#Mourning Widow behavior | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fearlesstigerquotev · 8 months ago

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Ensnared

Yandere M!Pied Piper X F!Reader

Warnings: Mild body horror, possessive + yandere behavior masterlist

Once upon a time, in the land cradled between the winding waters of the river Weser, there lay two towns, Hamelin and Weidehohl, each a curiosity of its own. To the west, Weidehohl nestled amidst the towering, age-old trees, where the pagans roamed, their shadows falling on creatures of the forest, and their deeds shrouded in darkness. They committed crimes that troubled the very heavens, where cats were denied their lives, and dogs met a mournful fate.

On the opposite bank, to the east, stood Hamelin, a settlement graced by the protective embrace of four mighty forts, where no soul could pass unseen or unnoticed. It was a city crafted from the warm, welcoming wood of time, its heart radiating with peace and prosperity. In Hamelin, the gentle hand of Christ blessed the land with abundance.

And in the blessed town of Hamelin lived a widow named Y/N. Her heart was as pure as the morning dew, yet heavy with the sorrow of a love lost. Her beloved had embarked on a sacred missionary journey, and for seven long days and seven nights, he had vanished from her sight. It was on the seventh night that his lifeless form was returned to her humble dwelling, a pitiful sight to behold. His body resembled a mangled corpse, the limbs poking out in odd angles, the silver cross ripped from his neck. Even the cherished keepsake, a timepiece adorned with a lovingly-crafted portrait of his beloved wife on their wedding day, had vanished into the shadows.

With tearful eyes and a contrite heart, the widow sought solace in the confessional, where she bared her soul to the priest and questioned the sins that had led to her husband's gruesome fate at the hands of the pagans. But the priest, hidden behind the confessional booth, offered words of comfort and guidance.

"Nay, dear child, the burden of blame lies not upon your shoulders," he whispered gently. "The pagans of Weidehohl are the architects of this sorrow, and their lives shall remain fraught with wretchedness unless they turn to the benevolent embrace of Christ."

"Father," Y/N confessed, "in my despair, I confess to having missed Sunday Mass twice in succession. What penance must I undertake to cleanse my soul of sin and ensure the reunion of my husband and me in the heavenly kingdom of our Lord?"

"My dear child," came the priest's soothing reply, "perform acts of charity, extend your hand to the needy, and become a sponsor to the orphan. Through these acts of benevolence, your soul shall find its path to redemption, and in the divine grace of our Lord, you shall one day be reunited with your beloved in the heavenly realm."

And so, the widow poured the essence of her very being into the sacred act of spreading the love of the Savior. She became the guardian of the forsaken, running a humble orphanage for the downtrodden street urchins. Beneath the sheltering eaves of her makeshift home, she provided not only a sanctuary from the cold, unforgiving world but also warm soups that chased away the hunger that gnawed at their fragile bellies.

To those who approached her with intentions other than those of the divine, she responded with an unshakable steadfastness. Her words, like a sermon from the heavens, would gently rebuke them, reminding them of the plight of the orphans and how humanity had often forsaken those less fortunate. In her wisdom, there was a grain of truth: Why should the Church entrust a humble widow with the monumental task of caring for orphans, while it basked in the wealth derived from indulgences?

Yet, Y/N knew better than to arouse the ire of the Church, for as a widow, a solitary soul, she teetered on the precipice of society's margins. A single misstep could condemn her to the mercy of the clergy, leaving her precarious existence hanging by a slender thread.

But despite her pure intentions, the Devil would test her belief in God once again. This time, He unleashed upon her beloved Hamelin a deluge of rats and mice, a horde of vermin with ravenous appetites. They descended upon the city like the overflowing waters of the river Weser, devouring the meager stores of grain, defiling the once-pure waters of the public well with their loathsome droppings, and spreading pestilence and death throughout the land.

In the face of this vile pestilence, the people of Hamelin turned to their faith with fervor, seeking solace and redemption in daily worship. Their voices echoed with praises to the Lord, sung until they grew hoarse from their devotion. Yet, amidst their piety, the plight of the orphaned souls remained unseen, their suffering ignored. Hearts once kind were now veiled by self-righteousness, their pride preventing even a morsel of bread from being offered to those in need. And so, Y/N toiled away once more, her body growing weaker and more fragile as the weeks passed by.

One day, a curious traveler, bedecked in a garb of vivid hues, sauntered into the fortified realm of Hamelin. Bemused and bedazzled, the city's folk kept a wary distance from this stranger, their wariness ignited by his flamboyant cloak and hair ablaze like Hell's own fire. At his neck, he wore not the sacred cross but a flute, intricately carved from bone.

"Citizens of Hamelin," rang out his voice like a melodious tune, "I bear, through secret charms unknown to most, the power to summon forth all creatures dwelling beneath the sun—those that crawl, swim, fly, or race across the land. These are the creatures that oft bring harm upon you—the mole, the toad, the newt, and the serpent. People call me the Pied Piper. If I but free your town from its rat-borne scourge, shall you grant me a thousand guilders?"

"A thousand guilders? Secret charm?" laughed the crowd. "We'd sooner drink cow's urine than entertain the whims of a charlatan like thee! Why, you are clothed like the pagans of Weidehohl! We good Christians would never associate ourselves with infidels like thee!"

And so, the Pied Piper found himself slumbering upon the city's cobblestone streets, right before the doorstep of the humble orphanage. Unable to turn a blind eye, she fed him with the crusts of bread the children could not eat, and soup made of vegetable scraps.

He looked up at her, bewildered that one of the citizens who had rejected him would dare nourish him. "Dost thou not fear condemnation? To aid a stranger such as I?"

"Nonsense," came her swift reply, "before me, I see neither stranger, nor maverick, nor even one hailing from Weidehohl. In this moment, I behold but a fellow soul, a man who may succumb to the bitter cold if aid is not given."

Bringing the broth to his lips, the Pied Piper relished in its salty aroma. How could a denizen of Hamelin, known for their stern devotion to God's path, radiate such tender warmth? In what felt like but a heartbeat, the soup disappeared from his bowl. "Is... Is this the doctrine of thy Lord?"

She smiled as she took the bowl from him, "Indeed, it is the teaching of our Lord, who bids us to love one another as He loves us."

The Pied Piper could only chuckle and rake his fingers through his red hair, which twirled upwards in delicate curls at the base of his collarbone. "Throughout my long years upon this Earth, they have regarded me as but an exterminator, a mere tool to rid their towns of the earthly vermin. Never have I been graced by the presence of Mother Mary herself."

"Mother Mary? How does a pagan such as yourself know of her?" curiosity laced Y/N's voice as she sat down next to him. Inside the orphanage, the children, intrigued by the unusual encounter, giggled and vied for a view between their surrogate mother and the curious visitor.

The Piper bestowed upon her a subtle, enigmatic grin, and with a deft movement of his fingers, he began to play a soft, mesmerizing tune on his flute—a melody so enchanting that it seemed as if the very stars had descended to dance in the moonlit night.

The children, drawn by the enchanting music, abandoned their timid hideaways and gathered around the pair. Their eyes, wide with innocent wonder, bore witness to the magic of the Piper's tune—a melody that had never before graced their ears. For indeed, the orphans had never heard of the wonderous music before. It was unlike the solemn hymns of the church, rigid and controlled. Instead, it was a music that spoke of freedom, of joy, and liberation from the chains of the mundane.

Y/N couldn't help but feel that it danced on the edge of sin, but she could not deny the children their delight. She allowed them to dance and frolic, their laughter rising like the joyful laughter of forest spirits.

In the end, she never received an answer to her question.

With the passage of time, Y/N perceived a waning in the rat population, witnessed the orphans suffer less from the grip of disease, and felt her own health flourish in the absence of the rodents.

"Perhaps the Lord has graced me for extending sustenance to the Pied Piper?" she pondered, conversing with her fellow women during Sunday Mass.

"Hush, dear," came their swift rejoinder, "you were simply a fortunate soul. Our homes still teem with the pestilence of mice!"

"But consider this," Y/N beseeched, her voice laden with earnestness, "What if God sent this plague as a trial? A test of our kindness and charity, a challenge to alleviate the traveler's suffering, even if he be unconventional? If each working man were to bestow but one guilder upon the Piper, he would amass a bounty sufficient to lead the rats away from Hamelin!"

Her words did not go unheard by the mayor. Share his own coffers of wealth would he not. But pluck a thousand guilders from the working class to please the Piper—a fine deal indeed. After Mass, he called the Pied Piper to his office and told him of the proposal.

In response, the Piper laughed and shook his head, "Gentleman, the thousand guilders were but a jest. All I seek is a fine wife in exchange for my services."

The mayor's eyes lit up in delight. Now, he would not even need to part ways with his beloved coin! "Go forth, and choose an unmarried woman of your liking! Do anything that you must in order to kill the rats of Hamelin!"

On the morrow, the good folk of Hamelin awoke to a sight most peculiar. The Pied Piper, with his mop of hair burning red, led an army of rats away from the town, all the while playing a merry tune on his bone-carved flute. His garments billowed like swallows riding the breath of the wind, whilst the rats scurried at his feet, dancing with mania. They squeaked and chirped, running and tumbling in circles, over cobblestone roads, through the gates of Hamelin, over hills and meadows, until they reached the winding river Weser.

