#asp fic
Text
A Point of War
Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader RPF
Summary: Chris plays dirty when you have your first big fight as a married couple.
This is part four of the A Starting Point Series.
Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI. SMUT, RPF. Consensual angry sex, edging, cock warming, orgasm denial, voice kink, angst, a lil bit of degradation, a lil bit of pain kink, back scratching, thigh riding, oral, (m/f) receiving, sloppy toppy, Angst, sexual day dreaming, breeding kink, kiss and make up. Not Beta’d.
A/N: I have so many WIPS, but this ask made me break a long streak of not writing.
Thank you Nonnie! ❤️
Notice: I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.
DO NOT COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.
Chris awakened you early to make you late this morning. You’d only had two hours of sleep, but he didn’t care. Sleep deprivation was a tactic of war.
He languidly rocked his cock deep inside you, stroking his heavy member through your folds until you were both almost insane. Chris had edged you both all morning, stopping before either of you could cum, and making you warm him until he was ready to do it again.
After three times of bringing you both to the edge of heaven, both of you were desperate.
“Please Angel… just say you agree. Then we can both delight in married bliss.”
Chris was between your legs, digging you out, your legs around his waist as his thick mushroom cap and veiny shaft sleeked in and out of your tight, wet channel.
“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. And you’re so beautiful for me when you c-”
Chris looked in your eyes and clenched his jaw. He couldn’t speak. It was almost enough to make you cum. But you just shook your head.
He shook his in response and frowned, moving his lage hand up to cup the side of your face. You pouted and he pushed his thick thumb between your lips and you sucked it greedily, causing him to pulse inside you.
He stopped and you could feel his cock pounding. You whimpered around his thumb and your saliva slipped down your face and his palm.
“I can’t.. I’m gonna…. Don’t you wanna…?”
The Boston came out as you were stripping away his resolve. You opened your mouth wide and swiped your tongue around his thick digit lewdly, then closed your mouth to suck if from palm to fingertip. You moved your hips to try and get him going and Chris��s hand gripped you tightly, sure to leave marks later.
“My feisty, stubborn Angel. It only makes me want you more.”
You glared at him.
“The answer is still no, Chris…
Chris squeezed his eyes shut as a drizzle of precum escaped out of him. He started panting as he fought the urge to let go and fuck you into the mattress. He needed release as much as you did, but you were both too stubborn to relent.
Chris rolled his eyes at the sensation and saw the clock on the wall.
“Shit, Angel. I’m gonna be late.”
He bent down and whispered into your ear, knowing what his voice did to you.
“All you gotta do is say yes, and we can both get what we need.”
He rotated his hips to give you all of his dick. You gripped his shoulders and drew your nails down his back, drawing welts and a little bit of blood. The sensation made him groan and pump into you hard a few times, giving you hope of victory until he stopped.
Chris slipped out of you and rushed into the shower, dodging your epithets and the pillow thrown at him. You tried to make yourself cum, but you were so frustrated and needy that it didn’t work.
When he got out, you just walked past him into the shower, dodging the kiss he tried to give you as you passed by.
When you emerged, he was gone, leaving you a note that made you cry.
Now, seven hours later, you shifted in your seat and felt how deliciously sore you were. You wanted to relent, but the principle of the matter was what was important, not your wanton body and his huge, thick dick hitting your spot….
Damn. It would feel so good to just give in. You sighed. You were angry at him after this morning; not just angry, you were incensed.
It didn’t help that you were trapped in an ASP partners meeting ahead of a big campaign for mid-term elections. So, you sucked up all your feelings and tried to be professional, sneaking a look at him through your lashes.
You frowned slightly to find him watching you with a barely perceptible smirk.
Damn him.
You took a breath, hitched with desire, and straightened in your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris open his mouth slightly to breathe, and it was your turn to smirk.
“Alright, on to the next order of business.”
Mark looked around the table as you looked down at your notepad, trying to collect your thoughts on the meeting. You were not trying to make eye contact with Chris. You’d managed to avoid him most of the day, and had come into the conference room at the last minute to be on time for it, grateful that the only seat available was across the table from him.
You were on the edge, and Christopher Robert Evans put you there. Before you knew it, you’d spaced out. Your pussy throbbed as you thought of the last time he skillfully ate you out as you sucked his cock. 69 was his favorite position, and you knew that putting the end of your pen in your mouth might just remind him. You subtly flicked your tongue around the fat end of the Montblanc pen and heard Chris cover a moan with a fake cough.
Chris’ deep baritone made your clit quiver when he spoke up.
…” I don’t know, Joe. Why don’t we ask Mrs. Evans?”
You glared at Chris and then realized everyone was watching. You cleared your throat and suppressed the urge to roll your eyes at him. You sat up even straighter.
“Run that back for me again Joe?”
You ignored Chris’s smile as Joe made his point again and you answered him, giving your opinion on the issue and a possible solution so smoothly, everyone would think that you were the calmest person on the planet. But you were plotting war.
You successfully ignored your husband as the meeting was wrapped up and started to leave the conference room as Chris called you over to him, Joe and Mark.
“Y/N! We want to talk about your idea for a second.”
You gave Chris a bright, fake smile and he subtly shook his head at you. Mark spoke up when you made your way over to them.
“You made some very salient points, y/n, let’s get moving on those right away.”
Mark was impressed with your work, as always.
“Agreed,” intoned Chris, who nodded at you and tried to hold your eyes. You narrowed yours, knowing that he’d made his voice a little deeper on purpose.
But you weren’t going. The tension was obvious. You continued.
“Thanks guys. I can do that, but I would need…”
When you gave them your list, they all nodded.
“Sounds reasonable, let’s you and I sit back down at the table and hash it out. Mark, Joe. Can you guys take the 4:30 call for me? Give them my apologies?”
Joe nodded and proceeded out of the room.
“They’re gonna be disappointed, but I’ll try to do my best impression of you.”
Chris and Mark laughed at Joe’s joke, but you just continued to smile.
Then Mark made to leave, smiling at you two, knowing, but amiable. He and Joe admired the way you handled the press and lack of privacy since your relationship with Chris was announced.
You’d weathered the whirlwind of a three month engagement and an equally short marriage to one of the most famous men in the world like a champ. Once Chris’ friends and partners were told what was up, they saw the bond between you and Chris and it all made sense.
What Mark also sensed was that Chris was about to get the business, so he left you two alone.
When the door closed, you dropped the smile and moved to the furthest point away from Chris on the conference room table, sat down, and opened your pen again, ready to get to work.
Chris sighed and walked toward you.
“Let’s hash it out then.”
You’d started writing even though you knew what he was referring to. You saw America’s Ass sit down on the table next to your notebook out of the corner of your eye. You kept writing.
“So are you giving me the silent treatment?”
You looked up at him, the look in those blue eyes threatening your resolve.
“I’ve responded to everything you’ve said to me Christopher.”
You held his stare, your own jaw ticking under your clenched teeth.
He drew in a breath.
“‘Christopher.’ Damn, I am in trouble.”
Chris chuckled, but you were resolute.
“Maybe I should call you, ‘Mr. Happy Wife, Happy Life.’”
Chris stood up.
“Why are you still so adamant? You want the fight. Am I that wrong for wanting you to take my name? I’ve been waiting to call you Mrs. Evans for what seems like forever. Excuse my giddiness for finally being hitched to the woman I love more than anything in the world.”
You looked up at him and studied the look on his face. He looked wounded. But you didn’t buy it. You stood up as well.
“You’re good. Acting the victim. Except for the fact we talked about this, Chris! “
You wanted to keep your maiden name for your professional life. Chris didn’t like it at all, but didn’t push it until late last night, the night before your first day back in the office together as man and wife.
Hence the argument that lasted until very late and then the hours-long edging session early this morning. That was war. You thought he was incorrigible when you were dating, Chris was so much more frustrating as your husband. You felt that nothing you could do would satisfy him.
“I’m sorry that I’m not living up to your fantasy of me. But you knew what you were getting. And still you insisted on getting married.”
Chris’s face contorted. His heart was in his throat.
“Why do you insist on doing that?”
Chris threw his hands up and raised his voice, moving toward you. You cringed. He immediately backed up and sighed, running his hands through his hair.
“I love you Y/N.. I wanted you to be my wife from the moment I saw you. And I just wanted…”
He sat down in the nearest chair, loosening his tie.
“It doesn’t matter what I wanted. Never mind. I don’t care what you call yourself. As long as you’re by my side.”
He looked up at you and you could see that he was genuinely hurt. Your heart sank as he looked down to his lap.
“You win. Ms. YLN.”
He looked broken. And you felt terrible.
You walked toward him and stood between his legs.
“Chris.”
He was silent.
“Mr. Evans.”
Still no answer.
“Boss.”
He huffed and smiled slightly, shaking his head. He looked up at you.
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. You have a right to be called anything you like.”
He was sincere.
You leaned over and kissed his forehead, brushing away the hair that had fallen there after his hands wrecked it.
“I just want to be called yours.”
You kissed his nose, and then his lips as you sat down on his knee. One of Chris’s hands went up to curl around your waist and the other rested on your thigh at the hem of your pencil skirt.
“I love you. And I just got scared. I’m sorry.”
Chris’s eyes searched your face as his hand slid up your knee, long fingers almost reaching your moistening heat. You remembered your earlier hunger.
And so did he.
“Angel…Let me make it right, baby.”
He moved his lips to your neck and started peppering it with kisses, his hand reaching for your breast and teasing your nipple. You moaned as you arched your back, causing your rear to shift and make contact with the bulge in his pants.
Chris deftly moved you facing away from him, so that your legs were separated by his knee and your warm cunt was against his thigh. Both hands were on your blouse, fingering your now achingly hard nipples through the silk and the lace of your bra.
You whined and started to move on his thigh, arching your back into him and kissing him over your shoulder. You pulled away and he chased your lips as you started unbuttoning your blouse. You turned your head as Chris leaned down to your neck again.
“You know, I’ve had a fantasy of sucking you off under this table?”
Your voice was a sexy rasp that made him rock hard. Chris swallowed as he rubbed your breasts in the sheer lace La Perla bra. His forefingers and thumbs tortured your nipples as he hummed in your ear.
“Hmmmmmmm?”
“Can I suck you off under this table?”
His eyes moved over toward the door. Yours followed his.
“How much do you want to bet that no one would dare come in here knowing we were in here. Most of them have gone home. Mark and Joe are across the building. And if anyone finds us, so what? We’re married.”
You smirked as you stood up and took your shirt and bra off. The late evening sun through the windows shone on your skin as you sank down on your knees, clad in only your skirt, and cast your eyes down. Your nipples were hard as you waited for Chris to summon you. He admired you there and then moved quickly.
You smiled slightly as you heard his belt buckle clank and his zipper being opened.
“Suck me off, Mrs. Evans.”
You looked up and smiled at the impressive organ in front of you, crawling back between his legs as he slid his hand up and down his shaft a few times. You kissed up the side of his cock to the tip, which you took into your mouth before letting it slip out to moisten your lips. Then you spit on it and slurped it up again, bobbing while looking up at Chris. You moaned and deep throated it, causing Chris to moan deep in his own throat.
You enjoyed your power, so you took his cock out of your mouth, kissed it, smiled and spit on it again and started sucking hard, slurping and jacking it with your hand.
“Ah! Fuck!”
You pushed it deep in your throat and pulled him out slowly, going further and further until your nose was at the base of his cock.
You started up again, and Chris let you slurp and tease him as you jacked just the tip into your mouth. When you spit on it yet again was when Chris finally pushed your head down, causing you to roll your eyes and gag.
“Swallow.”
He held you down and you spluttered and spit on him as you came up for air.
“Choke me with it, Boss.”
Chris obliged, cursing softly as you felt his cock pulse precum down your throat.
“So sloppy in the office. Such a nasty slut for my cock, Mrs. Evans.”
“Ummmhmmmm,” You moaned and then pulled off and started sucking his balls as you jacked him faster, your saliva the perfect lube for the hand job.
When you started sucking his cock again, looking up at him as you went deep, you felt his balls draw up.
“Those eyes, Angel, shit. I need to cum.”
You straightened up and rubbed your breasts around him, smothering his dick into an erotic hug.
“You gonna fuck my face?”
“Shit!”
Chris grabbed your head and pistoned up into your mouth and down your throat, gagging you and soon shooting warm salty cum for you to swallow.
You swallowed it all like a good girl, and then leaned back on your knees smiling up at him. Chris grabbed your arm and hoisted you up on the table, pushing your skirt up around your waist, spreading your legs and moving your panties to the side. His head was between your legs in an instant and you moved your skirt out of the way as you watched his tongue slide out to meet your pussy.
As if in revenge, Chris looked up at you with those blue eyes of his as he lewdly licked a stripe from your ass to your clit, circling and then drawing it between his lips to suck. Then he closed his eyes and moaned.
He made out with your cunt until you saw stars. When he inserted two long thick fingers, palm up, easily reaching that sensitive spot inside you. You were gripping his hair at the roots with your hands and his fingers were deep in your pussy.
Both your fingers and Chris’s were curled and giving each other pleasure, causing both you to shoot your slick into his eagerly awaiting mouth. And his dick to be rock hard again.
Chris stood up and smiled at you as he wiped his mouth which was wet with your slick.
“Love that Angel food.”
Chris winked and you laughed, but not for long, because Chris spun you around and bent you over the conference room table and moved your panties to the side again.
“Talk about fantasies about this table. This is mine…fuuuuccckkkkk…”
Chris lined up with your sopping wet cunt and pushed in completely in one stroke, your wetness easing the way, but your orgasm having made you tight around his cock.
Chris dropped his head to your back and huffed for a second as his dick jumped.
“I… you never give me a chance to think…”
Chris kissed along your spine as you arched your back and tried to wiggle your ass to encourage him to move. His hands held you still.
“I know you had your implant removed….I just want to be sure… I don’t want to force you…”
Chris finally had to move because your whining and your movement was too much for him.
“Do you wanna have my….. Fuck…. Angel….”
Chris started pounding you like his life depended on it.
“Do you really wanna have my…. Shit.”
His hips stuttered.
“My baby…. Gotdamn it…”
Meanwhile, you were grabbing the table, trying to find something to hold on to before you floated away. You reached back for Chris’s tie, which had been dragging up and down your back as he fucked you. You pulled it, making him lean down toward you.
“Fuck yes… I want to be full of your babies, Chris…. Please!”
Chris started going even harder, tapping on the door to your cervix with his long, thick cock.
“Yeah? You want to be pregnant, Mrs. Evans?”
“God…yes…. Please…”
“Gonna be full and round with my kids?... Fuck… Tits all full… shittttt…..”
Chris licked his lips. He couldn’t take the image of you pregnant and shot his spend against your walls. He slumped against you and you sighed, happy beyond words.
“Can we get this moved into the house…”
You giggled as you said it and Chris laughed with you, relieved that you were on the same page.
“We’re gonna have to do something with it. It’s a write-off now.”
He stood up and got himself together while watching you lay on the table with a smile on your face.
Then, he straightened your panties, making sure to cover your cunt to keep his cum inside you. He picked up your bra and your blouse, and carefully helped you to get dressed as you sat on the table. Finally, he kissed you on your nose and your forehead as you stood up, legs wobbly. You hadn’t realized that your strappy heels were still on your feet. Chris had.
“C’mon, let’s go finish this at home.”
Chris moved to leave and you pulled on his tie again.
“Hey. I love when you call me Mrs. Evans when we’re not at work.”
