.
“We are so proud of you!” you finished as you pulled away from your hug to hold Richard’s grinning face in your hands.
But then he was wiggling out of your grasp with a passive, “Thanks!”
He was of the age where his friends were growing in importance and you watched him rush back over to his team to celebrate in their youthful exuberance together. Andrew set his hand on your shoulder and, as you stood up, it slid down to your back so he could pull you close and press a kiss to your cheek.
“He’s getting so big, huh?” you smiled fondly.
“Sure is.” Andrew rested his head against yours.
You nibbled faintly on your bottom lip with an ache in your heart rising to the surface. Richard definitely was growing up and that just meant more and more of a reminder that your first and last baby was slipping through your fingers. You wanted another so badly but maybe it just wasn’t written in your cards.
The post-tournament barbecue was held in the backyard of the Russell’s house and all the families of the boys on the team gathered to celebrate the winning game and the successful season. Carrying little plastic trophies, the boys ran around the backyard together in their baseball uniforms and pretended to fight each other with the trophies as makeshift lightsabers. Meanwhile, the sisters of the team - some slightly older and some slightly younger - played on the swingset and around in the grass and tried to not get stomped on by their adrenaline swelled brothers.
The parents lingered on the spacious back patio and you and Andrew had taken to one of the outdoor couches with cold drinks in hand, chatting amongst the group although both of you tended to listen more than talk. Well, you weren't doing much listening either because across the patio stones was the barbecue where George was grilling up the hot dogs and hamburgers in only his jeans and a white tank top, still with that darned baseball cap sitting over his frazzled hair. With the glass bottle of your Coca-Cola resting against your pursed lips, you stared at him shamelessly, taking in the muscles of his bare arms and the shape of his body that, in private, you were very familiar with.
Jennifer walked out of the back door of their house with a plate of fruit and dip and on her way past, George stepped back from the barbeque to reach a hand out to stop her. She stopped expectantly but when he went in to kiss her cheek, she pulled a frown and stepped away from him, muttering something to him that you couldn’t make out from your distance. George’s eyes followed her to the outdoor table where she placed the spread and then he was staring right at you. Neither of you made any expression to each other or any indication of what was going on in your heads and he just turned back to the barbeque with a quick adjustment of his hat.
You turned to Andrew at your side, his arm still comfortably around your shoulders, and you set a hand on his chest to get his attention, “I’m gonna see if they need help with lunch.”
His sweet brown eyes followed you as you stood up, letting his hand linger in yours for a moment longer, “Alright, love.”
With your Coke bottle in hand, you walked across the patio stones to the smoking barbecue and you situated yourself beside George, “Need any help?”
He smiled softly at you, “Nah. I got this handled.”
You glanced around discreetly before speaking quietly, “Saw her dodge your kiss.”
George scoffed with a shake of his head, his attention focused on flipping the burger patties on the grill, “Yeah. Embarrassing, huh? How revolting I must be to have my own wife not want to kiss me.”
“Hardly revolting.” you countered. “In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
He glanced over at you and licked away his smile, “Brave of you to come over here and flirt with me with all these people around.”
You gaped in mock offence, “I am not flirting.”
“Oh really?”
“I am merely stating the obvious.”
“Which is?”
“That your arms right now look like you could really throw me around and show me a good time.”
“If you’re good, I can prove that to you later.”
“I’m always good.”
George’s gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before he was looking back to the barbeque with a small clear of his throat. You tried not to stare at him for too long but it was hard when he looked so good, somehow looking just as warm and delicious as ever even in the slight breeze of the autumn air. Looking back across the patio, Andrew felt your eyes on him and he looked at you in return, raising his hand up for a little wave. You smiled lovingly at him for a moment before focusing back on George’s grilling and the way his hands worked those tongs like a masterchef.
You pushed yourself away from the barbecue with a quiet, “I’m going to see if your prudish wife needs help inside.”
“Okay.” George laughed, physically restraining himself from smacking your ass on your way off.
Jennifer was inside the kitchen through the single back door, hurriedly arranging the burger toppings onto various plates for people to serve themselves from. At the sound of the door opening and you stepping inside, she glanced up for barely half a second before her attention was back to her work.
“Was wondering if you needed any help.” you asked.
“Yeah, can you take these out to the table?” she thrust a stack of paper plates and napkins at you without so much as a look, “Thanks so much.”
You pulled a tight lipped smile in reply and turned on your heel to leave just as quickly as you had entered. As requested by your gracious hostess, you arranged the plates and napkins on the large glass outdoor dining table and made sure there was going to be room for all the food. Some of the serving dishes were already out there as neighbours had brought some side dishes and you began unwrapping the saran wrap from the top of the bowls of potato salad and coleslaw.
Only moments later, George came up beside you with the platter of hamburgers and sausages and he excused himself politely to squeeze past you but still managed a faint graze of your waist on his way that sent shivers up your spine. Jennifer finished bringing out the rest of the condiments and toppings including buns and soon the crowded backyard was all piled around the outdoor table to eat away the excitement of the morning. The hostess was desperately trying to keep some semblance of order as the children rempaged the table and the adults were not much different. Andrew helped Richard to get his burger all dressed up and although you were sure George’s grilling skills were wonderful, you didn’t feel very hungry. For once, it wasn’t due to guilt.
Standing out the outskirts of the distracted party, you lingered with an empty plate in your hand. George suddenly appearing beside you startled you slightly but his hand on your back eased you quickly.
“Not eating?�� he asked.
“Not really hungry.” you answered without tearing your eyes away from your husband and son.
George grabbed your wrist and leaned in to whisper, “Come with me.”
Completely trusting of him, you let him pull you into the house through the back door and you discarded your unused plate onto the kitchen island as you swept right past it. You didn’t even have time to take off your shoes as he led you down the hallway and right around to the carpeted stairs, nearly taking them two at a time. This wasn’t new and you could tell exactly what his obvious insistence was hinting towards but it had always ever been when your spouses were far away in the city. This was risky.
“George.” you whispered sharply as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and pulled you down the second floor hallway.
He helped himself to one of the doors near the end of the hall, turning the handle and walking right into his bedroom. You had never stepped foot in that room before and part of you didn’t even want to walk over the threshold but he was persistent and he yanked you in after him until you were stumbling against his chest. The wallpapered master bedroom could barely be offered a second of your attention as George swallowed your lips up with his, kissing you like he hadn’t felt real human touch in years. His skin was beautifully warm and he still smelt like the charcoal from the barbeque and the sweat from the baseball game, the complete essence of masculine energy that made you weak.
“George,” you mumbled against his lips, raising your hands to cradle his face, “we can’t do this.”
He didn’t seem to care as he kicked off his sneakers and knocked his hat off his head, letting it fall to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Despite your protesting words, you were still the one who yanked him in by the back of his neck for more greedy kisses, shoving your tongue against his until he was moaning into your mouth and you were kicking off your shoes yourself.
“We can’t do this.” you repeated between kisses as his hands pulled your shirt over your head and then went right to the button on your jeans as his lips trailed messy kisses down your neck. Your eyes caught on the window across the room, the sheer curtains still allowing the rustling trees of the backyard to be visible and if you focused, you could hear the muffled chatter of the party down below on the patio, laced in with music from the radio. You clung onto him tightly, using the last ounce of ethics in you, “Our families are just out that window in the backyard-”
But he shut you up with another kiss, his large hand tangling in the back of your hair to pull your lips on his so strongly that you swore your knees almost went weak. Your arms tossed around his shoulders as he shoved your jeans down your thighs and you blindly shimmied them off and kicked them away. George lifted you right off the ground and carried you over to his bed only a few short steps away and he dropped you down on the floral duvet and soft mattress.
You scooted farther to the middle, not bothering to process the fact that this was the bed he shared with his wife every night because he was standing in front of you and peeling off his tank top and unbuckling his pants. Your teeth captured your bottom lip as he dropped them to the ground, denim pooling around his ankles, leaving him entirely bare in front of you for the uncountable time since you moved into that quaint house next door.
“Gotta be quick.” George joined you on the bed, glancing back over to the door to make sure he had locked it before he was tapping your thigh to get you to move. You shifted out of the way and he laid himself down on the bed properly before he was grabbing your leg to guide you back over to him. You weren’t sure exactly what he wanted you to do but then he was situating your body to straddle his face and your eyes went wide. This was new. As if reading your mind, he offered an explanation while his warm hands rubbed up your thighs to your hips, “I’m gonna go fucking crazy if I wait any longer to eat your pussy.”
Before you could reply, he was wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down onto his mouth, letting you settle down right on his tongue. Your mouth fell open through a shaky gasp at his first touch and your hands bunched into fists in the air, unsure where to even touch. George moaned up against you as he licked his way into your body, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your reaction. Your stiffness had him chuckling and he turned his head to kiss your thigh.
“Put your hands in my hair.” he instructed, “Or on the headboard. Whatever you want.”
You dropped your hands down to rake through his tangled hair that was slightly dotted with sweat from the long morning in the autumn sun and his hands on your thighs slid up your hips to start to rock you on his mouth. You soon caught on and you kept up those movements yourself, grinding on his mouth and tongue with your hands snug in his hair.
“Oh my God.” you exhaled, eyelids fluttering.
“Have you never ridden someone’s face before?” George mumbled up against you and when you shook your head, he gave your bum a little smack with a casual, “Your husband is missing out.”
“Shut up.” you tugged at his hair to get his mouth back on you, nustling yourself down on his tongue a bit harder.
George chuckled lowly as he groped your ass and lapped at your pussy with his warm wet tongue, working with the movements of your hips. It certainly wasn’t the first time you had his mouth between your legs but being able to set the pace yourself was unreal and you gaped at the wall in front of you and you ground yourself on his mouth harder, faster, fingers tugging at his hair. He only encouraged you on with pleasurable moans against your pussy, trying to keep up with your motions until you were just smearing your liquids all over his face.
His hot breath against your skin was shiver-worthy and his hands only ignited your sense ten-fold as he reached up to grope your breasts and pinch your nipples. You pulled one hand out of his hair to set on his chest behind you for added stability, trying to smother your sounds through a bitten lip just in case someone was close enough to hear. But the house was perfectly empty with everyone distracted in the backyard, meaning only George was privy to the sounds of pure erotic pleasure that tumbled from your lips.
Your clit was aching against his tongue and he tended to it generously, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as he had you falling into bliss on top of him. His name coming from your mouth was the sweetest sound like that’s where it was meant to be and soon it came over and over again like a chant, gradually getting higher and needier. Your hand in his hair tugged harder as your hips moved faster on his mouth as if you were just completely using him, feeling erotically prioritized like never before. You were dizzy.
No, really, you were actually dizzy, and once you clued into the way the room spun around you a little, you slowed to a stop. Your legs were quivering on either side of his head and George - not wanting to waste time - took that opportunity to switch positions and roll you over onto your back with him in his rightful place on top of you.
“You okay?” he chuckled softly, noticing your wide blinking eyes.
“Yeah. Got a little dizzy there for a second.” you confessed, sliding your hands up his biceps.
“Wanna stop?” he asked.
“No.” you answered almost too quickly. “I’m fine.”
With the muffled sounds of the guests and the music outside, George angled the tip of his hard cock against your messy pussy, dragging it between your slick folds a few times before plunging it steadily inside you all the way. Your head dropped back against the pillow that smelt like him, offering him the sweetest groan to the ceiling.
“That’s it.” George exhaled, shifting slightly to grab your legs and he pushed them back towards your chest. With his thumbs hooked in the backs of your knees, he had you nearly folded in half, giving him a perfect unobstructed view he started to thrust into you.
Your hands grasped the pillow on either side of your head as he fucked the sweetest sounds from your chest. Every single time he always knew just how to treat you and it never got old; it only ever made you crave him stronger, addicted to the way he could fuck you like no one else could. On his knees for you, his thrusts were slow but hard, shoving into you roughly each time until the headboard was almost hitting the wall in time with the rhythm.
“How’s that?” he asked you, gaze unwavering from yours.
“Faster.” you begged, “Faster, please, sir.”
“Yeah? Want me to make you cum and send you back to your husband with my cum dripping down your thighs?”
“Yes, sir.” you nodded, voice breaking slightly as he started to fuck you faster. Your mouth dropped open and your eyes nearly rolled back, letting out a jagged moan to the ceiling with your knuckles turning white from how you gripped the pillow case.
“Yeah, you’re my dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?” he removed his left hand from your leg to wrap his fingers around your throat, pinning you down snugly to his bed, ordering, “Hold your legs open for me…let me in as deep as I can go.”
You let go of the pillow to grab a hold of your legs, pulling them towards your chest by the backs of your knees. Staring up into his eyes, it felt like heaven. The way he treated your body felt like pure erotic heaven. Nothing had ever felt so good before him and you swore nothing would ever feel that good after him.
“Good girl.” George praised through his teeth, making a beautiful harmony with the wet squelch of your cunt taking his aggressive thrusts and the bed squeaking underneath you. “Good fucking girl…I want you to cum for me.”
“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, watching closely as he lifted his right hand to slip his thumb in his mouth before dropping it down to rub at your clit. Your mouth fell open with a whiney gasp, eyes struggling to stay open as the intensity tore through your body. All you could manage out was a faint chant of “yes, yes, yes” as you felt the warmth building inside you.
George’s handsome groans were a struggle to hold back too and you could see the way his jaw clenched behind the bite to his bottom lip as he tried to hold back. But you and him were a red-hot mix, unbelievably passionate, like you were two halves of a whole, and it was impossible to slow down together.
So you came together, like perfect harmony, clinging onto each other with limbs tangled on top of bed sheets, sweaty bodies meshing as one, and you never wanted to let him go. It nearly brought a tear to your eye as you shuttered in his arms and came around him, squeezing him so tightly that he let out the richest moans against your neck as he curled into you. With a few more strong thrusts from your handsome neighbour, you were mouthing a blissful swear word to the ceiling as you felt him coming deep inside you like he always did.
As if hit by a sudden streak of clarity, your momentary pleasure dropped off into shocking realization. Playing it off, you still offered George a smile and a kiss as he shifted off of you and right away he was reaching for his underwear. You had a party to return to, after all.
So you forced yourself to your feet as well and got dressed alongside him, happily accepting his kisses before he walked you to the door. The moment you reached the end of the hall together and the top of the stairs - George tucking his hat back on his head - Jennifer turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs.
“There you are.” she said, “Where were you?”
You kept walking down the stairs as casually as you could, trying not to let the quiver of your legs show too much. George answered for you, “She wasn’t feeling well so I showed her the bathroom and got her some ibuprofen.”
“Just needed a second.” you said with a tight smile to his wife, “Nothing serious.”
She nodded faintly, leaning on the handrail as you drifted past her and she turned her attention to George, “I need help cleaning up.”
“Yeah, of course.”
The three of you emerged from the house together and you habitually smoothed down your hair as you approached Andrew and a few of the other parents. Your husband smiled at you warmly and slid his arm around your waist with a kiss to your cheek, “There you are. Where’d you run off to?”
“Just the bathroom.” you said softly, unable to even feign a smile.
Andrew stared at you for a moment, assessing your melancholy expression, and he rubbed your back and leaned in closer to check in, “You okay?”
You pulled a tiny close-lipped smile in his direction and nodded, “Feeling a little funny but I’m okay.”
“Did you want to go home?”
“No, no.” you waved him off, “I’m fine.”
Andrew turned back to the conversation with a few of the other parents, his arm still around you comfortingly, and his hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. The move would have usually made you blush pink but instead you were just hoping he couldn’t feel how your legs quivered underneath you. You crossed your arms across your chest and let your mind stew, piecing together all the ways you hadn’t felt yourself that last week, all leading up to today.
As if on cue, you felt a thick drop of cum slip out of you and into your underwear, unbeknownst to everyone around you including your husband. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath and said a silent prayer in hopes that you weren’t pregnant.
First thing the next morning, you took the car to the grocery store to pick up a few things to prepare for the week ahead. You were still feeling off even after your good night’s sleep and although you pinned it to an annual fall cold, you found yourself in the pharmacy aisle in front of the home pregnancy tests. Maybe it was because you had been through it once before that subconsciously you knew what your symptoms could have been hinting towards, but outwardly, you wanted to avoid it at all costs. In fact, you almost went home without one because if it happened to come back positive, you swore your life would be entirely ruined. But you bought one and hid it in the bottom of one of the brown paper bags so when you carried them into the house, it wasn’t easily noticeable to your husband or your son.