"Little rodents! Ye must be parched from your toil! Go, partake of the waters that the Lord Christ hath graciously provided!" sang the Piper, twirling around his own axis as he played the hypnotizing tune.

As if by some mystical command, the rats leaped into the river, one by one, and there, they met their watery fate.

"My, 'tis sorcery!" screeched the resident priest, clutching his cross in the palm of his gnarled hand.

The mayor interjected, "But Reverend, thou must admit, the young lad hath cured us of this plight! And in return, all he seeks is a companion—a wife!"

The Pied Piper turned toward the crowd and bowed with theatrical elegance. The colors of his cloak simmered and contorted—one moment, a vibrant lemon yellow. The next—deep cerulean blue. Loud gasps of wonder and awe erupted from the crowd, who had formed a small comune along the river bank.

With a dazzling smile, the Pied Piper got down on one knee and raised his arms to the heavens, "Fair maiden, protector of the orphans, a soul akin to the benevolent Mary herself! Amongst the Christians of Hamelin, you alone treated me with the grace of human kindness. Would you do me the honor of becoming my cherished bride, despite the unfavorable reputation that taints my name among your townsfolk?"

Y/N froze and averted her gaze to the ground. Using the sleeve of her dress to conceal her face, she replied, "An outcast for an outcast, it seems. Piper, you have placed me in a most wretched predicament. I have dedicated my life in service to God and find myself an unwedded widow, a spinster by the world's judgment."

His expression darkened but was soon replaced by a charming smile. "Fair lady, I take it as a no?"

Unable to speak another word, the widow nodded, unable to reciprocate his smile. What use was there in accepting the hand of a man whose name remained a mystery to her? Besides, the priest would never officiate a marriage between a believing woman and an infidel. Even an infidel who saved Hamelin from certain ruin.

"Fear not. I had a lingering suspicion that such would be thy response."

Once more, he brought the bone-carved flute to his lips. But this time, the melody that poured forth carried an almost otherworldly quality, a tune that seemed to teeter on the brink of the supernatural.

The children, both orphans and those with families of their own, emerged from their homes, their gleeful laughter and exuberant cries resonating through the air like the unholy revelry of a wicked tarantella. Yet, as the music wove its spell, a sinister transformation overtook them. Their limbs elongated and stretched, contorting to grotesque proportions, as if every ounce of their humanity was being pulled apart by unseen hands.

The adults could not move a single muscle, it was as if their feet were planted firmly in the ground. Y/N herself was no exception, and she screamed and begged the Piper to stop this madness. But whenever she tried to take a step toward him, her legs were met with a gripping pain, searing through her body, mind, and soul.

There was no doubt: The Piper wanted to see the Hamelians suffer. More specifically, Y/N.

Their movements grew wild and untamed, limbs flailing and twisting with a grotesque grace that defied the laws of nature. It was as though their bodies had become marionettes, but marionettes manipulated by a malevolent puppeteer, their movements driven by a dark and unholy force. They twirled and spun, their movements growing increasingly frenzied, entrapped in a wicked ritual that defied the doctrine of the Lord itself.

Laughter mixed with the cracking of bones as the children frolicked and pranced, following the Piper as he led them away from Hamelin. Together, they crossed the shimmering waters of the river Weser, traversed rolling hills, until they disappeared into the foreboding depths of the woods that led to Weidehohl.

Y/N was the first to break out of the trance. With lightning-fast reflexes and a heart heavy with dread, she sprinted toward the looming woods that led to Weidehohl, her voice raised in a desperate cry. "Children! Come back! This is not the path ordained by the Lord!"

But her pleas fell upon deaf ears as the possessed children, their eyes vacant and their limbs contorted, followed the Piper deeper into the shadowy woods. Deeper into the woods she ran, the gnarled branches of ancient trees clawing at her as if trying to hold her back. She followed the trail of broken branches and twisted footprints, breadcrumbs of waning hope that stretched endlessly into the heart of the forest.

Finally, at the heart of the sinister forest, she stumbled upon the lame boy, his eyes wide with terror and confusion. His frail form quivered, unable to join in the manic dance of his peers. Y/N knelt beside him, murmuring prayers of protection and strength. "Where have they gone, dear child?"

"There..." the lame boy whispered, pointing to a clearing in the midst of the woods.

The widow told the boy to stay put and approached the clearing. To her surprise, the clearing appeared utterly ordinary, as if untouched by the dark enchantment that had gripped the children. Bewildered, she turned back to check on the lame boy, only to have her heart plummet to her very shoes. He had vanished without a trace.

Heart hammering in her chest, she ran through the woods, between the ancient trees, leaping over quaint forest streams. But the lame boy was nowhere to be found. Not even the wretched Piper or the remaining children.

A gloved hand grabbed hers. Y/N shrieked and begged to be released, but it only caused the grip to tighten. She blinked and the next thing she knew, she was in a forest village, surrounded by the children she had come to love oh-so-dearly.

Overcome with relief, she ran forward and embraced the children, sobbing and wailing just like at her deceased husband's funeral. Through tear-filled eyes, she beheld a wondrous transformation of the world around her. Waters gushed and sparkled, fruit trees burst into bloom with an otherworldly splendor, and flowers unfurled in hues that defied earthly comparison. Sparrows radiated a brilliance surpassing that of peacocks, their plumage resplendent. Horses bore wings akin to eagles, and even the honeybees had shed their stingers.

"Welcome to Weidehohl!" announced the Piper, taking her hand once more. Ignoring her pleas for release, he dipped and twirled the maiden with practiced ease, his steps sure and confident. Whispering sweet nothings, he drew her close for a kiss, and his gloved fingers brushed away the tears that streamed down her face. They danced in graceful circles, surrounded by the mesmerizing melody of the birds and the bees, who serenaded them with joyful chirps and buzzing.

It was then that she noticed the transformed children, each playing a flute similar to the one that dangled from the Piper's neck. The tune that flowed from their instruments was all too familiar—a cherished church hymn reserved for weddings. Dread seized her heart as the realization settled in, and all she could do was weep as the Pied Piper kissed away her tears,

As she danced, a small piece of metal fell from within the man's garments and onto the forest floor.

A timepiece, engraved with a lovingly-crafted portrait of herself on their wedding day. But in place of her late husband now stood the Pied Piper.

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blue-mint-winter · 2 months ago

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Daemon and Viserys' relationship and their roles in the family - analysis

Psychoanalyzing characters is a common fun past time in fandom and recently I stumbled on a take how Daemon actually wanted to be Viserys' sister and fulfill the role of the king's wife but it couldn't happen, so he lived it out through marrying Rhaenyra.

I vehemently disagree with this interpretation. The relationship between Viserys and Daemon is complicated, but I don't think it's in that way. There's no indication Daemon wants to be a woman. Desire to be respected, trusted, loved and needed by his family, to serve his monarch isn't exclusive to one gender. Daemon's desired role in the family isn't that of his brother's wife. If that was the case he'd be jealous of Aemma and Alicent, not Otto.

First, let's look at the obvious, the basics of the brothers' family situation. Do they look like they were raised normally? Daemon definitely doesn't act like a well-adjusted individual by their society's standards. We need to look for the reasons for his rogue-like behavior.

His mother, Alyssa died, when Daemon was 3 years old and Viserys was 7 years old. A lot of people assume that their father, Baelon, picked up a slack caused by his wife's death and dedicated himself to raising his sons. It's widely assumed that Daemon's loyalty to Viserys is something he was taught by Baelon. However, there's no evidence to support this assumption and plenty suggesting otherwise.

Fire and Blood explains that Baelon was hit so hard by his wife's death that he never remarried. He refused his younger sister's seduction attempt despite being known as a 'lusty lad'. His reaction to his brother's death was also extreme. He burned thousands of men and even after coming back hours or maybe days later (we don't know how much time it took, but it wasn't a short flight from Tarth back to Kings Landing) he still was so emotional and openly grieving that he publicly cried in his mother's arms.

Losing the love of his life must have affected him even more deeply than losing his brother. Am I supposed to believe this perpetually mourning widower had the faculties to pay close attention to his 2 young sons and their needs? Especially after he became heir and Prince of Dragonstone, taking on all these new duties that undoubtedly took up most of his time?

It's pretty telling that Fire and Blood DOESN'T say anything about Baelon's relationship with his sons despite the fact he is the father of a king and the famous Rogue Prince who both continued the dynasty. There's no mention of them doing anything with their father, nothing about any father-son bonding activities. Even when Daemon received Dark Sister, it was from king Jaehaerys, not Baelon, the previous wielder of the sword. Baelon's relevancy ends with his death which allows Otto to become the Hand and leads to the Great Council in Harrenhal. When Baelon dies, the one who is sitting with him and holding his hand isn't one of his sons, but Jaehaerys, who also lights his funeral pyre. Baelon is never mentioned again in the context of his sons and how he possibly affected them. What's more, both Viserys and Daemon never talk about him in both the book and the show. It's like for them, Baelon might not have existed. They're beings separate from him. Viserys' overdependence on Otto as his Hand can be seen as another sign that Baelon didn't spend much time with his son to teach him about being the king.

All of the above points to one conclusion - Baelon had a minimal role in the raising of his sons. It doesn't mean that they lacked filial piety as both brothers honored their father by naming a child after him (Baelon and Baela), however it seems likely that Baelon was an absent father. Alyssa's death effectively orphaned both sons, taking their father away as well in a functional sense.

