#Charlie Hunnam fanfic

[author-morgan]

Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead. 

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him. 

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...  

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow. 

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you. 

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?” 

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck. 

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal. 

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence. 

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been. 

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly.  “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles, 

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.  

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief. 

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.  

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure. 

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.  

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch. 

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart. 

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine. 

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms. 

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[steakpieisnice]

Headlines & Heartstrings - Chapter 1

It's here! Super excited to share this with you guys! Also there is no Ray in this chapter (sorry) but he's coming next chapter. Any and all feedback is appreciated, this is my first work so I need all the help I can get <3

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and men being generally a bit creepy

Eleanor was startled to hear a knock at the door at this hour. She was usually the only one in the office who stayed for overtime, let alone overtime that carried on for this long.

“Come in.” She called out, without looking up from her desk.

“Hey Nora.” a voice timidly said.

Eleanor froze in her seat at the voice. “Get out.” She said coldly, still not looking up from her work.

“I just need to talk to you-“

“I said. Get. Out.”

“Nora please.”

She finally looked up at him, acknowledging the man that stood in front of her.

“Don’t call me that.” She snapped.

“I just need to ask you a favour Eleanor.”

“You don’t get to ask for favours.” She stared at him icily.

“Please, it’s just one thing.” He was near begging now.

“Like I said, you don’t get to ask for favours.” She turned away from him, starting to pack up. It was getting late anyway.

“It’s not for me. It’s for Coach.” She paused at the mention of the name of the man who basically raised her.

She turned, regarding Ernie with disdain. “Then why isn’t he here? Why are you the one knocking on my door at,” she checked her watch, “near midnight? Why isn’t Coach the one asking for my help if he needs it? Because I know damn well he hasn’t sent you here, so why are you fucking here Ernie?”

“He wouldn’t ask for your help, he’s too proud. He wants to deal with this on his own, but he can’t and he needs your help. Its bad.”

She stood still for a moment, contemplating it. “What did you do?” She sighed.

“What?” Ernie looked confused. “How do you know I did something?”

“Because you’re stupid Ernie.” Ernie began to protest, but she continued anyway. “And Coach is not stupid. And if you’re coming here asking for my help that means it is really bad. So you’re going to take me to that 24 hour ice cream shop down the road, buy me a vanilla fudge sundae, and you’re going to explain what you did and how you think I can possibly help get you out of the mess you’ve made.” She said, picking up her bag from under her desk and putting her coat on.

“Yes boss.” Ernie muttered, before following her out of the door. He was going to have to do a lot of grovelling.

----------

“So you’re telling me you filmed yourself breaking into one of Micheal Pearsons farms, stealing thousands of pounds worth of bush and then posted it online for millions of people to see?” Eleanor stared at Ernie, dumbfounded. “Look, I knew you were stupid, but this is actually impressive.”

Ernie looked offended for a second, but then seemed to remember that this whole thing was actually his fault, so didn’t say anything.

“And Coach is taking the fall for you?”

Ernie nodded earnestly.

“God that man is too good for this world.” She muttered under her breath, shaking her head. She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together, staring at Ernie so intently he thought her eyes would burn holes through his head. “How can I help?” She smiled, never breaking eye contact.

“Erm,” Ernie stalled, looking away and scratching his head nervously. “I was hoping, erm, you would figure that out?” He asked cautiously.

Her smile dropped. “Ernie, are you kidding me? You showed up to my office, begged for my help and now I’m here you really want me to do the rest of the work on my own? You are unbelievable.”

“Erm… Sorry?”

“You owe me. Big time.” ----------

It didn’t take much time to find Phuc, the guy who gave the Toddlers the location of the farm. You’d think these criminal types would be better at hiding where they lived, but clearly not. Phuc lived in a grimy flat above a takeaway in a backstreet in the posh part of Croydon. She leaned against the wall of an alleyway in Phuc’s street, taking one final drag of her cigarette before readjusting her outfit, pulling her top down to reveal more cleavage. She tried not to let the disgust on her face show as yet another man leered at her. Ernie better be prepared to go to hell and back to pay her back for this.

Eleanor spotted Phuc coming down the road and took a deep breath in, retousling her hair.

“Hey Hun.” She leaned towards him as he neared her. “You look like you’ve had a long day, looks like you could do with relieving some tension.” Eleanor reached towards him, running one finger down his chest.

 “How much?” He asked her. She panicked. She wasn’t expecting him to ask her that now.

“Fifty.” She purred. Shit. That was too low. He’s never going to believe she’s real with prices like that.

His eyes widened in excitement. Nevermind.

“My apartment is just down the road, let’s take this there.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards his door.

She pulled him back into the alley, whispering into his ear, “What’s wrong with right here right now?”

He seemed to have no complaints with that proposal as he pushed her against the wall, beginning to kiss down her neck. She held his head in place allowing a plaid clad arm to reach around and cover his nose and mouth with a rag. He struggled against the hand, but Eleanor held him in place, until he eventually stopped struggling and slumped forwards onto her.

She pushed him away, his body hitting the ground in front of her to reveal Primetime stood with a rag in hand.

“That was a sight I never wish to see again.” He said, still looking at her disturbed.

“How do you think I feel?” She muttered, righting her clothing, and trying to make herself look generally more presentable. “Right boys, let’s get him tied up and in the van.”

The rest of the Toddlers emerged from out of the shadows, before binding his arms and wrists with duct tape and throwing him into the van.

---------

“Fuck me.” A thick Irish accent groaned. “Do I need to bring you back to the gym to teach you some fucking self-respect?” Coach regarded Eleanor in disdain as she walked through the doors to his gym.

“I have self-respect I’ll have you know!” Eleanor said indignantly.

“Sure looks like it.” Coach said, giving her an incredibly pointed look as she yanked her skirt down to try and cover more than it was.

She turned and walked towards the office, rolling her eyes at him.

“I saw that, 20 press ups.” Coach said.

She threw her head back in a groan as she dropped to the floor in press up position.

“And ten more for the attitude.” Coach smirked. Ernie started to snicker before a glare from Eleanor shut him up.

She began her press-ups counting them under her breath.

“..and that’s 30. Right can we go now?” Eleanor panted as she got up from the ground and dusted her hands off. “Christ, I’m so unfit.”

“Go where?” asked Coach.

“The Princess Victoria of course. We have some grovelling to do.”

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

Hope you enjoyed <3

[sunnysidekit]

All the Time in the World

Summary: It's half past eight on a Sunday morning, and you're not the only one awake.

Pairing: Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller x f!Reader (no y/n)

Warnings: Sexual content. Minors, please skip this one!

Word count: 1.4 k

A/N: So, this is a (sad) attempt of mine to write some filth. Might write a part two someday. Tell me what you think!

My masterlist

You’re not sure what woke you up this morning, but whatever it was happened at half past eight on a Sunday, so your glass wasn’t exactly very full at the moment. You stretched out an arm beside you only to notice that Benny had already gone to the gym. Maybe he’d closed the door a little louder than usual and that was wat had done it.

After some fruitless tossing and turning you finally gave up trying to fall asleep again. It simply wasn’t going to happen. You pushed away the warm, nice, comfortable covers and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. When you looked up, you saw your terrible bed head in Benny’s full-length mirror. Instantly, your half empty glass cracked.

You looked thoroughly fucked. As in, someone could have fucked you till your legs gave out and this would be what you would look like afterwards. Not Benny. While you two routinely slept in the same bed, he’d never even think of touching you. The two of you were friends, nothing more. So, you blamed the short night you’d had as you shuffled off to freshen up a bit in Benny’s bathroom.

It never occurred to you that Will could have been the cause of your early morning. And why would it? At the moment, you were a sleep drunk mess of a woman who would have killed Benny if it meant you’d get to sleep in a little longer. Yet your mind did flit to memories of last night as you stepped into the shower.

The first thing you saw when you closed your eyes was Will almost dropping the crate of beer he was carrying to the kitchen. You’d climbed over the back of the couch to wrap him up in a hug since you hadn’t seen him in a while. You distinctly remember pressing your face into his hoodie right between his shoulder blades, and feeling his muscles move while he set the crate down on the table. He smelt like he’d stepped right out of a bonfire – which was probably because he’d just come from some guy’s housewarming barbecue. Benny had told you that when you arrived.

You let the hot water cascade down your body and sighed. While you’d only ever thought of Benny as a friend or perhaps even a brother, Will was another thing entirely. That rumble in his chest you felt when he greeted you last night, along with the stout curve of his hips against yours made you weak in the knees, even if you didn’t like to admit it. Even now, as you stood in the shower, you felt your face flush with warmth from just thinking about that moment.

You shook your head and opened your eyes. No need to stay in never-never land. You turned the knob and toweled off in silence, thinking only of what to have for breakfast. Maybe you’d be able to find a wayward slice of bread you could toast between all of Benny’s protein shakes. He probably had some eggs you could scramble, as well. Did Will still like scrambled eggs on toast? If he hadn’t gone with Benny, and if he was also already awake, the two of you could, perhaps, have breakfast together.

You plucked a pair of sweats and a hoodie from Benny’s closet, put them on and finally checked your phone. As expected, Benny had already texted you multiple times to tell you about some new gym equipment. Your mother asked if you were going to be coming over anytime soon. One of your friends had tagged you in a picture of a Certified Good Boy. Then you opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway – and heard it.

It was soft, yet still very much recognizable as a moan. For some reason you looked back into Benny’s bedroom. Then, when you heard it again, your gaze wandered uncertainly to the front door. You were prepared to look anywhere but the obvious source of the sound, which you very cleverly figured out was none other than Will’s bedroom. Did he have someone over?

You turned on your heel and started towards the living room when you realized that no, he did not have someone over. The next grunt that reached your ears was accompanied by your name. Your eyes shot towards his bedroom door, which you now noticed was slightly ajar. And then you lost control of your own body.

Drawn in by the sounds of his pleasure, you stepped forward towards their origin. Within moments, your hand had pushed the door open a bit further, giving you a full, unobstructed view of Will’s naked form slouched comfortably on his bed. He had headphones on and his eyes were closed, his expression consumed by a lust so raw as you’d never seen before. Yes, there he lay, the man you’d secretly desired for so long, pumping his cock to the tune of your name.

You were so transfixed by the sight you didn’t even notice your phone slipping out of your hand. The dull thud it made as it hit the floor didn’t reach your ears – the only sounds you heard were the ones Will made, along with a shitload of blood rushing from your head to your nether regions – but it did disturb Will. He opened his eyes, his expression changing quickly into one of shock and embarrassment, and instantly covered himself up with his comforter. You said nothing. Did nothing, either. You just watched Will pull off his headphones while an angry red flush spread across his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry! That wasn’t – I never would have...“ The words spilled from his lips like a waterfall, but the rush you felt drowned it all out.

“You often think of me when you, eh, do that to yourself?”

Will shook his head violently and put up one hand up to reassure you. “No. It’s just – I had – last night you-”

“I do,” you blurted out. Will’s eyes shot up to yours for the second time this morning. His flush didn’t fade, but his expression softened a bit.

“You do,” he said quietly. It seemed as if he didn’t quite know what to think of that. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yes, Will, I do. All the damn time.”

Will stood up now, tucking the comforter around his hips. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slowly walked up to where you stood still as a statue in the doorway. You glanced down to the bulge that protruded from the comforter, then let your gaze rake slowly back to his face. Not for the first time you came to the conclusion that Will was very, very well built.

He stopped right in front of you, tentatively reached out and dragged a knuckle across your throat all the way to your chin. You let him guide you closer to him until your lips almost touched. His one hand came up to cup your cheek while his other found purchase near the small of your back, and without another word he pulled you flush against him and into an exhilarating kiss.

Pure bliss was the only way to describe it. You moaned when he swiped his tongue across your lips and gladly let him in. Will’s hands traveled to the hem of your hoodie and pulled it up, dragging himself away from you for a moment.

“Not going to fuck you in Benny’s clothes,” he said with a grin you eagerly returned. The hoodie found a new home in the hallway, already forgotten. Will’s hands roamed free over your torso, eventually finding and staying near your bare breasts. He chuckled and pulled away from the kiss again. “No bra? I’m such a lucky guy.”

“Not just you,” you said. Your hands had been sliding down his sides, your fingers now fiddling with his comforter. He made no attempt to stop you from throwing it to the side. As you palmed his cock you added, “What were you thinking of doing to me just then, I wonder?”

“Do you want me to tell you,” he said hoarsely, “or should I just show you?”

You gently kicked the door closed and turned the lock behind your back. “Show me, please.”

“Oh, you don’t need to beg for it.” A wicked grin spread across Will’s cheeks as he took you by the hands and pulled you towards the bed. “Going to take my sweet time with you, though.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Because it’s nine o’clock on a Sunday, and we have all the time in the world.”

[ofcourseiwillmydarling]

❗I accidentally deleted the draft where I answered to the ask so I'm reposting it like this. Anyway, TYSM anon ! Means a lot to me ! I always feel like what I'm writing makes absolute no sense LOL. I hope you enjoy! 🫡🩵

a/n: Tomorrow I go back to class but we're up to a slow start, so I'll try to post as much as I can during these months ! If you guys have any other requests - about any soa character (both male and female) - dont be shy to send them, I have so much fun doing these & I looove hearing your thoughts ! ♡

! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

TW: mean !Jax & rough sex.

"Aw fuck - darlin' - what'd he do?" Your eyes are puffy and red - lashes clumping together from your tears - lips swollen from biting them. Jax makes a soft mouth sound as he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone, rubbing slow, soft circles meant to soothe you.

"Clay," you sob. "He said I was jus' a cheap lay to you," your voice cracks and more tears fall across your pathetic, broken expression. "Jesus Christ," He hisses between clenched teeth. He's seething. "Where is he?"

