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sytoran · 8 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟓 — 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀

kinktober day 005 | mermaid!wanda x pirate!reader

as captain of a notorious gang of pirates, you've got a reputation of steel, but when there's a pretty little mermaid presenting herself for you, there's no chance in hell you're not saying yes.

cont. sweet talk, begging, humiliation, overstimulation word count. 2178

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“Righto, fellas, so we got sixty ducats – twenty doubloons, is it?” Bucky asks lackadaisically, tossing gold coins up and down with his good hand.��

A loud guffaw surrounds the group of you huddled around the campfire. You shake your head with a toothy grin at your right-hand man’s idiocy. Even the least educated pirates in your gang knew what sixty divided by two was.

You reach over and knock the side of Bucky’s head with your bloodied knuckles. “That brain cavity wouldn’t make a drinkin’ cup for a canary, buddy.”

“Aw, kiss my boot, ya fuckin’ cunt-licker,” the dark-haired man grumbles in response, still playing with his shiny gold coins. He playfully punches your arm his prosthetic one.

In record timing, you whip out your dagger from your cow-skin belt and pierce the hole in Bucky’s coin midair, pinning the coin to the nearest tree with a deadly aim.

“Cunt-licker is right,” you say smugly, going to ruffle Bucky’s already shaggy hair. The impressed hoots and jeering taunts at your dagger-throwing skills are all good-hearted, as is the general atmosphere within your gang.

The lot of you were specialists in your craft, the most formidable and deadly in the piracy industry. Five years ago, you had claimed the largest plot of land that was the very island you lived on with your mates. Tu’Au was surrounded by the freshest of ocean water and the most gorgeous of views.

There was also a legend of the mystical mermaids that lived beneath Tu’Au, but you didn’t believe any of that bosh and bullshit about supernatural creatures. You’d believe it when you saw one with your very own eyes.

“Yall’ finish up counting our loot for the day, I’m gonna take a walk by the shore,” you say, adjusting the piece of tobacco between your lips and then dusting off your pants. “Don’t let Buck do the counting.”

“Got it, boss,” Steve answers promptly, ever the loyal one. Bucky rolls his eyes.

Loveable idiots, you think, tossing your hat to the side. Strolling away from the main camp, you finally take a deep inhale of that tobacco, smoke trailing off into the orange sunset.

As you walk along the shore, bare feet on the wet sand, you look up and close your eyes. It was times like these that were simple, times like these that you never wanted to end—

“I said, get away from me! Please, just leave me alone!”

A feminine, desperate cry from the distant ocean has you blinking open your eyes in sudden alertness, darting to the source of the sound.

From a short distance to shore, there is chaos occurring within the waters. What seems to be a muscular, bare-chested man is swimming inhumanly fast towards a significantly smaller-sized woman with long, cascading hair.

Though both of them certainly spoke like regular humans, there was a certain way about their moving in the waters and tremendous presence that had you second-guessing yourself.

“Get back here, you good for nothin’! You’ll make up your mind when I fuckin’ want you to!”

He’s yelling foul words at her, catching up to her already, clearly incredibly unpleased. Suddenly, the man dives down, and you catch sight of a shimmering blue tail above the waters before it disappears.

Hang on a damn moment. Merfolk are real?

But before your brain can process what you truly just saw, the merman reemerges much closer to the mermaid, massive gold spear in a vice grip.

As if a gear was kicked into motion, you sprint towards the water. Kicking up water as you run through the shallow part of the ocean, you stumble but never slow down, eyes set on the target. It’s prey-or-predator right now, either conquer the enemy or die trying.

The said target has got the mermaid in his massive arms, wrapping around her torso and forcefully dragging her back into the deep waters. Her strangled cries get muffled by the water, cries and pleas ringing in your ears.

Just before you dive into the water, your hand flies to that trusty weapon holster, and a sharp dagger flies at the merman with an air-cutting, brutal force. “Y/N bullseye L/N,” you remember Bucky saying with a stupid grin on his face. “Never misses a shot.”

A millisecond before your plunge into the ocean, the stunning blue eyes of the mermaid meet yours, and you lose all the air in your lungs.

You’ve never seen anything like it, never laid your eyes upon such a breathtaking beauty before. Blue eyes deeper than the depths of the ocean, sparkling more than the brightest of glimmering stars,

An agonized cry from the merman hauls you out of your trance. The dagger struck him directly in the right eye, just as expected, just as you had calculated. Opaque red blood comes out in spurts, and his hands release the mermaid and go to clutch at his eye.

Your arms glide in the water, smooth and cutting, bringing you closer to the struggling pair.

Seizing the moment of the merman’s distractedness, you wrap your arms around the mermaid. You immediately notice the way she sinks into your embrace, head drooping to lean against your chest as you struggle to move through the water.

You really try to not think too hard about the lithe body in your arms. It was proving to be an incredibly difficult task.

After your hell of an escapade, you have the mermaid girl propped up against the wet rocks. It takes a while for you to notice that you’re on all fours above her, panting heavily with wide eyes and a drenched white shirt.

When you do realise it, though, you get off her immediately, clearing your throat awkwardly. So much for being a scary pirate.

“You alright?” you ask instead, fiddling with the collar of your white shirt. It had gotten drenched while you were in the water, along with all your clothes and your hair.

You were having a hard time trying to avoid looking at her chest since it was literally in front of you.

“You saved me,” the mermaid finally speaks, eyelashes wet with drops of water, her voice softer and sweeter than you could ever have imagined. You get a bit lost in the delicacy of her red lips as she stares back at you.

“Right,” you answer, your throat suddenly dry.

“What is your name, human?” the mermaid asks, hand going to stroke at the curvature of your jawline that was dotted with droplets of water. The touch was honey-like.

“Y/N. How ‘bout you?”

“Wanda.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Prettier than me?”

“No,” you answer a little too quickly, voice a little hoarser than before. Your eyes dart around to focus on anything but the ethereal mermaid before you, but soon they land on a wound at her tail.

“Oh, shucks, you’re bleeding. I’ll go get bandages an’ stuff from base,” you say, looking at the nasty wound on the tip of Wanda’s tail, incarnadine blood leaking out of it.

“Don’t go,” the mermaid suddenly says, and there’s this little begging lilt to her voice that messes up your brain chemistry. “I mean, mermaids have healing properties, so you don’t have to go,” she mumbles, looking away with her cheeks flushed. Cute.

“That’s cool,” you answer, leaning back to let your hands run over the tip of her tail. Just like she said, the wound heals itself, slowly stitching back that scaly-smooth skin with a magical touch.

You give her tail a long stroke, running your fingers through the little scales that decorate this new thing you’d like to explore.

“Hng,” a little whimper suddenly escapes from the mermaid, and the both of you freeze. It’s a fine line between comedy and erotica.

You rub at her tail again, harder this time, and Wanda lets out a louder moan.

You start massaging her tail, hands spreading out over the sensitive area, kneading gently. Wanda’s face is absolutely flushed, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

“Kiss me?” she asks, breathlessly, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Warm mouths meet in an inferno of lust, Wanda’s head tilting up to meet yours, your head tilting down to chase hers. The moment you taste the sweetness of her lips, a trigger is flicked inside of your brain, and your body kicks it into overdrive.

Your hands tug off the seashell bra with unbridled haste, flinging it behind you without a care in the world. Wanda squeaks against your lips at your sudden boldness, hands going to encircle the back of your neck.

But that’s before you’re grabbing both her wrists with one hand and pinning it above her head against the wet rock. She moans as your lips make their way down the column of her porcelain, leaving red hickeys into the pale canvas like it was a work of art.

It was true, to a certain extent, because this mermaid before you was a work of art: brown hair splayed onto the wet rock like something out of a Renaissance painting, water droplets across her eyelids, breathing and panting your name, hips moving helplessly under your stronger body, trying to chase a fraction of the pleasure that you’re dangling out of reach.

Your mouth latches on to her supple breasts with eagerness, lips wrapping around her hardened bud. Wanda lets out a shriek when you suck on it, hard. As a mermaid, the sensations and emotions that they felt were many times that of a human, and you were making it no easier for her.

“N-Need you,” Wanda pleads, when you flick at her other pretty pink nipple, admiring how her body arches along with the sensation.

“Need me where?” you ask, a lust-coated rasp in your voice, edged with a tone of teasing that has Wanda’s head spinning.

You finally release her hands, and Wanda grabs your right hand with certainty, sliding it down her shuddering body and scaled tail to where a pussy would be.

Instead, your fingertips find a hot, wet, slit.

“Fuck,” you growl into Wanda’s skin, lost in the sheer thoughts of how much you could ruin her.

“Please?” Wanda begs again, giving you the biggest doe eyes she could. You didn’t need any convincing, anyway.

“All this for me?” You ask, ruthlessly plunging two fingers into her dripping slit. It’s warm and wet, and so tight. Your fingers explore, straightening out then curling in, going in big circles then in smaller ones.

All through your unabashed exploration of Wanda’s cunt, the pretty little mermaid is left completely at your mercy. She’s writhing, never been touched like this before.

“S’ too, too much,” she babbles incoherently when you slide a third finger in, thrusting in and out of her gorgeous little cunt like it’d be the last time you’d get to do this. Because in all honesty, it might be.

That thought alone spurs you on to go even faster, playing with Wanda’s body like a fiddle, making all the right noises with the right fingerings.

“Y/N,” she cries, long fingernails ripping the back of your vest to shreds. You don’t give a damn about it.

Turns out, mermaids have several sweet spots, because you’re finding all of them and breaking her with it.

“Gonna cum already?” you ask, “Needy little thing, hm? Couldn’t even wait five minutes?” Wanda tries to shake her head, but your other hand is stroking the length of her tail.

“Come f’me, sweet thing.”

Those words send her over the edge, snapping the knot that had been building in her belly.

“Y/N!” Wanda screams, a melodious tune, hands clawing at the edges of the rocks, then the back of your neck, all while her head is thrown back. Her tail is flapping in a state of no control, lost in the pleasure you’re feeding her.

Acknowledging the delicious tightening of Wanda’s mermaid slit around your three fingers, you opt to instead go at an even faster pace, fingers thrusting deeper into her body, because you wanted every inch of it.

“Y/N,” Wanda sobs, because she sees stars. Those brilliant blue eyes getting teary with your relentless pace. The tears escape the corners of her eyes and cascade down her cheeks like a waterfall.

It’s a sight you’d imprint into your memory forever, when Wanda’s ocean blue eyes roll into the back of her head and her little mermaid body goes limp in your arms.

You admire her for many moments, at how she had made you fuck her silly, at how she was yours now.

—

“Why’re you smilin’ like a baked possum?” Bucky asks you once you head back to camp. It’s early the next day, still dark out in the wide seas. He’s sprawled out on a wide hammock, sharpening a knife. Steve is cuddled into his chest.

Your lips curve into a stupidly smug smirk. “Not that you would know a dime about pussy, but remember what you said about cunt-lickers?”

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#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #sub wanda maximoff #bottom wanda maximoff #top reader #dom reader

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honkytonk-hangman · 4 months

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Take Care Of Business

40s!Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Mechanic!Reader

gif belongs to babyrooster

Summary: The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

Warnings: mentions of period accurate sexism, mentions of a cheating fiancee. copious amounts of fluff, seriously you may overdose

Notes: OMG ITS HERE ITS ACTUALLY FINISHED!!! thank you so sosososososos much to @hangmanssunnies for your endless endless ENDLESS love and encouragement during the last year writing this, and also to @ussgallifrey, who was super supportive during the earliest versions of this fic <3 i can't believe its heeerrreeee

1946

You can’t help but let out a laugh as you’re guided through the busy dance hall, barely missing a waiter with a large tray of drinks as you go. You try to call back an apology, but the hand wrapped around your wrist is already dragging you away, weaving in and out of the crowds of dancers and party-goers.

You’d almost forgotten what the atmosphere in a place like this could be like, exuberant and daring, and now that the war was officially over, lacking in any sort of melancholy.

Bea, your well meaning, but a little over-excited friend, finally seems to be slowing down, though she has one last surprise in stall for you, using your momentum to swing you around to her side with a strength such a small woman certainly shouldn’t possess.

“There she is!” a male voice, deep and pleasant, greets from somewhere in front of you, and you give your head a quick shake, attempting to get your bearings now.