In such circumstances it seems natural that Viserys as the older brother became Daemon's parental figure. With Baelon lost in his grief and later occupied with his duties as the heir, the boys only had each other as the closest family. Their extended family lacked any adults willing and capable of properly looking after them. As the result, Viserys was the one raising Daemon.

Viserys being Daemon's father figure explains a lot about them. Daemon being his heir affirms this relationship. He doesn't want to be replaced in Viserys' heart by actual sons but Rhaenyra as a daughter isn't a threat to him in that sense. Viserys on the other hand treats Daemon more like a child than a brother (sending him away to Runestone as a punishment for misbehavior - like a parent sending a misbehaving child to stand in the quiet corner of the room). He doesn't think of Daemon as an equal or someone he can rely on for help. Why? Because from the beginning Viserys was taking care of Daemon, was responsible for him. Daemon's refusal to cut the umbilical cord and start his own family with Rhea Royce, instead choosing to stay dependant on his brother, must have been perplexing to Viserys, because he raised Daemon, but he doesn't actually regard him as his son. And this is the root cause of their conflict with each other - Daemon feels like Viserys is his parent and wants to be treated accordingly as a son, but Viserys sees him only as an irresponsible little brother that he always has to clean up after.

What's more, Viserys wants Daemon to act as an ideal brother to him - be responsible, dutiful, supportive and obedient, but Daemon refusing to do his duties as expected of him makes him unreliable in Viserys' eyes and unfit to be his heir. Which means that Daemon rejecting Rhea and clinging to the title of heir because he wants to fill the role of Viserys' son has the opposite effect - his actions prove that he can't be the heir/brother that Viserys desires (compare with Rhaenyra who complies with the arranged marriage to Laenor which she didn't want and does her duty to birth heirs to the best of her abilities, which satisfies Viserys' requirements for his heir).

Daemon pursues the role of Viserys' son and in this context his marriage to Rhaenyra makes perfect sense. By being Viserys' daughter, she's metaphorically Daemon's sister that he should marry as the 'son' according to the tradition of House Targaryen. She's the heir directly descended from Viserys that Daemon can't be and Daemon is the son she can't be. Thanks to marrying Rhaenyra Daemon becomes Viserys' son in law, the closest he can get to making his role as the 'son' official.

What's more, as the result of his complicated relationship with Viserys, Daemon strived to do better as a father to sons that weren't of his blood. He accepted Rhaenyra's Velaryon sons and raised them as his own, upholding their claim to the throne over his biological sons. He betrothed his daughters to Jace and Luke, who were only their cousins, not Aegon III and Viserys II, their full-blooded brothers. Baela and Rhaena were only 4 years older than Aegon, so the age gap wasn't a big issue. Though it seems Daemon and Rhaenyra planned to have more children to provide sisterwives to their sons (Visenya's conception would suggest that).

The betrothal wasn't just political. It showed that Daemon fully accepted Jace and Luke as his sons by giving them his daughters' hands in marriage - which is something that Viserys refused to do for Daemon. Jace's actions during the war suggest that he was taught by Daemon about politics and strategy. Daemon's reaction to Lucerys' death is to arrange a terrible vengeance on the Greens. Also, the third son, Joffrey, resembles Daemon the most from the Velaryon boys - a spare son who lost one parent at the age of 3 (just like Daemon who might have seen himself in the boy), he wanted to be a knight and prove himself in battle, loved dragons and tried to save them, swore a terrible oath of vengeance for Luke's death, was even sent to the Vale for a time (to Gulltown) and was entered into a political betrothal (with a Manderly girl). All of the above proves that Daemon spent time with all three Velaryon boys, fulfilling the duties of their father and becoming their role model (in the TV show it's only expressed through Jace who is constantly asking after Daemon and emulating him in his dress and bearing).

Viserys as a father is another topic worth looking into in the context of his youth. The first thing that comes to mind about him is that he was a great dad to his daughters, Rhaenyra and Helaena. He made Rhaenyra his heir and always defended her claim and her sons, only once threatening to take the position away from her when she opposed doing the heir's duty by marrying Laenor. Helaena had a custom of visiting Viserys with her children in the evenings for bedtime stories, which proves she had a close relationship with her father (there is only one example of her visiting, before Viserys' death, but she did the same with Alicent, so it had to be a routine for her to bring the children to their grandparents).

On the other hand, Viserys isn't much of a father to his sons. He was raising Daemon while being a child himself and the effects were mixed and rather unsatisfactory to Viserys. Daemon was Viserys' first practice at being a father to a boy. Later, with his actual sons - Aegon II, Aemond and Daeron - Viserys seems absent, neglectful and disinterested in raising them or even interacting with them. It couldn't be just because of his illness, which in the books only got bad in the last few months of his life. Viserys had time for Helaena, but his sons act fatherless and Daeron is even sent away to be raised by his mother's family.

Why is Viserys good with raising girls but not boys? I think once again we need to look at his early years to find the cause. It's very likely Viserys treated his sons similarly to how his own father, Baelon, treated him. Just like there's no mention of Baelon doing any bonding with his sons, the same is true of Viserys. Viserys once made a jibe that Aemond could claim a dragon on Dragonstone "if the lad is bold enough" which stung Aemond and pushed him to claim Vhagar. It's possible similar circumstances led to Viserys claiming Balerion in his youth and so the history (or rather just story) made a full circle.

However, the first girl Viserys raised wasn't Rhaenyra. It was Aemma. Viserys married Aemma when he was 18 and she was 11. It means that a preteen girl, still a child, was put under his care. Aemma was separated from her family and father in Eyrie and became Viserys' sole responsibility as his wife. In addition, it's not stated if this separation occurred at the time of marriage or even earlier. If they had a formal betrothal first, she could have been placed under Viserys' influence at an even younger age. In any case, it's undeniable that logically, for the lack of other capable candidates to fulfill the father's role in Aemma's life, Viserys had to be the one who did it and raised Aemma through her teenage years. His positive relationship with Aemma then influenced his ability and interest in being a father to his real daughters.

As the last point in this longish commentary, it's pretty interesting that it's not just Daemon who uses the son in law route to become a son to his chosen father figure. Doesn't Viserys do the same when he decides to marry Alicent? He then becomes Otto's son in law. Young Viserys' need for guidance of his Hand in his early years as the king makes it possible that he saw Otto as a father figure that he sorely lacked. Even after dismissing him for the insistence to change the succession, Viserys forgave Otto and brought him back, then trusted him to run the kingdom as Viserys' health deteriorated. Maybe I am reading too much into this relationship or maybe it was just very one-sided on Viserys' side. I don't see the same affection for Viserys in Otto who left Viserys' corpse to rot and betrayed his will with the usurpation. It seems Otto simply manipulated Viserys from the start for his own gain, to stay in power.

It looks like Daemon after being rejected by Viserys also sought a replacement father figure and gravitated towards Corlys, eventually becoming his son in law by marrying Laena. Anyway, it's an interesting mechanism for men to marry in order to become sons in law to their father figures. Or Daemon betrothing Jace and Luke to his daughters to make them his sons in law.

Thanks for reading, I hope this was interesting and clear enough. This was a pretty spur of the moment analysis. Next time I plan a topic related to TWOIAF :)

#fire and blood #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #baelon targaryen #my meta #aemma arryn #baelon the brave #asoiaf meta

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moodymisty · 1 year ago

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mkay so I have 2 Warhammer ideas? requests? sticking in my head that I can't decide on one so I'll throw both out there and you can pick one (or neither since I already threw a request at ya lol) to chew on. also a lot of my lore knowledge comes from the wiki and lore vids so sorry if I get things wrong.

first, if I'm remembering right you've said that the blood angels get a smidge yandere over Sanguinius' partner. so I'm thinking, how the hell would they act towards them after ol Sangy gets murderized by Horus? what about the black rage? would they recognize them? maybe her being present around a raging blood angel somehow makes them even more feral, desperate to protect them from "Horus". or maybe it helps mellow them out, can't decide which I like better lol. also what if she's pregnant or has had Sanguinius' kid? idk just poor grieving widow surrounded by these also grieving giants who mean well but are kinda unhinged lol.

OR maybe some thoughts/ headcanons for your blorbo Sevatar lol. I don't know much about atm but reading the little thing you made of him made me think he's like one of those boys who picks on the girl he likes but heaven forbid someone else tries to pick on them.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: I know you said do one, but I'ma do both. Keep an eye out for the Sevatar one soon. I'm not going to pass up a chance to write about not only my crazy husband Sevatar, but also my yandere vamp boys. I really like both ideas of Sangy's lover either mellowing them out or making it worse. I chose that it's made worse in this snippet however. There's other yandere tendencies I could get into, but I decided to primarily do black rage stuff here. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Guilliman visits the lover of Sanguinius for the first time since the Heresy reached it's murderous apex.

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader (no pronouns just the title 'legion mother')

Warnings: Major Character Death technically, Sanguinius haunts the plot because that's what he do, Increasingly yandere Blood Angels

Word Count: 1116

It will have been the first time since the Siege that Guilliman has laid eyes on the Legion Mother of the Blood Angels.

He boarded the Red Tear with a small gathering of Ultramarines, though when he reaches the entrance of the room he's due to meet you in, he turns to his lieutenant and speaks.

"Stay out here."