You shake your head, digging your fingers into the lapels of his vest. "He left," you murmur. "Jus' leave it alone." The words hitched in your throat - blathering something incoherent.

"Baby," he urges. He can hear your heart beginning to thump - pounding too hard and too fast against your chest. "You're with me. You're okay." He rubs his cheek firmly against your own - skin sheathed in cool sweat - his nose probing your hairline.

It ends like it always does. He threads his fingers through your hair - tugging the strands gently - before he crashes his mouth against yours. "I love you."

**

He wraps his fingers around the bends of your knees - forcing them apart. He is hard between your legs; tip leaking and heavy as it presses against your belly. Fisting his cock, he sinks into you in one brutal stroke. He's meaner today. He had hurt you with his words, even when he'd slam the thick of him inside your cunt till you'd bruise, but it never mattered. You were too in love for it to ever matter. This was for him. Not you.

You don't know the specifics about his 'jobs' - he couldn't tell you - but you do know the state that he comes home in. You let him use you as he needs.

"Jackie," You mewl - brow wrinkling in discomfort - as you reach for him. You're full of him. You wonder if you could feel him if you placed your hand on your belly. You cradle the hinge of his jaw and you're blathering against the slope of his cheekbone. You hiccup and sniff - you couldn't help it - he's stretching you apart and it aches something fierce. "Quit whinin'." he bits out as he hits balls deep - cock hitting something deep and sensitive inside of you.

You meet each thrust - even though your cunt is raw - lifting your hips to take his cock again and again. "Don't stop - fuck - m'close." He rolls his hips into you - grinding his pelvic bone against against the peak of your sex - knocking a sharp cry from your kiss-swollen lips. Rough and sharp. It's aggressive and a little ugly - still, you kiss him like you're dying.

He tightens his grip on your waist as you writhe against his hold. He ducks his head - rubbing his cheek firmly against yours - as he presses deeper. He can feel you tighten up - muscles clamping down his length - and fucks you through it. "That's it," he exhales against your teeth - you feel his cock pulse inside you - hips stuttering against your own. "Fuck - I love you."

Still — he leaves. But oh - it feels just like love.

[dallianceangel]

I’m Not Proud Of It

Writing this has given me another idea for a fic 💗

🫦 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🫦

You slip out of the clubhouse wearing the same clothes you wore last night, grinning as your mind plays back the wild night you had with Chibs. As you head toward the exit, Jax catches you as he works on fixing a motorcycle in Teller-Morrow. His gaze follows you, and he grows suspicious as he notices Chibs licking his lips, a subtle sign of the recent encounter he had with his girlfriend’s daughter.

Jax lowers his voice. “You and her...?”

Chibs sighs, nodding his head. “Aye, but you know, I’m not proud of it.”

Jax chuckles, not believing a single word. “Yeah, right. I bet you felt proud last night.”

Chibs smiles, but it soon fades when his girlfriend’s face flashes in his mind and the guilt resurfaces. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

Jax goes back to fixing what he is working on, but continues the conversation. “Was it just the once?”

Chibs’ silence gives Jax the answer he suspected, it’s happened more than once. “Fuck.”

Chibs sighs, the guilt eating away at him. A little while later, during lunchtime, your mom arrives outside Teller-Morrow, cheerful and unaware of the situation. She heads into the office and greets Chibs with a warm smile, holding a bag of delicious goodies.

“Hey, love,” she says, giving Chibs a kiss on the cheek. “I brought us some lunch.”

Chibs forces a smile. “Hey, doll. I’m so hungry.”

As she talks to Chibs over lunch, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Chibs discreetly checks it—it’s a text from you. He fights back a smile as he reads the message.

"Last night was hot. Round two later? 😏"

Chibs quickly types back, his heart racing: “You’re trouble, lass. We’ll need to be careful.”

[musings-of-a-rose]

Weighted Blanket

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 860+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Chatting about what a great weighted blanket this man would make and so I dedicate this to @laurfilijames. This was not beta read.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

Today had been the day from hell. You knew it would be, especially since you’d been out for several days being sick. Morning meetings ran long, everyone scrambling to prepare to open, and then the patients? Don’t even get me started. 

When I finally get into my car at the end of the day, I turn on the ac and rest my head against the headrest taking several deep breaths, just listening to the vents pumping cool air into my hot car. I just have to make it home. A shower is waiting for me and Will should be home today.

Will. 

My amazing boyfriend of a year and a half. Will had to go away for work for a few days and was finally coming home. I know a few days isn’t that long but it killed him to leave me when I was sick. And to be honest, I hated not having him there, sick or not. 

His truck is in the parking lot when I pull in and I smile knowing he’s upstairs. I hurry to our apartment and push my key in the lock, quickly shedding my shoes and tossing my bag down on the little side table before heading towards the kitchen, where sounds and a delicious, heavenly smell were emanating from. I lean against the door frame, just taking in the sight of him. Will, standing at the stove with his back to me, casually making my favorite food, his hair still wet from a shower, navy blue shirt stretched thin over his broad back and thick arms, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He clicks off the burner and divvy’s the food onto 2 plates before turning, his face lighting up when he sees me.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was work?” When I don’t answer right away, he let’s out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

I nod, pushing off the door frame. “Nothing I didn’t anticipate. Still sucked though.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving. But first I need to shower. I feel so gross.”

Will sets the plates down and takes a few large steps towards me. He moves for a hug and damn do I want one, but I’m gross. People actually spit up on me today. So I sigh, stepping back and Will puts his hands up, freezing in place. 

“Must have been really bad.”

“You don’t even want to know.”

He winks and blows a kiss at me, turning back to finish up dinner. The shower was glorious, the hot water and bubbles relaxing me somewhat, and washing away all of the gross from my skin and hair. I don’t linger, my stomach grumbling as I pull on some pajamas and head straight for the kitchen table, where Will had just set down drinks for us. Before I sit, he pulls me to him, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hands cradling my face. 

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I really missed you too, Will.” He starts to deepen the kiss, but is interrupted by the loudest grumble yet from my traitor of a stomach. He laughs, placing a hand on my tummy. 

“Let’s get some food in you.”

—----

Dinner was delicious, as usual when Will cooks. It’s not just that he follows the recipe to a t, but he has his own personal flair to it. Will’s cooking can make any sour mood turn sweet. Or maybe that’s just me. 

After our bellies are full, we sit on the couch and I curl my body against his, feeling his large arm wrap around me, the warmth from him seeping into my bones. He kisses the top of my head and rests his own there, both of us content to just be with the other. But my day was hard and before long, I feel my eyelids drooping. Will must have noticed because I swear I blinked and somehow ended up in bed, Will pulling the blankets up around me before crawling in next to me. He tries to pull me to him, but it’s not what I need. He crooks his finger under my chin, lifting my head to look at him through sleepy eyes. 

“Do you need Will blanket?” I nod, my eyes barely open. 

Will helps me lay down on my back, making sure my pillow is adjusted before he drapes half his body over mine, linking one of his muscular legs with mine as he tucks himself over me. His arm drapes over my body, rubbing small circles into my opposite arm. I turn my head and realize my nose is in the perfect spot to nuzzle into his hair, so I do it, inhaling the scent of him. The weight of him on me settles my nerves, the last bit of overstimulation and wired emotions leeching from my body the longer I feel his breathing, his body pressing into mine. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

It’s so tender and loving, full of care and I think about how much I love this man as he gently lulls me to sleep.

In the morning, he has different plans for me and I’m so glad I got the rest I needed.

—----

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[hes-the-muse]

Author's note: This is a reblog of my old fics to @hes-the-muse from when I didn't have my writing blogs figured out and when I first started writing. I might be reposting my own fics to @hes-the-muse from @thexhostess.

The Evening | PART 1

Synopsis:  Ray has never exerted this kind of influence over you before. He has been gentlemanly, restrained, respectful. You had watched Ray from a distance and wanted to get loser to him. When you were both introduced, he wasn’t one to sleep around and neither were you. You needed him to know you were serious about him, which meant playing it cool for some time. You’ve been having a great time with Raymond, but you were getting past the point of playing innocence personified.

Notes: Inspired by this iconic AW 2011 Louis Vuitton fashion show. Sexy concierges. Posh establishments. Questionable characters. 

The models are not meant to replace reader. These LV images are for the vibe.

RAYMOND SMITH X F READER

Rating : T (mention of sex)

Words: 397

Tags: @pomegranatearildreams (Tagging you for this as you have been waiting for the other Ray fic for a while. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged.)

Credits: GIF by uuuhshiny  Images via Vogue.com. Dividers by @firefly-graphics​ : X | X

You stroll into the office while Ray is at work, dressed and ready. Matching yourself to Ray’s palette of grey wool waistcoat and shirt, you were looking forward to the event you were attending together. 

Friend and acquaintance, the ‘Cockney Cleopatra’ had hyped you up for tonight and convinced you to go bold with your style. She, in her signature sky high ‘So Kate’ Louboutin’s and an LBD, while you went for sexy concierge. Glossy black cap with chin strap, oversized but tailored lapel jacket in grey wool hugging your waist but falling short over the top of your thighs. Arms covered and slithers of skin peeking, you added silky grey stockings with a glossy midnight black stiletto. Nothing else. The blazer wearing like a minidress made you feel cheeky as fuck and you didn’t care. It was meant to be a fun night to dress up and unwind, and at a closed invitation party, why not?

Cockney Cleopatra assured you that Ray would be inspired by your choices. She said she strengthens her marriage by always keeping Mickey on his toes. Always giving him something to strive for. A trophy wife, she keeps an eye on him by letting other men keep an eye on her, but never anything more. But trophies are awarded for many different talents, and she’s not a single trophy kind of gal. Dressing to impress is only part of her game. 

You don’t need to knock, your confident footsteps are enough to catch the ever perceptive Ray’s attention as he swiftly looks up to see you walk in in your full glory. He’s never seen you like this before. As he raises his chin, Ray’s eyes show a quiet bewilderment, just a glimpse to be subtly perceived. 

You’ve been seeing Ray for a bit of time, a few weeks  of dates, dinners out, evenings around Ray’s house but you’ve never stayed the night. He’s always taken you home or had a driver return you home safety. You and Ray have never had sex.

His eyes harden and chin lowers, intense eyes hold you in your place. As he’s looking down towards you and before Mickey can see you, his index finger shoots up to signify an unspoken ‘Wait’. He has you restrained with a stare and controls you with a single gesture. You look at him silently, and leave the room.

[charliehoennam]

feral love

a/n: @sizzlingcloudmentality had me in a chokehold with this idea.

prompt: Being all up in your face, pissed and horny, hands all over you? Not a single fuck given due to the fact that they are in a bar or something "look at your face while I fuck some sense into you." And he grips her neck from behind and makes her look into the mirror above the sink

pairing: will miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v, jealous will, mentions of breaking up (sorta)

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

It’s the first date you’ve been on since the rough break-up with Will. You had decided to take a break when the arguments started to become a constant in your daily life.

Technically, you didn’t even know it was a date. You thought you were just getting drinks with your friend. You hadn’t realized she had set you up on a blind date until you arrived at the bar and saw her boyfriend sitting at a table along with his friend.

You didn’t want to be rude, so you figured you’d stay and enjoy the drinks she had promised. Might as well now that you’re already here.

The friend isn’t too bad. Although you keep mistaking the name Louis for Luke, he’s rather cute and seems nice. He keeps asking you questions about your job, where you’re from, your hometown.

He’s trying to make enough small talk to get you comfortable, which you kindly appreciate.

Your answers are slightly short, but kind and enough to keep the small talk going, despite the fact that Louis keeps getting the sense that you don’t want to be there. He’s not wrong about that.

The bar is pretty packed with people excited to see a band play live as they ready their instruments. When the music starts, everyone instantly makes their way to crowd around the elevated stage.

Sitting by yourself at the table to wallow in your fourth – or is the fifth now? –  gin and tonic. Pushing the ice and slice of lime around with your straw, you scan the bar fidgeting uncomfortable in your seat.

Most of the guests are dancing and singing to the music, a few are scattered here and there sitting at the bar or tables to continue their talk. Some are hanging around the pool tables, taking turns. No one really catches your eyes – not that you were even looking for one who might – until your eyes land on a familiar face staring at you from the bar.

Your chest rises heavily but quickly as you stare at Will. His short blonde hair is slightly unkempt along with his beard. He’s wearing the black hoodie that used to swallow you when you’d put it on to get the take-out after a round of good fucking when he’d come home from deployment.

It still smells like your perfume which is why he hardly wears it now, but this night was an exception. He missed you and he wanted to feel like you were still somehow close.

When he saw you in the bar, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He had to go over to talk to you, but when he noticed you weren’t alone, the courage he had was shot to shit.

Will became quietly furious and told the guys that he was just gonna drink by the bar, that they should go ahead and shoot pool without him because he wanted to be alone.

They kept an eye on him from the distance while he kept his eye on you. With every smile and laugh Louis managed to pull out of you, Will took a shot of whisky along with his beer to keep him from flipping tables. He was ready to drag the man out of there by his collar.

But instead, he sat back and watched you. Watched how you played with your hair like you used to play with it around him, how you rubbed your lips together to even out your lipstick.

Louis’s glance at them didn’t go unnoticed by Will. He remembered how he used to watch your lips because he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

You can tell from the flaring nostrils that he is livid. It’s not out of fear; you know he would never do anything to hurt you.

You can’t stop feeling like a bug on a microscope, so you quickly avert your eyes and look at your drink. Taking a last long gulp of it, you push the glass aside and grab your purse.

You make for the bathroom seeking shelter from Will’s penetrating gaze, but before you can reach the door, you feel a hand grabbing your arm in the empty hallway that leads toward it.

“I just wanna talk.”

