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joelmillerisapunk · 2 months

Text

unbelievable

mechanic!Joel x f!reader

masterlist

wordcount: 4,489

summary: the 'It's not just your car that needs fixing, is it?' Trope

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, lots of fingering, there's a joint, lots of 'sweetheart', some aftercare but like a bit different (I don't wanna spoil it) mentions of anxiety (bc I'm an anxious bltch and this would happen to me) fluffy smut?

notes: hiii 🥰 I hope you like mechanicJoel because I fell in love with him so fast, he has no right being so hot 🙃 The title is unbelievable by diamond rio, it felt pretty accurate to my inner Joel dialogue. a big thank you to @saradika-graphics & @firefly-graphics for the dividers (graphic designers deserve the world honestly)

You've always had a thing for rugged men, and Joel Miller is the epitome of a handsome, rough-around-the-edges mechanic. His strong hands, grease-stained clothes, and confident demeanor make your heart race every time you see him, which has been a lot recently since your old car has been having its fair share of problems.

It's a hot summer day, and you decide to visit the garage where Joel works, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. As you walk in, the smell of oil and gasoline fills your nostrils, making you feel a little lightheaded. But then, you see him. He's hunched over a car engine, his muscular arms covered in sweat and grime. Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him.

You approach Joel, trying to act cool and collected, even though your insides are turning to jelly. "Hey, Joel," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was wondering if you could help me with my car again. It's been making a weird noise, and I don't know what to do."

Joel looks up at you, his beautiful brown eyes meeting yours. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of grease on his face. "Sure thing, sweetheart," he says with an almost knowing grin. You've been coming to see him every couple of weeks for the past few months. "Let me take a look for you, darlin."

As Joel inspects your car, you can't help but steal glances at his muscular physique. You imagine what it would be like to run your hands over his firm chest and his stomach, to feel his stubble scratch against your skin as he kisses you. The thought makes you wet, and you squirm, trying to hide your arousal.

But Joel notices. He looks up at you, his gaze intense and seductive. "You seem a little flustered, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "Is there something on your mind?"

You swallow hard, trying to gather your nerves. The heat in the garage is making you feel more and more flustered, and the idea of Joel noticing your arousal only adds to your embarrassment. "Uh, yeah, I guess so," you manage to reply.

Joel's eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your shirt clings to your body and the way your nipples are hardening under the hot conditions. "I can tell you've been coming to see me for a while now. It's not just your car that needs fixing, is it?"

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel the heat rising to your face. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammer, trying to deny the truth even to yourself.

But Joel isn't backing down. He steps closer to you, his body towering over yours. "I can help you with your car, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low growl. "But if you're looking for something else, something a little more personal, I can do that too."

Your mind is racing as you try to figure out what to do. On one hand, you've always had a thing for rough-and-tumble men like Joel, and the idea of being with him is almost too much to bear. On the other hand, you're not sure if you're ready for something like that with someone you're not even dating. As you stand there, frozen in indecision, Joel reaches out and gently takes your hand in his. "It's okay, darlin," he says, his voice soft and reassuring. "You don't have to decide right now. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Joel continues working on your car, he takes his time, making sure to do everything a little slower. He runs his hand over the engine, and with every turn of the wrench and every adjustment of parts, you can't help but feel your heart race, your skin tingle, and your body heat up. He's wearing a pair of tight jeans that hug his thighs, and every time he bends over the car, you catch a glimpse of the outline of his bulge. You wonder what it would feel like to touch him there, to feel him hard and ready against your skin. Your mind races with fantasies of him taking you, claiming you, making you his in ways that go far beyond the mechanical fixings of a car.

Joel takes a bit of a break from your car, and you think he's about to tell you what was wrong with it. "You know, sweetheart, I could fix more than just your car," he repeats himself again, " I could fix all your problems, make you feel good in ways you've never felt before."

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "What do you mean?"

Joel grins, a knowing look in his eyes. "I mean, I could show you the kind of fixings that only a man like me can provide," he says, his voice low and seductive. "Make you mine, take you right here. I promise you, it's something you'd never forget.”

“Oh, uh I, uhm I need to -” You pause, looking at your phone, “I have a thing soon. So I should uh go when you're done.” You can barely keep yourself together as you fumble through your sentence.

Joel smirks, "Of course, sweetheart," he says, his voice reassuring. "When you're ready, I'll be here.”

As you exit the garage, you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through your veins. Joel's words have left you feeling both turned on and terrified at the same time.

You spend the next few hours trying to shake off the encounter, but your mind keeps wandering back to Joel's words and the way his body made you feel. You can't stop thinking about the way his muscles bulged under his tight jeans, or the way his hair curled, his strong jawline, or the way those lips would part everytime he would focus on your car. You want to touch him, taste him, feel him- anything. And you're desperate to hear him speak that sexy accent of his once again.

When you finally arrive home, you let yourself into your apartment and immediately head straight for your bedroom. You shed your clothes as fast as possible, trying to rid your entire day from your skin. After your shower, you pull on a pair of shorts, your favorite oversized t shirt before padding barefoot across the carpeted floor of your room.

Just as you're opening your bedroom door to get a snack, your phone rings. You glance at your screen - a number with no name showing up - before answering the call, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Hello?”

You can hear a woman's voice in the background, "I told you not to come in my office. You can't just call random clients." Then you hear a muffled males voice and the woman again. "Yes... I understand she hasnt paid, but we don't contact clients until the end of the month."

You sit there unsure of what to do, should you say something? Should you hang up? Should you ignore her? Suddenly, you hear yelling. "Out - now!" she exclaims before apologizing for the misunderstanding and hanging up the phone on you. As you hang up the phone, you can't help but feel a sense of confusion and disappointment wash over you. You had been hoping that it was Joel on the other end of the line and that he was calling to follow up on his earlier proposition. But instead, it seems like you were caught in the middle of a heated exchange between a man and a woman, and you can't help but wonder what it all means.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You know that you can't let yourself get too caught up in the idea of Joel. You need to focus on yourself and your own needs rather than getting swept up in the allure of a man you barely know. You've got plenty of people who love you, and it's better to prioritize your relationships than get carried away with a man like Joel. You know you wouldn't be able to handle it.

But then suddenly here you are. You take a deep breath and steel yourself as you walk back into the garage, hoping to catch Joel before he leaves for the day. The receptionist gives you a disapproving look as you enter, but you ignore her and make your way towards Joel, who has just finished up with a customer. As you approach, Joel looks up and sees you, a small smile spreading across his face. "Hey there, sweetheart," he says, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I, uh, I had some questions about my car," you say, trying to sound casual. "I figured I'd come down and ask you in person."

Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. Instead, he nods towards the back of the garage, inviting you to follow him. As you walk, you can't help but notice the way his muscles ripple under his shirt or the way his jeans hug his hips. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and you hope he doesn't notice.

Once you're in the back, Joel crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with a serious expression. "Listen, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and intense. "I know what you're doing, and I want you to know that it's not going to work."

You furrow your brow, confused. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

Joel takes a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I mean that I know you're trying to avoid what's going on between us," he says, his voice softening. "And I get it. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around." You open your mouth to protest, but Joel holds up a hand to stop you. "But I also know that there's something between us, something real and intense," he continues. "And I don't want to ignore it anymore."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "What are you saying?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel takes another step closer to you, his body almost touching yours. "I'm saying that I want you, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I want to make you feel good, to show you things you've never experienced before."

Your mind is racing as you try to process what Joel is saying. On one hand, you're terrified of the intensity of your feelings for him so soon, of the way he makes your heart race and your skin tingle. On the other hand, you can't deny the attraction you feel towards him, the way your body responds to his voice alone.

As you stand there, frozen, Joel reaches out and gently takes your hand in his. "It's okay, darlin," he says, his voice soft and reassuring.

You know that you have a choice to make, a decision to make about what you want and what you're ready for. And as you stand there, looking into Joel's beautiful brown eyes, you know that you're ready. Without saying a word, you lean in and press your lips to Joel's, feeling the heat and passion of his kiss. Joel responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You can feel the strength and power of his body. As Joel deepens the kiss, he reaches down and gently lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you over to a nearby workbench. He sets you down gently, cupping your face in his hands, "Be right back, sweetheart, don't go anywhere.”

Just as Joel turns to lock up, the receptionist calls out, "Joel, she can't stay here. She's not an employee."

Joel turns to her, his expression stern. "I'll take care of it, Linda," he says. "Just go home."

Linda looks taken aback, but she doesn't argue. She grabs her things and leaves the garage, shooting you a disapproving look as she goes.

Once she's gone and the doors are locked,Joel walks back over to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. He pulls a small joint out of his pocket and holds it up for you to see. "Ever tried this before, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

You shake your head, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "No, I haven't," you admit.

Joel grins, lighting the joint and taking a deep drag. He holds it out to you, his eyes locked on yours. "Here, let me show you," he says.

You lean in, taking a tentative puff on the joint. The smoke is harsh and unfamiliar, but the sensation of Joel's hand on your back, guiding you, is intoxicating. You feel a warm, tingly sensation spreading through your body. He pulls back, his eyes shining with desire as he takes another drag. "You like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to speak. You've never smoked weed before, but with Joel, it feels right. It feels intimate and exciting, like you're sharing a secret that only the two of you know. For a while, the two of you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away, like you're the only two people in the entire world, and it's a feeling you never want to let go of.

But eventually, the joint burns down to nothing, and the two of you are forced to come back to reality. Joel grins, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his lips are soft and gentle, his tongue exploring your mouth as he deepens the kiss. You can feel the warmth of the weed spreading through your body, making you feel relaxed and happy.

As you kiss, Joel's hands roam over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist and the swell of your breasts. You moan softly, your body responding to his touch. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your clit throbbing with desire.

Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "I want you, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and intense. "I want to make you feel good.” You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. You want him too, more than anything. You want to feel his hands on your body, his lips on your skin. You want to feel him inside you, filling you up and making you his.

Joel's fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head. He tosses it aside, his eyes raking over your body. You're wearing a lacy bra, the color of pale pink. Joel's fingers trace the lines of your bra, his touch gentle and teasing. You can feel your nipples hardening under the lace, your body begging for more.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Joel says, his voice low and husky. "I can't wait to taste you." With a quick motion, he removes your bra, throwing it to the floor.

He leans in, his mouth closing over one of your nipples. His tongue flicks at the hard peak, making you gasp with pleasure. Joel's hands roam over your body. He reaches down, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down, his fingers tracing the lines of your lacy panties. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy. Joel's fingers find the edge of your panties, tugging them aside. His fingers trace the outer lips of your pussy, his touch gentle and teasing.

Joel's fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you with ease. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. He starts to move his fingers inside you, faster, his touch more urgent. You can feel the orgasm building inside you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, so fuckin' tight," Joel growls.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Joel's fingers continue to work their magic.

And then, suddenly, you're there.

You cry out as you come, your orgasm ripping through you like wildfire. Joel's fingers continue, drawing out your pleasure until you're left weak and trembling in his arms. “S'okay baby, s'okay, you did so so good for me sweetheart.”

As your orgasm subsides, Joel pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes dark with desire. He licks his fingers clean, his tongue tracing the lines of your juices. You watch him, your mouth parted like you just watched him lick the tastiest ice cream cone.

Joel reaches down, his fingers finding the button of his jeans. He undoes it, tugging his jeans down over his hips. He's not wearing any underwear, and his cock springs free, hard and ready.

You can't help but stare, your eyes wide with desire. Joel's cock is long and thick, the head dark and swollen. You can see a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip, and you can't wait to taste it. Joel steps closer to you, his cock brushing against your thigh. You can feel the heat of it, the hardness. You reach out, your fingers wrapping around the shaft. Joel groans, his head falling back as you start to stroke him. You can feel his body trembling, his cock twitching in your hand. You stroke him faster, your hand moving up and down the shaft. Joel's hands roam over your body. He reaches down, tugging your panties off in one swift motion.

You're completely exposed now, your pussy on full display. Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his cock throbbing in your hand.

"Fuck, you look so hot," Joel growls.

You've never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But with Joel, it feels right. It feels exciting and thrilling, he reaches down, his fingers finding your clit. He starts to rub, his touch gentle and teasing.

"Do you like that, sweetheart?" Joel asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to speak. "You're so fucking hot,," Joel growls. "I can't wait to taste you."

He drops to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. He reaches up, his fingers tracing your inner thighs. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy. Joel's tongue finds your clit, gentle and teasing. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. Joel's tongue moves lower, tracing the outer lips of your pussy. His tongue finds your entrance, pushing inside you. You can feel him exploring his tongue, tracing your walls. Joel's fingers find your clit again, rubbing in time with his tongue.

"Fuck, Joel, m’gonna come," you cry out grabbing onto his hair.

Joel doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing, his eyes don't leave yours, it makes him almost painfully hard watching you come. You cry out as you come. Joel's tongue continues to lick at your pussy, drawing out your pleasure.

"You taste so fucking good, sweetheart," Joel growls, standing up.

He steps closer to you, his cock brushing against your entrance. Joel's hands find your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. "You ready for me sweetheart?

"Yes, please, Joel." He pushes inside you, his cock filling you up completely. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. Joel starts to move, his hips thrusting against you. His cock hits that sweet spot inside of you with every stroke. Joel reaches down, his fingers finding your. You can feel your body trembling, your pleasure building higher and higher.

"Fuck, Joel, I'm gonna come again," you cry out, your voice hoarse with pleasure.

Joel's thrusts become more urgent, his fingers moving faster. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tensing with pleasure until you come again. Joel's thrusts become erratic, his body tensing as he reaches his own release. He groans, his cock twitching inside of you as he fills you with his seed.

The two of you lie there, panting and sated, your bodies still tangled together. Joel's forehead is pressed against yours, his eyes shining with desire and affection. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the beating of his heart against your chest.

"You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You smile, feeling a sense of contentment. But even as those thoughts run through your mind, you also know that you can't let yourself get carried away. You barely know Joel, and there are things about him that you don't know. Important things.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you know you have to do. "Joel, I... I need to go," you say, your voice soft but firm.

Joel's expression changes, a hint of sadness and disappointment flashing in his eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice soft.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Suddenly, the walls feel like they're closing in on you, and you can't catch your breath. "I-I can't breathe," you manage to say, your voice shaking.

Joel's face falls, and he pulls you into a tight embrace. "It's okay, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "Just breathe with me, in and out. You're safe, I've got you."

You focus on Joel's voice, trying to match your breathing to his. Slowly, the panic begins to recede, and you can feel your heart rate returning to normal. "I'm so sorry," you say, your voice still shaking. "I don't know what came over me."

Joel shushes you, his hand tracing circles on your back. "It's okay," he says. "You don't have to apologize. You've been through a lot today. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."

You nod, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You wanted to be strong, to be brave, but instead, you fell apart.

Joel must sense your embarrassment because he pulls back and looks at you with a serious expression. "Hey, listen to me," he says, his voice firm. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're allowed to feel however you feel, and I'm here, no matter what. Okay?"

You nod, feeling a sense of gratitude towards Joel. He's been so kind and understanding, even for someone who knows nothing about you and you can't help but feel drawn to him.

"Come on, sweetheart," Joel says, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here and into some fresh air. How about we go to my place and spend the night? I promise, no funny business."

You know it sounds crazy but a sense of relief washes over you as you agree. You don't want to be alone right now, and the thought of spending the night with Joel is weirdly comforting. As much as you know, you should probably just go home. Joel helps you get dressed, his hands gentle and reassuring. Once you're both dressed, he leads you outside and into his truck. He drives you to his house, his hand resting on yours the entire time. When you arrive, Joel leads you inside and shows you to his bedroom. He pulls back the covers and helps you climb into bed, tucking you in like a child. "Just rest, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft. "I'll be right back."

You nod, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over you. Joel returns a few minutes later with a glass of water. He helps you sit up and take a sip of water, then lays down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It's soothing, and you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep.

"Thank you, Joel," you murmur, your voice sleepy.

Joel kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "Anytime, sweetheart," he says. "I'm always here for you."

As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Joel. He's been so kind and understanding. For the first time in a long time, you feel safe, and you know that everything is going to be okay.

As you sleep, Joel watches over you, his eyes full of affection and concern. He's fallen for you, hard.

As the night wears on, Joel holds you close, his arms wrapped around you. He knows that you're not ready for anything serious, and he's okay with that. For now, he's just happy to be with you, to be there for you, to comfort you, and to make you happy.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #dom!joel miller #mechanic!joe miller #joel miller fluff

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assassinsblade · 4 months

Text

Forget Me Not | 6

You are awaiting Azriel's return when chaos erupts.

WC: 6.4k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Violence, death, blood, angst, feelings, and dare I finally say some fluff?

a/n: There will be one more part!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

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Azriel never responded to your letter. You hadn't exactly expected him to, but you still couldn't help the pang of disappointment that settled in your gut when day after day went by in silence.

You hoped he was getting the healing he needed, the healing he deserved. The thought of your friend hurting because of your words had you itching to write another letter to him, but you knew to give him the time and space to map his feelings out. It would be better to say all you needed to in person anyway.

That didn't stop your heart from wandering each day though. You thought of his scarred hands and gentle touches. The way he had always been soft with you, as if he were nervous you would think him anything other than kind-hearted. The way his fingers would brush against the fabric of your shirt when passing by, letting you know he was there, letting you feel his presence, take in his scent, as he moved in your space.

You thought about the small smile he would give you during conversations both before and after the incident. The way his head would tip forward to show he was listening, the way his eyes twinkled with amusement at your storytelling, the curve of his lips as others laughed.

You thought of the times he had carried you to your room when you had fallen asleep on the couch, his comforting arms, his protective instinct as he locked your windows and pulled the covers over your chest and toes.

You thought of the heat that would rise to his cheeks when people would compliment him. The way the pink would dust his cheeks like a guide for your lipstick, his eyes averted and the subject quickly changed despite the passion he put into each and every one of his interests and talents.

You thought about his commitment and duty and strength. The way he held the weight of the entire court on his shoulders but still managed to make others laugh. The way he would suffer in silence, do the dirty work, but pretend like it was nothing to alleviate others' stress.

You thought about every bit of him, from the glow that surrounded his black hair against the backdrop of the sun to the way the grass curled around his feet, and you loved him with a fierceness that ached.

And you tried -- you tried so fucking hard -- to distract yourself from these thoughts in the days after you sent your letter.

You began training with Cassian again. He hadn't said anything despite how obvious your swollen and bloodshot eyes were, how your shoulders hung low with fatigue, the way your clothes were wrinkled against your thinning form.

He had given you kind eyes, though, and a soft smile that told you he was there should you need it. He often snuck bars of food into your training bag or left an "extra" tea out on the counter for you. You had even noticed him peeking his head into Azriel's room a few times at night to check on you, remaining quiet to not disturb your feigned sleep.

It wasn't until a week after Azriel had left that Cassian mentioned him again. You were strapping the weapons you had brought with you to training back in place when you felt his eyes on you. It was nearing eleven at night, and your entire body felt like it was going to fall to the floor underneath you. Your skin was slick with sweat, muscles burning, and your eyes felt (accurately) like your sleep had been fitful as of late.

Cassian was quiet until you finally met his eye and raised a brow, prompting him to break his silence. He nodded to the dagger strapped against your thigh. "I'm surprised Azriel has been letting you use that."

You looked at the dagger you had been using nightly when training, taking in its intimidating design and shrugging. "He didn't protest much. It's not Truthteller."