Chris raised his eyebrow.
“And when we’re fucking at work.”
Chris chuckled.
“How about Mrs. YLN-Evans in professional settings?”
Chris smiled at you.
“That sounds amazing.”
You gave him a sweet peck on the lips then you pulled back to look in his eyes.
“And our babies. They’ll be Evans all the way.”
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#chris evans#ask dj#chris evans smut#chris evans imagine#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x black reader#asp fic#a starting point fic#chris evans fan fic#chris evans x reader#a starting point series
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Can I Count on Forever? ~ Chris Evans
Chris Evans x Senator Reader
Word Count ~ 4.2K
Songs: The Man by Taylor Swift; Paper Rings by Taylor Swift; Lover by Taylor Swift
Its been three years since you met Chris and today, you take one of the biggest steps of your life.
Part Three of the "Can I?" mini series - Part One // Part Two // Main Masterlist
Warnings: fluff, SMUT (p in v, oral – female receiving, slight dominance kink), mentions of cheating, accusations of cheating, political nonsense.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Just a quick message. While I have tried to keep this politically neutral, I will say that I have no idea what any real-world person’s views are and will not assume. Also, I am not an expert in politics and will not claim to be. In the US, we have an election in November. Please, inform yourself on all of your local, state and federal races and issues and remember to register and vote. You can’t complain if you don’t vote!
Your POV
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked to your destiny. It was the end of a fairy tale or the start of one, and you weren’t sure if you could get through the double doors. You thought back on your life, closed your eyes and prayed.
It had been a year since Chris proposed and it was here, your wedding day. As you woke on that bright May morning, you reached for your fiancé and found the bed empty. But a smile crossed your face. He wasn’t in the hotel with you. He was at home with Dodger and his groomsmen while you were at the hotel with your bridal party. As you stretched, there was a knock at the door. “Room service!”
Curiously, you opened the door, and the bellman pushed a cart in. “Mr. Evans asked us to deliver breakfast and champagne to you to start your special day right. Congratulations ma’am.” He stepped back out and you squealed. Opening the cover, Chris had sent your favorite breakfast, along with coffee and champagne. Savoring the meal, you sent a text to Chris.
YN: Thank you, love, for my breakfast!
My fiancé: You’re welcome. Only six more hours before I see you again and you make an honest man outta me.
You hugged the phone to your chest when your maid of honor knocked yelling for you to open.
A few hours later, you were waiting in your bridal suite, your father comes in and sees you for the first time. “Oh, my baby, you look beautiful,” tears forming in his eyes
“Thank you, daddy,” your own tears welling up.
“No, don’t cry.” He handed you a tissue. “Chris is a lucky man. I am so happy you found each other.”
The wedding planner knocked. “We’re ready for you.”
As you stood at the double doors, you thought back to how you got here. How you fought for each other, against the world. The doors opened and all you could see was Chris.
Chris POV
I stood at the altar, waiting for those doors to open again and let my beautiful girl come to me. The past three years had been a whirlwind, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. All the bridesmaids make it down the aisle and little Stella finishes with her flowers and the music changes. Everyone stands and the doors open. My jaw falls open. I can’t see anything else but her. She’s an angel, all in white, gliding on her dad’s arm. The tears are building up in my eyes at how beautiful she looked, my little senator.
Once she reached me, I could feel a tear rolling down and she reached up and wiped it away. “Please stop crying,” she whispered. “You’re gonna set me off.”
I could see her lip tremble a little bit. I kissed her hand, "I love you," I whispered.
We kept it traditional, reciting words that have been said by couples like us thousands of times over. When I slip that ring on her finger, it was like a part of me that was missing got put back and I’m overwhelmed.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Chris, you may kiss your bride.”
“Finally,” I breathed as I took her face in my hands and kissed those lips that had haunted my dreams since the first day I met her. It was perfect and when I pulled away, her lips were just a touch redder and more swollen, her eyes danced.
“I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Evans!”
The whole church cheered, and I took my wife’s hand in mine and walked out. After three years and one horrible misunderstanding, I finally have my girl on my arm as my wife.
The reception is amazing. YN and the wedding planner did a great job. It's intimate and romantic but not over the top. Her father wanted to take out a house loan to pay for whatever YN wanted but she refused. “I don’t need you to be in debt Daddy. Give me a reasonable budget and I’ll make it work.” That is my girl, always modest. But this is a once in a lifetime, if I have any say in it and I want it to be her dream. I talked to her dad on the side.
“Mr. YLN, I just want YNN to have everything she wants, so get your budget together and I’ll double it. I want this to be a gift to her but never find out, because her smile will be my thanks.”
It worked like a charm because I can see the tears in her eyes as she looks at the room and see her vision come to life. “Oh my...” she whispers. I take it all in, the crystal vases holding the red roses, tea lights on all the tables. The walls have a soft light to them, and the dance floor is decorated with lanterns and rose petals. “It's perfect.”
“It's you, my beautiful wife.”
It's hours before I can take her home, well, to our honeymoon suite. She’s exhausted, riding up in the elevator. I scoop her up in my arms, her heels already dangling in my hand. “You going to sleep, baby?”
“Hmm, no, not yet. Just tired.” She smiles at me. “It was the perfect day.”
“Oh yeah? Something important happened?” I tease as we get to our honeymoon suite.
“Not really,” she shrugged. “Just tied myself to the perfect man.”
“Sounds fun.” I had one more surprise for her. I opened the door and carried her in. The room was decorated in candles and roses, a bottle of champagne next to her favorite snack. I had always dreamt of that night we had by the fire after I had proposed. It was perfect and I wanted to recreate it for her. Except this time, the hotel laid out blankets and pillows in a beautiful bed.
“Chris,” she whispered, and I could tell she loved it.
I set her on her feet and pressed my front to her back. I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I was an idiot the first time I made love to you in front of a fire.” I found the zipper on her dress and slowly began to bring it down. “I was apologizing for being the biggest jerk in the world after you protected me. I wasn’t appreciating the setting or taking my time with you. But this time,” the zipper was down and i kissed her shoulders, “this time I want to worship you because you made me the happiest man in the world.” I pushed the bejeweled straps of her gown down and she gasped at the sudden cool air.
“Oh fuck,” I murmured as I took in the lacy white corset, teeny tiny white panties and stockings. She looked like a goddam angel that was going to send me straight to heaven. I lifted her out of the gown and spun her to look at me. “This is like a present for me,” as I run a finger over the top of the corset.
“Unwrap me Chris,” she said in a low sultry voice.
And I crumble.
Because there is no way I would say no to this gorgeous creature right now.
I kiss her softly and pull away, kissing her forehead before turning her around again. I undo the ribbon holding the corset closed and let it fall away. I kneel down and roll down the stocking and tip her foot so she can lift, and I can remove one stocking, repeating on the other. I run my hands up her legs, feeling her shiver under my touch, listening to her breath hitch. I kiss right under each cheek, giving a nibble on one.
“Chris,” she moans, “stop teasing.”
“Is that an order Senator?” I smile against her skin. “Or is it a request? Because,” I spin her again, so she is facing me while I’m still on my knees, “if it's an order, then we have a problem.”
“What problem?”
“I remember you promised me that I would only take orders from you in public.” I kissed around her belly button. She moans and her head tilts back. “But I would give the orders in our bedroom.”
“We’re not in our bedroom,” she argues. “We’re... oh.... oh fuck,” she whimpers as I kiss over the scrape of lace she calls panties and press against her mound.
“Want to try that again, Mrs. Evans?” I pull the lace down just enough so I can get my nose close to her center and inhale that scent that is only her.
“I...” she studders and I chuckle. I yank the lace away from her body, ripping them off.
“Chris!”
“No,” I say in a husky voice. “No orders from you, Mrs. Evans. You want something, you beg for it. because until we get back from our honeymoon, you are not in charge. Who is in charge?”
“Fuck,” she cries as I let my finger circle her clit. “You’re...hmm... you’re in charge.”
“Good girl.” I stood up and lifted her into my arms, wrapping her legs around me. “Such a good girl for me.” I walked us over to the fireplace bed and laid her down. I took a long look at my prize, my angel, my wife. “God, I’m a lucky bastard.”
I didn’t realize I said that out loud until she giggled. Then she grabbed the end of my undone bow tie and yanked me on top of her. She kissed me hard and then pulled away. “Please Chris, let me see my husband naked.”
“Fuck me.” I pulled the tie off, straddled her and grabbed her wrists. I tied them together and lifted her arms above the head. “Naughty girl,” I said. “No touching now. Bad girls don’t get to touch.” She wiggled under me, trying to get relief from me.
“I’m sorry, baby, please, I’m sorry. Let me touch you.”
“No.” I stood up and started to strip. I unbutton my shirt slowly, working the cufflinks she had given me as a wedding present off carefully. She licked her bottom lip and I smirked. I was shirtless, which, if she had her way, she would keep me like this every day. I moved quickly with my belt and the button of my slacks. She whimpered and I bit my bottom lip. “You should have stayed being my good girl, little senator.”
“Chris, you’re being mean,” she whined.
“Am I?” I let my pants hit the floor before I crawled up her body. I kiss her inner thighs, sucking little bruises as I go. “I’m sorry sweetheart.” I kiss right above her clit, and she bucks at the sensation. I pin her hips and licked from the bottom to the top of her pussy. God, I love the way she tastes, the way she coats my tongue in her arousal. Fuck, do I love being in between her legs. “So good,” I tell her, “taste like heaven.” I work my tongue in her, fucking her while my thumb presses down on her clit. “Fuck baby, you’re even tight for my tongue.”
“Chris,” she mewled. She was close, so fucking close.
“Come for me little senator. That’s an order.” I shoved two fingers into her cunt and sucked on her clit at the same time. she shattered, crying out as her orgasm fluttered through her body. I made it last for as long as I could. I tease her relentlessly and get her right back on the edge. Then i pull away and she cries in frustration because I know her orgasm is fading. I climb up her body, tasting every inch of skin I can until I can wrap her legs around my waist. “Hang on, baby.”
She grips the straps around her wrists and then I force my way home. She screams as I bury myself in her to the hilt. But I’m not cruel. I wait until she is comfortable and then rock into her, leting her feel every inch, every ridge, every vein of my cock along her ways. Fuck, she feels so good. I’ve only fucked her bare a couple of times and the feeling of her heat, how wet, how needy she is, I’m going to fucking die a happy man.
“Harder Chris, fuck, please harder.” I grab her legs and push them over my shoulder so I can fuck her into the mattress. She feels like fucking heaven and tighter in this position. I can’t believe I get to do this with my wife. She’s moaning and crying out from all the stimulation. I don’t want to ever stop.
Your POV
Chris is fucking you to within an inch of your life. You are in heaven, lost in the heavenly glow of sex and you need him. “Chris, please,” you pleaded. You know what he wants because you want it too. He pulls out quick, making you cry before he flips you to your front and gets your ass in the air.
“This pussy is magically,” he says, looking it over before he fills you again. You have always loved this angle. You can feel everything and when he moves, you can feel his balls hitting your clit. Its perfect.
“C-chris, I can’t hold on,” you whine. “Husband please!”
“Oh shit,” he moans, “that’s fucking hot.” He thrusts faster. “Say it again. Say! It!”
You’re on the cusp of euphoria. “Chris, Husband please!” He ruts into you, reaching down to circle and stroke your clit and you break. You scream your release, gripping his cock, squeezing him until he released into you, coating you in his cum.
“Fuck!” He pumps a few more times until he stops, lowering you gently to the bed, not ready to separate. You lay there on your sides, legs tangles to keep you connected, catching your breaths when you start to giggle. “And what is so funny, my wife?”
You take a breath to speak. “You have a kink, baby. You like it when I called you husband.” You turn to look back at him.
He smiles before leaning over and kissing you again. “I also like calling you Wife and you like it too. You clenched involuntarily and Chris hisses. He caressed your thigh. “Told you.”
After Chris cleans you up and you both crawl into bed, you find myself laying on top of his chest. “I wish we could stay this way forever.” You place a kiss on his chest.
“I wish we could too, little Senator, but then how will you rule the world?”
Its a valid question. One you are excited to figure out.
You’ve been married for two months and now you are at the National Convention. Getting married during an election season was crazy but your team and Chris’s said it would give you the best boost. You were set to become the youngest and second woman nominated for the office of President.
As you stood in the wings of TD Gardens in Boston, Chris watched as you paced back and forth, looking over your note cards for your acceptance speech. “Sweetheart, don’t be nervous.”
“That’s easy for you, Chris, you’re an actor. You perform for millions.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I act in front of a camera for twenty people and then they watch after its edited. YN,” he stopped you and wrapped you in his arms. “You are a brilliant speaker. The people have nominated you, they believe in you. I believe in you.” He tilted your head up so you would look at him. “Go out there and be a rock star, Little Senator.”
The convention went off without a hitch and it was the final three months of the campaign. It was grueling, city after city, town hall after town hall. Chris could only be on the road with you for a few days at a time as ASP launched into the primer source for facts in the election. He had to host panels and discussions. Video chats in between calls and meet and greets was not how you imagined your first few months of marriage but it could all be worth it.
Chris POV
I was late for our video date. “Fuck.” I was jogging to my office in the ASP offices so I could call YN, when I was stopped by Megan. “What’s up?”
“Chris, there is an article floating around that claims the Senator had an affair right before the wedding.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“The Enquirer has photos of her entering a hotel room that did not belong to the campaign. The room was rented out by someone named M. Capuano.”
We made it to my office. I closed the door. “What does my wife’s team said?”
Megan grimaced. “That’s the thing. They said they aren’t worried about it. Rachel said that she spoke to the Senator and if questioned, they are going with no comment.”
I smiled. “That’s my girl. We’re saying the same thing, Megan. Thanks.” I turned to pick up my phone.
Megan scoffed. “There is no way we can go with no comment, Chris. They will tear her apart. You have to talk to her about. She’s just not bringing herself down but you as well.”
“I’ll talk to her. Give me five minutes.” Megan rolled her eyes and left my office as I called my wife. “Hello, my little Senator.”
“Hi handsome!” She was flushed from running for her phone. She was heartbreakingly beuatfiul, her cream colored blouse clung to her curves that I love and gave just the hint of clevage. “How were your discussions?”
“Really good, looks like the live numbers will be out highest yet.” I smirk. “Execpt for my last meeting.”
She frowned. “With who?”
“Megan. She wanted to bring attention to the fact that there is an article going aroung saying my wife is having an affair.”
YN gasped. “Chris, you know I would never...”
“I was nervous for just a second and then she told me the name the room was reserved under and it took everything in me not to laugh.”
She looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Sweetheart, remember when you had a swing in Virginia and I was able to see you and we kept it on the low.”
“Yes,” she dragged out.
“Well I couldn’t reserve the room under either of our names so my uncle helped me and reserve the room for me. M. Capuano. Uncle Mike.”
I watched as the realization clicked. “Oh my gosh, they think I am having an affair with M. Capuano but really I’m having an affair with my husband.”
I smirk as she laughs. “I don’t know what you are laughing at Senator. You’re having an affair.”
“I sure am. The man really is hard to resist. Dark gripable hair, a beard that feels so good on my skin. Bluest eyes I ever seen. He’s built and has those arms that can hold you to him all night long.”
“Fuck sweetheart, you can’t say stuff like when when I don’t have time right now.” I looked at my calendar on my computer. “I can be with you tomorrow morning and stay through the weekend.”