“It’s never just a talk between us, Will” you argue trying to avoid the large silhouette of him cast by the dim dive bar light.

“You’re out with someone else? You haven’t even moved your things out.”

“I’m not out with him. I came here with Natalie and she didn’t tell me we’d be meeting them.”

“Are you fucking him?”

You frown at how quick he is to dismiss your entire explanation. All he can think about is that?

“Are you serious? That’s what you wanna ask?”

“Are you fucking him or not?”

“Yes, I am. What’s it to you?”

Lying to Will is stupid. The man interrogates terrorists from for a living. He knows a lie – especially coming from you – when he hears one. But you just can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that you are still madly in love with him and that it’s why you haven’t moved your things out of his place yet. Inside, you still hope to go back home to him.

He doesn’t reply to you because he knows you’re lying, but it doesn’t stop from getting angry at the thought of you with someone else. You, kissing and touching and fucking someone that’s not him. Their hands holding you and stroking your hair and other parts of your that are meant just for him. That someone else gets to see you come undone, with your hair a perfect mess and lips swollen from his kisses.

That is meant for him. And him only. He can’t understand why you haven’t come home yet, but he does understand why you haven’t come for your things. You can try to hide it as best as you can, but he can see right through your façade.

“You’re fucking him huh?”

His towering frame steps closer, intimidatingly cornering you against the wall. His hand doesn’t leave your arm. The stare he casts down at you has goosebumps travelling over your skin. Like a bunny caught in a trap, you know you’re done for.

“Does he fuck you Iike I do?” he questions nudging his nose at the hair on the crown of your head

“Even better” you snap, trying to resist the trance he holds you under.

He scoffs with a false smile.

“Let’s fucking see about that,” he snarls pulling you into the bathroom.

You frown at the way he shoves you inside, holding your arm where the indents of his fingers are still printed into your skin as you question what his problem is.

“My problem is you.”

Locking the bathroom door, he quickly closes the space between you. His lips crash hungrily against yours. His hand balls the hair on the back of your head, keeping you close and unable to pull away from him. Not that you would either way.

You’ve missed this, you’ve missed him. You’ve missed his kiss. You’ve missed his touch. You’ve missed everything about him.

The way your tongues dance with one another makes you forget why you had even left the house in the first place. As he pushes you back towards the sink, your hands reach for his thick neck to keep yourself from falling over with his eagerness.

Although the music echoes into the bathroom, all you can hear is the heavy breathing and desperate moans coming from the pair of you as eager hands grope clumsily at each other.

The drinks you had only add to the intoxication of his kiss, whisky lingering on his lips. The room spins around you as his mouth reaches that one spot on your neck that he knows drives you insane.

Your head lulls back in a daze and your eyes close to savor the touch of his hand under the top you have on. He groans massaging your flesh and works his way down to your ass, shoving itself past your jeans to push them down as the loose fabric slides down easily.

His large hands grope your cheeks spreading them with a slight burn that only soaks your pussy even more. Will watches his hands knead and massage your flesh the reflection of the mirror like you’re his favorite personal playdough, fingers invading under the fabric of your panties.

With his throbbing dick grinding against you, he closes his eyes and lets himself melt back into the kiss. Keeping a firm grip on your ass, he moves his other hand to your front to shove it down your panties.

You moan his name, pulling away from his kiss desperate for air when he circles around and over your hardened clit.

“Jesus Fuck, Will,” you gasp gripping at his hoodie with your nails. “Fuck, that feels s-so good. Right there…”

With his other hand balled into the back of your hair, he forces your mouth back onto his to continue his selfish prodding with his tongue.

“he touch you like this?” he breathes, mouth opening against your cheek.

“N-no,” you mumble into him.

He smirks watching your face pinch at the pleasure he wants to remind you only he can offer. Gathering the slick from your folds, he hisses at the dampness.

“He get you wet like this too huh? Ain’t even fucked you yet and you’re fucking drenched, baby.”

You shake your head as if he didn’t already know the answer. He just likes hearing that no one makes you feel as good as he can.

Drunk on his touch, the scent of him fills your lungs and goes straight to your head coursing through your veins like a drug. You palm the hard outline of his cock through his jeans and quickly work to unbutton them, high on him as his fingers push into your dripping entrance.

You quickly fumble your hand into his pants and briefs desperate to feel his hard dick. The touch of your hand on his cock shatters the hard front he tries to hold onto.

“Shit, baby,” he whimpers biting into your shoulder when your thumb swipes over his leaking tip.

His fingers cease their movement for a quick moment as you tug on his cock, driving him insane with every stroke. Addicted to you, he turns you around to face the mirror on the wall.

As he quickly pushes his pants and briefs down, you mimic him by quickly pushing your panties down your thighs and spread your legs, angling your hips and arching your ass out to welcome him.

His mouth hungrily latches onto your neck as his cock glides roughly against you drench folds, gathering your slick to mingle with his pre-cum. Licking a glob of his spit onto the fingers that were inside you, he savors the sweet familiar taste he’s longed for as he coats the saliva over the tip of his cock.

“Look at me.” His command has your eyes shooting up to obey, taking in the sight your stained lipstick. “Feel me.”

Staring at your reflection, he watches you to make sure your eyes never leave his as he slowly pushes his cock into your cunt.

“Take it. Take it like a good girl.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the slow delicious burn you feel as his cock slowly spears itself in between your clenching walls.

“You’re my girl,” he whispers wrapping a hand on your neck. The wetness of his spit and your pussy feels cold against your skin.

You nod in agreement gazing hopeless into his dark eyes.

“Say it” he orders bottoming out, balls deep in you.

“I-I’m your girl” you nod, eyes and hips pleading for movement at the fullness of his cock.

“Only my girl?” he questions shoving a hand down to again toy with your clit.

“Only your girl.”

He smiles and finally starts moving his hips, fucking you hard and slow.

“Show me your tits, baby girl.”

Without hesitation, your hands excitedly push your bra and tops up bunching them together over your chest. Will kisses the back of your head praising your obedience, whispering how much he loves you as his hips pick up the pace.

The ungodly sounds of your damp and hot cheeks clapping against his relentless hips fill the bathroom along with your panting. Growing closer and closer to your orgasm, you grip the edge of the countertop and bite down on your bottom lip, taking him raw and rough as best as you can, trying to last longer but the fingers rubbing your clit force your orgasm to come soon than you hoped.

“Look, baby” he orders with a hand under your jaw as he pounds into you, fingertips squeezing into your warm cheeks.

Your teary eyes struggle to fix clearly on the mirror but you obey regardless. You’ll always obey him; a slave to his love.

His hips stutter in their movements as he finally cums into you, filling your walls with warmth.

“Look at you. This is where you belong. With me.” He breathes against your ear.

“Where do you belong hm?” he asks slowly pushing his load deeper and deeper in you with gentle thrusts.

“W-with you.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles and places a tender kiss to your cheek. “Go say goodbye to your friends and tell ‘em you’re coming home.”

[illusivelle]

shake the frost / 2

pairing: william 'ironhead' miller x female reader rating: t (for now) length: 3,044 words content: established relationship with the triple frontier boys, cursing, bruises/cuts, tending to wounds (my jam) summary: you don't expect to find will waiting for you so late at night, and especially not for these reasons. a/n: just a sucker for one person taking care of another while they're hurt. really just feeding into my own agenda here. and also a sucker for some idiots who think their pining is unrequited. read part one link to ao3 here!

Next time.

Two words that had been ringing in Will’s ears, bouncing around his head. Words he’d been repeating to himself because he wasn’t sure you meant it, wasn’t sure what spurred it. Wasn’t sure why it awakened something in him that had been dormant for so long. Two words that felt like a promise of more – more time, more you.

It wasn’t as if it was something novel considering the way he’d looked at you, and caught you looking at him, too. All those fleeting glances you’d both share when he thought the other guys weren’t looking, tiny smiles and faint touches in passing. But this was something different, wasn’t it? A step in a direction he wasn’t certain either of you would make a move toward, or maybe he’d been overthinking the entire thing and it was just something polite you’d offered.

Either way, Will Miller couldn’t seem to get his mind off – nor wrap it around – the idea of ‘next time.’

If only said next time wasn’t under these circumstances, knocking on your front door in the state he was in, hoping that you were actually home. 

You’d just pulled into your parking spot, locking your car door three times as you walked up to your apartment. The silhouette that’s slumped over your door is enough to have all the hairs rising at the back of your neck, one hand digging into your purse to clutch for something you could potentially use as a weapon. Shit, if only you’d listened to Frankie all those years ago, you might’ve been better prepared for moments like this. The only thing you could feel as you rummage in your bag is the dull handle of a switchblade, the one thing you did accept from Frankie if only to appease him and make him feel better about your safety.

And now you were kicking yourself in the fucking ass for not listening.

Tentative steps bring you closer to your door, your fingers grasping the knife tightly as wary eyes assess every inch you can see. In the darkness, you can only make out the fact that the person is a) much, much larger than you and b) hunched over like they might be sleeping. At your door, though? It doesn’t tell you much, save for the fact that you had to be very fucking careful about what might happen next. One more step brings you only a few feet away but the rustling of your clothes is enough to have the other’s head snapping up, and you whip out the knife from where it’d been hiding. “You should–”

“It’s me.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even in your haziest dreams, you could pick out that deep timbre and husky rasp that belonged to the one man that had no business occupying so much of your thoughts, especially as of late. “Will?” His name is a hushed whisper as you toss the switchblade back into your bag and quickly close the distance between you two. You’re crouching down as he’s pushing himself up, clumsily meeting halfway, your hands rising to settle on his shoulders. Not that he needed you to steady him, but you needed something to steady yourself, the sight of Will Miller sitting at your door something you’d never in a million years think would happen. “What’re you– is everything okay?” Immediately, your thoughts fly to all sorts of scenarios, a wary and assessing gaze raking over him as your palms work in a similar fashion, running up and down his arms like you might find a broken bone or a gaping wound. 

It’s only when your eyes finally land on his face that you notice, in the small sliver of moonlight peeking through a break in the sky, how dark red has matted along his hairline and paired nicely with the cut slicing his brow. Icy blue eyes dance as they search yours and Will remains quiet while you continue your inspection, finding more surface wounds on his lip and jaw, one that clenches when you linger too long. “Come in,” are the only two words you can think to say, reaching past him to shove your key in and unlock your door.

Maybe it’s your imagination, or maybe there really is only just a few inches between you and Will, his heat seeping through your clothes and prickling your skin. You swear you can feel his ragged and warm breath fanning out across your nape, a subtle roll of your neck like that might alleviate some of the tension thickening in the air when you push open the door to let both of you in. “Thank you,” his hoarse voice cuts in before he immediately tacks on an apology, “I’m sorry. I can go if you–”

“No.” You interrupt him before he can spiral. “Stay.”

His reaction is physical. His shoulders sag like that one simple word washed away all of his worries, the divot between his brows smoothing as he takes one step further into your place and then another. You’ve already dropped your bags and shrugged off your sweater, shuffling to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit and wet a towel with warm water. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Calling out to him, half expecting Will to remain planted where he stood because if there’s one thing about the stoic blonde man standing in your home, he always knew boundaries.

But when you close the medicine cabinet and turn on a heel, you nearly smack into a solid wall of carved muscle, one palm flying up to meet his firm chest to keep yourself upright. “Oh– Will–” blurting out his name while colour steals across your cheeks, “um, you can just have a seat there, then.” He takes orders so well, almost as well as he gives them. The only reason you know what that might sound like is because you’ve heard him bark them out to his brother Benny, even to Frankie and Santi. There’s no way it was anywhere near how he sounded when he’s on the field and you’re not delusional enough to think so, but it’s always been enough to strike a match in your gut. To spark that flame that burned for William Miller.

That same fire is ignited the second you lock your gaze with his pool of blues, tipping your head to the side with a cocked brow. Imploring him with your expression alone, hoping that he’d take the bait or feel comfortable enough to say something – anything – as you slowly and gently bring the edge of the warm towel up to wipe away the dried blood on his temple. “Benny got into somethin’ stupid after his fight tonight,” Will grumbled, those bright arctic irides breaking away from yours for a beat, “they didn’t like how he mouthed off too much in the ring. I told him one day it’d come to bite him in the ass, but you know Benny.” He huffs out a breath, one that tickles the sliver of skin peeking from your shirt, a lick of your lips to hide the way you noticed and zeroed in on the sensation so quickly. 

“Mmhm. In one ear–” “Out the other,” he finishes with a dry chuckle. 

Will barely flinches as you start to clean out his wounds, pressing damp alcohol-soaked pads to open cuts. It’s a testament to all that he’s endured out in the field, things far worse than you can ever imagine. Things far worse than what you’ve seen with your own two eyes at the hospital. You remember Frankie talking about a gunshot wound on their last ‘mission’ that Will simply patched up with a few pads of gauze, and even remembering the way Frankie told the story has your brows pinching together with distaste. “Is it bad?” Will murmurs, bringing your eyes down to his again.

“No, it’s not bad.” Were you really that easy to read, or maybe this close Will can just see right through you? “Are you feeling okay? Need a painkiller or something?”

“Probably just some water but I can wait.”

A hint of a smile teases the edges of your lips, wanting to lighten the sullen mood that’s fallen between you two. “I’ll make it quick, then.”

And you do, as much as you could. All of the open wounds were small enough that Will didn’t need any stitches; a few slips of the skin glue enough to close them, followed by pressing the thin adhesive strip bandages on top to make sure everything held. You lean in close when you get to the cut along his cheek, not wanting to mess up something that could’ve otherwise turned into a scar. Not that you thought Will would mind or didn’t have plenty of those, but you’d always been cautious about the face for any of your patients and he was no different. So focused on your work, steady fingers brushing back the small bandage, you don’t notice just how close your mouths are until you start to speak, the bristles of his beard tickling the edges of your pout. “Good as new,” you chime and without thinking, continue to say, “handsome as ever.”