The moment you walked in the door, Richard was rushing over to greet you, already dressed for the day undoubtedly by his father since he was still in pyjamas when you had left. Your little boy trailed after you into the kitchen where you set the paper bags on the counter and he pitched to you sweetly, “Mommy, can I go ask if James can play?”
“Of course, baby.” you reached down to pet his hair, “Did you already ask Daddy?”
Andrew appeared in the doorway to the kitchen too in his usual running gear, giving your son a playful little nudge to the back of his head, “I already said yes, silly goose. Why do you have to ask Mommy again?”
“I dunno.” Richard giggled and slid around your legs to hide from his father.
“Because you’re a Mommy’s boy, aren’t you?” you said with a smile, glancing down behind you to your son who had himself wrapped around your legs.
Richard only smiled bashfully against your thigh, his cheeky brown eyes sparkling up at his father who crossed his arms over his chest dramatically.
“I get it.” Andrew sighed heavily. “No one loves dad.”
Richard giggled from behind you and slithered between your legs to cheer up his father with a hug of his own and a promised, “I love you, Daddy.”
“Oh, thank you.” Andrew gushed and crouched down to swallow his laughing and squirming son into his arms properly, showering him in kisses all over his face, “I love you too.”
“Ew!” Richard squealed and wiggled away from him. “No kisses!”
“Go play.” Andrew gave his bum a little pat to send him off down the hallway, “Get outta here.”
The sound of Richard’s feet down the hallway brought a fond smile to your face as you turned your attention to the filled grocery bags without making a move to unpack them. Andrew stood back up and tugged at the corner of one of them, trying to peek in.
“What’d you get?”
You grabbed them away from him a bit harder than anticipated, “Nothing exciting.”
His eyebrows furrowed briefly despite the amused smile on his face, “Okay.”
“You going on a run?” you asked casually.
Andrew looked down at his snug white t-shirt and red jogging shorts, answering sarcastically, “Nah, I just know how much you love my tiny shorts so I thought I’d wear them around the house some more.”
“Shut up.” you laughed lightly.
Andrew set his hand on your back as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Love you.”
“Okay. Love you.” you kissed him goodbye and watched him leave.
When the front door was shut and both your husband and son were gone, you hurried to throw any refrigerated items into the fridge before grabbing the pregnancy test box from the bottom of one of the grocery bags and you hightailed it upstairs. You closed your bedroom door and closed your ensuite door just to be safe before opening the box and removing the contents onto your bathroom counter.
It looked not much unlike one of Richard’s play chemistry sets as you carefully set up the two vials in the provided stand and filled them both with a few drops of liquid from the small eyedropper. Then, you sat yourself on the toilet with the clear plastic cup held between your legs, silently wishing for a miracle. You were hoping it would be negative and Andrew would never have to know and it could all be brushed under the rug and forgotten about. Yes, you wanted more kids more than anything but life had made it a bit more complicated.
When you were finished and flushed, you used the second eyedropper to add urine to both vials before capping them to let rest and you discarded the garbage and washed your hands. There was a forty-five minute wait on the at home tests - the fastest of its kind so far, the advancement of technology was truly incredible - but that still felt like an eternity to you. So you left the tests on the small plastic stand on your bathroom counter and returned downstairs to finish putting away the groceries.
As a distraction, you selected an album from your library and turned on your record player in the living room, turning up the volume a little more to keep your mind away from the life-changing decision that was brewing in your upstairs bathroom. You tended to the dusting of the main floor and you put away some of the clutter that mostly consisted of Richard’s toys, letting the music take you away. Well, so much so that your mind was completely invested in the melody rather than the weight that lingered on your shoulders.
Andrew returned from his run an hour later as promised and he greeted you in the kitchen where you were making lunch. You didn’t acknowledge him much as the song that was playing had you invested in the rhythm and you swayed softly around the kitchen, barely processing him telling you that he was going to get a shower before lunch. It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that it clued into your mind and you dropped the knife onto the counter with a clatter.
“Wait! Andy!” you called loudly after him to try and top the music. You hurried down the hallway and yanked the needle off your record to send screeching silence through the house before you took the stairs two at a time, calling his name again desperately as you turned into your bedroom, “Andy, honey.”
But he was already in the ensuite bathroom and that was right where you found him, standing at the counter with the two vials in hand. He turned to you, revealing the creamy white toned liquid inside - the white colour indicating a positive result. You swallowed back the bile in your throat for reasons he need not know about.
“What is this?” he asked firmly, his furrowed expression unreadable.
“I-” you swallowed, holding yourself up on the doorway, “I didn’t want you to see that yet.”
“You’re pregnant?” his eyebrows raised.
You didn’t quite know what to say. Andrew turned back to the counter and set the vials back on the stand before bending over to the trash bin to retrieve the empty box. You knew perfectly well what the colour meant but you let him double check and when he did, the box was tossed back into the bin and he set his hands on his hips with an exasperated sigh.
“Fuck.” he swore stiffly, raking a hand through his hair and he rubbed his fingers over the back of his neck.
Your words had abandoned you, not having prepared to find out this way - right in front of him. You could see him through the reflection of the mirror, staring at how his face was screwed up in thought as if he were going through every phase of grief in his mind, trying to figure out what to say or do next.
Finally, he inhaled deeply and said, “I thought we agreed that we were going to stop at one.”
“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” you protested strongly.
Andrew turned back around to you, “I have been nothing but completely accommodating to what you need…putting my own shit to the side for you because I love you. But I specifically said…”
He faded out, pressing his fingertips to his temples in frustration.
“What are you talking about?” you couldn’t help the edge that came to your voice.
“These last few weeks, after you asked me for another kid and I said no, you have been on some mission to ‘rekindle our passion’ and have just been pulling me to bed every chance you get.” he laughed humorlessly, “Now I see why.”
“What the fuck?” you frowned, “That’s the biggest amount of bullshit I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”
“I don’t want another kid!” Andrew said sternly. “I barely wanted the first one! But we made it work because you were happy and it was what you wanted and I gave up my apartment and my goals and my life for this family because it was important to you. You who I had only known a few months but I swore was the perfect girl for me. I love you so much but now it’s just a blatantly obvious infinite loop of you taking, taking, taking and me just giving it all up for you.”
Andrew pushed past you into the bedroom and your head turned after him with mouth agape. You were entirely stunned speechless. In his white t-shirt and short red shorts, it was almost humorous how this conversation was happening as he paced the room.
He turned to you again, tossing a hand in the air, “When do I get what I want? Huh? When do you do something for me?”
“When do I do something for you?” you snapped back, “Are you serious? I do literally everything for you! I raise your kid, I cook your meals, I do absolutely everything around the house so you don’t have to lift a finger!”
“I mean in life! With our goals! Why do we always have to do what you want? This house was what you wanted, getting married was what you wanted, having a bunch of kids is what you wanted. I didn’t want this! I didn’t want this stupid job that I am working my ass off day in and day out to get enough money to get by.”
“Oh, Andrew, stop it.” you scoffed, “What was your other choice, huh? A musician? An actor? A fucking Formula 1 driver? You had no sufficient, sustainable, real plans before me. You were a loose cannon before me. You were going to be broke and starving until someone got you straightened out and that just happened to be me. Life isn’t fantasies. You’re not going to be some top of the charts musician on MTV or World-Fucking-Champion and you just have to get over it.”
Andrew shook his head angrily and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, turning away from you, “Can’t bloody believe this shit.”
“You’re twenty-six-years-old, Andrew! You’re a grown man with a wife and a home and a kid and a nice-paying stable job. So many people would kill to be in your position.”
He turned back around to you quickly, jabbing his finger against his chest, his voice loud and firm, “But it’s not what I want! I’m sick of working my ass off every single day just to get by at a job I can’t stand! I put my blood, sweat, and tears into providing for this family and all I ask is a little compassion and a little give.”
You threw out your hands, shouting back at him, “What do you want from me?”
“How do you expect me to provide for a second kid when we can barely survive with the first?” Andrew took an angry step towards you, “I wish you just listened to me when I told you no-”
“You sound ridiculous! I didn’t knock myself up behind your back.” you snapped. Your words tasted bitter on your tongue with the silent knowledge that you truly may have done just that. You didn’t want to throw gas on the fire and make it a million times worse. Instead, you could only push away your internal battles and pray to God that the child growing inside you had the same dark features that were now staring angrily into your face.
“Do you want me to tell you that I’m happy?” Andrew retorted. “Do you want me to lie to your face and tell you that I’m overjoyed and that we’re one big cheery happy fucking family?”
“Talk about compassion.” you spat, “A little reassurance wouldn’t kill you.”
“I can’t work any harder than I do.” Andrew reiterated, pressing his palms together, “One step further and my back will break. I will break.”
“I just want a family with you!” you protested loudly, tears brimming in your eyes, “I’m sorry that I love you and that I want children with you! I’m sorry that I’m a shitty wife for…for whatever I did that you’re currently yelling at me over!”
“Well I’m sorry that my best isn’t ever good enough for you!” Andrew countered even louder.
You couldn’t hold back the small frustrated sob that slipped past your lips.
“Shit.” he huffed and turned away from you, taking a few steps across the room with his hands raking through his hair.
The sudden silence lingered tense between you and you choked on it as you took a jagged inhale through your tears. Andrew stood a few paces away from you, still in his ridiculous jogging outfit, his fingers clutching his dark hair as if he were about to rip it right out of his head. You habitually looked over to one of the side windows of your bedroom that stared directly towards the neighbour’s house and in that moment you could have given anything to just be with George instead, wanting to just fall into his arms.
Andrew sniffled and turned around to you, barely able to even look at you as he said flatly, “I’m just gonna go for a walk.”
“I made lunch.” you called after him as he walked right out of your room.
“I’m not hungry.” he replied from the stairs.
You listened to his every footfall on the stairs and then the sound of the front door opening and then shutting loudly. The house fell silent. Perfectly, eerily silent. You swore the sound of your breathing was echoing in your ears.
Out of pure anger and frustration and self-hatred, you stormed back into the ensuite bathroom, bursting in so strongly that the door flung open hard enough to hit the wall. You caught yourself against the counter where the small plastic standing housing the two vials stood, both tests containing the murky white liquid of your positive result. Swearing loudly at yourself, you dumped the vials down the sink and threw everything in the trash bin as tears blurred your vision.
Now that you were alone, you had the opportunity to let yourself process what this positive meant but the fight with your husband that was fresh on your mind just caused you to crumple to the ground with the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes. You swore to yourself over and over until your voice was breaking and the tears that leaked down your cheeks overflowed from your palms and onto the tile floor.
But, as always, you had to pull yourself together. Lunch was growing warm down in the kitchen and you had to go get your son from his playdate so he could eat. You wiped your eyes in the bathroom mirror and straightened out your hair the best you could before returning downstairs. Stalling, you switched off your record player and set Andrew’s plate in the fridge just in case he wanted it later, before you finally allowed yourself to step outside.
The crisp fall air filled your lungs and you took a deep refreshing breath as you walked down your front porch steps and began the short walk across your lawn to the neighbour’s house. Life felt like a hazy dream as you ascended their porch and knocked on the front door, barely processing anything that had happened that morning. Maybe dissociating was the right thing to do because subconsciously you knew that if you didn’t, the moment George opened the door and you saw him, you would have completely broken down. Instead, you greeted him with a tight lipped smile.
“Just here to grab Richard for lunch.” you said flatly, the roughness to your voice from your crying obvious to everyone but you.
George hesitated for a moment, staring at you, before turning into the house, “Ritchie, your mom’s here!”
Your little boy’s voice called back from upstairs, “Coming!”
George looked back at you, asking quietly, “You okay?”
You sniffled and nodded faintly, turning your head away from him to keep your composure.
“Hey,” he reached out a hand to touch your wrist, “what’s going on?”
You stepped away from him, out of his reach, “I’m fine, George.”
Richard bounded down the stairs and burst right out the front door, throwing himself around your legs, “Mommy! Can we eat fast? James and I were in the middle of a race.”
You put on the best smile you could offer the light of your life as you took his precious face in your hands, “Of course, my love.”
Richard took your hand and nearly pulled you down the stairs of the Russell’s front porch and George stepped out after you to stand on the top step. He watched while your son led the way home and you didn’t offer your concerned neighbour a second glance.
You ate lunch with your son at the kitchen table, expertly dodging his questions about his father’s whereabouts. He scarfed down his sandwich and chips quite quickly - in a rush to get back to his friend and their play - but you picked haphazardly at yours, your already limited appetite only dwindled more so since your hostile conversation with your husband only moments before. You couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting another little angel just like Richard and you admired him adoringly as he squeezed the life out of his juice box until the straw made a loud slurping noise.
“Done!” the five-year-old announced, turning to you with that sweet smile that had his pretty brown eyes scrunching closed at the corners, “May I be excused, Mommy?”
You reached over to pet his face, wanting to engulf yourself in your son completely, wanting your entire life to revolve around him and nothing else, “Yes, my love. Go and play.”
He hopped off his chair and threw his arms around you for a fleeting hug before he was rushing back down the hallway and out the front door. You stood from the table and collected your dishes to bring to the sink, tossing out your barely touched sandwich on the way alongside Richard’s empty juice box. It didn’t feel real that Richard was going to have a sibling in a few short months - if you thought about it too much and the weight that it carried on your conscious, it made you absolutely nauseous.
You stood at the sink with your hand pressed to your mouth, trying to take deep breaths, and trying not to think about how a blue-eyed baby with light features would be the worst thing to happen to you in your life. What would that mean for you? For Andrew? For George and his marriage? You had to take this secret with you to the grave. You had to cut things off with George and never speak of it ever again.
And then your hands flew to the side of the sink to catch yourself as you vomited.
About an hour later, you were cuddled up on the couch under the family room blanket, flicking through the TV channels for something of even the slightest interest to you. But with your mind so busy, nothing seemed distracting enough. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the kitchen wall that placed you in the later half of the afternoon and you sighed. That’s when the front door opened.
After six years of marriage, you could recognize Andrew’s footsteps without even needing to look and you kept your eyes on the TV screen playing some talk show through the otherwise silent house. Your attention was attuned, instead, to the sound of the front door closing and his keys on the table and his every footstep into the family room. He lingered in the archway for a moment and you didn’t dare look at him. Your curled up figure and the tissues that scattered the coffee table pitched your sorrow well enough.
“I’m back.” he said flatly.
You sniffled before answering with a faint shrug, “Okay.”
Andrew sighed and took a few more steps into the room, “Can we talk, sugar?”
“Not if you’re just gonna yell at me again.” you mumbled.
“I didn’t…” he exhaled deeply and fell to a stop at the opposite end of the couch from you, “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”
You sniffled again. You didn’t look up.
“I was just really taken by surprise. I didn’t expect that and I just…had a bit of an existential crisis, I’m afraid, and might have taken it out on you which was very wrong of me.”
You grabbed the remote from beside you on the couch and turned off the TV to give the conversation the attention it deserved although you still didn’t want to look at him. Maybe it was the anger or the guilt, you weren’t quite sure. Andrew took your move as an invitation to sit down and he did, keeping a respectful distance between you.
“I’m really sorry I got so upset. I was a real prick to you. You didn’t deserve that.”
Picking at the blanket that was draped over you, you muttered, “Thank you.”
“Maybe this all isn’t what I had dreamt up for my life initially but it doesn’t mean it’s bad.” he continued, “In fact, it’s really good. It’s so good that sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it.”
You finally looked over at him, “You deserve the world.”
He met your gaze and offered you a small half smile, “So do you.”
There was a pause where you just stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch for a moment.
“Do you really not want another baby?” you asked.
Andrew sighed and looked at the carpet, “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t want to never see you again. I already feel so distant with how much I have to work and to afford another kid? Even the thought of what that would entail exhausts me.”
“Maybe you gotta ask for a raise.” you said lightly.
“Yeah,” he chuckled faintly, “I might have to.”