The Lieutenant instantly begins to put up resistance, standing up even more rigid than he already had. His helmet is off, hanging on is belt and showing slight disbelief on his face.

"But My Lord, I-" Guilliman cuts him off.

"I am not going to bring a small army of Astartes to speak to a widow in mourning." He takes a breath and calms himself. "If I have need of you, you will know."

The marine quiets, and then the Primarch enters the room. The door closes right behind him, and two Blood Angels part for him; They had clearly been guarding the interior of the entrance. In the middle of the large room is you- in front of a massive table of maps and parchments, separating you and him.

"This is a surprise, Primarch Guilliman." You look up at him from across the room as he steps closer. This room was designed with Astartes and Primarchs in mind, so his height fits quite comfortably.

"Do you have need of the Blood Angels?"

You speak proper and polite, but not cold; It's a behavior that reminds him of Sanguinius, and for a moment he wonders if the Primarch had ever prepared you had you needed to ever command his legion.

Guilliman notices a well armored captain at your immediate left, and a few other Blood Angels standing guard in the room. More than he would've put in a room this size, though he thinks that perhaps it hadn't been your idea, judging by the captain's face. He looks across at you.

You look terribly, horribly lost. A young woman with her lover dead, thrust into a leading mantel of a legion in mourning. Belarius is serving as the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels now, but even he still looks to you as if you're an extension of Sanguinius. Something more.

He doesn't envy your position. For once he might see himself almost more fortunate than you; As despite circumstances, he has the genes of his creation assisting him, you do not; You were not make for the role cast upon you.

The Blood Angels standing guard are tense- unbelievably so. Guilliman suspects if he made even a somewhat fast movement, they'd have their bolters all pointed his way.

The weight of Sanguinius' death has weighed heavy on you all. All of you live in mourning. That drive in them now channels fully to making sure their Primarch's beloved stays alive.

"I wished to give you my condolences before you return to Baal."

You smile at him, weak, before it fades a bit as you loose yourself in thought. Then, you turn to your men.

"Leave us alone for a moment, if you will." The captain at your side speaks up. You shush him before he has a chance to say much of anything on the matter, and Guilliman suspects that this isn't the first time. You've clearly been growing frustrated at their obsessiveness already; You wish to mourn in peace, but this is how the Blood Angels have decided to.

"It will only be for a moment. I am sure nothing will happen in the ten minutes I would like to have a conversation without eight other pairs of ears listening." He can hear the strain of irritation and sleep deprivation in your voice. He moves to take his final strides closer and come fully up to the table that stands between you.

One step away however, he stops.

In the corner of Guilliman's eye, he notices in the back of the room that one Blood Angel turns rigid. With how tense his neck and jaw is it's like he's gritting his teeth into dust. He makes a move closer, his hand slipping down the barrel of his bolter towards the trigger-

Guilliman can't see a thing but rage in his eyes.

His own hand twitches in preparation, but the marine's partner in guard roughly grabs his pauldron. He whispers something the Primarch can't hear. As they all move to leave, it almost looks like he's dragging him out. Guilliman notices you watching the scene with a particular look on your face. Like you've seen it before, and you're unsurprised but displeased to see it again.

When they're all out of the room, his posture relaxes ever so slightly. As much as it can in his armor, at least.

"Thank you for visiting, Guilliman, but it wasn't needed. I'm sure you have many other duties to attend to." You smile, but it's forced. He's familiar with the gesture.

"The Ultramarines are always occupied. However I still wish you a safe journey." The smile on your face becomes a bit more sincere.

"Thank you. And I'll be sure to think of the Ultramarines have I any need of assistance." Guilliman has had nothing but respect for the Blood Angels, and a request of yours would be one he would consider.

"Very well. Do take care of yourself."

Guilliman wants to say something about Sanguinius, but he can't bring himself to. instead he gives you a nod, and turns away to leave. He does so silent other than the sound of his footfall, and you're left alone in the room. But only for a moment. Your captain that was here previously enters not long after he leaves, standing in front of you. Rubbing your tired eyes, you look up at him.

"How is he?"

You say in reference to the Blood Angel who'd snarled and almost attacked Guilliman moments ago. The captain shakes his head.

"Not well. He is just barely holding onto his sanity. He'll be in Death Company post haste." You sigh.

"Did any of the Ultramarines see?" Much to your relief, the captain once again shakes his head.

"No. We barely got him out of earshot before he started yelling about saving Primarch Sanguinius and you from the Arch Traitor."

Arch Traitor. How quickly everyone has begun refusing to even utter Horus' name.

You nod to the captain in thanks for his quick reactions in the matter, your face tired. Sleep has been a rarity; You feel sick, and mourning isn't an emotion that welcomes rest.

And no one can know about the Rage, or the Thirst. You suppose that's your duty now. You just hope you can hide it as well as Sanguinius had.

#sanguinus x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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venusbyline · 25 days ago

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𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑵𝒀𝑹𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ☙

❥ about me • main masterlist • HOTD masterlist

This masterlist will contain works about Rhaenyra x female!reader, Rhaenyra x female!OCs and some specific ships.

: ̗̀➛ REQUESTS: closed.

❥ PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! All possible triggers are always tagged.

❥ Many fics contain dark content/dead dove: do not eat, including dubcon or non-con. I write about Targcest too.

❥ I DO NOT TOLERATE ANY LACK OF RESPECT AND ANON HARASSMENT. Spam and invasive asks about my dead dove fics will be blocked.

❥ I DO NOT ROMANTICIZE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE! This is just fiction.

❥ ONESHOTS reader inserts

Rumors (smut)

queen!Rhaenyra x daughter-in-law!reader x king consort!Daemon

— summary: If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather.

Sickly (smut, angst)

queen!Rhaenyra x daughter-in-law!reader

— summary: Motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.

❥ ONESHOTS Rhaenyra & Daemon

Rumors (smut)

queen!Rhaenyra x daughter-in-law!reader x king consort!Daemon

— summary: If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather.

❥ HEADCANONS reader inserts

5 HOTD characters most likely to enjoy period sex

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dummyminded · 17 days ago

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ITS OKAY SWEETIE YOU DON'T HAVE TO SHOVE THOSE FEELINGS AWAY ESPECIALLY NOT FOR A STUPID PSA 😭

#lokius #my heart cant take it #they're in love your honor #tva comic #tva comic spoilers #tva comic preview #HE WOULD RATHER LITERALLY GO TO HELL #THAN DO A PSA SAYING HOW GOOD THE TVA IS #HIS LOYALTY TO LOKI KNOWS NO END #ALSO THIS PROVES THAT MOBIUS WAS TALKING ABOUT THEM #WHEN HE SAID #“That's not my life anymore THIS is”#HE WAS TALKING ABOUT LOKI #Mobius is in his mourning widow era #I CANT BELIEVE I CALLED IT #HE MISSES LOKI SO MUCH #lokius are soulmates #BECAUSE THIS IS PEAK SOULMATE BEHAVIOR

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tumbleweed-palmer · 1 year ago

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Fic request! Reader x Palmer. Reader is relatively sexually inexperienced compared to Jimmy, who has been married and has a daughter. Reader's first and only experience was awful, and it's been years since that experience. Jimmy and Reader work together? xx

Overcoming Fear: Jimmy Palmer X Reader

smut obviously very filthy smut at that, tw: mentions of sexual assault, anxiety, loss of spouse.

There was no real guideline for dating as a widower. Jimmy had learned this lesson quickly. Sure, there were probably dozens upon dozens of books written about the subject of mourning and some of these books were focused on the demographic of widows and widowers, but there was no surefire guide to what dating could and should be after loss.

To be honest, Jimmy hadn’t imagined he’d find love again, not after the loss he’d endured. Loving another person in that way again had just felt so wrong. He’d told himself that his heart was incapable of such a thing. He’d felt that it would be betrayal of the vows he’d made to his late wife. He’d convinced himself that he’d only been lucky enough to have one great love in his life, and he should consider himself lucky to have loved at all. He told himself that he’d lost his great love and that was the end of the story for him.

He’d thrown all his focus on his work and his daughter at times neglecting his own wellbeing until he’d been convinced to start therapy.

Therapy had helped a little of course. It had at least given him a safe space to express his grief.

Still though the concept of giving love another shot had seemed so impossible and had filled him with such shame.

When Y/N had entered his life he’d felt an immense sense of guilt. She’d been hired on as Kasie’s much needed assistant in the lab and she’d managed to fit in well.

She was a great girl; sweet, intelligent, a diligent worker, funny, professional without being an absolute stick in the mud, and something that Jimmy had noticed rather quickly; beautiful.

Jimmy hadn’t been prepared for Y/N. The very first impression he’d had of her was that she was an attractive woman…the impression had left him filled with an overwhelming sense of shame. He’d mentally reprimanded himself, constantly questioning how he could have the audacity to find any woman other than his late wife attractive?

He couldn’t stop himself from making the observation. He found her stunning and he hated himself for it.

He’d made his best attempt to avoid Y/N, as rude as it had felt. He’d of course not been cruel, he’d just done all he could to remain distant. He’d kept her at an arms length ignoring the exchanged looks of worry from his coworkers. He’d brushed off concerns about his unusually standoffish behavior.

He’d been polite to Y/N but he’d never allowed her the same closeness he gave his other colleagues.

An offhand remark by Y/N during a case had changed that distance.