If the ground could open you up and swallow you whole, you’d thank all your lucky stars and maybe even become religious. Had you really just said that? Heart hammering a bruise behind your ribs, you dare to steal a glance at Will’s face, hoping and praying and wishing you’d find something akin to indifference written over it. An indicator that he didn’t hear what you just said or maybe that he’d spare you and ignore it. Instead, you find a slick shine on his lower lip, a flirt of his tongue before he pulls it in while those thick, blonde lashes bat against his cheek. It’s silent for a few seconds, the weight of your words hanging over you like a blanket, and as soon as you open your mouth to say something, Will’s hand finds a home on your hip.

“It’s okay.” His tone stuns you, softer than you’ve ever heard it, swallowing thickly as you give him a shallow nod. “I didn’t mean to come here so late. Thank you for helping me. I was going to drive myself to the emergency, but Benny thought it’d be better to come see you directly. He all but followed me to make sure I actually didn’t go anywhere else.” All the while his thumb starts an absent sweeping motion, snagging on the hem of your shirt and sending goosebumps spreading fast on your skin.

“I’m glad you did, Will. You’d have been sitting in the waiting room for hours, you know.” Your fingers trail down until they brush over his knuckles, the same ones still holding you steady. “A heads up would’ve been nice, though, I guess.”

You’re not sure where this drop of courage is coming from. Maybe it’s the fact that Will took the lead here, the fact that his palm seems to press in more firmly where it lay. But as you search his eyes for a response, you can see the very second the moment splits into two. The moment where reality rears its ugly head and presents the staggering truth: too much. This is too much, too soon. There’s a faint quiver to Will’s lower lip, a muscle feathering in his jaw, and a few blinks is all it takes for those arctic blues to gloss over with something colder. Something you’ve seen in his eyes before, usually at the start of the night when he’s still had all his guards up and the others were around keeping a watchful and protective stance around you. Or when you’d overhear him and the guys talking about their pasts, especially their old friend. Or even the times you listened to Will’s speeches, recounting the eventful situation he found himself in at the grocery store when he all but lost his grip and sense.

“It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” His hands drop as low as his voice, the words leaking of shame.

You won’t pretend to ever know what happened between Will and his ex, or even Will on the last mission, but it doesn’t take a genius to recognize the wheels turning behind those wary eyes. His entire face twists like he’s trying to hide the visceral need to run, and the warning signs flood the forefront of your mind as Frankie’s booming voice echoes between your ears: it’s a bad idea, he’s not ready, he’ll hurt you, you’ll hurt each other.

“It’s okay, Will.” Barely above a whisper, you say the three words you hope will settle in his bones the same time you step back to put a small gap between your aching bodies. His aching undoubtedly from the fight he’d put up for Benny and yours for different reasons entirely, emphasized by the fact that every fibre of your being is reaching out to return to his orbit. 

His hands clasp together in front of him, another sharp breath slipping past those lips before he rises to his full height. It takes you too long to point out that his knuckles still have dried blood on them, but it’s clear he has no intent on staying any longer than necessary. Hiding the hurt from your face was easy enough but the way it stings the corner of your eyes is something that’s more challenging to tamp down. Twisting your body away from him and ducking your chin into your chest, you try to stride out of the bathroom, but his words have you faltering right at the threshold. “Do I owe you something for this?”

“What?” Brows bunching together into a frown, you peer at him over your shoulder. “No, Will. You don’t owe me anything.”

Is it relief you see as tension uncoils from his body? Like maybe the fact that he didn’t owe you anything meant he didn’t have to talk about this night, relive it, or see you again? Your mind is racing a mile a minute, your steps faster as you make it to your living room and leave him following behind. “Hey,” Will’s voice is strained and again, it has your resolve wavering, leaning against the back of the couch as you slowly turn to face him, “thank you. I’m not sure what else to say. I know seeing a man sitting at your door late at night probably wasn’t the most welcoming thing, and out of the blue, too. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You don’t mean to snap, the words falling out with a bite, but it’s too late to take them back. The only thing you can do is cast your eyes up at Will with a hint of regret flashing across your face. Because you did want him to stop saying sorry, to stop feeling bad for leaning on you when he needed help. Because you’re hit with the realization that refusing and turning him away at the door was never even an option. “It’s okay. Really, Will. I mean it. I’m happy to help you.” You admit softly, sucking in a breath to keep the momentum going, pivoting at the last second to turn the conversation into something less daunting as you murmur, “though I guess I thought the next time would’ve been under different circumstances.”

This seems to do the trick, lifting the veil of tension even for a brief moment, allowing you to catch a ghost of a smile when the lines on Will’s cheek deepen. “Mmhm, yeah. Would’ve been nicer if it were, I imagine.”

Fidgeting with your fingers yet unable to keep your attention away from him for too long, your eyes dance between your own hands and his. “Do you want me to take care of that, or…?” A little matted blood only needed a good wash, but you’d take the opportunity to tend to him if he allowed it.

Blue eyes dart down to meet where you’re looking, a quiet hum sounding in your apartment that feels like a ticking time bomb minutes before the inevitable crash. It comes far too quickly, and far too quietly, hitting you harder than you’re prepared for. “No, it’s okay. I should go.”

Whatever bubble you’d convinced yourself you were in pops, the moment once again splitting into pieces. This time, more than two, dropping around you helplessly and all you can do is agree with him as it slips like water between your fingers. “Okay.” After all, you'd have no right to ask him to stay. He’d already done that, and now Will’s decided it’s his time to leave. Palms slicking with sweat, you find yourself nervous. Find yourself wondering, not for the first time since you’ve known Will, why you were so nervous around him. It’s just Will, you remind yourself, something that’s becoming more of a mantra these days. “You drove here? You’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be alright.”

But would you be alright? It’s hard to tell because the longer Will lingers in front of you, the longer your mind strays. Is he second guessing himself? Is this all in your head? Is he going to shrug his jacket off and change his mind? Through the corner of your eye and in the dim light of your living room, you see the way his fingers twitch as it slowly rises. Inches before they can touch any part of you, it fades, your heart sinking into your stomach.

Only for it to crawl back up to lodge in your throat when the scent of Will threatens to overwhelm you as he steps in to press a kiss to the crown of your head, another muffled “next time, then,” before he’s skirting past you, opening your door, and leaving.

Leaving you with even more conflicted thoughts about Will Miller, ones that replay over and over again the entire night. Ones that blend into a flurry of emotions as you clean up and ready yourself for bed, ones that have you picking up your phone in the dark to type out a hurried text

'You should’ve stayed. Next time?'

[mermaidxatxheart]

These Moments

I’m posting on mobile so if it’s a little weird looking, that’s why.

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Word count: 3752

Warnings: swearing, smut(Minors DNI), Charlie Hunnam being a menace. Fwb, unprotected p in v.

A/N: this is the first thing I’ve written and completed in… waaaaay too long. I hope you like it. Yeet.

Everyone is always going on and on about Benny Miller and what a fighter that kid is. But your gaze is firmly set on his big brother, Will. The guy who trains Benny, who gets into the ring and is just as capable. You can’t help but watch him across the gym from your position behind your desk, pressing your thighs together harder and harder with every passing moment.

It’s not as though you’ve never seen a man before, and you’re some blushing virgin school girl. You’ve had sex, and lots of it. And you know Will Miller can fuck. Why, just last week, he fucked your brains out on the floor of the ring after the gym closed. Then he walked you to your car like a gentleman.

It’s not that Will doesn’t care about you, or vise versa. But he has commitment issues from his time in the army, and you just can’t trust people. So how can you be in a relationship with someone if you can’t trust them?

Will catches your eye and a small grin tugs at his soft lips. Those lips have you sweating. Remembering the way those lips pull every sound imaginable from your sweat-slicked body; the way those lips find magical spots that make your toes curl.

Your face starts to heat at the memory and his grin widens as you flip him off and drop your gaze. Jerk.

The front door opens, stealing your attention as two regulars come in. One is tall and muscular, definitely imposing, but you know he’s just a big teddy bear who’s crazy about his wife. That’s Jim. The other is a prankster and he always manages to scare you around the gym. That’s Teddy.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Teddy says, setting his membership card on the counter. His open grin is infectious and you can’t help but smile back.

“Howdy.” You reply, scanning his card.

“It’s Friday.” He continues as you scan Jim’s card.

“All day long.” You reply sarcastically. Jim collects his card and with a wink, he heads for the locker room. Teddy doesn’t walk right off. He has been asking you out every Friday for the last six months. It doesn’t matter that you never say yes, or that you act completely uninterested-he asks without fail.

And, to be fair to him, he’s not rude or obnoxious about it. It feels more like a teasing inside joke now. He still respects your boundaries, and treats you like a lady.

“You busy tonight?” He asks, leaning over the counter to look at you closer.

“Probably not.” You reply dryly.

“Do you want to be?”

“Probably not.” You answer in the same tone. He tips his head back and laughs. “Teddy, aren’t you tired of flirting with me? It doesn’t get you anywhere.”

“Tired of flirting with such a beautiful woman?” He places a gentle finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Never.”

Your eyes inadvertently darts over his shoulder, landing squarely on Will, glaring at Teddy. “You’re such a hopeless flirt.” You shoo his hand away.

“Only for you, doll.” He grins. He backs away, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’ll pick you up tonight.” He calls loud enough for the whole gym to hear

You roll your eyes, flipping him off. “You’re a filthy bastard.” You reply, leaning back in your chair. You’re not worried about Teddy, he’s harmless. He’s come to your defense on more than one occasion both inside and outside of the gym. His flirting is good natured, never pushy or demanding.

But with the way Will is glaring at him, one would think Teddy just kicked his dog or something. You could go out with Teddy-you and Will aren’t serious, you have no doubt that he’s seeing other women and that doesn’t bother you. He’s an amazing guy and he should find someone who makes him happy. You’re just aware that it’s not you. But, Jesus Christ, you’ll have some fun with him until then.

Will

Will, for the majority of his life, has been pretty even-keeled. Benny, his impulsive kid brother, has him saved as ‘Steady Eddie’ in his phone. That’s what his parents always called him and Benny, that little shit, is carrying on that tradition.

And aside from the few heated PTSD moments he’s not exactly proud of, he still keeps a cool head; he’s pretty logical and there isn’t a lot he can’t handle.

That being said, seeing that jackass with a god damn man-bun touch you? Seeing him tilt your chin up to meet his gaze the way Will has done so many times? It makes his blood boil. Hearing him say he’ll pick you up for a date? He might have punched his brother harder than he should have. It’s a good thing Benny has a hard fucking head.

But what’s really got him fucked? The way you drop your gaze to the desk, laughing. He didn’t even know you liked guys like that: man-bun pretty boys who work out for the aesthetic of it.

While he’s busy paying attention to you, Benny gets his revenge and punches Will back squarely on the jaw. It rocks him back against the ropes and he can’t even be pissed-it’s a good hit.

Determined to not lose focus again, he turns his back on you, planning on discussing this with you later. Do you want to stop sleeping together? Are you finally ready to find someone?

You’ve always been crystal clear about not wanting a partner. You claim you value your independence too much, but Will likes to think he knows you a little better than that. Someone hurt you. He doesn’t know who-your family and past is a complete mystery to him. And if you two are just fucking, Will supposes he doesn’t need to know more.

Benny finally calls it quits. Will has gotten out of the ring after the punch so he could comment and critique his younger brother. Ben is exhausted, he can tell that much just by looking at him. He should have called it earlier, but he was lost in his head.

“Go home, kid. Get some rest.” Will says, holding open the ropes for him to crawl out.

“Want me to give Teddy a solid thump on my way out for you?” Ben teases.

Will, caught off guard, can barely respond. “What are you talking about?”

“Him taking your girl out.”

Will squints at him. “Do you have a concussion? Do I need to drive you home?” Will reaches for his head, but Benny swats him away with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s not the point. I’m not blind, y’know. But fine. Hide things from me.” Benny heads for the locker room and WIll glances over at reception, halfway through the first step toward you. But you’re not there anymore, someone else is manning the desk. “She’s up in her office, you dingus.”

Will follows the gesture and sees the light on up there. Even better. He heads up there, hoping to at least catch you for a chat.

He pauses in the doorway, watching you read over something on your tablet. You’re entirely focused, a little pinch between your eyebrows that he loves has to smooth out occasionally. He must make a sound or maybe you can just feel him staring at you, because you look up.

***

You can feel the bluest pair of eyes on you, boring through your skull. Finally, unable to stand it, you look up from the article in front of you, entirely unsurprised to see Will taking up the whole doorway.

“Headed out for the day?” You ask, closing your tablet and setting it down.

“Benny is.” He says evenly, and you nod.

“He looks good. You’ll have him ready in no time.”

“Yup.” He agrees simply and you frown.

“That’s all I get? What’s with you? Normally, you’re happy to talk strategy until my ears fall off. And all I get today is ‘yup’?” You make a face.

He doesn’t answer, at least, not right away. He steps into your office, looking at all the pictures on the wall. There are a couple of you and him together, Benny’s fights, fooling around with your new camera after fooling around that one time. He’s seen them all a million times, so why is he studying them now.

Abruptly, he turns to you. “Are you bored of me?” He asks and you can’t smother the absurd chuckle that bubbles out of you. When he doesn’t laugh in return, you frown.

“Oh-you’re serious.” You realize. “Miller, what in the world makes you think I’m bored of you?” You ask with a huff.

“I dunno. I was standing right there and you were flirting with… what’s his name? Man-Bun.” He waves his hand.

Your forehead wrinkles as you try to comprehend. “You mean Teddy?” You ask.