“Sorry we’re late, sugar! Had a lipstick emergency!” Bea says only half truthfully, stepping away from your side momentarily to allow a handsome moustachioed man to lean down and kiss her cheek.

You can’t help but smile at the sweet display. Bea had been telling you all about Bradley Bradshaw for weeks now, and if even half of what she’d told you was true, you already liked him immensely for treating your friend so well.

“And this must be the famous Ducky I’ve heard all about,” honey coloured eyes swivel away from Bea and land on you, making you remember yourself.

“It’s so good to meet you at last, Lieutenant Bradshaw!” you shake his offered hand warmly.

“Please just call me Bradley– or Rooster!” he gently corrects you, before he hums, and shoots Bea a suspicious look.

“Do you think she’s adding us birds to some sort of collection?” he asks conspiratorially, the question making you laugh genuinely at the absurdity.

Bea huffs, shakes her head, and smacks his arm, trying her best to fight off the grin on her lips.

“All I’ll say Rooster, is that you’d best treat her right, or she will hunt you for sport,” you lean in and reply, receiving your own smack for your trouble. Rooster’s face turns bright and he laughs, pulling Bea near with his arm around her.

“I can believe that, yes ma’am,” they look at each other with barely concealed adoration, and it makes your heart clench a little in your chest. You’re quickly distracted though, with the sudden and rowdy approach of six other people, all dressed to the nines like everyone else around you. Rooster seems unfazed by their appearance, though he tears his eyes away from Bea to glance around at the now much larger group you were in.

“Fellas, you all know Bea already, and this is Bea’s friend, Ducky,” he easily introduces you to the six newcomers, all men except for a tall, beautiful brunette woman who looked like she could eat every single one of them for breakfast. A flurry of handshakes and names are exchanged, and you’re surprised by just how quickly you feel totally absorbed by the group of Naval Aviators, like you’d known them all for years and were just catching up again.

“I’m spotting a free table, north west!” the man who held the youngest looking features of the group, Fanboy you believe he’d introduced himself as, pipes up, pointing over everyone's heads to the large round table that was currently being cleaned up. Before you can even process it, the entire group is migrating casually toward the table, Rooster catching the arm of the waiter before he leaves, putting a round in, you assume.

You find yourself next to Bob, who sends you an adorably awkward little grin as he pulls out your chair for you, and you thank him sincerely. Despite the gentlemanly gesture, the moment you’re comfortable, he’s taking his own seat, and once more totally absorbed by the woman you’d learn was named Phoenix, or Nat. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, too distracted by all the new faces, and their excitable personalities, but Bob was clearly, utterly enamoured by Phoenix, and it looked like the feeling was returned, if perhaps a little less obviously

“Hey, Javy, where’s your other half?” Bea is sat a few places down from you, her hand wrapped through Rooster’s arm. A man on the opposite side of the table waves his hand over his shoulder.

“He’s coming, probably caught his reflection in a glass,” Javy snorts.

“I wanted to introduce him to Ducky!” Bea pouts, and her words make you frown.

“Pardon?” you say pointedly, leaning around Bob and Phoenix to look at Bea with a frown. Rooster seems to be matching your expression, and he cocks his head at his partner.

“Ducky is far too nice for him,” Rooster says, but you get the feeling he doesn’t really mean it.

“Oh come off it, Ducks, you could do with meeting someone new!” Bea rolls her eyes, but her voice is imploring.

Your frown deepens just a little bit, but you aren’t too angry. It wasn’t as if she’d tricked you into a double date or anything. There were plenty of other seemingly solo people around that you’re sure any awkwardness could easily be avoided if you managed to stick by Bob and Phoenix.

“I’m afraid that I won’t be able to help you there, Honey Bea,” A smooth male voice purrs from behind you, and you almost jump at the hand that comes to rest warmly on your shoulder. You turn quickly in no small amount of surprise at the person apparently so close, but any further thought is cut off when your eyes properly take in the handsome face smirking coquettishly down at you.

You’re so surprised, you gasp daintily, fumbling to your feet so that you can greet him properly.

“Hangman!” you welcome him excitedly, happily accepting the hand he offers to help you up.

“Jake,” he corrects gently, and you feel foolish for laughing.

“Jake!” you repeat fondly, caught up in staring at him.

“You two already know each other?” Bea sounds put out, but intrigued, and you manage to tear your gaze away from Jake for a few moments to focus on her.

“Oh, Ducky and I go way back,” Jake tells her, at first offering no more explanation.

“We met during the war,” you explain to her, opening your mouth to continue on that he had been a friend of your fiance’s, but you stop yourself. Jake had been your friend long before you’d found out he knew your ex-fiance.

“Best damn aircraft mechanic I’ve ever had,” Jake adds, sounding proud as he brings your hand that he still holds up to his lips. Phoenix jerks then, blinking quickly around the other’s and then up at Jake with a growing smile.

“Wait, you’re the Ducky?! Jake’s Ducky?!” She questions in no small amount of disbelief. There’s a quiet chitter of understanding and awe that briefly overcomes the table, and you’re about to ask what it is she means by that, when Jake squeezes your hand and draws your attention, all the while shooting Phoenix a dirty look.

“Stop interrupting,” he scolds needlessly, and draws you closer.

Your chest flutters, but you’re distracted from the butterflies caused by being described as ‘Jake’s Ducky’, and instead distracted by an odd look on the blond’s face. It quickly turns a little darker, and you can’t help but notice the brief flicker of his eyes down to the hand he still holds.

“Where is the old man, then?” Jake tilts his head at you, and then quickly around at the crowded club, seemingly a little stiff now. You suck in a breath, realising now what he’d been confused by.

Clearing your throat, you take your left hand back from him with only a small amount of effort, before smoothing down your frock primly. Suddenly his closeness was nerve wracking as you feel him studying your features.

“Probably with his new wife. I haven’t exactly been keeping up,” you can’t help but scold yourself for the sass and bitterness in your tone. It just wasn’t classy. Jake seems to jolt as he processes your words, and for several more moments he stares down at you with an unreadable expression, before at last a tiny crease pulls between his brows, and his lips purse.

“I never liked him, anyway,” Jake says the words flippantly, and you know it’s supposed to be a joke, but his still taut expression and lack of humour in his voice tell you otherwise.

“Never good enough for you. To you,” he goes on quieter, so no one else can hear but you. You look down at your skirt, heart thumping away rapidly in your chest even as you shrug.

“Well, it’s probably for the best,” you do your best to shake off any residual foul mood and nerves, straightening up. Your lips curl back into a smile as you look back up at him once more. It felt nearly impossible to be melancholy when you knew Jake was around.

“It’s so good to see you again,” you tell him earnestly, and watch as Jake’s face softens. He takes your hand again, keeping eye contact as he lifts it to his lips and kisses it once more, this time, right where your old engagement ring would have been.

“I imagine,” he smirks, bouncing an eyebrow at you. You scoff, but grin even as you roll your eyes.

“You’re supposed to say ‘you too’!” you scold with no conviction as Jake rounds your seat, not even releasing your hand when, helping you back into your chair before he quickly folds himself into the empty space beside you. He simply shrugs at you, making a point of pulling his chair closer to yours, before his eyes flicker past you to land on Rooster and Bea.

“Sorry to ruin your little setup,” he doesn’t sound very sorry at all, though you doubt Bea was feeling too upset, not with the way she was looking between you and Jake with glee in her eyes.

“Hey, wasn’t my plan. I think she’s too good for you,” Rooster chortles, catching the fist Bea attempts to sock him with, and kissing it instead.

Jake ignores Rooster, and instead cuts his gaze down at you, leaning in so only you’ll hear him.

“How long have you been in San Diego? Are you staying?” he asks, sounding excited by the idea. When you turn to face him fully, his nearness is so much that if only for propriety’s sake, you’re forced to pull back from him as you talk.

“Six months now. I met Bea on the boat coming home from London, she convinced me not to go back to New York after… everything.” you tell him, realising suddenly what incredible luck you must have that you just so happened to run into one another when you’d resigned yourself to never seeing him again.

“I’m glad.” he says, pinning you in place when you feel his hand reach out and take yours from where it rests on your lap. Your heart thumps heavily at his brazenness, but it also sets you alight with a hopeful flame that in recent months you had come to realise you always had, but never allowed yourself to take notice of or indulge before.

The thoughts make your face boil, and you avert your gaze, your free hand shaking just a little as you reach for the glass of water that had been poured for you earlier.

“Oh, Ducky,” Jake sighs affectionately, leaning away from you at last, but tightening his grip around your fingers. You finally get the courage to glance up at him sheepishly, only to find him grinning down at you cheshire-like.

“My little sitting Ducky,” he continues, his smile only continuing to grow.

You know you should probably feel more trepidation about his sudden forwardness, but the only thing that you feel pumping through your veins is the exhilarating thrill at the thought of Jake calling you ‘his’ anything after so long of secretly wishing it to be true.

The way he looks at you feels positively predatory, and under his blistering hunter’s stare, you really are his sitting duck.

1942

The rain batters down against the airfield in what you knew would only prove to be ugly flying weather tonight, and you quickly send out a prayer of luck on behalf of the pilot you know by handwriting alone. Your time as an aircraft mechanic had officially come to an end, not for any good or decent reason, mind you, but for the sole fact that someone had suddenly decided that an active airfield was no place for a woman.

Nevermind that you were the best mechanic in the hangar, your colleagues had stroppily resented your presence from day one, and your true purpose as an additional engineer was forcibly concealed. Instead, you’d had to pretend you were a secretary around any actual personnel, especially the pilots, and once the hangar was clear for the day, you would be at last allowed to perform your actual job.

You’d gotten the impression fairly quickly that your coworkers shunted off the hardest to please, fussiest pilot, onto you, hoping you might fail at the first hurdle under the sheer amount of work this ‘Hangman’ seemed to demand. Unfortunately for them, you’d had no problem meeting the brief, and day after day that the planes were towed into the hangar for repairs, the stack of memos detailing Hangman’s complaints that always accompanied his aircraft grew smaller and smaller.

And then one day, instead of a plane to fix and a list of notes, you had a letter shoved into your hands, the contents of which was a written apology from one Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, informing you that he’d he’d been shot down, and all your hard work over the past weeks was now engulfed in flame somewhere in Italy. You’d immediately penned a reply, not caring at all about the state of his aircraft, and expressing your relief that he had made it out safely. You’d had to sign it off using a pseudonym, your own name would have gone against your boss’s wishes, and a fake name would be easily found out on an active military base.

You’d gone with ‘Ducky’, the callsign your father had used during the Great War, and from then on out, it had stuck.

Lieutenant Seresin had been sent back to the airfield eventually, and you’d both gone back to business as usual for several months. His battered bomber would be towed into the hangar for repairs, but gone were his blunt instructions, in their place he left short personal letters usually detailing his most recent flights, and only sometimes with requests about fixtures to be made. You would then leave your own reply for him to find when the plane was returned back to the runway, and so on, so forth.

At least, that's how things had been carrying on until this morning, when you’d been abruptly dismissed by the airfield’s second in command, a snivelling man who had informed you they had ended your auxiliary work here, as it was apparently no place for a woman to be.

You’d wanted to shout and demand explanations, to demand your colleagues defend your worth, but they'd all remained silent, and you’d quickly been escorted off to pack your things with tears stinging your eyes.

You can’t help but wonder if your secret somehow got out, by the doing of jealous coworkers, and if perhaps Hangman hadn’t been so pleased with you upon finding out that you’re a woman.

The heavy rainfall makes it difficult for you and your bags to get across to the waiting transport plane, but the war stopped for nobody, so you’d wound up in the back of the empty aircraft, your clothes and things all but totally soaked. You’d been told the plane wouldn’t leave until the storm died down, so you’d huddled onto one of the benches miserably and tried to get warm, but you felt yourself filled with a deeper coldness than simply the biting european air.

You sit and stare out the back of the plane’s fuselage, simply taking in the distant ebb and flow of the airfield, a flurry of activity that wouldn't stop just because of some rain. It comforted you in a way, to know this place would carry on, but there was a deeper part of you that worried for them. You weren’t a braggart, but you knew you were the best mechanic here, taking not just pride in your work, but joy and passion too. It concerns you what may happen to the pilots in the future.