The case had been complicated; a dead petty officer who had possible ties to a terrorist group. The dead woman on Jimmy’s autopsy table seemed to be haunted by personal demons which may have contributed to her death. The biggest issue was the woman’s actions prior to her death. It had become obvious as the case had proceeded that the deceased woman laying out Jimmy’s table had secrets that might have a detrimental deadly impact on the living.

The case had called for a psychological autopsy of sorts. All hands on deck had been called in. Even Dr. Mallard had assisted via video conference.

Kasie and Y/N had assisted Jimmy and Dr. Mallard shuffling through the dead petty officer’s past and any clues she might have left behind that could help stop a possible terror attack on a navy shipyard.

The dead petty officer had experienced an immense amount of loss in her life including a mother who had died quite suddenly when she was a child.

Y/N had made one little comment upon this discovery. “I lost my mother when I was seven…right before my eighth birthday…it’s a rough age to lose your mom…especially for a girl…not that it excuses anything Officer Meyer did…I’m just saying, I can see how that might have impacted her childhood. Loss is hard enough on its own, being a kid makes it worse.”

The comment had caught Jimmy’s attention. His only thoughts had been of his own daughter. Victoria had only been seven when Breena had passed so suddenly. Jimmy couldn’t lie, Victoria had been struggling.

Victoria tried to put on a brave face for Jimmy and in turn Jimmy had done his best to put on a brave face for her. It felt as though they were both going through the motions though neither sure how to address the loss in their lives.

He’d tried to address it of course. He’d done everything his therapist had suggested to address the loss with his daughter. He knew deep down the biggest issue of course was that he’d put his focus on Victoria’s feelings not being open about his own with her.

It had resulted in an unspoken sadness between them that neither had the words to express.

Jimmy couldn’t help himself, once the case had wrapped up he’d gone to Kasie’s lab, found Y/N and promptly spilled his guts and his trauma onto her.

He’d apologized of course, but Y/N had been nothing but reassuring and kind.

She’d offered an ear to listen, an insight from her own experience of losing her mother, and a needed friendship and confidant.

Y/N and he had become surprisingly close. Jimmy hadn’t been expecting for Y/N to grow close to him but to his daughter as well.

Y/N’s niece had come to visit for a month during the summer. This niece was close to Victoria’s age and a playdate of sorts had been set up for the two girls.

Jimmy had thought it might be good for Victoria, having someone close to her age to spend time with. He’d thought it might be a way to experience some normalcy for Victoria.

Neither Jimmy nor Y/N had been expecting for Victoria to bond with Y/N. It had seemed as though the girl had taken to Jimmy’s coworker turned friend.

He guessed it made sense. Y/N was all the things a little girl might like; soft, gentle, and lovely. She wore pretty dresses and painted her nails with glitter polish. She wore sweet smelling perfume. She was feminine and cute and his daughter had been enamored.

After Y/N’s niece had gone home, the invitations for Y/N to spend time with both Jimmy and Victoria had continued. Victoria was often the one requesting that Y/N join Jimmy and her for pizza or a movie or a board game night.

Jimmy had told himself it was a positive thing; Victoria having another adult in her life to open up to.

Y/N and she shared a bond of sorts he’d told himself; both losing their mothers at the same age. He’d told himself that Y/N might understand Victoria in a way he sadly could not.

Jimmy had been appreciative of Y/N’s willingness to accept Victoria’s requests for time spent together. He’d realized it was a good thing for his daughter; having a female in her life she could look up to outside of his mom. She could use a good role model, he’d realized. There were just some things Jimmy knew Victoria might not feel entirely comfortable going to Jimmy for even outside of her feelings regarding her late mother. Jimmy knew Eunice Palmer wasn’t getting any younger and Jimmy figured that his daughter appreciated having a woman much younger and more with the times to turn to as she grew older and encountered difficulties in peer relationships and fitting in with her peers.

Y/N didn’t seem to mind time spent with the Palmers. She seemed just as appreciative as Jimmy was for the closeness.

She’d admitted it was nice to do something social given her life seemed to revolve around her work and she had a tendency to be a homebody as it was.

With all this time spent together Jimmy’s and Y/N’s bond had grown far beyond just being a confidant for Jimmy and a positive role model for his daughter.

He’d felt a certain sense of attachment to her. She’d become someone he wanted to go to when he had good news. She’d become someone he missed when she wasn’t around.

He’d told himself that she was just a good friend. She was someone who he felt he could turn to. She was someone he trusted. They were just dear friends and nothing more.

Jimmy could distinctly remember the sentence that had changed everything. “I have to do a rain check on game night this Saturday. I have a date.”

The words from Y/N’s lips had felt like a punch to the gut.

He’d tried to tell himself even as he broke the bad news to Victoria that he was just worried that with a possible boyfriend Y/N might begin to dramatically change the dynamic she’d built with Jimmy and Victoria.

After all, he couldn’t possibly expect Y/N to spend so much time with Victoria and he if she had a romantic relationship to focus on. Would a boyfriend be willing to go along with Y/N’s place in the Palmer’s life?

He’d told himself that the gross feeling in his gut and the twist in his heart was just over worries that Victoria might take Y/N having her attention focused elsewhere badly. He’d told himself it was his own fault, letting Victoria cling to Y/N knowing that there was a chance that Y/N would move along with her own life and develop bonds outside of Victoria and Jimmy. He should have realized it wasn’t fair to expect Y/N’s life to revolve around his family.

He had told himself he’d been selfish; clinging to Y/N so hard. He’d told himself he’d turned her into an emotional support security blanket of sorts. He’d leaned too hard on her without considering she might not always be there.

When Jimmy had broken the bad news to Victoria over a family dinner with his mother, he’d not expected Eunice Palmer to make him wake up and see the true reality of it all.

He could still remember that conversation as he stood at his mother’s side after dinner doing dishes after Victoria had gone upstairs to finish her homework.

The words his mother had said had taken him by shock “You know you’re allowed to love her, honey.”

He’d played dumb of course. “What do you mean?”

Eunice Palmer had given him an all too knowing look as she’d explained herself. “Y/N.”

He’d shifted in place awkwardly, suddenly finding the pattern along the rim of the serving dish he was holding something deserving of his focus. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not like that mom. Y/N is just a friend. She’s just gotten close with Victoria and me…she’s really been there for us both. I’m just worried about Victoria. She’s become attached to Y/N and I let it happen. I didn’t consider that it can’t always be like this. Y/N has been way too kind. I know she understands Victoria because she’s been in Victoria’s shoes…losing a mom and all. I know it’s not fair to expect Y/N to not have a life outside of my family. Y/N dating some guy is probably going to change things and I should accept that and find a way to explain it to Victoria. I can’t imagine the guy is going to be fine with his girlfriend spending so much time with her coworker and his kid. I’m just worried how Victoria is going to take the change. I know Y/N can’t always be there for Victoria and me for the rest of her life. She needs her own life outside of us. I know this is a good change, it’s just going to be an adjustment for Victoria.”

“That’s not the entire story of what’s bothering you though. I’m not blind James.” Eunice replied, making Jimmy’s stomach churn.

She spoke again before Jimmy had a chance to deny it. “Victoria isn’t the only one who’s become attached.”

“I have leaned on Y/N a lot. I’ve probably clung too hard to be honest. She’s way too kind to tell me I’ve been so needy…I am perfectly fine with her finding someone. She’s probably missed out on a lot of dates with great guys spending all her free time with my family. It’s..it’s for the best. She deserves it. She can’t spend her entire life being my emotional support. It’s not healthy for either one of us. She’s been a good friend, and she should find love.” Jimmy had insisted he turning the serving dish in his hands pretending he was inspecting it to make sure it was completely clean.

His mother was fast to speak up, that knowing tone still evident in her voice. “There’s more than friendship there James, even a close friendship. I know you deny it, but I know better. I know you.”

Jimmy cleared his throat averting his eyes from his mother’s gaze, the words stubborn on his lips. “It’s not like that at all. I don’t…I don’t love her, not like that. I love her as a friend, nothing more. I can’t be in love with her.”

Eunice dried her soapy hands placing them on her son’s upper arms giving him a reassuring squeeze. “That isn’t true. You can be in love with her. It’s not wrong and you shouldn’t let yourself feel guilty for it.”

“I do though. I feel so conflicted. I catch myself feeling so happy when she’s around. Then I find myself missing and longing for her when she’s not here. She’s always on my mind or at least on the back of my mind. Anytime something positive happens I want to tell her first. When I’ve had an awful day I want to hear her voice. I’m even happy to sit in complete silence with her just because it’s her. Then I feel guilty because there’s only one woman I should long for and she’s no longer here. I made vows and I feel like I’m breaking them. I know Breena and I said until death do us part. I don’t wear my ring anymore…I know…I know those vows ended at death ... ..rationally I know I’m a human being and I’m capable of love even after loss, but I feel so conflicted about feeling love for someone else when I thought I’d found the love of my life. It feels like I’m doing something wrong.” Jimmy admitted the words tumbling out of him, forcing his gaze to meet his mother’s.

Eunice held him against her, she fast to respond. “That’s the beautiful thing about hearts honey, they are capable of endless love. Loving Y/N doesn’t mean you loved Breena any less. Love isn’t a competition. Love isn’t that selfish that it can only go to one person and end forever when that person is no longer here. I’d like to believe that we can have more than one great love in our lives. I don’t think that any higher power is cruel enough to make our hearts so they can only love one person and one person only. Love is endless. It doesn’t go away when someone is gone and it doesn’t fail to exist when someone enters your life”.