“Sure.” He shrugs and you grin. Will isn’t the type of guy to wallow in self pity. But here he is, in your office, looking for all the world like a lost little bunny.

You push yourself to your feet, taking the two steps to be directly in front of him. “You jealous, Miller?” You grin wider.

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He snaps, but he won’t’ meet your eyes.

You place your whole hand dead center of his chest, your grin spreading so much your cheeks hurt. “Let me tell you about Man-Bun-Teddy.” You offer, guiding him backward to your couch slowly.

“Don’t really care.” He pretends. It’s cute.

“Every Friday, Teddy comes in here and asks me out.” You say, your voice soft, a whisper in the silence of your office. His knees buckle and then give out against the low edge of your couch.

The softest groan escapes him as he lands. “I don’t-“

“And every Friday, I tell him no.” You straddle his muscular thighs, leaving plenty of space between your bodies.

“And every Friday, he says ‘I’ll pick you up tonight.’” You lean in close, fingernails scraping at the nape of his neck. “I don’t fuck him.” You whisper. “Not the way I fuck you.” Your hand slips down between your bodies and into the band of his sweatpants. He’s got you all dizzy, light headed, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Never?” He manages to rasp out. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock. Christ, that beautiful cock.

“Never. He’s never tasted me,” you nip at his neck gently. “He’s never been inside me,” you continue, kissing down his neck. “He’s never felt me cumming around his cock,” you tease, gripping and stroking his shaft lazily; a soft little twist on the return, just the way he craves it. His lip catches between his teeth as you nip at his collarbone.

Your breath comes out as a desperate rush as you feel him stiffen in your hand. “Love the way you feel under me, Miller.” You moan quietly.

“Darlin’,” He groans, gripping your hips, trying to regain control of himself. But that isn’t what you want. You want him to lose some of that carefully constructed control. You want him to be a little rough and leave bruises on you in the shape of his fingerprints on your thighs. You crave the way he clings to you in these secret, stolen moments.

He twists his head, capturing your lips against his, cupping your face and kissing you harshly. His lips, his tongue, god, that fucking mouth making you weak. It steals the air from your lungs and you feel weightless and heavy all at the same time. He rasps out your name roughly against your lips before delving back into a frenzied kiss.

His hands pull at the hem of your shirt, tugging it off, the only second he’s willing to break away from your mouth. His fingers trace up your spine, sending goosebumps across your exposed, heated flesh. With experienced deft fingers, he unclasps your bra, breaking away to watch as he slides the straps down your bare shoulders. One shoulder at a time followed by soft kisses to your skin following the path.

His touches are different from his kisses today. Kissing him is frenzied and urgent, but his touches are slow, savoring. He’s enjoying watching the effect he’s having on you right now.

He removes your hand from his pants and you miss the feel of him, heavy and hard in your palm. Tossing your bra to the side, his fingers blaze trails down your arms to your wrists. His eyes are roaming over your skin, an appreciative smile on his handsome face.

He guides your hands up to the wall behind his head. “Hands on the wall, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, raspy; deeper than usual. “That’s a good girl. Keep them there for me.” He praises and you fucking melt. He guides your chest closer to his face and you arch your back, rolling your hips teasing yourself, but also desperate for any kind of friction on your cunt.

His tongue darts out to flick against your nipple, his big hands hot on your bare back. He wraps his lips around it, teasing it with the tip of his tongue as you continue to roll your hips but you’re not getting anything you need.

He slides a hand up into your hair, gripping the elastic holder and tugs on it, pulling it from your hair so your locks fall forward. You look down at him, his blue eyes twinkling as he bites down lightly on your nipple. Keeping eye contact, he bites a little harder, stopping only when you gasp, lips parting, and he soothes it with the flat of his tongue. He gathers your hair into one fist and pulls it back so you’re arched even more against his mouth. He slips two fingers around the crotch of your little shorts and panties, pulling it up through your folds and against your clit.

“Come on, darlin’. Use me to get yourself off.” He encourages, letting your nipple go for just a second to encourage you. He presses his thumb against where your clit will be and you start grinding your hips faster, chasing that perfect friction. His mouth returns to your nipple, sucking and nibbling it, adding to your mounting pleasure. You can’t see him, your head forced backward to stare at the ceiling as he torments your body.

“Come on, pretty girl. Show me how much you wanna cum. Show me how wet this pretty cunt can get.” He urges, pulling a little harder on your shorts. You whine, riding faster and faster, you’re so close, Christ, having him under you is so heady. He leaves hickies across your chest, teasing between your nipples, letting you grind yourself against his hand. He bites your nipple again, catching your clit just right and your body locks up, cumming, clenching around nothing, eyes squeezing shut as you ride out your release. Your hips slow and he lets go of your hair, sliding them back to your waist.

It isn’t until you look back down at him, panting slightly, that he speaks again. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises. You surge forward, kissing him eagerly, pulling at his shirt. He wraps his arms around you, leaning forward for you to pull it free of the couch. Peppering kisses along your skin until he can sit back and you pull it off completely.

His body is a work of art, muscles moving and sliding under tan skin. You shift backward, dragging your fingertips down his abs as you slide off his lap. You kneel between his thighs, pulling on his sweat pants until he relents and lifts his hips. You pull them down to reveal his throbbing, beautiful cock, hard and waiting for you to take it into your mouth.

Will’s beautiful blue eyes are blown wide, watching as you lift his cock, kissing the tip before stroking your tongue slowly along the underside and back up. He moans softly at your teasing. You wrap your lips around the head, sealing it inside and a quiet hiss escapes him and then you start to slide it deeper into your mouth, creating an impossible suction along the sensitive skin.

“Hands up here.” He instructs. “Want to be the one giving you pleasure today.” He orders, trapping your hands flat on his strong thighs. He watches as you bob your head deeper and deeper on his shaft. Your tongue dances along it, stroking and massaging as you suck his cock. Another moan escapes him and you double your efforts. His hips lift to meet you and you roll your hips, wishing you had something between your thighs to grind on.

“So good, darlin’. So good.” He bucks his hips up repeatedly and the quick succession makes you gag but you love it.

You pull off, drool stringing from your mouth to his beautiful, glistening cock. He tugs on your wrists, urging you to your feet.

“Need you wrapped around me.” He mumbles. You start to slide off your shorts but he shakes his head. “Leave them on. Like the way they look.” He adjusts his lap and helps you straddle him. He holds his cock up right and guides you down onto it.

God, the stretch. The burn. You crave it every time. The way he fills you to the brim. You tip your head back, swiveling your hips to sink lower. He utters a low curse, gripping your thighs as you work him inside you. You hold onto his shoulders as you start to lift yourself off him and then drop back down.

You moan deeply, needing more. You pick up the pace and before you can even think it, you’re riding him fast and deep. Each downstroke sees a roll of your hips, tugging on his cock, gripping him inside you.

“H-hands on the wall.” He instructs and you lean forward, bracing against the wall, and that changes the angle of him inside you. You’re close to seeing stars and you ride him faster and faster. “Christ.” He groans, lifting your hips when he feels you slowing down. He lifts you slightly and then fucks up into you faster than you could move. You whine and gasp, trying to keep your noises down because of the open gym below you. “J-just like that.” He moans, licking a stripe up between your breasts.

It pushes you over the edge and you drop down, muscles tensing as you cum hard. He supports your body, fucking you through it.

When you can move again, he lifts you off him. “Bend over your desk.” He orders and there’s something about his tone that makes your pussy drool. It’s authoritative, possessive.

On shaky legs, you walk over behind your desk and bend over it, gripping the edge and spreading your legs. He kneels behind you, burying his face in your cunt hungrily. Your clit is his main focus, sucking, licking, flicking, biting until you’re trembling and cumming on his face, clinging to your desk for support as he eats you to a wild orgasm.

“Bet Man-Bun never did that.” He mutters, standing back up and lining his cock up with your entrance.

“Who?” You mumble, breathing hard.

He grabs your hips as an anchor spot and thrusts deep. You cry out, clenching around him desperately. He starts a deep, harsh pace, fucking you harder and faster. His fingers dig into your hips as he palms your ass, his breathing just as ragged. “That’s it. Good girl. Let the whole fucking gym know I’m fucking this sweet cunt in your office.” He grunts, leaning down over you and pressing you into the surface off your desk. He’s impossibly deep inside you, driving you crazy as he rocks deeper and deeper. Each thrust sends his balls slapping against your clit as he steadily fucks you.

Tears slip out of your eyes as he makes you delirious with sheer pleasure. You can’t breathe, but if it means he stays just like this; on top of you, fucking you stupid, then you don’t need to breathe. He presses his mouth against your cheek, a hand around your throat, holding your back against his big broad chest. He’s whispering something, it takes you a long second to process it.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, you feel amazing. Make me wanna fuck you every time I see you. Gotta have my cock in this sweet cunt every day.” He slips a hand between your body and the desk, finding your clit and strumming it furiously under your shorts. Your legs give out as you cum again, squeezing his cock as you try and fail to support your body. It’s all being held up by the desk now.

“That’s it. Cum on my cock. Gonna make me fill you up today.” He growls and Jesus Christ, you cling to the desk, cumming again, legs shaking, crying all out now. “One more, be a good girl for me. One more and then I’ll be nice to you.” He pants. You whimper under him, only able to take what he’s giving you. He nudges your ankles further, strumming your clit as he fucks you into the desk. You reach back, clinging to his hand and he squeezes it tightly, thrusting completely inside you, cumming up against your tunnel’s end, fingering your clit to one final orgasm. He presses his lips to your temple as he rocks back inside once, twice, thrice, four more times as you start to come down, lying boneless on your desk. He stays there until he softens and slips out of you.

He takes a long second to compose himself, looking at you on your desk, unwilling to move even a little bit. He lifts you gently and carries you over to your couch.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Absolutely not.” You look over at him, naked in all his glory in the middle of your office.

“Wanna order Chinese?” He asks, settling himself between your thighs.

“Yeah. I’m starving.”

“Can’t imagine why.” He grins, ordering food first before lying himself between your thighs and tracing your clit with his nose.

“What are you doing?” You ask warily.

“Eating this pussy until our food gets here. And then probably again afterward.” He says, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “I haven’t made you cum nearly enough.”

Shit.

Part Two

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

[daisydamed]

Drink Up

a tiny Jax Teller imagine that I couldn't get out of my head.

(forgive the bad writing honestly idk what's happened to me)

word count - 625

---

She and Jax had sought each other out at the past few clubhouse parties. Music playing and smoke hanging in the air, one would spot the other and force their paths to cross; spending the remainder of the night exchanging stolen touches and lingering gazes over whatever drinks they held. This night was no different, with her eyes scanning quickly over the room of bodies, casually searching him out, even if she didn’t mean to. 

Several drinks in and she was caught in conversation with Juice, nodding along and laughing when she should, adding her own bits and pieces despite her thinly veiled distraction. He knew, of course. Saw how the pair looked at each other, stole each other away once they were reacquainted. His eyes had flickered behind her for only a second, not giving her the chance to turn and look before something cold was pressed briefly to the warm skin of her neck. She jerked away with a small yelp, wiping at the condensation left behind from the beer bottle. 

“Jackson Teller-” She whirled on him, hearing the chuckle from his lips before she’d barely registered the chill. 

He grinned, head cocked to meet her eyes. “Say my name like that again and I'll have to kick your ass.” He told her, a teasing lilt to his tone. She rolled her eyes, her voice dry.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll bear that in mind.” She replied easily, hands raised in almost mischievous surrender. Neither even noticed that Juice had vanished, slipping away into the crowd once he realised he’d lost her focus. 

“Now there’s your manners.” He quipped, stepping a little closer to let someone pass behind him. 

“I said a very nice thank you the other week.” She reminded him, trying unsuccessfully to bite back her smile. 

“I remember,” Jax thought back, recalling the ride home he’d given her the morning after the last gathering when she’d crashed on a couch instead of paying for a cab ride home. “Though I gotta admit I’m wanting to hear more nice words from you now.” 

“I guess you’ll have to earn them.” She shot back casually, watching as he finished off his beer, leaning away momentarily to place the empty bottle on the bar. He smirked at her words, shaking his head minutely. 

“Oh, is that how it is?” He asked, retaking his place with mere inches between them. The loud voices of the many bodies coupled with the music playing over the speaker made it difficult to hear. His excuse for their proximity. “And how would I go about doing that, exactly?” 

She gave a shrug, taking a sip of the drink in her hand. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

His eyes followed the motion, watching as the glass met her lips. He reached out as it lowered, taking it from her fingers deftly. “Take your time,” He told her, raising the glass to take a sip of his own. “We’ve got all night for you to decide.” 

“Thievery might not be the best way to start.” She mused, reaching for the glass. He twisted where he stood, holding it just out of reach, enjoyment in his eyes. 

The glass hung between his fingers, his eyes fixed on hers. “I never said I played fair.” He told her casually. She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting between the glass and his face. “You want it back?”

She held his gaze. “You can keep hold of it,” she told him. “But I’d like some.” 

“All you had to do was ask.” Jax replied, voice smooth. He stepped in, his hand coming to rest on her lower back, holding her steady. She lifted her chin, lips parting as he raised the glass and tilted it gently. 

[hes-the-muse]

Author's note: This is a reblog of my old fics to @hes-the-muse from when I didn't have my writing blogs figured out and when I first started writing. I might be reposting my own fics to @hes-the-muse from @thexhostess.