The dagger, in truth, had been helpful. Cassian not only helped you learn how to handle such a weapon better, but he did so in a safe space that allowed you to overcome any memories from that night surfacing. There were times when your movements and grip on the handle felt so similar to that cold moment in the alley, you would nearly throw the dagger from your hand in haste. But you were making progress, and those moments when blood tainted your vision were becoming few and far between.

Cassian continued moving throughout the space, putting equipment away and packing away his things. You could tell he was feigning being nonchalant from the way his hands fumbled and his eyes strayed away from your own.

"Truthteller isn't the only weapon Azriel has a special attachment to."

Your brows furrowed with confusion and curiosity. As much as you had come to care for Azriel, there were parts of his past he had always kept private. You knew some details regarding his history and what had made him into the male he was, but he rarely spoke to you about them.

He liked to portray the side of himself he could control, the side the victims of the Night Court did not get to see: his gentleness, his care for his family, his ability to bring joy to others. Never the past that haunts him or his actions that remind him of the evil in the world.

"Are you going to explain?" You decided on asking, mind already beginning to spin with thoughts of Azriel.

You were too tired for his vague comments, and really you just wanted to shower and curl back up in Azriel's bed. It was beginning to lose some of his scent and take on your own. You didn't know how low you would have to feel before you started digging through his closet and drawers for clothes of his wear and curl up in instead.

"Just-" he sighed, placing his towel in his bag. "That weapon holds a lot of weight to him. It's the one that was used against his brothers." His voice trailed off at the end with the secret.

His brothers. The males who had set fire to his hands. The males who had laughed as he screamed, who had treated him like a test subject, like less than an animal. The males who had enjoyed watching a young boy cry in pain, terror, fear, and confusion.

You swallowed back the horrid thoughts pushing their way into your mind. Flames licking up his scars, his hazel eyes drowning in tears. "He didn't tell me its history."

Cassian shrugged, turning to face you and crossing his arms over his chest. He was studying you. What for, you didn't know. "He just normally doesn't let that dagger out of his room. I've only ever seen it on him a few times."

Did Azriel give the weapon to you for the same reason he yielded it against his brothers? You remembered the placement of the dagger in your palms in his bedroom, the way the sharp edge faced his unguarded torso, as if he was standing at your mercy and vengeance, positioning his heart to be a target for your own pain.

Maybe he had seen your lashing out as inevitable, and he knew the very dagger he had used against his own brothers could also help you deal an angry blow in return. Did he know the dagger was going to be aimed at him eventually? Did he offer it, expecting that result?

You remembered the blood that fell from his bicep earlier this week.

"I noticed you've been sleeping in his room."

Cassian's voice was gentler this time as he interrupted your distracted thoughts, as if he was afraid his acknowledgement of what he had seen would spook you, cause you to shut down or leave. Instead, you just shifted your weight on your feet, trying to not look too embarrassed.

"Yeah. I don't know, it just seems to help. With the nightmares and stuff, I mean."

He continued to study you, and you felt yourself getting slightly uncomfortable and annoyed. He was obviously thinking something but was unwilling to say it, and you didn't exactly appreciate his quiet observations as if you were some sort of mystery or experiment to document hypotheses on.

"Just say it," you rolled your eyes.

"No."

"No?"

He gave you a half-smile, slinging his bag over his broad shoulder and taking a step toward the exit. "Some things aren't my place."

"Since when do you stay out of people's business, Cassian?" You scoffed.

"Since my brother-" He started, but suddenly his steps halted, body going rigid with tension. His eyes scanned the space rapidly, and within a moment his bag was dropped back onto the ground by his feet, and he was taking a step back toward you, eyes still tracking your dark surroundings.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his serious behavior. "Cassian, what is it?"

But he didn't respond. Instead, one of his hands reached for the knife on his belt, his other arm splaying out in front of you to get you to move back with him.

You followed his movements, stepping in tandem with him until you found yourself in the middle of the training ring once again. A breeze flowed up your arms and caressed the skin of your cheeks, causing shivers to run down your body and your hair to stand on edge.

Footsteps sounded from your right, and you whirled around in fear, gripping the dagger Azriel had given you with a tightness that hurt your knuckles. A shadowed figure was approaching, followed by four others. But you didn't have time to think of an approach before more footsteps sounded to your back and more appeared, their wings fading into the black sky behind them.

They were coming from all directions, all Illyrian males, all Illyrian warriors. Swords and shields glinted in the moonlight. Teeth sharp as they sneered.

"Cassian-" you whispered harshly.

"Gentlemen," Cassian interrupted, voice tight warning. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

There were about fifty of them, all nearly double your size. Illyrian males were already prone to being larger, all over six feet in height with intimidating wingspans and muscles, and for once you didn't feel safe around the form you so often associated with Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. Your fingers trembled.

Cassian still told taller than all of them, the general a fierce presence surrounded by enemies. He looked determined, but he did not look scared.

One of the males stepped forward from the crowd.

"My son was one of the many who died in the war with Hybern. One of the many who died because of you. Because of your half-breed high lord and his past-time of playing house with bastards." He looked to his companions standing in the shadows. "You all come here and condemn our way of life, of training, of breeding, and then punish us on the battlefield. We're not fighting for you anymore. We're fighting for ourselves."

You felt like you were in a fever dream. You hadn't even been in Velaris for that long, had never been around during the war nor seen the aftermath of the choices made. But you knew of Cassian and Azriel's power in the Illyrian war camps. You knew how Rhys tried to ban wing clipping, how they all enforced treating the females equally and fair, how the males were discriminatory toward others and often rageful and violent.

You wanted no part of this.

"No one is forcing you to fight on the front line." Cassian responded, barely flinching at the man's short speech. He was completely and utterly still, gauging each movement around the two of you. He was a strategist, and you could sense the gears in his mind turning.

"Maybe we want to fight. Maybe we are here to demand our rights back. Our superiority."

Cassian's hands twitched, his siphons gleaming. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His cold voice was nothing like the jovial male you had come to know. This was the Lord of Bloodshed ready to split the males in front of him in half, a warrior basking in the calm before blood would rain down around him.

"And why not?" The male laughed. "It is only you here. You and this pet. When we are done with you, we will go for that bastard shadowsinger. How do you think almighty Rhysand will feel about that? Both of his brothers put down like mutts? Think he will be willing to listen then?"

Rage swarmed in your veins, warming your skin until you felt your cheeks and ears turn red with heat. They would not touch you. They would not touch Cassian, and they sure as hell would not touch Azriel.

Cassian sighed, as if he were experiencing only a slight inconvenience. As if he had just been interrupted from a nap with a chore he couldn't put off any longer.

"Alright," is all he said, and then his strong arm was pushing you back and out of harms way, the harsh sound of weapons clashing ringing in your ears.

You spun quickly, trying to take in the chaotic space around you. Males were moving in all directions, and before you could think, you were throwing your dagger at the closest body you could find. The edge hacked into the center of his pale forehead, his body crumpling to the ground immediately.

Dodging another male grasping at you, you slid on your knees to collect your weapon, gathering up the fallen male's sword at the same time. It was heavy in your grip, but it was better than only having one weapon to arm yourself with.

"Come here, birdy." A voice cooed.

You vaguely registered red light flashing in the corner of your eye, the color flickering and absorbing in the sky. It lit up the armor of the Illyrians, and despite the pounding heart in your chest, despite not knowing if you would survive tonight, you found the sight beautiful.

You faced the male, his rotten teeth dirtying his smirk as he took you in. A few others joined him, forming a line in front of you. Raising the sword in your grasp, you held your chin up.

"Don't call me that."

They took their time observing you, as if you were a mouse in their game -- a treat they had hoped would be present at their meeting.

"Bad timing, girl. We don't have to hurt ya, though. Why don't you just come with us, yeah?"

The male to his left winked at you, and you felt your palms become damp with sweat. No, you would not be doing this again. You would not allow another male to put his hands on you again.

"I'd rather the Cauldron boil me alive."

And then you were swinging, the sword coming down with a mighty clang against the male's own. The resistance reverberated up your arm, through your bones, and you gritted your teeth at the pain. But you pushed forward, attempting to unbalance him with your steady stance.

The male to his right went in with a knife of his own, and you ducked out of the way, instead swinging low with your sword and slicing the legs of the male you had been up against. He cried out in anger and pain, and you couldn't help the smile that creeped onto your face at the noise. You wanted him to choke on that pain, on those cries.

As he fell and gripped his calves, you quickly made work of his throat, slashing through the skin in a swift movement, barely even taking the time to think before you flung the dagger with your other hand into the male to your right, the tip latching into his neck.

The last male roared, pushing you off your balance until you tripped and had to steady yourself, your sword pointed toward the ground.

He swung with his own, point aimed toward your chest, and you hurried to block the action. You had no armor to defend yourself, just your brief training and your will to live.

The male kept swinging, his strength and weight being thrown into each movement, pushing you back farther and farther. Each block you threw up only dug your feet deeper into the ground, only destabilized you, only made your arms sting with fatigue.

You were panting, grunting, trying to hold your own.

And then the male was half exploding away from you. Red light and energy threw his body from yours, sending him spiraling to the ground feet away. His armor looked melted, and you could only allow yourself a brief moment of relief before you searched for Cassian.

He was still fighting the other males. Plenty of other males, as the majority went straight for their target rather than you. Red surrounded him, his sword sparkling, dark hair gracefully blowing with each jab. He didn't even look winded. There were twenty males surrounding him, and about the same amount scattered on the ground limp and bloodied.

His movements were clean and precise. As if he were made to do this, his body glided in a beautiful dance that left males to drop before him. If blood had not been coating your vision, it would almost seem as if they were dropping to their knees in reverence.

You shook yourself out of your stupor, hefting up the sword and your dagger and moving forward again into the action.

You were steps away from another Illyrian, his brown eyes locking on your own, when blue blinded your vision.

Like lightning rocking the ground underneath you, a beam of cobalt shot from the sky, sending the earth trembling under your feet. The noise roared in your ears as you tried to keep your footing, blinking away from the bright light.

Your veins hummed, your skin tingled.

Because coming out of that bright blue light, eyes glowing like a god, was Azriel.

His wings were flared, taking up as much space as three Illyrians as he marched toward them, his towering form enough to make you want to fall to your knees in worship.

Light shone on his face, cutting his sharp cheekbones with the blue of his siphons. He looked angelic, and beautiful, and like the savior you dreamed about.

Your chest pulled you toward him, but your movements were halted by cold tendrils snaking around your wrists, pulling you backward.

You almost shouted, but then you realized as a grunt sounded in your ear what was happening. Azriel's shadows were back. They were back by your side and they were helping you. You could have wept with joy feeling the silky bands kissing your skin.

They pulled you out of the way of one of the Illyrians, his punch missing your head as you dodged. You didn't even have time to plunge the dagger toward his eye before the shadows were swarming the male, flowing into his nostrils, ears, mouth and eyes, until blood was flowing out of them, jaw hanging open and body going limp.

You gasped in shock as the male fell to your feet, choking and suffocating on his own internal bodily matter.

Trying not to gag, you pulled your gaze up to Cassian and Azriel fighting back to back. Flashes of red and blue lit up the sky, and you went to move closer, but the shadows held you back. They swarmed your ankles, your calves, and held you in place. Some lingering shadows skimmed the rest of your body, searching the open skin for wounds.

When the last of the males fell, the shadows released you, and you stumbled at the sudden freedom.

Then you were rushing toward your friends, sword falling from your fingertips to lay with the dead bodies in your haste. Cassian and Azriel were talking, but Azriel's body was turned toward you as if he was paying attention to you both at once -- and you supposed he was, what with his shadows monitoring your every movement and breath.

But then he couldn't focus on Cassian, couldn't say anything else, because you wouldn't let him. You didn't care if he shoved you off of him, you didn't care if he took both of your shoulders in his scarred hands and threw you to the ground, not as you flung yourself into his torso, the wind knocked out of your lungs with the force.

He caught himself with one step back, his arms going to catch you against him despite his shock. His body was tense with surprise, but you didn't care, not as you grasped his leathers, not as you breathed in the smell of him, not as you basked in the fact that Azriel was back after you were scared he would never see or talk to you again.

Your breath was shaky as you listened to his heartbeat underneath your ear. His arms tightened around you, and you felt as seconds ticked by before gentle fingers tangled in your hair hesitantly.

Still, he did not say a word.

You would take this moment, savor it, knowing it could be your last chance at any kind of intimacy, at any kind of care and love with Azriel before everything came crashing down again, before reality and all you had both said and done disrupted what could have been.

You could hear Cassian’s footsteps fading in the distance, but the sound was muffled as you attempted to get closer to the shadowsinger, gripping him tighter, burying your face deeper into his hard strong chest.

He was so warm against you, and the contrast of that heat against the cool shadows weaving around you had you nearly gasping.

Tears were in your eyes before you could control your emotions, knowing how embarrassing this was. You had pushed him away for months, made him crawl for your forgiveness, but as soon as you were the one to make a mistake, you couldn’t handle it. You were just so glad he was home. So glad he was here in front of you so you could apologize, and feel whole again with him near. You hadn’t realized how empty you felt with him gone-

“Are you okay?” His rough voice cracked above you, barely audible above the wind.

You nodded against him, trying to compose your feelings before reluctantly releasing him and taking a step back. His fingers trailed after you as if by instinct, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to distract yourself from touching him once again.

“I’m okay,” you reiterated, hands tangling together in nerves. He looked you up and down, brows furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you, as if he needed to give you a thorough inspection. “Are you?”

“Fine,” he quietly spoke. And you could tell that he was. He didn’t even look like he broke a sweat going up against the remaining Illyrians, which made your worry for him even more embarrassing.

“I didn’t…” you swallowed, sorting through your jumbled thoughts. “What are you doing back?”

His gaze was soft but guarded. Your heart thumped in your chest painfully at the contrast to how he looked at you just a week or two ago. You had hurt him enough for those walls to go back up, and you also couldn’t ignore the hurt you had felt (even if you were trying your hardest to forget it).

Instead of answering your question, Azriel said, “We should talk. After I check in with Rhys.”

“Right.” You nodded, rubbing your palms on your pants, the fabric clinging to your thighs. “That’s probably more important.”

Azriel just looked at you though before muttering, “Not more important.”

You hated the tension, the uncertainty, and if not for the adrenaline in your veins, you were sure you would have started crying again.

“I’ll come find you after.”

You nodded, and he gave you a short one in return, sending his shadows to stay with your form once again. They twirled around you, as if to make up for their master’s lack of visible excitement, and you tried to let them warm the anxiety overwhelming you.

And then he was winnowing you back to the House of Wind, only allowing the darkness to envelop him again once you were secure behind its wards.

-------------------------------------

You waited for Azriel all night.

The clock ticking on your wall seemed to mock you, and you wondered if he was already in his room hiding from you, or if he had decided to not return to you to talk after all.

You wouldn’t blame him for changing his mind, but the thought still caused your heart to twist in your chest. You had so much to say, so much to just let out into the open, that if he ended up not wanting to talk, you thought it would probably end up weighing you down to your grave.

Sighing, you wrapped a blanket around your bare shoulders to shield your nightgown-clad form from the cold, stepping out onto one of the balconies at the House of Wind. You couldn’t go lay in Azriel’s room, and you weren’t going to be able to rest in your own. So, you sat along the edge of the balcony, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping the blanket tight as could be around you.

Shadows rested on your shoulders and by your hips, silently keeping watch around you. Their presence was calming as you looked over the night sky.

You remembered sitting in this exact spot months before, smiling to yourself as you compared your life in the Hewn City to where you had come here in Velaris. So much had changed then, and even more now.

You missed the ease of being around your friends and around Azriel. And it frustrated you, because you knew you would be happier with him around again, but you didn’t know what was right to do. What was correct?

Your heart ached for him even more now than it did months ago, as if a tether was pulling you to him, begging you to become one as it was always meant to be. And you knew that feeling of completion in your soul would finally come when you two could move forward again, but you didn’t even know what that meant, if it was possible, if he’d want that-

“You’re going to catch your death out here.”

Your head whipped around so quickly at his voice, you were surprised he didn’t laugh.

“Azriel,” you breathed.

“Why don’t we go inside?” He nodded to your bundled up form. He made no move to help you stand, instead keeping his hands shoved into his pockets, body held tight with tension.

You stood in a hurry, clutching the blanket to your shivering form before making your way over to his tall frame and past the open door.

He followed you quietly as you sat down on one of the couches, shutting the door behind you two. He didn’t immediately take a seat, instead watching as you got comfortable (as comfortable as you could be with all of the anxiety coursing through you), before walking around one of the chairs and lowering himself down into it. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, scarred hands clasped together and holding his attention.

He seemed much more unaffected than you. But you both had been affected by what had happened to you for months, and you understood he was probably exhausted, probably done putting energy into this situation, into you.

“I have so much I need to say.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice came out so insecure.

He only looked at you expectantly — not cold nor mean, but open and listening, his hazel eyes nonjudgemental.

“I want to tell you everything,” you started. “From before that night to what happened and how I was feeling after. But please, Azriel, please know I will never forgive myself for the words I spoke to you last week. I am so sorry. So so sorry. I meant none if it.”

Your voice shook with your tears, and you immediately wiped them away before they became too obvious to the spy.

He was silent, and you felt that thing in your chest crack further.

“You are the most honorable and lovable person I have ever known. Any words indicating otherwise were spoken from a place of hurt and anger and are completely untrue. You give your safety up daily to protect others, you have done nothing but try to make life better for those that you can. You have a good heart and a kind soul, and you are a way better person than the world deserves — than I deserve.”

Azriel shook his head at your words. “You deserved more than what happened to you. Than what I did.”

“I think we both made mistakes.”

His silence unnerved you, and you found yourself scrambling. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, if you don’t want to be around me anymore. I can find another place to live in Velaris… or I can go back to the Hewn City-”

“Hewn City?”

“This is your home— has always been your home. I’ve only been here recently. I can go wherever you need me to.”

“I want you to stay here.”

Your eyes met his hazel ones, and you could see a crack in the walls he had built up, the panic and emotion seeping through.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you left.” The words came out like a confession, like he hadn’t actually intended you hear them.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you admitted. “I hate this.”

“I do, too.”

Your fingers gripped the blanket tighter around you, pulling it until it held you with makeshift protection.

“I had never been more afraid than I was that night,” you told him, not able to quite make eye contact while talking about this. “But it was worse because it was you who forgot me, who didn’t think of me.”

He flinched at your words, and you hurried to explain.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, Azriel. I put expectations onto you that you didn’t even know were there. It was unfair of me to put myself above Elain, to demand your protection and your thoughts as if I was entitled to them.”

“You are entitled to them,” he said forcefully, pulling your eyes up to his own.

You shook your head, giving him a sad smile. “I know you care about me. You’re a loving person. But that doesn’t mean I can punish you for not loving me as much as I wish.”

“Stop, please.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if he was in physical pain.

You waited for him to collect himself, to sort through his thoughts and emotions. His jaw was clenched, his fingers trembling, and you found comfort in the evidence that you weren’t the only one feeling nervous and uncertain.

“I never want to hear you excuse what I did that night again. Do you understand?”

He took a deep breath at your silence before continuing. “You are not someone to be forgotten, to be left behind. I will do everything in my power to convince you of that until I am dust to this planet.”

Your eyes watered with his words, but you let him keep going, getting the words off his chest.