She pulled back from Jimmy speaking again repeating the statement that had begun this entire conversation. “You are allowed to love Y/N. The heart wants what it wants…and I see the way she looks at you when she thinks you aren’t looking. I think she’s just as afraid as you are. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just as torn up about how she feels as you are about how you feel.”

She spoke again giving his arms a reassuring squeeze. “You need to ask yourself a serious question, sweetheart. You have to make a big choice. Do you admit how you feel and take a chance even if it’s scary and intimidating or do you let Y/N go and accept that things are going to change? The choice is yours, but whatever you do don’t let yourself make a choice out of shame or fear. You have to ask your heart what it wants and let it have it.”

The words had left Jimmy’s lips as he made his choice, his heart finally telling his shame to shove it. “I…can you watch Victoria. I have to go…I need to go. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

It was a huge cliche really. It had been pouring rain that night as he’d made his way to Y/N’s apartment and he’d managed to become a soaked mess by the time he’d made it to her front door.

The words had left him and everything had changed. “Please don’t go on that date. I am begging you to cancel it. Please, I should be the only one taking you on any dates. I love you. It scares the hell out of me…loving someone again, but I’d rather be afraid than deny how I feel.”

His confession of love hadn’t been smooth at all, but much to his shock and relief Y/N had stared up at him with tears in her eyes as she’d spoken “I love you too.”

His lips had met hers for the first time with that confession and they’d not looked back.

They’d had a serious talk that night after the kiss of course and there had been several serious talks after that night.

Figuring out the change in their relationship had been anxiety inducing at best. They’d been afraid Victoria might not take the change of Y/N being Daddy’s friend to Daddy’s girlfriend well, but much to their relief she’d been agreeable to the change.

Jimmy knew Y/N had played a big part in making Victoria comfortable with the change. She’d worked hard to reassure the girl that her place in their lives wasn’t an attempt to replace Victoria’s mother. She’d reassured Victoria that just because Breena was gone that didn’t mean the love she’d felt for Victoria went away. Jimmy had reassured his daughter that his loving Y/N didn’t devalue or erase the love he’d felt for Breena. Moving forward didn’t mean you erased the past.

Y/N had encouraged Jimmy to be open with Victoria about her mother. She’d encouraged him to have those talks and reminded him it was okay for Victoria to see him cry. When he’d been ready to begin packing away Breena’s things for Victoria, Y/N had helped him find ways to store the items and to involve Victoria in the process.

Y/N had been a supportive reassuring partner as Jimmy navigated moving forward.

She’d proven to be just as supportive to Victoria. They’d become even closer to the point that Victoria had spent some of her allowance buying one of those BFF heart necklaces for Y/N and she.

Y/N was the one who was happy to tackle whatever complicated hair tutorial Victoria had found on Youtube. She was the one who took Victoria to get manicures and eat brunch. They often had girl days.

Seeing Y/N with his daughter had just made Jimmy love her all the more.

It hadn’t been easy navigating love as a widower, but Jimmy had found that Y/N was patient and soothing. She wasn’t afraid to push him when he needed to move past his comfort zone or to hold his hand when he needed to be grounded and brought back down to a sense of comfort. He’d realized his mother was right; love was not selfish at all.

Love still felt terrifying of course, as beautiful and warm as it was. He still felt anxious about it all. It was still intimidating at times.

Tonight felt particularly intimidating.

When Kasie had won a trip to Vegas Jimmy and Y/N had no qualms about accepting the invitation to come along, after they’d found a reliable babysitter for Victoria of course.

Of course the trip was given to Kasie with the promise that she’d spend plenty of time in the casino. Kasie as it turns out was a high roller in Vegas and the casino hotel they were staying at wanted her to gamble.

The hotel room Jimmy and Y/N had wound up with was far less lavish than Kasie’s but Kasie’s had been given to her with the promise of casino time and Jimmy’s and Y/N’s room had come out of their own budget.

Jimmy and Y/N weren’t gamblers. So, that meant they’d been left to their own devices while Kasie spent time at the blackjack table.

So far they’d done a lot of sightseeing and eating. They’d even drank a little and played a couple of slot machines. Jimmy and Y/N had just been enjoying some one on one time together free of distractions that were involved in their everyday lives.

They’d been enjoying a grown-up vacation.

There was a certain sense of anxiety hanging in the air though over what they’d decided was going to happen on this grown-up vacation.

Jimmy knew they’d been working their way up to this but that didn’t make it any less intimidating.

As they rode the elevator up to their hotel room he was almost certain his heart was beating so loud that it had become audible.

When his beautiful sweet girlfriend had confessed her limited sexual experience to Jimmy he’d been dumbfounded.

That sense of shock had morphed into anger when she’d described her one and only sexual experience and exactly why it had turned her off of going that far with any guy ever again.

She’d described her first and only experience as being awful. She described an experience that was far too rough with a partner that hadn’t taken her pleasure nor her comfort into consideration at all. Her last sexual partner had been far too aggressive and more concerned with getting himself off than making it feel good for her. He had cared little for her lack of experience or her boundaries. She’d described the entire experience as being overwhelming in the worst way possible and anxiety inducing. She’d described a man who had seemed to manhandle and mistreat her more than make love to her. She’d described unbearable pain during the experience and a sense of feeling violated and empty when it was all said and done.

Jimmy had felt his stomach turn at her descriptions of not being wet enough, bleeding, and her feeling overstimulated and unloved. He’d felt his heart twist when she’d admitted that though it had been years, the concept of sex still scared her.

Jimmy Palmer wasn’t a violent man, but hearing all those details had left him feeling certain that if he was ever left alone in a room with his girlfriend’s former sexual partner then Jimmy would be sure the other man left in a body bag.

Jimmy had done everything in his power to reassure her that he was fine waiting as long as she needed him to before taking their relationship in that direction. He had worked hard to promise her that he was a grown man who was capable of moving at her pace. He had promised her that he was mature enough not to feel disappointed or as though he was missing out on anything if sex was something they waited for. He had done his best to show her other ways they could feel intimate with one another without going with more traditional means in the bedroom.

So, they’d made out a lot, more than a lot. They’d moved at her pace and Jimmy had eagerly taken what she was willing to give him. They’d spent a lot of time kissing, grinding against one another, and giving lingering touches over one another’s clothing. They’d never proceeded further than that though.

When they had decided to take this adult-only vacation Y/N had said the words that had made Jimmy’s heart feel as though it was stopping and racing all at once. “When we’re in Vegas, I was thinking we could go further than we’ve been going…as in all the way. I think I’m ready…I want to at least try.”

Tonight was the night they’d agreed to try and Jimmy was filled with a cocktail of emotions and anxieties.

He prayed his hands weren’t sweating as held her hand in his, allowing her to lead them out of the elevator and to their hotel room.

He tried to focus on his breathing as he fished the key card out of his pocket, his hand shaking as he moved to open the door.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, their faces both flushed pink from more than the dry heat outside. “I’m going to go get ready. I won’t be too long.”

He nodded his head, certain that his heart was racing so quickly it might zoom out of his chest and take off across the room. He managed to speak hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “I’ll get things ready out here. Take your time.”

Jimmy studied the room as Y/N disappeared behind the closed bathroom door. He debated taking the extra step and ordering champagne through room service but he knew they’d had some overwhelmingly sweet fruity cold cocktails hours ago and he knew they were both lightweights. The cocktails had been enough to ease some of the anxiety but Jimmy didn’t want to risk either of them becoming impaired.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his stomach in knots as he moved around the room, straightening up some of the clutter that had accumulated over the past two days they’d spent on this vacation thus far.

He shuffled through the plastic shopping bag they’d acquired earlier, his cheeks flushing as much as they had when the purchase had been made as he fished out the tube of lubricant they’d bought just in case.

He took a deep breath second guessing the choice to not buy condoms. She was on the pill and they’d agreed they were comfortable moving forward with that being their only form of birth control.

The idea of moving forward with that little protection filled Jimmy with an equal sense of excitement and anxiety.

The entire concept of what was due to happen tonight actually filled Jimmy with a mix of lust, excitement, anxiety, and fear.

This was a huge step not only for Y/N but for him as well.

She was trusting him to move past her fear and experience this with him.

It was a huge responsibility. Jimmy could admit he had his own fears about tonight.

This was the first time he’d be intimate with someone new in over a decade. He knew he wasn’t inexperienced but he felt clumsy and daft.

He feared disappointing or underwhelming Y/N. He was terrified of triggering some bad memory or just flat out being a lackluster defective lover. What if he made this experience awful for an entirely different reason than her only past experience?

Being with a new partner was intimidating enough, then add on a bad past experience on her part and his experience being tied to one partner for over a decade and it felt incredibly terrifying and nerve wracking.

Jimmy wasn’t even sure he’d been this anxious his very first time.

He took another deep breath, shakily kicking his shoes and socks off a voice in the back of his head reminding him that there was nothing dorkier and less seductive and being nude except for a pair of socks.

He chose not to strip down completely, deciding to just ditch the cargo shorts he’d bought especially for the desert heat.

He found himself left in boxers and his t-shirt he making his way over to the bed.