You turned your attention back to picking at the threads of the blanket.
Andrew looked over at you again, “I never even asked: How are you feeling about it?”
Tired? Stressed? Terrified? Exhausted? Guilty? Depressed? Nauseous?
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Kinda bad after our blow-up this morning.”
Andrew sighed and scooted closer to you, holding out his arm and you instinctively met him halfway on the couch to cuddle into his side. He pressed a kiss to your head as you rested against his shoulder and he held you close.
“Don’t let your crap husband get in your head.” he teased.
You smiled faintly and reached a hand out of your blanket to tap his thigh under the short fabric of his red jogging shorts, “You in those ridiculous shorts.”
“Hey,” he swatted your hand away, “you love these shorts on me.”
He was still faintly sweaty from his earlier jog and then from walking the neighbourhood for who knew how long but you still gladly shifted on the couch with him to drape yourselves out together, cuddled up and forgiving in each other’s arms. With your head on his chest, you closed your eyes to listen to his heartbeat and your arm around his middle squeezed him closer, wanting to absorb yourself into his familiarity and go back to when life was simpler. Andrew’s fingers trailed over your shoulder and into the roots of your hair, easily calming you down and taking the edge off of your stresses, his lips dusting a few soft kisses to your head.
He then shifted beside you to face you a little more and he pushed the blanket farther down so he could lift up the bottom of your shirt and his fingers ghosted across your abdomen. It still looked the same as it always had but the secrets it housed inside were almost unspeakable. With your heads resting together comfortably, you and your husband stared down your body to the spot which warmly housed what you prayed was your baby grown in wedlock.
“I love you.” Andrew promised into the air. “And this baby was made from that love and there is nothing more beautiful than that.”
You pulled a tight smile, barely whispering an audible “I love you” in return.
The following week went by in a haze. The news of your pregnancy stayed between you and Andrew and although your husband seemed to be warming up nicely to the idea of having a second child, you were in a state of limbo. When Andrew was at work and Richard was at school, you didn’t dare leave your house in fear of running into George. In fact, you were even having Richard wait outside on your front porch until he saw George and James heading to the bus stop so he could go with them instead of you. In reality, it all sounded so pathetic.
But you knew that one look at him and you would crumble and if you were set in your ways to break things off with him for the sake of your family, you needed to be strong. There were certainly better ways to go about it but it was a dire circumstance and your brain was foggy and the early months of pregnancy were really starting to hit hard with the symptoms. Karma, you were sure. You had dug yourself a hole and you were being forced to lie in it.
When Andrew returned home on Friday night just in time for dinner, as usual, you were already exhausted from a long day of doing not much of anything. Fatigue was real and you had spent it all on making dinner, therefore not offering much conversation over the meal. Besides, your mind was going a mile a minute anyway - way too much going on to really formulate a coherent thought.
With Richard watching TV and playing in the family room after dinner, Andrew helped you to clear the table and start on the dishes. You washed them at the sink and he took drying duty, making sure to put everything away where it went around the kitchen.
“I ran into Jennifer on the train tonight.”
You didn’t acknowledge his statement at first, silently waiting for him to keep talking as you held out one of the wet plates to him.
“Jennifer Russell. Our neighbour?” Andrew continued and took the plate from you to dry it off.
“Yes, I know who you meant.” you said softly.
“Oh. Well, she and I got to chatting and we were thinking about having another double date night soon. Maybe just something simple like a dinner? I offered that we could host.”
You laughed breathily towards the sink, “I’m hardly up to cooking a whole meal for two families right now. I’m lucky if I go an hour without puking.”
“That’s okay. We can order something in.” Andrew offered, “It’d be a nice treat.”
You debated quietly for a moment as you scrubbed the plate in your hand. In reality, your hesitation wasn’t necessarily about the need for dinner prep as it was more towards the anxiety of seeing Jennifer’s husband face to face. Then, you asked, “When?”
“Tomorrow?”
The part of you that really missed George tugged at your hormonal heartstrings and you debated for one more second before finally, “Okay.”
And tomorrow came before you knew it.
And George then was standing in your foyer talking to your husband with a clueless smile on his face, his hand resting on his wife’s back.
And you were wondering why on earth you thought this was a good idea.
“Come on in.” Andrew hung up your guests’ jackets in the front closet, “Make yourself at home.”
While the children helped themselves to the family room where Richard’s plentiful toys were littered across the carpet, you four grownups took to the living room to chat while you waited for dinner to arrive. Andrew chose a record from your abundant collection and as he did so, the rest of you took your seats.
On your way across the room, George’s hand ghosted over your back and he offered a breathy, “Hey.”
You barely smiled in return, “Hi.”
He and his wife took to the chairs and you and Andrew shared the modest floral sofa. Conversation progressed easily although your mind was distracted by the memories you held with your neighbour on that very couch. It seemed George was thinking the same thing as he stared at the upholstery and then met your gaze, letting a faint smirk prick at the corner of his mouth. You looked to your lap, unresponsive. George’s smile faltered.
But you pitched into conversation where possible to appear as normal as you could to your unsuspecting spouses. You were good at playing the part of devoted wife - as you had learned over the prior few weeks - and your hand rested on Andrew’s thigh innocently as you talked amongst yourselves and stayed tucked under his loving arm. George seemed to be analysing your every move with his eyes not often straying from you. You tried not to give him much in return, focusing your attention on Jennifer’s incredible mundane story about work.
KFC was ordered for dinner and when the driver arrived, Andrew got up to pay while you got the dishes ready in the kitchen and organized the kids at the table. Your polite guests helped to plate the take-out food once Andrew brought in the brown paper bags and you divided everything up and served the children first. You made sure they each had a juice box and plentiful napkins and George cut up Nancy’s chicken for her on her plate at the same time. Andrew and Jennifer took your grown-up plates to the dining room, leaving you and George alone in the kitchen with the kids for a moment.
When you drifted over to throw away the plastic straw wrappers in the trash bin under the sink, George followed you to rinse his hands quickly. Before you could escape, he grabbed your sleeve with one finger to stop you.
In a quiet voice, he asked, “Are you avoiding me?”
“No.” you answered flatly.
“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you all week and on Sunday you seemed upset. Now you can hardly look at me. Does Andrew know-”
“No.” you said firmly, stopping the conversation quickly in such a risky location. Your eyes darted past him to the kitchen table where your children were munching away happily, clueless. You looked back at him, “I don’t want to talk about this. Especially not right now.”
Then you slipped away from him and through the doorway into the adjacent dining room. Andrew and Jennifer were already sitting at the set dining room table, diagonally from each other, and your husband pulled out your chair for you beside his with a smile. You sat down with a quiet thanks to him and George joined you and took his spot across from Andrew, his eyes lingering on you with uncertainty.
The side dishes were lined in the centre of the table and you all passed around the bowls and helped yourselves to the servings over casual chatter. You stayed quieter than usual, picking at the food on your plate as you tried to keep your nausea at bay - the cause being your newly discovered pregnancy but also the guilt that never failed to turn your stomach and raise bile in your throat. Your fork nudged against a piece of macaroni salad as George shared a story from that week surrounding something cute that Nancy had done but you were barely listening. Instead, you stared at your plate and took the smallest bites known to man, silently praying - as you constantly had been all week - for a brown eyed baby. In reality, you knew that the likelihood of that was not in your favour.
The sudden feeling of your mouth dampening had you setting your fork down onto your plate with a shaky, “Excuse me a moment.”
Andrew watched as you got up quickly from your chair, your napkin falling to the floor, and you disappeared out of the dining room. Your guests sat, startled, as your footsteps hurried up the stairs to the second floor followed by a dull thud of your door closing.
You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet just in time to throw up into it, your hands gripping the sides of the bowl as the cool tile stung against your knees. Tears burning your eyes and you shut them tightly as you slowly wiped your lips with the back of your trembling hand, sniffling back your regretful sorrow. The soft knock at the bathroom door had you flushing the toilet before answering with a faint acknowledgment. You had half hoped it was George - but why would it have been? - although Andrew slipping inside the bathroom with you shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.
“Hey.” he cooed, crouching onto the ground with you and he pulled your hair out of your face and away from your flushed skin, “You okay, my love?”
You sniffled and slouched against the toilet, “No.”
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” he kissed your temple and then carefully helped you to your feet and over to the sink. Like he always had done when you were pregnant with Richard, he wiped your mouth with a cool damp cloth and brushed your tangled hair for you as you rested lazily against the vanity.
“It’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled.
“Hm?” Andrew encouraged as he finished with your hair, fluffing the soft curls over your shoulders.
“We have guests and I just ran away from the table to puke. That’s so embarrassing.”
Andrew smiled softly as you leaned back against his chest and he tucked your hair behind your ear so he could kiss your cheek, “I’m sure they understand.”
A slight panic hinted at your voice, “You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“No. Although I’m thinking we should.”
“No.” you answered quickly.
Staring at each other through the mirror, his arm around your middle and his hand rested over your stomach, Andrew questioned, “Why not? Now seems like a perfect time.”
You couldn’t think of a valid excuse that wouldn’t completely give you away. You merely shrugged.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sugar.” Andrew reassured you with a warm smile, “They have two kids of their own, after all. I’m sure they’ll be happy for us. Besides, maybe now Nancy can have a playmate.”
Oh yes, you thought to yourself, George is going to be just so happy. This whole situation just screamed ‘happy’.
Back in the dining room, you and Andrew returned to your seats and you offered a soft apology to your guests over your sudden disappearance.
“Are you alright?” George asked politely, his wife at his side watching you worriedly, both of them full of friendly compassion.
You pulled a tight smile and a curt nod as you picked up your fork again, “Fine.”
You couldn’t look at him. You knew that if you did, you would be sent to vomit again by the hellscape of emotions that swirled around your mind. But Andrew had a different plan as he set his hand on top of yours on the table and he looked over at you as if asking for your permission to speak. You didn’t move, eyes downcast to your plate, played off effortlessly as shyness.
“We actually have some news we want to share.” Andrew announced to your guests.
The children in the adjacent kitchen laughed and chatted loudly, the sounds of their joy echoing around in your mind, stirring stresses of how much their lives could be affected by this simple announcement. Nothing felt simple anymore.
George shifted in his chair as if he knew something was going on - something not quite right. He speared another bite of his dinner with his fork without taking his attention away from Andrew’s accidentally dramatic pause while his wife continued to eat, unfazed, at his side. Andrew gave your hand a squeeze and your mouth felt dry, blood gone cold, and your breath was held in your lungs.
Your husband looked at your guests with that soft smile of his, “We’re expecting.”
As Jennifer swooned with celebratory congratulations, the noise of the room fell into echoing silence as you finally looked up from your plate and your gaze instantly magnetized to the man sitting diagonally across from you. George was already staring at you, his handsome face fallen in stricken shock. Your internal thoughts settled heavily on your conscious, realization that the choices you shared were the sole cause of this announcement that was feigned at joy by your spouses.
You only had to glance at George to see it all over his face.
He knew it too.
THE END
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𝕳𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 𝕬𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘.
☆ 18+ only/no minors. | dick grayson x male! reader.
SUMMARY: a nsft fic about the daddy kink dick was trying to hide accidentally slipping in mid-session with his partner.
WARNINGs: 18+, dom! male! reader, sub! dick, (accidental) daddy kink, anal, (minor, on dick's end) anxiety.
WORD COUNT: 700+
NOTEs: second person & no plot. this insert is more "cocky" personality wise. [no terms and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]
"Fuck, you sound so pretty, songbird." He isn't given much of a chance to respond, as every thought that could be keeps going hazy with each stroke from the slow, precise pace between his legs. Moans cascade through the room with every thrust of your hips against his.
But, through his own desperation, he manages to mumble out, "Sh–shut up."
All bite is replaced by laughter, wrecked by a lack of air. A quiet, choked noise that reverberates off the walls with the sound of skin on skin.
His legs are wrapped around your waist, fingers tangled in hair, while the other is barely holding back from drawing its nails down over your back. The embrace is slick from the sweat enveloping the both of you, the palm of Dick's hand gently massaging the back of your neck. Kisses through panted breath trail across the jaw to the side of your face before broken groans reach your ear just as easily as the creaking of the bed.
You move a hand down to his ass and start pulling him into you a little with each stroke. The flurry of sensations added by the new pressure has Dick reeling back into the mattress, done even bothering to hold himself up anymore, just for you to lay your full weight on him.
You grip him a little tighter, and he meets you with a kiss, as gentle as he can with the unintentional bumping of teeth, to match. Your tongue pushes and slides over his, eliciting more.
It's only getting deeper, and he takes every inch while pinned down without complaint. For once, memories buried deep into the corners of his constant, racing thoughts aren't taking the forefront of the situation—ruining it all, and now his head altogether is getting fuzzier by the second under the heft and size of the one fucking into his messy hole.
His breath grows heavier as he moans your name.
Fucking into him, giving him everything, with your hand reaching down to grip his hip to pull him up into each downward thrust, he can't think of anything but the truth when you finally speak up again, "You love this dick?"
It comes easily: "Daddyy—feels so fuc–so fucking good, please don’t stop."
It's hard to hear the scoff through his own heavy breathing. "You forget who’s fucking you?"
Much to his dismay, you slow into deep strokes, curling yourself over him and snaking your hand under his jaw to pull his face up and hear him more clearly. Your voice is right next to his ear.
"What did you just call me?"
Truthfully, he isn't even sure what you're talking about. The things that come out of his mouth when you're on top are not conscious. Most of the time, he just ends up embarrassing himself with the incoherent whines forced out despite any reassurance given. The hell did he say? Oh shit, did he use somebody else’s name? He wouldn’t do that—no, it couldn’t have been that, so what the fuck did he say?
You roll over into Dick's again, keeping in place to pound at that tender area in deep that gets him to whimper. Like clockwork, the word is knocked loose again.
"Daddy—"
In an instant, the pure terror draws in, and he's finally thinking with his actual head again.
His daddy kink is a dirty little secret better left in the dark (in his professional opinion.) So, he's never mentioned it—how he'd refer to you as that when he'd touch himself, all alone and hushed, mewling it to the image of you he'd conjure up in his head to push himself over the edge.
A title he knows holds too much weight—something he's definitely going to be judged for. And so, he's quick to apologize.
"Huh? Noooo… shit, sorry." Your chest gets pressed up against his, and then he's burying his face into your shoulder to close the rest of the space, his arms coming around over your back to feel the warmth he just might lose. "I'm so—sorry, I didn't—just—I love you—"
"It's okay." It's said so softly that it almost slipped by without notice. His heartbeat stops its rapid spike while you go on, and he can breathe.
"Say it again."
#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x male reader#dick grayson smut#male reader#dom reader#mine#dc comics#daddy kink tw#ok . that's enough tags. soooorry
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ch. 18
buddie I 900 words I ao3
He’s drunk.
Not the blazing, head so spinny he could hurl if he stood straight, but in the hours after drunk that comes with a dry, heavy tongue and a slurred voice he still has some sort of control over.
Buck’s in the same boat, or—he thinks he must be, he doesn’t know, sitting criss-crossed next to him outside their hotel room door because they can’t, for the life of them, figure out how to put the key card into the door.
“Hey, Eddie,” Buck slurs, looking at him with slow, wide-lidded blinks. “Where’s—where’s Chimney?”
He draws out Chimney. Chim-ney.
Eddie shrugs. He can’t make his mouth work for the life of him. He’s pretty sure he saw Chimney two hours ago—before the music started? Or at least when he started singing Maneater with one of the Drag Queens.
Buck knocks a shoulder into his as he slips down the wall, the smell of his hair briefly sifting into his nose. He smells like gin and lemons, and a little bit of that fancy curl product he tresses up his hair with before every fancy event.
I know his hair product, he thinks loosely, tilting his head against the wall as he takes Buck’s weight. I know his hair product, and the way he does his hair before work. I know it all because he helps my son do his hair just the same way. I know it all because my son wants to be like him, so I have learned him, for my son. I know it all because I have learned him. I know it all because I have learned him, for me.
I have learned him. I have earned him.
“Does—” And Fuck, maybe he’s drunker than he thought. “Does Tommy know your curl?”
Buck hums, non-committedly. He hasn’t heard a word Eddie said. He tries again.