“And you are entitled to my protection and thoughts. You are entitled to every part of me. You are my mate, and I will thank the Cauldron every day for blessing me with you even if you do not return the sentiment nor want to act on it any longer.”

Mate.

He was your mate.

Holy gods.

You thought of the pull you always felt toward the shadowsinger, the comfort you felt in his arms, the soothing scent of his sheets and clothes. You thought of the way he always seemed to know what you needed, how you were hyperaware of his presence and touch, the feeling of incompletion when he was away.

“Azriel…”

“I’m not sure where we go from here. I know that I will beg for you, on my hands and knees, daily for the rest of my life. I know that I will do what I can to help you through any trauma I caused, to earn your trust back. I know that I have fallen in love with you in the past few months, even before that without realizing. But I also know that I have done you wrong, and that I cannot change the past nor the hurt you endured.”

Your lips trembled, and you tried your hardest to keep looking into his hazel eyes, but you could feel it. The bond, the pain centered in both your chest and his own. The love and care he felt traveling into you, lighting that hallow space up and filling it until you felt him.

“Will you forgive me for the terrible things I said?” You asked, matching his own vulnerability. “Will you allow me to convince you of your worth and heart?”

Something sparked in your chest at the words, and his hopeful brown green eyes met your own.

“You’re already forgiven.”

You could barely hold in a sob at his words, and then he was slowly moving toward you. He let you see each of his actions, as if he expected you to shove him away, to have him give you space like you had the last two months.

But as soon as his hands brushed back the hair from your face, cupping your jaw, you were lunging toward him. Your arms encircled his neck, gripping tight tight tight, bringing him as close to your body as you could. His hand cradled the back of your head to his neck, his own nose nuzzling into the side of you.

You could feel his tears wetting your skin, and you knew he could feel your own cries against him, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to think about any more pain right now. Not about what happened months ago, not about what you said last week, not about Azriel’s week-long absence or the Illyrian revolt. All you could think about were his hands holding you.

“I love you,” you spoke into his neck. “I’ve always loved you.”

His fingers gripped you tighter, to the point of near bruising. And then he pulled back.

His lips brushed against your forehead, the soft gesture bringing more tears to your eyes.

“When I felt that fear go across the bond tonight, even through the walls I had put up, I thought I would be coming home to Cassian carrying you into this room bloody again. I thought I would be too late, again.”

But he had come for you. Even after everything you had thrown at him, he had been willing to put himself on the line for you and was still ready for your rejection.

You shook your head at him, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “I held my own pretty well actually.”

His eyes gleamed through the haunted look he had, a light of praise shining through, and then they were dropping to look at your lips.

Your skin warmed at the action, your mouth parting instinctually. His thumb brushed your bottom lip in admiration before his eyes moved back up to your own.

“We still have a lot to discuss.” His voice was quiet but rough, and you nearly clenched your thighs together at the sound.

He must have felt your body heat rising, the way you were tempted to squirm into his lap, to lean forward just a bit more, because his pupils dilated and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“We have all the time now, right?” You asked hesitantly, his lips drawing you in as if you were in a trance. “And it’s late. It might be better to talk more once we get some rest.”

“Rest.” He repeated, his tongue testing out the word.

“I’ve been sleeping in your room,” you admitted, flushing with embarrassment. “Maybe we can both stay there tonight.”

“I’ll do anything you want.”

And you could hear the truth in the words, the desperation and vulnerability. If you told him to drop to his knees in front of you, he would do it. He would kiss the ground you walked on and look at you reverently while doing so.

So you led him to stand with you, dropping the blanket from your shoulders to fall back onto the couch, and grasped his hand with your own.

His eyes took in the light fabric hugging your body, and you watched them darken, his lashes fluttering and tongue wetting his lips.

“I want you,” you said.

The words were not necessarily ones of lust, but they were fueled in desire, in love and fire that had been suffocated for months. Letting them fall from your lips felt as cathartic as screaming.

“You have me,” Azriel said in return, his hand cupping your lower back and pulling you against him.

His body lined up with your own, but it wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to feel inside of him, you wanted to pull on that bond until it glowed a blinding gold across your vision. You wanted to feel his skin everywhere, curl your fingers into his hair, and tell him everything you had ever thought about him.

You have me too, you wanted to tell him. So take me.

And as his feet slowly started moving you both back toward his room, your heart skipped in your chest. His answering smile at the feeling had heat rising to your cheeks and an embarrassed giggle erupting.

Take me, you thought again. Make me yours.

He scooped you up into his arms and your mind emptied. No more pain, no more confusion, just you and Azriel and the thrum of love in your chest.

You have me. I’m yours.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel angst

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darlingdekarios · 1 year

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hibernate.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 6,152 content: Arthur Morgan x f!reader, animal hunting mentions, cannon-accurate outlaw behavior, cowboy meet cute, Arthur Morgan is a simp, snowed in, fluff, smut [v fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], kink(s) [spit as lube]

it was like fate insisted on the two of you colliding.

The first time you’d met Arthur Morgan was a lovely March night in New Hanover, opportunities abound as the hustle and bustle of life was at its highest point of the year, the weather the most tolerable for moving about. Returning from an evening of fishing now that the water wasn’t frozen in some areas and sketching birds by the river when he stumbled across a lone figure boarding train – well after midnight. He followed on horseback under the cover of trees in anticipation, joined by your own horse shortly after. He followed alongside with a hold of the strange horse’s reins until the train came to a stop.

He'd strained to hear you, considered boarding after you to clean up any straggling guards – it wasn’t his business, so he didn’t – but curiosity held him close. When the sound of police approaching quickly began you emerged to the top of the train, looking around desperately for your horse. Temporarily frozen when the moonlight caught your face and confirmed to the man that you were a woman, he recovered just in time to spring into action.

It had been Arthur who had led your horse to you and instructed you to follow. It was Arthur’s path that led you away from the law and eventually far enough away to be free of their hunting.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, lady?” he questioned when the two of you slowed side-by-side under the cover of thick trees, his face hard-set and stern. “You coulda gotten yourself tossed away for a long time back there.”

“I didn’t, though,” you laughed, and despite the feeling that burned in him that he couldn’t quite place as anger or worry Arthur’s stomach flipped at the sound and the way your laugh reached your eyes. You adjusted your hat with a playful smile on your lips, keeping the reins to your horse in one hand.

“Thanks to me,” he asserted, the stress causing him to light up a cigarette and adjust his hat. His eyes caught your gaze and you held it, appreciating his handsome features for a moment as your smile twisted wider.

“I would’ve figured it out, cowboy – you can be sure of that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve seen your face on ‘wanted’ posters, Mr. Morgan,” you proclaimed, tone proud as you called him on his identity. He took another drag from his cigarette before leaning forward comfortably in his saddle, outstretching a hand toward you.

“Arthur,” he offered, amusement flashing across his features when you shook his hand firmly. “And I’ve seen yours, too. What is it they call you…?”

“The Panther,” you replied, that proud tone ever-present in your voice. “A nice tribute to my best hunt.”

His poker face was too well-trained to reveal that he was impressed – that he was intrigued.

“Well next time you go thinkin’ of doing something so goddamn stupid like rob a train at midnight alone,” he began, gruff voice filled with frustration as he attempted to present his unamused façade. “You could invoke that particular nickname and be a little more subtle.”

The second time was just as circumstantial. It was July – the heat sweltering, the air sticky, the fireflies sparkling in fields at night. You’d been riding for days, hunting gators in the swamps for weeks and now headed back to a more familiar area where you felt more at home. Just past Emerald Ranch you’d spotted him on the road ahead – his hat unmistakable and burned into your mind, his horse giving away his identity to anyone who knew it.

There was no questioning if he’d want your company – you didn’t even give it a thought. Instead, you’d hastened your own horse to catch up with him.

“Where ya headed, cowboy?” you questioned as you approached from behind, adjusting your hat back on your head to offer more of your face to him. Your voice immediately sent a shiver down his spine, the barely-there smile crossing his features unmissed by you.

Four months trying to remember your face and voice hadn’t done it any justice.

“Valentine,” he replied, slowing his horse’s stride to match yours. The two of you set a lazy pace, in no real hurry to get anywhere. “You following me now, cat?”

“Like I ain’t got better things to do, Mr. Morgan?” you joked, nose scrunching as you smiled. The Summer sun had done beautiful things for your color, he noted. “Give you $50 and shine your guns if you can beat me there.”

“Are you tryin’ to race me?” he questioned with a subtle laugh, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Won’t be much of a race, cowboy.”

He let out a real, genuine, albeit short laugh at that. The sound filled the air around you, made birds vacate trees. Your heart soared away alongside them.

“And what is it you want if you win?”

“A nice bottle of whisky,” you replied after a brief moment of thought, reaching your hand to rub your horse’s neck gently. Arthur had forgotten how gentle your hands were with everything they touched – the rediscovery lighting up his mind. “And a hot meal at your camp.”

“Can’t promise the gang’ll let you eat at camp without drinking, too.”

“Which is why I asked for a bottle of whisky,” you remarked, that shit-eating grin he was starting to love spreading on your face again. “Do we have a deal?”

“Hope your horse is fast enough to back up that mouth of yours,” he quipped back, intentionally antagonizing you as he started to pick up the speed slightly. “Or that you’ve got plenty of gun oil.”

You shot forward then, the dust of the road kicking up behind you as you left Arthur behind on a road you both knew well. In reality he could’ve caught you – could’ve even won if he’d pushed his horse hard enough – but the sound of your laughter in the cool evening air was reason enough to lose.

It wasn’t a surprise when you crossed over into the town first.

“You cheated,” he argued as he approached, allowing his horse to slow to a reasonable speed for being around other people. “Got a head start. Doesn’t count.”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, reaching up to remove his hat to resituate his wind-blown hair. You were momentarily transfixed on his fingers running through the strands that looked soft – maybe in need of a wash but soft nonetheless – but quickly wished he’d left it messy. “Weren’t mean you didn’t get a head start, cat.”

“Oh, like a couple steps mattered,” you entered an easy banter with him, just like the two of you had done in the Spring. He’d missed it – hadn’t realized how much he had until then. “Coulda given you a five-minute head start and still would’ve beat you and that slowpoke horse you ride.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re difficult?”

“Heard it a couple times,” there was that smile again – the nose crinkling one. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep his thoughts to himself with you smiling that way – at him. You jumped down from your stallion and hitched him with ease, feeding the massive animal a small snack in appreciation of his efforts. “I can compromise. I buy the whisky, but I still get a hot meal at your camp.”

He pondered your proposal only briefly before nodding, letting out an affirmative huff in agreeance. “I’ll meet you at the butcher when you’re done.”

You gave your horse a gentle pat and nodded, turning back to meet his gaze. “Sell that fox pelt I have up on Scratch, will ya?”

Easy. Simple. Honest. Sensible. Arthur loved having you around camp that night – and the night after when you’d been convinced to stay again by the women – though it was hardly just them that enjoyed your company. You’d made easy companions in the camp with your sharp tongue and ability to hold your alcohol. You had plenty of stories to share with Arthur’s chosen family – each one of them genuinely interesting to the gang.

Everyone knew the fact Arthur had brought you around meant you were a good person. The beauty was a bonus, he’d been informed in privacy. He’d only told Sean to shut his mouth in response. Arthur slept by the fire that night so you could sleep in his cot, and if anyone else in the gang saw the way he’d sat up for at least an hour with his eyes transfixed on your sleeping figure in his bed.

It was Fall, October to be exact, the next time he heard from you – this time you had taken fate into your own hands to seek out his company. He was certain he’d never be able to dispose the letter you’d penned and sent to his camp.

Dear Arthur, Kinda strange to call you “dear”, huh? Anyway, I have a job comin’ up in Saint Denis that involves me boarding a train quite late at night and remembering our conversation earlier this year I thought I may ask you to join. Job is planned for the night of October 18, the Saturday after next. I’ll meet you the Friday before at the saloon in Van Horn if you plan on joining me. I do hope you join me. Hope that gang of yours isn’t being too rough on you.

He arrived in Van Horn a day early and rented himself a room – and a bath – so he was prepared for the meeting. He was in the saloon before you, his chest clenching as you walked in through the swinging doors.

You’d taken a page from his book and clearly bathed recently as well, and you were dressed for the first time in front of him in feminine attire. The sight of you in a skirt shouldn’t have affected him the way it did – it was embarrassing for a man his age. It didn’t prevent the pressure building at his waist, nor did it stop him from speaking his mind.

“You had to wear that damn skirt, didn’t ya?” he questioned when you joined him, a smile spreading across your face. It was hardly a gentlemanly way to greet you, but then again, he was hardly a gentleman. “Knew what you were doin’ puttin’ that on with me coming in today…”

“You complained so much about the pants last time I figured I’d save myself the headache,” you replied, sliding into a chair next to him and crossing your legs for emphasis. “You don’t like it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kitten,” he’d practically purred – a new tone between the two of you. There was no denying that you wanted to hear it more, and you nearly chose to forget the real reason you were now sitting beside him.

“I need to look the part tomorrow for the job,” you replied quickly, eager to squash the tension now building between the two of you, unwilling to allow the job to go forgotten. There was too much money at stake. “Have to board a real nice train when it leaves out of Saint Denis tomorrow night. There’s a safe onboard I’d like to get my hands into.”

“Can’t just rob it the old-fashioned way?”

“Someone didn’t like the last time I did that,” you teased, feeling pleased with the smile it earned. “Figured I’d board and crack the safe.”

“Why you need me then?”

“Need someone to play my husband and keep watch while I’m workin’ on the safe.”

“Your husband,” he huffed out with another laugh, a brief shake to his head. The term had always been silly to him, just as silly as the idea of marriage was to you as a whole, really – and yet, there was no denying the clench in both of your chests at the mere thought. The imaginary suggestion manifested in brief images of domesticity, the vision of you sleeping in his cot in July flashing in his mind.

You didn’t miss the slight redness to his cheeks, he didn’t miss how your smile fluttered into something laced with affection. For all your joking demeanor, it was still clear that there was some secretive sincerity beneath the surface – that you cared for Arthur. And on Arthur’s part, well…he wouldn’t ride across the country to work for just anyone.

“Yes,” you replied when you’d pulled yourself from the depths of his eyes. “A woman travelling with her husband is far less likely to draw attention than if I were alone.”

You thought there would be some protest, though if you’d seen even a fraction of the thoughts Arthur had conjured up in the preceding months you’d never have to question it. To you what seemed to be him conceding was actually the outlaw taking a step he’d long considered taking with you the next chance he got.

Arthur just wanted to spend time with you – there were probably very few things he’d say no to right now in regard to you. He wouldn’t go admitting that out loud anytime soon either.

“Fine, I’ll go along with your little plan. Only so you don’t go gettin’ yourself arrested.”

“Great!” you exclaimed, the brightness that covered your face blinding but serving as confirmation that he was making the right choice. The money he was sure to get would be a bonus, too. “I got you a wedding ring. Looks like it’ll fit. You can sell it when the job’s done, as a thank you.”

“You get it off a dead body?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.”

There was that goddamn feeling in his chest again.

This was the fourth time destiny had crossed your path with Arthur Morgan’s.

Now, the ring still lay in the outside pouch of his satchel, the cool metal brushing against the tips of his calloused fingers often daily in a physical reminder of you. Today, feeling the pull of being apart from you for four months now and into the new year, he’d been clutching the metal in his gloved hands as he led his horse through the far North. Seeking the solitary bliss of being alone in the mountains for the winter, he had opted to simply ride and camp, sketching in his journal and enjoying the snow dusted scenery. Arthur’s plan was soon thwarted as a snowstorm began to roll in.

He'd been riding along the same worn path to make his way down the mountain when he noticed horse tracks leading into the thick forest – a horse, by the look of it, with no reemergence to be seen. Opting to do the honorable thing, Arthur pursued the trail, weaving through trees atop his own horse until he came to a small clearing where you were setting predator bait.

He didn’t know the kind of words to describe the way he felt seeing you right in front of him.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, cat?”

If he had a way with words, he’d tell you that your smile was brighter than the sun itself – fleeting shooting stars, the North Star when he’s lost.

“That’s not the first time you’ve asked me that question, Mister Morgan,” you replied, standing up and patting your horse as your gaze remained transfixed on him now. Even at this distance you could see the blue in his coat had electrified his eyes, the tone a perfect match for the world around you. You found it hard to form any further rebuttal.

“Won’t be the last either, given you’re doing something fucking crazy every time I see you,” he teased, finally giving into the natural ease he felt with you. The light air between the two of you had finally lulled him into a sense of comfort around you – he was willing to admit he was concerned, in his own way. “There’s a storm rollin’ in. You trying to freeze to death?”

“Trying to hunt a white wolf,” you replied, glancing back at the bait you’d just set and adjusting the bow you held in your hands, an arrow already grasped between two fingers.

Fuckin’ hell, Arthur thought. ‘Course that’s what you’re out here doing.

“You ain’t gonna be hunting much of anything when you turn into an icicle,” he replied, hopeful that you would understand his taunting was coming from a place of concern – not control. “You got Scratch nearby?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you smiled, slipping the arrow back into the quiver on your back and whistling to call your horse back to you. You mounted up on the animal easily, Arthur taking the moment to appreciate how languid your movements were – how graceful. His eyes lingered at your waist for a moment longer than was decent.

“If I remember right there’s a cabin just up the road. Been empty the last few times I rode by,” he explained, his words offering more than just a place to shield from the freeze.

Arthur wanted to spend time with you. You’d truly have to be a lunatic to think otherwise.

“Lead the way, cowboy.”

The snow picked up as the two of you rode side-by-side, both of your horses slowing as the powder piled up, creating heavier footsteps. While Arthur spoke to his horse beside you to soothe her through the storm, you could feel his eyes consistently on you despite the painful whip of flakes against his unshielded cheeks.

What could have been a short ride in the summer extended in the weather, and by the time the cabin approached view you had begun to shiver – something Arthur took note of. When he climbed from his horse he unrolled the blanket on the back of his saddle, passing it up to you before grabbing his shotgun.

“I’ll check inside, you try not to shiver s’much you fall off your horse.”

He disappeared into the cabin, your mind focusing on the sounds of him moving about rather the piling snow that was sure to trap you for days. Keeping yourself wrapped in his blanket provided the additional comfort of his lingering scent, and you found yourself clutching the fabric tighter and tighter as the moments passed.

“This’ll be fine ‘til the storm’s passed,” he announced as he exited through the doors, voice raised so you could hear him over the wind. “You go on in while I get some firewood and hitch the horses.”

“I can help, you know,” you offered, eyebrows pulling together to communicate your frustration.

“Would you stop your arguing for once and go inside out of this shit?”

By the time Arthur made his way in from the storm you’d used what wood remained in the cabin to start a fire, the flames warming the air around it quickly. The mattress was considerably dirty and out of the question, so you were validated in the decision to carry in your bedrolls and blankets, having set them up comfortably in front of the fire.

His heavy boots sounded on the floor as he approached where you sat on the floor from behind, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“Already got a fire going?”

“Uh huh,” you replied, noting the subtle shake to his voice. Arthur was strong, but he was human, and he was cold. The fact that he not only was willing to but insisted on suffering for you caused a knot to form in your stomach. “Got some whisky if you need help warming up.”

He simply grunted affirmatively in reply, setting the stack of wood carefully to the side and picking out the driest pieces to tend the fire with now. You tempted to hand the bottle out to him, the liquid going ignored as he began to peel off layer by layer, tossing the soaked clothing to the side lazily with little regard for how they ended up. Normally you’d have stood to hang the clothes, but you found yourself spellbound by the way Arthur’s muscles flexed with each movement under the simple wet damp button up shirt – the last remaining layer.