But, it was much too late for you to do anything else now. Perhaps if you’d been brave enough from the start to demand your recognition all along, this wouldn't be the case, but you think that perhaps they’d have just gotten rid of you sooner.

And then you notice something very odd.

All of a sudden out of the pouring sheets of rain, a covered military jeep comes tearing into sight, its driver in some kind of rush despite the slow lazy movement of everything else in this weather. You blink in surprise as the car skids right up to the plane you’re in, and jump up when it at last comes to a full stop only a few feet from the ramp. You can’t help but take a step back when the door flings open, and you watch as a tall, handsome man bounds out, clearly with urgent business to attend.

The man quickly moves up the plane ramp toward you, ducking out of the rain and taking a moment to fix his hair briefly before he straightens fully again. You stare at him with widened eyes, taking in the aviation uniform he wears, complete with gold wings that seem to glint blindingly despite the lack of sunlight on them. He pauses at the top of the ramp, and you almost jump back again at the intensity of his gaze when his bright green eyes narrow at you.

“Now, now, Ducky, don’t you know it’s rude to leave without saying goodbye?” the lazy southern drawl to the man’s voice surprises you so much that you almost don’t notice the familiarity with which he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry?!” you blurt dumbly. The blonde nods acceptingly, and steps forward, placing his hands on his hips.

“I should hope so! You think Kirk is gonna send me letters the next time I get shot down?” he asks scoldingly, but his casual mention of what would have been certain death for any other pilot is what finally snaps you from your shock.

“You'll get more than just a letter from me the next time you’re shot down!” you say crossly, finding yourself none-too-pleased by his nonchalant attitude toward the subject. Your threat makes a smirk form on the blonde’s lips, and at last he seems to stop his baseless tirade in favour of giving you a very blatant once over. You’re more subtle in your own assessment. A quick glance at the name pinned just below his gold wings confirms your suspicions about who it is you talk to, and when you snap your eyes back to his face, you find he’s already watching you closely.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve known you’re a woman for quite some time,” Hangman says, somehow both seriously and flippantly at the same time, waving his hand dismissively. Your brows furrow and you open your mouth to defend yourself, but shut it again quickly when you realise you’re unsure of what you’d say. “I first suspected when the repair hangar suddenly had a secretary who made terrible coffee. They aren’t sending anyone who makes shitty coffee this close to Italy. No offence.”

You feel like you should be insulted by his words, but truthfully, you’d made the joe that bad on purpose out of pure spite, until they stopped asking you to fetch it. The two of you continue to stare at one another for a few seconds, before you shift your eyes away from him, swallowing thickly as you begin to fidget with your still damp sleeve.

“The other’s thought it best that the pilot’s didn’t know a woman was working on their planes…” you try to explain. Hangman immediately scoffs at your words, and you eye him cautiously as he flings a hand out behind him, toward the entrance of the transport plane and in the vague direction of where the bombers are lined up on the tarmac, their bright colours obscured by the heavy rain.

“Ducky,” he begins dryly, “We paint our planes with women, we name our planes after our women,” he tells you, his smirk tipping up into pure amusement now, an eyebrow following. “Besides, I ain’t ever known a pilot who’s intimidated by a little skirt, especially around our machines,” he purrs, lowering his voice flirtatiously. Your face immediately heats up at his insinuation, and you can’t help but tut disapprovingly at him, even if you did appreciate his other sentiments. You fold your arms over your chest in disapproval while Hangman chortles at your clear bashfulness.

“I mean it, Ducky, please don’t go,” the pilot all but begs you then, his tone suddenly serious. He steps closer again, forcing you to look up at him in the gloomy dark of the plane.

“I– I’m not leaving because I want to, Lieutenant,” you tell him somberly, dropping your gaze again when you find his stare too intense. “I was told to leave.”

Hangman scoffs again, and adjusts his stance.

“Right, and I’ve just come from dangling my ass in front of a court martial, or seven, to make sure that order is belayed.” he informs you much too casually. You sputter at his mention of possible charges on your behalf, your arms falling unfolded again as you take a half-step forward in panic.

“W–what?! What did you do?!” you demand, half worried, half furious.

Hangman grins widely at your clear exasperation, and tips his chin up cockily. You get the sudden feeling he enjoys ticking you off and making you nervous.

“Well, they can’t expect me to remain their best pilot if I don’t have my best girl working on my other best girl,” he tells you slowly, as if it should have been completely obvious already. Your face gets even hotter at his clear flirting, guilt strumming in your stomach at the way your chest flutters despite your relationship status. However, before you’re able to rebuke him by pointing out the ring you wear, the handsome blond makes a show of digging into his breast pocket, and pulling out a crumpled, coffee stained letter, holding it out towards you.

You hesitantly step closer to take it from him, feeling his bright, intense gaze return to yours, as you unfold and quickly look over the typed missive. It’s only a few lines long, and signed at the bottom, so you find yourself hurriedly meeting his eye again.

“You did this for me?” you ask, voice now watery. Hangman stares down at you, looking suddenly less cocky and sure of himself, taken aback by your clear emotional response.

“... Technically, I did this for me.” he corrects unconvincingly, voice lilting to sound dismissive, but you barely hear him, and certainly don’t care for his posturing.

“Thank you!” you gush, feeling a massive weight lift form your chest for the first time all morning. The pilot blinks down at you, stiffly taking in the tears that you try to wipe away with the back of your hand.

“How’re you supposed to drag me back by the ear the next time I get shot down, if you’re not here?” He changes the subject slightly, but only earns a small laugh in reply, not a further telling off, which he’d hoped might distract you from your tears.

“I think that will be the least I owe you after this.” you sniffle. The pilot shuffles uncomfortably, and raises a hand to scratch nervously at the back of his head, unable to sidestep the emotional centre of this interaction like he’d wanted to, but he chooses to wade through it, for you.

“You don’t owe me a damn thing, Ducky, really,” Hangman sighs, speaking tiredly, but firmly. “You’re the best aircraft mechanic I’ve ever had, probably that any of us have had. Shouldn’t matter if you’re a woman.” he hopes he sounds sincere. You hold the belayed order to your chest, and with a wobbling lip stare up at him like he was the sun itself.

You don’t realise this is the exact moment Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin falls completely in love with you, but as he eyes the shiny engagement ring you wear, he does.

1946

You try to ignore the way Bea stares at you and Jake for the next half hour as you catch up, and eventually, you are able to brush off her pointed looks and coquettish smiles. The other Daggers, Rooster and Phoenix particularly, show no such subtly in the way they seem to watch Jake interact with you. Phoenix had even grown a smug little smile in the last few minutes and had begun teasingly questioning Jake about the tender way in which he had taken up your hand and absolutely refused to let it go.

You get the feeling they know something you don’t, but you don’t feel that poorly over it, not when Hangman, Jake, has his hand in yours, his thumb caressing back and forth in little circles everytime you seem to go quiet.

Eventually, tiring of the clear teasing at his expense, Jake rolls his eyes and clears his throat. Fixing you in his gaze fully, he squeezes your hand and gets to his feet.

“I think we’ve both answered more than enough of your questions, Ducky, dance with me?” he doesn’t wait for your answer, but you would have said yes anyway, and, with a final glance back at the table as if to apologise for the sudden exit, you’re tugged gently away and almost immediately find yourself wrapped up on the dancefloor.

“I’m sorry if I’m rusty, it’s been a while since I danced properly,” you say nervously, feeling slightly lightheaded as Jake’s free hand moves to take hold of your waist firmly. His lips flick up, but he fakes a frown anyway, lowering his chin at you. You’re so close now you can feel yourself pressed right against the front of his pristine dress whites, feel the gold buttons through the tulle of your dress.

“I would have thought you’d be out dancing all the time now, fiancee or not,” Jake replies smoothly, making you shift your gaze away from him for a moment.

“It’s hardly wise to spend all my time dancing when I can barely find a job…” you say quietly, chewing on your lower lip, before you finally look back up at him. “If I’m honest, I hadn’t thought I’d still be working, once the war was over.”

Jake’s features lose any of their humour and he purses his lips.

“No, I’d have thought not… you should be being looked after by a good man, living a good life, taken dancing whenever you’d like and you’d never be rusty.” he tells you seriously. You can’t help but smile warmly at him and shrug a little in his hold.

“I think what I should do is adjust my expectations,” you say, inhaling sharply when his hold on your tightens, and he seems to pull you even nearer, if possible.

“I’m afraid that is absolutely unacceptable,” he tells you with a vehement shake of his head. “I think we’re going to have to do something about it, aren’t we?”

Butterflies errupt in your stomach, and unable to bear looking at him any more, you gently pull your hands from his, and wrap them around his neck. Your head rests softly on his chest, Jake quickly adjusting to meet your new stance in a way that suggested to you he’d imagined holding you like this for some time. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a soft sigh.

“Thank you, Jake.” You say quietly, only knowing for sure that he’s heard you by the way he gently squeezes your waist in response.

“For what, darlin’?”

“For everything. For always coming back like I asked, despite your terrible habit of only ever returning with about half as much plane as I sent you out with, for believing in me, and fighting for me, and always being there for me, even when Grey wasn’t.”

Jake stays quiet for a beat, his grip on you never wavering, and for a few moments the two of you just sway.

“It never felt right, knowing what I did about him, how he behaved, and keeping it from you… I… I felt so guilty all this time thinkin’ you’d been married to a man I knew didn’t deserve you, knowing I should have said something.”

It’s your turn to stay quiet, though eventually you shift your face up so that you can look at him. For the first time ever, Jake struggles to make eye contact with you, but when you begin gently smoothing over the hair at the back of his neck he meets your gaze. You smile sadly and shake your head.

“I knew,” you tell him, watching how his expression shifts from guilt-ridden to pained, and he opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “I didn’t want to believe it, and if you’d tried to tell me, I wouldn’t have believed you.” You continue stroking the back of his hair as if to comfort him. “And now I can still look fondly back on that time. In my mind, I will always think more of you looking out for me on his behalf, more than I think of him.” you admit.

Jake purses his lips and frowns.

“He never once asked me to do that for you, I couldn’t believe it, even when he knew we were stationed together. I woulda made sure you had someone you could trust, rely on, especially given how the other mechanics treated you.” He sounds so angry, and you can’t help but blink up at him in surprise.

“Grey never asked you to look out for me?” you ask, a fresh sting cutting your heart. You were long over your cheating, good for nothing ex-fiancee, but occasionally on nights like tonight, you felt the hurt once again. Jake takes in your surprise and hesitates for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. I won’t give him credit for that, I’m sorry sweetheart.”

You stop swaying, pausing for a moment to stare up at him, and then you can’t help yourself, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Jake.” you say once more. When you pull away, Jake studies you for a while, before he slides his hands up to take yours, suddenly spinning you out, and then back in, where he catches you seemingly with his entire body, hands quickly wrapping you up securely again as you gasp.

“Why so surprised, honey? I’ve never made a secret of how much I adore you?” He teases you, making you stutter.

“Y-yes well, you were usuaully far more subtle about it!” you attempt to defend. Jake’s face breaks out in a grin, but he eyes you sardonically anyway.

“I’m glad my restraint didn’t go unnoticed. I could easily have seduced you away back then,” he tells you wryly. You frown.

“I don’t think that’s true…” you argue, but Jake only smiles.

“Let me believe, honey,” he implores, making you laugh.

You fall into a comfortable quiet then, and happily let Jake twirl you around the dancefloor, shaking off any rust you may have obtained in the months since you’d last been out like this. After once more spinning you away and catching you again, you meet together with your faces much too close to be proper, but you hardly care with the way he looks down at you.

“The moment I saw you sitting in the back of that transport plane, I knew for sure you were my dream girl, you know that?” he tells you breathlessly. “I spent my entire recovery when I was shot down daydreaming about you, rereading every letter you wrote me.”

“You’re just trying to charm me now!” you accuse playfully. Jake chortles, and shakes his head.

“I told all my nurses about you, how I was going to marry you when the war was over,” he says, making your heart skip several beats.

“And all because I fixed your plane up real good?” you ask, unsure how else to respond. Jake raises an eyebrow and fixes you with an amused expression.

“Clearly you don’t grasp how attractive that is.”

“Clearly I don’t.”