“Does,” he spits out. Doooesss. “Tommy.” Ttttommyyyy. “Know.” Know.
Buck lifts his head up and ends up tipping too much to the other side. Eddie grabs him by the forearm, tight. The action feels familiar in ways that Eddie, for the life of him, can't understand.
Buck blinks at him, bright blue eyes stupid dilated. “Does Tommy know what?” He whispers. He draws out his name, too. Tom-my.
Eddie looks at him and loves him.
He’s always known he loves Buck. For the first time in his life, though, he thinks—I love you. What does that make me?
Eddie opens his mouth. The back of his throat burns—maybe from all the tequila shots or the lemons hitting the rim of his teeth or the raw pad of his tongue from licking salt off of Buck’s warm palm.
Does he know what you look like covered in blood, Eddie wants to ask. Does he know what it looks like when you haven’t showered in three days because you’re so depressed you don’t know if water burns more than the sun. Does he know what it looks like when you’ve got ugly red eyes because you’re so sad you don’t even know how to hold it. Does he know what it looks like to see you shining, like a savior, in the worst of the worst, in the worst of your days. Does he know what it’s like to lose you, really lose you, and see you swallowed up by white sheets and a lightning scar across your chest. Does he know what it’s like to be loved by you. Does he know.
He thinks—I love you. What does that make me?
Eddie tries to take a breath but it feels like there’s something crawling up his throat, so he tilts his head back up against the wall and tries to take a breath.
“He’s coming to the wedding,” Buck continues, as Eddie stares at him.
Eddie nods. “Good,” he says. Good. Buck. “Tommy.” Tommy. Tommy.
He looks at Buck and thinks of the answer.
It makes him a dead man, this love. It’ll kill him probably. It has to kill him. It has to be like a disease you can’t hear or smell or breathe, and you have to be alone in the hospital with your blood running in circles beneath your skin. It has to be like a disease that kills you before you take your next breath. It’s killing him.
I love you. What does that make me?
It makes a fucking idiot, is what it makes him, because god he’s always too fucking late, running into stupid relationships after relationships after being too fucking late in the beginning of it all. He is too late. He is too late and he is in love and he is burning up right from the inside.
I love you. What does that make me?
He heaves. He can’t breathe. Buck puts his head back down on his shoulder, and all of a sudden Eddie has to learn how to breathe, or otherwise he’ll disrupt Buck’s rest. He can’t disrupt Buck’s rest.
“Buck,” he starts, opening his mouth. Buck sighs, half-heartedly, and tilts back. He looks at Eddie. Eddie opens his mouth.
“I love you,” he says. Nothing comes out. “What does that make me?”
Buck looks at him, confused. He blinks, like he's thinking it through.
“Eddie.” He draws out his name, slow. Eddie.
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Kiss The Girl
After the wedding ceremony, at the end of the after party, when things quiet down and it's just the 118 left once the bride and groom drive away, the DJ changes the song to a romantic ballad as background noise.
Tommy thinks it's cute so he asks Evan to dance. Evan's sleepy and still a little tipsy, but he's also a sap so he lets Tommy take the lead. They're in their own little bubble tucked away on the dance floor.
They whisper soft affirmations and Tommy feels giddy with happiness for the first time in a while. He holds Evan close, listening to his boyfriend's endearing rambling until the DJ switches the song to Kiss The Girl from the Little Mermaid. "Did you know this is Jee's favorite song?" Evan asks, inches away, hips swaying in Tommy's arms.
"Is it?" Tommy asks in that smooth, deep tone that makes Evan melt. "It's a pretty good song," he admits, feeling flushed from the rush of adoration running through him. Evan hums and presses close, light and smiling and being so adorable Tommy's heart flutters in his chest.
"We've seen the movie a thousand times," Evan says. He rests his hands on the small of Tommy's back, stares up at him with the softest look on his face. His lips plush and pink, cheeks a shade of rosy red.
"We'll have to watch it for our next date," Tommy says softly. Evan can't help the whine that escapes when Tommy reaches to trace his thumb along the collar of Evan's button up shirt. Tommy looks at his boyfriend with gentle eyes and licks his lips. Evan's eyes fall to Tommy's lips, already breathless. His hand cups Tommy's cheek, guiding him closer.
"Kiss me," Evan demands, leaning in before Tommy can react. The kiss is deep, loving. Tommy's fingers curl into Evan's hair. Evan moans softly against his mouth, kissing him a second time, a third time before parting. Tommy presses his lips on the top of Evan's head, and he lets Evan burrow into his chest, feeling the happy sigh more than hearing it as Evan's fingers clutch the back of Tommy's suit jacket, swaying to the music playing in the background.
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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.
Ch 13: …because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine.
A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)
After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.
The special day arrives.
Professionally edited by @editing-by-night
Read on AO3.
Masterlist
Art by @lirotation
Ban stared at the gowns laid before her. There were three, in contrast to Astarion’s four suits. He’d hired several painters to sketch out portraits, some in the days before the event and some on the day itself. Today.
The maid braiding her hair tugged at a strand a little too tightly, but she barely noticed. On the opposite end of the room, Gale entered.
”Ah. Ban.” He nodded. “Just picking up the suits.” He reached for them, hanging from a coatstand near the doorway, but had to pause to shove away the silver-curl-topped head that threatened to poke through the door. “No peeking, Astarion! Don’t make me put up wards!”
Ban stifled a laugh as she heard a low growl, a chuckle, and then the sound of steps stalking away.
”He’s impatient,” Gale grinned, finally gathering all four ensembles in his arms. “But you already knew that.”
”You’d think he wouldn’t be, considering we’ve seen each other in these outfits before.” She remembered posing for portraits, having to hold poses stiffly - not a new occurrence, but they’d worn these outfits for them. It had felt… odd, seeing herself in wedding finery, white silks and embroidered fabrics. She was more comfortable with wearing more extravagant clothing now, but some of these outfits were well beyond what she was accustomed to. She’d imagined marrying someone, of course, but she’d figured it would be one of her father’s arranged events - a son of some fellow merchant or someone of import. Never had she considered it would be someone she’d actually love.
Not until the nautiloid, she supposed. She brought the old fantasy to mind.
Astarion in a crisp white suit, the color matching his hair. He’d smile at her, waiting for her as she walked down the aisle. The sun would shine on both of them somehow, but the tadpole would be gone - how this would be possible, she’d never thought to consider. He’d beam, his fangs making an appearance as she approached, and he’d offer her his hand, which she would take. She would be the happiest woman in Faerûn.
Another tug on her hair, and Ban sighed, opening her eyes. Their wedding would be at sunset, which meant a whole day of not seeing each other. The last time they hadn’t been glued to each other’s side was - she brushed the thought away.
Irrelevant. It will never happen again.
She instead allowed her eyes to gaze into the mirror, watching herself. She was still in her silken robe, a rich royal purple, but her eyes were locked onto her own. Still black, miraculously. Still her. She absently opened her mouth, a finger pulling her lip up to see her fangs for the first time. They weren’t anything impressive, and she sighed, letting go of her lip.
The maid doing her braids looked at her in the mirror. “You are still lovely, madam. Even if you are…” she trailed off.
Ban chuckled nervously. “I never was. But thank you.”
“That most certainly isn’t what our lord thinks,” the maid said amusedly. She resumed her work and left Ban to ponder her words.
Gale walked in to find Astarion preening in front of a mirror, styling his hair. He wordlessly hung the suits one by one. The to-be-groom seemed perfectly level, fingers carefully raking through and arranging the silver curls into their usual perfectly-coiffed style, but Gale could see the slight tremor in his hand.
“How is she doing?” His eyes remained fixed on his reflection, his voice calm with only the faintest tremble. “I need to remind her to clasp the back of her cape properly, else the whole thing hangs off-center. There are six buttons she has to do; three on each side. One of them is rather tricky - the holes are hidden in-”
“She is perfectly fine. Her maids will attend to her clothes. There’s no need to be concerned about a malfunction.” Gale waved him off dismissively, and Astarion sighed.
“Fine. Do you have the rings, at least?”
Gale patted his pocket. “Of course.”
“Be a dear and don’t lose them.”
Gale noted the irritability, but the nervousness behind Astarion’s tone was obvious. “I’ll try not to. If I do misplace them, however, don’t drink me dry, please?”
At Astarion’s irritated huff, Gale laughed and left him with a final quip of, “Don’t fiddle with your hair too much, Astarion, she may change her mind if she sees you with frizz. Positively hideous.”
They were both laughing as Gale exited, closing the door behind him.
They met in the gardens.
She walked down the small steps to see a figure in white, hair shining in the dying light of the sun. He was fidgeting with the buttons on his cuffs, huffing as he struggled to fit the buttons into the holes.
He was turned away from her, and did not notice her approach.
“Astarion?”
Her voice startled him, and he turned to face her. He swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
”Ban. Do you mind-” He held his sleeve up.
She approached him, taking his hand carefully and began to fit the buttons through. As she did she eyed him, meeting his gaze. He offered her a quick smile.
”Thank you.” He drew her close, hands settling around her waist to tug her to him. “I missed you.”
”It’s been…” she frowned, “less than eight hours since we last saw one another.”
”Doesn’t mean I can’t pine for my wife, does it?” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and exhaled, a long, drawn-out release of air that told her all she needed to know. “Even a minute of your absence is excruciating.”
She placed her hands on his back, rubbing gently. “You weren’t missing me. You’re nervous.” He raised his head, eyes narrowed. “Which is perfectly fine,” Ban added quickly before he could get a word in edgewise.
His brows smoothed out and he acknowledged her words with a stiff nod. “That does not mean both could not be true.”
”I guess you’re right.” She gently placed a hand on his cheek, watching the tension melt from his features as he leaned into the touch. “Any second thoughts? You still have time to say no, you know.”
“Of course not.” He scoffed, eyebrows knitting back together. “I disappear for a few hours, and you fill your head with the silliest of notions. Which of us can’t manage mere hours without the other, hm?”
”It was a joke.” She pecked his cheek.
His shoulders sagged and his features softened. “I am aware. It’s simply… difficult, comprehending being…” he threw both hands up, gesturing at them and the garden around them, “here. I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking of having a future at all - let alone this one.”
“Even during our adventuring days?”
Astarion pursed his lips, pensive. “At the start I assumed we would all part ways, or die.”
“Astarion,” Ban frowned, “we were seeing each other!”
“And I thought I was using you,” he answered without hesitating. “Later on there was the threat of Cazador and the Absolute, not to mention the rite itself. I did not have room to consider what life would be past those events.” He frowned and his eyes flicked away. “We’re both painfully aware of what happened after that, of course.”
“My love,” she murmured, the sobriquet slipping from her lips; she realized she never really used them, almost never outside sex. His eyes met hers, widening in surprise and then joy, and quietly chastised herself for not using them more. “I know. We both know. We’re also past that.”
He exhaled. “I am aware.” She could tell he was still tense, whether it be because of the mention of those six months, or the wedding itself. She placed a hand over his breast, felt the hammering there, and sighed.
Leaning forward, and on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Look at me?”
He did so, a chagrined smile on his face. He dipped his head. “Just… nervous.”
“It’ll be fine. Nothing will change. It’s just a ceremony, a soiree, like any other, and that’s all it is. Paperwork. It doesn’t have to matter if you don’t want it to. If that helps calm your nerves.”
Astarion scanned her face, then shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we both know this isn’t mere theatrics to me. I refuse to belittle it that way.” He took a small, aborted breath. “So little of my life has meant anything. Let this mean something, Ban. Let me be nervous and excited. Let me feel this, because it means everything to me.”
His mind touched hers, disparate thoughts flitting through. Redemption, finally. Joy, that he had been chosen by her, wanted by her. Worthy to be the one waiting as she walked down the aisle. Worthy of being the man she’d bind herself to. Enough.
She smiled, her thumb tracing his cheekbone. “Of course it means something, and of course I want you to feel it as I do. I merely meant, well. If that sort of thinking would help ease your nerves, then it might be useful.” He leaned into her touch, eyes shuttering as his shoulders finally lowered. She drew in close, pressing their foreheads together; she on tiptoes and him bending down to accommodate her.
He exhaled, the warm air rushing over her face. She saw his lips part and kept her peace, waiting for him to speak.
“Thank you,” he finally mouthed, eyes still firmly shut. The hammering beneath her palm quieted some, and she pressed her lips to his.
There were flowers everywhere. Roses of every shade adorned each side of the aisle. The archway that they would stand under was just as she’d envisioned. She had known how it would look, had arranged everything with the florists, but seeing it all in its full glory as she peeked through a window sent a thrill down her spine.
Everyone she knew and loved was there, mingling as they prepared to take their seats - everyone save one. He was sequestered away, just as she was, in preparation for the ceremony. She caught a quick glimpse of Karlach fidgeting with her dress and Halsin looking uncomfortable in an old suit.
There was a knock at the door. She called out to an invitation to come in and it opened, revealing Wyll.
“The blushing bride.” He held out his arms and Ban stood for a tight hug.
As Wyll pulled away she looked out at the crowd, watching as they began to take their seats. “Who knew, hm?”
He stood beside her, crossing his arms. “Who knew, indeed.” He caught her gaze and offered a smile. “Shadowheart filled us in on everything that happened. A lot passes you by when you’re stuck in Avernus.”
“I don’t doubt that. Have you talked to Astarion?”
“A little, this morning.” Wyll ran a hand over a horn. “He seemed glad that I approached him, but his mind was elsewhere. I don’t blame him.”
“He’s happy you’re all here,” Ban offered. “I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d get to see you two again after the reunion.”
“In much happier circumstances, too,” he nodded. “We’re glad to be here. Perhaps the next wedding will be ours.”
Ban blinked twice. “Does Karlach know?”
He shook his head. “It won’t be anytime soon, but closer than she and everyone else thinks. I figure with our lives being so full of danger, she might want some time to settle after we’ve fixed her heart.”
“Well, if you need anything,” she said, clapping his shoulder, “you can always ask me. Or Astarion, for that matter.”
Wyll offered her another shy smile. “I’ll go ahead. Tell everyone to prepare. Shadowheart will come for you when it’s time.”
She nodded and Wyll left, leaving her to her thoughts. Not that there were any other than the present, the seconds seeming to tick by extremely slowly. Her mind wandered aimlessly, refusing to focus on any one thing for very long in an attempt to avoid thinking of how nervous she was starting to feel.
Ban had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like mere seconds later when a bouquet was pressed onto her hands. Numerous people were suddenly checking her hair and makeup one last time and smoothing her dress into place. She took a nervous breath, keeping her eyes fixed upwards as she felt tears begin to pool. Crying would ruin the kohl.
“Take a deep breath.” Shadowheart’s hand on Ban’s shoulder startled her and she jerked, head snapping around to lock eyes with her friend.
“Is… Is it time?” Ban shuffled nervously, making sure to not step on the train of her gown.
“He’s waiting for you.” Shadowheart gathered most of the train, and they made their way out of the room. As they approached the main garden Ban swallowed; she could hear the music increasing in volume with every step.
She stopped in her tracks, Shadowheart almost tripping over the dress behind her. “I-” Ban turned to face her.
“This is it,” she choked out; tears filled her eyes and she blinked, trying to not let them fall. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. It was a trite ceremony, and they were already eternally bound. She could think about the significance of it all later, when there were less eyes on her.
But she remembered his words, remembered him asking her to let it matter. She wanted to touch his mind, but they had agreed not to.
No cheating, he’d told her, after they’d had their final pre-wedding kiss earlier today. I want to feel it the way it was meant to be felt.
She’d understood what he meant. To experience it as if they were not vampires with a mental bond. As if they were just them.
Shadowheart approached her, carefully dabbing her tears away before they could spill. “We’ve faced worse, and you did it all fearlessly. You can do this.”
Ban nodded. “I know. I just…”
Feel it. She took one deep breath.
Shadowheart squeezed her hand one last time. “Walk as soon as your music starts.” She went ahead, taking her place next to Gale to walk down the aisle with him.
She stood there for a painful few minutes, hidden from view by a hedge. The music started, the song she’d picked for herself. Steeling her nerves, Ban took one last breath and walked to the aisle.