When he was somewhat comfortable, he turned to face you, eyes flashing with amusement as he took the bottle from your fingers. You were certain your mouth was hanging open and he’d caught you. At the moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

Hours passed as the two of you got warm and caught up over the last few weeks. You sat opposite one another, both wrapped in your own blankets and full of enough whisky to ignore the storm outside – to ignore everything but one another. Arthur hadn’t missed that most of your clothes lie neatly folded atop the countertop. The thought was repeating in his mind – the heavy question of what exactly remained under the blanket haunting him.

He couldn’t be blamed for not being a good listener.

“Arthur, are you even listenin’ to me?”

“Not a fuckin’ word,” he replied with one more small swig of whisky from the bottle, setting it well out of the way to the side. “Stop fuckin’ doin’ that if you want me to listen.”

“Doing what?”

You knew damn well what.

“Lookin’ at me like you want me to come crawl on top of you.”

Why on Earth would you ever stop doing that?

“No.”

Your mouth was going to drive him to insanity one day. He wasn’t going to do a single thing about it.

“Did you just tell me ‘No’?”

“Yeah, Arthur, I surely did,” you replied, quick and agile as you were on your feet. He was beginning to think you may only talk to hm this way, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to reach out to you. “Hoping you take the hint.”

The blanket he’d been using for himself was discarded to the side, your words finally snapping the thin thread of control that remained in him. He extended one arm outward toward the floor to support himself, outstretching his legs to be situated in a more comfortable position before his eyes found yours again.

“Come on over here,” his invitation came thick as molasses and dripping just as sweet, his free hand patting his right thigh to give his words deeper meaning. “Bring the blanket.”

Arthur had finally figured out how to get you to stop arguing and basked in the glory of the moment as you crawled to him carefully, finding a comfortable seat in his lap as you straddled his thighs. He savored the view as you wrapped your arms around his neck, encompassing you both with the blanket, your face illuminated by the golden glow of the well-tended fire – beautiful, warm, inviting.

He was more than happy to finally accept.

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

He knew you were trying to sound resolute as you always did – firm and demanding and impossible to deny. While those things lingered – he doubted they could ever truly be gone from you – what really laced your words was the quietest of whines. He sat up fully, bringing his torso closer to yours and grasping your hips in both hands, all the while your heart beating faster and faster in anticipation.

When you opened your mouth to let your protest be known again, he took his opportunity to claim your lips in a long-awaited kiss, the feeling of his lips caressing yours sucking the air from your chest immediately. He opted to slide his hands to your lower back to bring you in closer, pressing your chests together as he kissed you hungrily. Touch starved and overwhelmed by the feeling of you returning his kiss with soft lips he sought more of your skin, sliding his hands up the back of the loose blouse you remained in.

“Clothes are still wet,” he grumbled against your lips, displeased by the cool touch to your skin that remained. You scrambled to reinitiate the kiss, your lips catching his bottom lip as a whine slipped through your lips. A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose.

“Take them off, then,” you breathed out, bowing your head to press a delicate kiss to his neck. His own breath caught, arms wrapping tighter around you – almost too tight, almost too crushing. You made no move to stop him as you began to test the best places to leave your kisses, spurring him to release his hold on you to start peeling the last layers from both of you.

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear when all that remained were intimate coverings, a shaky groan rolling through his chest. His hands engulfed you, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, dipping his head to claim your lips again.

That kiss was hungry – starved – clumsy in ways that screamed of desperation. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples lightly, a smile evident on his lips despite the fact he continued to kiss you as a moan slipped from your throat. It spiraled from there, both of your hands exploring, your fingers the best thing he’d felt against his skin in a long time. As the pressure built heavier at your waist his hands trailed lower, one stopping to grasp your waist, the other slipping into the waistband of your underwear.

He'd never heard music that sounded as good as the sound of the moan that left you as his thick fingers swiped through your wet folds, an appreciative hum shaking in his throat as you burrowed your face in his neck.

“You’re already soaked for me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice getting lower and lower with each word. He began to sink his index finger into you, grasping your hip tighter in his other hand. “Fuckin’ tight, too. Hell.”

“Arthur…”

“Aw, hush,” he cooed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple as he curled his finger inside you, pulling a quiet whimper from you. “No point tryin’ to talk right now, darlin’ – just lemme take care of ya.”

He could take his sweet time, Arthur Morgan. He was a patient man, especially when it came to you, and never more-so than now as he began to work his finger in and out of your clenching heat. He added a second finger soon, pressing the heel of his hand to your clit to give you more pressure, which you gladly accepted by rocking your hips into it.

As he pumped his fingers into you he began to trail kisses lower, the kisses growing heavier and wetter the further down he went. By the time he nipped at your hip with his teeth lightly you were breathless, eyes squeezed shut as you lost yourself to pleasure. He kissed across your waistline as he pulled your underwear down, smiling against your skin lightly when you kicked them free with frustrated fervor.

Nothing up to this point compared to the feeling of Arthur sliding his tongue from his fingers to your clit, giving the sensitive bundle of nerves a soft suck. He repeated the motion as you struggled to even moan, your hands grasping at the blankets now on the floor beneath you as you tried to rock your hips into his face desperately.

“Easy, now,” Arthur reprimanded with quiet reverence behind his words, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh softly. “I’m takin’ my time with you, don’t rush me.”

You finally opened your eyes, ready to give him an earful about being a tease, only to be frozen once again faced with the sight of Arthur, golden illuminated by the fire and somehow still wearing his hat tipped back on his head. You maintained eye contact with him as you reached forward with your hands, removing the hat with one hand and placing it on your own head as your fingers ran through his hair, giving a soft tug at the end.

The growl vibrated through him and you as he connected his lips to your clit, pumping his fingers into you and connecting the tips, curling them skillfully to rub against the sensitive patch deep within you as he sucked your clit. All the while he maintained eye contact, even when he removed his mouth from you with one final flick of his tongue, just as he removed his fingers from you.

“Arthur…” you whimpered in protest, tugging his hair again to try to bring him back to your needy core.

“Hush,” he instructed tenderly, slipping his hands under your ass and grasping firmly to lift your waist from the floor. He soaked in the view of your glistening folds at this angle and tested how it looked to watch one of his fingers slip into you before removing it, licking his lips again. “You are a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your reply was sucked from your chest and altered into a cry of pleasure as he spit on your folds, smearing the liquid around before connecting his thumb to your clit, rubbing a figure eight. Supporting your raised hips still with one hand he continued to rub your clit, now using his tongue to fuck into you rather than his fingers, tasting you how he’d wanted to for nearly a year now.

The pressure continued to build and boil, eventually reaching a point of eruption – all the usual signs there with your shaking thighs, shorter and desperate breaths, your nails scratching against his temple as you gripped whatever you could. Arthur figured it was a previously unknown bonus to him keeping his hair a little on the longer side. He groaned to encourage you, switching his movements to pump his fingers into you again, circling your clit with his tongue until you became incendiary, your first orgasm washing through you with white hot heat.

He continued to lap at your folds as you came, removing his tongue from you occasionally only to kiss your thighs and mutter tender praises as you came back down to your body. When you had some sense about yourself, he was crawling back up you, pressing kisses to your stomach and breasts before he reached your lips, offering you a taste of your own honey sweet pleasure on his tongue.

When the adoration filled amorous kiss ended so Arthur could breathe you began to trail kisses down his neck again, following a trail to his chest before his index finger caught under your chin, lifting you back up to him, cerulean eyes questioning.

“Your turn,” you offered, slipping one of your hands into the waistband of his underwear and wrapping your fingers around his throbbing cock slowly. Running your finger over the velvet head you smeared the pre-spend leaking already, biting at your swollen bottom lip when he moaned.

“Not tonight, sweet thing,” he declined, his hesitation clear in his voice. You began to rub him gently – slowly – too damn slow – causing his eyes to roll back briefly. “You wrap these lips around me, and I won’t last long enough t’ fuck you.”

“Please.”

You didn’t truly know what you were begging for – for him to test himself and allow you to take his already throbbing cock into your mouth or for him to follow through on that promise to fuck you. Luckily, Arthur seemed to know exactly what your words were asking for – what you needed.

He reached to remove your hand from his cock gently, freeing himself of his underwear before he gently moved you to your side, lying beside you with his back to the fire to shield you from getting too much heat, to ensure you didn’t get hurt. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other slid to cup your cheek in his hand, bringing you in closer to him as he kissed you again.

As much fun as he’d been having teasing, he was done with the games now, and could no longer find the patience. He reached to lift your leg around his waist before grasping his cock, rubbing against your still-soaked entrance for a moment to gather some lubrication before he sank into you. Inch by inch disappeared into your velvet channel, the kiss practically halting as you gasped. He leaned his forehead against yours instead, grasping your waist gently as he continued to slip into you.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he breathed out. The large hand that still cupped your cheek slipped downward to rest against your neck instead, his fingertips digging into your skin in attempt to steady himself, to savor your pulse beneath his touch. “Takin’ me so good. You doin’ okay?”

You nodded as you stared into his eyes, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open already at the feeling of him stretching you, almost too full but not something you’d be willing to give up anytime soon. When he’d fully seated himself within you, his cock buried to the hilt he released a shaky groan of his own, his eyes briefly closing as he savored the feeling of being wrapped up in you.

“Goddamn you’re tight,” he groaned out, pressing several light kisses to your lips before grinding his hips into yours slightly. “Shoulda crawled ‘tween your legs months ago.”

“Would…ah…woulda let you,” you managed to reply, pressing your lips to his in an unabashedly salacious kiss, already perfecting how to slot your lips against his in a way that left him craving more. He couldn’t hold back his movements any longer and began to pump into you repeatedly, setting a wanton and quick pace that somehow managed to remain tender and reverent.

He could only be tender for so long, desperation and months of waiting and yearning building in him. His movements began to get sloppy sooner than he’d have liked, though he felt better when your walls began to flutter and clench around him, your thigh shaking around his hip slightly. He picked up his pace to a much more relentless one, driving his cock into you and into your spongy cervix repeatedly as his grunts became more frequent, pressing kisses to your neck now.

“Want you to finish while I’m inside you,” he instructed, though there was something so subtly desperate behind his words – a quiet beg that only someone who knew him would recognize. “Think you can do that for me, darlin’?”

You nodded before leaning your head back again, quiet cries leaving your lips as he connected his thumb to your clit again, immediately choosing a relentless pace to rub in circles. You were almost certain you’d do anything he asked and soon enough you were pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching him so tight he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remove himself. He did his best to continue pumping into you roughly now as he sought his own release, certain you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Like you’d need to, anyway.

“F-fill me up, Arthur,” you begged unexpectedly through your euphoria, and he didn’t need anything else to convince him. With only a few more bruising thrusts he stilled inside you as he emptied his seed in hot ropes into you, groaning loudly as he lazily leaned his forehead to yours again, his own eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t remove himself from you when you’d both ridden your orgasms, instead holding you close and reaching to cover the two of you in one of the blankets that was on the floor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly to hold you closer to him, slipping one of his legs between yours for additional comfort and warmth. Still semi-hard with plenty of stamina to offer you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him seated in you still, buried as deep as possible as he brushed his nose against yours.

“Be a whole lot warmer this way,” he offered, giving a subtle move of his hips to emphasize the meaning behind his words. He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before reaching upward to kiss your forehead, leaving his lips resting there. He was right – you did finally feel warm.

“Mm,” was all you could reply, laying your head against his shoulders and closing your eyes, burrowing your face into his neck. He smiled as you managed to press lazy kisses into his neck before wrapping your arms around him as well.

“Think I’ll keep you here all winter,” he offered after several blissful moments, his head leaning to rest on the top of yours as his own eyes closed. He pressed one final kiss to your temple before succumbing to the comfort of you fully.

“Always knew you were a big teddy bear, Arthur,” you teased. How you managed to run your mouth still after he’d fucked you right was beyond him – but it was also probably a reason he’d want to keep fucking you.

“We’ll call it hibernation, then.”

masterlist. red dead redemption masterlist.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut

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demonicbaby666 · 8 months

Note

Babe. Please teacher/student Emily and fem reader. I beg of you. Smut galore!!!

Professor P

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut and fluff

Words: 4k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, fingering and oral (r!receiving), semi-public sex (lecture hall), teacher/student, a little sprinkle of praise, swearing

Summary: Professor Prentiss has been coming to deliver weekly lectures at your university. You’ve mainly kept to the back and been weary of getting in her bad books. When you turn up late to class one day, things take an interesting turn, and you find the dynamics between the two of you drastically change.

A/n: i cannot find the gif I want, so we are going with a new layout. I scavenged everywhere for footage to make one and found fuckall :(

You're late. It's only five minutes, but that doesn't matter. Emily Prentiss does not appreciate tardiness, which is why your pulse is racing and your feet are rapidly slamming against the varnished floor.

When you reach the daunting lecture hall door, the handle mocks you with its screeching, causing you to grit your teeth. Great. Heads turn to the back of the room and watch as you clamber to find a seat, and no matter how hard you try not to look, you can feel Emily's pointed glare burning a hole straight through you.

The hall is relatively big. Sounds transpire effortlessly. It benefits whoever takes the class, their voice seamlessly carrying to the back. It offers no such advantage for the odd student who comes in late because the same principles apply. No matter how hard you try to keep quiet, the silence in the room does nothing to mask the ruffling of papers and pens.

"Thanks for joining us," Emily calls out once you settle, forcing you to meet her eyes.

You know better than to challenge her, so you grimace and mutter your barely audible apology.

"See me after class." she says, and murmurs scatter across the dotted ocean of students, "Let's continue."

It's torture. With each passing minute, your palms grow clammy, your knee shaky, and your breath heavy. Emily's picking on you more than anyone else, and though you know the answers, getting them right doesn't alleviate your nerves. She does offer a smile when you prove your lateness is by no means an accurate reflection of your intelligence. However, it's not a proud, candid smile that does little to calm you, simply because the browns of her eyes are tinted with something hungry and predatory that sends shivers through your body.

Time passes, and you continue to blossom into a colossal mess. Students dart out whilst you gather your things and nervously await your fate. On your way down the broad steps of the auditorium, fellow peers you've spoken to in passing offer their sorry attempts at comfort by leaving taps on your shoulders. It feels more like you're being sent off to the front lines rather than having a reprimand from your professor.

When you approach her desk, Emily's fingers tap away at her keyboard. Aside from a brief upward glance, she barely acknowledges your presence, and then she's back to typing, leaving you with nothing else to do - other than awkwardly fiddle with your fingers and wait.

What feels like an eternity later, Emily finally stops typing and turns the computer off. Though she may have still sat down, giving you the advantage of being on the higher ground, her piercing stare leads you to believe she most definitely is at no disadvantage and is solemnly aware she garners all your attention.

"What's the excuse?" she asks, looking you up and down.

"Excuse?" you nervously question.

"Yes, excuse," She rolls her eyes, stands up, then walks around the desk. Standing tall and remaining a few steps away, she continues, "Why were you late?"

Ice runs cold through your veins, and your mouth feels drier than the desert. You swallow the dry lump in your throat, "Library," you manage to choke out, "I lost track of time."

The answer doesn't seem to amuse her, and she rolls her eyes as she pulls up the left sleeve of her blouse. A silence bathes you both, though it seems only to take hold of you. Emily is too busy fiddling with her watch to notice or care.

It glints in the light when she steps forward, throwing your body into fight or flight, or the lesser of both, freeze. You stand stark still despite everything in your body telling you to back away.

"Hold out your wrist," she instructs, taking off her watch. You do as told and watch in astonishment as the leather straps clasp around your wrist. Emily's face remains unreadable until her eyes move from your wrist to your face, and you pick up on the slight curve of her lips and something unfamiliar in her eyes that almost resembles amusement, "Don't be late again."

Words aren't coming to you nearly as quickly as they should, and the hint of amusement that dances in Emily's eyes intensifies. Then, she grabs her things like nothing unusual has occurred and steps forward, whispering in your ear, "Next time, I won't be so nice."

A shiver runs down your spine, and before you can turn around, Emily's already out the door.

"What the hell just happened?" you ask the empty room, staring down at the watch on your wrist.

A week passes before you see Emily again, and in that time, there isn't a day that goes by when you don't wear that watch. The habit of looking down and smiling at it creeps up on you. Often, you look around to see if anyone else has noticed, then pull your sleeve over it as though it needs to be kept a secret.

Maybe you want to keep in on the down low because the thought of having anyone else know would tarnish what seems to be, or you hope to be a treasured memory shared between you and Emily, or maybe it is something else entirely. All you know is that you want the exchange to remain between the two people who were present for it. Thankfully, it does.

The leather straps of the watch itself have lightened ever so slightly with time, and a bubbling sense of warmth comes in late nights of your dorm room, looking at it and thinking of who it belonged to and how long it had adorned their wrist. You trace your fingers over the metal frame of the clockface and toy with buttons, all the while relishing in the hints of perfume that appear hellbent on remaining ever-present.

As the week drags on, you find yourself more excited than you've ever been for Emily's class. You're one of the first few to show up.

Though you usually favour the back few rows, the thoughts from the past week have you walking down more steps than you're accustomed to. Being at the front is far too much of a statement, you tell yourself. You settle for the middle.

With a clear view and no heads in your line of sight, you watch Emily stand by the computer and set up the necessary slides whilst she likely waits for the room to fill up. The side exit door is open, letting in a cool summer breeze that ruffles sitting papers on the brunette's desk—the touseling sound of crisp paper dances across the room.

The gusts of wind sweeping in aren't entirely strong, but they're blowing wisps of Emily's hair into her face. So much so she reaches a hand to brush them away and hypnotically tucks the loose strands behind her ear.

One of the first things you'd noticed about Emily, or rather, hadn't, was her fringe. Unlike in pictures you'd seen of her online, she now wears her hair down, parted in the middle with feathered layers subtly framing her face. It suits her. Then again, anything would.

Her attention falters, and she tears herself away from the screen to glimpse over the room. Eyes jadedly pass by you, then dart back and raptly take you in. Emily's gaze falls to your wrist. Her lips curve into a satisfied smirk, and there's no stopping the tension in your stomach that twists and coils in looping knots. Butterflies swim through the remains of cold brew coffee - that should be thanked for you getting to class so early - and the heat from the unforgiving sun feels like it's waited to peek through the window until this very moment to cast warm rays of light on your already flushed face.

Emily meets your eyes briefly. You mirror her smirk despite the nerves setting your body on fire and wait till she resumes scanning the room before shakily pulling out your notebook and pen.

It's not until she's looking back at her computer that you dare to look at her again. Your eyes traipse lower to her blouse. The light grey - if not off-white - colour of it is brought out by the occupying white blazer Emily has now flung over her chair. She's wearing black suit trousers, secured low on her waist by a simple belt, yet, with the buckle placement being off-centre, it becomes the heart of her outfit.

The last couple of students come in, dangerously close to being late, but no one else enters once the short clock hand takes its place next to the number nine. Emily moves to stand before the large white projection screen and begins speaking. Her hands move in time with what she's saying, gesturing to what's being displayed. Clasping together now and then.

You've always paid attention to how she carries herself, though now, you were really noticing it. Her walk, her posture, the way she needn't ask for silence or for anyone to focus because she simply demands it in the way she speaks. It's enticing. She's enticing, pulling you in like a helpless fish to bait. Everything becomes background noise from then on, and all you know is Professor P.