Ray’s Garden | Part 1 

Scent Series | Penhaligon’s Scent Library | Luna ☾ Endymion

‘The Moon Goddess’ bath is as soothing as it is seductive, much like her eau de toilette. It shines with orange, jasmine, soft rose and fir balsam. Relax. Sink in. Surrender has never felt so sweet.’ - Luna

‘Classical elegance befitting of Zeus’s most handsome son. A sparkle of bergamot dances off suede, coffee and geranium. An eau de cologne for the ages. Who can resist a man such as this?’ - Endymion

Notes: In a scent series I wear a perfume and think about the imagery it creates for me. I then use this inspiration and build up on the imagery I get. Here I am using the two perfumes described above. I also found the image of this beautiful expensive lingerie. I wanted the accompanying image to do justice to the type of lingerie a woman worthy of Ray would wear. Sexy and completely upmarket classy. The peekaboo feel of the plants and the rattan looks so dreamy and I can see her sitting on Ray’s patio. The cool lavender blue hues of the satin and the petals really fit with Luna the perfume. It has the scent of lavender coloured haze about it, something you might think the colour lavender/lilac smells like. I also love to have a soundtrack. I’ve used this one that plays with the colour motifs I’m using in the story. The lyrics included are in italics.

Raymond Smith x F Reader

Rating: ☑☐☐ = fluff

Song: Lana Del Rey - Cinnamon Girl

Words: 712

Tags: @rayslittlekitten and @hotdamnhunnam (I finally wrote something, I hope you don’t mind being tagged.)

Flowers sit on a malachite console table in Ray’s kitchen. Dark blooms of sumptuous plum, cool and melancholy lilac. Soft yellows contrast with the rich royal blue painted walls. An arrangement full and harmonious beginning to falter, stems bending under their own weighted beauty. Pollen falls onto the glossy green surface. 

‘Violet, blue, green, red to keep me at arm’s length don’t work ‘

Harmonious earth, the scent of the cool night breeze slips past your skin. You’ve been here for hours. The air is mixed with balsam fir and your ethereal veil of hazy violet and cold florals in Ray’s garden. You’re kneeling by the flower beds just out of view of the tented patio gathering flowers for the bouquet. You look through the shrubs and see the lamps just switched on in the evening light. Ray is at work late tonight. He told you you can stay as late as you like. And you decided to stay late.  

‘There’s things I wanna say to you, but I’ll just let you live ‘

Keep reading

[ofcourseiwillmydarling]

a/n: reposting bc it felt incomplete :P Also I do not understand if my blog has been restricted or something :( I have a couple of asks in my inbox but I cant access them for some reason & I dont know how to fix it 😢

! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

TW: ! brief mention of choking.

He pins you down, covering your body with his as he fucks you into the mattress. He noses at your cheek, his beard rasps across your cheek just as he surges forward, burying himself to the very bottom of you.

You've gone boneless. Your cheek scraping up the white cotton sheets as he rocks his hips in a lazy rhythm, barely easing out your sopping cunt before shoving forward again. He gets off it - overwhelming you until you cant think straight. "Too deep Jackie..! s'too much!" He's heavy. He drives further - and it would hurt if you weren't used to it - stretching your cunt obscenely. Your pussy is so desperately full it's overwhelming. Consuming.

He takes a pause to pull his weight off of you, wrapping an arm around your midriff to pull you into the air until your back is flush against his chest.

You can feel the scratch of the hair at his groin against the curve of your ass as he rolls his pelvis upwards, ass jamming back against his hips as he hits balls - deep. "That's my girl," he coos - rubbing his bearded jaw against the soft skin of your cheek. “Still with me?” He‘s arrogant. Condescending. He knows that he has you.

His palm circles your neck - he thrusts faster, snapping into you with the full brunt of his weight - constricting your air flow. Its risky. Dangerous. He could break you if he wanted to. Your eyes are glossy. You look drunk. Fucked out. “You cock - drunk or somethin’?” You have no words left - nothing else to give him but pathetic, needy whimpering. He enjoys every part of it. Every spear of his cock makes an indecent sound. Its filthy. Indecent. He's pushing you right to your limit. "C'mon," he croons. "Let go for me, darlin'."

[anitalenia]

━━ 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒔 pt. 4

━━ 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the frontier boys as random tropes. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one | part two | part three

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ Pope, Will, Benny, Frank x fem!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ ceo!Pope x assistant!Reader, lumberjack!Will x bimbo!Reader, bartender!Benny x fem!Reader, step dad!Frank x step daughter!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sexual content, implied smut, graphic depictions of sexual acts, fantasized sexual content, blowjobs, depictions of fingering, pussy eating, inappropriate family dynamics you definitely shouldn’t partake in, inappropriate work relationships that you definitely shouldn’t do in real life (unless you want to purrrr💅🏻), a little long just cause I haven’t made one in a while, slight dark content in Franks section

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sorry for the wait with this series, people really loved it actually, more than I thought they would. The begging for another part finally got to me, so here you go!!!! Hope you enjoy while I work on the next one 😭

━━ SANTIAGO ‘POPE’ GARCIA ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

CEO! SANTIAGO ⊹₊˚

✧･���: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 desk in those cute little skirts and too tight dresses, always so busy and always so beautiful. He liked to stare out at you from his private office with a semi hard cock in his black slacks; a perfect view of your desk and the best view of you.

He could never get any work done of course, not properly anyway, too busy thinking about you and all the things you’d do for him if he asked. You always did what he asked, so eager to work and so eager to please. You, you with those black stiletto heels and those pink pouty lips, you, you with your sweet voice and your round hips — begging to be fucked good.

Nngh, just you.

He liked to call you into his office for no real reason other than his own selfish desires; he liked to see your hips sway when you walked and stare at your soft tits when you’d lean over — it’s what really got him through the tough days.

He loved to hear your soft giggles and see your cheeks go pink when he’d say something scandalously sly, something a ceo definitely shouldn’t say to their assistant, something a boss definitely shouldn’t say to their employee.

He’d take you on business meetings and lavish business trips, invite you to expensive business dinners and elite business parties, it was always business, business, business. He wanted more than that, wanted to take you out for real and show you how much of a gentleman he could be if you’d give him the chance.

Mainly, he wanted to show you how good he could fuck you, much better than any man could, show you how well he knew your body in ways you even didn’t, in ways no man did.

He’d have to clench his fists and hold himself back from fucking you on his very desk with his blinds open for all the horny temps to see — the ones who could never seem to leave you and your beauty alone, the ones who gawked at you in the break room, the ones whose grimy hands lingered on your arm for just a little too long…

That always pissed him off, having to see those puny fanboys of yours charade around your desk like prissy princesses and fight for your attention — it was pathetic and obnoxious. He couldn’t fire them like he wanted to though (unfortunately), too many lawsuits already being filed against him that he was too rich to really care about.

He had lawyers for that shit anyway.

Santiago, or Santi as he’s made you call him now, liked to watch you talk. He loved hearing your voice, seeing the way your lips moved and sparkled with gloss as you rambled on about some company he supposedly owned, pacing his office as he sat in his chair with his dick hard under his desk.

He’d clench his jaw and picture how those lips would look wrapped around his thick cock, your lipstick leaving stains all over him that he could admire later — maybe he’d even have you under his desk during meetings, sitting right between his legs with your lipstick smeared over your cheeks, and a sweet mix of your saliva and his cum dripping down his balls —

“Are you even listening to me?” You’d always scold him with your arms crossed over your chest when you’d notice his blank stare, pushing your tits up and giving him yet another fantasy he couldn’t get his mind off of.

He’d quickly snap out of whatever trance he was in, eyes flickering from your tits to your face, intense and twinkling — really thinking he was slick enough that you wouldn’t notice it. Then he’d let out a husky chuckle, his hand subtly palming his cock as he’d say, “Of course I am.”

You’d just roll your eyes and continue talking, oblivious to his arousal as he’d stare at your ass, your lips, your legs, his hungry eyes running up and down the length of your perfect body until he was so hard he physically couldn’t stand it.

But that was the norm for him.

For any other girl he had everything — the money, the power, the cars, the looks. He could’ve had literally any other girl he wanted yet he wanted you, yet he couldn’t have you.

You were so professional, always did your job perfectly and always did the right thing, the perfect assistant, the perfect employee, the perfect woman. Why, why, couldn’t you be one of those dumb slutty assistants who he didn’t give a damn about? The ones who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they were a slut, the ones who’d drop everything and suck his dick if he asked, even if he didn’t ask.

But no, you were you and you were so damn different from that and really, that made him want you even more. The fact that you weren’t a dumb girl but a mature woman, as flawless and elegant as rose petals and wine. He wanted you to break out of that persona, see your strong facade crack and crumble for him, for his love, for his cock.

He wanted to see that perfect red lipstick smeared over your tear stained cheeks, see that tight pussy gaping and wet and begging for him, see those lacy panties wrapped around your ankles as he’d fuck you hard and fast before a business meeting in just the way he knew you’d like, just hard enough so everyone could see the stumble in your walk and the tears in your eyes.

One day he was going to have that, one day. But for now he was just gonna have to stick with the lustful stares during crowded meetings and the not-so-innocent fantasies when you’d poke into his office.

One day he’d have you, one day… but for now he was satisfied with jerking his dick off in his office at the sweet smell of your lingering perfume. For now he was okay with imagining to throw you on his desk and fucking your brains out when you’d deliver his coffee in the mornings, his lunch in the afternoon, his dinner in the evenings… all the while staring at you from behind his computer with his dick so achingly hard he couldn’t focus on a damn thing.

All right, he wasn’t okay with it but what choice did he have? Bosses shouldn’t fuck their assistants, but damn, he couldn’t wait to break his own rule and see how easily he could make a good girl turn bad.

━━ WILL ‘IRONHEAD’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

LUMBERJACK! WILL ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 where you went. It was inevitable really; a pretty girl like you, wearing those pink skirts like you did, wearing those 6-inch heels like you did, wearing those tight tops like you did, in a town like this? It was really no wonder why you always got stared at.

It was just unfortunate that you were too dumb to notice that he was no better than the countless men that gawked at you, he was just better at hiding it.

You were the bosses daughter — dangerously beautiful and utterly unattainable (spoiled rotten too). You were a walking, talking Barbie in pink dresses and pretty purses; a pink, glittering ditzy princess who carelessly walked around the muddy work site in those cute heels of yours — William believed you were too beautiful to walk around in the filth.

You were the sweetest little thing he had ever met too — a butterfly in a battlefield — so giggly and cheery it drove him insane. The sound of your voice in his ears, your laugh, twinkling and sweet like sparkling water; he could only imagine how good you’d sound underneath him as he drove his cock into you nice and slow so you felt every vein, every ridge, every curve hitting that spot inside you that made you squeal.

Your father was a good man, had hired Will in a desperate time when he needed someone — something, constant. Ever since then Will had always been the best employee. He was the first hire and the only one to stay when things got tough. He put in the most hours, doing the most work, being the best lumberjack he could be for your father in repayment of his kindness. So for that reason Will had earned your father’s respect in more ways than one — for being patient, hardworking, loyal.

So sometimes Will would feel bad when he’d sneak into the bathroom after a rather short conversation with you; he’d slam the stall door closed and whip out his throbbing cock to relief some of the tension you had so dim wittingly caused.

He’d fuck his fist at the thought of you bent over the break room table he had left you at, cute mini skirt flipped up and giving him a perfect view of that pretty pussy he only prayed to see. He knew it was gorgeous, knew it’d be just as pretty as you, knew he’d be fucking addicted at the first taste.

Will was patient, level headed, a loyal worker who’d never betray your fathers trust… but he’d picture thrusting his thick fingers inside you slowly and carefully, smearing cum over your warm hole and feel your wetness drip down his palm as you begged him to go faster — a pretty pink mess all for him.

He'd imagine throwing your cute little ass against a tree and wrapping your smooth legs around his waist when he was supposed to be working, telling you to be a good girl for him as he'd grope your tits and hear your needy whimpers.

He’d hold you against him as he’d push his hard cock inside your tight little pussy once you begged him enough, listen to your gasps as he’d stretch you out in ways you’d never been stretched before. He'd be sure to cover your mouth with his calloused, work torn hands to muffle your screams, have you claw his chiseled back with those glossy pink nails of yours until he bled.

He’d make you cum around his cock as he whispered every filthy thing he could think of in your ear, hear you whine and whimper and leave bruises in the sweet spots only he got to see; your father would be down the hill confused on where the both of you had gone.

He’d squirt all over his hand and thighs once he was done, panting and hissing from the pleasure pulsing through his body. He knew you were right outside those doors too, right where he left you in the break room, sipping on an ice coffee — completely oblivious.

Will would take a long while to clean himself up after that, the guilt burrowing heavy in his tummy knowing your father’s office was right down the hall. He wouldn’t dare look in that direction, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to look your father in the eye for a good hour.

He’d walk out the bathroom as inconspicuously as possible and put his hands in his coat pockets, walk back into the break room like nothing had happened, like he didn’t want to fuck your brains out right then and there, and he’d lean against the door frame and give you the most charming, innocent smile you dotingly believed.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You’d look up from your phone startled, your tits spilling out of your pink top and the plushness of your thighs flared out on the bench. Your hair was shiny and glittery with cute hair clips on each side, your makeup done so prettily and perfectly he just wanted to ruin it. You looked so damn good Will couldn’t help but take a minute to admire you some more, his eyes running over you hotly, but too subtly for you to notice.

“Oh, hey, where did you go? You said 5 minutes…” You teasingly pouted up at him with those glossy, twinkling lips of yours like you weren’t making this hard enough as it was.

You’d giggle and smile at him — making his heart churn and dick stir. He’d be entranced by your tits jiggling as you did, covered in glittery perfume and smelling of vanilla and strawberries.

So fucking delicious.

Then you’d wrap those same lips around your pink straw and take another sip of your iced coffee.

God damn those lips of yours… Will would go in a daze at the image of you on your knees for him, your lipgloss smeared over your cheeks as you’d suck his swollen cock head into your mouth, patiently waiting for him to say you could take more. Sparkly pink lip stains marked over his dick and balls… it was his dream.