“I hope my being unavailable didn’t hurt you, back then,” you say softly, surprised when Jake only shrugs minimally.

“Other than curbing my ability to seduce you, I knew one way or the other things would work out,” he tells you, sounding oddly serious. You blink at him, but cock your head slightly.

“I suppose they have, haven’t they?”

“I knew you liked me,” Jake says teasingly, leaning his face even closer to yours so that your noses almost touch. You roll your eyes, but don’t move back.

“How could I not? I’ve spent the last year feeling like a fool because I thought I’d never see you again!” you reply, lamenting the wasted time.

Jake hums, making you suck in a breath when he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ve been looking for you, but I didn’t even know your full name, or if you’d had it changed… But I’d never have left you, not when you never left me, no matter how many planes of yours I got shot out of.”

“Please don’t ruin this moment by reminding me,” you scold him, making the blond laugh. After a few beats of swaying together, you wrap your hands back around his neck and lean into him. You feel Jake’s head come to rest on yours, the both of you looking out at the dancefloor, where you spot Rooster and Bea dancing alongside Pheonix and Bob.

“Who do you think will have the wedding bells ringing first?” you ask wistuflly. Jake takes a moment to answer, humming briefly before he replies.

“Us.” He tells you matter of factly.

You can't help but giggle, and blindly smack his shoulder lightly.

“You’re hopeless!” you say, shaking your head where it lays against his chest. Jake only tightens his hold on you.

“Can’t let those nurses down, can I? They told me I had to marry you if you still hadn’t left me after the amount of times I was shot down.”

Against him you grumble, and poke his neck a little more forcefully.

“I wouldn’t recommend tyring that again,” you say darkly. You feel the man straighten ever so slightly, his head bobbing as he nods.

“Yes ma’am.” He affirms. You stay dancing closely, wrapped up in one another until he speaks again. “Will you come down to base tomorrow, look over my plane?” He asks quietly, and you can’t help but grin. Pulling back from him, you gaze into his green eyes, finding pure hope and adoration there.

“Only if you kiss me first.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction

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sashaforthewin · 8 months

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The mosh pit was intense.

Steve had never been to a concert with moshing, but after a few moments of assessing the situation while trying to protect Dustin, he got the hang of it. There seemed to be one main focused clump of violence and then the edges where people were taking hits but not giving them. Steve instinctively knew this was where he was meant to go, so he positioned himself between the moshers and his charge. Dustin, unfortunately, seemed completely clueless and kept trying to get around Steve to get in on the fun.

Upon closer observation, Steve noticed that the pit, while chaotic, wasn't actually as violent as he first thought. If someone went down, everyone around them pulled the person up. No fists were colliding. It was wild and bodies were slamming into each other, but it didn't seem life-threatening. So Steve looked at Dustin and said, "once around and then back here," before stepping aside and letting Dustin into the chaos.

Steve's eyes tracked Dustin's progress around the pit while he continued to take the hits the people behind him clearly didn't want to take. Bodies slammed against him, but there was something about it that was starting to be fun. There was a sort of camaraderie to the whole thing.

The moshing was moving in a sort of slow clockwise rotation, seemingly without anyone consciously choosing to do so. But then a guy slammed into Steve from the opposite direction, swimming against the stream, as it were, laughing and smiling. He looked at Steve and then did a double take.

"Hi," the guy said, now standing still within the mosh pit, unphased by the bodies slamming into him from all angles as he took Steve's hand in a slow shake, staring at him with huge dark eyes and a wide smile.

"Hi," Steve responded.

"I love your hair!" The guy said, still holding onto Steve's hand.

"Thanks, I love your vest!"

"Thanks, do you-" he started to ask but was cut off when the pit started to speed up and everyone started slam-dancing in a faster rotation. The guy was swept away into the circle and Steve lost sight of him.

Steve blinked. Then he saw Dustin, whose loud shirt was much easier to spot at a distance, and yanked him out of the circle pit. He could sort of see the guy every once in a while but the pit had him now so Steve continued his barrier duties of protecting the general crowd from the moshing and Dustin continued enjoying the raucous music.

As soon as the song ended, the guy popped back up next to Steve.

"I love your energy, by the way. I haven't seen you at any shows around. I'm Eddie," he said, flirty, taking Steve's hand again, not really shaking it but more formal than the typical holding hands.

"I'm Steve. Ow, and this is Dustin who I babysit because he is an immature little child," Steve said, rubbing the back of his leg where Dustin had kicked him.

Dustin was glaring.

"Dude, you don't have to call it babysitting, I'm fifteen."

"Don't worry, little fella, maybe your hot babysitter will invite me over some night he's watching you so we can hang out without you after your bed time."

"Ew. Also, he makes out with women, he likes women," Dustin proclaimed.

"And more," Steve shrugged, still staring and smiling at Eddie.

"More, huh? Well I am most definitely more."

Steve had never gone after a guy before, but he couldn't deny the appeal of someone so obviously really attracted to him. His inability to tell if he liked someone or if he liked that they liked him had caused him issues in the past and it sure wasn't showing signs of stopping any time soon, so he just embraced it. He was always willing to give it a shot and see what happened.

So, with that in mind they exchanged numbers and then got to chatting. Dustin got bored and snuck off back to the mosh pit and Steve decided he could deal with whatever consequences he ended up with, which later turned out to be a bunch of bruises and a bloody, but unbroken, nose.

But in the meantime, Steve and Eddie discovered they were both in Chicago for the concert and were actually both from the same town, though about as far away from each other as they could possibly live while still being in the town limits. They made plans to hang out at the Hideout the following weekend just in case they lost each other's numbers, and then they were rudely interrupted by Dustin turning up with blood pouring out of his nose. Eddie grabbed them some bar napkins and Steve decided they'd better call it a night.

"Here, little man, we can trade shirts so you don't have to jumpscare your parents with gore. I like Weird AL and I don't mind being covered in blood. That sounded weird, don't take that the wrong way, Steve."

After some grumbling, Dustin and Eddie swapped shirts. Steve thanked him for being so considerate and kind by pulling him in by the hand and placing a small kiss on his lips, which Eddie eagerly reciprocated and the two made out hot and heavy for a moment until Dustin yelled at them and dragged Steve away.

Eddie just stood there smiling and watching his future husband get pulled out of the club by a disgruntled teen now rocking a Corroded Coffin shirt. After they were out of sight, he sighed wistfully and then headed back into the new circle pit that was just forming.

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #stranger things fic #don't mind me im just going through my wip doc trying to clean up little chunks of stories #this was inspired by a girl that froze mid pit to start chatting me up because damn that was something #unbeta'd

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 months

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Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though...

“Next lad!”

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.

“Next lad!”

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.”

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?”

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.”

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes.

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?”

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.”

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie aolomons x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut

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generalsmemories · 6 months

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Ginkgo leaves

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: Since reqs are open, you think you could write jing yuans reaction to his lover being Mara-struck? Thank you! - requested by anonymous

✧ contents: established relationship, angst, hurt/almost no comfort lmfao, implied character death, mentions of other characters, pov mostly written in jing yuan's pov, still usage of 2nd pov (referring the reader as you), mayhaps ooc because jing yuan is an emotional wreck.

✧ a/n: when i tell ya'll i legit struggled to be able to write this entire thing. there's been like 3-4 scrapped drafts because halfway through writing i would just NOT be satisfied with the result. to the anon who requested this, i'm so sorry it took this long - but i hope the upcoming trainwreck makes up for it! a trainwreck im still not actually satisfied with LMFAO. but it's better than the other 5 scrapped works. also not beta-read so fellas if u see a spelling error - no you didn't.

p.s: some mara-struck information i give here are totally fanmade for the purpose of this fic alone, as such don't take whatever i write about mara here as what actually happens canonically to characters (then again most of the playable characters have different symptoms of mara themselves).

"Benefactor, am I correct to believe you're asking me if the general has any specific interests?" Tingyun asks with a snicker, the trailblazer looking away from her prying eyes while mumbling a quiet yes.

"Some of the younger... Can I call them younger? Anyway, some of the younger Xianzhou citizens are very infatuated with the general. Seeing as I've been announced as his honory guest, they do often come and ask me various things to try and gain his favor. So yeah, anything at this point will work - so please!" the trailblazer hurriedly explained, clasping their hands together in a desperate attempt to get anything from the foxian amicassador leaning back with a quirked eyebrow.

"Ahh, love truly makes someone go blind doesn't it," she muses out loud, the trailblazers' eyebrow furrowing together in confusion over the foxian's lady choice of words, "... You're not entirerely wrong with that statement..."

"Do you want to know what his favorite flower is?" Tingyun asks, ignoring the confused question that had been uttered to her, snapping her fan open to hide the cheeky smile that spread across her lips - but anyone could still tell that her eyes were gleaming with mischief as the trailblazer nodded their head.

"He doesn't have one."

"Then why did you even-"

"But he likes ginkgo leaves."

The trailblazers' eyes widened in shock, and rightfully so because the very thing ginkgo leaves are associated with are after all...

"He had a lover once, and as far as I'm aware, his last moment with them while they still had their consciousness intact was surrounded by ginkgo leaves."

Jing Yuan whilst having forgotten almost every single moment with you, does unfortunately remember the exact details of the day that your descent into madness started. Because what he witnessed wasn't a futile struggle you had with yourself to not to destroy everything within your vicinity. Instead, he witnessed the slow process of your bright self becoming an empty shell, only capable of uttering a few words.

It's comical really, even when faced with a curse that struck everyone mad - he found out that it oddly fit your character to not go mad, but instead become the complete opposite of your gentle self. A hollow shell of the person he fell in love with all centuries ago.

Jing Yuan knew he had to end your suffering right then and there when you first started to show signs.

But he couldn't - This wasn't something that had to be immediately dealt with, his hand wasn't forced like it was back when he had to slay his own master down before she took more lives.

No, this was a normal afternoon on what would've been another normal, mundane day in both of your lives. But everything went wrong the moment Jing Yuan heard the breaking of glass, and how there was a lone gingko leaf inside the palm of your hand - a ginkgo leaf that you were staring wide-eyed at with a trembling hand.

You were too far from the veranda to have a ginkgo leaf in your hand.

General Jing Yuan would've ended your suffering the moment you turned around to lock eyes with him, your own face twisted into one of utter fear.

General Jing Yuan would've reported you the to Ten-Lords Commissions as the law had stated. But Jing Yuan couldn't - because Jing Yuan knew that the moment he did, he would never see you again.

So he decided for once he would be selfish. Jing Yuan rarely made choices lately that was based off of his own feelings, but his time with you was cut too harshly, so once again he chooses to be selfish. Even if that meant that it would prolong your suffering just a tiny bit more. "... We can figure something out," was the only thing he could muster up the courage to say with a shaking voice. You didn't say anything, your mouth wobbling a tiny bit and your breathing getting harsher by the second.

But still you indulged him - you always did. So with an equally wobbly smile, you only nodded your head slightly, "... Sure."

That wobbly smile and expression of utter fear was the last genuine expression that truly came from yourself.

The descent to becoming fully mara-struck is usually a fast process, the curse able to completely overtake someone's mind within the same day the symptoms appears - rendering the person completely vulnerable with the only alternative to either hand themselves in to the Ten-Lords or wait for the Ten-Lords to come to them personally.

Your usual easy-going smile was gone, in its stead was eyes that kept going in and out of focus. Almost as if you were desperately trying to keep yourself grounded - a battle you both knew would end with your defeat.

Jing Yuan didn't dare to venture outside of the house. One step out and every Cloud Knight would've been on you within seconds to subdue you. He had first initially resorted to just holding you within his arms for as long as he could, to be able to remember how you felt like after your death.

But with the minimal strength you had left, you had wobbled to the garden, every step taken only making you pant heavily. But even with heavy breaths of air leaving your lips, you had refused to take Jing Yuans hand or offer to even carry you out to the garden. When you had managed to reach the ginkgo tree standing tall at the center of the garden, Jing Yuan was sure you were going to collapse in front of it, taking a quick step to catch you.

But instead you had merely reached your hands up, the falling leaves fluttering gently down onto your palms. And while you were in indescriable pain for the last couple of hours - Jing Yuan could only see a serene expression when you looked up at the ginkgo leaves that were continously falling down.