The setting sun hit her eyes first, blinding her for a moment. Her vision cleared and she saw the same roses, the same aisles, the same ivy-wrapped archway, but the seats were now full of people watching her. The music wasn’t quiet at all, but it was completely drowned out by her racing heart.
Her eyes locked onto that familiar glint of silver, the crimson of his eyes burning into her even from this distance. He had his hands clasped together, his face carefully neutral, shifting into an uncertain, boyish smile as their eyes met. Time froze. Nothing else mattered. Not Ulder standing by Astarion, not Gale holding the ring box in his hands. Not the music, nor the artists quickly sketching off to the side. Not the scent of roses or the blazing sunset. Not one other thing existed. Just him.
She took a step onto the red carpet. Then another. She could feel the slight drag of the train of her dress, requiring slightly more effort to place one foot in front of the other. She could feel the bite of the heeled shoes, a little tight, on her feet, and the subtle change in her posture to accommodate walking with an elevated heel. The feel of the satin ribbon holding the bouquet together contrasted with the rougher stems of the flowers it bound. The gown’s fabric slid against her body, shifting with every move.
Her mind registered all this, part of her begging to dwell on these trivial sensations, to hide behind her walls again.
We don’t cry. Not in public. Not like this. Not where everyone can see.
Her father’s words. Not hers.
Instead, she allowed herself to feel.
Every step brought her closer to the archway - to him. His smile was slightly wider now, but his eyes were wide and misty. She remembered everything - nights under the shelter of their tent, cuddled by the campfire, the soft press of his lips against her temple. Strong, slender fingers grasping her wrist, tugging her away from whatever trap she had missed in her rush. Those same capable hands undoing the straps of her breastplate, a small huff of annoyance as the armor snagged on her underclothes, tearing them, knowing those same hands would repair them later that same night. The scent of bergamot and rosemary, clinging to her clothes as they parted for the day, something she’d imagined she could still smell even under her armor. The sound of his voice, always the first one she sought out; his thoughts, his quips, even the playful little insults he’d throw her way.
Then more recently, their hands clasped in meetings, sly glances and hidden smirks as they mentally discussed the people they were making deals with. The press of his lithe body against hers as they twirled around the dance floor, leading her effortlessly. The heated kisses, his lips trailing a fiery path from her lips to her breasts, his hands tangled in hers. Breathless moans, whispered promises of eternal love - no longer only promises, but truth. Seeing his face every dawn, reaching across the bed and always finding him there, every time without fail, whether he was watching her or reading a book or sipping tea-
Astarion gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she smiled in return. The tears finally fell, wet as they traced a path down her cheeks, but she was beyond caring. She took a few more steps, bringing her closer to him - to her fate, to everything that had ever mattered and the only thing that ever truly would.
Hers. Hard-fought and almost lost, but hers now, for however long their immortal lives lasted - forever, she vowed, and even beyond.
She stopped. Faced him. He swallowed, his smile fading as he took a step towards her, his hand held out for hers. It was a gesture they’d made countless times, in countless ways - helping each other up in combat, in camp, at breakfasts and dinners and meetings and parties - but this felt like the first time. She placed her hand on his, feeling the skin under hers, smooth and trembling, but still the same. Always.
They stood side by side as Ulder recited the rites. None of it was anything she’d remember, she thought. Her eyes were on him, from the perfectly coiffed hair to the slightly-trembling hands clasped behind his back, to the embroidery on his shoes. She reached out, and to her relief he noticed and responded in kind, even though his eyes never left Ulder. His index finger touched her first, gently tracing the back of her hand. His lips curled at the corner, his eyes crinkling even as his gaze remained ahead. Ban slipped her hand into his and felt him squeeze.
“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunín, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”
For the first time since the ceremony began his eyes moved over her. They were large, wet, and painfully beautiful. He shot her a grin before turning back to Ulder. “I do.” The hand holding hers was cold, and she fought back the urge to reach over and rub warmth back into it.
The same question was leveled at her. She met Ulder’s gaze while he spoke, but made sure her eyes were locked on Astarion’s as she uttered her response. His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly at her words, eyes flicking downwards for the briefest of seconds, then settling back on her face.
Then Gale approached, the rings kept in a small, ornate box. He opened the lid, offering it up to Astarion, who nimbly took her ring in his hands. He playfully bounced the ring on his knuckle, to the crowd’s delight, then looked at her.
“I am not prone to… long speeches, or poetry, for that matter,” Astarion began, the ring passing between his thumb and index finger as he fidgeted with it. “Nor am I the kind of person who usually appreciates public declarations of love. However, with you I could enjoy anything, and that includes this.”
His hand drifted down, patting his hip anxiously. “You probably weren’t the best leader, likely not even the best companion - I’d wager Wyll wins out over everyone in that regard.”
Ulder laughed; Ban glanced over at Wyll, who gave her a small wink. Astarion continued. “Back then… you tended to make frankly foolhardy decisions - thought with your blade rather than your brain… except when it came to me. With me…” he paused, thinking, “you seemed to think with your heart. Yet another foolish thing to be doing at such a time, darling, but I very much appreciated it.”
“I cared little for you at the start. In truth I didn’t know how to care for anyone, and certainly didn’t think anyone could care for me… despite my dashing good looks.” He huffed out a high-pitched laugh, one she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. He grew somber then, and continued. “But I quickly grew to love you. I grew to treasure every single moment we spent together, from camping out in the wilderness to the most mundane arguments about which vase would match the drapes. We’ve already lived through a lifetime’s worth of tribulations in our time together, but look at us.” He gestured at her and then himself. “We held on to one another, through every challenge. We have worked so hard to be the people we are today. To seize this happiness for ourselves and for one another.”
He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the curls as his fingers carded through them. “And while there’s little doubt we’ll run into more trouble, because of course,” he rolled his eyes. “I do so knowing that you will be with me for all of it. Knowing that my every sunrise and sunset will be spent with you. Knowing that…” his breath caught, and Ban squeezed his hand. He swallowed. “that after two centuries… I am finally enough, the way that I am. Perhaps quite a bit more than enough at times, darling,” he chuckled.
Astarion straightened up. “But now that I am enough… I stand here today and I vow to love you forever. For the rest of time, even when the sun burns out and we give ourselves to the night. When we face whatever lies beyond - I vow to love you then too.”
His hand took hers, slipping the ring onto her finger. It did not meet much resistance, the cold metal settling in place easily. They both looked down at it, at how it seemed to belong there, as if it had always been there but just out of sight.
Gale’s movement brought her back to the moment. The box was held out to her, and she took Astarion’s ring. It was larger than hers, heavier, with a slightly thicker band, and with engraving identical to hers. She looked at him and saw the same hunger in his eyes as the day she’d asked him to marry her, that ravenous need clear in the set of his features.
“I wasn’t… born for this. Not for any of it. My life was supposed to be one of quiet subservience, to be what I was raised to be. I left that behind, and then I thought my life would be one of unassuming simplicity. Not… not these gardens. Not this palace, or the journey we all had. Not immortality. Not you.” She bit her lip, a fang catching on it. “I think we were both done a great favor the day the nautiloid took us. It brought me to you, and you to me.”
“The way fate works is something I don’t pretend to comprehend. I don’t think any god looked kindly on us before that day,” she snuck a glance at Withers, who merely nodded, “but neither do I think it was mere chance. We were… meant to be here. Meant to meet, meant to go through everything we did and everything else we will encounter. Each meant for the other,” she added, watching his lips curl as he acknowledged her words.
“You waited far too long for me, while I did not have to wait long at all. There’s no compensation that can make up for all that,” and she shook her head as he opened his mouth, “but I hope that I can at least begin to… I don’t know, ease it.”
She looked down at the ring in her hand. It felt easier to say the words then, without meeting his gaze. “There are not enough words to express the depth of my love for you, and I fear there never will be. I have never been good at baring my heart, but if there was ever a moment to do so anyway it would be this one. I could say I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life, and it would be true, but somehow it fails to express the sheer magnitude of my feelings for you.” She dared glance up to Astarion and was rewarded by an encouraging nod. “I vow from this day on to love you, to cherish you, and to see you. Even when it gets hard, even when it takes work to do so. I promise to do better, as you have done. I shall be your rock, your support, your comfort whenever you need me. Until the sun burns out, and through whatever lies beyond, I am yours. For as long as we exist, I vow to be your home, as you are mine.” She finally met his gaze and thanked herself for not fully looking up sooner. He looked so beautiful.
Astarion held his hand up, his fingers quivering visibly. He was smiling, but it was a bit frozen, almost forced in his anxious excitement. His eyes were too bright and wet, and she realized the trembling wasn’t just his hand but his whole body. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and hide him away from everyone else, to keep him in the shelter of her embrace until his nervousness abated.
She slid the ring onto his finger.
Astarion cleared his throat. “Wrong finger,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. She stammered out a quick sorry, moving the ring from his middle to his ring finger.
The moment the ring slid home, Ulder spoke up. “It is with great honor that I pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Ancunín, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”
Instantly, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close. He pressed their bodies together, and slipped his hands down, linking them under her ass. He gripped her tightly, lifting her up. She wound her hands around his neck, the silken fabric of his collar pleasant against her skin.
His mouth slotted against hers, his plush lips pressing against her own. Leaning into the kiss, she heard him groan softly as his tongue lapped at her lips, seeking entrance. She opened for him and the approving hum that answered her sent shivers down her spine. The feeling of his teeth catching her lower lip, dragging over it as he pulled gently, elicited a quiet moan from her. The sound of whistling from somewhere in the crowd broke through to her and she finally pulled away, embarrassed. He set her down but didn’t let go of her.
Astarion simpered for the crowd, but his eyes were still damp and round. He offered her his arm and she gratefully accepted, leaning against him as they walked back down the aisle, finally husband and wife.
Astarion sauntered over to where Ban stood in front of the enchanted mirror, fighting with the clasps of her capelet, approaching from behind. “Does my wife need aid?” His hands ran over her shoulders to the clasps.
“Probably,” she huffed. “I had so much trouble having them put on. No one really knows how to do it, other than you.”
They were working on their first outfit change of the day, and she knew there would be more. Astarion had insisted on doing so for some variety in the portraits that would be painted today, but Ban also thought it a good idea to convey a sense of decadence and power. She was beginning to regret the pragmatism in that decision, now that she had to deal with the reality of multiple complex and tedious dress changes in a single evening.
He hummed in response, fingers slipping under the ornamentation to undo the buttons. “At the very least they managed to put it on straight. I was worried.”
“Gale did say as much.”
They both watched their reflections as he easily unbuttoned one side, then did the other, allowing the cape to fall to the floor between them. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder.
“Do you require more assistance, my love?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
Shivering, she turned. “I wouldn’t say no, but I’m surprised you’re offering. The day isn’t quite over yet, Astarion.”
“Is it not? We’re wedded,” he held up his left hand, ring glinting in the candlelight, “and we have more than two hours before the reception starts. I presume we could steal a few minutes.” He closed in, crowding her, foreheads almost touching. “It wouldn’t take long, surely.”
Ban shook her head, reaching back to begin untying the laces of her dress. “We have portraits to pose for. We don’t have time.” She would have loved to; a month apart ensured her resistance was thin, but in that moment her thoughts were with the wedding arrangements. “As much as I want to-”
The words died in her throat as he moaned in her ear, rolling his hips against her thigh. “Certainly it should be up to me when our game ends, don’t you agree, darling? Ten minutes,” he whispered, “is all I would need.”
“Astarion-”
“Please.”
That word and the needy, aggressive tone in his voice undid the last threads of her restraint. She growled, taking a step back to remove the rest of her outfit. His eyes tracked her every move as she stripped the gown off, shimmying out of it gracelessly, shoving it down to her legs and stepping out of it.
“On that table,” Astarion pointed, and she backed up to sit on its edge. He prowled towards her, eyes dark and very much hungry, still fully clothed. His hands parted her legs roughly as he knelt. Their eyes met and she swallowed.
“Ten minutes, Astarion,” she warned weakly.
A dark bark of amusement answered her. “Trust me. I require less than that.”
His hand made its way up her thigh, fingers dancing playfully. He kissed her knee, eyes still locked onto hers. The other hand wrapped around the back of her knee, fixing that leg in place.
“Be a good girl,” he purred, “and be quiet. We don’t want anyone,” he traced her folds through her underwear, then flicked her clit through the fabric, “hearing us, do we?”
“Or walking in.” She took a quick, cursory look. She was pretty sure the door had been locked so they could change; the likelihood of anyone walking in was low.
He sank his teeth into the meat of her thigh, lapping lazily at the blood that formed, then smirked. His thumb ran circles around her clit, no doubt feeling the wetness beginning to soak through the cloth. “That too.”
Her eyes were glued to him as he began kissing his way up her thigh, fangs scraping her skin. He mouthed at her core, the thin cloth leaving too little and yet too much in between his tongue and her. He drew back a hand to undo the buttons of his suit, but his mouth never left her.
She rolled her hips, an insistent, pleading gesture, one hand wrapping around the side of the table as she bit on the other to stifle a moan. He hooked a finger in her underwear, tugging the fabric aside to bare her glistening folds. Red eyes flicked to her face, and he looked ravenous. “I wager you now agree with my assessment?”
“Probably less than ten minutes, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Just please. Lick me.”
He nodded, his face perfectly neutral, as if they were merely talking about the weather. “I knew you’d come around.” Keeping his eyes on her, he licked her, his tongue laid flat, from her entrance all the way up, making sure to give her a firm flick where she needed it most.
Ban groaned, spreading her legs further, needing more. Astarion obliged, slipping two fingers into her without meeting any resistance. “You’re deliciously wet, darling. How long have you wanted this? Wanted my tongue on you, wanted me - my fingers or my tongue or my cock, any part of me - inside you?”
She bucked, fucking herself on his fingers helplessly. “Too long,” she whispered. “Far too long.”
“Then I shall reward your patience, my love.” Without another word he dove right back between her legs; his hand spread her open, his tongue running circles around her clit before finally wrapping his lips around it and suckling.
She whined, the sensation momentarily overwhelming, but then he shifted into gentle, loving licks. Even that was intense, her hand instinctively lowering over his head, about to fist into his curls, until she remembered they needed to keep them pristine for the reception. She saw his eyes crinkle at her movement, but his mouth and fingers never stopped their work.
His fingers pumped into her faster, curling to hit her spot with every pass. His tongue lapped harder, the delicious friction making her hips move of their own accord, grinding against him. The fingers spreading her open, the naked, sheer desire in those eyes eating up her every reaction, the way his hips moved desperately in rhythm with his fingers, and the tent in his trousers were sights to behold, sights she had not seen in far too long, and it brought her climax barreling towards her.
“Astarion,” she whimpered, his name a quiet supplication upon the altar of his tongue.
He growled, low and deep in his throat, dragging a fang across her clit. The vibration and the slight sting of his fang sent chills racing along her entire body. She fought the urge to arch, to allow her eyes to roll back, wanting to see it. To see him. Their eyes met, and he cockily raised a brow as he gave her one last, hard flick, perfectly timed with a hard thrust of his fingers.
She bit her hand, fangs inadvertently breaking skin, a loud, muffled scream emanating from her as she came. Her hips jerked and Astarion wrapped a hand around her hip, pressing her closer as he lapped up everything she had to give. As she slowly recovered he kept licking, seemingly unwilling to stop. She could still see his erection straining against his trousers, his hips still slowly rocking.
“I… fuck,” she finally managed to say. She put a hand on his shoulder, pushing gently, feeling slightly oversensitive.
Astarion let go, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his face. He wiped his mouth on his cravat, then tugged it off. “Plenty of time to spare, just as I expected.”
Still trembling, Ban barely managed an annoyed glare. She let her eyes stray to the bulge between his legs. “And what about you?”
He looked down, as if noticing his clearly painful erection for the first time. “I think I can wait a little longer.” He adjusted his trousers and took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “I simply wanted to end your punishment.”
“As for myself,” he drew in close and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, “I figure I have all night, and eternity after that.”