Will knew he was bigger than you too, in a lot of ways, was reminded of if every time you stood next to his hulking form in those cute heels of yours that still didn’t manage to reach him. He was a 6’0 mass of muscle and brawn, carved from brick and forged from stone and way too rough around the edges to handle a delicate thing like you — it’d be like putting a pretty flower petal in the brazen hands of a giant. He wasn’t sure he could have you and not ruin you.

But god damn he’d fucking try. He’d be so delicate and tender with you in ways he’s never been with another woman. He’d cherish every scar and blemish on your smooth skin and treat you like the princess you so clearly were. He’d kiss you from head to toe and lap at your pussy like a poor man worshipping a goddess — he’d be oh so lucky.

He was big, yes, but he promised he wouldn’t crush you. He was rough, yes, but even a pretty girl like you liked having a rough hand wrapped around her throat. You’d be a pretty pink angel wrapped in his gray cotton sheets, held between his mundane, trauma stained hands.

He was manly and burly, all flannel jackets and tree stained jeans and you were girly and feminine, all short skirts and glittering strawberry lipgloss. You two didn’t work in a conventional sense but nothing about his life or yours was conventional.

Your father was a good man and William was a good worker, the best employee, the best lumberjack. He was patient and so loyal, fully aware he was risking his livelihood by wanting you but yet he was left wanting anyway. You were too cute and bouncy and he needed you to bounce on his cock more than he needed a job.

He wanted to see you bare for him — bare in heart, mind, and soul because he knew there was more to you than meets the eye. There was more of you to discover beyond the pink masses and he wanted to be the one that discovered it, the one that you trusted enough to show it to. He wanted to see the real you bared to him in the middle of the night with the beautiful afterglow of what you two had just done shining on your skin — your most organic, happiest form.

“Ah, William, I see you’re keeping my girl company? I hope she’s not keeping you, she’s a chatterbox.” Your father laughed and smacked a hand on Will’s shoulder, suddenly popping up in the doorway like Will had conjured him with his guilt. A thud sounded from the smack and Will felt his shoulder sting, completely shaken out of his fantasy now.

He looked at your father and laughed that charming laugh — I want to fuck your daughter more than I need air to breath sir but no she’s not a problem at all.

━━ BENJAMIN ‘BENNY’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

BARTENDER! BENNY ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 it almost angered you. Every Saturday night the club was packed with women just hoping Benny the Bartender would look their way… it was pathetic, if you didn’t do the exact same thing.

It was routine for you, the only thing you really looked forward to in your long weeks of monotonous work and errands — Benny was new, exciting, and so fucking hot you blushed at just the mere thought of him.

He was so charming too, so good at his job by simply just existing you could see why the company had hired him. With just one dazzling smile the whole room swooned and came, even you, who so pathetically tried to act hard to get at the corner of the bar with your lonely margarita you only ever ordered — you needed to be somewhat tipsy to actually have the confidence to talk to him.

You’d wear your sexiest dresses, your cutest shoes, have your hair done pristinely and your makeup done perfectly all in hopes of Benny noticing you — you were almost ashamed that you valued his attention that much.

You’d sit by yourself, alone, at the end of the bar staring at him while he worked, staring at his face and body and just picturing him fucking you on this very bar with his snapback still on his head, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your tits, anywhere his greedy hands could leave their mark on.

He’d wear baseball tees and black t-shirts that clung perfectly to his abs and muscles — you even heard a rumor that he was in an underground fighting ring that gave him all those muscles and scars in the first place. The thought aroused you incredibly and you couldn’t stop from fluttering your eyes at him more than usual that night.

He seldom never wore his snapback, and while you loved seeing his full face you couldn’t deny how much you loved the nights when he left his hat at home more.

He’d have his dirty blonde hair slicked back out of his face but yet there was always that one rebelling strand that fell over his eyes when he was working… it drove you insane. And the way he’d run his fingers through his hair when he was in the middle of a busy service, the way your own hands could pull it when he was laid between your legs, nibbling on your thighs and bringing you to such an ecstasy you’ve never experienced.

He was such a natural flirt too, professional to a limit when it came to all the women fawning over him over the bar, their tits falling out of their dresses and their lips over lined with lipstick. He’d laugh that boisterous laugh of his, take shots with them like he wasn’t on the clock, and he’d charm the panties right off them and the money right out of their purses by the time he was done.

You couldn’t say you weren’t jealous.

Benny, on the other hand, was all too aware of the pretty girl at the end of the bar who never seemed to bring anyone but her credit card. He was all too aware of her pretty eyes and pretty lips and perfect set of tits in those skimpy dresses she’d always wear.

And honestly, since the first night he saw you he’s wanted you.

He’d flirt with you all the time in that southern accent of his that charmed all the ladies, but you never seemed to register it, or in other words, you never seemed to care.

You were nothing like the women he dealt with every night — you would roll your eyes when he’d tell you how happy he was to see you again, purse your lips when he complimented your makeup, and seem totally disinterested in him and whatever nonsense he had to say.

And he fucking loved it.

You didn’t fawn over him like the others girls did, you didn’t seem to buy into the whole charming bartender shtick he portrayed either. You were quiet and beautiful and sharp; you never seemed too desperate or eager for him like everyone else. Sure, he loved the attention from other women, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t, but the fact that he never seemed to have yours made him want you even more.

He’d flirt with you whenever he got the chance to, knew your drink of choice by heart now and was always there to fill it back up when it was empty. He was attentive to your needs and he swore he could be just as attentive in other settings if you gave him the chance.

You’d just sit there in the shadows, skin flashing blue and black from the lights of the club and looking so damn fine Benny wished he could drag you into the bathroom and fuck your brains out on the door, feel the music pumping through your veins as you stuck your tongue in his mouth until all he tasted was you and liqueur.

It’d be fast and hot and he wouldn’t be able to breath in anything but you and margarita salt but it sounded perfect. His big hand wrapped around your throat as people knocked on the door like you two weren’t busy. He’d try to muffle your moans for your sake but he’d also decide he liked hearing them more. It’d be cramped and intimate and it would certainly leave him breathless but god damn that sounded like just what he needed right now.

He’d be drunk on you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you wrapped around him so tight — the mysterious girl he could never seem to break through to no matter how many times he tried. Sometimes, Benny even felt like giving up — you clearly didn’t want him like he wanted you.

But then, at some point during the night when you were two margaritas in and your eyes were starting to get hazy, he’d look over at you and you’d be giving him the hottest, most seductive look he’s ever seen. It makes his heart pound and skin prickle, his cock ache for something.

It was the kind of look where your eyelashes would flutter and you’d stare up at him with a delectable little smirk on your face, a look that screamed take me now, take me on this bar and show everyone what you’re capable of, show these other bitches you only want me.

And he fucking wished he could. It was that look that kept him going, that look that gave him hope.

And you wanted him to do just that. To leave bruises on your skin and taint your body with himself, to leave his mark on your pussy and soul and be so deep inside you you weren’t sure where his body began and your pleasure ended, just that you needed more, more, more of it.

But Benny assumed that was the game you two liked to play — to show up every Saturday night with the expectation that one of you was going to finally make a move on the other. To see who would crack first, give in to the temptation the both of you so clearly desired but neither were confident enough to admit.

Benny, the sexy bartender obsessed with the mysterious girl who barely gave him the time of day.

You, the girl at the end of the bar wishing Benny would just take the initiative and fuck her already.

And to think, Benny did want you, wanted you so fucking badly, only you. You’re the one that he even bothered to show off for anyway; flipping bottles, being quick on his feet, being better than anyone else cause he knew you were the one watching.

He made a soulful promise to both you and him that one of these nights you’re gonna give him that damned look one more time and he’s not gonna have a choice but to prove to you why you shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish.

━━ FRANK ‘CATFISH’ MORALES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP DAD! FRANK ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 for a good year and a half before he met you, the young and beautiful daughter of the woman he supposedly loved.

You were grown, well, grown enough; a beautiful woman with dreams and ambitions, goals for her life that he couldn’t help but admire. But you also had this delectable snark you certainly didn’t get from your mother, an attitude that made anything remotely good about you pale in comparison — it drove him mad.

He hated to act like a father to you because he wasn’t your father — you were in your 20s anyway, it was too late for him to be anything other than Frank. He was just an older man in your life set to wed your mother, yet he really only had eyes for you, his beautiful step daughter he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about when he was fucking your mother.

You were bratty and mean, always rolled your eyes at him and walked off right in the middle of him talking to you; you wore those short shorts he despised (loved more than he should have) and those dresses that clung just a little too tight to your body for his liking. You were disobedient and rude, but so fucking sexy he was left torn between his desires and morals.

You never cared what he had to say about anything, never bothered to listen to his rules, and never bothered to wear some god damn house appropriate shorts that didn’t shove your round ass into his face every time he walked past you.

He imagined bending you over his knee and pulling your shorts off you, gently sliding your pink panties down your thighs, then spanking your ass, hard, like the disobedient brat you were until his handprints were etched into your skin, until you were sniffling and moaning for him to stop, until you had finally learned some respect.

He wondered if you’d get wet from that simple act alone: maybe your childish attitude was all a front, an act, to really piss him off to his limits and see how far you could push him until he broke. Maybe you wanted to be punished by him, be spanked raw, be fucked hard, until tears were streaming in your pretty little eyes and you were sobbing your apologizes to him instead of running your mouth.

As a matter of fact he should do just that; with all the times you’d “accidentally�� leave the door open when you were showering and your mother had gone shopping, just you and Frank and the sizzling tension between you left to fend for itself. He was a gentleman at heart but no man could deny the allure of such a pretty body like yours covered in water.

He should shove your face into his pillow and fuck you from behind so you didn’t have to see his face like he knew you’d want to. He’d hold your hands behind your back and pound you until you cried for him to stop, to go faster, that it hurts, but you fucking wanted more.

You’d probably be a squirter too, all mean girls like you were when they got stripped down to the bare parts of themselves, where they couldn’t hide behind their own insolence and were touched by the experienced hands of an older man.

Frank was a patient man, a very patient man. It took a lot to drive him over the edge but yet you always seemed to know just what to say and just what to do to really push his buttons.

Your bedroom door wide open as you changed out of your bra, your perky tits all smooth and round for him to ogle at through the hallway, your music blasting through the whole house when he was trying to get some god damn sleep, bringing over your stupid little boyfriends into his house and letting them fuck you under his roof — it was all reason enough for him to punish you.

And no, Frank wasn’t jealous. He was a grown man, what did he have to be jealous about? He wasn’t jealous when he’d hear your moans sound through the whole house, the headboard banging on the wall, the giggles you’d try to hide as you’d walk them out the door. It was pathetic. Those boys could never fuck you like he could and he knew it. He was not jealous.

You were a bad girl, a naughty girl, and he didn’t like pretty little girls who thought they knew better than him.

You never showed him any gratitude, or appreciation for taking you and your mother in when he didn’t have to, you never thanked him when he made you a hot meal, and you never listened when he’d say put gas back in my car if you use it.

He basically let you do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. There was no structure, no rhyme or reason to anything you did and he’d be damned if he was going to let a spoiled brat like you make his life any harder than it needed to be.

Your mother was an angel, all kisses and kind words and that’s why he loved her in the first place. He had plans to marry her and live a great life with her. Even when she mentioned a daughter Frank didn’t worry, he imagined an adorable little toddler with big doe eyes and a kind heart just like her mother. But then he met you, and you were no kid, and you were certainly no fucking angel.

You were a soul sucking succubus sent from the depths of hell to tempt him, to make him fail yet another marriage. You were young and he knew it was wrong to despise you yet simultaneously want you so fucking badly. He wanted you out of his house, but he also wanted you on your knees and gagging around his cock. He wanted you to shut up for once, but he also wanted you to scream his name until the neighbors knew it.

It was certainly complicated and contradicting, and with his wedding on the way he really didn’t need anything going wrong. But, he figured, if he married your mother at least he would always be around to keep you in line, right?

[musings-of-a-rose]

Camping Trip

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader (nickname Autumn)

Word Count: 3400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen. I don’t know. I just saw the picture in the upper right of my moodboard and came up with this. Ok fine I wrote the first 3 paragraphs in May and the rest now. Will and I are complicated, ok? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for reading and listening to my ramblings as always!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

It had been a rough few months, no doubt about that. Somehow, I survived. Made it to the solo camping trip I had been thinking about for months. It's nothing I haven't done before. Even the trails and campsite are familiar. Still, it had been a few years and I was itching to get away from the city and all the noises it pounds into my head.

I head down the backroads, the pine trees growing thicker the further out I get from the city. At first I pass a lot of cars, mostly traveling into the city. But after a while, when the trees are so tall I can't see over them, so thick I can barely see through them, I'm the only car on the road.

I see the sign for the campsite and turn, heading down the dirt path to the small parking lot about a half mile in from the road. There are a couple of other jeeps and trucks here, one of them belonging to the park ranger who sits inside the small welcome center/general store. I head inside to use the bathroom, the last little "luxury" I give myself before spending a week away from everyone.

"Hi mis- Autumn! Haven't seen you for what...3 years?"

I smile at the man behind the counter, giving him a little wave. "Hey Jay! You're still working here? I thought you'd have retired by now." I grab a couple of bags of the beef jerky they have on sale. It's made by a local farmer and I can only get it here.

Jay chuckles. "Next year. Maybe."

"Don't push yourself too hard, Jay."

"Oh! Mary had her baby! Course she's 3 now."

"Oh really? Damn, 3 already?”

Jay looks at me pointedly. “Well that’s what you get for taking so long to come back and visit.”

Before I can answer, the bell on the entrance door jingles out and Jay glances over my shoulder. “Afternoon, sir! Can I help you with anything?”