"... They're beautiful... aren't they... Jing Yuan? It's almost a pity... that these beautiful... leaves are associated with our doom," you said softly. Jing Yuan could feel his breath hitch in his throat when you uttered his name.

You're obviously struggling to convey whatever thoughts you still had to him properly, taking a moment in between words to catch your breath, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you fought against the searing pain that was spreading through every nerve in your body.

There's a sudden gust of wind which causes the pile of leaves in your hands to flutter away from your grasp. Your hand stretches out slightly, almost in an attempt to reach out for them - stumbling a bit in your step. The limp causes Jing Yuan to take a quick step forward with his arms outstretched. Perhaps seeing him in your peripheral vision causes you to stop the futile attempt to catch the escaping leaves, arms going limp against your side as you turn to face him - your once blank expression turning into a somber smile instead.

Jing Yuan thinks that it's unfair how normal you look in front of him - almost as if you haven't been becme mara-struck. Like nothing has happened to you aside from the ginkgo leaves fluttering from your lips whenever you cough. The same cough that causes the general of Luofu to flinch every time - without fail.

And perhaps you can see his inner turmoil, the way he tries to make eye contact with you, but is unable to after a few seconds. The way his hands clench too hard into fist to the point droplets of blood fall down to the grass and stains it a deep red while he bites his own lips to not say a word - lest he says something that he will regret.

And you truly wish that you could tell him everything is okay like you usually do.

But for the first time since the day he lost his friends, you can't.

"... I'm sorry," you finally say, the apology making him whip his head up to you again. Mouth opening to say something to comfort you, to tell you that it's not your fault. But the words are unable to leave his mouth when he sees your arms slightly outstretched towards him with a small smile.

And he can't hold it in anymore.

It only takes him a few wide steps to reach you from his position before he cradles you within his arms. The grip is tight, unbearably tight to the point it hurts, but you don't complain. You're limp in his hold, and if this was any day he wouldn't comment, but the fact that you're not moving a single muscle terrifies Jing Yuan to the core. "... Please," he finally manages to whisper, the rustling of ginkgo leaves around you almost drowning out his quiet plea.

"Please don't make me do this again."

He doesn't ask if the tensing of your body is caused by the pain that's rapidly increasing or if it's caused by his silent confession. He can however feel the gentle hand that rests against the lower part of his back and your head resting against the side of his own. The reassurance you try to give him does nothing to help because he's aware that it probably brought you unmeasurable pain to try to move those limbs - instead the general buries his face closer to your neck and squeezes you tighter.

"... You won't." you whisper quietly.

It takes a moment for Jing Yuan to process the meaning behind those two words.

But it's a moment too late, because before he can get his phone out to usher a command, a few resounding knocks can be heard throughout the quiet mansion.

"General Jing Yuan. This is Xueyi of the Ten-Lords commission. I've gotten information that there's currently a mara-struck within these premises."

Jing Yuan feels his blood run cold, he pulls himself away from you to stare at you properly in disbelief.

You're still staring at him with the same somber expression, however he can tell there's a small pitiful smile grazing your lips, "I'm sorry," you whisper once again.

"I asked her... personally," you start, finally letting yourself rest now that the end is near, slumping down onto Jing Yuan's chest, your ear settling itself against his heart to hear his rapid heartbeats.

Jing Yuan loathes the fact that it's at this moment, with the Ten-Lords commission outside of your door and with him completely broken do you actually look at peace - like your battle against time has finally come to its conclusion.

And naturally, the one who lost is you.

"Half a day... with you. Then she would come and bring me there. You won't have to... do this again."

You're not able to see Jing Yuan's face - and Jing Yuan wouldn't want you to see how he looked like right now. The arms around you is trembling, his mind is racing - trying to come up with anything to give him a bit more time with you.

But for once, the general that had a plan for every situation had nothing in mind.

He's lost. And the prize of the loss this time is losing you forever.

"General, I apologize for the rudeness of what I'm about to do, but this is for both of your safety," Jing Yuan hear Xueyi mutter from outside of the door, before he hears the rattling of the door frame start to slide open.

"Wait- no," it's a quiet request that gets ignored as Xueyi strides in alone, the lack of company making Jing Yuan's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"... Their last request along with the request for my late arrival here was for the Cloud Knights to not see you like this. Naturally I won't tell anyone of what I've seen today."

Jing Yuan doesn't care about that, he could care less about his image right now, pulling you closer to him while his eyes are downcast - he makes no move to hand you over to the judge.

The puppet judge before him does not say anything - nor does she make a move. What she does however is wait, wait for the general before her that has been utterly crushed and broken by the person in his arms start to accept the harsh truth once again.

If he doesn't handle the mara-struck himself, someone else would - but the end result only serves to punish him in the end, the one left behind.

Xueyi hears a silent breath be let out by the general, her once closed eyes opening up to see the general pull slightly away from you, one hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. Your eyes have long since closed, and you're most likely not even conscious to hear what he's about to say.

"My dear... I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. But I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer before we can meet again," he whispers, bumping his forehead against your own gently, "I hope you won't fault me for that."

A long ginkgo leaf flutters right between the two of you, eventually settling down on your chest.

Jing Yuan sucks in one last deep breath, "I'm sorry I kept you here for so long - I'm sorry you had to be in pain for so long because of me," he leans in to slot his lips one last time over your own, whispering something that Xueyi can't hear before he rises up, your body limp in his arms.

"Thank you for your service Miss Xueyi, please see them off appropiately." Jing Yuan says, voice sounding eerily calm - almost like his usual self.

When he turns around to finally face her, the puppet's lifeless eyes seem to grow a bit in surprise. Before her is the general of Luofu, his usual easy-going smile present on his lips.

Like he wasn't carrying his mara-struck lover in his arms.

"As much as I would want to accompany you to see them off, I'm afraid I have some urgent matters to attend to," he informs, handing your body over to Xueyi - she doesn't comment on how his hands are still slightly trembling or how he immediately turned a bit to the side to ignore staring at her head-on.

Even though Xueyi doesn't want to ask, she still asks either way, "What are your plans from here on, general?"

Jing Yuan only gives her a close eyed smile, turning his gaze towards the large ginkgo tree with his hands behind his back. He gnaws a tiny bit at his lips, finally breathing out.

A couple of seconds passes by before he opens his mouth.

"I think I'll meditate a bit under this tree before heading back to the Seat. I can't leave Luofu without me for too long after all."

5 SCRAPPED WORKS AND I'M STILL NOT ACTUALLY THAT SATISFIED BUT IF I KEEP THIS PIECE LONGER IN THE WORKS THE MORE I'LL BUTCHER IT SO HAHA - THIS IS THE BEST WE CAN DO AFTER 3 MONTHS OF CONSTANT BACK AND FORTH FELLAS. I HOPE IT SQUEEZED YOUR HEART A TINY BIT NONETHELESS.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail x you #honkai star rail angst #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan angst

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cozage · 7 months

Note

Could you do one for Law, Ace, Kid, (maybe Killer) for if they notice you hiding anxiety spells or attacks? This is something I struggle with personally because of feeling like a burden. A lot better than when I was a teenager but I still struggle with this at almost 21 😅

Characters: gn reader x Law, Ace, Kid Cw: panic attacks Total word count: 650

Hiding Panic Attacks

Law

Law would notice it right away. He notices because he’s familiar with the symptoms.

He gets it. Because big crowds, loud and sudden noises, the random onset of your heart beating so fast you think it’s going to beat right out of your chest? They aren’t foreign feelings to him.

Sometimes he notices it before you do. He’s so in tune to you and your body that he can sense when you stiffen slightly, or when you start to stare off into nothing.

Sometimes, if you’re just disassociating, he lets you be. He knows that social settings can be overwhelming for you, and sometimes you need a mental break. If the crew asks you a question, he answers it for you. Eventually the crew learns to just let you be when you start to “zone off” like that.

But when you start to antsy and fidgeting, he instantly removes you from the situation. He’ll grab your hand and ground you, and lead you away from the noise and the people to a quiet space for you to relax and breathe for a moment.

Usually he’s on top of it and gets to you before you’re in full blown panic mode. But if not, he’ll walk you through a grounding technique and stay with you until you’re okay again.

Ace

Listen…Ace is pretty dumb. He’s the life of the party. He lives for the action and excitement of the world.

So he doesn’t get why you always go to bed early or leave at random times. Not until Marco explains it to him.

And that’s when he realizes that HE has panic attacks too. He just thought it was something only he experienced and was a weird random thing. But now he realizes a lot of people experience it. You experience it.

Suddenly, Portgas D. Ace isn’t the life of the party anymore. Sure, he gets it going. But he keeps you close to him, and when he sees you start to mentally check out, he says goodnight to everyone and takes you to bed.

He ignores the jeering from people talking about how whipped he is now. “Sorry fellas,” he’ll laugh. “I know you’re jealous, but I only belong to one person.”

When it’s just the two of you alone, he’ll give you whatever you need. Space, cuddles, massage, shower, etc. You name it, he’ll do it.

Kid

Kid doesn’t get it. But he can see you’re distraught. He’s just not sure why.

“What’s going on?” he’ll ask. “You look mad.”

Even though you assure him everything is fine, he doesn’t buy it. Something is up with you, and he can’t help but feel like you’re hiding something from him. You look so nervous.

He offers to take you to a quiet space, to which you reluctantly agree. You never wanted to cause problems for anyone.

He makes you talk to him. He tilts your chin up so you can look him in the eye. He can tell you’re jumpy, which is strange considering all the times you tell him how safe you feel with him. A part of him is a little hurt. Until you explain it, and he realizes you’re not scared. You’re just having an anxiety attack.

Once he realizes that, he bundles you up into his arms and he takes you to bed. He covers you with kisses and tells you stories, weaving his hands through your hair to keep you in the moment with him.

He makes sure to keep your breathing steady, and he will even talk in a rhythmic way to encourage your breathing to slow down if you start to get too panicked. He’ll always be there for you, and he’s determined to prove that to you.

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girlbossblackbeard · 7 months

Text

I think I'm actually going clinically insane over the reverse "you wear fine things well" scene because 1) if Ed looked at me Like That it would be game over I would literally do anything he asked me up to and including throwing myself overboard I literally do not know how Stede didn't legitimately spontaneously combust the second Ed turned those eyes on him 2) GNOSSIENNE NO.5 FINALLY BEING USED THIS SEASON AS A JOYOUS MARKER OF ED AND STEDE'S LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AS GOD INTENDED THIS IS NOT A DRILL HOLY SHIT 3) THEIR FUCKIN!!!!!!!! COY TEENAGER SHY LITTLE SHUFFLE TOWARDS EACH OTHER RIGHT BEFORE THEY KISS!!!!!! THE WAY STEDE EVEN LOOKS AWAY FOR A SECOND BEFORE LOOKING BACK AT ED AND ED'S TINIEST LITTLE SMIRK BEFORE THEY BOTH LEAN IN WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4) the way they grab each other's arm during the initial kiss I'm so sick to my stomach 5) THE MOON Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S NORMAL!!!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE THIS ISN'T A MOONLIGHT FANTASY OR AN INFATUATION THAT FEELS LARGER THAN LIFE BUT BURNS OUT QUICKLY!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS REAL AND IT'S RAW AND IT'S VULNERABLE AND IT'S GONNA LAST BECAUSE THIS NEW CHAPTER OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS BEING FOUNDED ON DOING EVERYTHING THEY CAN TO NOT LET THIS PRECIOUS THING THEY'VE FOUND WITH EACH OTHER TURN INTO ANOTHER WHIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LITERALLY GOING TO START FEROCIOUSLY CLIMBING THE WALLS 6) hoooooooly fuck the way stede inhales and grasps Ed's neck like he's a man lost at sea dying of dehydration and Ed is the first sip of cool clean water he's had in months im ill im so so so so ill 7) ED'S LITTLE SHUFFLE AFTER ASKING STEDE TO TAKE IT SLOW SIR IM BEGGING YOU TO STOP BEING SO ADORABLE it's causing me to develop a heart condition 8) stede's quiet "huh, okay 😌" after Ed busts out his fish wanting to get caught metaphor he's literally so charmed by Ed it seeps into everything he does 9) WEHN THYE!!!!!!!! HOODL AHNDS!!!!!!!!!!! HAND TOCUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10) the way Ed is staring stede DIRECTLY in the eyes as he says "this? perfect" my vision is going black 11) SHUT IP SHUT UP SHUT UPPPPPPP THEIR SILLY LITTLE HAND HOLDING GAME AND STEDE WHUSPERING "you won 🥰" AND ED'S BLUSHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SMILE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AS HE LOOKS AWAY AND PATS STEDE'S HANDS BEFORE TELLING HIM A COOL FACT HE LEARNED TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY! ARE! LITERALLY! TEENAGERS! FALLING! IN! LOVE! FOR! THE! FIRST! TIME! EVER! oh I am in desperate need of medical attention after this one fellas I can tell this is going to have extremely long lasting and far reaching effects on my already severely compromised psyche

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd s2 #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 spoilers

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ihavemanyhusbands · 12 days

Text

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART TWO: RABBIT HEARTED

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 3.8k words

Chapter Summary: During your journey, tension rises between you and the ghoul... but not the kind you expected. You'd built a solid enough rapport, but you found that you both wanted so much more than just that. And so, you let him get a taste.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, animal hunt at the beginning of chapter, nudity (both sexual and non-sexual), masturbation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talking, sorta dom/sub dynamics, a little bit of chasing, outdoor shenanigans, a little bit of degradation, not really any aftercare in this one but pls always practice it irl, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

---------

A flash of brown fur slipping through the underbrush immediately made you still. You kept your eyes peeled for the smallest movement, breathing as quietly as possible… and there it was, a little rabbit. Nose twitching, ears standing at attention, eyes dark and wide.