Words bellow through the room, and you try to focus on what's being said. It's not that you don't hear; it's that this lecture doesn't register as being nearly as crucial as Emily's newly popped button - revealing a whole new ocean of skin your eyes aren't quite sure they should be allowed to see. It takes dragging your eyes to the blank lined paper on your desk to find the will to breathe normally again.

Minutes pass. You don't dare pry your eyes away from the utter mess of words littered before you. Not being able to pick on anything being said coherently means going through the slides later, but it can't be helped. Every time you glance at the front of the room, you're entranced and sure that drool may be slipping from the sides of your lips. Somehow, Emily's loose shirt has managed to cling to her in all the right places, and you can't advert your eyes from her chest.

She clears her throat, and you break away from gawking at her breasts to see she's looking directly at you, trying not to smile. Thankfully, she moves on without drawing any unwanted attention from other students your way, but the damage has already been done. Your cheeks burn under the unbearable heat of the blaring sun and pure and utter humiliation.

For the remainder of the lecture, you keep your eyes glued to your desk. Thoughts racing, heart pounding, you think of how best to sneakily pack your things before Emily is finished so that you can flee the scene of the crime as fast as humanly possible.

That decision, unfortunately, is taken away from you when Emily makes her closing statement, "Come and collect your marked papers, and then you're free to go."

After tripping over flights of stairs rushing to be first, you end up fifth in the queue, straining to watch Emily search through a hefty pile to locate the corresponding paper to the student next in line. It moves quickly, and soon enough, you're face-to-face with the professor. Staring into her cedar eyes, you wonder why she's almost to the bottom of the papers and still hasn't found yours.

"Wait to the side, and I'll look in my bag once I've handed out the rest," Emily says, gesturing to the space beside her. So much for getting out as fast as you can.

There's not much for you to do but watch Emily delicately continue handing out papers. At times, she'll bring a finger to her lips and briefly run her tongue along it. Every morsel of your body lights up at the sight, and there is a need to discover what else that tongue could do. How fast can it move? How deep can it go? Would it delve in or torture you with teasing flicks until you're shaking with want?

The last student is given their paper, and you and Emily watch them leave. It's a hopeful thought to think that you're waiting because Emily wants to have you all to herself, and if that is indeed what she wants, you have no qualms.

The brunette leans down to grab her bag, making it incredibly hard not to notice the generous amount of cleavage on offer and the beginning of what looked to be a navy blue bralette, "You seemed less focussed today," she mindlessly says, looking through the contents of her bag.

Still flustered from the view, you shake yourself out of it and search your sluggish mind for a reasonable excuse that doesn't remotely sound anything like, 'Sorry, I was busy checking you out.'

"Sorry, I got a little distracted." It's not a lie. That does little to settle your nerves and level the uneasiness of guilt settling in your stomach.

Pulling out a sheet of paper, Emily places it on her desk and steps forward. The space between her desk and the wall is slim, so when you take the necessary action to keep your body at a distance, you feel the solidity of plaster against your shoulder blades.

In an effort to disguise your growing anxieties, you relax your back against the wall and push your hips out to place your sweaty hands against cooling white paint. Resting the straining muscles in your jaw, you hope to convince the profiler that this interaction does not affect you in the slightest despite it doing precisely that.

Emily studies your pose, and it appears for a few seconds she may have bought the whole, 'I'm waiting against the wall like any other normal student would' until she, once again, places one foot in front of the other and stands a hand's width away.

"What were you paying attention to then?" she asks, her tone unmistakably changing. It's raspy and playful, filled with the prowess of an experienced sweet talker.

She reaches out and lightly skims a finger down the outside of your arm, looking expectantly into your eyes for an answer.

Breathing has suddenly become incredibly hard. Electrical currents are running up and along the length of your arms, and they're ebbing their way across your chest, down your stomach to wake up an aching between your legs. There's no doubt what she's doing is passing the appropriate boundaries, but you can't deny the fact you want to entertain it.

"You." It was meant to come out confident. Instead, the word is whispered and almost cut short by your bottom lip slapping up to meet its counterpart.

The brunette's lips curve into a devilish smile, and she steps forward, resting one hand on the wall next to your head, "Interesting. And what about me were you paying attention to?"

"Emily," you whisper. It's unclear what you're hoping to achieve with her name tumbling out of your mouth in a manner that resembles both a beg and a warning. A faint tremor echoes through your body, and a surge of fear penetrates your mind, screaming that this could all be a wild dream within your psyche's hidden depth.

The professor's left-hand rests on your cheek; she bends her left elbow to draw her face nearer yours, and you see the eye of the storm in view.

Trudging through the muck of thoughts, you stand in the clearing. It greets you with visions that you've long since yearned for. Bodies tangled together, hands clawing along a muscled back, dark hair sprawled over exposed creamy skin dotted with botches the colour of wine.

"Please," you close your eyes and send your plea into the slither of space between you, a slither that feels more like a vast ocean. The need to know if this is real has you asking for one thing, "Kiss me."

The words linger, and weeds of doubt sprout. A pair of soft lips grab them from the root and plunge them from the earth with a kiss and firm hands now moving down to wrap around the small of your waist.

You part your lips and allow your hands to find their new anchor. They loop around Emily's neck and pull her in, and she, in turn, deepens the kiss, reaching out with her tongue to seek passage into your mouth.

Complying almost immediately, your tongues meet in a brief battle of dominance, where you quickly and selfishly decide it's best to surrender. Both of you are happy to let Emily take the lead.

Moans echo over the rows of seats, hands wander frantically under layers of clothing, and soon enough, Emily has you turned around and pressed against her desk. The shirt she's wearing has been fully unbuttoned, revealing a canvas of skin ready to be devoured: milky shoulders, sharp collarbones, full breasts, nipples straining underneath a cage of lace, and the soft outline of muscles running along her stomach down to the beginnings of her trousers.

"Up," Emily growls.

Taking it upon herself to carry through her order, she holds the backs of your thighs and props you atop her desk.

She wedges herself between your spread legs, pushing her taut stomach directly over your clothed cunt. The wetness of your underwear presses against your clit, and the realisation that no one had ever gotten you this wet from merely kissing and touching dawns on you. It makes you want her more if that's even possible.

Reaching out, you take her breasts into your hands, kneading them in your palms, then push the offending material away to give direct attention to her hardened nipples. One, you take between your lips, sucking intently, the other between your thumb and index finger, pinching and twisting it. When you switch sides, Emily lets out a crackled groan and threads her fingers into your hair. Your thumb brushes over her wet nipple, pressing it lightly into her breast. You circle her tit carefully whilst mirroring the same action with your tongue.

"Fuck. That mouth," Emily moans, the cords in her neck straining as she throws her head back in pure bliss.

Once satisfied, the brunette pulls you up into a needy kiss, desperate to show her gratitude. It doesn't last long, and soon, her mouth strays along the sharp edge of your jaw, down to your neck. Her fingers skim down your shoulder, chest and stomach, down to the buttons of your trousers, where she swiftly undoes them and delves her hand in.

You grip her shoulders, leaving moon-crescent indentations into her perfect skin, and let out a spluttered gasp. Emily runs her fingers through your glistening sex, leaving you breathless, "I love how wet you are," she says into the curve of your neck.

Using the arousal gathered on her fingers, she lathers your clit, circling it with a teasing barely-there pressure. Meanwhile, her hand sneaks under your shirt to toy with your nipple.

"More," you whimper, rucking your eyebrows and jostling your hips, striving for pleasure that will break through the surface of small shocks and leave you elated.

In unison, she bites down over your thrumming pulse point and pushes her fingers knuckle deep into you. A guttural moan roars and bounces off the tall confines of the amphitheatre. As the pleasurable cry ricochets back to the small desk, Emily shows no signs of stopping, too stubborn to care or too proud to acknowledge the severity of what the sound could lead to.

The walls of your pussy clench around Emily's fingers, heightening the stretch and feel of them slipping in and out of you. The abundance of wetness allows for no friction, and the fluidity aids the brunette to pick up a faster pace.

"You're taking my finger so well," she praises, thrusting deeper and faster.

Your nails must feel like talons to her at this point, clawing and etching at her back. She makes no complaint, only latches her lips to yours and groans whilst she fucks you fervently.

"I'm going to come." You breathlessly announce.

She pulls out abruptly, and the built-up pressure dissipates into thin air, leaving you simultaneously star-struck and confused.

A protest forms but has no time to leave you because Emily pulls you into a fiery kiss. It's fast and uncontrollable, tongue darting around your mouth, teeth gnawing at your lips, until she finally breaks away to catch her breath.

"I want you to come in my mouth," she says with a ravenous grin that instantly has you nodding your approval.

"God, yes." You moan.

Emily's quick to loop her fingers through the waistband of your underwear and trousers, leaving you half naked on the desk as she places your legs over her shoulders and runs her tongue up your right thigh, leaving a shimming saliva trail.

With one clean swipe of her tongue, the professor licks the entire length of your slit and moans as the first taste of you hits her taste buds. Hungry for more, she stiffens the muscle and plunges it inside you, lapping your juices straight from the source.

If the possibility of screaming wouldn't get you caught, you would do so. For now, you settle on nestling your hands into silky brown hair whilst quietly chanting Emily's name, encouraging 'yes's' and anything else that would keep her from letting up.

The muscles in your abdomen tense almost painfully from holding your body upright. You lay back on the desk, not wanting the sensations flowing through your body to be dulled in any way. Relief floods through you, and your actions are rewarded with waves of pleasure, crashing over every fragment of your being.

The room fades away as you close your eyes and feel the professor's tongue curve inside you, running along the rough edges of your g-spot. Too afraid you'll draw blood with the continuous raking of nails through her scalp, you settle your hands above your head, wrapping your fingers over the edge of the wooden desk.

Faint voices of students walking past the doors muffle in your ears, mingling with the rushed thudding of your heartbeat. Thud, voices, thud, clambered footsteps, thud, the sound of your moan, thud, then Emily's thumbing your clit, and every sound fades to nothingness, and you stop breathing.

Tremors render you useless. Your hips are grinding erratically, Emily's tongue is pressed inside you, and your clit is twitching. Sparks linger in your vision as your eyes fly open and find lust-darkened orbs - pinning you down with their fervour and watching you fall over the edge of your orgasm.

Somehow, through the haze of your orgasm-muddled brain, you tear your hand from the desk and slap it over your mouth to silence a shrilling sob. Your chest burns. Your legs shake. And finally, you arch your back, going joint-breakingly rigid.

The older woman slows down and runs soothing circles over the sides of your thighs. Two small pecks are placed on your hip bones before Emily stands up, and you all but fling yourself upright to devour her lips in a desperate kiss. Your aroma and sharp tang linger on the tongue, sliding into your mouth and causing you to stifle a moan at the taste.

"That was amazing," you murmur over her lips.

"Mmmm," Emily hums agreeingly, breaking away and resting her head on your shoulder to catch her breath.

"I still get to keep the watch, right?" You playfully ask, though there is some room for reassurance, "I've grown quite attached."

Emily chuckles into your neck, and it's single-handedly the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Her laugh penetrates your skin and worms its way directly into your heart.

"Yes, it's yours," she replies.

"And…"

"And?" She pulls back, looking confused.

"I don't need to worry about you handing out other watches to students, right?"

The brunette tentatively meets your lips again in a sweet kiss, stopping only for a second to whisper, "Not a chance."

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#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds

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babydollmarauders · 4 months

Text

OH CHRISTMAS TREE — JAMIE DRYSDALE

jamie drysdale x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n is decorating the christmas tree with her best friend and comes to terms with some deeper feelings

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, fingering, p in v, praise, dirty talk, i think that’s all?. (3k words)

notes: welcome to day 3 of the 12 days of kinkmas! please enjoy some soft friends-to-lovers with JD!

p.s. i wrote this prior to us learning that Jamie and Trevor no longer live together, so let’s just pretend they still do for the sake of the fic

“do you think Trevor is gonna come home tonight?”

my best friend shakes his head at my question, handing me another ornament from the brand new package we bought at the store today.

“definitely not.” he chuckles, “when he goes over to her house for a hang out, he never comes back until the next day.”

Jamie uses air quotations around the words ‘hang out’, which makes me cringe, squeezing my eyes shut as though it’ll help clear my thoughts of Trevor having sex.

“oh, i did not need to imagine that.” he cackles when he sees my horrified expression, nearly doubling over in laughter.

my hand finds its way to his shoulder, slapping against his hoodie covered body.

“you asked!” he shrugs, “i didn’t think you’d picture it!”

“my mind wanders!” i defend myself, elbowing him in the arm as he stands completely upright again. “just gimme the last ornament.”

he finally sobers up, handing me the final ornament and allowing me to hang it on the tree before we step back to survey it.

“we still need to do the topper.” he concludes and i nod, stepping over to the plastic bags on the coffee table.

i rummage through them, my hunt ending when i finally spot the sparkly tree topper. walking over, i strain onto my tiptoes, flexing my arm as far as i can reach to try and place the decoration, but i still come up short.

“let me help.” Jamie gruffs, and i drop back down onto flat feet, expecting him to place the topper himself.

but instead, he stands behind me, his hands coming up to grip my jean clad hips, and lifts me up. taking me by surprise, i quickly place the topper on the christmas tree.

“is it straight?” i ask, peering down in await of his approval, just in time to watch him drag his eyes away from my ass.

was he checking me out?

“yeah, looks good.” i have to bite my lip to stifle a laugh, my mind immediately drifting, wondering if he was talking about the tree or my butt.

he slowly lowers me, my body sliding through his loosened grasp, and as my feet begin to reach the floor, his hands slip up the hem of my sweater. his chilled touch against the heated skin of my abdomen sending goosebumps along my body, butterflies erupting in my stomach.

Jamie tenses, his hands lingering even after my feet are flat against the hardwood, and a light shiver wracks my body.

i like it.

i mean, i know i’ve always tiptoed the line between platonic and romantic feelings with Jamie. even when we first met, i had hoped we would be something more. but then we became best friends, and i never thought there was any chance of us becoming anything else. so i locked those feelings away, living in quiet delusion that they never existed. but now i’m forced to face them again; forced to come to terms with the fact that they’re still there, and i still want more with him.

i turn my head, glancing over my shoulder and locking eyes with my best friend. and suddenly, it’s like i can see into his mind, reading him like an open book.

he likes it too.

i blink and all too quickly, Jamie is dropping his hands, stepping back hurriedly.

“sorry.” he mutters, casting me a small yet forced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

i turn to face him, fighting the urge to pull him back to me.

“there’s no need to apologize.” i can only hope that i’m accurately conveying my underlying feelings. that he understands that i mean my words and also that they hold a deeper meaning than just dismissing his apology.

“there’s not?” his eyebrow raises, his hand flexing in front of him as though in a mental battle with himself; whether or not he should touch me again.

my head shakes slowly and i step closer, gazing up through my lashes to meet his eyes. my hand wraps around his wrist, scanning his face to gauge his reactions and emotions as i guide his touch back underneath my sweater and onto my waist.

his fingertips lightly skim my flesh, his sight cautiously flickering between my eyes and my lips. he must find what he’s searching for, because within a moment, his palm is pressed flat to my body, his fingers curling around my waist as he draws me even closer to him. our bodies are mere inches away from each other now, toeing the line between friendly and loving.

“do you…?” he trails off but he doesn’t have to finish his sentence in order for me to understand his meaning. i hum in agreement.

“do you…?” i repeat, my vocal inflection rising as i trail off; a question of my own, not ready to make the final jump unless i know for sure.

Jamie groans, finally pulling me flush against him, “god, yes.”

my best friend wastes no time in crashing his lips upon mine, his free hand tangling in my hair to tilt my head back.

a quiet moan travels up my throat, blocked by our locked lips which leave no choice but to vibrate against them.

he pulls away just slightly and i instinctively chase after him for a second.

“how long have you felt this way?” he whispers against me, simultaneously walking backwards, pulling me with him until my knees are resting on either side of him on the couch.

“since we met.” my confession is breathy and rushed, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on mine again. “i thought i would get over it- that you didn’t see me like that.”

“fuck, i saw you like that.” he sounds pained, his grip tightening on my hips to keep me in place as i attempt to roll them against his. “of course i saw you like that.

“you’re beautiful, and smart, and kind. fuck, how could i not see you as more when you’re literally my dream girl? i never wanted to be just friends with you.”

i whimper at his words as he connects his mouth to my neck, pressing a trail of open mouthed kisses from my collarbone to my jawline.

“the amount of time we’ve wasted-” i’m cut off as he rolls his hips up to meet mine, a broken moan drawn from my lips at the feeling.

“shhh, don’t think about that.” he mutters against my skin, “we know now.”

his grip on my hips loosens as he guides them down to meet his. his lips finally meet mine again, suckling on my bottom lip as i sigh in pleasure.

“bed.” i huff as he pulls away. “let’s go to your bed.”

his arms encircle my waist, holding me to him as he rises to his feet, allowing me to lock my legs around him.

he’s efficient in making his way to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us and dropping me onto his mattress.

“are you sure?” his blue eyes gaze into mine; swimming with concern.

i nod frantically, my fingers coiling through his belt loops to tug him back to me, “absolutely.”

he whines lowly, cupping my face gingerly with his hands.

“you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted this.”

he bends forward to kiss my lips, kneeling down on the bed between my spread legs.

the kiss quickly develops back into something lustful and intense, my hands shaking with pent up desire as they clutch at the hem of his shirt. i play with it, subtly letting him know that i want it off, but he just chuckles against my lips.

“use your words, pretty girl.”

i mewl at his remark and the way his swollen lips brush against mine.

“off, please.” i whisper through panted breaths. “i don’t want anything between us.”

he backs away, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head, drawing the t-shirt underneath with it. i bite at the inside of my bottom lip, taking the chance to memorize every detail of his torso.

every freckle, every curve, every hair or birthmark being lasered into my brain.

he’s so perfect.

his nimble fingers drop to the button of his jeans, unfastening them and pulling them down until he’s left in nothing but his boxer briefs. his half-hardened cock bulges through his boxers, and the sight has me grinding down into the mattress.

he’s gonna ruin me.

“your turn, sweetheart.” he gives me barely any chance to do the work myself, his hands pulling my sweater over my head.

i push my staticky hair over my shoulder, lifting my hips and allowing him to pull my jeans off of my legs.

i’m sat clad in a black bra and mismatch panties, but under his gaze, i find no reason to be embarrassed that i’m not wearing something sexier.

“beautiful.” he murmurs, as though not telling me, but acknowledging it to himself.

i scoot further up the mattress, allowing him the space to crawl to me. his hands and knees sink into the soft surface as he comes to hover above me, capturing my lips with his.

one hand steadies himself as the other explores my body, grazing over my breasts as it runs down my chest. my body shudders in response and i can feel him smirk into the kiss, his thumb rubbing over the padding that covers my peaked nipples.

i yearn to feel his skin against mine, the heat of our bodies mingling; pushing me to arch my back as i slide my hands underneath to unclasp my bra.

he draws back as i slide the straps down my arms before flinging the garment onto the floor.

my nipples pebble against the frigid air, goosebumps littering my body, and i breathe heavily under Jamie’s stare, mentally urging him to do something.

“you’re fucking perfect.” he growls, dipping down to latch onto my breast. his lips close around the stiffened bud, his warm tongue circling as he sucks, and a cry of pleasure echoes off the walls as my head tips back, burrowing further into the pillow behind me.