“I’m looking forward to it Mr. Affair.”
“I’m going to rock your world Mrs. Affair. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
YN POV
You’re nervous.
This day is always nerve-racking.
This isn’t your first one either.
And hopefully it isn’t your last.
Its election day.
While you hadn’t given up your senate seat yet, it was something you were willing to do if the right opportunity presented itself. Say, being the President of the United States.
But first, you needed to be elected there. You were back in California, awaiting for the results. Votes were being tally, the electoral college was making its decision and all you could do was wait.
Which is not the easiest thing to do.
Chris had been on the phone with his ASP team, checking results in major battleground states, counts on issues that were concerning to younger Americans. Every time he looked up to you, he would you a smile and mouth “i love you” to try and calm your nerves. Three years of this and he knew how to calm your nerves.
The campaign had been hard, a woman running against an older, backward thinking man. The scandal of the car photos came back into play but your opponents own philandering with a woman not his wife, nullified that right away. You had no secrets, other than your relationship with Chris. You were caareful to only show what you wanted to the public to know. Chris was or rather still is a famous movie star. He may have slowed down his films but he was never not working. ASP was his pride and joy, besides you, and it relected on how much the platform grew.
It was nearing 8pm in California and the states were starting to be called. Every political forecaster predicted this race to be the tightest its ever seen. No one expected you to receive the nomination. No one expected to make it this far. No one believe. Except Chris.
He believed in you.
You can feel him right behind you before he wraps his arms around you. “Did you ever imagine being here Senator?”
You shake your head. “I imagined a lot of things. I had dreams. But, to do this with you, now,” you look up at him, “I never imagined it like this.”
For hours, you and. your family stood around, watching results. Chris mentioned that you should rest but you were too keyed up to lie down or even sit down. Hour after hour passed and the race was down to the final couple of states. Then the news anchor interrupted the talking heads on the news.
“We are now prepared to make the call in Oregon. This evening has been historic in so many ways. But now we are ready to declare Oregon for...”
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked to your destiny. You assumed it would be hard, to run for president. To deal with the fall out. Your opponent had been cordial in his speech. He talked about uniting the country and not letting politics create a divide. He was right, the country had to come together now and move forward.
Chris POV
Watching my girl waiting to be taken to her seat for the ceremony, it was heart wrenching. She was so stoic and unnaturally quiet. She had on a beautiful red dress with white accents and her coat was the same blue as the american flag. She had been so brave through all of this. She kept her head up and was gracious. The embodiment of class. She just had one more thing to do before we could move forward.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?”
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“Don’t be. I’m right here.” I took her hand and we were walked to our seats. The ceremony was beautiful in the cold January air. We listened to the poet laureate and the national anthem done by Taylor Swift. But then it was our cue, to do the part of the ceremony as instructed by the head of the inguration committee. I smiled as I held out the bible, open to her favorite passage.
I watched as my girl placed her hand on the bible and then raised her right hand.
I, YN YMN Evans, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God.”
The roar of the crowd sounded as she finished her oath. I leaned over to kiss my wife, my president. “Congratulation, madam President.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the new President of the United States and new First Gentleman, YN and Chris Evans!”
Walking out to the inagural ball is surreal. This was our life now for the next four years. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. As Harry Styles sang Adore You for us again, I held my wife in my arms. “Did you count on this, madam President.”
She frowned for a second. “I don’t know if i like you callng me that. But no,” she smiled. “I was only counting on you.”
“You can always count on me, love. Count on it forever.”
“Just as long as I’m still your forever.” She sighed as she leaned against me. “Still not sure about the madam president thing.”
“How about in public, you are madam President, but in private,” I spin her around and draw her close again, “you’ll always be my little senator.”
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Beneath a Waning Moon║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ
| BENEATH A WANING MOON | part of the A Savage Place collection
║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║
| PAIRING(s): sub!Joel Miller x dom!fem!OC
| RATING: explicit material | 18+
| WORD COUNT: 7k
| CONTENT: typical canon violence, exploration of power dynamics, submissive and domination practices, dirty talk, rewards and punishments, Joel learns to be a good boy
| SYNOPSIS:
You’re patrol partners with Joel, and that’s where you first noticed just how tightly wound the man is. His unrelenting need to be in control of any given situation or interaction is more irritating than anything. That is, until it actually becomes dangerous during one fateful patrol shift together.
Jesus Christ you think to yourself. This man is so tightly wound it’s a wonder he hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet.
“Don’t exactly have a world-class dentistry outfit in Jackson, Joel,” you mutter.
Your ever snippy and disagreeable patrol partner whips his head around to meet you with narrowed eyes. Your comment is the first thing to break the silence in almost an hour. It would’ve been a peaceful quiet, too, if it weren’t for Joel’s nonstop teeth grinding. His jaw muscles were working his teeth so feverishly he would only have smooth, rounded nubs left in their place soon enough.
“The fuck you on about now?” he gripes.
Charming, as always.
“Might wanna cool it on gnawing your fucking teeth. You’re grinding your jaw so fucking loud, Miller. I know you have to have a headache. When you crack one of those puppies there isn’t gonna be much to do for you except take you out back and put you outta your misery,” you drawl.
You turn your attention back out the window of the small patrol station that once upon a time was a hunting blind box for Jackson resort-goers. The recreational function of it had long passed. No deer or duck hunting here. Just hunting clickers or tracking raiders, or any of the other millions of threats that presented themselves to the safety of Jackson.
Maybe that’s what had Joel worked up all the time. It was hard to say. He was never an easygoing person, but you’d think getting a good night’s rest, on a comfortable mattress, inside a heated house, inside a walled off city would be enough to get him to relax a little. No such luck. He only seemed to get worse the longer you knew him.
It was your fourth month of being his patrol partner. You had almost laughed when Tommy approached you to take up the task after all of Joel’s other assigned partners had asked to be grouped with somebody else.
Turns out Joel had quite the nasty streak that didn’t take much to get directed at whatever poor bastard had said the wrong thing or breathed the wrong way or moved too abruptly. You weren’t afraid of some giant manbaby, and Tommy seemed at his wit’s end. So, you agreed to the pairing.
“Yeah, I gotta fuckin’ headache alright. Sittin’ right next to it,” Joel snaps in a huff.
You smirk at the unsurprising retort. Should’ve seen it coming.
“Set myself up for that one,” you chuckle lowly.
Joel only offers a derisive exhale through his nose at you and settles back into his cranky silence.
You were nearing the end of your shift, and boredom had set in. You decide to pass the rest of the time by getting on Joel’s nerves. You were good at it, too. His acrid demeanor didn’t faze you one bit, and that only seemed to annoy him more. His usual tricks that sent just about everybody else running for the hills wasn’t going to cut it with you. He’d have to try a lot harder if he wanted to ruffle your feathers.
Plus, there was something about him that made you want to break him down and see what was inside. He had a hell of a guard up, you’d give him that much.
“You think Ellie likes you enough to spoonfeed you applesauce once you grind your teeth to marbles and can’t handle solids?” you ask with an airy, casual tone.
“Shut–the fuck–up,” Joel grunts.
“Hm, I’ll take that as a no. I might be up for it, but only if you ask real nice,” you needle.
“Can’t believe you’re this much of a pain in the ass, but I’m the one who scares everybody off,” he huffs with an annoyed shake of his head.
You let out a genuine laugh at that, and Joel rolls his eyes.
“Imagine if you hadn’t been such a nasty grouch to any and everybody that was assigned to you before me. You could be up here with Phillip right now instead,” you chortle.
“Sounds fuckin’ worse, somehow. I hated bein’ assigned with him. God, he’s such a little fuckin’ bitch,” he snorts.
“He is. He really is,” you laugh in amused agreement.
You settle back into a comfortable silence now that Joel is aware of his teeth grinding and has stopped. For now. He’d be right back to it and whatever other shitty coping mechanisms he had to work out his stress. Although it sometimes made for an irritating shift, Joel’s high strung disposition presented a greater risk. It was inevitable that it would get in the way of his ability to keep a level head during patrol, maybe even making a grave mistake. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Turns out, it was the former. As in, right after you both called it a day and climbed down from the lookout.
You and Joel rounded the corner to the small alcove where your horses were tethered. You stopped Joel in his tracks when you noticed muddy footprints leading to and from the spot. They weren’t yours or Joel’s, and they were fresh. You were both immediately on guard, weapons raised. You and Joel wordlessly went back to back as you started to scan the area for the owner of the footprints.
Before you could determine their location, a lone raider jumped out and kicked Joel’s knees out from under him. It was a flurry of scrambling and shouting after that. The raider had correctly determined the biggest threat as Joel, but he’d incorrectly calculated just how much of a threat you were. You unsheathed your knife with stealth accuracy, but the raider had a foot over you and at least 70 pounds. You only got a single jab into his side before he knocked the weapon out of your hand.
“JOEL!” you yell, wildly searching for where the hell your backup was.
Your single stab on the raider had at least been straight into his gut where a number of vital organs were. He swung on you, but his stilted movements allowed you to dodge it quickly. You yank a serrated blade from your bootstrap and drive it into his calf. He shrieked in anger and pain, and you locked his neck into your elbow when he dipped down from the impact of his injury. You apply as much pressure as you can around his neck to cut off bloodflow and hopefully force him to lose consciousness. He struggled against your headlock, and one forceful buck from him made your balance teeter.
A loud whistling sound whizzed by your ear, startling you enough to lose your grip entirely and fly backwards to the ground. When you look up again, Joel is driving your serrated blade into the raider’s skull repeatedly. You scramble up from the ground and pull for Joel to get on his horse. You needed to get the hell out of there. Raiders weren’t lone creatures, and you had no doubt there were others nearby.
Joel wore a shocked expression when he turned to see you above him. He stared back at you like he’d seen a ghost. Like you being in front of him and snapping at him to leave it and go didn’t make sense somehow. The ride back to Jackson was a blur, and you didn’t have time to process what the look meant until after you and Joel gave Tommy the full rundown of events.
With a new group of patrollers gearing up and heading out to assess the area you and Joel had just left, Tommy sent you both on your way to head home and get rest.
Joel was acting almost shy, and that more than anything was what made it click. You dragged Joel into the stables away from prying eyes and ears. His remorseful expression confirmed what you already knew.
“You almost fucking killed me. You fucking idiot. You really almost KILLED ME,” you snap, shoving at Joel angrily.
“I had him in range, but then you moved. It was stupid, I know. I fuckin’ know it was stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’. I’m … fuck, I’m sorry, alright?” he bit out.
“Oh, you’re sorry? You’re sorry for almost shooting me in the fucking head? Sorry because you can’t aim for shit and missed the goddamn raider that was trying to murder me?” you bark. “You almost cost me my life, Joel!”
He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed. “I-I .. fuck, I know. FUCK.”
“You being trigger-happy almost cost me my life.” The statement had started out acidic but ended in a strangled whisper as the reality of how close you had come to dying sunk in. Joel’s high-strung, jumpy inclinations had almost been the end of you.
“Hey, I-I’m sorry…” his voice trailed. It was the softest you had ever heard him. When you looked up at him, his eyes were misted over. It was enough to make your decision of what needed to happen next an easy one.
“You’re coming with me. Now. To my house. No fucking questions,” you growl.
You ignore the confused look he gives you and march off. You hear his footsteps behind you because of course he’s not going to argue when he almost killed you today. Whatever you had in mind was clearly warranted after his almost fatal error.
You stomped all the way to your house, angry and sad at what almost happened. You felt that familiar creep in your chest, the one where you needed to be in control for a little while. Be in control of a situation after feeling so helpless. And Joel? Joel needed to decompress. Immediately. Before his clouded mind and judgment actually did cause something horrific to happen.
You lock your front door to your single story home once you both make it inside, and you waste no time in laying the groundwork.
“Here’s how this is gonna go, Joel. You’re gonna do what I say, when I say it. Your pent up bullshit almost got me killed, and you need to fucking let go of it,” you instruct in a dangerously low tone.
Joel raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Alright. I, uh, I know you’re right. I’m in my fuckin’ head. I know I am. I didn’t think it’d end up … I didn’t think it’d get that far.”
He cast his eyes downward and rubbed the back of his neck. He was genuinely remorseful, but that wasn’t going to cover his transgressions.
“Get naked and get on the bed,” you order. You start removing your shoes and jacket but pause when Joel hasn't moved.
“M’sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” he gasps with an incredulous laugh.
“You fucking heard me, and unless you want to make it worse for yourself I suggest you do as your told,” you shoot back coldly.
Joel looked bewildered and concerned. “You havin’ a fuckin’ mental break or somethin’?”
“You just added five onto your total,” you reply coolly, not bothering to look his way as you undo your shoelaces.
“Huh? Five? Five what?” he asks with a shake of his head. “Did you hit your fuckin’ head on the ground or somethin’?”
When you turn to him with a stern glare, he decides it’s probably not worth it to ask again and starts off towards your bedroom just visible through the living room. You are down to your bra and panties when you make your way to your bedroom. Joel is laying on your sheets completely stripped down, looking uncertain but curious.
“This is the fuckin’ weirdest way somebody’s asked to fuck me,” he admits with a hesitant chuckle.
You chuckle back, but it lacks the warmth and levity of his. “Oh, Joel. That’s not what’s going on here. I need you to pick a word, by the way.”
“It’s not? What? Why the fuck am I naked then? And what’d’ya mean ‘pick a word’?” He was starting to sound irritated, as if he had any right after what he did today.
When you make quick work of crawling across the bed and hovering over him in a straddle position, he loses the next remark on the tip of his tongue.
“Word. Now,” you command.
“I don’t fuckin’ know. Any word? Uh - christ, I dunno,” he falters. He’s rounding back to bewilderment.
“How about ‘trigger-happy’?” you suggest pointedly. Joel swallows, back to being remorseful, and nods.
“So if you need to stop, that’s what you’re going to say. Understand?”
“If I need to stop? Stop what?” he asks, somehow careening right back into confusion.
“Anything that you don’t want to happen. You’ll say ‘trigger-happy’, and whatever is happening will stop,” you explain calmly.
“Uh, alright?”
“I need to hear you say it, Joel. I need to know you understand,” you prod.
You get why Joel is confused as to what it is that he’d have to ask you to stop. He’s bigger than you. He’s stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. There’s not really a scenario where he’d be at a disadvantage. All things considered, it makes a lot more sense that you’d be the one who should be picking a safe word to use if you wanted him to stop something.
“Alright. I understand. Say ‘trigger-happy’ and whatever’s goin’ on will stop,” he repeats dutifully.
“Good boy,” you say with a small smile. Joel’s eyebrows pinch together, but you can see your words had the intended effect when you feel his cock twitch under your thigh.
“Now, your smart mouth earned you an additional five, isn’t that right?” you ask.
“Yeah, whatever the fuck that’s supp-”
“You will answer my question with respect, and you do not speak unless I tell you to. Now say ‘yes, ma’am’ and behave,” you growl.
“This is … jesus, alright. Okay. Yes, ma’am, it was five more,” he drones.
His Southern twang added a sweet little twist to the words, and the sound of it shot straight into your panties.
You trail your hands down his chest and you lift yourself away from him. He hums in response to your touch, and you finally take a moment to appreciate his naked form. A hot thrill spreads in between your thighs when your gaze settles on his half-hard cock. It’s already a delicious length, and the circumference makes the ache in your pussy even worse.
“Like what you see, huh?” Joel chuckles when he catches you staring.