Slowly, you raised your crossbow – which you had luckily been able to recover along with part of your pack, another little courtesy of the ghoul – and aimed at its throat. A slow breath expanding your lungs as your finger came to rest on the trigger.

A reedy squeak as the makeshift bolt pierced through, and it slumped on its side. You smiled to yourself victoriously, bending down to retrieve the carcass, hooking it next to the other one already hanging from your belt. It wasn’t much, but it’d get you through the next day if you rationed it well.

The ghoul had, of course, made you the one in charge of food. You’d been hunting for yourself for as long as you could remember, so it wasn’t an outlandish order, but that didn’t mean you weren’t huffy about it.

At the very least, it meant he wouldn’t keep you tied to him at all times.

A few days of strenuous trekking had passed, and while you were keenly observant of your surroundings, you had not attempted escape once. In fact, you never strayed too far, knowing he could find and retrieve you with ridiculous ease.

But it wasn’t just that. This was the closest you’d ever been to finding Axl, and even if you knew you couldn’t — shouldn’t — fully believe the ghoul’s word, the fact that he had saved your life had to mean something.

Then again, he probably just wanted someone to keep him fed, but only time would tell. For now, you had to keep pushing forward, taking the days as they came.

Tired, you stalked over to a rock outcropping that overlooked the sandy wasteland below. The silence was only vaguely punctuated by a breeze that made you all too aware of how your tattered clothes clung to your sweaty skin.

It was spring, so the sun wasn’t at its most brutal, but walking, and climbing, and hunting for hours every day still took a toll on you. Not to mention, nearly being brutally killed.

Oh, how you yearned for at least a bucket of clean water to wash yourself off.

The last time you’d been able to do so was when you’d stopped in Filly to restock on some supplies. You were running dangerously low on caps, which prompted the ghoul to offer you a loan.

“We could figure out the interest later,” he’d said with a wink. “I can be a generous fella, believe it or not.”

But you had declined, already knowing well what loans in the wasteland entailed. Perhaps you could take an odd job or two at your next stop, but that depended on how long the ghoul would be willing to linger.

In the meantime, you chose the temporary reprieve of sunning your bare skin and letting the breeze caress it. It wasn’t like you were in a huge rush, anyway, and you desperately needed some time to yourself. You glanced around and kept your ears open to make sure you were alone.

Deftly, you stripped and laid your clothes out so they could also get some sun. You kept your old, wide-brimmed straw hat on to shield your eyes as you looked out at the horizon for a lingering moment.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself forget the world was an unfair shithole… save for small instances like this one, feeling something akin to peace. You weren’t sure how much time passed, briefly entering a meditative state.

Then you heard it, heavy footsteps emerging from the sparse treeline.

“Jus what the hell is takin’ you so lo— Oh, my. Well, lookie here…”

Your entire body froze, every single one of your nerve endings tingling with awareness. Still, you didn’t try to cover yourself — if anything, as an act of defiance, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how he rattled you. Plus, nudity wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary in today’s society.

“See something interesting?” You asked casually, glancing at him over your shoulder.

You were startled by the hunger in his gaze, a sly, brazen smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes snagged on the sweat dotting the small of your back, the smooth expanse of your legs, and the curvature of your ass.

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen, darlin’,” he drawled. “But, boy, if that ain’t a sweet lookin’ peach…”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms below your chest. He let out a low whistle at the sight, hairless eyebrows raising. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, threatening to break through.

“Can a lady not have some privacy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in return and trying not to squirm as his eyes continued to roam.

He huffed in amusement. “You out here in your birthday suit like we at a fuckin’ meat market, what’s the difference if I’m watchin’?”

A small, traitorous thought slipped into your head then — the difference is, I don’t know if I mind too much that you’re looking at me like that… but that can’t be right.

Desire was not uncommon in the wasteland. You’d seen it glinting dangerously in the eyes of strangers as you’d passed, leering grins and rapacious hands sometimes following. You’d heard the sounds of it coming from abandoned places, in little nooks and crannies that were just right for a tryst.

It was a marvel, at that moment, that even a monster could be affected by it… while also managing to affect you in return.

You had experienced it only a handful of times, but it had rarely been fulfilled. Somehow, though, the ghoul’s gaze had left a fiery imprint on your skin, clinging like an afterthought. Or perhaps a promise.

Instead of insisting he leave, you began redressing, not too quickly as to seem desperate, but also not too slowly as to make it seem like a seduction. You strapped on your pack and your crossbow last, walking past him without a word, bumping your arm against his.

His chuckle trailed after you as you made your way back towards the small camp you’d set up in an abandoned building. While you’d been off hunting, he’d scoped out the place to make sure there were no fiends or mutants lurking about.

Down in the basement, he built a fire as you skinned the rabbits, only preparing one of them for cooking. You already knew he mostly preferred his meals… raw.

He ate quickly, ravenously even, as you waited for your strips of meat to finish cooking. Then you heard him inhale chem – RadAway, by the looks of it – from a canister, coughing a few times before letting out a long, relaxed sigh.

You watched him sidelong, still trying to figure out the riddle of the man whose name you didn’t even know.

“So… are you ever gonna tell me why you’re looking for Axl?”

“I already told ya, girl, it ain’t none of your goddamn business,” he said slowly, not looking at you as he settled back against the wall.

You scoffed. “Don’t I have the right to know at least a little bit more about who is herding me along?”

“Y’ain’t got the right to much of anythin’ ‘round these parts,” he said. “Ain’t you a surface dweller?”

You nodded, inclined in part to get defensive over your knowledge of things, but at the same time… It had been so long since you’d had the opportunity to confide in someone else. Not that he was ideal for it, but you had to admit that having company was quite nice.

It highlighted your loneliness, too, and you had to believe that he wasn’t all too different from you in that respect. You stared at the licking flames in front of you, your mind wandering further away.

“My father was a courier for one of the vaults. We only had each other, so he didn’t like leaving me anywhere. Not even when the vault’s overseer offered to take me in so they could care for me,” you said with a slight shake of your head. “He taught me everything I know, even how to fight.”

“Sounds like he was a smart man,” the ghoul commented idly. “Not leavin’ you to rot in them underground prisons.”

You smiled ever so slightly, pleased and surprised to hear his small praise for your father. You felt yourself relax, having been prepared for a fight. Finally, you were able to start eating, making sure to do it slowly as you were distracted down memory lane.

“He was, and I’m grateful for it,” you said. “Shitty as it can be out here, I like the open air, the sun, even the damn rad rains that leave me sick the next day.”

He grunted at that. “What ‘bout ghouls? You like us, too?”

You looked back at him, your smile turning cryptic. “Not all of them.”

A flash of teeth, tongue darting between them. “Well, ain’t much a mean motherfucker like me can do to convince ya.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve.”

“You betcha, I do. Gonna ask me for a demonstration, smoothie?”

At this, silence, coiling tight like a viper readying to strike. You stared at each other, challenging, willing one another to break first. To what end, though? Your stomach flipped at the possibilities.

Before you could think it through — knowing deep down you ought to shut it down completely — you said, “Not tonight.”

You quickly looked away, hands trembling slightly from an influx of adrenaline, your heart racing once more. You painstakingly put away the rest of your rations of rabbit, stomach still feeling hollow. Though you were distracted by the stirring of something unnameable within you, all too similar to curiosity.

He was loose and languid, in a better mood than most of the time. Bantering like this was more fun than you’d thought it would be, only making you want more. It seemed he was full of surprises, which meant you couldn’t be too unguarded, no matter how much he might make you laugh.

Or how he seemed to be drawing you in slowly, like a moth to a flame.

———————————-

Those confusing feelings followed you into sleep, plaguing your dreams with images that had you restless and whimpering. Your body felt hypersensitive and warm all over, but still, you didn’t wake.

The ghoul, who didn’t really need to sleep, was privy to all this. He watched from his spot against the wall, the way you tossed and turned, little noises in your throat. He knew it wasn’t nightmares, not with the way your thighs would rub together. You weren’t exactly a peaceful sleeper, but that was the first time it was due to something else — Something he himself had caused.

All the rest of that day, he’d been stuck thinking of the moment he’d found you. The instant lure of your soft skin, the challenge in your eyes, and your raised chin. Distantly, he remembered the myth of an ancient goddess ordering hunting dogs to tear their own master apart, merely for looking at her naked form.

Wouldn’t that be an interesting fate? he thought to himself, not at all put off by it, especially if the goddess happened to look just like you.

Throughout the darkest hours of the night, he’d tried palming himself to ease the building ache, but to no avail. So, as quietly as he could, he’d relieved himself listening to the sounds you made, his eyes closed. Imagining his face buried in your cunt, head nestled between your trembling legs. It didn’t take long at all for him to finish.

In the morning, by the time you’d woken up, he had returned to his usual self. He made you share your rations, arguing that you’d go hunting later, anyway. Barely gave you any time to reorganize your pack before he was dragging you out of the basement to check the perimeter for anything salvageable.

Neither of you addressed the previous evening, but there were still lingering looks, excuses to be in each other’s space, and twice as much bickering. The fuse between you two was short, you knew it, but it was all a matter of who lit it.

“How many more days north?” you asked as you’d finally set off, a long day of walking ahead of you.

“A week, then we shift west for another week,” he said, walking behind you as usual. “I better not hear you start complainin’. You slow me down, I’ll leave your ass behind, perky as it may be.”

You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little at that. “How do you know I won’t drop you first?”

“Oh, I know. You need me, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently. “In more than one way.”

You rolled your eyes but had no retort, since he wasn’t altogether wrong. Then your mind pivoted in a more devious direction, wanting to test another theory. It was a foolish risk to take, one that made adrenaline tense your muscles, rabbit heart jackhammering inside your ribcage. You glanced coquettishly at him over your shoulder, and by your grin, he immediately knew something was up.

“And if I ran?”

“Don’t go actin’ stupid now, I think you know the consequences of that, too,” he said, his tone somehow both a warning and a dare.

You hummed pensively, covertly making sure your pack was securely strapped to you. You let the silence hang until you rounded a corner up the path, and then your legs were pumping as hard as they would go. A broad, exhilarated smile on your face, nervous laughter bubbling up your throat.

You heard his yell, followed by his heavy footfalls, approaching much faster than you would’ve liked. A shot burst against a tree trunk as you passed, but you knew he was just trying to scare you. Wincing, you kept running, winding left and right in a zig-zag pattern.

Not that you were actually planning on going anywhere, but you had always had a thing for pushing the limits. No matter how much trouble it might get you in.

Spurs clinking growing louder, then the swish of something being thrown. The lasso encircled you, tightening around your midsection before yanking backward. The world around you pinwheeled, disorienting you for a moment.

Your pack braced your fall some, but you exhaled sharply as you landed. Chest heaving as you panted raggedly, your vision suddenly filled with the ghoul smirking down at you.