He debated getting under the covers but decided to hold off on it, choosing insead to pull back the bedsheets making sure they had easier access.

He made sure the bottle of lube was accessible on the bedside table he dimming the lights by the bed making the room less bright and hopefully making the atmosphere in the room less intimidating.

He sat on the edge of the bed trying to calm his racing heart as he mentally prepared himself for this.

He was silently debating the best way to perhaps prolong his stamina, a voice in the back of his head telling him that it had been so long since he’d done this that he might orgasm far too fast, when the bathroom door opened.

He quickly forgot his game plan to think about his least favorite sport, baseball if he felt himself getting too close to cumming far too soon, when she exited the bathroom.

She felt her cheeks flush debating if the white silky chemise was a little too on the nose. Though she knew she was no virgin the choice in such a pure sweet looking white silk nightgown seemed somewhat cliche in hindsight.

The chemise was low cut enough that it gave a healthy view of cleavage and it was short enough that it made her legs look incredible in her opinion. It fit against the curves of her body nicely and the fabric felt heavenly against her skin. The lingerie had been well worth the price.

Worries that she was a walking cliche disappeared when she caught sight of her boyfriend’s gaze, the man looking up at her like she was by far the most stunning sight he’d ever seen.

He stood up from the bed, his knees feeling wobbly, his heart racing all the quicker.

He made his way towards her his hands held out to her, almost sure he’d trip over his own feet and break both his arms in the process.

He took her hands in his once again praying that he wasn’t sweaty or clammy. He spoke, unable to hide the lust dripping from his voice. “You look perfect.”

She felt the words leave her first instinct to give him one response. “There’s no such thing as perfect.”

“I’m looking at it.” He insisted the words coming to him without any sense of hesitation.

She released one of his hands reaching up to caress the side of his cheek, Jimmy unable to stop himself from leaning into her touch. It was something he’d discovered throughout their relationship; he was touch-starved.

He was just relieved she was so willing to offer soft touches and gentle reassurances.

He leaned down his lips meeting hers, the kiss soft and uncertain almost like the first kiss they’d ever shared.

It didn’t take it long for the kiss to grow in confidence. He released her other hand, his hands finding a place at her sides, a soft moan leaving him at the silken feel of the fabric against her skin.

Her hand moved from his cheek placing at the back of his head, messing his hair as they continued to kiss. Her other hand placed at his side she gripped down onto his t-shirt trying to calm any anxiety swirling in her gut.

She pulled from the kiss the anxiety easily becoming a lingering pest in the back of her brain. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, I’d do anything for you.” He was fast to respond, he was certain of the promise. He would give her anything. He was sure of it. She could ask him to go bungee jumping off the roof of their hotel right now and he was certain he’d agree to do it.

She felt her cheeks flush hoping she didn’t sound so childish for what she was about to request. “During it, can you talk to me? Just keep talking to keep me in the moment? I just…I want to know it’s you…I mean.”

She paused her stomach knotting up. “I know I’ve told you I’ve tried to do this before once after that first time…I tried with one other guy after my first experience but I couldn’t go through with it. I just thought it was easier to swear it off after that. The only other time I tried it with another guy…when I got brave enough to try I…it was easy for me to get in my head and panic and it stopped everything from proceeding. I don’t want to panic. I want to be reminded that I’m doing this with you…I guess I’m just thinking you always know what to say to make me feel safe. I want to feel safe. This should be about expressing love and I know it shouldn’t be scary. I feel so dumb for feeling scared…I’m a grown woman but I just get so in my head. I know I’ve made you wait so long and now I’m making it complicated. I know that it may sound like a stupid request but...”

He felt his heart ache and twist at the request he quick to reassure her not allowing her to devalue her own needs or apologize for taking this at her pace. “I’ll keep you in the moment. I promise, I will do whatever you need. It’s not dumb, nothing you need from me is dumb or something to be sorry for.”

She felt her eyes well up with tears. She spoke feeling pathetic. “Sorry for forcing you to give a pep talk…I’ve probably wrecked the mood.”

“You haven’t. How many times have you given me a pep talk? I recall you talking me down that first time we made out in my bed and I got weird. I’m pretty sure I’ve had to have you talk me through my fair share of misplaced shame and all my other baggage.” He reminded her his lips pressing to her forehead.

He embraced her, giving her a moment to relax, rocking her in place trying to wordlessly make it clear that they were moving at her pace. He didn’t care if it took all night and it was all stop and go. He wanted to make this what she deserved.

Her hand placed back at his cheek gazing down at her she becoming lost in his gaze for a while. She was almost convinced no one had prettier eyes than Jimmy Palmer. She was convinced that no one had kinder eyes either.

His kindness had played a factor into her falling for him.

She felt like the luckiest girl in the world. She had a kind, intelligent, sweet, funny, thoughtful boyfriend. He was an incredible father and a gentle partner.

Falling in love with him had given her a sense of mixed up emotions. Adoration mixed with the guilt of knowing he was only hers because he’d lost such a big part of his heart.

Falling in love with a widower wasn’t without its misplaced guilt. Jimmy had mentioned his own shame but she could admit to hers as well.

She could remember the biggest thing that had broken that shame and made it fade. It had been a talk Jimmy had with Victoria about his relationship with Y/N as he’d tucked her into bed one night. It had been pretty soon after their relationship had become romantic. Y/N had only heard part of the conversation, but the words had still stuck out to her.

“Loving Y/N doesn’t mean you and I didn’t love your mom. Loving Y/N doesn’t mean we love anyone else any less. I’ll always love your mom and I know you’ll always love her too. I loved your mom so much. Your mom is going to always love us even if she’s not here anymore. Love is pretty special because it’s not limited to just going to one person. Love is something that should be shared. You can’t hold on to love too tightly and you can’t refuse to give it to someone. Our hearts are big and they are filled with so much love. You shouldn’t hide any love you feel in your heart. You should always let people know you love them even if it feels scary. Life is so short. Remember how we talked about how everyone dies? Dying isn’t the important part honey. It happens everyday. Love is way more important than death. Everyone may die but love doesn’t die.”

If she’d had any doubts about loving Jimmy Palmer she was almost certain they would have died that night as she’d overheard that conversation.

He was right, love was to be shared even if it was scary.

She pulled back from his embrace just enough to speak the request soft on her lips. “Can we lie down?”

He nodded his head wordlessly, taking her hand in his, leading her to the bed he thankful they’d gone with a larger hotel bed even if it had brought the price of the room up.

They laid down side by side Jimmy taking the opportunity to ditch his glasses on the nightstand before he turned his attention back to her.

His lips met hers, his hand reaching out to caress her side.

He knew that this was not an unfamiliar position lying side by side their lips locked.

She placed a hand at his cheek feeling a little bolder allowing one of her legs to slide over his scooting closer to him.

He moaned at the sudden movement, the chemise riding up exposing more of her leg dangerously close to revealing the lace of her panties.

She pulled her lips from his feeling daring enough to reach for the hem of his t-shirt pulling it up. He took the hint pulling it up and over his head tossing it across the room.

He felt his pride spike at her reaction to his bare torso, her moan soft as she took him in. He knew that he took good care of his core and his abs were always something he could at least feel confident about even if he wasn’t always the most psyched about the rest of his appearance.

She placed a hand at his side caressing his warm skin, his lips pressing back to hers he reaching out to caress her over the chemise.

She reached down, finding a little more confidence placing her hand over his maneuvering it to slide under her nightgown, his large hand pressing to her bare skin.

She spoke her voice a soft plea. “Talk to me please.”

“You’re so soft, the softest.” He blurted out the blood flow moving far enough from his brain to fill other areas of his body that he couldn’t find it in him to worry if he sounded dorky or foolish.

He lips pressed to hers between words. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.” She managed to reply her lips pressing against his he continuing to caress her shyly exploring without pushing too far.

She placed a hand at his back caressing his skin, she moving her lips down his neck nipping at his skin, certain she’d leave a mark behind. She moaned at the thought.

Jimmy groaned at the stimulation, he continued to talk, saying anything that came to his brain. “Your lips feel so nice. I could kiss you forever.”

He continued to caress her, her lips and tongue sliding along his pulse point. He whined the lower region of his body, easily reacting.

She pulled from his neck her lips slightly swollen, the slight hint of lipstick she’d worn earlier smudged.

She placed a hand at his cheek, her eyes locking with his before she spoke. “Tell me you love me.”

He moaned the words falling from his lips without any second thought. “I love you. You have no idea just how much I love you.”

She placed a hand at the hem of her chemise pulling it up, she sitting up enough to pull it up and over her head.

She felt her cheeks flush this being the most exposed she’d been in front of any man in a long while.

Though a voice in the back of Jimmy’s head screeched to be a gentleman and to show some self control his eyes shifted down to her bare breasts an audible moan leaving him.

He spoke more to himself than to her. “Fuck.”

She let out a soft moan, the response surprising. Jimmy Palmer was not the type of guy that threw around curse words by nature. She wasn’t sure if it just came from being a parent, or if he was just naturally that polite.

She relaxed back against the bed, their lips meeting again. Jimmy hesitantly reached out to touch her side, remembering to speak. “You’re so perfect. I love you so much.”

She dared to scoot closer to him, her bare torso pressing to his the sensation making audible gasps and moans leave them both.