Without missing a beat, you snap your eyes up to his through your brows and inform him he’s added another three to his total for mouthing off. He smirks but doesn’t say anything else.
“On your belly,” you command.
Joel obliges with a nonchalant roll, clearly enjoying what he thinks is nothing more than a strange response to a near-death experience on your part. He’s cooperative with your apparent power trip and need for release.
His bare ass is nicely rounded with decent musculature, but you can see it’s soft enough that your teeth would sink right into the flesh and leave beautiful little marks. However, you have to hold off on that for now as there are more pressing issues at hand.
“You are going to count all EIGHTEEN out loud. If you don’t, they won’t go towards your total. Understand?”
Joel’s head is resting lazily to the side atop his folded arms. “Yes, ma’am. Count ‘em out. Got it,” he hums, almost sounding bored at whatever this strange form of foreplay is that you’re clearly into.
Your smile grows devious as you draw your arm back and strike the tender flesh of his backside. Joel jumps and lets out a noise of disbelief and annoyance.
“What the fuck?!” he snaps.
When you land another slap onto the already reddening patch, he jerks again.
“Shame none of these count towards your total. Disobedience gets you nowhere, baby boy.”
“Agh, two! TWO! What the fuck is this sh-”
“No. Not two. You didn’t count them. You have to listen to what I tell you to do, and then do it. So shut the fuck up and count. You’ve got a long way to go.” You cock your head to the side as if you’re daring him to act defiant.
Joel grumbles but repositions himself. You peek a tinge of pink across his chest, neck, and cheeks before he settles back down. The sight of it makes your thighs rub together without thought.
“Now, let’s try this again and see if you can be a good boy,” you say softly. A small choking noise catches in the back of his throat. Fuck. You were going to have to concentrate harder if he was going to start making sounds like that.
You land another swat across his backside and savor the way his skin prickles up in goosebumps.
“One.” His grunt was audible, but his enthusiasm and deference weren’t quite where you wanted them. Another seventeen swats should help get him there. You swat him a second and third time and watch how his thighs constrict and bunch together.
“Tell me how that feels,” you instruct.
Joel shifts and makes a feigned dissenting noise, but you need more than that for this dynamic to work like it should. You crawl back onto the bed and straddle one of his thighs. He makes a much less ambiguous noise when your damp panties meet his bare skin. You smooth a hand over the irritated splotches on his backside. His body relaxes under the palliative motion. A small sigh slips from his mouth.
“Joel, tell me. How does it make you feel when I’m giving you your punishment?” you ask.
He turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you. “Dunno.” His eyes flutter for a moment when you start squeezing his smarted flesh.
“Do you want me to stop?” The corner of your lip twitches up when his body tenses at the suggestion.
“No. Not when you’re gettin’ that fuckin’ wet from it,” he snorts.
You smile a little and crawl forward until you’re on all fours above his back. You sink down until your chest is flush with his back.
“You like doing a good job for me?” you purl.
Joel rolls his eyes and grins away from you.
“Mmmm, I like that. I like how you wanna do a good job for me. You do, don’t you?” you prod.
“Hmmpphhh, s’pose I do,” he agrees quietly.
“And that’s what makes you my special boy, Joel,” you coo. His eyes flicker to you with an expression like he’d been found out. Like he wasn’t sure how you were able to have this sort of effect on him all the while him not even being aware of this side to himself. This need. This empty space that you knew about before he did. This empty space that you knew just how to find and fill. This empty space he was now dying for you to take from him and pour yourself into it so he could be whole again.
You had many a time suspected it was in him, somewhere buried deep, but to see it confirmed by the source himself made you all the more resolute to tap into it and show him what else was there.
You smile warmly at him, earnest in the affection it holds. You nuzzle your noses together in a few passes and let him press a small kiss against your lips before sitting up again.
“This is how it works, Joel. You do a good job for me, and you get rewarded.” You emphasize the concept by gently scratching his scalp. He groans contentedly. “But if you fuck up, that’s when I have to punish you,” you add, grabbing a fistful of his hair where you’d just been tenderly minding him.
Joel winced at the pull, but you didn’t miss the pleasured hitch in his breath.
“So are you ready to get back to your punishment, Joel? So that you can try to do a good enough job that I can reward you?” You roll your hips against the small of his back and are amused when he involuntarily raises his hips to meet your movement.
“Yes. M’ready,” he grunts.
“Good. Because I like it when you’re a good enough boy that I can reward you,” you muse. The muscles in his broad back swell and contract with a deep pull of air. He was finally starting to give in a little to the blissful feeling of letting go.
You slink back down to your previous stance, rubbing one more soothing circle against his ass with your open hand.
“Remember to count, baby.”
With that, you resume doling out the punishment Joel had earned himself. Again and again you leave your mark against his tender skin. Your own hand was beginning to tingle from the impact, but the stinging on your palm only made your cunt clench tighter around nothing.
“NGghhh. Goddammit. Seven. FUCK.”
You want to lick the sheen of sweat that was starting to glisten across his back, but you contain yourself. You scoot up to straddle him and lean close to his ear.
“You’re doing so well, baby. Being such a good boy for me. Think I wanna show you what being a good boy gets you, before we work our way to eighteen. What’dya think? Want me to show you?” you murmur into his ear.
He pauses for a moment, groaning slightly in thought and arousal, before nodding.
“I know it’s your first time, so I’m gonna be nice and remind you to use your words.”
Joel swallows deeply. “Yes, ma’am. Wan’you to show me. Please.”
“Ooohh, yes, I like it when you use your manners,” you breathe into his ear.
You trail a hand down to his thigh and nudge him to bend and extend his leg out to the side. The angle lifts his hips slightly off the bed and sideways, and when you sit up behind him you can see his weeping cock, stiff and red at the tip.
“Makin’ a mess, baby,” you tease. You spit into your hand and wrap your fingers gently around his base. He groans at the contact, hips jerking involuntarily.
“Now now, don’t get jumpy. Too much of that today already,” you warn.
Joel stills at your words but looks down where your hand wraps around his length. You lean your chest against his side and back as you talk into his ear again.
“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Knew you could listen.” You slowly drag your fist along his length in steady passes, placing little appreciative kisses on the back of his neck.
The whimper of a sigh he lets out is almost heart-wrenching in its surrender. You realize just how badly he needed this. Not just the release, but handing himself over to someone else and letting them make the decisions. Letting go. Letting himself fall into you, trusting you with it. You swallow back a lump threatening to form in your throat at the thought of it.
“Good boy. Such a good boy for me,” you praise, working him faster.
When he chokes out a needy moan, it makes you want to forget about the rest of his 18 and ride him right then and there. “You sound so good for me. Singing out for me. You like how you get rewarded, huh? For being good for me? I’ll take care of you, baby. You’re safe with me. You just have to let go and give yourself to me, baby. I’ve got you.”
Joel lets out a little strangled whimper, and you have to work to collect yourself.
“Tell me how pretty your cock looks with my hand on it.”
“Ahff-fuck. It’s-god-yes, i-it’s pretty,” he rasps.
“Words,” you scold with a gentle slap to his balls. He jerks backwards with a hiss before rolling his hips forward again, his chest rumbling with a groan.
“My fuckin’ cock looks pretty with your hands on it,” he grits.
“Now was that so hard to do?” you tut. “All you have to do is listen and obey.”
You slowly massage his balls for a moment before getting things back on track.
“Think that’s enough for now,” you whisper, letting him drop from your hold. Joel’s annoyed grunt makes you smile and is amusing enough that you won’t punish him for it. Not this time, at least. “On your back, all the way.”
Joel rolls onto his back and shows a small twinge of discomfort in his expression when his tender backside meets the sheets.
“Sore already, baby? We haven’t even made it halfway to eighteen,” you taunt.
His tongue darts across his lower lip hungrily. He’s closer to where you want him now. You eye the dribbles of precome trickling from his tip. His cock is standing at attention, desperate for any sort of contact.
“Open your mouth.”
When Joel doesn’t follow your command, your temple twitches in irritation.
“Is this gonna be a fuckin’ problem, Joel?” you snap.
You grab roughly at his length, sinking your nails into the sensitive flesh just enough to leave crescent marks.
Joel emits a whinging groan and levels an annoyed glare at you. His breaths are coming in heaves. You give him a moment - it was his first time, after all - and eventually his stony scowl wanes into a yielding frown.
He barely opens his mouth. You tsk tsk with a derisive laugh at his lackluster effort.
“Tongue OUT.” You cock your head sideways for emphasis.
His eyes narrow slightly, but he juts his tongue out, flat and wide. Heat pools in your lower belly at the thought of all the ways it could be put to use.
You had to touch it. See how it felt. Get a better idea of how it would feel running up and down your folds and tonguing your asshole. You snake your pointer finger into his mouth and rub it back and forth against his tongue. You scissor your index and middle fingers underneath it, enjoying the way his mouth looks wide open for you to use however you see fit.
“Suck.”
Joel closes his lips around your two digits and keeps his eyes locked on yours. You pull away from his mouth and admire the covering of slobber he’s worked up. You run the wet digits along the underside of his cock. It jumps at your merciful touch. Joel fists the sheets on either side of him.
“There’s just something about the way you get so pathetic for me that makes me so fucking wet,” you moan.
Joel’s throat bobs with a swallow. It’s as if he thinks making any move too quickly will snip the wrong wire and detonate all his restraint.
“I didn’t tell you that you could close that pretty mouth,” you warn. It falls back open, tongue out and waiting for you to use.
“Good boy,” you praise with a smile.
You lean forward with a soft touch grazing his chest. His eyes flutter at the sensation. You stroke him once without warning, just to see his body snap up to attention. His mouth is opened wide, and you curl your fingers into a tight grasp around his chin before spitting in his mouth.
“Swallow.”
Joel’s cock twitched. He obliged to your request.
“Mmmmhhhmmmmm, you like that, huh, baby? Like when I treat you that way?”
Joel didn’t reply, but his eyes wandered down your body to where you straddled his. You give a slow, teasing roll of your hips, and Joel’s buck up into you. His eyes snap shut tight, and a strained noise gathers in his throat.
“Answer me, Joel. Now.” You land a harsh swat to his inner thigh. He flinches and draws a rough, tight gulp of air between his teeth.
“YES. I like it. Like this. ‘N I like yo-” he cuts himself off.
You catch yourself smiling with tenderness at the slip. You grind firmly into him, and his back arches off the bed.
“Finish that thought, honey. Wanna hear what you were gonna say,” you coax.
“You fuckin’ know what I was gonna say,” he grumbles.
He won’t look at you, and that bothers you. You need him to feel safe enough and comfortable enough to look you in the eye, especially if he’s actually sharing something intimate. But, maybe that would be too much, too fast for Joel. You’ll just have to find a way to work it out of him next time. A boundary was a boundary, after all.
“Tell you what,” you playfully muse. “If you can’t say it, I’ll let you show it instead. Sound good?”
Joel’s eyes snap back to yours immediately with this offer. His expression quickly shifted from guarded to hungry. He nods with unabashed enthusiasm. You smile down at the perfect little pliant mess he’s become for you.
“I think there’s something that needs attention before we get back to counting all those yummy little slaps on your ass,” you purr. “Hands above your head.”
Joel obliges and rests his arms above his head.
“I know that pretty little mouth of yours can do a whole lot of talking and smarting off, but I’m interested to see if it can do anything else.” You unclasp your bra and throw it to the floor. You follow the bob of Joel’s adams apple when he gulps at the sight of your bare breasts.
“Something you wanna say?” you ask sweetly.
“Bring those here, sweetheart. Fuck, you look so good,” he mutters almost to himself. His eyes are locked onto your chest.
“You’re not the one giving orders,” you remind him pointedly.
“I. Uh. I’m not. You’re right, baby, but- fuck you look so good. Can I? Can I please?”
His big brown eyes are watery and earnest, and you have to get your pussy in check yet again.
“Not very convincing. What’s in it for me?” you challenge. You toy with your nipple and watch it harden
under your ministrations. The choked noise from Joel tells you he’s very intent on saying whatever configuration of words will bring your body closer to him.
“I-I wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. After today. Let me, please? Just for a minute. Won’t touch ‘em with my hands. I’ll be good. I’ll keep my hands up like you said,” he promises.
You have to pretend with painstaking effort that you’re indifferent to his pleas. You can feel yourself completely soaking through your panties at this point. You straddle him again, rocking your hips against his cock for good measure, before leaning your torso over his mouth.
“Show me how sorry you are.”
When Joel feverishly takes your entire nipple into his hot, wet mouth, you can’t help the pitched moan that comes out of you. Joel is so worked up that he doesn’t even get cocky like before at your responsiveness to him and instead releases one side and heads straight for the other. He skillfully rolls his tongue around and grazes his teeth in all the right spots.
“Hnngggggg. Fuck, oh fuck. Such a good fucking boy for me. Yes, baby. Use your mouth. Show me how bad you were today. Make it up to me,” you pant.
Joel is a noisy, ardent mess underneath you, devouring and nipping and kissing and sucking at whatever he can, like a man starved of touch for too long. And he probably was. Truth be told, you had gone far too long without the touch of someone else. You were both going to end up a mess if you didn’t slow this down.
You pull back abruptly and slam your mouth onto his in a rough kiss. You don’t stop or reprimand Joel when he removes his hands from above his head and wraps them around you, pulling you closer. It’s a mess of tongues and teeth and saliva as you both desperately taste one another. Your aching pussy is screaming to be touched, and you clamber to hoist yourself over his face. Joel doesn’t need to be told what comes next. He yanks the fabric over your lips aside and delves his tongue into your throbbing wet entrance.
You cry out and grab at his sweaty curls as you start to ride his face. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Joel. You’re gonna fuck me with your tongue until I come,” you snarl as you set a furious pace rocking your hips against his face.
His large, angled nose grinds delightfully against your clit with each pass, and you feel your orgasm building rapidly. His greedy moans and grunts vibrate against your pussy as you make a drenching mess of his face.
“That’s it–right there, right there,” you rasp. “Hhhmmggg you’re such a fuckin’ pleasure to use, baby.”
By the sound of the noise Joel makes, you think he really must’ve liked what you just said. Fortunately for you, he’s eager to show you through his actions as well. When he pulls you down to anchor you into his mouth and sucks hard on your clit, your orgasm barrels through your gut and legs. You’re a shaking, moaning mess, crying out Joel’s name and grabbing at the headboard in vain for support. He’s pushing and pulling your hips to help you keep the tempo of your grind as you fuck his face.
“GAHDD-Gaah-JOEL!” you shout. “GOOD BOY. FUCK.”
His tongue laves and slurps every drip you give him as he greedily swallows your climax. The rush of pleasure goes straight to your head, and you zero in on your control over Joel with renewed zeal.
“THAT’S MY G-GOOD BOY, BABY. Yes, right there, baby,” you shakily exhale.
You indulge in a few more slowing passes before pushing off his face. You groan at the sloppy mess you’ve left it. Fuck, he looked so good with your wet slick smeared across it. His entire face glistens with a mixture of sweat and your come. You chuckle darkly when you notice he’s breathing primarily through his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” you taunt as you try to hide how out of breath you are from your climax. You swipe across his cheek and pinch down along his nose to remove the accumulation of your spend blocking his nostrils. “Can’t fucking breathe, huh? Got my come up your nose, baby? You’re so nasty. My pussy made a mess of that face, huh? So messy for me, baby boy.”
“More,” he growls, licking at the glistening arousal you’ve left dripping on his face.