“Well, I guess stupidity can’t be helped, huh?” He drawled, propping his revolver pistol on his shoulder and crouching down. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d wager you were just tryin’ to get me all riled up…”

“Me?” You said innocently, betrayed by a teasing grin.

And oh, if that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back. He grabbed you by the shirt and lifted your torso to meet him halfway, your faces inches apart.

“Think I’m playin’ around, sweetheart?” He husked.

You shook your head and licked your lips, drawing his eyes there. You saw the hunger in them again, flaring to life brighter than before. You felt a pulse deep in your core, the flint striking to start the fire.

You bit your bottom lip, keeping yourself from squirming, and he grunted.

“Hm. No, I don’t think I’ve convinced you well enough, actually.” He tilted his head to one side, eyes returning to yours. “I think I oughta give you more proof.”

His grip on your shirt tightened and you realized too late what he was going to do.

“Wait!” You gasped, but the thin fabric had already given away, messily ripping in half.

You glared up at him. “That was my only backup! Couldn’t you at least let me take it off?”

“Fuck if I care,” he said with a shrug, a low sound in his throat as he pushed the rest of it off of you. “It was in the way.”

He withdrew his hands only to slowly tug his gloves off, dropping them unceremoniously on the ground along with his pistol. His hands were warm and callused as they roamed over the expanse of your abdomen, heading upwards.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned as he reached your bra, but he only tugged it down, revealing your breasts.

The sound he tried to conceal made your spine tingle, shoulders drawing together, pushing your chest out.

“Goddamn, sweetheart. Such a nice pair of tits,” he husked, pulling a shuddery sound from you as his hands cupped them.

A little bolt of electricity shooting down to your pussy as he pinched your nipples, hard. Brows furrowing with the combination of pleasure and pain.

“Take this fuckin’ thing off before I rip it off with my teeth,” he growled, a desperate edge beneath his biting tone. “Matter of fact, take the rest of your clothes off.”

You did quick work of unsnapping your bra and wiggling out of the straps of your pack. He shrugged off his coat and moved back to sit against the base of an old, gnarled tree, watching you closely as you kicked your boots off. The shift of your hips as you pushed down your pants, surely teasing him by keeping your cotton panties on.

“Those too,” he grunted, one hand on his pistol, the other palming the prominent bulge in his pants.

You let them drop with the rest of your things, slowly approaching as he beckoned you, patting his thigh. He pulled you down onto his lap when you were close enough. Raising his hips as you settled, pushing his bulge against your cunt.

“Now look at me,” he said as your mouth slackened, grasping your chin. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, pushing it down, fighting back the ravenous urge to kiss you. “I ain’t gonna take you today, but I will get myself a taste.”

The tip of your tongue darted over the pad of his thumb. A lazy drag of your hips against him made your breathing hitch, but still there was mischief in your eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be able to resist?”

“Oh, I’m positive, honey. I don’t fuck brats,” he said, grinning roguishly. “Not ‘til I tame ‘em first.”

One of his hands came to rest between your shoulder blades, pushing you forward. The other hand cracked down against your ass, making your body jerk. Then he had his mouth on you, lips closing around the hardened peak of your left nipple.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you moaned, clenching around nothing as he nipped at the sensitive flesh. He continued sucking and licking at your chest, the hand that had spanked you tracing lower. The tips of his fingers reaching your cunt from behind, teasing the entrance.

“My… you’re soaked already,” he rasped against your skin, moving to give your collarbones some attention. “Y’like the idea of being punished, don’tcha? Filthy girl.”

He felt your walls flutter at that, cunt sucking a little more of his fingers in.

“Please,” you gasped mindlessly, knowing you would beg if it came down to it.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he gruffed, making you yelp with a bite to your shoulder. “On your back.”

It was said as an order, but he manhandled you onto your back, on top of the coat he’d shrugged off earlier. Rough hands pushed your thighs apart, putting you on display for him. A ragged sound, and his fingers were parting your soaked, glistening folds.

“What a feast,” he rasped. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding quickly. “All yours.”

“Atta girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

With that, his head dipped and you felt the first exploratory drag of his tongue. A puff of warm air against your cunt as he groaned, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit teasingly.

Your hips bucked, gripping the fabric of his duster beneath you for dear life. His tongue dipped into the source of your ache, the taste of you pulling another long groan out of him.

“Fuck, such a sweet little pussy you’ve got. And I think it likes me, too,” he said before smearing his saliva and your fluids all over, making a mess of your inner thighs. “Jus’ keeps getting wetter and wetter for me.”

“Keep going, please,” you panted, looking down at him through fluttering lashes. “Feels s-so good…”

“Oh yeah? Does it now?”

You keened as you felt two of his fingers pushing inside of you. His other hand pressed flat against your navel, keeping you from bucking away from him. He couldn’t help himself, his tongue flicking against your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

He felt you start to tremble, your thighs threatening to shut around his head. He started going faster.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” the expletive fell from your wanton mouth like a plea, for mercy or… otherwise. “I-I’m… I’m gonna…”

He grunted his approval, feeling you clamp tight around his fingers. His fingers curled, hitting that textured spot inside you that had stars dancing in your vision. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you practically cartwheeled over the edge, ripples of ecstasy numbing all other senses.

It was the hardest you’d ever orgasmed, and he helped you ride it all the way through. Languished in the cradle of your thighs for a moment longer as your loud moans tapered out into soft whines. When your soul started to slip back into your body, head still swimming, he pulled away and stood up.

He angled his hips away so you couldn’t see the mess at the front of his pants. Heart pounding in his chest in a way that made him feel alive and whole again, erasing the last two hundred plus years from his mind for a mere moment in time.

But he gave no indication of it. Nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just entirely shattered you, he walked towards your clothes and tossed you your underwear.

“Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he said, his voice still ragged as he commanded you. “Quickly now, we ain’t got all day. I’ll let ya rest when we get to the next spot.”

Dazed and wobbly-legged, you did as told, wondering how you were supposed to hike for hours after that. He watched you stumble to get your canteen, water dripping down your chin as you drank.

Chuckled to himself with self-satisfaction, the taste of you seared into his mind.

“Maybe you are starting to change my mind ‘bout what I put in my mouth,” he said as you finished dressing. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll need to try again to confirm.”

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cheynovak · 1 month

Text

Payback

Soldier boy x F/ plus size reader

Warnings: 18+, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, age difference, body shaming, just a LOT of SMUT.

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

*Does not follow The Boys storyline *

Story:

A few years ago, Y/N an old friend high school friend of Hughie, was the most beautiful girl in school, or so did her boyfriend think. She was the only girl who wasn’t a cheerleader or popular IT girl that got the quarterbacks attention. Now years later, Y/N finds out her man has been cheating on her for some time.

“I can’t believe you two are still together.” Hughie said smiling, he looked at Annie “Y/N was the only girl in school this fella had eyes for, and it took him quite some time to convince her to go out on a date with him. You are a very lucky man, Jack.” Jack swirled his drink around “I used to maybe. But now a days... she just doesn’t seem to be taking care about herself anymore.”

Hughie, Annie and Soldier Boy had just stepped into their house. Hughie needed a place to stay for the night, just to lay low and the only person he knew in town was Y/N. Who was she to say no to her oldest best friend.

Soldier boy didn’t seem to want to join their reunion, so he asked for his room. Y/N had just shown him and was walking back, now here she stood, listening to what Jack was saying, hiding in the hallway.

His voice floated to her on a current of disbelief and hurt. "She put on so much weight, man. I don't know what to do. I'm just not as attracted to her anymore."

Y/N's heart broke.

She felt the weight of his criticisms pressing down on her, each syllable a cruel reminder of her insecurities. "Her thighs are massive, ass to thick, her breasts used to fit in the palm of my hand, perfect. Oh, and don’t get me started on her stretch marks," Jack's voice echoed.

"What we used to call not fuck-worthy," he scoffed. Leaving Hughie and Annie speechless. “I’m sure you are over reacting?” Annie tried to lighten the air. "Yeah." Hughie added. "She didn't gained that much."

Is that why he didn’t touch her anymore Y/N though, eyes filling with tears. “Than why are you still with her if looks are so important?” Hughie asked slightly irritated. “Guilt, we wanted a kid that didn’t work and now she gained weight, eating her feelings away."

"Fuck Hughie you should see her without clothes, man, I’ll turn off the light just to fuck her.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N is amazing, I don’t see a difference from my best friend in high school.” Hughie spoke soft. "You liked her curves back then" “Then you need glasses buddy. She was perfect then, but now? Na-ah.” Jack said standing up.

Y/N heard the chair moving, not wanting to get caught sneaking around, she took a step back and turned quickly. She stumbled, and bumped into Ben, whose silent figure stood behind her.

He looked down at her, she could swear she could see the pity in his eyes. “E-excuse me.” she whispered before wanting to pass him, to hide in the bedroom. But Jack just opened the door to the hall looking at Ben and Y/N standing close looking in each other's eyes.

“Sweety, it’s dinner time. Why don’t you get started, I’m sure our guests are hungry.” Jack’s voice changed to this normal caring guy. “I’ll be right there.” She said holding back tears, rushing to the kitchen.

Leaving Ben in the hall alone.

Y/N's heart felt heavy with the weight of her own vulnerability as she retreated to the kitchen. Her movements were slow, weighed down by the echoes of Jack's hurtful words and the ache of betrayal that lingered in the air.

Ben's gaze followed her every move, his eyes tracing the curve of her silhouette he couldn’t see what Jack’s problem was. Lost in her own thoughts, Y/N was unaware of the dark fantasies that danced behind Ben's eyes, the primal urges that stirred within him at the sight of her curves.

In that moment, she was nothing more than a muse, a tantalizing vision that fuelled his desires. When she walked out the kitchen to put the food on the table their eyes meet for a split second.

He found himself imagining what it would be like if she were his girl. She seemed like wifey material to him, something he wanted once long, long time ago. She cooks, the house is clean and is probably a firecracker in the bedroom.

His thoughts wandered into forbidden territory, his mind conjuring vivid images of running his hands over her soft skin, of tracing the contours of her body with eager fingers. He imagined the taste of her lips, kneading her skin, the sound of her voice as she whispered his name in the heat of passion.

As the dinner was served Jack decided to bring out the good stuff to drink. It wasn’t everyday two superheroes were joining you at dinner. As Jack's words slurred with each sip of alcohol, “So, soldier boy, I heard you were quite active in your days. How many women did you have?”

Ben looked up his eyes moving from Jack to Y/N and back. “I don’t keep count.” He said unimpressed. “I bet women were different then ay? You’ve seen them all, what was your favourite type? ”

Y/N felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The question was innocent enough on the surface, but the underlying implications sent a shiver down his spine. Leaving both Annie and Hughie speechless.

"Favourite type of woman, huh?" Ben's echoed his question. "I don't know, man. I guess I don't really have a type. I’ve fucked women in every decade."

But Jack was persisted, as Ben’s gaze flicking over to Y/N for a split second.

"Come on, everyone has a type. What gets you going?"

"If you put it that way, I don't mind a woman with a bit of...curves."

His words hung heavy in the air, the tension palpable as Ben's gaze lingered on Y/N, his intentions unmistakable.

Leaving Y/N blushing bright red. Jack’s discomfort grew as Ben pressed and gave even more details, while he took another bite.

"There's something...special about them, you know? The way you can feel the softness of their flesh beneath your fingertips, the way their skin yields to your touch. How you can knead their flesh while pounding into them."

He paused, his words hanging in the air as he locked eyes with Y/N, who by now was unable to look away, stunned yet ashamed. "And when you're with them," he continued, his voice growing deeper.

"There's this...intimacy that comes from seeing their bodies move, feeling the rhythm of their curves as you...as you thrust inside, and when you take them hard, there is no need to be afraid to break them."

Everyone at the table was quiet, unable to form words. “But that is just my preference.” Ben added before he placed his fork on his plate. “It is delicious.” He said to Y/N handing her his plate.

Y/N retrieved to the kitchen, cheeks blushing unable to sit across from him or besides Jack for that matter.

Her hands moving mechanically as she scrubbed at the dishes, her mind still reeling from the uncomfortable conversation at the table. She felt Ben's presence behind her, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the kitchen.