“Jamie.” my back arches toward him, desperate underneath his touch.

he pulls away with a wet pop, kissing across my sternum and over to the other side while his fingers come to pinch and pull at the nipple he just abandoned.

“i need you.” i breathe out, voice cracking as my hands bury into his hair, pulling him back up to look at me.

“yeah?” he teases. his touch slides down my abdomen until he reaches to waistband of my panties, and as soon as i nod in permission, his fingers are slipping past the elastic band; dipping low into my wetness.

my eyes roll back as he glides his middle finger through my folds, using my slick as lubricant to circle my swollen clit.

“so wet for me.” he groans, his face burying in my neck as his lip find their place against my throat once more. “i could slide into you right now, don’t even need any foreplay.”

i moan, my hips rolling against him as he slips one finger into me, his thumb replacing to continue the contact against my clit.

“but i’m still gonna make you come on my fingers.” he states, curling the finger inside me to push against the spongey spot that makes my toes curl. “then i’m gonna make you scream on my cock. gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

he slips a seconds finger into me, providing me with the familiar pleasurable stretch as the ever growing knot in my stomach tightens further and further.

“Jamie, i’m gonna-” i can’t even finish my sentence, my jaw dropping slack as he finds the sweet spot just behind my ear.

“you gonna make a mess on my fingers?” my abdomen tightens as i clench around his fingers, my eyes squeezing shut as i whimper his name. “taking ‘em so well, like such a good girl.”

and just like that, the knot snaps, his fingers continuing their pace as he rides out my orgasm.

he pulls his head back, watching as my face scrunches in satisfaction, my breath catching in my throat as my hips stutter.

“so pretty when you come for me.” he mumbles, pulling his fingers out of my panties as i come down from my high.

my eyes flutter open, my blurry vision focusing as i watch him lick his fingers clean of my release.

my hands fly down to the waistband of his boxers, tugging recklessly.

“please.” i cry and he smiles sultrily, knocking my hands away in order to replace them with his own.

he pushes his boxers down, kicking them off his legs and the bed. his erection presses between us, his tip red and glistening with precum.

his fingers hook into the sides of my panties, pulling them down my legs and tossing them to the side.

“i need you.” i purr, my hand wrapping around his base and causing a shiver to wrack his body.

he moans, leaning over to rummage in his bedside table as i slowly pump his length. the foil packet in his hand is ripped open with his teeth before he shoves my hand away, rolling the condom down his shaft.

my legs spread even wider as he positions himself between them, sliding his cock through my wetness.

my body convulses slightly as his tip drags across my sensitive clit; and at my reaction, he smirks, repeating his actions and making me whimper.

“please,” i beg, “don’t tease me.”

he enters me with shallow strokes, taking his time to make sure i’m throughly stretched out and ready for him.

my legs clamp around his waist, my hips rolling up to meet his thrusts.

“so tight,” he sighs, his head tipping back as i bite my lip to hold in my sounds. “like you were made for me.”

as soon as he’s completely inside me, he pulls almost entirely out before pumping back in, his hand sprawling across my lower stomach to apply a light pressure.

“Jamie!” i squeak as his tip continues to hit against my g-spot with each thrust, my hands flying up to clutch at his back.

my nails dig into his skin, surely leaving crescent indentations in his pale skin.

“that’s right, pretty girl.” his voice is tight and strained, barely heard over the squelching sounds of his dick inside of my wet pussy. “scream my name.”

with each roll of his hips, his pelvis brushes against my puffy clit, my body shaking with pleasure as he fucks into me.

“feels so good.” i shudder out, craning my neck to pepper kisses against his shoulder and throat. “don’t stop.”

his pace quickens, and after my first release, my second is rapidly approaching, the pressure building in my stomach.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last.” he gruffs out, his hand slipping down from my stomach to my clit, rubbing in figure eights.

“i’m so close.” i tell him breathily, my toes curling as i clench around him.

“shit, shit, shit.” his hips stutter, his thrusts growing faster and sloppier as he chases his high.

“Jamie!” my back arches, holding my breath as my legs begin to shake around him, the pressure in my abdomen quickly releasing as i come around his cock.

my vision goes white behind my eyelids while he curses, spilling out into the condom as he continues to fuck me through our releases.

“you’re fucking perfect.” he grumbles, his weight dropping onto me as we both come down from our orgasms.

the room is silent besides the sound of our heavy breaths, and we lay there for a moment in quiet bliss.

“i love the way you whimper my name from your pretty little lips when you come.” he breaks the silence, rolling off of me.

a hiss leaves my lips as he slides out of me, sensitivity in overdrive after two orgasms.

“i love you.” i whisper, turning my head to gauge his reaction at my admission.

a warm smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparking with joy as he leans in to kiss me, “i love you too.”

unlike the last, this kiss is gentle and sweet, dripping with our aforementioned love, rather than lust.

“let’s clean you up.” he murmurs, rising from the bed.

he pulls his boxers back on, helping me into his t-shirt before he retreats from the room. when he reappears, he holds a wet washcloth.

kneeling between my spread legs, he swipes the washcloth through my folds, cleaning me of my own cum, and my hips buck up at the sensation against my overworked clit. he chuckles at my involuntary reaction, setting the washcloth in his hamper before helping me back into a clean pair of his boxers.

i stand to the side, my arms hugging my body as he changes his sheets, throwing the old ones in the washer and replacing them with fresh powder blue ones.

it’s only seven in the evening, but exhaustion plagues my body, forcing out a yawn, and he peers down at me with loving eyes.

“nap time?” he questions and i nod sleepily, humming in agreement.

he guides me back to the bed, tucking me in before he climbs into his side. his arm wraps around me, pulling me against him under the blanket, and a lazy smile gathers on my face as he cuddles into me.

he presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck before burying his nose into my hair, sighing in contentment.

the room is quiet, aiding me in my efforts to fall asleep; all the way up until i hear footsteps against the wooden floors outside the bedroom, my brows furrowing at the sound.

“is that…?” my question is quickly answered when the bedroom door flies open, revealing a hyper Trevor.

“yo, Jimbo, tree looks good!” the tanned boy grins, bouncing happily in the doorway before his sights lock on his best friend and i.

his eyes grow wide, his mouth dropping into an ‘o’ shape before he smirks, “FINALLY!”

#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale blurb #jamie drysdale smut #anaheim ducks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl smut #faithlynn’s writings <3

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ginnysgraffiti · 4 days

Text

jealousy, unprotected sex, violence, anger, cursing, fingering, 18+

&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn

could you blame yourself?

no, not really.

not the way you claimed it, at least.

you always placed so much trust and respect in the visions that paul witnessed in his dreams, for they usually concerned the holy war or future events not clear to his complete awareness yet.

however, you never expected something like this.

you couldn't say exactly if it was due to the fact that you and paul had established an increasingly stronger connection and intimacy, but you were sure that it was definitely because of other factors.

paul and his intuitions had been (disturbingly) accurate for weeks, and your boyfriend was even able to see your sexual needs in his visions.

you liked it, yes. it turned you on like hell, and you knew it had the exact effect on him.

you recognized paul's gaze when he had visions of that kind, you glimpsed it through his hungry eyes and you experienced it when his strong hands destroyed your body.

you lived with a certain constant tension, but your inner self knew that you just wanted that moment to come.

"shut that fuck up! take my cock like the slut you are!!" paul's hand slapped your butt, causing a bitter tear to fall from your face.

this excited him greatly and with his other arm he twisted your legs around his waist, making you arch your back to welcome his wet and warm dick as deeply as you could.

you didn't know if it was your fault, but paul was so furious he would have swallowed you alive.

"look at me in my eyes, damn it! or do you want me to call him, uh? to call your beloved feyd rautha and make him fuck you like i do!?"

"paul-"

yet another thrust of his hips brought your hip bones to clash painfully with each other.

you left a loud and pleading moan but his quick fingers choked you in time and reduced it to a pathetic strangled scream.

"who's the one who touches herself while feyd's name slips down her tongue?! her damn fucking tongue! uh?!"

"p-...paul it was just a-a...a vision-"

deadly move.

the bed creaked and for a moment you imagined the springs surrendering to its bloody rhythm.

your boyfriend grabbed your hair mercilessly, almost detaching them from the roots, while his cock was destroying your inner walls beyond limit.

you were crying, but you were just choking on your own moans and sobs, like a sinful child.

it was just a vision, in fact...but now he was going so rough and raw that crying more made you feel real slut.

your sight was still granted to you, even if your retinas were caged in tears as hot as spice.

you could see him, see your boyfriend taking your pussy with a heavenly expression on your face, perhaps the one you wore in his dirty visions.

his mouth was wide open with pleasure and his eyes closed with excitement. he moved his hips for his own burning pleasure, making you aching, sore and wet all in.

"I don't know what would turn me on more, maybe you really deserve to end up in his maniacal arms! you would regret it of course, but it would be too late to go back!!"

you wished somebody could hear you for your own sake.

the wet and sticky tip of his cock was roaming roughly inside you, but the initial pleasure had reduced you to an unbearable burning sensation. you could feel your chest confiding with every sob, but his hands would travel again, landing on your throat already full of purple, almost black bruises.

"you're so soaked, you little whore. you don't even deserve it, on my sheets!!" he groaned, his own anger causing every vein to pump on the smooth skin of his neck, making him there red with anger every time the jugular pumped before your eyes.

he grunted like an animal too proud for the zoo. he wanted to destroy you until you couldn't stand up anymore.

humiliation.

you could feel his tip reaching the deepest places. you knew that paul didn't care about protections in these extreme cases (even if it was the first time he was so out of it), thus implying that he would even risk pregnancy to satisfy his dick to the point of nausea.

"you hold on too well-"

you held the sheets for dear life when you felt him pushing away but replacing his sex with one of his agile fingers between your sores.

you gasped as he pecked at all the soft spots of yours. he knew too damn well you were too vulnerable and breakable when it came to his experienced hands.

at the same time you knew how much effort would be required of him to make you suffer precisely, hoping he would get tired.

"so fucking sensitive-"

he inserted another finger, moving at an exorbitant speed. you could feel your wetness even reaching his wrist.

ashamed again.

"p-paul-...i beg-"

he entered you using his thumb to reach your clit.

you moaned as he lapped at your walls, sliding his sizzling tongue into the heat.

he raised his lips sucking greedily, sliding two fingers in once more.

his grunts made everything wetter.

your body came moaning and shaking, your eyes rolling back.

you whimpered as you felt his cock filling you up, preventing you from coming any further.

"p-...paul, you know you're...the only one i love! a vision doesn't mean anything! i-...i- had always loved you, you're the boy of my life, the one who always had all his trust posted about me. so i ask you praying...believe me..."

your boyfriend moved one inch, hitting your weakest and most stimulated point.

you could feel a slight gag rising in your sore and dry throat as the last bit of lucidity left your body in a deep sleep.

[...]

when you wake up a strong pang pierced your forehead, making the room square and moving around you.

paul was curled up on you, not completely resting on you so that his weight didn't give you even more trouble regaining consciousness.

his white and puffy cheek was resting on your bare breasts, a hint of saliva at the sides of his red and swollen mouth.

you couldn't move so you didn't even try, until you felt something holding you back.

paul was lightly sleeping thanks to a bene gesserit relaxation technique, you could now sense that he was completely alert and attentive to your needs.

his delicate hand was hugging your wrist, listening to your heartbeat since you had probably passed out.

you knew that in the end, he loved you more than anything on that planet.

you were his duchess already.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée x you #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #&. PAUL ATREIDES #PAUL x reader

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s-4pphics · 9 months

Text

let the rain sing. 4 (a.a)

wc;cw: 7k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap(oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi<3, slight angst yall know the deal, brief mentions of familial death, cigarettes, nasty sloppy sex MDNI, dubcon(they sipped a little), couch action :p, eating out no taco bell(pussy and ass), tribbing, meantop!abby, strength kink, lots of dirty talk, breeding kink😳😳, mult. orgasms, BREEDING STRAP(idk how they work im sowwie if it’s not accurate :/), slight d!p, body fluids(spit, fake and real cum LOL), UNPREPPED ANAL PLS DONT DO THIS, dumbification, degradation kink, pain kink it’s me duh, hair pulling, slapping, slight mirror sex??

The holiday season passed, and you were standing on Abby’s porch with your tail between your legs and exhaustion weighing you down.

You’ve never been… nervous to see Abby. Whenever you arrived at her home, you were eager and desperate to be in her presence so she could take care of you, but now you were nauseas at the thought of using her that way. And it was all your fault.

You haven’t spoken to her since the Christmas party. You didn’t know what to say. How do you approach somebody that you think hates you after an encounter like that? She went from rightfully kicking you out of her home to rubbing your pussy through your pants without care. In front of your entire family despite your mutual rules, and you didn’t even care enough to stop her. It almost felt like you switched places for the night: she was impulsive and irresponsible, and you allowed her to be, just like how she used to when she handled your demanding attitude. You wished she touched you more before she respectfully departed your parents’ home.

You wanted to speak with Abby properly. You never thought you would be willing to sacrifice your kryptonite once you found it, but she didn’t deserve to be dragged along and solve your problems anymore. Your heart still hurts at the thought of making her cry and leaving her to it. You’re such an idiot.

You called her before you showed up, but she didn’t answer. You don’t blame her for being distant, but she deserves an in-person explanation as to why you should never see her again. You’re a trainwreck and you need to deal with that alone, no matter how exhausting the journey would be.

The sun was setting when you finally exited your car knocked on her door, looking down at your scuffed boots that dug into the melting ice on her porch. You wanted to check to see if her key was still in the same spot under her rug, but you refrained. Your heart filled when you noticed her unique little Christmas decorations still dangling from her door and windows. She loved her flowers, for sure.

When the door yanked open, your heart dropped, and your stomach did somersaults.

Abby was dolled up in a red dress under a black trench coat with matching red nails and shoes, sparkling jewelry, and her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail that cascaded down the back of her neck. She looked fucking gorgeous, and your throat went dry. She leaned against the frame as she eyed you, shock evident on her face.

Don’t fold, don’t fold, don’t fold!

You watched her surprise swiftly shift into confusion and… aggravation? Your heart sunk further into the floor, but you held her gaze.

“What’re you doing here?”

Her voice made your heart squeeze painfully; You missed it terribly, regardless of how stiff she sounded.

You took a shuddering breath, “… Hi, Abby.”

She ignored your greeting, “What are you doing here?” She sounded like she was in a rush, and you wanted to cry.

You swallowed harshly, “I-I know you’re probably busy, but I’m— “

“Look, I can’t deal with this right now. I have somewhere to be,” she quietly huffed with agitation like someone would hear, adjusting the shining watch on her wrist to check the time. You could feel her pulling away.

It felt like every cell in your body was dying, your brain fighting on its last legs to conjure up a reply to get her to stay and speak with you. You would’ve dropped down to your knees if it wasn’t freezing. Is this how she felt whenever you would shut her down to fuck? Nausea came in waves.

“I don’t,” you weren’t shaking from the cold. “I don’t wanna do anything. I just wanna… apologize.”

She rolled her eyes at you, “Keep it. Are you done? I gotta leave soon.”

You were motionless, your hands squeezed into fists in your coat pockets as tears jerked in your eyes and lips quivered. Don’t fucking cry!

Your brain didn’t fight hard enough because she shook her head when you didn’t comment, reaching for the door to slam it in your face. It forced you into action, shoving your arm between the open space to stop the wood from shutting completely. You couldn’t control the panic you felt at the thought of her hating you. You don’t remember the last time you cried like this.

“A-Abby, please, I’m so sorry, I can’t,” your heaving picked up as you sobbed to her. “I can’t stop thinking a—bout you and I feel awful and I know you hate me, and you s-should but’m so sorr—y. Please, I can’t— “

Abby seemed unsure through your watery gaze, the tensity in her face dropping slowly as she gauged you. You felt her wrap a light hand around your bicep as you broke down, ushering you inside with soft shushes.

You listened and followed her guide to the couch, taking a seat as you cried out your apologies to her. Your wails overpowered the volume of her coos; She was too fucking nice.

She stood over your sitting form, her soft, rose-scented hands holding your chin as she massaged the back of your pounding head. “Shhh, stop crying, stop.”

Your eyes met hers, and your heart burned, “M’sorry— “

She sighed, “We’re gonna… we’re gonna talk, okay?”

You nodded, sniffing harshly. You didn’t deserve her hospitality, and you felt guilty accepting her courtesy. Had you really been so heartless to such a gentle soul?

She hummed, “Want some water?”

You didn’t answer.

She took your silence as approval and made her way to the kitchen.

You calmed down. Slightly. Abby was able to remove your coat and boots without fuss; You were too busy blowing your nose with the soft tissues she handed to you.

Abby sat next to you on the couch, earrings, coat, and heels removed and slung on the floor near the coffee table. She allowed you to take some sips of your water before she spoke, voice as soft as ever.

“Okay to talk?”

You nodded, setting your glass down on the decorative table and using your sleeves to wipe your still wet face.

You took a deep breath. A few deep breaths, and she let you.

But when you finally opened your mouth to speak, her phone rang.

Both your eyes darted towards the coffee table; a contact named DON’T ANSWER read across the screen. Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes gliding between her and her device. You’ve never seen Abby have a negative reaction towards anyone except you; Who did she not want to answer?

She sighed heavily, reaching towards her phone to mute the ringing. A few moments of silence passed, and the call ended, but the caller popped up again.

She tsked, reaching for her device with agitation. She answered it, annoyance evident in her tone.

“I'm not coming. Stop calling me.”

Your ears perked with intrigue. Was she meant to meet with someone tonight? She sounded so upset.

Some distant ramblings came through her earpiece before she shot back at the person she was speaking to, “I don’t care. It’s not up to you!”

The person got louder with her, the voice masculine. You saw Abby roll her eyes as she listened to the shouts. Why was she getting screamed at?

She spat nastily at the man before hanging up. “Fuck you. Don’t call me anymore tonight.”

She turned her phone off and tossed it onto the longue chair near the TV before turning back to you, the flame in her eyes slowly extinguishing.

“Sorry,” she breathed awkwardly, massaging her temples.

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize, I’m in your home. You can do what you want.”

She hummed at you, her expression suddenly distant. She wasn’t looking at you, but at the hand that rested on your knee. Why was that making your body hot?

“I really came at a bad time, huh?” You huffed.

“Mhm,” she answered before backtracking. “I hate talking to him.”

You spoke before you could think, “Who was it?”

“My ex.”

Your heart frosted over.

“H-Husband?”

She nodded slowly, like it brought her shame to admit. You don’t know why that made your stomach churn with something red. Something fiery that you never felt. How long were they still in contact? You knew they weren’t on good terms due to Abby’s past dismissal of your questions about their past, but now you were really confused about where they stood.

“D’you still talk to him?”

“You interrogating me?” You stiffened at her tone, darkly sarcastic. Fuck, stop fucking up!

You shook your head incessantly, “Not at all! Just… yeah, I don’t know why I asked that.”

“What an honest lawyer,” you saw her lips curl upward into a smirk, and you exhaled a sheepish laugh, your hands squeezing into fists on your lap. She’s fucking gorgeous.

“Not a lawyer yet.”

She bit playfully, “Gonna be soon.”

You made a noise in agreement before silence passed between you.

Abby’s voice made you look up. “We don’t see each other often, my ex and I. Not anymore at least.”