#astarion#astarion baldurs gate#baldurs gate astarion#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion fic#astarion x tav#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#bg3 fanfiction#soft ascended astarion#astarion ascended#ascended astarion#ascended astarion x f!tav#ascended astarion x tav#vampire ascendant#ascendant astarion#astarion fanfiction#astarion fanfic#astarion fanart#astarion fluff#astarion romance#baldurs gate 3 astarion#astarion art#astarion x oc#baldurs gate 3#bg3 fanart#tavstarion#baldur's gate 3
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little bit of advice, take the dare.
pairing: bang chan x f!reader.
warnings: profanities, implied exhibitionism, dirty truth or dare (more like dare or dare...), stripping, mild grinding, dirty talks.
genre: implied rivals to lovers, implied smut.
rating: mature.
word count: 2.1k
“Let Chan strip two pieces of your clothing.”
These little bitches.
The innocence in Seungmin’s broad grin as he delivered aloud and clear what Minho had earlier whispered in his ear wasn’t able to deceit Chan the slightest in spite of it combined with that sparkly attentive puppy stare.
A foul scheme had been carefully arranged in those two cunning heads of theirs before they instigated this truth or dare game as soon as the majority of people returned home. Chan wasn’t oblivious of what he would get himself into the moment Minho escorted him from the drinking game in the back patio to a coffee table in the living room and begged him to join in the fun. Especially when you were one of the people centering around the table.
And so Chan was down for whatever challenges thrown his way no matter truth or dare it was that he ended up choosing. Wouldn’t really matter. Except now it was your turn, yet he was somehow involved in such a risque dare so early in the game.
Seungmin’s index finger pointed around the room twice, attracting the attention of the few people close enough to the table to see what he was up to, and he added, “or let anyone in the room. Your choice.”
As though he expected you would actually pick one of the sweaty and tipsy dimwits you barely knew of instead of Chan who you were certainly more familiar with. When, seriously, it was clear to Chan that both Seungmin and Minho wanted to prove him wrong— that the possibility of you romantically attracted to one another wasn’t even close to impossible despite the banter between the two of you sometimes getting out of hand.
The banter, Seungmin and Minho insisted, was a flirting attempt.
You leaned back onto the sofa behind you, crossing your arms with a stare of haughty disdain piercing through Seungmin and Minho’s who both seemed to be just as imperious.
“I was expecting a more daring one from you horny freaks,” your eyes then landed on Chan who was sitting across from you. Not looking away, your proud smile widened into a blithe grin, “this isn’t even his dare. But if he’s down, I don’t see why I have to back down.”
Chan stretched his arms and arched his back as a dramatic warmup before downing the remaining liquor in his red cup, earning supportive laughs from the excessively excited spectators around. “As long as you don’t back down if they involve you in my dares later.”
Getting up from the floor, you rounded the table and stood before him. You mirrored the smug grin that stretched across his face as he peered up at you, “pants and sweater then, gentleman.”
Despite the profuse tease that gleamed in your irises, Chan didn’t entertain you with even a slight wavering in the way he looked back up at you. Instead, taunting you with a faux innocent tilt of his head as his firm yet tender fingers began to toy with the button of your jeans.
The waistband of your black panties as if emerged once he slid down the zipper. He wasn’t sure if your hand placement on the crown of his head was unintended, but then your lips tilted up into a smile and your brow arched challengingly as your fingers ran through the soft tresses of his brown curls.
Encouraged, he lifted the hem of your sweater, exposing just enough of your bare stomach. His other palm smothered around your waist and landed on the small of your back, drawing you closer until his lips accidentally brushed against the bare skin of your stomach.
Chan’s hearts didn’t leap at his own sly, dirty initiation.
It didn’t. Definitely not.
Perhaps one could cut the air with a knife as the tension between you two was thickening the longer he took his time sliding the pants off your waist and the tighter you had his hair gripped in your palm. But everyone else was too preoccupied with keeping track of his veiny hands lingering around the waistband of your jeans, tugging down the denims at an intentionally slow pace.
In one glance, nothing of your true emotions was shown through your perfunctory facade. But Chan was practically on his knees, hands on you, and there was less than two inches gap between his lips and your stomach. Anything changed from your stance, he could easily catch it.
So when he felt you tensed up when he tantalized you by skimming his palm down the side of your thigh as the other pulled the jeans down to pool around your ankles, he had to fight back the triumphant grin he felt was close to spread on his face.
Once the pants were tossed somewhere on the floor, Chan got up on his feet as you held your arms up for him to take your knitted sweater off over your head.
His eyes peered down at where the bare skin of your stomach was supposed to be on full display as he pulled the hem of your sweater up. The underband of your bralette was slowly showing the higher the hem of your sweater was lifted.
He drew closer, lips lingered on your ear, chuckling and murmuring out of everyone’s earshot, “should’ve made you rid of three garments instead of two. What a shame.”
You ran your palms down along his torso as soon as your sweater was off your upper half, and you leaned in to whisper in his ear where nobody else could hear, too. “Next time it’s your turn, I’ll make you stand on the porch naked.”
Shameless gasps of “oh fuck” was heard from around you as you casually sat down with only high cut panties and black bralette. Chan could easily relate. He found himself checking you out when you weren’t looking.
He was grateful of the sudden rough smack on his thigh that brought him back to his senses. He looked to his left where the hand was from and Minho shot him a knowing look before leaning over to mutter, “you fucking pervert.”
He chuckled. Perhaps he was.
“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!” Felix chippered lovely squeaks and giggles as he bounced up and down on the carpeted floor in anticipation. More because the game had progressed into all the more obscene to earlier than he had expected. Don’t be fooled by such an irradiant, angelic face.
Chan just had to dissolve into laughter and squeaks and giggles when the bottle cap once again pointed in your direction. Twice in a row, it was. He threw his head back laughing when your jaw plunged into the ground in disbelief and eyes narrowed into slits in spite, feeling betrayed— by the bottle.
“Sit on Chan’s lap.” Jeongin smugly declared before anyone could even think of something potent to embarrass yourself, effectively shutting down the jeers and laughter as they contemplated.
You shrugged, once again rounding the table to where Chan was perched on the floor and nonchalantly settled your ass on his lap before he could protest.
Chan, on the other hand, grasped either side of your waist tightly and tried to prevent you from dwelling on that particular spot. But you persisted on reclining your back onto his chest, shoving your ass further down to where Chan could feel himself twitch.
“Fuck you.” He cursed against your neck when you slightly wiggled your lower half.
“Quit being a jerk,” you whispered back with a chuckle, but tone laced with genuine threat, “or I’ll make you wet your pants. Literally.”
Not even thirty minutes into the game that everyone around the table was a little tipsy with signs of either misery and happiness written on their faces.
With five people being out of the circle and off to the back patio for a lot more lame drinking game with other football players, the remaining nine still held out in place to seek revenge.
Minho had tasted his own medicine as he was left with only briefs around his waist but not that he was unhappy about it as he’d gotten to proudly present his hard-earned well built body when you had Jisung leave three hickeys on his shoulders and two on his inner thigh. Jisung had solid yellow face paint all over his face, exactly resembling Looney Tunes’ Tweety.
Hyunjin was sprawled on the floor with occasional dramatic huffs and groans after he’d called his problematic ex and told him he’d been missing him. Changbin and Felix were disgustingly glued to one another after the older prolonged the supposedly five-second kiss. Seungmin had collected lipstick marks around his neck from ten people. Jeongin almost passed out from seven slices of pizza he’d had to finish before Seungmin returned.
And Chan was about to get his second turn after the top of the bottle pointed at him and you, who was still very much comfortably perched on his lap.
“Dare.” He didn’t even hesitate, calm and confident.
Not even when Minho slightly shoved himself forward to gain everyone’s attention. A little lift at the corner of his lips didn’t go unnoticed and for some reason, Chan was even anticipating what the little bitch had to say now.
“Are people still doing seven minutes in heaven?” Minho blurted, making Felix perk up instantly.
Hyunjin abruptly ended his dramatic disintegration and sat down with a gasp. “Oh my god,” he started, “I did it a year ago at a frat party with a guy except we weren’t allowed to say anything. Not a single fucking sound ‘cause one of them was sitting in the front of the door and if they heard even a small bit of me moaning, we’d have to walk to class the next day with extremely short fucking miniskirt. Imagine such suffering I had to bear while a hot guy blew me. He was great though.”
Wonder-stricken looks were instead what the taller got from everyone in the room. Minho was especially beaming at the deliberate suggestion and against his better judgement, his eyes landed on Chan whose chin rested on your shoulder. The older raised a brow in amusement when catching him staring, already seeing through the younger’s impish smirk.
Seungmin turned towards Minho, “I vote for what exactly Hyunjin did.”
Minho chuckled, “slow down, my guy. Our Channie doesn’t have to get someone suck him off. He can do whatever he pleases behind the door. But not. A single. Fucking. Sound.” He firmly suggested as he looked Chan dead in the eye. Insisted, even, perhaps, “or Changbin would love to lend his sister’s pink tutu.”
While Chan’s expression was hard to read, the rest seemed to be pleased. Excited, even.
You straightforwardly approved of Minho’s suggestion, ripping through the sound of supportive cheers from the others with an excited squeak after taking a sip of cheap beer from your cup, “I volunteer to sit at the door.”
Chan snorted behind you, “who says you’re not coming with me?”
A noisy commotion of “ooooohhh” and dramatic “aaaaahhh” immediately collided with the blaring EDM played in the background.
He’d thought you would never run out of snide remarks to shoot back at him at a time like this. So when you choked on your drink at his candidness, he couldn’t hold back a laugh.
Felix unattached himself from Changbin’s arm, hands flailing before his own face as he grinned so brightly that the dim room no longer seemed to be as dim as it was supposed to be. Once again, don’t be fooled by such an irradiant, angelic face. “Okay, look. You got seven minutes. Choose your person. No sounds allowed. We’ll set the timer once the door’s shut.”
“That room’s empty.” Changbin added with a snicker, nodding at the door to his roommate’s room, “he’s gone for two weeks. Just don’t make a mess.”
If Chan was surprised at how he managed to manhandle you and somehow scoop you up as he got on his feet, it didn’t show on his face. You securely wrapped yourself around his upper half, a long list of filthiest profanity was at the tip of your tongue at the sudden, unannounced move.
Chan blinked. Not breaking eye contact, his tongue brushed over the upper row of his pearly teeth before those sank in his lower lip. There might be a lack of reaction shown on your face as you seemed to be still as annoyed, but the faint pinkish tint that stained your cheeks had said so much already.
He glanced over to Changbin, nodding, “worry not. I’ll swallow everything y/n has to give me.”
“You better,” your irritated stare tapered off into that of a challenging glare injecting venom straight into his dimpled grin, “or I’ll make you wear the tutu.”
#skz fictions#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz smut#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz bang chan#bang chan smut#chan smut#chan imagines
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made for this⎜j.marino
pairings: john marino x reader
prompts: "I'm proud to be seen with you." + "Can you zip up my dress for me?"
genre: fluff ⎜friends - to - lovers ⎜
warnings: insecure reader ⎜mentions of weight gain ⎜chubby reader ⎜comments about weight ⎜reader gets bullied ⎜fake wags (didn't want to make anyone a villian so I made them up) ⎜p.s. sorry Pittsburg
word count: 4.3 k
note: this started off to be a short prompt request and ended up being a little longer - all events in this are fictional and the timeline is not accurate - I also went down a john marino rabbit hole and found out some interesting things - like did you know he has a twin brother?? anyway i hope you enjoy!
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PRESENT - EARLY 2024
“John?” You call into the empty hallway, fiddling with the zipper on the back of your dress, just slightly out of reach. “John?” You call again, hearing quick footsteps up the hallway as he wanders in the bedroom taking a quick glance over your outfit.
“I think we should go to casino night, every night.” He lets out a low whistle, as you turn your back to him with an eye roll motioning to the zip on the back of your dress. “Can you zip up my dress for me?” You ask pulling your hair out of the way as his nimble finger make quick work of the tiny metal zip.
“Do you think this is enough?” You ask quietly as John smooths the back of your dress, his hands sitting on your waist as he glances at you in the mirror. He watches as your hands fiddle with the skirt of the dress, the light blue satin stopping mid calf, the tight corset top sinching in your waist, it was the same dress you had worn four years earlier at an event when John had started in Pittsburg - the dress had been hidden in the back of your closet since. “The girls in the group chat said that it’s a more casual black tie, but the casino event in Pittsburg was always said to be casual and people dressed like it was the met gala.” John smiles as he loops his arms around your waist, continuing - patiently - to watch as you adjust your accessories and hair.
“The girls in the group chat would be correct.” John noted, watching as you frown at yourself in the mirror. “You’re overthinking it.” He warns, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before dropping his chin to your shoulder. “Besides, Jack messaged earlier and asked if sneakers are black tie.” John smiles as you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at the younger players' antics.
“What if people don’t like me?” Your question is barely audible - and John frowns, your hands going back to fiddling with the dress. “I just don’t want a repeat of Pittsburg.” John’s frown deepens again remembering the first event he had convinced you to go to after being signed to the penguins.
“It won’t be like that - everyone here is super nice.” He reassures, pressing kisses against the skin of your shoulder, his soft curls ticking the side of your face.
“I just can’t help but think about what they said sometimes.”
“Well try harder - what a bunch of middle aged entitled women say means nothing” You hands reach for Johns as he moves to pull away from you, your grip keeping his arms latched around your middle. “I think you look amazing.” John says softly, his fingers weaving with yours as he squeezes your hands.
“I’ll always be proud of you and who you’ve become.” He adds for good measure and you let out a high pitched whine, dabbing at your eyes quickly as you glare at him.
“I appreciate the sentiment but right now is not the time to make me cry - it’ll ruin my makeup.” John just chuckles, pressing one more kiss into your hair before letting you go, the two of you grabbing the last of your stuff before leaving the apartment.
This would be the first time you would meet John’s teammates and their families - after a rough experience at John’s old team you were hesitant to meet his new one until he could reassure you that they were all wonderful - two years is how long it took to convince you to finally come to an event, managing to get one of the players girlfriends to add you to the WAG group chat so you felt a little more at ease knowing a few people.
It was around a twenty minute drive to the venue, the New Jersey Devils renting out a large hotel ballroom and setting it up for a casino night charity event - the event would be more formal unlike their normal sweep the deck events but was supposed to still feel genuine and homely. John had picked one of his favourite suits - the checkered navy blue suit one of your favourites too - his hair was swept away from his face though his curly were unruly and a few fell out of position to sit against his forehead.
“I’m really glad you’re coming tonight.” He said softly as he pulled the car into the valet spot - slipping out of the driver's side to hand them the keys, before rushing around to help you out of the car, guiding you to the front steps as the valet handed him the return ticket.
You both thank the worker before slowly ascending the steps into the venue - gentle music streaming into the lobby. “Luke is so excited to meet you.” John adds, his hand on the small of your back as he steps towards the ball room, smiling kindly at the host who opens the door for him.
The girls in the group chat were right.
Though the event was definitely still formal, no one was dressed above and beyond, most people seemed to prefer something a little more comfortable. You smile down at your dress choice, satisfied with the sky blue satin, John's hand rubbing soft circles on your back as he waves his hand above the crowd.
It’s hard to miss the six foot two defense man who awkwardly shoves his way through the crowd towards the two of you - his own curly hair rivaling John’s as he stops in front of the two of you, a crooked grin on his face. “I’m Luke” He says quickly, reaching out his hand for yours, the motion a reminder of the first time you met John - you smile up at him, placing your hand in his as he gives it a quick shake, saying your name quickly.
“I need your honest opinion.” Luke says quickly - you wait for his question taking in his checkered suit a small chuckle bubbling in your throat as you realise how similar it is to Johns. “Curtis said my hair’s too fluffy.” The younger man says, his finger instinctively running through the curls. “Is it really that bad?” Luke finally asks - John barks out a laugh, coughing a little as you ram your elbow into his side.
“It looks fine, Luke - I’m sure Curtis is just messing with you.” You reassure the player, your words seemingly taking a weight off him as his shoulder relaxes a little more.
“John’s told me a lot about you.” Luke says as he glances over to his teammate with a cheeky smile, “He said that you were head over heels for him from the first time you met.” Your mouth falls open as you flick a glare over to your boyfriend.