You shake your head and smile. “Hm, that’s right. We do have more left, don’t we? On your belly.”
Joel slams his head against the pillow in frustration. That clearly isn’t what he meant when he begged for more. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and right before you can discipline him for not answering, he responds, “Yes, ma’am. We finished seven.” He rolls with a sigh onto his stomach and settles into position again, but not before you catch a glimpse of his aching cock.
You land five smacks in quick succession and nearly salivate at the recoil of his plump flesh against your strikes. You smooth your hand across the tender skin beneath. Joel grunts and counts out “eight.” His resignation to only count it as one makes your core tingle.
“You’ve done so good, I’ll let you count them individually,” you graciously offer.
“Yes, ma’am. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twel-”
Joel actually counting out each single slap had your folds slipping against each other with every movement, and you can’t resist landing a firm smack on the part of his ass you hadn’t smarted yet.
“NNGGGHHhhhh. THIRTEEN,” he barks into the pillow.
“That’s it. Doin’ so good. I know you can take more. I know you can take all of them for me, isn’t that right?”
His sharp exhales punctuate the little bubble you’ve created for the two of you. “Yes. Can take ‘em all for you, sweetheart,” he affirms.
“Your body was made for me to break down,” you assert. His breathing picks up with excitement and anticipation. “And, once I break you, Joel, I’m gonna put you back together how I want,” you purr in a muted lilt right next to his ear.
His broken whimper floats through the room like the white tufts of a dandelion in a calm breeze. “I-I want that, too,” he admits.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, completely losing all sense of focus when he’s so eager to please you and follow your rules.
“Doing so good, baby. Keep counting,” you soothe as you dole out the rest of his allotted swats.
He’s panting and sweating by the time you make it to eighteen, and you don’t have much more restraint left.
“Hands and knees,” you grit out. You controlled yourself from shoving your fingers inside your pussy at the sight of his red, welting flesh. He slowly pushes himself off the bed and rests on his palms and knees as you instructed.
You brush soft, wet kisses across the tender flesh of his ass, sucking and licking gently at the harsher marks. Your eyes roll back at the soft sigh he lets out. You let your wet tongue pad across his skin and dip against his hole. He jerks at the unexpected sensation, and you quickly swipe the slick between your folds and use it to glide your hand quickly up and down his cock. The sputtering gasp and moan he lets out almost breaks your resolve to not fuck him senseless.
You dart your tongue in and out of him as you feverishly work his aching cock, turning your wrist at the tip where you apply more pressure on each pass.
He’s trying to fuck himself into your fist with small movements, as though he’s trying not to get caught for doing so. That sort of behavior would land him in trouble in the future, but for today you are benevolent. He’s getting close, you can feel his body starting to shake and tremble more, and you want to see his face when he comes undone.
“On your back now,” you clip out. You shove him onto his back as he starts to turn around and obey your command. He thuds gently against the headboard and eagerly spreads his legs. You take him into your mouth with one motion, cradling and massaging his balls while your thumb works firm circles against his asshole.
He’s a whining, whimpering mess. You release him from your mouth only long enough to say, “You’ve been a good boy for me, Joel. You’re gonna come for me now. Come for me, baby. Let me have it.”
His scrunched brow and frown of overwhelming pleasure is something you wish you could remember in perfect detail for the rest of your life. He’s so beautiful like this, completely obliging to your every whim, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, a total surrender of control to you.
You lock eyes and take him into your throat. A guttural moan shakes from his chest as he comes into your throat and mouth. You slowly work him up and down through his release. Little tears prickling at the edge of his eyes start to slither down his temples and cheeks. His devastating, euphoric release is all too much to hold anything back anymore.
You swallow some of his come as it shoots down your throat. The rest of it gets spit out in messy, frothy bubbles down his spent cock. You stroke his length a few times as he starts to soften, unable to resist your curiosity of what Joel looks like when you overstimulate him. His strained expression and high pitched moan are delicious.
“AGGHH. T-TOO MUCH. Fuck. Fuck. STOP. FUCK. TRIGGER. SOMETHING,” he rambles in a frenzy.
You released him halfway through his plea, picking up on his threshold being passed before he could verbalize it. He sighs and slumps against the headboard, shutting his eyes in a pained look of relief.
You scoot up and straddle him, wiping the mixture of all your fluids against the sheets, before drawing him into your arms. You gently comb your fingers through his hair and place a lazy trail of kisses along his forehead.
“You did so good, baby. How do you feel?” you ask softly.
He grabs you into a tight embrace, rolling you both sideways onto the bed. He nuzzles against your neck contentedly and mumbles, “Good. Feel good. Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Anything for you, baby. Anything,” you whisper into his sweaty scalp.
After a few moments of holding each other and lazy kisses, you get up and find some towels, cleaning Joel off and then yourself. You bring him a small snack and a glass of water, and he makes short work of them both. He lets out a big exhale as he sinks back down into the mattress.
You sit between his legs, facing away from him, and his hands automatically rest on your waist in a feeling of comfortable, safe companionship. Joel’s breathing is beginning to slow into that telltale hazy thrum of dozing off.
When you start pressing firm, circular movements against his knee, he seems to stir again.
“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” Joel mumbles in a half-sleep state.
“Massaging your knee where that asshole kicked you,” you grumble in irritation at the memory of raider fucking up Joel’s already fucked up knees.
You focus on smoothing across the muscle in even passes, pressing your thumb in small circular motions. Joel had trusted you with the gift of breaking him down, and you were going to show him the other side of that agreement where you built him back up again. Put the pieces back together so that it’s cohesive and strong and tended to. No fragments. No splintering. Just making him whole again.
“Mmmmm, feels s’good,” he slurs.
You methodically massage Joel’s entire body well past the point where he lay peacefully snoring, spread out across your bed in complete bliss.
Me, the entire time I was writing this:
plz lmk if there's anything in particular you'd like to see sub!Joel *~*~learn~*~*
catch ya later,
♥Puddles♥
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Happiest of Fridays my brethren! I’m not actually here, I’m on a road trip to visit my sister, mom and aunt in California, but I have fic for you, so fic you shall have:
That’s right, it’s To Avaricious Affection time, as this slow burn arranged marriage au gets rolling. AO3 is a chapter behind but you can now read Chapter Two there, and if you so choose, both Chapter Three and the new Chapter Four are available now on Patreon! And don’t worry, chapter three will be on AO3 once I’m home and in posting ability again.
Until I get back, pray both for Kara’s abdomen and Lena’s sleep schedule.
#fic friday#Friday fic post#Aspidities#asp writes#supercorp#supergirl#lena luthor#kara danvers#patreon#supercorp fic#patreon fic#ao3 fic#supercorp ABO fic#supergirl ABO fic#wlw ABO
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Started a new was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween AU for October!!
This one is a 1800s mutual pining fake marriage AU hehe
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“Are you alright?” Maka whispered before tightening her grip on his arm.
I dunno, am I? Soul thought as he looked to the side and noticed the way Maka’s eyebrows had been slightly furrowed in worry. However, his attention soon wandered towards how radiant she looked due to Marie’s handiwork in makeup and picking out a perfect dress to borrow for their wedding.
“Ye-yes, why wouldn’t I be?” Soul coughed out while watching Maka flash a smile at the crowd that’d gathered to watch them leave the courthouse.
“I don’t know, I just…thought you were acting a little off,” his wife replied, causing him to let out a long sigh due to how hard he’d been suppressing the urge to imagine all of this being real and not merely a favor between two friends.
“Oh well, I suppose I should try smiling a lil’ more. Wouldn’t wanna displease my wife,” he added before gently placing one of Maka’s hands within his own and feathering a kiss onto her knuckles.
The young man then looked up to see her gaping at him while he wondered if the soft blush across her cheekbones was a figment of his imagination.
“Hm, well I’m glad to hear it,” Maka whispered before grounding her feet to a halt and reaching up to peck him on the cheek, eliciting a set of gasps from the crowd.
The stopping point allowed Soul to get a perfect view of Blake, who seemed to flash him a wink before displaying the newsletter he’d been milking for the past week.
A Leaflet for Love
Soul Evans, one of our town’s most humble and prosperous farmers, had asked for a special section to be printed into Miss Maka Albarn’s copy of the Death Tribune this past week. It read as follows:
I am twenty two years old, have a rather peculiar set of teeth, believe in the wealth of Mister Deathman, and the merit of the crops which our town produces. I have taken up a State lot, cleared up eighteen acres last year, and seeded ten of it down.
My buckwheat looks first-rate, and the oats and potatoes are bully.
I have got nine sheep, a two-year-old bull, and two heifers, besides a house and barn.
I want to get married.
I want to buy bread-and-butter, hoop-skirts, and waterfalls for some person of the female persuasion during life. That's what's the matter with me.
But I don't know how to do it, as my world would shatter if none other than Miss Maka Albarn would give me the pleasure of being my wife.
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1 week ago
“I just…don’t understand what I’m supposed to do sometimes, Soul,” Maka exclaimed before taking a swig out of a large wine bottle and passing it over to him.
“C’mon, you’re Maka Albarn, the toughest woman ta’ ever live,” Soul mumbled back while shifting the arm he’d snaked around her back.
He then took a large swig from the bottle while Maka slumped further against the pine tree they were seated under. The summer had graced the town with a cool evening breeze, which allowed the pair to have a perfect atmosphere for their nightly chats.
“Women are women to the lot, especially when it comes to business. Am I just supposed to waltz up to any investor, curtsy, and say good morning my name is Miss Maka Albarn and I’m inquiring about opening the first ever department store in Death City by myself,” she huffed, earning her a chortle from Soul.
“Well that’s where you’re wrong. I’m gonna be there to help you through it silly,” he added before regarding her with a shark-toothed grin, only to watch as her eyes became glazed over in deep thought.
“Hmm, help me out. That’s it!” the young woman yelped, eliciting Soul to jump at her sudden outburst.
“Soul….” she murmured before placing the wine bottle onto the ground and clasping both of her hands onto his own.
“Will you marry me?” Maka added while giving him an ardent stare, only for it to go unnoticed as the young man tried to wrap his mind around what she’d just said.
“Wha-“ Soul attempted to stammer out before feeling Maka’s grip on his hands begin to tighten.
“You could be the investor for me! I mean, you already have all this land and-“ Maka added, although Soul’s mind was too busy replaying those four words she’d uttered a moment ago.
Heh, kinda funny how I think about that stuff all the time. Me marryin’ Maka, her starting a business, us harvesting these fields every year until we’re an old married couple. Too bad…I can never really give her that life Soul mentally lamented before Maka slowly released his hands with a sigh.
“I-I mean only if you want to. It-it’s a request so please don’t-“
“Let’s do it,” the young man voiced while feeling a gentle warmth begin to creep up his chest once Maka’s emerald eyes settled upon his large grin.
“…Really?” she whispered, probing Soul into pressing his forehead against hers.
“Yea, if it means that much to ya’, let’s get hitched,” he added before Maka tackled him to the ground and hastily planted a set of kisses across his face.
#I swear I’ll get back to ASP after this#that is if my seasonal depression doesn’t make this the last ever fic I write lol#but ye always wanted to fake marriage AU so bwahaha#soul eater#soul x maka#maka x soul#soul eater fic#ao3 fic#meme attempts to write
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bonus points if you remember a-separate-blawg
#idk why i wavy haired him. FUCK i think i read it in a fic where they described it as wavy and i just ran with it#wtvr#anyways i kinda miss shaggy + ponytail fin errmmm….#finny asp#asp#blart#a separate peace
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all i want is some youre at a party and some creep is harassing you and then 💥 (insert nct man here) just knocks him flat out
violence isn’t attractive to me irl, but that scenario is so hot to me in fiction
THIS ISNT A REQUEST OR ANYTHING BDHDBXH IM JUST SAYIN
OH MY GOSH BESTIE THE WAY I HAVE THAT IDEA IN MY WIPSAJSJJEJRJRJR
#i was supposed to release this fic earlier but i got stuck in writers block💀#BAJEJEJE HOPEFULLY I CAN GET THIS DOWN ASP THIS YEAR😭😭😭😭#dumpling answers🐳
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What was the brain child for The Fine Art of Being a Zeyde
I think it really started with the idea that while Midge is similar to both of her parents in varying ways, I feel like there had to be someone in her family (other than Noah, who pointed out in season 1 that Midge has always been funny, and funnier than Joel) who encouraged her to be herself.
She's...kind of odd. And that's not something Rose would have encouraged, and while Abe probably finds it charming, I don't know that he'd encourage it too much either, especially with Rose there, raising Midge to take cues from her.
Neither Rose nor Abe can cook. Zelda does those things for them. Who taught Midge to make that amazing brisket? Or those killer latkes she boasts about in the first episode? We know Shirley's cooking leaves much to be desired (cabbage, onions). We know Joel doesn't cook. We never see Moishe do anything in the kitchen. Zelda is an option, certainly, but she has a busy job, taking care of the Weissman household.
Who taught Midge to do that? Cooking is a skill. Sure, you can follow a recipe, and your food will probably come out pretty good, but consistency and quality take time to master. She would have had to have started learning before she went to college at some point, because girl went straight from college to married life, do not pass go, do not collect $200.
It wasn't Abe or Rose who taught her that when you're homesick, food is best shared with the people around you, even if you don't know them very well, like when she cooked for the Shy Baldwin tour. That's a value that's taught. Something learned.
Since ASP refuses to give us more Weissman family members, which, to be honest, is bullshit, I decided that it would make the most sense to be Abe's father. Someone who knew Midge from when she was an infant, but passed before the series started. We know Rose's family (The Lehmans) are out in Oklahoma. We're given to believe that they don't have the time- nor do they care enough - to visit Rose and her family. She's a woman, and of no consequence to the family fortune or business.
The first Chaim Weissman, who Noah and Astrid name their son for, makes the most sense. Noah doesn't seem like someone who would name his only child after someone he's never met, so I'm given to believe there's some affection there at least.
From there, Chaim wrote himself. His being a rabbi makes Abe's atheism ring as a sort of rebellion against his father's life, which all children go through. His reliance on facts and science is so solid because he grew up with someone so steeped in religion. When Abe grows into a man, and his mother, Chaim's wife, passes, Chaim decides to go back to Europe and study there. He comes back to the states mostly because he suddenly has two grandchildren he wants to know and be present for, but also because if you were paying attention to Germany in the mid-30's, and weren't in such deep denial (many, many Jews were. They had prospered in places like Germany for many yeas, and were utterly blindsided by their fates), you knew something dark was coming.
Midge's girlhood is spent in the shadow of World War II, and she watches things play out across the Atlantic, often seeing those events through Chaim's perspective, because we often rely on our adults to help us parse out difficult information when we're young.
When he's not eaten up by survivor's guilt, or feeling maudlin about the way the war plays out for the Jews of Europe, Chaim is a jovial, thoughtful man, who adores his grandchildren, and sees a spark in Midge that Abe and Rose know is there, and they like it (though Rose will say she's too strange), but they don't nourish it the way Chaim does. Chaim loves that his little granddaughter is funny, and smart and giving and driven and a little weird.
Sadly, when Chaim dies, there isn't really anyone around to remind Midge that those things are good and not something she should have to hide. He wanted so much for Midge to be the unique person he knew she was. If he'd lived to see her wedding day to Joel, he likely wouldn't have been super thrilled.
If he'd lived longer - much longer - he would have like Susie. And even Lenny.
While he would probably be kind of shocked at Midge's blue material, he'd get the jokes. He wouldn't sit there stone-faced like Abe, or progressively get more drunk like Rose.