“… Oh. What were you guys going to do tonight?”

Abby shrugged, “Get drunk. Fuck probably.”

You probably looked calm on the outside, but you felt every organ in your body burn like fire at her admission. You were stiff, your nails digging into your palms as grounding. Why are you getting so fucking pissed over them communicating? The fuck?

You couldn’t help yourself, “How come?”

“It’s winter. We’re lonely and miss our daughter.”

You felt like you were dunked into a bottomless tub of ice water. Your brain went into overdrive and your throat closed like you were going to cry again.

She shook her head like nothing mattered, “Not the best coping mechanism, but.”

“A-Abby— “

She cut you off, tone hushed, “We shouldn’t meet anymore, but he just… gets it. Gets me and what I’m still going through. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get rid of him no matter how much I hate his guts.”

You sat there and listened. This is the most personal conversation you’ve had with Abby since the first time you met. You finally met her eyes, waves of emotion flowing through them like ocean waves; You were here, and you wanted to listen to her. I’m sorry for shutting you down in the past. Please talk to me.

You placed an encouraging hand on her bare shoulder, and she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed. She was so tired; You recognized exhausted stiffness from anywhere.

“He’s the only… person I have, honestly. It’s really weird,” she huffed a laugh, rubbing her nose. “We had her alone, we raised her alone, I buried her without him, and now we just… drag each other along in our grief. She died such a long time ago and we’ve made no progress, but I can’t… I can’t leave him.”

You could hear the pain in her voice as she spoke, and it tore you to pieces. You can’t imagine what the two of them went through after such a grave loss; You knew it was your parents’ biggest fear. You had no idea how to talk her through this wave she was experiencing, but both your hands flew down to grab hers in her lap. You rubbed and squeezed them tight, hoping she would accept your presence again. You have me! I’m here, too. I'm sorry I wasn't before, but I am now.

She looked down at your locked fingers, shocked at the gesture. She released a shuddered breath and squeezed back, grabbing your hand like you would slip away.

She continued, her eyes glossy, “We always meet up around this time of year. For anything. For sex, to cry together. We could spend hours yelling and screaming at each other and then walk out of each other’s lives like nothing happened, just to do it all over again. I’m so… fucking tired.”

You shook your head in understanding. She needed comfort, some solace, a distraction just as much as you did, even if it’s only for a second. You wish you knew a better way to appease her emotional needs, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what to say, so you did what you should’ve done a long time ago.

She confided in you, and you listened to all of it.

Abby pulled out an expensive bottle of wine some time ago. You couldn’t stop smiling.

Abby’s laugh was music to your ears, “I can’t believe I fucking did that!”

You shook your head as you beamed at her, “You don’t know how shook I was! I thought I was hallucinating! I don’t know what my cousin put in that fucking blunt, but I was on my ass the rest of the night.”

You and Abby were facing each other, knees touching on the couch, in hysterics about the… events at the Christmas party. She tossed her expensive watch somewhere earlier, her posture content as she leaned back against the arm of her couch. You thought your first conversation after your argument would be much more unnerving, but you were both at ease and light. And a little tipsy.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been at her house, but you didn’t want to leave. You’re so glad you came to see her.

Her hands flew to cover her face, her face burning red, “I’m sorry. Aghh, I fuckin’ cringe. Jesus.”

You shrugged, “Great memories.”

She hummed in agreement, her head tilting as her eyes wandered all over your face. Your face warmed, “You look pretty with your hair up.”

She raised a brow at you, “Oh?”

“Um… yes,” you replied sheepishly.

“I think that’s the first compliment you’ve given me,” she joked, but that made your heart hurt.

“You’re really pretty, Abby,” you replied instantly, tone quiet as your heartbeat picked up. Her expression softened when she called out your name.

You shook your head, eyes dropping to your hands in your lap, “I'm really sorry for yelling at you.”

Her hand came up to lift your chin, “Hey. I’m not upset anymore. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

You nodded, eyes flickering between her mouth and eyes. She whispered your name again, thumb caressing your face.

“Yes?”

She whispered, inching forward slightly, “… How much trouble would I get in for kissing you right now?”

Your tummy instantly swirled, and you grinned, “I dunno. A pretty good amount, I think.”

She moved closer, tongue rolling over her lips as she eyed your mouth.

Your breath shuddered, hand coming up to grab her wrist. You whispered as your face burned, “Kiss me?”

She snorted. Her nose brushed against yours, a smirk plastered on her face as she sniffed, “Yeah?”

Your core squeezed in approval. Abby released the hold she had on your face, strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You followed, straddling her lap, arms looping around her neck. You could see the skirt of her dress riding up from beneath you when she stretched her legs out. She smelled like roses and Barolo.

“Hi,” she whispered with a grin.

You smiled back at her, “Hi.”

Her lips brushed against yours, “Kiss me.”

You cheesed, mischievously pecking her cheek, and she stared at you blankly. You giggled and pinched her squishy cheeks.

“Kiss me for real,” she scolded lightly.

You snorted, poking the space where her dimples are, “Mmm, nah. changed my mind, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t wanna kiss me?” Her voice lowered.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, but you shook your head at her anyway. Your defenses weakened when her grip tightened on your hips and head dropped, planting soft kisses down the expanse of your neck. You could feel her nails tickling the sensitive skin on your back as she softly caressed you. Your eyes went glossy.

She mumbled against your neck, “Missed you.”

Your heart fluttered. You breathed, “Really?”

“Mhm, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Doesn’t matter how much you get on my fucking nerves,” her hands slowly crawled up your waist.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

How does she speak her mind so easily?! “Miss—missed you too.”

“Missed me touching you like this?”

You nodded quickly, and her tongue swiped up the side of your neck. You breathed heavily in her ear, eager to touch her. You pulled back so you could see her face, friskiness dissipating when you connected your lips. She purred in your mouth, lips molding against yours as you grinded on top of her, her red lipstick transferring onto your mouth.

You grabbed her soft cheeks in your hands, gasping when her hands slid down to grab your ass through your jeans. Her tongue licked into your mouth, and your toes curled in your socks. You missed kissing her so badly.

She was kissing you stupid, tugging the hair at the back of your head as she sucked your bottom lip. You shakily brought your hands up to her ponytail to undo the elastic, and her locks fell down her back like liquid. Your arms wrapped around her neck to kiss her deeper, pulling tightly at her soft strands.

She moaned into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, “Need some head?”

You nails dug into her shoulders, “Y-You don’t have t— “

She rolled her eyes, “It’s not for you, it’s for me. I was just tryna be polite.”

Well.

“But I wan—“

Her hand came up to grab your chin. Fuck, you love when she does that. “Don’t care what you want actually. Lay down.”

You scurried off her like she was on fire, lying flat on the couch and ripping your sweater over your head, tossing it into the pile on the floor. Abby stood as you unbuttoned her jeans. You secretly watched as she unzipped her dress and allowed it to fall down her body. She was completely bare underneath. Your eyes followed the thin trail of hair that led down to her wet cunt, and it made you hot… in more ways than one; She was on a mission tonight, for sure.

You shoved your jealousy down; She didn’t owe you anything, especially loyalty. You stared down at your busy hands.

You kicked your jeans off, a sock clumsily catching in your pant leg before they hit the floor. You were not prepared for spontaneous sex at all; One lonesome weed sock, panties with chocolate bars on them, and a gray lounge bra.

You awkwardly scratched your ear and waited for Abby to move, but she didn’t. You looked up at her and noticed her just… staring at your torso. Her expression was unreadable as she took your body in, but you were about to die from her searing ogle. Your face was torched, even more so when she brought a gentle hand up, hooked her middle and index finger into the band of your bra.

Her eyes bore into yours, silently asking for permission, and you nodded. She bit her lip, slowly raising the elastic band up your chest until your breasts dropped out. She played with the two of them, dark red nails digging into the soft skin, pinching at your nipples. You couldn’t stop squirming, watching her hand move on your body. You lifted your bra over your head and laid the bundled fabric over the back of the couch.

“Turn over, baby. Wanna see something,” she barely whispered, patting your thigh encouragingly.

You listened, flipping onto your hands and knees as she climbed on the couch behind you. You sighed happily when she massaged your ass in both hands, rubbing and pulling at your covered cheeks. You peered over your shoulder to watch her pull your sticky panties to the side. She was eyeing your pussy like she wanted to swallow you whole before her eyes flickered an inch up. She was staring at…

Oh. Oh.

You jokingly snarked at her, “Find whatchu lookin’ for?”

Her eyes pierced through yours before she slapped the fuck out of your ass. Your body jerked forward at the force, eyes squeezing shut and groaning at the seering sting. Your head dropped on the arm of the couch.

She sneered at you, “I still feel some typa way. Be nice.”

You gasped out, “M’so— “

“You’re sorry,” She squealed out mockingly. “I know. Be still.”

She yanked your panties down your thighs, “Put your head down.”

You dropped your head onto your crossed arms in front of you. Her hand rubbed down your spine to deepen your arch, pulling your hips farther up.

“Hold it open for me, baby.”

You whimpered and reached down between your legs, spreading the drippy folds of your cunt to expose your clit. You heard her curse behind you before you felt slow massages on your clit. They were so delicate, almost ticklish, and it made you shiver.

Your walls squeezed down and you heard her moan behind you. She rubbed a bit faster, the soft, squishy noises from your cunt filling the room. You tried to push back on her fingers, but she harshly dug her nails into your hip to hold you still, pulling her fingers away from you.

“Abby, please— “

She ignored you, prying your lips apart with her thumbs. Her breath hit your cunt as she slurred, “You trust me?”

You nodded incessantly, “Yeah, baby, trust you, fuck, I trust you— “

Her lips sucked around your clit, and you bucked back on her face with force. She wasted no time, shoving two of her fingers inside you and curling them. She poked and prodded at your walls as she flicked your throbbing bud and holy fuck, you missed her so fucking bad—

You couldn’t help the noises that left your mouth when she hit your spot dead on, your walls milking her fingers with eagerness. You cried out her name as your orgasm pulled from deep within your gut, your fingers curling into fists into her couch cushions. The sounds your cunt made were becoming louder as your moans crescendo, your hips moving on their own accord to get her deeper inside you.

Her tongue slowed on your clit, slowly licking up towards your entrance and… passed your entrance. She moved up, up, and her wet muscle swiped over your ass—

A sharp gasp shot through you, your head whipping around to face her. On any other occasion, she would’ve halted everything and checked in on you, but her fingers didn’t stop. Her thrusts were harsh and unrelenting, her eyes cutting through you, “Fuckin’ trust me, right?”

You sobbed when she slapped your still burning cheek, nodding your consent with tears streaming down your face. She didn’t hesitate to lick over your hole, her tongue sliding back and forth over the puckered entrance.

“Abby, fuckfuckfuck, oh fuck— “

She hummed against your hole and your head dropped on the cushions completely, using your bent elbows as leverage to fuck back onto her face.

She mumbled nastily against you, “Just needa be slutted out, baby? Yeah?”

You could only whine and sob in reply before the strong squeezes of your orgasm built and built. You were right fucking there you just needed her to—

Her tongue shoved inside you, and your body seized and tensed under the pressure of your orgasm. It wracked through your body in waves as you wailed into the pillows beneath you, both sets of walls contracting through your pleasure. Your cunt milked her fingers with urgency, your juices dripping out of your entrance and down Abby’s wrist. She tongued you through the aftershocks.

She slowly brought you back down as your pulses slowed, planting a kiss on the back of your thigh before pulling out. Exhaustion took over your body as she helped you get onto your back, your head propped up on the pillows behind you. You kicked your dangling panties off and allowed her to lift your leg over her shoulder. She climbed on top of you, straddling your resting thigh. You looked up at her and… the large vein in her biceps made you shiver.

“A-Abby?”

She grabbed your tit, “Hm.”

You whimpered, “Are you a gym rat?”

She snorted, a grin spreading across her pretty face as she massaged the soft skin. “Errr… yes? When I wanna be. Why do you ask?”

Throw me across the room! You eyed her bulging vein, “Nothin’.”

She smirked down at you, “Mhm.”

… Did she just flex her bicep what the fuck—

You didn’t even have a chance to think before her pussy rubbed up against yours, and nearly cried when you saw your sopping cunts connect, sighs of satisfaction leaving your mouths when your clits bumped up against each other, bonded by strings of slick. You grabbed her thigh for support, digging your nails into her soft skin as her grinds increased in pace.

Your throbbing bud jerked with each pass of her hips. You did everything in your power to keep your eyes open so you could watch her: her head was tossed back with her lip between her teeth, her defined stomach tensing and she fucked you. She looked so desperate to cum, to feel so good that she forgets everything. She kept taking and taking like you never allowed her to, and you never wanted it to end.

“Your pussy feels s’good, shit,” she grinded down on you harder as she gazed at the ceiling. “Gonna make me cum— “

“Cum on me, Abby? Please cum on my pussy?” You whimpered up at her as your eyes grew heavy, and she slumped over the pillows, strong arms holding her up as she used you to fuck herself. She was getting louder, and you were squeezing as your second orgasm approached. Her pussy was hitting you right where you needed, right on your clit and you were about to—

You saw a screen flash out the corner of your eye as your device blared, and the drop of your heart matched the tight grip of your pussy.

Abby was close, and your dad was calling.

Abby was too deep in her pleasure to notice as she begged you to cum with her, grabbing at your tits and yanking your nipples. Your pleasure kept rising and your phone wouldn’t stop fucking ringing—

“Fuck, baby, oh god, m’cumming!—“

Abby’s scream sent you off, your eyes rolling back, and your core squeezing with all you had to give. She was fucking you so hard through your euphoria, crying your name as you did the same. She was hitting your clit so good, you couldn’t breathe.

Your ears were ringing so loud that you couldn’t hear the second call coming in, and you didn’t care. Your hips bucked as much as they could to meet hers, helping her ride out her intense orgasm. The harder you pushed up, the more you could feel her pussy pulsating. It sent another wave of pleasure through you.

The feeling eventually subsided, the contractions in your cunt easing into light jerks. Abby caught her breath before moving off and plopping on top of you as she breathed heavily in your ear. You brought a hand up to rub her scalp, twirling her hair around your index finger as her scent infiltrated your senses. Your phone was finally quiet.

“Can I fuck your ass?”

Her heavy exhale made your spine bend. You could feel her smile against your neck.

You were about to pass out, and it wasn’t from your insomnia.

Abby carried you upstairs to her bed, and eventually got your legs over her shoulders while she lubricated her deep blue strap… with a slit at the incredibly fat tip? She never used this one with you before. It was veiny, curved, and thick; How the hell was that going to fit in your ass!

You knew one of her darkest secrets was cumming inside of somebody, but you didn’t know she meant it. You couldn’t stop thinking about all the times she moaned about cumming inside you. Knocking you up. She was really going to—

“Stop staring at my dick, it’s rude,” she said blankly.

Your eyes flickered up to meet hers, “Sorry.”

She snickered, “I’m kidding, relax.”

How could you relax when she was jerking off in front of you! Her hands are so pretty on her dick, and you could cry right now because of it!

You squealed when she slapped it on your clit, the silicone getting drenched in her flavored lube and your slick. Your pussy squeezed in anticipation; She was about to destroy your cunt and you couldn’t think, holy shit, you missed her so badly—

She breathed eagerly, “You know what to do, baby.”

You nodded, reaching down to hold your pussy open for her. She lined her tip up at your entrance, “Need this dick?”

“Fuck yes— “

She cooed, “Yeah? Want me?”

You looked up at her, your head bobbing up and down like you were entranced. You wanted her so much. Too much. The look of pride in her eyes was going to stay in your memory forever.

“Fucking say it,” she spat.

“Want you inside me, baby, please fuck me!”

She popped the tip in, and you moaned as pleasurable pain rushed through you. She took her time easing into you, allowing you to feel every ridge of her dick against your walls. The veins in the silicone were catching on your walls and it made you squeeze down tight.

She paused and kissed your ankle, “Ease up, baby. C’mon.”

“Can’help it, fuck, splittin’ me open,” your tongue felt so large in your mouth.

“Fuck, missed wrecking this pussy,” she moaned out, staring down at the way your walls choked her length.

She pushed an inch deeper, and you nearly shouted.

She smirked, “Right there?”

You were drooling onto your chest as you craned up to watch how you connected. She was pressed right up against the spot that made you see stars, and you felt the beginnings of your orgasm stirring in your gut.

She pushed inside until she was fully submerged in your juices, your slick coating the entire toy when she pulled out, only to fuck back into you again. She stretched you out until you were grabbing at her hip, trying to pull her deeper into you. She wrapped her arms around both of your calves and drilled in your guts, only pulling out a few inches before shoving back in.

The power of her thrusts was causing the flowery headboard to bang up against the wall, the soggy noises of your cunt and squeals of pleasure filling the room. She was battering your pussy completely, and you couldn’t do anything to stop her.

“Pussy’s pushing me out,” she garbled with a limp tongue. “Feel good, baby? Can’t take it?”

You couldn’t find the strength to respond, nails digging into her soft blankets as she transported you to another dimension, sparkles and glitter exploding behind your eyelids as your unannounced orgasm shook your spirit, “Can feel you cummin’, shit.”

Her voice was muffled from the ringing in your ears. You could barely register her pulling out and grabbing her girth, quickly rubbing her wet tip on your clit to rub you through your orgasm. You felt speckles of droplets land on your ass and the covers beneath you, eyes crossed in your skull and the taste of copper in your mouth from biting your lip too hard.

She didn’t let you recover before she released your legs, pinning them down to your chest by the back of your knees, nearly folding you in half and shoving back into your wetness with a disgusting noise.

She bounced you on her cock like a weightless ragdoll, your body shifting up her bed with force. She hit so deep whenever she fucked like this. Her tip was nudging your cervix whenever she dug in deep, the pain plunging into you like a knife as tears filled your eyes and pleasure sizzled all the way down to your toes.

“Gonna cum in this fuckin’ pussy, oh my god— “

You couldn’t help the babbles that came from you, drooly yesyesyesyess’ coming from you, “Yeah, baby? Need me to fill your pussy up?”

You nearly passed out at the thought of her stuffing you, your orgasm built until it crashed into you, snatching the wind in your body as you let out a quiet scream. Your lashes were fluttering, and spit was sliding down your cheek, completely dumb under her.

And then you felt a thin stream of liquid shoot inside your pulsing cunt. You swore you flatlined.

Your orgasm only intensified at the feeling of her creaming inside you, her gross whispers making the hairs on your arms stand, “Gonna knock this slutty cunt up and send you home filthy. Want you drippin’ with it.”

You nodded brainlessly; You’d do whatever she wanted as long as she kept fucking and filling you. Another harsh stream exploded inside you, and your juices sprayed on her lap. You went limp under her, letting her move and toss you around how she pleased. You were getting so fucking tired, but you didn’t want her to stop.

She gave one last deep grind, poking your cervix one last time before pulling out, her gaze dropping to watch her seed spill out of your battered cunt. She pushed your legs down even further, knees nearly hitting your head as she lined her dick up at your ass, “Would marry this pussy, swear to god. It takes dick so good.”

You only released a choked noise in approval; She could have you however she wanted!

Her pretty brow arched cockily, “You like that? Like when I make this pussy mine?”

You shook your head so fast. It’s yours, baby! It’s all yours!

She barely pushed forward, her tip nudging your other entrance, making you squeal, “Is this mine too?”