“Oh did he now?” You watch as John begins mouthing some angry words to Luke, slicing his hand at his neck as you turn away from him, “Let me tell you how we actually met.”
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PAST - LATE 2017
You first meet John in college - the two of you wide eyed freshmen walking into your bio-chem class with clear anxiety.
You had taken a seat towards the front of the class, hoping it would deter people from sitting too close to you - spreading out your textbooks and laptop over the surface as fellow students continued to pass by your desk.
You didn’t even notice him approaching until he stopped beside you, waiting for your attention to turn towards him and away from your computer screen.
“Do you mind if I sit there?” He asked softly, pointing at the seat beside you, a nervous grin on your face as you nod quickly in response - clearing your books off the chair beside you.
You couldn’t quite get a grasp for who he was from a first glance - the boy was obviously built like an athlete, tall and lanky but maintaining a lean and muscular build - but the textbooks he swipes from his bag, already donned with notes and highlighter markings are telling a different story.
“My name’s John.” He said quietly as the teacher entered the room, lifting his hand between the two of you in a friendly gesture. You take hold of his hand giving it a gentle shake as you tell him your own name, watching as he mouths the word a few times with a determined nod.
Your first class passes by quickly - which to be fair could be because you spent the whole lesson watching John in the seat next to you - his eyes glued on the projector screen at the front of the class, his hand diligently taking notes.
“Hey, do you want to go grab a drink at the cafe down the street sometime? We could compare notes?” John asks as he begins to pack up his stuff, the teacher dismissing the class earlier than scheduled.
“Umm…” You stall, shoving your completely empty notebook into your bag, looking around as if an excuse would appear into thin air.
“Sorry, it was stupid of me to ask.” He says quickly, a tight smile on his mouth as he throws his bag over one shoulder, “You’ve probably got a hundred other people to meet up with.” He says with a soft chuckle, his hand raising to rub at the back of his neck.
“I don’t.” You say quickly, frowning at your mouth's betrayal. “Maybe we could meet after the next
lesson? I still have a few more induction classes this afternoon.”
John nods quickly, yanking a pen out of the side of his backpack, rolling up his blue flannel shirt offering both the pen and his bare skin towards you. You stare at him in confusion as he glances between you and his arm.
“Your phone number?” He asks quickly - a snorted chuckle escaping you as you pull your phone from your back pocket, opening the device and handing it to him.
“How about you just put yours in my phone and we save your skin from the sharpie?” You suggest, John quickly tucking the pen away, the tips of his ears a flaming red as he takes your phone from your hands.
“Yeah, that’s a better idea.” He mumbles handing the phone back to you once he’s typed his number in, his contact name ripping another chuckle from you.
John - the guy from biochem
You knew straight away that this boy was going to weasel his way into your life quicker then anyone else had before.
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PAST - MID 2019
The year after you had met John passed by quickly - the two of you spending any limited free time you had together. John had quickly introduced you to the world of hockey three weeks after you met when he invited you to come to one of his games, a single student ticket in his hand as he waited for you to take it.
And after forty two hours of researching hockey obsessively you had shown up to the game in the classic crimson and white school colours watching number 12 race around the ice with his teammates.
You were quick to discover a love for Johns favourite sport - the game fast paced and easier to follow than you expected and John was quick to invite you to every home game in the near future - a ticket to the game slipped into your notebook after every biochem class the two of you had together - but still John never asked the question that sat in the back of your mind.
It was mid summer break after the 2018 - 2019 semester when a phone call had changed everything.
‘John - the guy from biochem is calling’
“Is now a good time to talk?” He had said when you answered the call, and you had quickly excused yourself from the family barbecue to move to a quieter area of the house.
“What’s up?” You say softly but you can feel your heart racing in your chest. A silence falls over the two of you as John lets out a long sigh, “John, what going on? You’re scaring me.”
“I got an offer.”
“You what?”
“I got an offer for a contract with Pittsburgh.” You can almost hear the way your heart shatters at his words - he was leaving?
“John that’s amazing.” You say softly, slowly taking a seat on your mothers couch, you thumb lifting to your mouth as you naw on the skin besides your nail, “I mean this is your dream, this is what you’ve been working for.” You add quickly, a small bubble of genuine excitement bubbling beneath your broken heart.
“I don’t know if I’m going to take it.”
“What? You can’t not take it John, this is your shot.” You frown as you press your phone harder against your ear.
“Yeah I know, but what about—” He pauses.
“What about what, John? This is the NHL we’re talking about here, not some home town rec league” He lets out a long groan, the sound seeming far away, his phone probably pulled away from his face.
“I’m not good at this stuff.” He admits quietly, his phone pressed back to his ear, and you wait - patiently - like you always do for him to continue. “I want you to come with me.” The words are not something you expected to hear today or any day for that matter.
“What the fuck?” You didn’t mean to say the words, they just sort of slipped out.
Having a close friendship and borderline flirtation with John for almost two years you expected him to ask you sooner to be his girlfriend - to make things official - but he never had and you were to chicken to ask him the question - so you had decided for the two of you that maybe friendship was all you needed.
Clearly you might’ve been wrong.
“What are you talking about? I don’t think I’m following.”
“I called you today because I want you to come with me to Pittsburg” he pauses for a moment before correcting himself, “I mean I wanted to ask you if you’d come to Pittsburg with me.” John explains and your hand drops back to your side, your mouth falling open as you sputter to find a response.
“I already looked into it and there is a school for nursing at the university of Pittsburgh and they except transfers and with the the offer they’re giving me I’ll be able to cover all our expenses, you wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job if you didn’t want to or you could wait till you settle in if you wanted some extra money to put in savings” You still can’t find anything to say, listening to John rambling, his voice getting softer and softer as he speaks, “Anyway, what I’m trying to say that if I can’t have you with me then I don’t want it.”
“John, I don’t know what to say.” Is all you can manage, not knowing which of your emotions to latch onto.
Anger that he’s leaving and this is how he’s telling you.
Sad that he’s leaving and this is how he’s telling you.
Angry again that he’s leaving and this is how he’s telling you.
And mainly happy that he’s achieving his dreams and he doesn’t want to leave you behind.
“We never really talked about this before.” You say honestly, your head lifting as your mum walks into the living room, her eyes questioning as tears well on your waterline. “John, this is really out of the blue.”
“I know, I know and that’s my fault - I was going to tell you how I felt before summer break but I just couldn’t shake the idea that you didn’t feel the same and I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” Your mum takes a seat next to you on the couch, a supportive hand on your back rubbing in circles as a few tears drop from your eyes.
“Have I upset you?” His voice is questioning, a small quiver at the end of the question and your tears fall a little harder.
“No, no.” You reassure, lifting a hand to wipe at your face, “It’s just a lot to take in right now, I just need to think for a minute.”
“Okay, that’s okay.” He begins a shaky breath escaping him as he adds, “I can wait for you - no matter how long it takes.” You mum is patting your back as you wipe furiously at your face. The phone call ends, and you turn to your mother, a soft smile on your face as she tucks your hair behind your ears.
“John got an offer in Pittsburg.” You say a bitter smile on your face, your eyes shining with tears. You mother just waits for you to continue, “He wants me to go with him.” You explain, taking in a long breath and letting out a short shaking one, “And I think I want to go.” Your mothers smile brightens as she pulls you in for a hug, reassuring you that everything would be fine, that it can all be figured out in time.
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PAST - EARLY 2020
“John, I don't know about this.” You say as you fiddle with the straps of the light blue dress - John stood behind you tugging on the zipper, cursing under his breath as the zipper catches again. “Maybe I just shouldn’t go.”
You want to cry.
The move to Pittsburgh had been more stressful than you were anticipating - Nursing School was kicking your ass with late hours on placement and early morning classes and you hadn’t been eating very well, the freshman 15 hitting you about three years too late.
“I want you to come - and you’ll finally get to meet everyone.” John had said excitedly finally getting the zipper on the dress up with a triumphant grin. “You look stunning.” He whispers as he turns you to face him, pushing your fringe away from your face.
“You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.” You joke, poking him in the ribs as you glance over at the clock. The ride to the venue was longer than either of you anticipated - John glancing over at you every now and then as he drives, one hand tangled with yours as he presses soft kisses to your knuckles.
“If you hate it we can leave.” He finally mumbles as the car pulls up to the hotel - the bottom floor casino rented out entirely for this event. The two of you slide out of the car and make your way past the valet and into the event.
You weren’t sure how this was supposed to work for a charity event - everyone was dressed above and beyond, your simple satin dress making you feel naked as you looked over all the sparkling gowns and black and white tuxedos. “I thought they said this was a cocktail event.” You hiss as the two of you enter smiling at the people who greet you.
“I thought it was.” John says obviously as confused as you were.
“Oh, Johnny, we never thought you’d make it.” A higher pitched voice says from the crowd, the two of you glancing around until you spot the long legged blonde making their way towards you.
“That’s Hannah, one of the wives.” He clarifies, and you nod, putting a bright smile on your face as she stops in front of the two of you. She leans forwards placing two soft kisses on John’s cheeks before turning towards you.
“I see you brought a friend.”
“Um, this is my girlfriend, she moved here with me after I signed.” John says quickly, his hand placed on your back as you offer your hand in greeting. Hannah glances at you, her eyes raking over you before she just nods with a tight smile.
“Well it’s not quite the look we’re going for but it’ll do.” She said dismissively, your eyebrows raise in surprise as you lean closer to John.
“Did she just call me an ‘it’?” John's brows furrow as he takes in the older woman, his nose wrinkling as she flags down a waiter. “John, don’t.” You say as you notice his mouth open to say something.
“I’m sorry, but what you just said was extremely rude.” The words are out of John’s mouth before you can slap your hand over his lips to keep them closed, “And my girlfriend isn’t an ‘it’ she’s a human being and deserves respect.” Hannah snaps her gaze away from the waiter back towards the two of your, a glare centred on you.
“I mean no offence, but the wives and girlfriends pride themselves on keeping a level of class when dressing for events - we hold ourselves to a certain level of maintenance.” She pauses for a moment, “The dress is doing you no favours, my dear. No matter, It’s an easy fix, I’ll send you the number of a great weight loss dietician that I know..” She waves off John’s shocked expression taking a sip from the champagne flute handed to her.
“What do you mean by that?” John’s in too deep now, taking a step in front of you, his body covering you as he stares down his teammate's wife.
“You know what I don’t want to know - she’s beautiful the way she is and neither of us want you to ‘fix’ anything.” You watch as the woman turns a light shade of pink, clearly not prepared for John’s fight.
“Johnny, I’m just saying that us partners should be taking care of ourselves - we want our men to be proud to stand next to us.” The comment is the straw that breaks the camel's back, your hands slipping away from the back of John’s suit, your arms crossing over your chest, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
John’s speechless at Hannah’s words, his eyes flaming with anger as his teammate steps up besides his wife, “Keep your asshole of a wife away from my girlfriend.” John spits, the man looking at the defence man in shock before turning to his wife with a pointed look.
You don’t wait any longer to see what is said as you turn and exit the hotel, John quick on your heels as he follows you out.
“Where are you going?” He asks, his long legs carrying him much faster than you can move in your thin heels.
“Anywhere but here.” You respond, letting out a sigh as John grabs hold of your arm tugging you to a stop. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.” You add, biting down on your lip as it begins to quiver.
“Don’t listen to that crazy old bat.” John soothes, his hand sliding down your arm to grab hold of your hand, his other cupping it as he brings it to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses on your skin.
“But maybe she’s right, John. I mean it’s clear I’ve gained weight, and I’m either at school or work and we barely even get to spend time together anymore - maybe I’m just not made to be a hockey wife.” Your words are strained as you fight back your insecurities, “You deserve so much more.”
“No.” John shakes his head at your words, his hand cupping yours tightly. “I don’t want anyone else.” He sighs as you open your mouth to speak, shaking his head again.
“You moved all the way here for me and you changed the entire course of your education for me.” John begins, “You work ten hours a day for free to achieve your dream plus you study on top of all that, and you still manage to support me in everything I’m doing.” You let out a shaky sob, one of John’s hands releasing your to wipe at your tears.
“If anything - you deserve so much more.” John continues, his breathing heavy as his own tears start to gather, “Baby, I am so proud to be seen with you - and I told you, if I can’t have you with me, then I don’t want it.” Your tears are falling freely now, John following close behind as he pulls you towards him, wrapping his arms around you as you bury your head in his chest, his hands soothing against your back.
“I’m ready to go now.” You grumble against John’s now wet dress shirt, a soft chuckle escaping him as he pulls his valet ticket from his pocket.
+
+
PRESENT - EARLY 2024
“Pittsburg wasn’t the greatest - but it helped John grow as a player and we’re both so excited to be here now.” You say to Luke, his eyes soft as he reaches out, the lanky man wrapping you in a hug. You shoot a glance over at John who tries to stifle a laugh behind his hand.
“I’m glad you’re here too.” Luke says, “I just know everyone here is gonna love you.” He quietly adds finally releasing you as he nods at John, “Man if someone talked to my girlfriend like that I’d lose it.”
“Tell me about it.” John agrees, taking a sip of the drink he had wandered off the get when you first started telling Luke your story.
“Have you met any of the WAGs yet?” Luke asks, turning back to you, your head shaking quickly in response.
“We’ve texted but I haven’t met anyone in person.”
“Perfect.” Luke says as he takes hold of your hand, setting it gently against his elbow before surveying the crowd. “Ooh, there’s Reanee.” Luke drags you away from your boyfriend quickly, giving you a run down on each WAG before he introduces you to them.
In total it takes Luke almost an hour and a half to track down every wife and player - introducing you personally, John following the two of you around smiling until his cheeks hurt at each warm welcome you receive. Managing to convince Luke to release you for twenty minutes for a drink and bathroom break, John pulls you towards the bar leaning down to whisper softly in your ear.
“Seems like you are made to be a hockey wife.”
#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl#nhl fic#john marino#john marino fanfic#john marino x reader#john marino imagine#prompt#prompt request
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Act Naturally
Summary: Lucy has always had a crush on her dad's favorite actor, Cooper Howard. So imagine her surprise when the Western actor ends up as her new husband.
Pairings: Pre-War Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean
Warnings: None yet? I just really wanted to see Prewar Cooper with Lucy. Let's pretend and have fun. ❤️
Cooper doesn't remember how he signed up to be put inside a big ass freezer, or how being frozen constituted being a "good" vault as his late wife once put it. But he was here now, and the actor would do his best to make the best of it.
After "moving" from Vault 31 to Vault 32, Cooper had little time to settle in before he was being summoned to the overseer's office and being informed that he'd been selected to partake in Vaults 32 and 33's arranged marriage program. He would be paired with a young woman named Lucy Maclean and would be expected to help "rehabilitate" America when the time came.
Cooper thought it all sounded like a load of horse shit, but he sighed and went along with it. He didn't have the will to fight against it right now, not when it still felt he was trying to wake up from the longest nap in his life. So, he waited at the back of the line of other vault dwellers for the massive cog door to spin open so that he could meet his new wife.
He doesn't pay much attention to what his overseer is saying. His gaze has already been caught by the dark-haired beauty that stands just behind Vault 33's overseer. She's pale with big brown eyes and in a classic wedding dress and cute white heels. He watches her rock back and forth on them, a nervous blush painting her cheeks pink.
"So um. Who am I marrying?" She blurts at some point, and Cooper already feels endearment curl in his chest. She was adorable.
He takes that as his cue to step out into the light, a friendly smile on his face as he stands before Lucy. He isn't expecting the young woman's face to explode in a blush, her eyes going wide and a hand slapping over her mouth as if she can't believe what she's seeing. Cooper raises a brow, confused, and looks down to see if he's got something on his suit.
"You didn't tell me I'd be marrying Cooper Howard, Dad," Lucy hisses, tone dripping in accusation.
*notes* just something short and cute I couldn't stop thinking about. They'll be another part eventually 😄*
#cooper howard#fallout#fallout prime#fallout tv series#lucy maclean#ghoulcy#cooper howard x lucy maclean#cooper x lucy
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Love Story
Count Alexei Vronsky x wife!reader
Summary: When you start feeling insecure, your husband reminds you just how much he loves you.