He'd laugh. He wouldn't be able to help himself. The jokes are funny. They're shocking, you know. To a man likely born in the 1870's, but they're funny.
Anyways! Thank you for asking this question! It's one of my most favorite things I've written. <3
#fic stuff#the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel#headcanon#fic#Chaim Weissman 1#Midge Maisel#ASP is a coward who won't give us more Weissmans#This got long
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Music manager Mrs Kim music manager Mrs Kim music manages Mrs Kim music manager Mrs Kim music manager-
#between 6.17 and that recent ASP interview#I now need just so many fics of Mrs Kim running a top tier management business from her antique shop#gilmore girls#mrs kim
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Calling writers and fic reccers
I have not been seeing AS much fic of late, and can't tell if we really started burning out this hard, or if my dash is just full of pretty things to look at.
Some of you may have noticed that I will reblog any fic or fic rec that I happen to see during my tumblr time.
So I am going to set up a featured tag that I will hopefully figure out how to track. #asp boost is what I am thinking.
If you write, or you rec written works, and want me and my pitifully small tumblr to boost it with a reblog, feel free to tag it that way... and as soon as I figure out the tracking tags thing, I will check my tracked tags and add those items to my queue.
Why written works and recs for written works? Because I've seen much smaller notes on many stories and story recs (other than the BIG writers) than on art, media, etc. And that is what I want to focus on.
Thank you in advance, please feel free to reblog this... and I am going to go figure out tag tracking.
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I just wanna know how our Starting Points babes are doing. Chris was a lil feral on reader there in that office. Like did sis end up with a baby like he kept saying in the past, how did the reveal of their relationship go? I would love to know these things
Well. Let’s see what these two are up to.
A Point of War coming up soon!
Read the A Starting Point Series.
#ask dj#dj answers#chris evans#chris evans smut#chris evans imagine#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x black reader#asp fic#a starting point fic#A Starting Point series#chris evans fan fic#chris evans x reader#chris evans rpf
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Can I Count on Your Love? ~ Chris Evans
Pairings: Chris Evans x F!Reader
Summary: Its been a year since the events of "Can I Count on Your Vote?" and you and Chris have some adult fun. But others decide its time for you two to end and one photo could destroy you both...
Word Count: 6.8k
Song: Adore You by Harry Styles
Warnings: Smut! Angst! Language, jealous, Chris in political mode, P in V, committed relationship, oral (M and F receiving), car sex,
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day everyone. This is a follow up to my other one shot which you can find here.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Main Masterlist
Politics is a cat and mouse game. You are either chasing someone to bring them down or you are on the chopping block.
Being the youngest senator made you the easy target, someone that the old guard hated for changing the status quo.
Chris loved how ambitious, tenacious, strong, driven, and beautiful you were. You would both lay for hours in bed, talking about how you both would change the world. Chris had no aspirations to be in office, but you had the ultimate goal in mind: being the first female president. Germany had done it, Great Britain has female prime ministers, so why couldn’t we do it here?
It was especially significant as the press and other political analysts were predicting that you could be the one to pull it off. The ASP chat helped launch your first bill about student debt in Congress, gaining the following of many around the country. It was touted as the first major move toward a potential historical presidential run. Chris said that ASP was doing even better because it was now being legitimized by everyone as a great source of verified information. That was his goal, to have a clean source of information for his fellow citizens.
Speaking of Chris, it's been about a year since you had decided to make it official. Well as official as it could be seen, it was still a secret to most of the world. After the ASP Chat on tuition went viral, a lot of speculation was made on whether the two of you were together due to the intense chemistry seen in the interview. But your teams made sure you were never photographed together; rendezvous were made on the low. Mostly it was you and Chris or your families hanging inside the gates of Chris’s house or your heavily secured apartment in either California or DC. It was tough but you both made it work.
Gearing up for the next session of Congress, you were reviewing your schedule with Steve, your assistant, when your receptionist, Ava, came in with a huge bouquet of roses. There were at least three dozen in different shades of red, white and pink. You smiled, knowing it was probably from Chris. Ava sits them down in the corner of your desk. “There’s a note, ma’am.”
You plucked the little card with a smile as your team waited patiently.
I know your secret.
And a photo floated out of the envelope.
Your smile froze and slowly morphed into fear. “Steve, I need the head of my security detail. Now. Ava, I need Chris and Megan as well.” They scurried from the room as you stared at the little card. You tried to swallow, get your breathing to calm as you noticed you were beginning to hyperventilate. The room began to tunnel as you tried to think of how anyone would know. As the phone began to ring, the room wobbled slightly. You could hear Ava say it was Chris, who was in town for ASP. You picked it up. “Chris?”
“Hey Baby.” When all he heard was a sob, he began to panic. “Baby? YN? YN! Answer me.”
“They saw us,” you whispered.
And the room went black.
A month prior…
“Chris, stop!” You squealed as Chris’s hand drifted higher and higher up the skirt of your dress. You had managed to have a private dinner at little Greek diner in Boston and Chris was driving you back to his house. Well, he was driving and coping a feel up your dress. He was horny, seeing you in his favorite little black dress and heels. He loved that you didn’t wear a lot of makeup either, just that gorgeous red lip that set off your exquisite eyes. Eyes that he saw the first time on stage in the California sun.
“Baby, you can’t wear this dress and not expect me to keep my hands to myself,” Chris said as you batted his hands away.
“You can wait until we get home and then I can let you know what’s underneath this dress,” you said with bite to your lower lip.
Chris groaned as his cock twitched. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I don’t think I can make it.” He saw a darken alley and pulled over.
“What do you think you are doing?” You looked around to see it was so dark you couldn’t see the trees or the road once Chris shut off the lights. Even your security team wasn’t in sight.
“I need to feel you, beautiful. I need to be inside you and I can't wait.” He leaned over and kissed you hard, taking your breath away, distracting you from the fact he took off your seatbelt. His hands, his large, gorgeous hands grip your waist and lower to your ass, lifting you and sliding you onto his lap. You gasp as you feel how hard he is underneath you. He groans at how hot you feel over his erection. “Jesus, baby.”
“Chris,” you moan as he begins to assault your neck, the brush of his beard rubbing your delicate skin just the right way.
Chris raised his hands all the way up your skirt, his nimble fingers on his right finding your heat while his left continued upwards to your breast. He dipped his hand inside your panties to find you hot and wet for him. “Oh honey, all for me,” as he swirled your leaking juices around your lips, just brushing your clit and making you jolt.
“All for you, my love,” you groan as he speeds up his motions, now tweaking your breast, hardening the nub as you begin to grind in his lap.
“Fuck sweetheart, I need to have you,” he whispers in your ear. He pulls his hand from your heat, listening to you whimper from the loss of his fingers. He quickly undoes his belt and his fly as you continue fondling your own breast. He pulls down his jeans and boxers enough to release his long thick cock and pump a few times before he moves your now soaked panties aside and thrust up into your pussy.
“Chris!” The stretch was incredible, the pleasure and pain mixing in a way that you had never felt before. The primal way Chris just rutted up into you was so different but oh so good. He took a hold of your hips to guide you up and down his shaft hard.
“Just like that baby, ride me hard. Let me fuck you senseless,” he growled. It was rough, it was fast. It was everything. The ribbons of pleasure started to ripple in your belly as your core began to grip his cock every time you moved. He sat up a little bit more, changing the angle and he was there. Hitting that spot inside that always made you see stars.
“Baby, I can’t...”
“Let go Senator,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me feel you. Soak me, love.” He thrusted up hard as he pulled you down.
“Chris!” You scream as you blacked out from the immense pleasure. Your head tilted back as Chris pressed his face into your chest as he chased his own end. He could barely move with how tight you had gotten with your own orgasm, and it was enough for him to swear loudly as he came inside you.
It took a minute to come down, Chris kissing your shoulder, neck, forehead until he felt your body start to relax. “Are you ok?”
She smiled but flinched when he moved slightly. “I’m ok. That was intense.”
Chris frowned, worry overcoming. “Did you not like...”
“I loved it, Chris. I like it rough and dirty sometimes. Don’t worry baby. I’m ok.” You kissed his forehead to smooth out the worry lines on his face. “Right now, I’m trying to figure out how to get back in my seat without making more of a mess.” You could feel the wetness that is getting ready to seep out.
That got Chris to chuckle. “Don’t worry baby. Once we get home, the gates close and no one is the wiser.” He kissed you softly this time. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
You got back into your seat as Harry Styles's Adore You started to play as Chris started the car. He took your hand and held it as he drove. He hummed along until he turned to you and sang...
Oh, honey (ah)
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Present...
“Sweetheart? YN? Can you hear me?”
It was the sweetest voice you knew. The voice of the man you loved. It was the only soothing thing your senses could understand. The rest was painful. Your head was pounding, your body ached, the blood pounding in your ears. After a moment, the soothing voice was now followed but gentle touches in your hair. Finally, your throat felt like it would accept air and allow you to speak. Your eyes fluttered and a groan escaped your mouth.
“Baby? Are you with us?”
The light was harsh in the room. Your office. Was your office always so bright? It took a couple of blinks of your eyes before you could focus and see Ava, Steve, Robert (your head of security) and Chris, who held your head in his lap. “Hi?”
“Hi. How are you feeling?”
“Sore, a little confused. What happened?”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “You fainted while on the phone with me.” He helped you sit up as Ava passed a glass of water. “Baby, what happened?”
You looked at the arrangement of roses and began to cry. “Someone sent me those with a note and a photo.” Robert went to the desk and saw everything on the floor. His eyes widened as he looked back at you.
“Miss YLN, I don’t...”
“How did they get that Robert? You told me we weren’t being followed. We weren’t even seen.”
Chris frowned. “Can I see that?” Robert handed the note and photo over. Chris saw and sucked in his breath. It was clearly a photo of you and him in the car from that night. You were still in Chris’s lap as Chris held you by your neck, kissing you. “Holy fuck.”
“What are we going to do Chris?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. He pulled out his phone and messaged Megan about an emergency meeting. “We are going to meet at your house with Robert, Megan and your chief of staff and we are going to figure this out.”
You nod, because it’s the sensible thing to do. But your heart felt fear, your head was on the metaphorical chopping block.
Later that night, both of your teams gathered in your dining room.
Megan looked at the picture and sighed. “Can one of you explain what happened?”
Chris cleared his throat and explained the dinner and pulling over and just having a moment of unadulterated love between himself and you. “We thought we were alone. I mean, I didn’t even see her security team. It was just one moment.”
Rachel, your chief of staff, was taking notes and scoffed. “Yeah, well, that one moment has the potential of going viral.
“Can you even tell it's us?” Chris asked.
Robert looked at the photo. “It’s a blurry photo. It has deniability to it unless the photographer has cooperating evidence of who is in the car. I’m going to sit down with the security team from that night and find out what happened.”
“And I think that we shouldn’t do anything unless there is an obvious threat,” Rachel said. I mean right now it’s someone saying they know but it doesn’t mean it’s someone from the other side. I say we wait it out. Jumping to action may be worse at this point.”
“I agree.” Megan looked at the photo. “Reaction would be bringing a spotlight to you two when it's not needed.”
You didn’t realize you were trembling until Chris took your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “Baby, what do you think?” When you didn’t answer, Chris placed his hand on your cheek to get you to focus on him. “YN, sweetheart, it's gonna be ok. Do you think this is a good plan?” You looked into the ocean blues that comforted you so many times before. They looked resolute in the decision, and you trusted that. You nodded but still a single tear slipped. “Honey, what is it?”
“I’m scared,” you whispered.
Chris’s heart dropped. He didn’t want his girl to be scared, not his brave warrior girl. He sucked in a breath to steady himself before he said, “Don’t be. I’ll be right by your side. Don’t you worry.” He kissed your forehead before he kissed your lips and kept his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing together as you both tried to keep calm.
A few weeks later, everything seemed to be back to normal. There were no more flowers, no other notes. You and Chris talked every day, just as before. You were on the phone with the governor of California when Rachel ran into the office. Flustered would have been the nice word to use. She looked like she had been tossed by a tornado. “Sorry governor, I have to be on the floor in a few minutes. Send my office the proposal and I’ll see what I can do to get this to the committee. I think you're right; we need to beef up the national parks act, and it should start with Yosemite.
“Thank you, Senator. We’ll see you for the Lunar New Year celebrations?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Have a great day!” You hung up and looked at Rachel. “What’s going on?”
“I’m so sorry Senator, it broke.” She handed over her tablet
“What broke?” You took the tablet and focused on the screen. And there it was, in full color was the photo. With an amazing headline:
DOES THE RISING STAR FRESHMEN SENATOR HAVE A SIDE JOB IN BOSTON? – IS THE HOT SHOT SENATOR FROM CALIFORNIA TRADING FAVORS FOR DONATIONS?
You blanched as you scroll through the article. It was still speculation that it was you but that it was clear from the photo that someone was caught in a compromising position inside of a car. The news site was still looking for more information, but an anonymous source implicated the Senator from California as the woman in the photo.
You could hear the office phones ringing as the screen blurred in your eyes. You read the article title over and over, wishing it would change to anything else, anyone else. Rachel could see you were starting to lose it as she was on the phone with someone.
“I've got to get out of here,” you whispered. It was like your body was now on automatic pilot. You stood up, grabbed your coat and bag and headed out the door. Your security team was trying to stop you, but you made it out the front door of your office to a barrage of flashes. The press was already all over the scandal, shouting questions and taking pictures of what would be a rather stunned face. Security from your office and the Capitol police surrounded you to allow you to walk to your waiting SUV. Rachel had been right behind you, shouting no comment as you walked trance-like. Robert had the door open for you and Rachel before climbing in the front and your usual driver, Edward, took off.
“Senator? Senator, look at me.” You turned your face slowly towards her. “I am going to get you through this. I’m trying to reach Chris or Megan to find out if it leaked from their camp.”
All you could do was nod. Four years of campaigning and working with other bi-partisan members was going down the drain as your phone kept pinging with more and more news outlets reporting the story. It was the ultimate nightmare.
The only solace was the security at your home. Gate controlled, security had called the police to make sure the road was cleared, and cameras were everywhere. But it provided very little comfort. All you wanted was Chris, but he was on set at the moment. Rachel was pacing, calling who she could to pull the story as you sat on your couch, leg bouncing, checking your phone every five minutes. After two hours, a call came to Rachel.
“Yeah. Hi Stacy... Yes, we saw it... No, we haven’t... What do you mean?... That's not what he promised her... What does Megan... oh... well what is she... ok... I’ll tell her. Thanks.” Rachel hung up and sat down next to you. “YNN, that was Stacy, Megan’s assistant at her firm. Umm, she stated that Megan and she talked to Chris, and they aren’t going to be making a statement. Since no one knew you two were in a relationship, there was no need to drag Chris into it.”
“What?” You breathed. “He... he promised to stand by me.”
“I know sweetie but that’s what they have decided.”
Your head spun. You wouldn’t believe that Chris would do this. He didn’t even have the guts to tell you himself. You picked up your phone and sent him a message.
YN: We just spoke to your management firm and know about your decision. I thought we loved each other but I guess I was mistaken. Don’t worry I won’t drag you into this. Goodbye Chris.
You went through your contacts and blocked his number. You did the same on your socials and put your phone down. “Rachel, what is the statement we want to put out?” You put on your game face. Your heartache and tears could come later.