“Fuck yes, s’yours, baby!”

She popped in, and you sobbed. You need this, you need this, you need her—

Tears ran down to your neck as you cried, her gentle shushes caressing your ear drums like symphonies, “Such a good girl, doing so good for me, just a little more, okay?”

You couldn’t stop moaning at the foreign sensation, “G-Gimme all of it, oh my fuckin’ god—“

“… You sure?”

She paused, only a couple inches inside as she gauged you. The gentle aura you're so used to finally returned as she massaged your thighs comfortingly, and your heart swelled.

You spoke in one breath, “Fuck my ass, Abby, please. S’gonna make me cum again— “

“Tell me if I’m— “

“Please, baby, s’gonna hurt s-so good, gimme— “

“Okay, baby shhh, I gotchu,” she hushed you, quickly grabbing the discarded bottle of lube at your side and squeezing a messy quantity over your pulsating entrance. She tossed it somewhere and pushed in deeper, the burn sending hot shockwaves to your brain. How were you about to cum there’s no way you’re going to cum—

“A-Abby, fuck me, fuckme— “

She was whimpering with you, still pressing in, “Don’t wanna hurt you baby, shit— “

“Fuck me harder, m’so close!”

Your eyes squeezed shut when she pushed the last few inches in, sitting deep in your ass, and you came so hard. You could hear her moaning with you as she grinded you out. The cum that sat deep in your cunt was pulsing out of you with each clench, dripping down to your filled ass and coating her. You forced your eyes open so you could watch her, eyes burning with lust and her toned body drenched in sweat.

She brought a hand down to your pussy and shoved two fingers in, curling and hitting your spot at a vigorous pace. The squelches were so loud over your pleased shouts, and you squirted all over her hand, some droplets splattering on your chest and chin.

She yanked her fingers out to pat and spank your throbbing clit before pushing your legs back up, pulling out slowly before shoving her entire length back into you.

Abby has never been this aggressive during sex, but she was slapping you, fucking you deep and hard, spitting on your face from where she towered over you, and you took all of it like she was paying you. Your ass was rippling on her cock, trying to make space for her cock so it could suck her in deeper. You couldn’t stop squirting, both your cum dripping out of both your holes.

Gonna cum so hard in this ass, oh my fuckin’ god, you feel so good.

It’s mine? Say it’s mine.

Look at that dirty fucking pussy. Nasty cumslut. You love being my fucking worthless whore, don’t you?

Just needa turn that pretty brain off? Yeah? Need me to take care of you? Fuck you stupid?

You were thrown into one long, constant orgasm and she talked you through it. You clawed at her ass and sheets and your own tits to keep yourself grounded but it wasn’t working. You were getting her so wet, a large puddle forming underneath you as your body jerked away from her. But she held you down, made you take what she gave, made you see god. You felt so fucking good that it almost pained you.

You could hear her moans increase in volume, not bothering to pull out as she grinded deep inside you. You knew she was close, riding her harness into completion. You used the only strength you had to turn your head to the side, making eye contact with yourself in her large dresser mirror. You looked fucked up, but you watched yourself cum before staring at Abby’s reflection.

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she bucked into you quickly, her tits and fat on her ass shaking in the mirror. You could hear her whispering makemecummakemecum over and over again, and you shuddered when another spurt of liquid left you.

Cum in my ass, cum in me filled your brain like a mantra.

You fought to keep your eyes open, watching the muscles in her body tighten up before she yelled out, screaming how hard she was cumming and how good your ass sucked her cum in. A line of spit left her mouth and landed on your thigh as she shuddered through her pleasure, and you felt her jizz fill your ass, the second load much larger than the first. It felt so fucking good.

Another orgasm rushed through as you both screamed in pleasure. You tried to meet her grinds, pushing down to get her squirting dick even deeper inside.

Abby dropped your legs and they instantly wrapped around her waist as she fell forward, resting her full weight on you as she rode out her orgasm. Her moans of your name didn’t stop, and it felt like you both were cumming for hours. She filled and filled you like you were milking her dry, draining her completely and it made you cum again. Your arms wrapped around her neck to pull her close, nails digging into the flexing muscles in her back and leaving red trails.

She screamed out a warning of another orgasm right before her body trembled on top of you. Her dick wasn't bursting in you anymore; Why did that make you sad?

Her grinds eventually slowed into twitches as you both came down. She was planting gentle kisses and sucks on your neck, her hands coming down to rub the soreness from your thighs as you massaged her scalp.

You made sure to keep your eyes open so you wouldn’t drift off into dreamland.

After Abby pulled out and cleaned you up, she rummaged through her underwear drawer and pulled out a Marlboro box and lighter.

… Why were you horny again?

Her wet, semi-leaking dick was still strapped around her waist, her now scarred backside facing you as she stuck the orange end between her lips and ignited it. You watched her through the mirror, her body instantly relaxing as she puffed silently. You looked like a cat in heat.

She looked up and stared back at you in the reflection, taking the smoke between her index and middle finger, exhaling around her words.

“What’re you looking at?”

You shrugged and smiled like a ditz. She shook her head at you before sticking the butt in her mouth, undoing the adjusts and stepping out of her dick. She picked it up, eyes flickering awkwardly before throwing it in her hamper. You giggled quietly.

She ashed her cig over her small trash can, before looking at you, “Come shower?”

Your heart pounded in your chest like she didn’t just obliterate your pussy and ass. You consented in silence.

You could hear her laughing as you hobbled to the bathroom, “I coulda carried you, y’know.”

You flipped her off.

After washing, Abby just… held you.

The water was still beating down on the two of you, her head resting on your shoulder as she rubbed your back. And you did the same.

You felt so relaxed, and everything was quiet in your head, the lavender scent of her body wash surrounding the two of you. You could’ve fallen asleep right here.

Her hushed tone surprised you.

“Are you leaving tonight?”

Your heart shredded to pieces at her nervous tone. She sighed in relief at your whisper.

“No, Abby. I’m not.”

You didn’t know what would happen when you returned home, but for now, you relished in her warm embrace as you nodded off onto her shoulder.

You didn’t sleep alone.

OOHHHHH im ovulating LOL

anal whores this one’s for y’all😞😞

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prologue. part one. part two. part three. interlude.

#𓈒∘☁︎let the rain sing☁︎∘𓈒 #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson x you #abby anderson angst #abby anderson au #works 𖧧࣪

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queenshelby · 9 months

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 11)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut

Words: 3,456

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10

Notes for this part:

In this part I have tried something new and written it from two perspectives.

One of the perspectives is that of the reader as she arrives at the Four Seasons Hotel and has an intimate and long overdue encounter with Robert.

The other perspective is that of the two army officers listening into the reader’s encounter with Robert. I have given these officers the names Officer Nichols and Officer Kent. The Officers will later joined by General Lesley Groves and the perspective of these officers is written in italics.

A new encounter…

An hour before you knew that Robert was due to arrive at the Four Seasons Hotel, you checked in to the room he had booked for the night, thinking that this would give you enough time to get ready.

The room itself was more luxurious than anywhere else you had ever stayed before and there was even a bottle of champagne on the nightstand for you both, which you thought was a nice gesture. “With compliments” it said on the note left in front of it and, whilst you were keen to open it, you ought it to be polite to wait for Robert.

With that in mind, you chose to spend the entire hour prior to his arrival to get ready for him, stripping off your clothes and then heading in to the bathroom before starring at yourself in the counter-to-ceiling mirror adjacent to the basinet.

Knowing that Robert desired you, you smiled as you studied your naked reflection before, eventually, you picked up the bar of fresh soap which had provided by the hotel, taking in its scent. It was rose scented and smelled more luxurious than anything you had washed yourself with before, making it perfect for you to use in a hot warm bath.

***Listening in***

“What’s wrong?” Officer Nichols asked as he watched Officer Kent turn off the listening device for a short moment of time.

“She is turning on the tap” he pointed out to his superior who looked his colleague with confusion.

“So?” Officer Nicholas asked before he turned the device back on so that he could hear what was going on.

“It’s the bathroom, sir. With respect, we should give this poor woman some privacy. She is having a bath” Officer Kent pointed out but Officer Nichols clearly did not care.

“This is a matter of national security and I have clear instructions from General Groves to make note of every word spoken between this woman and Dr Robert Oppenheimer in so far as the project is concerned. This includes anything she mumbles to herself while washing her fucking hair. Now listen and make notes…” Officer Nichols instructed and, of course, Officer Kent agreed to follow his orders.

“Yes Sir” he thus said to his superior before continuing his investigation into your bathroom habits.

***

Without knowing that you were being listened to and, after adjusting the water, you stepped into the tub and spread the soap luxuriously over your body. You inhaled the spicy, floral aroma and thought about Robert’s hands on your body which were what you missed the most. You missed his gentle, passionate, and erotic touch along with his kisses and the feeling of him being inside of you, making your two bodies become one.

You needed him to touch you again so desperately and, just as you ran your soapy hands over your hardening nipples, you unconsciously closed your eyes and enjoyed the memory of how turned on you had been when Robert made love to you last.

As such, you slipped your magic fingers down your smooth stomach and pressed one teasingly between your waiting lips with the subtle urge to masturbate growing. But then, suddenly, remembering the things that were about to occur, you reluctantly stopped touching yourself and rinsed off. You wanted Robert to be the one to make you cum and knew that he would not have appreciated you making a start without him.

You thus stepped out of the tub and wrapped one of the luxurious towels around your body before you walked, still dripping, into the bedroom and, just as you glanced towards the bed, you noticed that there was a new suit-bag standing in front of it.

“You are early” you then heard a familiar voice say to you from behind, which is when you turned around and saw the man you had been waiting for.

“So are you” you told him in response as Roberts took your hands in to his and looked deeply into your eyes.

“I missed you” he then told you with great desire in your voice and our reply was simply to place your lips on to his and give him a long and passionate kiss, which he returned with enthusiasm.

Your tongues were soon dancing around each other's mouths and you decided to drop the towel in a haste as you kissed passionately, furiously grasping at each other with your hands, unable to kiss fast or deep enough to satisfy your wants.

***Listening in***

“Sir?” Officer Kent asked while taking off his headphones momentarily.

“What is it?” Officer Nichols wanted to know and, by this point, he sounded somewhat annoyed.

“With respect, I don’t think that their relationship has anything to do with conspiracy against the US government” Officer Kent pointed out, seeing that you and Robert were clearly about to engage in intercourse rather than a discussion about bomb or communism. “I think they are just lovers” he thus pointed out but Officer Nichols did not care.

“She wouldn’t the first spy to use these kind of techniques Kent. Keep listening” Officer Nichols argued, but Officer Kent was still reluctant.

“Sir, I am not going to listen to…” he thus said before being interrupted by his superior again.

“I expect you to do your fucking job” Officer Nichols said which was the last discussion they had until, several hours later, they were visited by General Groves.

***

Still not knowing that you were listened to, your kissing continued like this for several minutes while your hands were tugging against Robert’s clothes and his hands were roaming your naked and still somewhat wet body, passionately touching every bit of exposed skin he could reach.

“It’s been way too long Robert and I can’t wait any longer” you murmured against his lips as you managed to get your right hand between you and him and find his already erect length inside his trousers.

“Neither can I. I can’t stand being without you” Robert told you and, by that time, he had moved his mouth down to your neck and then your breasts which were glistening from your bath.

“You have absolutely no idea how much I graved this” he then said before he was alternatively licking and kissing your naked flesh, eliciting a moan from deep within your throat.

“I think I may have a slight idea, going by the letters you wrote me. Some of them were quite explicit Robert” you teased in between moans as you let go of his cock and used your hands to work on his jacket and shirt, removing them both.

“And what did you do with the letters?” Robert then asked before a gasp escaped his lips.

“I masturbated to them before hiding them beneath my bed, which is where no one can find them” you smirked seductively and Robert’s pleasure was expressed with another bout of amorous kissing.

“You shouldn’t have kept them Y/N” Robert told you before he gave your breasts the attention they so craved.

“I had to Robert. It is all I had from you for three fucking months. I had no idea where you went and I know you cannot tell me anything, but I missed you. I missed this” you told Robert through several quiet moans as he went to work on your breasts while you unbuttoned his shirt some more and virtually tore if from his body before dumping it alongside your own clothes.

“I need you to fuck me Robert” you then whispered said as you took the opportunity to kiss his nipples too and then worked your way down his torso to his stomach, fully intending to unbutton his trousers and release that snake trying to force its way out the fly. Robert, however, had other ideas and he gently lifted you onto the bed and laid you on your back before he stood there open mouthed for a few seconds, looking at your naked body.

“You are stunning and I can’t wait to make love to you again” Robert then said before, eventually, he lowered his head in between your legs.

“Spread your legs wider for me, so that I can taste you” he told and, as soon as you complied with his request, Robert buried his tongue in your already sopping wet pussy.

At the first touch of his tongue, you let out a moan and then a gasp as he moved to your clit and began sucking and flicking your little knob.

“Fuck, Robert” you groaned and, after having been abstinent for about three months, you were not ashamed to say that your first orgasm happened within minutes - the first of several that afternoon and many since.

The orgasm started as a familiar tingling feeling deep inside your tummy, moving down to your womb and finally to your love tunnel. As it moved south your hips began to gyrate and Robert had to use both hands to push you down until you finally let out a loud moan and your love juices flowed freely from your pussy.

Robert clamped his mouth over your gaping hole and sucked out every last drop before moving back up the bed to give you another passionate kiss.

“You taste even better than I had remembered” Robert then told you after your lips drifted apart and you were quick to announce that, now, it was your turn.

“Let me repay the favour now, professor” you smirked and Robert voluntarily rolled onto his back on the bed and looked into your eyes with anticipation.

“I missed this” Robert acknowledged as you unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers. With some help from Robert they, and his boxer shorts, were soon cluttering up the floor and he led there with his length standing to attention just waiting for some action.

“So did” you told him as you positioned yourself between his legs, leant forward and tickled the tip of his length with the tip of your tongue.

Robert groaned loudly and, given the way he jerked, you could tell he liked that but before you took him fully into your mouth, you wanted to tease him a little more so you moved up his body to kiss his belly button which brough your breasts into contact with his very hard member.

“That is very sexy” Robert groaned as you swayed slightly and your nipples brushed against the head of his cock and you were rewarded by a smear of pre-cum on your breasts, which you licked off whilst looking into his eyes. Moving back down you licked your tongue up and down the length of his cock a few times before opening your lips and swallowing him into your mouth.

“God, that’s it Y/N. That feels so good” Robert groaned as, with up and down motions of your head, you sucked on the length filling your mouth and heard some gratifying noises coming from this beautiful man.

Whilst mouth fucking his cock you used your right hand to fondle his balls until after a few minutes he lifted your head.

“You better stop or I won’t be able to control myself” he told you and you knew that he wanted to be inside you when he came.

“Do you want me on top?” you thus asked and, after he nodded his head and answered with a simple “yes” you moved to straddle him in the cowgirl position.

“What a perfect view” Robert acknowledged as you positioned yourself directly above his cock and reached between your legs to open your love tunnel for him.

“Oh god. Fuck” was all you then managed to say with a loud moan as, in unison, you sank down onto him as he pushed up.

The feeling of his cock pushing into and filling your pussy was immense and once fully inserted you just squatted there for a few moments to savour the feeling before starting to slowly move up to the point his cock head was still just in your pussy before sinking back down again.

“Fuck you feel so good” you moaned loudly as your inner labia lips were very sensitive and Robert's bulbous head was soon doing the trick and your movements became faster and faster until he had to start working with you to keep himself inside.

Your love making was frantic and loud. Groans and moans were filling the room and, after about twenty minutes of this action, you could feel yourself starting to orgasm again.

“Oh god Robert. I am so fucking close” you cursed and this spurred him into even faster action and the familiar feelings were rapidly building up inside you.

“Cum for me” Robert groaned and, as he reached up and pinched your nipples, you went over the top in a rush, a rather noisy rush.

“Oh my fucking god” you cried out as you came hard and, when your walls began to convulse and your body started to shake, Robert too let go of the built up tension in his loins.

“Fuck” he simply groaned as he jerked upwards again while tumbling over the edge himself, which is when you felt a jet of hot cum burst into you and explode against your cervix.

You moaned again and Robert kept up his thrusting until he was completely spent which is when, after a little while, you lifted yourself off and Robert’s length slid out of your love tunnel.

“Jesus Christ I fucking missed this” you cursed as you could feel your combined essence drip from your slit, arousing you all over again just you laid down next to each other, panting.

“Well don’t think I am done with you yet. We will have until midday tomorrow before I have to leave and see my wife” Robert explained while lightening himself a cigarette and you sat up in order to finally crack open the bottle of champagne.

“Your wife is not someone I want to talk about Robert, so don’t mention her again” you lectured him before pouring yourself and Robert a glass of champagne.

“I apologise” Robert said while sitting up straight and taking the glass from your hands while you snatched the cigarette he had lit from his.

“Now tell me, how is your thesis on dark matter coming along” Robert then wanted to know which is what you talked about for an hour before engaging in some steamy intimacy again all while being listened to by army officials.

In the end though, after several hours of love making, you finally laid on the bed in the spoon position, with Robert's hands on your breasts and your hand on his semi-hard length, and fell asleep.

It was a very satisfied sleep until an hour or two later you were awoken by the sensation of having your breasts massaged.

“You can’t get enough, can you?” you teased as you began to stroke Robert’s cock and turned your head towards him.

“Never” Robert confirmed before kissing you again, passionately, and full of lust.

With just a few hours of sleep, your passion certainly had not abated and Robert soon lifted one of your legs to give him access to your pussy. You felt his finger enter and gave a little moan, followed by a slightly louder one as a second finger entered you. He soon found your G-spot and went to work, finger fucking you whilst tweaking your nipples at the same time. Not content with this he used his thumb to rub your clit, which started you off again.

"Not with your fingers; put your cock in there" you eventually whispered and this was a request he willingly went along with. As his cock found its way into your pussy his fingers replaced his thumb on your clit, where they performed magical deeds adding to the feelings you were already having.

Robert now started kissing your back and neck, nibbling your ears and sucking on the lobes, so that you were feeling totally consumed by the act of making love with him. A few minutes later Robert pulled himself out of you and rolled you onto your stomach then raised your ass into the air to give a perfect angle for his cock to fuck you from behind.

“Oh god Robert. Please take me” you moaned, thinking that this was the sluttiest position of all as, to you, it suggested that the woman is totally subservient to the man and at that moment that was exactly how you felt.

Robert began with long slow strokes which, as before, steadily got shorter and faster until you had to begin to sway back and forth in time with him to keep you both coupled. Every time he thrusted into you, you could feel his balls slap against your clit and that was very erotic.

After a while, you felt him lean forward and his hands came around your body until he had a grasp of your breasts, which he began to knead and pinch again.

“I am so close” you moaned as this whole experience was having the desired effect and your orgasm began to build.

“So am I" was Robert’s reply and almost immediately after that you climaxed together and you felt more of his sperm fill you, but only this time it seemed to go on for ever as spurt after spurt exploded into you, right against the entrance to your cervix.

Moments later, you collapsed into a big, spent, heap on the bed; both breathing very heavily but managing to continue massaging each other's bodies before getting some more rest and even another few hours of sleep until, at around 5 o’clock in the morning, there was a knock on your hotel room door.

“Open up Robert. We need to talk” you heard a familiar voice of an angry General say, speaking heavily and frustrated, causing you to break out in fear for the inevitable.

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