Genre: SMUT (nsfm)
Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), kissing, praising, passionate/sensual sex, kinda cock-warming, breeding kink, they already have a daughter, porn basically no plot for this one <3
Under the Moscow snow, the shine of Count Alexei Vronksy's blue eyes matching his army uniform is always eagerly anticipated by the women, and men, in the station.
Of course, The Count's reputation is widely known around Russia. He is a player. A womanizer. A handsome gentleman who could have an lady he possibly desired.
You had believed those rumors once and sometimes, even as you lay in bed with him now, that dainty, sparkling, promise sitting pretty on your bedside table, you wonder if there's still some truth in them.
It feels unfair to think that way now. Alexei is your husband. He'd married you, and not by force or by convenience, but because he's madly in love with you.
Since the moment you met him, he had never stopped showing you how much he loved you—so why couldn't you fully believe him?
"Alexei?" you whisper into the darkness of the room, turning onto your stomach and gently running the ends of your fingers on his chest until he stirs. You smile when he nuzzles into you in his half-asleep state and mumbles incoherent words into your hair.
"Honey," you say a little louder and lean down to kiss him behind his ear, moving his blond hair to the side. Once he feels your lips on his skin, he opens his eyes and automatically tilts his head to capture your lips in his.
Alexei kisses you and then sits up, running a hand in his curls. "What is it, my dove?" he asks gently, his voice thick and hoarse from being asleep.
"Why did you marry me?"
It sounds like an even stupider question said aloud than when you had said it in your head. Alexei must find it stupid too because he laughs, his eyes flittering. "Because I love you, принцесса (princess)."
"Yes, I understand, but why?"
"Why?" Alexei is fully awake now and his hand has found a way into your hair as he gently massages your scalp, trying desperately to soothe whatever worries you have out of your head.
"Why do you love me? What do you love about me?” It feels selfish to ask this, very egotistical in some way, but you yearn to know the answer, "Why have me when you can have anyone you wish?"
Your husband grins, "Anyone? You think so highly of me."
"It is because it is true,"
"Well, I don't want just anyone," he hums and you feel his hand slide down to caress your cheek and pull your head up so that you can see him in the dim light of the moon from your bedroom window, "I want you."
You open your mouth to ask why again but Alexei kisses you. He mumbles into your mouth once he catches his breath and says, "God, I adore your lips. I love how they're always so soft and eager for me.”
Your cheeks burn and you muffle a moan.
Alexei's hand slides down your neck and your body, his fingers trailing between your breasts and down your stomach. You're wearing his favorite silky nightgown—easy access—he likes to tease and when you remember this, you become flustered all over again.
In one motion, your husband is on top of you, his weight resting on his forearm as he looks at you with sleepy eyes and kisses your forehead.
"I love this, and this," he kisses your cheekbone, and then your nose, followed by the corner of your eye, "and this and this," he continues as you giggle and squirm.
Alexei lifts himself and smiles at you fondly, "May I?” he teases again, sliding his hand down the curves of your sides and thighs, until he plays with the hem of your nightgown. You look up at him, eyes wide and glassy—the portrait of femininity and innocence.
You nod and his hand slips under, finding what he's looking for. He smiles and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your cheek.
"I love all of you, my dove. Including this pretty pussy," Alexei smirks triumphantly as his fingers start exploring your folds. You're already aroused and you squeeze your legs around his hand as if to hide that admission of guilt. Your husband just smiles and opens your thighs again.
"No, my lovely, I want to see you," he murmurs and moves to hook his arm under your thighs as he shifts further down the bed and his breath is warm on your skin. You shiver, your breathing becoming harsh as you squeeze the sheets in your hands and try calming your harsh breathing.
"Муж (husband)!" you gasp, arching as you feel his lips on your sensitive skin.
Alexi smirks and kisses your pussy again, his hands tightening on your thigh. "Жена (wife)," he smirks and licks up your folds. "I want to worship you like you deserve," he smiles and continues to use his tongue.
He takes his time, making sure you're open and dripping for him as he licks your juices until his mustache is slick with your arousal. Alexi looks up, his hair falling in front of your eyes as he sends you a devilish smirk and licks his lips before he dives in again, eating you out like a starved man.
You whimper and moan the entire time, feeling weak as you're so close to breaking. Your hands find your husband's hair, tugging gently as your back arches away from the mattress and you let out broken whimpers. The moonlight shines on Alexei's bare back as he continues to suck and licks with fervor.
"I'm close," you whimper.
This causes Alexei to shake his head and he sits up. Your eyelids flutter and you whine at the loss of contact until you feel an all-too-familiar sensation and you gasp.
He's pressing himself into you and your eyes snap open to watch him as he does so. "I want you to finish when I'm inside you, my love. I want to fill you up with my seed. You're gonna give me more pretty children, aren't you, принцесса (princess)?"
You nod, holding him close as you feel him inside you. You rock your body in time with his, fucking him passionately as he holds you and his lips press to your ear. "You feel delightful, my lovely. Such a good little wife for me. You're all I want," he mumbles, his breathing heavy and harsh as he snaps his hips into yours.
Alexei nips at your skin, smiling as he moans, "You look so pretty carrying my child. So claimed. Claimed as mine. My woman," he chuckles and thrusts into you harder, earning small whimpers of pleasure from you, "Gonna give Klara a sibling, hmm? Gonna make our little angel a big sister for me, won't you? Make me proud? Show everyone how well you carry my child?"
"Yes," you whisper breathlessly and that's all it takes for Alexei to finish inside you with a growl, causing your own pleasure to crash over you in waves as you hold him closer. You're both panting as he collapses onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his cock twitches inside you a little.
"I love you," he kisses your cheek, his hair tickling your skin, "Please, never doubt how much I love you, my love. You understand me?" His hand caresses your cheek and you hum, too exhausted to even think of arguing with him. You feel like you're in heaven. Alexei takes your silence as an understanding and looks at you as he kisses your lips.
"Go back to sleep now, lovely. It's still early," he says as it is still dark outside.
"Alexei," you murmur, squirming a little when he stays inside you but he holds your hips down so you're still.
"Just a little longer, dove, I want to make sure it works," he chuckles and makes a few slow thrusts just to fuck his cum deeper inside you.
You whine at the feeling, your pussy already sore from his size and your previous orgasm. Still, you turn your head and nuzzle into the pillows as exhaustion takes over and your husband's warmth spreads across your skin. His sweet voice lulls you to sleep with praises and his lips kiss your neck.
"You're my happiness," he whispers with a smile.
#count alexei vronsky x reader#count vronsky x reader#count alexei vronsky#alexei vronsky fluff#alexei vronsky x you#alexei vronsky x reader#alexei vronsky#alexei vronsky smut#count alexei vronsky smut#aaron taylor johnson fic#aaron taylor johnson fanfiction#aaron taylor johnson#anna karenina 2012#anna karenina#count alexei vronsky x y/n#count vronsky x fem!reader#count vronsky smut#alexei vronsky x fem!reader#count vronsky
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Modern Lonliness
Major John Egan x reader
Warnings - little bit of angst, but mostly fluff
Word count - 2159
a/n - this was literally supposed to be posted over a month ago for the ending of MOTA, but I kept writing for Austin lol. Might as well get it out the drafts now. I also basically had to rewrite the whole thing bc wtf was I thinking a month ago. I hope you enjoy :)
The war is finally over, allowing all the soldiers to go home, including the two best friends Buck and Bucky. The only thing holding Bucky back from being completely content about leaving is the fact that he doesn’t have that special someone to go back to.
Buck has Marge, and of course he’s happy for him, but Bucky just wishes had found a girl before he got sent off, someone who would know how he was before the war. Buck would always tell him not to worry and that he would find someone soon, but each time it doesn’t give him any reassurance.
You have been best friends with Marge since college, so when she told you her fiance was coming home you had nothing but joy for her. You had been a huge supporter of their relationship since the beginning, and while Buck was away you were always at her house comforting her for when she cried or just needed a friend. During his absence, Buck would write to you to check in on Marge because you and him both knew Marge would never tell him how she was really doing.
Currently, you are walking out of her front door to go back home when you see a taxi pull up in the driveway. You didn’t think anything of it until you saw Buck exiting the vehicle with his bags in hand. You shout for Marge to come outside, and it doesn’t take long for her to sprint into Buck’s arms after seeing him in the driveway. With a smile, you watched as he held onto her tightly and so lovingly, knowing this is exactly what Marge needed after a bad week.
Deep down, though, you were wishing you had someone coming home to you, someone whose arms you could run into and kiss you like his life depended on it. When it came to the dating scene you never had much luck, so after a while you just accepted the defeat and gave up, deciding it was better to put your energy towards your career.
During your girl talks, Marge would always tell you that you would find someone soon, and how perfect of a person you were, but year after year of not finding a relationship was making it hard to believe her.
A couple days after Buck’s return, Marge invited you over because she was hosting a barbeque for Buck and some of his friends. You tried your best to get out of it, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She also mentioned that Bucky – Buck’s friend from the military who you’ve only heard while reading letters – would be there and that it would be an opportunity for you.
You didn’t find it unusual that she was trying to set you up with someone because this is what she always does, but you just weren’t in the mood to have small talk with a guy who probably wouldn’t find you attractive.
When Buck had invited Bucky – because when are they not together – he turned down the offer, and just like Marge, Buck wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
So, now here you were in Marge’s backyard surrounded by men and their partners. The only people you knew were the hosts, so you sat on the steps of the back porch with Marge beside you. Marge also didn’t know many of the guests given the fact everyone was Buck’s friend from the military, so she kept you company as she watched Buck man the grill with a few other guys beside him.
Bucky was among them, standing right next to his best friend and sipping on a beer as he talked. Every now and again, he would run a hand through his hair to push some of his loose curls, and you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive as you found yourself admiring him from a distance.
“Are you going to say something to him?” Marge asked you as she swished around the lemonade in her glass. She had been watching you this whole time as you practically drooled in the direction of the grill.
“Of course not,” you say as you turn your attention back to her, not before glancing around to see if anyone else had caught you staring.
Thankfully some of the women had formed a little group and were laughing and gossiping amongst themselves, so there was little chance anyone had noticed you.
“And why not?” asked Marge with furrowed brows. “He’s a nice guy, I promise.”
“I’m sure he is, but it’s not like I know what to say. Plus look at him, he’s way out of my league,” you reply as you take a sip of lemonade from your own glass.
“No he’s not, he’s just like any other guy,” she scoffs followed by a laugh.
“And just like with any other guy, I have nothing to talk about. What do we even have in common? He also just got back from a war camp in Europe, what if I say something that triggers him?
“You’re overthinking. Just start off with a simple hello, and then go from there. He’s a huge flirt so knowing him he’ll do most of the talking,” she smiles.
She was always so optimistic about these kinds of things, but you would be too if you were getting married to a guy who basically worships you.
You quickly finish the last of your lemonade before standing up. “I’m going to get a refill,” you mumble as you walk up the steps and into the house. You needed an excuse to get away from the conversation, and to get out of the heat. The sundress you were wearing was cute and gave you airflow, but it also exposed your arms and legs to harsh sun.
You head into the kitchen and open the fridge to take out the pitcher of lemonade Marge had made earlier in the day. After refilling your glass, you thought it was best to linger in the kitchen for a bit longer and decided to grab a plate of fruit out of the fridge to keep you busy.
Just as you jump up on the kitchen counter to get comfortable, you hear the back door opening. Next thing you know, you see Bucky walking into the kitchen, letting out a sigh that seems to be of exhaustion. He flashes you a smile when he notices you, before proceeding to grab another beer out of the fridge.
“You’re Marge’s friend right?” he asks as he shuts the door and turns to face you.
“Yep,” is all you say before sticking a grape in your mouth.
“I’m John, but everyone calls me Bucky,” he says. He makes direct eye contact as sticks a hand out for you to shake, which you do, before popping the cap off his beer.
“So I’ve heard. I’ve seen your picture in Marge’s letters,” you respond as you focus your attention on the plate in your hands and begin moving some fruit around.
“Oh, yeah? Did I atleast look good in those pictures? Buck never lets me read his letters,” He smirks as he leans against the counter opposite from you.
You almost choke on the piece of fruit you had just placed in your mouth from his statement. You feel your face and ears turning warm so you turn your head and look out the kitchen window to avoid his gaze.
You stop yourself from smiling and cover it by clearing your throat. “Well you were in a uniform and in black and white, so I couldn’t really tell.”
“Understandable, black and white photos can be misleading,” he jokes, taking a swig from his bear. There’s a short silence that follows that isn’t completely awkward, but not exactly comfortable to you either. You hope he doesn’t notice.
The silence is interrupted by the back door opening and Marge sticking her head inside. She grins as her eyes flicker between you and Bucky before stopping on you to say, “Are you coming back out or what?”
“In a second, I’m just going to cool off in here for a bit,” you tell her. She gives you a nod before closing the door.
“Not a fan of big gatherings, I take it,” Bucky says once Marge is gone.
“What makes you say that?” you steal a glance at him before looking back out the window.
You smile as you watch Marge join Buck at the grill, making him turn his head to give her a quick kiss.
“I can tell you’re avoiding going back outside, and I don’t blame you. I’m doing the same thing myself,” he answers.
“What are you avoiding?” you finally turn your head to face him.
“Nothing specific really, I’m just not in the mood for conversating and answering people’s questions right now. That doesn’t include you though,” he looks over at you with a small smile. ” I used to love being around people and having fun, but now all I want to do is leave.”
You watch as Bucky stares at the wall, going distant. His mood seems to have shifted from the one he had when he first stepped foot in the kitchen. “Everything okay?”
Your voice interrupts his thoughts and brings him back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine…I’m just…I can tell I’m a different person ever since I got back, and I’m not sure I like this version of me.” He sets his beer on the counter and folds his arms, no longer in the mood to drink it.
“I don’t think anyone expects you to be the same.”
“Well yeah, it’s just the fact that everyone I meet from now on will only know this version of me. They won’t know how different I was before the war, and they won’t understand what I’ve been through. Like Buck has Marge to talk to, and she understands because of the letters he would send her. I don’t have that,” Bucky says before adding, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to dump this all on you.”
You just give him a smile. Even though you will never understand completely what Bucky went through, you do have some grasp on what he’s feeling. To you it’s obvious that he puts on a mask when he’s around people, and won’t let his feelings show unless he’s alone – harboring his emotions.
“I know how close you are with Buck, have you ever told him about how you felt? It always helps to talk to someone.” you tell him.
He shakes his head, “No, I don’t want to bother him. He has his own problems.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” you tell him, but he just shakes his head again. “Well...I know we’ve just met, but you could talk to me. I mean, you just opened up to me in a kitchen within ten minutes of meeting me. I’m obviously a great listener Only if you want to, though,” you end with a hopeful smile.
Bucky finally looks away from the wall to look you in the eye with his eyebrows raised. “Really?” he asks and you nod. “That would be nice.”
And that’s where the bond between the two of you started, and it only continued to grow stronger. You would meet up with him for drinks, lunch, or just for a walk through the park. Bucky would tell you everything, from him joining the military and meeting Buck to what he has experienced throughout the past few years. You could tell that he would get emotional when he brought up certain topics, but he never cried around you, even though you always encouraged him to let his feelings out.
One day when he invited you to dinner, you brought it up to Marge. She quickly got excited and said it was a date, but you just brushed it off and told her it was just another casual meeting. Nonetheless, you still decided to put effort into your appearance – more than you normally do – and once the dinner was over, you realized she was right.
Bucky ended up confessing to you how his feelings for you have grown over the past few weeks. At first you were shocked, but when you realized he was being serious, you admitted that you felt the same way.
You didn’t care that Bucky thought he was a ruined person with a lot of baggage, everyone has their hardships, after all. Bucky loved how you enjoyed being with him after everything he had told you, and how you accepted him for who he is now.
When you eventually told Marge that you and Bucky were official, she wasn’t surprised at all and brought up how she always said you would find someone. When Bucky had told his best friend, Buck was happy for him and gave Bucky his fair share of I told you so’s.
#callum turner x reader#callum turner#callum turner imagine#major john egan x reader#major john egan#mota#mota fanfic#mastersoftheair#austin butler x reader#major gale cleven#austin butler
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