The next day, Rachel called a press conference in front of your office. You chose to be yourself in a sharp black suit with a pink blouse and black heels. It was your confident outfit, and you would need every ounce of it to make the statement you needed to make. The makeup artist touched up your face and then it was time.
“Good morning, let me first address the photo. Yes, I did engage in some intimate acts with someone in a vehicle. To protect their privacy, I will not be naming my partner ever. Second, my security team is launching an investigation into the photo as we know it was not a member of the press who invaded my private moment.” You took a breath, “I should have had better judgement in where I had my intimate relations at and used better judgement overall. The blame for this is on me alone. If my constituents are upset by my actions, I sincerely apologize. I have strived to be an example to everyone and in this case, I wish I wasn’t. The man I was with is no longer in my life and I would like to extend my apologies to him for this transgression. I will be meeting with the chair of the Senate ethics committee for all punishments and/or reprimands that I have earned. Thank you.
You walked away from the media circus and back to the seclusion of your office. As you sat, Rachel came to give you a hug. Now you can mourn. And you did just that.
Chris’s POV
The person you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time.
Chris looked at his phone, heartbroken. You had blocked him. Chris watched the press conference playback with mixed emotions. He was so proud of you for standing up and accepting responsibility, but he should have been by your side making his own statement. He looked at the last message he received and called Megan. “What the hell, Megan! Why are we not standing next to her?”
“Chris you are filming, and I hadn’t even had a chance to talk to you before her team advised us that she was going to make a statement.”
“Who did they talk to?”
Megan waited for a beat. “Stacy. Look Chris...”
“Megan, I want her fired. I told you she had been inappropriate with me multiple times and now this. She wanted YN to break up with me because she thought I would go out with her. I am in love with YN, and she just fucked that up!”
“I know Chris, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”
“How? She blocked me, she’s angry. She...” he took a breath because his body was vibrating with pain, “she took that bullet for me all alone. Her entire career... she did that for me.”
“Chris, we will fix it okay? Let me handle Stacy.”
“I want to be there Megan. I want to see her face when I say that I am in love with YN. I need YN back, Megan.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Chris hung up and looked though the pictures on his phone. His perfect girl. Fuck, he was the one who pulled over, but she was the one taking the hit. As he slid through the pictures, one floated by. Her calendar. He sat up straighter and a plan came to his head.
A couple of days later, Chris was back in Boston and sitting in Megan’s conference room. Megan was sitting next to him, both in silence as they waited for the last member of their meeting to arrive. Stacy walked in confidently, a sway in her hips as if she knew Chris would be there and finally ready to declare that he too was also “in feelings” with her. After all, they had softly flirted when he was in the office. They had coffee together. He liked her and this was her moment. She flicked her hair back as she sat across from them. “You wanted to speak to me.”
“Yeah, we had a question. Who gave you the photo of YN in the car?” Megan asked.
Stacy’s smile faltered slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you know that all of your emails from your work computer are monitored? Since that last hack, I had IT put in the monitoring service.”
At that Stacy’s smile fell. “What?”
“So, before we send this information to DCPD and congressional security, who gave you the photo?”
Stacy blanched as she looked from Megan to Chris. “Mike, one of the senator’s security guards gave it to me.”
“Interesting. And why did you give it to gossip mags?”
“To break YN and Chris up. She took what I wanted.” Chris scoffed as he stood up and walked to the door. “Chris please! I’m sorry but I thought we had something!”
“When? During the scheduled meetings or when you were helping Megan on the red carpet. I am in love with YN. I hope she presses charges for the invasion of privacy. Megan?”
“Oh, right. You’re fired, for cause. You signed a non-disclosure agreement for our clients and their families which you violated the minute you sent the photo to the magazine. Security is outside to escort you out. Your personal belongings will be searched before they are mailed out to you.”
“No, please...”
“Have a good day Stacy,” as security walked in, and Chris and Megan walked out and headed to her office. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” She headed to her sideboard and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Chris. “Have you been able to get a hold of YN?”
Chris shook his head. “No, she’s blocked me from everything. I got in touch with Rachel, but she said that YN has a ‘no calls allowed’ for me with her team.” Chris took a swallow. “Said YN has been crying a lot in her office.”
“Oh Chris,” Megan frowned.
“This is all my fault Megan. I pulled over and I convinced her.”
“Chris, this wasn’t your fault. You are still human. You are still allowed to have fun. You both weren’t expecting someone you both trusted to violate your privacy. You have every right to be angry. You have every right to be sad that your relationship was broken by jealous people. But you cannot blame yourself. We are going to fix this, and we are going to get your girl back. Are you ready to do anything to show her you love her?”
Chris laughed. “I would do anything to win her back.”
Your POV
It was a few weeks after “picture-gate” and you were getting ready for the Valentine’s Day charity event. An event where you were supposed to make your debut with Chris. Who is now your ex. “Fuck me,” you mumble to yourself. You look in the mirror, seeing a woman who kinda looks like you, if she didn’t have red-rimmed eyes, shallow looking cheeks and a sad look on her face. It had been hell without him. You never realized how much comfort Chris brought to you. How his strong arms held you close to his chest, his heartbeat your lullaby, his voice a song. You missed him desperately, but he didn’t want to stand next to you. It makes you question whether he lied about being with a strong woman.
You shake yourself and inspect your dress. The theme was love, obviously, so you had chosen a red gown, strapless with a sweetheart neckline. It was tight in the bodice until it hit your waist and then flowed out in layers of chiffon. Heels and diamond studs completed the look with soft waves framing your face. You sighed, wishing he had been there to see it, the dress you picked with him in mind. But he would never be there, he wouldn't come back. He made his choices.
As you arrived at the gala, sans date, you thought back to the last few weeks. The person who took the photo was found, Mike, and fired. Mike had been one of your personal guards since you started. Apparently, when questioned, he took the photo to create a scandal because he was obsessed with you and wanted Chris out of the way. Mission accomplished, you guessed, but not in the way he wanted. Charges were filed, restraining orders in place, a press release later, and the scandal died out. Some of the old guards still avoided you but the party and your constituents stood by you. They held support rallies and feminist movements. You were a woman, yes, but you should have been treated like a man. It warmed your heart a bit in the days post Chris.
Arriving alone, you walked the press line, dodging questions that wanted to bring back the scandal and headed into the venue. Your date, who walked in alone as well was waiting. As patient as ever for Rachel, who is never patient. Dinner was lovely, the jazz band playing romantic tunes. You mingled with other donors and attendees, making the most out of the evening. Finally, the special, surprise guest performer was announced.
The host of the evening introduced Grammy award winning artist Harry Styles to the stage. You loved him and sang along. It was quite the performance, Harry doing all of his hits. You sway with the music, a glass of champagne keeping you warm. As Harry ends, Watermelon Sugar, the crowd cheers.
“How is everyone doing?” Harry asks and the crowd cheers in response. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Harry takes a breath. “So, I got a call from a guy who wanted to let a girl know how much she means to her. See he messed up and asked me to help him tell his girl he adores her. You don’t have to say anything honey, just know he would walk through fire for you and he’s sorry that you had to walk alone. This song is for her.”
You weren’t really paying attention; the words were beautiful, but you didn’t want to be a part of someone else’s declaration of love. As Harry’s Adore You began to play, you felt a tear in your eye. This was the last thing Chris had sung to you.
Walk in your rainbow paradise (paradise)
Strawberry lipstick state of mind (state of mind)
I get so lost inside your eyes
Would you believe it?
You don't have to say you love me
You don't have to say nothing
You don't have to say you're mine
Honey (ah)
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Oh, honey (ah)
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Like it's the only thing I'll ever do
Like it's the only thing I'll ever do
You sway to the music, eyes closed, losing yourself to the music but the crowd starts to part as the spotlight follows a person across the floor. As the last person parts, a gasp runs through the crowd, and you open your eyes.
And Chris is there, in a black tux, holding a single red rose.
You look around to see if he is looking at anyone else but no, it's you. He walks over and takes the champagne glass from your hand. “Chris...”
“Not yet,” he whispers as he pulls you into his arms. He starts to move you across the dance floor.
You're wonder under summer skies (summer skies)
Brown skin and lemon over ice
Would you believe it?
You don't have to say you love me
I just wanna tell you somethin'
Lately you've been on my mind
Honey (ah)
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Oh, honey (ah)
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Like it's the only thing I'll ever do
Like it's the only thing I'll ever do
“Chris,” you whisper. “What are you doing?”
“Shh. Baby, just let me adore you.” He spins you around and back taking a hold of you again, the only two people on the dance floor.
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Oh, honey (ah)
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Like it's the only thing I'll ever do
(Ah)
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
Oh, honey (ah)
Oh, honey
I'd walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
oh, honey
(Oh)
Just let me adore you
Like it's the only thing I'll ever do
As the song finishes, he pulls you even closer so your foreheads touch as he sings the last of the lyrics to you. You are trying everything not to sob in front of these people. As the band slows, Chris pulls back slightly. “I didn’t stand next to you. And even though that wasn’t my decision, I still should have made a statement right away. You shouldn’t have done that alone and I am so sorry sweetheart.”
“I just wanted to protect you, Chris.”
“And I just wanted to stand behind my woman.” He swallows, his nerves starting to show a bit. “I had something planned tonight.” He kisses your hand. “We have been together for a while, and it has been the time of my life. I have never been happier. Your dreams are my dreams, and your happiness is mine. I never want to let go. Because I adore you, I’d walk through fire for you.”
He stepped back and knelt to the ground on one knee.
You’re pretty sure you have stopped breathing at this point.
“YNN, I love you so much. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you and all our dreams. Can we take on the world together?” He popped open a little red box holding a stunning princess cut diamond solitaire. “Will you marry me?”
Your face really doesn’t give anything away. It is just a single tear that falls. Chris is starting to think this is a bad idea before he sees the smallest nod, before the biggest smile he has ever seen. It was bigger than when you won your election. “Yes! Yes, Chris yes!” You fall into his arms just as he’s standing. The crowd cheers as he swings you around.
After a moment, he sat you down and took out the ring to slide it onto your finger. You look at it before you look back at your fiancé. He cups your face before he kisses you gently.
And you’re home.
The rest of the night was a blur. The only thing that stood out was the call to your parents. Chris had visited them before flying out to the gala. He sat with your father and explained everything. Your dad was satisfied that his little girl was in good hands and gave his blessing. As you walked out of the venue, the press was relentless in asking about your and Chris’s relationship. Rachel and your security team keep them at bay as Chris keeps his arm around you, your head resting against his chest. He got you into the car and Robert drove you away. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper.
“I am so sorry, baby,” Chris pulls so you are seated in his lap, letting you bury your face into his neck. “Mike, he gave the picture to Stacy. She never told us anything about talking to you until it was too late.” He nuzzled into your hair. “I wanted to be here.” He kisses your head. “I never wanted you to do that alone.”
“I shouldn’t have... I should have...”
“Shh, baby, you had no reason to not believe Stacy. I wish you had waited but I still should have made my own statement.” He sighed as he leaned back on the seat and tightened his grip on you. “But that’s the past. You are my future.”
“I can’t believe you proposed.” You stare down at the diamond on your hand. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“Well, is that the ring I wanted or that I would say yes?”
He chuckled. “Honey, you don’t think I didn’t noticed when you would ‘airdrop’ hints to my phone when I wasn’t paying attention or when we would see jewelry on vacation?” He picked up your hand and played with the ring. “You are never flashy or over the top, but you always sparkle. So, when I went with my sisters and ma shopping, we saw this one and it just said ‘YN.’”
The tears started to well in your eyes again. He really did know you.
“Oh honey, don’t cry.” He cupped your face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears.
“I’m sorry, just,” you sniff, “it's been so hard without you. And I, I just can’t believe you got Harry Styles to dedicate a song to me, to us. The last time I heard it...” you trail off.
Chris’s face softened. “Was the last time we were together. I remember.” You pulled up to your townhome, and Chris climbed out, holding out his hand for you. As you walked to the door, he whispered in your ear, “I remember that I owed you a better time as well.” He opened the door and you gasped.
Candles, roses, and champagne were waiting for you in your living room. A gentle fire was on in the fireplace, with pillows and blankets laid out on the floor. As you took it in, Chris stood behind you, kissing your neck and shoulders. “I don’t think I told you how beautiful you looked in this dress.” You moan as he trails his fingers over the top of your dress. He nipped at that spot on your neck as he pulled the zipper down, his thick finger trailing down your spine.
“Chris,” you whimper as goosebumps bloom on your skin, his wet, open mouth kisses setting every nerve on fire.
“I want to worship you, my fiancé,” he growled as he let the dress drop, showing him the red lace strapless bra and matching panties and garter belt, you had on. “Fuck me, is this new?”
“I bought it for you, and I never got the chance to wear it for you,” you replied, blushing.
“You are perfection, my love.” He sat in the chair. “Twirl for me.” Still in your heel clad feet, you stood in front of him, just out of his reach and did a slow spin. He growled at your teasing as he reached for you, and you stepped back. “What do you think you are doing, Mrs. Evans?”
“Who said anything about changing my name?” You giggled as his gaze darkened a little. “I’m a little exposed baby. That jacket and shirt needs to come off.”
Chris stood but never took his eyes off of you as he discarded his jacket, tie and shirt, leaving him in just his suit, pants and shoes. “What now, Senator?”
“Sit,” you ordered, and he followed your direction quickly. You grabbed a pillow and kneeled in front of him, sliding your hands up his legs. He shuddered at your touch, leaning his head back as you undid his pants. You tapped his hip so he could raise them, and you pulled down his pants and boxer briefs so his cock could spring out. You wrapped your hand the best you could around the base and pumped, getting his attention back on you. You looked him straight in the eye as you licked the tip that had a bead of precome on it.
“Fuck, YN,” he mumbled as you took the entire head in your mouth, eyes never leaving yours. You worked him, softly at first and then harder, slowing down again, much to Chris’s frustration. As you took him to the back of your throat again, you felt him twitch and suddenly you were on your back on the floor as Chris settled in between your legs. He got your bra off first, then the garter, nipping at your skin the entire time.
“Baby, I...” You really didn’t know what you were trying to say. Your brain was overloaded with the sensations on your skin. Chris was everywhere, everywhere, all at once and it caused the pressure to build. Finally, it was just your panties and heels, but Chris made no move to remove either. He ran his nose up and down your covered pussy, grazing your clit and getting what he wanted: a wanton moan from your mouth.
“I love that sound, love.” Chris grasped the sides of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs and over the heels. “I want these hooked around my ears,” he said. “But for now,” he spread your legs wide, “they can hold you open.” He kissed right on your mound and then dove in with his tongue, eating like a man starved. His hands held your thighs open, not allowing you to find some sort of relief until he could feel you tremble. “Are you close, gorgeous?”
“I’m gonna cum, Chris, please!”
“Cum, YN! Let me drink you in!” His dirty talk always got to you, and it was enough for you to let go, a silent scream coming from your mouth as the world went dark. Chris didn’t stop, making it last longer. He finally slowed and began to kiss up your body. His cock was throbbing, needing to find its own release but he wouldn’t stop until he was buried in you. Finally, he was on top, brushing a strand of hair away, looking down at his future wife, the future mother of his children. He teased your entrance before slowly pushing in. “Are you still...”
“Never stopped,” you replied breathlessly, answering his unasked question about birth control. He bottomed out and you both groaned in relief to be reunited again. He fits perfectly, molded inside of you.