“Just a trail map, thanks.” His voice is a little raspy, like he hadn’t used it for a while. I turn to point to the map stand but am momentarily frozen. 

This man is gorgeous.

Tall, short blonde hair, slightly longer up top. Military or ex military judging by the cut and the way he holds himself. But his eyes meet mine, slate blue and what was I saying? 

Jay pinches my arm. “Show him the maps, Autumn.”

I force a small chuckle to Jay, quickly pulling my arm from his pinching fingers and walk towards the blonde man and am hit with the scent of pine, leather, and old spice. Normally I would not be into the latter on a man but the way it mixes with his natural scent is going straight to my head. And other places.

“Here,” I somehow manage to walk past him and grab a map from the spinning holder, turning to hand it to him. The man takes it, his eyes twinkling before he gives me a quick wink.

“Thanks, darlin’.” His eyes quickly flick down my body, or maybe I’m imagining it? 

“You check the weather before coming, sir?”

His eyes are on mine still for another moment before he turns to address Jay. “Yeah I did. This isn’t my first time camping.”

Jay nods. “Military?”

The man chuckles. “Vet. Am I that obvious?”

Jay shrugs. “Not exactly. I just know people. Well, as long as you know what you’re in for. Shouldn’t be too bad but just make sure to stay warm. Not sure how long you’ll be here but if ever a blizzard alert comes up, you come right back here, ok? There’s a small cabin out back that’s open to campers 24/7.”

“Thanks.” The man takes his map, declining Jay’s offer of a bag. He glances back over at me. “See you later, darlin’.”

Fuck. Me. “See you!”

It takes me the usual couple of days to make it to my favorite spot, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I break through the trees, the breathtaking view of the mountains and lake spread out before me. It feels like coming home. 

I get to work setting up my camp, fire and tent good to go, my food hanging from a bag in a tree. I managed to find a place with a good fallen log, perfect for sitting on or against and close enough to the fire so I can keep warm. The wind blows through the nettles of the tall pines around me, the cool, misty breeze coating the exposed skin on my face. I take a deep breath in and out. I really missed being here. 

I do turn on my high powered radio to listen to the weather report twice a day, making sure nothing unexpected is coming. There’s something the weathermen are looking at, but they don’t think it’ll be anything. Still, the temps are sure to drop in a couple of days and there may be a bit of snow. I’m prepared for it, but it’s still good to know. 

A couple days later, I’m about a half mile from camp, walking along the trail near the lake. So far, I’ve seen a couple of deer and a ton of birds. I’m stopped, leaning against a tree trunk to take a quick break when I hear the sound of footsteps on the path ahead. I know I’m not the only one camping, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t instantly on alert. Another couple of seconds of hearing the sound and I know it’s human. From around the curve of the path emerges the man from Jay’s, his pack full and looking heavy. He sounds a little winded and had obviously been walking for a bit. I straighten myself and wave to him.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here!”

The man glances at me and smiles, the same one from the shop. “Hey…Autumn?”

I nod. I tell him my real name. “But Jay’s been calling me Autumn since I first came to this trail.”

“Let me guess. It was during Autumn?”

I chuckle. “Jay is original.”

He comes closer, but stops several feet away, breathing heavier. “I’m Will.”

“Nice to meet you, Will.”

He nods to me. “Same.”

He still doesn’t move. “I don’t bite, you know.”

He cocks his head, confused, but then seems to piece it together. “Oh. Well, I didn’t want to freak you out by invading your space.”

I’m fairly positive if this man wanted to take me down, he could’ve done that, several feet away with a pack on or no. “Thank you. That’s…unexpected. And kind.”

“Don’t other people do that?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Oh. Well they should.”

I shrug. “Maybe….but Will, you can come closer. It’s alright.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

He remains rooted to the spot. “You don’t think I’ll take advantage of you?”

I snort. “I’m fairly positive you could’ve done that already, Mr. Military. Don’t threaten me with a good time.” What the fuck did I just say?

I swear I see the tips of his ears turn pink as he chuckles, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. “A good time it would be.”

He comes closer and I gesture towards my bag which is resting against a log. He takes his own off and sets it beside mine, shrugging and stretching his shoulders a bit. “I really should’ve taken a break before now. Gettin’ old sucks.”

I chuckle, my eyes roaming down his arms, the flannel on his shirt hugging his biceps in all the right ways. 

“You look in great shape to me.” 

His eyes meet mine and we stare at each other for several moments before I blink, shaking my head a little to rid myself of the not at all PG thoughts I was having.

“So…are you trying to make it back to that cabin before the weather moves in?”

Will clears his throat, giving his own head a little shake before crossing his arms across his broad chest. “That was the plan.”

“Have you listened to the weather station today?”

He furrows his brows and I melt. “No, why?”

“The uh..storm? Is moving a little faster than they thought. No way you’ll make it back to Jay’s cabin before it starts to pick up.”

“Shit.” Will sighs, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I really thought I’d be able to make it but my leg was acting up.” 

I can tell he’s not used to this, needing breaks. He seems like the kind of guy that just pushes through the pain. Until it pushes back.

“Come on. You can stay with me.” I push back from the tree and lean down to get my pack, swinging it up on my back. When I look back up at Will, he’s staring at me, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Did you just invite me to your camp?”

I adjust the straps on my shoulders. “Yeah. Let’s get going so that way we aren’t stuck.”

“You trust me?”

I click the last strap into place across my chest before I look at him. “I thought we established that I do.”

He studies me for a long moment, his eyes moving between mine and I swear he glances down at my lips. “You sure you have the space?”

I shrug. “May be a little bit of a squeeze but temps are dropping anyway. We can always find a way to get warm.” What did I just say?

A small smirk spreads across his beautiful face. “I’m sure we can, darlin’.” He leans down and grabs his own pack, situating it on his back before he gestures to me. “Lead the way.”

Talking to Will is easy, comforting almost. He tells me about his time in the army, Delta Force, and his brothers, including his real life brother Benny. A golden retriever of a man if I ever heard of one. He asks me questions about my life and listens intently, actually interested in what I have to say. Before I know it, we’re back at my camp. Will stops for a moment, staring out over the lake at the mountain behind it and whistles. “You found a hell of a view.”

“Thanks. It took me a couple years to find but now it’s like home.”

Will helps me start a fire and get food cooking, laughter and conversation flows just as easily as before and I find myself gravitating towards him, physically. But he also seems to be scooting closer and closer until our legs are nearly touching. Snowflakes start to fall, coming in faster and thicker.

“We should probably get the sleeping bags set up before it gets hard to see,” Will suggests, his breath puffing out in tendrils in front of him. 

“Good idea.”

Will gets the outside of our little camp ready as the sun starts to dip and night comes. We manage to get in the tent before the snow really starts to come down. It’s a little bigger than a one room tent, but we’re still pretty snug in here now that there’s two of us. And he’s so fucking broad. I shift my sleeping bag over a bit more and Will slides his down next to mine. He looks between our bags and then up at me, his eyebrows pulled together in slight concern.

“What is it?” I ask nervously.

“It’s…nevermind.”

I punch his arm and have to choke back a scream at how firm it is. “Just tell me.”

He chuckles while he dramatically rubs his arm. “Ouch,” he smirks as I roll my eyes. “But we should zip our bags together. For warmth. It’s about to get pretty cold.”

“William Miller. Are you asking to get in my sleeping bag with me?”

He shifts nervously, his ear tips turning red. “No! I uh, that’s not… I mean, it’s basic survival. I didn’t mean.. I don’t want you to think-”

I laugh then, cutting him off. “Chill out, Will. I know how you meant it. You’re a nice guy. I just like watching you blush.”

He rubs at his face. “You’re dangerous.”

“How dare you, good sir. I am a lady.”

He snorts and I swear under his breath he says “I bet you are.”

We get the bags zipped together and slide down in them, trying to leave as much space as we could between us. After several minutes of us shuffling around awkwardly, Will chuckles.

“You wanna be the big spoon or the little one?”

My laughter rings out in the tent joining his, tears streaming down my face at this brilliant tension breaker. “I’ll be little,” I choke out. I turn around, facing my back towards him. I feel him scoot closer and heat instantly rushes through my body, pooling between my thighs. Can he hear how my heart is about to beat from my chest?

“Is this ok?” Will’s breath fans out over my neck, goosebumps erupting in it’s wake. 

“Uh..I uh…y-yeah. All good. Is it uh, close enough? For survival, I mean.”

Will clears his throat. “Uh, well I mean. We should probably be, uh, closer. To stay warm. For survival, of course.”

“Well if it’s for survival, scoot as close as you want.”

He makes a choking sound but shifts closer, his body molding to mine. I can feel his hand hovering, unsure of where to place it. I reach back and take it, gently placing it on my hip, trying to ignore the heat that immediately ignites, flowing down between my legs. The wind blows outside, the tent rustling with it. I shift my hips a little and Will’s grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin. And I can feel something else pressing against my ass and I swallow hard.

“You’re going to have to stop moving around, darlin’. Please.” He chokes out the last word, sounding restrained. 

I take a deep breath. “What if I don’t want to?”

His grip tightens even more and I know I’ll bruise if he keeps it up. And I don’t care if I do. 

“I’m trying really hard to be respectful, Autumn.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Don’t be respectful then.”

A quiet growl emanates from him. “What are you saying?”

I make sure I have his gaze. “Be disrespectful. If it’s permission you want, you have it.” 

He watches me for a long moment before I feel him shift, his arm that’s not gripping my hip sliding under my neck. He twists his wrist, sliding it down to unbutton my shirt, his hand finding it’s way down my shirt and under my bra, gently swiping his fingers over my nipple. But at the same time, his other hand slowly moves from my hip, pulling my leg up and over his own, his hand gently teasing my skin as he pushes it under my pantline and between my legs, another groan when he feels how wet I am. I gasp as he nips at my shoulder. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, Autumn.”

I try to respond, but instead a moan escapes me as his fingers start to play with me, gentle circles with alternating pressure as all my blood rushes between my legs, that fire igniting rather quickly. 

“Will, I’m gonna…” I’m not entirely sure what I say as I come, my leg twitching as my body soars, pleasure radiating out from between my thighs, spreading throughout me.

“Feeling warm?” Will speaks deeply in my ear, nibbling a little on my ear lobe.

I nod, my head flying already. “You didn’t even take my clothes off.”

He chuckles against my neck. “I told you I was respectful.”

Surprising even myself, I reach behind me and grab him over his pants. He grunts but pushes against my hand, no doubt relieving some of the pressure. I turn my head towards him, my lips barely brushing his. “Please, Will.”

His eyes are like a storm at sea, blue and wild, darkening. “Tell me.”

I take his hand and push it between my legs where I was growing wetter by the second as I push my hips back, grinding on him. He grunts in my ear. “You gotta stop doing that or I won’t be able to hold myself.”

My hand, still over his, pushes his fingers towards my entrance, his thick fingers circling me, heat and anticipation swirling around me. “D-don’t hold yourself back. Fuck me, Will. Please,” I’m not above begging at this point, his finger continuing to edge me along. But then he’s pulling his hand out of my pants, trying to sit up but struggling because we’re in a sleeping bag. 

“Take off your clothes before I rip them off.”

That command went straight through me, my fingers moving quickly to take off all my clothes, tossing them out of the sleeping bag. Will does the same on his own, starting his own neater pile outside of the sleeping bag. I lay back down, assuming he’ll want the same position. His fingers skim across my side, watching the goosebumps pimple up. But then he pushes my hip down, turning me on my back as he slides over my body, my legs opening as wide as I can to give him space. He’s heavy, fuck he’s so much bigger than I thought as he presses against my clit, hot and pulsing. His eyes find mine, a dark twinkle in them as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I part them and he slides his tongue inside, the kiss quickly heating up as he starts to move his hips. He slides himself over me, back and forth across my clit, swallowing my moans. My fingers dig at his back, silently begging him for more. The pressure is so intense, so much, that if he doesn’t fuck me now, I may just pop. Or go insane. 

Then Will gently takes my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head. His hips shift and with a confident stride, he pushes into me, my head pressing back into the pillow as I feel the pleasant burn, my body stretching to accept him, all of him. He pulls his hips back and pushes in, this time with a little more force and I feel a jolt through my body as he hits some spot at the back of me. I whine as Will continues to fuck me, slowly but forcefully, heat coursing through me. And then, I snap, crying out his name as I squeeze around him, my entire body lighting up and carrying me away from myself, my release made more intense by being pinned under him, unable to move away from the intense pleasure. 

Will’s breaths are heavy, panting out with restraint, like he’s holding himself back. He kisses me again, hard, nipping at my bottom lip before pulling back and out, but before I have a chance to feel too empty, he somehow flips me on my belly, my boobs pressing into the sleeping bag as he arcs my hips up just enough for him to slide in easily, my body greedily taking him in. He lays on top of me, his arms over mine as he laces his fingers with my hands. The weight of him both on and in me sends heat right back between my legs. He bites at my neck and shoulder as he fucks into me, deeper and harder with every thrust until I’m coming again, screaming his name into my pillow as I feel his hips sputter, Will whining in my ear as he spills inside of me. His body slumps against mine, both of us trying to catch our breath. Eventually, he slides off of me and to my side, turning me and pulling me to his chest. He nuzzles in my hair, wrapping his arms around me again, one massive hand holding a boob.

“Warm enough?” Will whispers in my ear.

“Mmm..” I respond. “You didn’t tell me you could fuck, Will.”

He chuckles and kisses my neck. “I’m restricted by this sleeping bag, darlin’. I did the best I could.”

The whine that escapes me is loud. “I’d love to see that.”

“Well when I’m done with you after this camping trip darlin’, you’re going to need some time to recover. And then I plan on showing you exactly how my fucking is.”

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