"You know, you really didn't need to do that," Y/N spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she addressed Ben still looking down at the soapy water. "Do what?" Ben's voice was gentle, tinged with curiosity as he stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her body.

Y/N sighed, setting the dish she was washing aside before turning to face him. "Defend me like that," she said, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "You didn't have to speak up for me. I know there are a million different body types more attractive than this.”

Ben's eyes darkened as he met Y/N's gaze, a sincerity shining through the depths of his gaze. "I meant every word," he said, his voice steady and sure.

Y/N had no idea how to cope with his flirtations, trying to lose him by walking to the garage to empty the trashcan from the kitchen. Ben followed quietly, his eyes tracing the curve of her silhouette with a mixture of admiration and longing. His footsteps fell in sync with hers.

“Listen Soldier boy. I..” - “It’s Ben.” He interrupted her. “What?”

“My name is Ben, sweetheart.” - “Ok, Ben... I don’t get what you are trying to do here but... It’s not working.”

Ben’s hand moved over her mouth as he rested his index over his lips. The warmth of his hand spread a jolt of heat through her veins. For a split second she imagined how his hands would feel on her body.

“Listen.” Ben whispered.

Jack's voice, drifting through the stillness of the garage like a ghostly whisper. Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat as the words registered in her mind.

"I miss you too, sweety" Jack's voice crackled over the phone, the desperation palpable even from a distance. "I need you, baby. I need to feel you, fuck I’m so horny. Can I see you tonight?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach as the full weight of Jack's betrayal washed over her. She felt as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath her.

Beside her, Ben tensed, his jaw clenching with the effort to contain his anger. He had heard enough to know that Jack's infidelity ran deeper than mere words, deeper than a fleeting moment of weakness. But as he glanced at Y/N, her face pale and drawn with shock.

With a gentle touch, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, as they stood together in the quiet sanctuary of the garage. He could see the gears in her head spinning.

As the weight of Jack's betrayal hung heavy in the air, Ben felt a desperate need to break the tension, to lighten the suffocating atmosphere, "Well, if you're looking for payback," Ben quipped, his voice strained with forced cheerfulness, "you could always...Fuck me."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flickering uncertainly between Ben and the ground beneath her feet. “What? No!” "I...I appreciate the offer, Ben, but...I don't think that's the answer." Her voice shook slightly.

“Your loss.” he walked back to the living room. Seeing how Jack quickly ran toward the kitchen. "I...I have to go," Jack muttered, his words tinged with a sense of urgency. "Work needs me. You understand, right?"

Y/N's gaze flickered to Ben. They both knew the truth, knew that Jack's sudden departure had nothing to do with work and everything to do with his mistress.

Y/N nodded numbly, her voice barely above a whisper as she replied, "Of course, Jack. I understand."

As the evening wore on and the house gradually quieted, Hughie and Annie bid their farewells, retreating to their room. Ben and Y/N found themselves sitting together in the dimly lit living room.

Ben shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering uncertainly as he struggled to find the right words to break the tension.

Y/N, too, felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a heavy burden.

As Y/N turned to leave the room, trying to get away of the hungry looks Ben gave her. As she bends down to grab a drink from the fridge she felt a sudden presence behind her, a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could react, Ben's gentle touch caressed her curves, his fingertips tracing the contours of her body. A soft gasp escaped Y/N's lips. She turned to face him, her heart pounding in her chest as she met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes sending a thrill coursing through her veins.

"How long has it been since Jack touched you?" Ben's voice was barely above a whisper, his words hanging in the air between them like a heavy weight.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing as she struggled to find the words to respond. She hadn't dared to admit it, not even to herself. "Too long," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of longing and regret.

“Did he... satisfy you?” Ben asks, eyes still roaming her body. Y/N hesitated, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "It's been a long time since I've felt...truly satisfied." Y/N could hear a soft growl in the back of Ben’s throat. “If you ever need...someone to make you feel truly satisfied, I'm here. Let me know."

Y/N's legs felt like jelly beneath her, her resolve weakening in the face of Ben's teasing words and the electric tension that crackled between them. She longed to give in, to surrender to the magnetic pull that drew her towards him like a moth to a flame.

Ben's playful smirk sent a thrill coursing through her veins. "Come on, Y/N," he teased, his voice low and husky close to her ear. "You know you want to give in to the temptation. Get fucked by a real man."

She thought of Jack for a second. What did she had to lose? With a hesitant smile, she leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from his. "Maybe I do," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Y/N's lips brushed against his in a fleeting kiss. Pulling back slightly, Ben's eyes met Y/N's with an intense heat, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "You have no idea what I want to do to you. “

His gaze darkened with longing as he traced a feather-light trail down the curve of her neck, his lips hovering just inches from her skin. "I want to worship every inch of your body," he breathed, his voice thick with passion. "I want to make you feel things you've never felt before, pleasure beyond your wildest dreams."

Leaning in closer, Ben's touch grew more urgent, his hands moving with a newfound intensity as he traced the contours of her body with a fierce hunger. His fingers dug into her skin with a possessiveness that left her breathless, a silent promise of the passion to come.

"I would make you mine," he growled, his voice low and guttural with desire. "I would claim you, leaving my mark on your skin.

In a haze of desire and urgency, Ben's hands moved with a primal determination as he guided Y/N towards the bedroom, the heat of their passion fuelling their every movement. With each step, the tension between them crackled like lightning in the air.

As they reached the bedroom, Ben's fingers grew rougher, more insistent, as he tore at the fabric of her clothing from needing desire. The sound of ripping fabric echoed in the silence of the room, a symphony of urgency that drowned out all other thoughts.

His eyes traced the curves of her body with a tender appreciation, taking in every line and contour as if committing them to memory. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration. She met Ben's gaze with a soft smile, her heart swelling with gratitude for his words of affirmation.

Ben pushed Y/N onto the bed with a force that left her gasping for breath, the mattress sinking beneath her weight as she landed with a soft thud. Y/N's heart raced with excitement as she felt the weight of Ben's body pressing down on her.

As Ben's hand moved between Y/N's thighs, a surge of anticipation coursed through her veins. He pressed his fingers against her skin, his touch both gentle and possessive as he explored the depths of her desire.

His fingers moved with a skilled precision, seeking out the most sensitive spots and igniting a firestorm of sensation within her. “Fucking hell doll, so wet, it really has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Y/N's breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his touch spreading through her like wildfire, every caress sending waves of pleasure coursing through her veins. She arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips as Ben's fingers worked their magic.

And as Ben brought her to the brink of ecstasy, Y/N surrendered completely to the pleasure of the moment. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate plea filled with longing and desire. "I need it, don’t stop..., Oh Ben.”

“Are you ready for me sweetheart? Are you going to take me like a good girl?”

She whined of need, nodding desperately wanting to feel him.

As Ben entered her, a sharp sting of pleasure and pain shot through Y/N's body, igniting a firestorm of sensation that left her gasping for breath. Her nails dug into his skin as she clung to him, her body arching towards his with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation.

The initial discomfort soon gave way to a wave of intense pleasure as Ben's movements grew more rhythmic. “Fuck you're so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he kneaded Y/N's curves. "It's like you were made for me."

His hands moved with a gentle yet possessive urgency, tracing the contours of her body with a fervour that left her trembling with pleasure.

Ben's movements became more forceful, his thrusts growing harder and more urgent as he sought to satisfy Y/N's primal desires. He grasped her tightly, his hands gripping her curves with a fierce intensity, as he pushed her towards the edge of ecstasy.

"Harder," Y/N gasped, her voice a desperate plea filled with longing and desire. "I need you to take me harder, Ben." As he complied with her pleads, he heard her hiss. “Are you ok, did I hurt you?” He slowed down. “Don’t stop... please, I love it.”

“Hmm, you like it really rough don’t you.” He bit her nipple earning another hiss that turned into a moan. “Good to know.”

Ben turned Y/N around, his movements fuelled by a raw desire that left them both gasping for breath. As she arched her back, offering herself to him completely, he couldn't resist the urge to give in to his most primal instincts.

With a swift motion, he brought his hand down on her behind with a sharp smack, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap. Y/N gasped in surprise, a rush of pleasure coursing through her veins at the unexpected sensation.

"Like that?" Ben growled; his voice thick with desire as he admired the red mark blossoming on her skin. "You want more?" He saw how she grabbed the sheets tight in her hands. Stretching her arms in front of her, her face against the bed.

His touch was both possessive and tender as he trailed his fingers over the sensitive flesh, his movements sending shivers of pleasure racing down her spine. Again, Ben's hand connected with Y/N's behind, the sharp smack echoing through the room as a surge of pleasure shot through her body.

"You like it, don't you... a little pain?” Without waiting for a response, he delivered another firm smack, each strike sending waves of pleasure crashing over Y/N like a tidal wave.

Ben could see the red spot on her behind forming. He leaned in, grabbing her breasts tight, pulling her back onto her hands, while his hips pounded hard against her. The sound of flesh hitting flesh mingled in the air with Y/N’s moans.

As the hours passed and their passion reached new heights, Ben and Y/N found themselves lost in a haze of desire, their bodies entwined in a symphony of ecstasy. Ben heard Jack getting inside the house.

Ben loved the idea of showing him how well Y/N could take him. "Do you...want more?" Y/N, lost in the throes of passion, was oblivious to the presence of her boyfriend in the house. With a pornographic moan of pleasure, she nodded eagerly.

With a silent nod, Ben's gaze darkened with desire as he moved to fulfil Y/N's request. There was a primal urgency in the air as he repositioned himself.

Her throat covered with his hand, his muscles tense with anticipation as he prepared to give her exactly what she craved. "How do you want me?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Hard," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with undeniable conviction. "I want you hard." With a silent growl of determination, Ben surrendered himself completely to the intensity of the moment. Ben knew there was no way Jack didn’t hear the bed.

As Y/N's body trembled with the waves of her climax, screaming his name when he didn’t stop. Ben felt a surge of primal desire course through him. Ben whispered hoarsely, "Again. I need you to give me one more. Come on... You can do it doll."

Ben leaned in close to Y/N while his eyes locked on the door when he noticed Jack standing there. His eyes lit with anger, but something in Ben’s gaze made him leave instead of bursting in anger.

Before he closed the door, he heard Ben "Does Jack take you like this?" His voice dripping with raw desire. "Does he make you scream his name the way you're screaming mine right now?" Leaving him standing outside the door, listening with the door in his hand.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his words, her body trembling with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension. "No," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "No one makes me feel like you do, Ben. Only you... Oh fuck!"

"Maybe I need to teach Jack a lesson," he said sucking on her neck. "Show him how to take care of you, fuck you the way you deserve." With a fierce possessiveness, Ben lifted Y/N's head, his fingers wrapping around her neck in a firm grip. As he continued to pound deep within her.

In that moment of ecstasy, as Y/N's body arched beneath his touch, Ben's voice was a low, husky growl in her ear. "Look," he murmured, his words a whisper against her skin. "Look who's watching."

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and through the haze of pleasure, she saw Jack standing there. But in that moment, she was too far gone, too consumed by the intensity of her pleasure to care.

With a primal cry of release, Y/N surrendered herself completely to the ecstasy of the moment, her body trembling with the force of her climax.

Ben felt his release building, a wave of ecstasy threatening to consume him completely. As he approached the brink of climax. "Where do you want me?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me."

"Inside," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath but filled with undeniable conviction. "I want you inside me." With a primal roar of satisfaction, Ben surrendered himself to the feeling, Y/N felt how he filled her up, while he clenched to her body.

As they both came down from their high, she looked back at the door. “Fuck.” She whispered while getting up to clean herself up in the attached bathroom. “You sound almost guilty.” Ben said as he stood behind her, his hand caressing her behind, fingertips moving over the red marks he left.

“He is the fucker who didn’t see the potential in you, doll. He got what he deserved.” - “I know... but I didn’t want him to see us.” Ben chuckles, his hand moved to her overstimulated core between her legs.

“Are you telling me you regret it?” He asked, Y/N turned to look at Ben. “What? No, are you kidding me... It felt amazing.” - “Good” he mumbled his lips against her neck, beard softly scratching her skin, while pulling her closer to him.

“Because I'm not done yet. “

Taglist: @yvonneeeee

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