“God, still tight and warm, like I never left.” Chris pulled out slowly before slamming into you. You cried out with each thrust, finally getting the relief you missed. It was slow and torturous but oh, so good.
“Chris, fuck, harder, please!”
“Oh baby,” he cooed. “We have all night.” He sped up his hips to hit your spot inside over and over, but he felt you tighten, gripping him so hard it was becoming hard to move. “Let go baby. Give it to me again. God, this pussy was made for me, gripping me, strangling my cock. Milk me, my fiancé, cum now!” That was it; you cummed hard around him, triggering his own release, “Fuck YES!”
He finally slowed down but never pulled out. He rolled you over, so you were laid out on top of him, and he wrapped a blanket around you both.
“Happy Valentine’s Day Senator.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, future husband.”
The morning headlines were everything Rachel wanted and more. An election to gear up for and a fairytale wedding for the future President and Hollywood’s leading man.
WITNESSING A FAIRYTALE: DC’S GOLDEN GIRL AND HOLLYWOOD’S GUY NEXT DOOR CONFIRM RELATIONSHIP WITH A PROPOSAL!
A/N: I wish this was America’s next royal family of politics. LOL.
Taglist:
@patzammit @slutforchrisjamalevans @jennmurawski13-writes @firephotogrl74 @texmexdarling @tinkerbelle67
#andy's hea#andy's shenanigans#Chris evans#chris evans smut#chris evans fic#Chris Evans au#asp chris#chris evans story#chris evans fanfiction#Chris Evans x reader#chris evans x you#Chris Evans being a romantic#happy valentine's day#Valentines day chris#adore you
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𝐀 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 ∘ ∘ ∘ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ∘ ∘ ∘ ║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ
|| | main masterlist | ||
some insight into my thoughts about this collection
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| PAIRING(s): sub!Joel Miller x dom!fem!OC
| RATING: explicit material | 18+
| CONTENT: exploration of power dynamics, submissive and domination practices, dirty talk, rewards and punishments, kinky shit idk? this is legit an entire collection about Joel being a submissive lmao
| SYNOPSIS:
Set in Jackson // Joel Miller has been a tightly wound grump since the day you first met. His gruff, unfriendly demeanor is enough of a deterrent for most everyone, but you’re not fazed by it one bit, which only seems to aggravate him even more. When his surly disposition puts you in peril, you’ve had enough and are determined to change his attitude for good.
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BENEATH A WANING MOON
| SYNOPSIS:
You’re patrol partners with Joel, and that’s where you first noticed just how tightly wound the man is. His unrelenting need to be in control of any given situation or interaction is more irritating than anything. That is, until it actually becomes dangerous during one fateful patrol shift together.
BETWEEN THE SHADOW AND THE SOUL
| SYNOPSIS:
Pegging, but make it therapeutic. And maybe a little romantic?
✨BONUS KINKTOBER PROMPTS✨:
Day 5 - Sitting Pretty
Day 8 - The Due Rewards of Our Deeds
Day 12 - Show Me
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Fic: All Is Well
@klaine-word-scramble: gasping (bonus words in tags)
Words: ~2200 words
Rating: Teen and up
Summary: The missionaries don't want to leave the Deutsches Museum. Elder Nixon gets ready to meet with the mission president.
This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place directly after Between Eternity and Eritrea and before The Luckiest.
My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (More recent posts are in bold.)
––––
By now, the rest of the missionaries had joined them. They stayed long enough to listen to the museum worker do a demonstration on the harpsichord, but only because Blaine’s feet were glued to the floor and the other missionaries’ numerous attempts to tug him away failed.
Kurt wasn't one of the missionaries to give it a try. If he had, Blaine would have immediately been uprooted.
They were cutting it close on time, but that didn't keep them from stopping to stare at the Foucalt’s pendulum on their way out of the museum. It hung in the center of the three-story stairwell, a heavy leaden ball on the end of a 60-meter cord, swinging slowly back and forth across the 10-foot span of a circular platform. A sign explained that the pendulum offered proof of the earth’s rotation, because a pendulum should move back and forth in a straight line, and yet, with each sweep, its angle changed slightly until, over the course of about thirty-two hours, it made a complete circle.
“Why is it thirty-two hours instead of twenty-four?” Kurt wondered aloud. “Shouldn't the earth and the pendulum spin at the same rate?”
“They do at the North and South poles. But the closer you get to the equator, the more it slows down. It doesn’t move at all at the equator,” said Elder Saint James.
“How do you know that?” Kurt asked. He seemed highly suspicious, almost accusatory—as if it were previously unheard of for Elder Saint James to know anything at all.
“I’ve been to the Deutsches Museum before. This is my favorite exhibit next to the weather satellites. We had a guide who wrote out this long equation with the letter pi that was supposed to explain why the pendulum slows down away from the poles.” Elder Saint James rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Let's wait until it knocks over the next pin.”
“Until what?” asked Elder Meeks, who likely hadn’t understood the German word for pin.
“See the little pins lined up on one side of the circle? When the pendulum changes its angle enough, it'll knock over the next pin.” Elder Saint James made up for his certainly-incomprehensible-to-a-greenie vocabulary by aping the movements of pendulum and pin with his body.
“When's that going to happen?” asked Elder Nixon. “We don't want to be late getting back to the conference. I have my meeting with President Steele in half an hour. And Elder Anderson is right after mine.”
“You don't want to be late,” answered Elder Saint James. “I don't care. I'm on my last transfer. They're not going to send me home for spending five extra minutes at the Deutsches Museum. So, you and Elder Anderson can head back on your own, or you can blame me for delaying you.”
Elder Nixon looked at Blaine.
“It only takes ten minutes to get back there, if we walk fast,” Blaine said. He felt very daring. Possibly even rebellious.
“I really do want to see this thing knock a pin down,” said Elder Nixon. That decided things.
It was odd, how exciting it was to watch a ball on the end of a string move back and forth. With each swing, it got incrementally closer to the next pin, and yet not close enough. Blaine felt the tension build, his skin buzzing with anticipation.
It might also have had something to do with Kurt standing right next to him, so close that their sleeves touched.
“Why isn't watching a clock this exciting?” asked Elder Nixon. “It's the same concept.”
“Because clocks don't knock things down, obviously,” said Elder Saint James, not taking his eyes off the pendulum.
Ping!
The metal pin fell. The missionaries let out a unified gasp.
Blaine felt a pleasant, bubbly feeling all through his body. He hadn't realized how tense he'd become waiting for that something to happen.
Also, Kurt had squeezed his forearm at the moment of impact.
Blaine looked around to avoid looking at Kurt and thinking about his lips again. “Hey. Where did Elder Halberstadt go?”
“Er ging zur Badenzimmer,” said Elder Meeks. He used the wrong gender for Badenzimmer and should really have said Toilette, but Elder Saint James spoke before Blaine could correct him.
“By himself?”
“it's right over there,” answered Elder Meeks, with good grammar this time.
“You're not supposed to let your companion do anything alone,” said Elder Saint James. “It's not like the MTC, where you know somebody is always going to have eyes on him.”
“Even the bathroom?” said Elder Meeks, his nose wrinkling.
Elder Saint James didn't say anything immediately. Gears seemed to be turning in his head. “You're right. That is kind of weird. After two years, I've kind of become desensitized to the smell of other people’s shit, but why did I have to smell it in the first place? What are you gasping about, Elder Meeks? Is it because I said ‘shit’? It's not as rude in German as it is in English. It’s more like …” He switched to English. “Crap.”
“Well,” interjected Kurt, “that's not polite either, Elder Saint James.”
“I guess,” Elder Saint James shrugged. “But it's also not a sin to say it.”
Elder Halberstadt reappeared. “Did anyone lecture Elder Meeks yet for letting me go to the bathroom alone?”
“Wait,” said Elder Saint James. “Was that the point of you doing it. To test him?”
“Of course.” Elder Halberstadt gave him a confused look.
Kurt went still, like an asp ready to pounce. “That’s a jerk move.”
Elders Saint James and Nixon nodded in agreement. Blaine felt himself nodding, too.
Elder Halberstadt’s jaw fell to gaping. “Wait. So now you’re all going to nag me for trying to properly train my greenie?”
They continued nodding.
“You Americans. I never know when you’re going to have a stick up your butts about the rules, and when you just won’t care. Elder Clarington would have loved it.”
“Elder Clarington’s from Utah,” said Elder Nixon. “We aren’t.”
“Well. It’s not fair to gang up on the only actual German in your group.”
“You’re the one causing trouble for Elder Meeks. Be nicer to him, and we won’t,” Kurt said sternly.
It might have been that Kurt was being protective. It could have been his kindness, or the authority with which he spoke. Or maybe it was because Kurt saw that, while both Elder Meeks and Elder Halberstein had broken a rule, intent made one infraction wrong, and the other inconsequential.
Whatever it was, it sent a pang of longing right through Blaine’s chest.
Blaine still didn't know if he was in love. But he was definitely a sap for his companion.
*
They must have made an interesting sight, six young men in white shirts and ties, jogging down the sidewalk in their dress shoes to make it back to the stake center on time. But if anyone stared at them, Blaine hadn't noticed. He was too busy trying not to stare himself—at the back of Kurt’s neck, at the way his shoulder blades moved under the fabric of his shirt and his pants shifted flatteringly around his thighs with each step.
Blaine understood, for the first time, why a previous companion had planned their walking routes to avoid billboards of naked women hawking body wash. Kurt wasn't even naked, and yet the degree of distraction Blaine felt was all-encompassing.
Wait. Did Blaine want to see Kurt naked?
It was with this thought that Blaine sat down in the hallway outside President Steele’s office. That needed to change, pronto. There was absolutely nothing to gain by entering a meeting with your mission president in such a state of distraction.
Blaine let his eyes pan over the hallway, searching for something to think about other than … the thing he needed not to be thinking about. Under the bench along the opposite wall, the aging carpet was a slightly different color, and the nap was crushed flat. Blaine guessed a radiator had once been there, from the gap in the carpet that looked just the right size for a radiator pipe, and the bench was supposed to cover it up.
So much of what happened in the church was cosmetic, wasn’t it? You were always supposed to put your best face forward, exude happiness, obey cheerfully—even when you were asked to betray the truth of who you were. Even when the face you put on wasn't truly yours.
“How are you holding up, Elder Nixon?”
“I wish we could take naps, given that I haven't had a chance to eat any … you know … today.”
Ah, yes. Coffee beans. In light of Kurt, Blaine had managed to forget all about that conundrum.
“You want me to ask around? Schwester Rose usually has a Spezi with her.” Spezi was a surprisingly tasty mix of orange soda and caffeinated cola. “She might let you have a sip.”
Elder Nixon shook his head. “No nip off the bottle for me. I'd rather go into my meeting sober. Give me a clearer head for... I don't know. I guess I should confess to my own transgressions. But do you think I should tell him about what I found in the trash can? I hate to be a tattletale.”
Blaine saw that as a good thing. But if it weighed so heavily on Elder Nixon's conscience, maybe he should speak up. “If you’re worried Elder Clarington’s hurting himself, then I don't think it qualifies as tattling anymore. Would it help to pray together about it before you go in?”
“Yeah, but silently. Anybody could wander by.”
They both bowed their heads and crossed their arms. In the chapel, the gathered missionaries sang the German version We Thank Thee O God for a Prophet. It wasn’t Blaine’s favorite hymn. He preferred the ones about Jesus and love. But at least the line that bothered Blaine the most had been softened in translation. In German, it went And though the world mocks us, we remain eternally faithful to you instead of The wicked who fight against Zion will surely be smitten at last.
Blaine had no place in his worldview for smiting. But he understood the pain of mockery and the comfort of faith. The world mocked Kurt for the things that made him beautiful to Blaine. And maybe the world would mock Blaine, too, if it knew how Blaine was starting to feel. But God would remain faithful.
So Blaine prayed to that God. Not the God who laid out bizarre plans that had to be followed to a ‘T,’ regardless of an individual’s circumstances. Not the God who wanted his children to praise the prophets with the same fervor that they praised Christ. And definitely not the God who smote his enemies.
Blaine prayed to the God he knew in his heart. The one who had no enemies, because he loved everyone the same. The one who cared more about Elder Nixon’s happiness and Elder Clarington’s health than about whether they ate coffee beans.
“Thanks,” Elder Nixon said when they were done. “Whatever you were praying, it helped.”
“That could have been your prayer.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been praying about this for days, and never felt like I got an answer. And now—well, I’m still don't have any answer yet. But I have reassurance. The Holy Ghost is with me, and I know the right words will come when I’m talking to President Steele.”
The door to the office opened. A missionary with on his nametag stepped out. Blaine recognized him as one of the greenies from Elder Meeks’ cohort. Elder Surette looked at both their nametags and gestured at Elder Nixon. “You now,” he said—which sounded rude, but was probably an effect of barely being able to speak the language.
Blaine patted Elder Nixon’s back as the greenie returned to the chapel. “Have a pig!” Which sounds weird in English, but not so much in German. It means something akin to good luck, or, as Blaine preferred to think of it, be ready to receive God’s blessings.
In the chapel, the other missionaries continued to sing. The words of Come, Come Ye Saints flowed out into the hall, erasing the bitter taste of the previous hymn from Blaine’s mouth.
Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard? ’Tis not so; all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward if we now shun the fight?
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we’ll have this tale to tell—All is well! All is well!
This was the God Blaine loved—the God who forsook no one, who strengthened Blaine to face his struggles, who made him braver than his worries. The God who created the earth and called it good. The God who created Kurt and called him good. The God who put something that felt an awful lot like love in Blaine’s heart, because love was good. Love was right.
All really was well, in God’s eyes.
That’s all Blaine needed to know.
#mormon!klaine#wowbright writes fic#klaine-word-scramble#klaine fic#klaine fanfiction#i am nothing if not obsessive with word puzzles apparently#ping sing pin pins sin gasp sang pang gang ging nag nap gap sap sip spin span gaping gain nip naps aging aping pan pig asp as is in an pi#I missed sag and gin#that i know of
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“So, how should we break the news that they’re going to have a new baby brother or sister?”
“So how should we tell them?”
Joel is sitting in front of her, the stress of impending fatherhood clear in his body language. Midge raises an eyebrow.
“You think you could’ve started brainstorming a little earlier?”
“I’ve been busy!” he tries to deflect.
“Mei is seven months pregnant, Joel. Even Ethan’s gonna realize soon enough.”
“Alright fine, I just — what do you want me to tell them?”
“Probably something like, “Mei and I love each other very much and we’re having a baby”. It’s not nuclear science.”
“You don’t think they’re gonna hate the baby?”
There’s a hint of genuine worry in his voice, and she softens up.
“They won’t. They loved Lenny’s daughter.”
Joel looks at her for an instant — he opens his mouth and closes it again, then sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. Midge holds back a laugh.
“So, the kids met?” he asks finally, and for the first time he just sounds genuinely curious. No bitterness, no jealousy.
Midge nods and looks down at her hands, twisting her engagement ring.
“I’m happy for you, Midge,” he says, sincerely. “I really am.”
“I’m happy for you too, Joel.”
They look at each other again and smile. He clinks his coffee mug against hers.
“You think we’re going make it?” he asks. “Be married again, raise kids with someone else?”
“I think it’s going to be amazing.”
#platonic fluff?#fic prompts#Joel/Mei#Midge/Lenny#I just want to see midge and Joel being friendly coparents ok#pLEASE I love divorced parents being friends after their relationship ended badly#ASP please write midge/Joel like TIU did Kevin/Madison it’s my only wish for them
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