She wrapped an arm around him she tracing his skin. Jimmy spoke against the kisses daring to ask. “Can I touch them?”

It took her lust hazy brain a second to clear and realize what he was suggesting but the answer came without doubts. “Yes, please.”

He groaned a large hand pressing over her breast. He caressed her skin before gently massaging her breast. His fingertips slid across her nipple teasing it, the action working a moan from her.

He spoke following through on what he’d promised. “They’re so perfect, so fucking soft and full. Looks so perfect in my hand. Fuck, I’ve touched them over your clothes before, but this is so much better.”

He paused, managing to bring humor into the moment even if his brain was preoccupied with lust. “Just warning you, you’ve probably created a monster. I’m going to touch these any chance you allow it.”

She managed to laugh at the comment the response leaving her. “I’ll allow it as long as we aren’t in public.”

He spoke again knowing he sounded desperate but he refused to take any step without her consent. “Can I kiss them, please, baby?”

“Please.” The reply left her she feeling breathless, her own lust beginning to flood over any other coherent thought.

He locked his lips over her breast suckling her nipple desperately. He moaned against her skin the vibration making her whimper. He spoke against her damp skin his lips and tongue teasing her nipples. “I love you. Thank you.”

She moaned surprised by the reaction her body had to him thanking her. She couldn’t deny that her clit throbbed at the statement as innocent as it seemed.

She placed a hand at the back of his head messing his hair as he continued to focus on her breasts kissing, sucking, and nipping at the delicate skin giving her the distinct feeling that at this rate she was going to have at least one serious hickey pressed to at least one breast.

He spoke between the stimulation his voice muffled more praises and thank yous spilling from him each word making her center clinch. She was certain her panties must be drenched at this point.

She was astounded given that if someone had asked her a few years ago she’d exclaim that she couldn’t comprehend going this far with anyone, but here she was wet and desperate with a man she was crazy about attached to her breast praises spilling from him.

Jimmy moaned against her skin knowing he was so hard he was almost sure he could break glass.

The fear that he might possibly be a disappointing lover seemed to be slipping from his brain the only thing he could focus on was the woman beside him and the moans leaving her. He knew he was babbling against her skin the words needy and full of reverence; beautiful, soft, perfect, sexy, incredible.

She reluctantly scooted from his ministrations, feeling her cheeks flush from more than arousal as she spoke. “Can you take your boxers off?”

He moaned almost sure he’d never moved faster in his life. His movements were so clumsy that he was shocked he didn’t accidentally kick her or fall off the bed.

He managed to somehow lose his boxers kicking them somewhere across the room.

He felt a spark of insecurity begin to blossom in his brain. Maybe he should have manscaped a little better? Was he way too hairy? Would this spook her given that he was fully nude now even if it was at her request?

She dared to gaze down at him her cheeks growing darker any insecurity that had been blossoming in his brain withering up and dying at her words. “Fuck, it’s thicker than I thought.”

He gazed down at his erect cock, he almost certain the sight must look a little ridiculous they both gazing down at his privates examining his dick.

He felt his cheeks flush at the statement the words leaving him. “I’m pretty sure I’m mostly average…I mean I’m pretty sure I’ve read that the average length is around five and a half inches though most guys will argue that they’re at least six.”

“You’ve looked into it? I mean you’ve researched it?” She dared to ask, the amusement somewhat evident in her voice.

Jimmy felt his cheeks flush further. “I have a deep understanding of anatomy due to the nature of my profession…and I had a lot of access to the internet and a lot of freetime in my early twenties.”

She spoke, still unable to tear her eyes away from his cock. “Can I touch it?”

He moaned his cock twitching at the request as though it was answering for him. He nodded his head trying to balance out being needy and reassuring all at once. “Only if you want to. I…I don’t want you to feel you know…like I expect it. I want to move at your pace.”

She tore her eyes from his cock as she pressed a kiss to his lips. She couldn’t hide the adoration from her voice as she spoke. “I want to touch it, trust me. I want this.”

She pulled her lips from his staring back down at his cock. She reached forward gently wrapping a hand around him, a soft gasp leaving her.

He moaned his gaze following hers. He whined as she placed a thumb at his tip rubbing the slit gathering the precum that had begun to bead up. She used it to swipe across the tip of his cock his balls throbbing at the action.

He spoke certain he was supposed to keep up with his promise to talk to her during this entire experience. “Fuck, oh babe. Love you, fuck.”

He groaned knowing it wasn’t the most eloquent thing he could say but it was hard no pun intended when she was currently sliding her thumb along his sensitive tip precum desperately seeping from him.

She spoke her voice soft. “I should probably use some lube before I go any further? Can’t imagine it’ll be any fun dry?”

He desperately reached out, finding the tube of lube he’d left on the nightstand fumbling through opening it as he handed it to her.

She took the lube and her cheeks flushed. She was unsure where she’d found the confidence to be this dominant after all she’d spent so long terrified of all things related to sex. She guessed it was just that it was Jimmy. She trusted him immensely. Exploring this with him and giving sex a chance seemed less intimidating because it was him.

The further they went tonight the less frightened she felt.

She warmed a healthy amount of lube in her hand before wrapping her hand around him. Jimmy moaned at the sensation, his hips moving a little eager to chase the stimulation.

He spoke as she began to stroke him, unable to take her eyes off him, almost fascinated with the concept that she was feeling this confident and making him feel this good. “I love you. Oh my God, babe. That’s so…that’s perfect, just like that.”

He kept his eyes locked on what she was doing to him, almost sure that this was the most erotic thing he’d seen in his life. He couldn’t help but to wish he could save the sight in his brain forever. Her delicate hand wrapped around his slick cock, her nails painted a bright shade of blue, he leaking against her skin making a mess.

He gripped down onto the bed sheets, his gaze unable to leave her treatment of him. He spoke his voice needy. “I love this so much. Fuck that’s so perfect, my love.”

He whimpered his balls aching it taking everything in him to say the words he hating that he had to stop this so soon. “I don’t want to cum like this, not right now. Fuck it’s so tempting. You can make me cum like this later.”

She pulled her hand from him, the giggle that left her making him throb all the more. “I’m going to so do this again before we leave Vegas.”

He moaned as her lips pressed to his. He managed to speak against the kiss. “I feel pathetic for being so close that quick. It’s been so long.”

He felt his cheeks flush all the darker the confession spilling from him. “I mean I’ve jacked off probably a little too much especially lately, but you know someone else touching me is way more intense.”

He resisted the urge to bury his face against the pillow and never emerge knowing he had a case of babbling and shoving his foot in his mouth as it was. Apparently if his dick got any stimulation he became an even bigger social disaster.

She spoke holding her hand up thankfully not calling him out on his confession. “Got a tissue?”

He moved quickly, finding them on the nightstand she cleaning herself.

His lips met hers, the kleenex going somewhere on the floor.

He moaned his cock pressing to the lace of her panties he resisting the urge to grind against her.

She caressed his body, not shy about grasping onto his backside giving it a squeeze, her voice teasing against his lips. “Not going to lie, pretty sure I spent way too much time staring at your butt before we started dating…and probably a lot of time after.”

He moaned against her lips, his voice just as teasing. “Stared at yours too, it’s okay.”

She spoke, deciding to take the next step feeling more and more confident the longer they went. “Jimmy, take my panties off please.”

He groaned, his hands moving sure his movements were clumsy. He spoke as he began to slide them down her hips. “I’ve never heard a prettier request.”

He stared down at her, a moan spilling from him as they worked her panties down her legs they disappearing somewhere towards the foot of the bed.

He kept his hand at her hip unable to work up the nerve to move it as he gazed down at her center.

She spoke uncertain of how to read his gaze. “I thought about doing a full brazilian wax, but there’s something about that just feels I don’t know…too much. So, I just decided to take care of the bikini line and clean up as usual.”

He nodded his head a moan leaving him. “Good choice. To be fair though…pretty sure I’d like it no matter what.”

She couldn't help but to giggle though she had a feeling he was being sincere.

He stared down at her overwhelmed with thoughts of what he wanted. He wanted to bury his face in her pussy. He wanted to bury his cock in it. He wanted to bury his fingers in her. He wanted to cum on her and in her.

He shoved the thoughts back a voice in the back of his head fast to speak up Let her set the pace dumbass.

She spoke a hint of shyness sneaking in now that she was completely bare in front of him. “Can you touch me…and keep talking please.”

He nodded his head eagerly reaching forward, his fingers sliding along her slit. He spoke the moan leaving him. “You’re soft here too. Fuck, my love, you’re wet too. You’re soaked.”

He spoke needing to get the green light from her. “Can I put my fingers in? I want to make you feel good.”

“Please.” The words barely left her before he slid one finger through her slickness allowing another to join along beside it.

He spoke his voice thick with lust. “Oh my god, fuck, you are so wet. You’re tight too and hot.”

She whined as he stroked his fingers experimentally sliding them in and out of her. The sensation wasn’t unfamiliar from when she occasionally touched herself but his fingers were far larger and they went a lot deeper than her own.

She spread her legs encouraging him the action working a praise from him. “So perfect, such a perfect girl, letting me make her feel good.”

He found her clit rubbing soft circles against it causing her to grip down on the bedsheets a moan leaving her.

Jimmy spoke daring to ask. “Can I taste you? I want to go eat you out, only if you’re okay with it. I won’t be upset if you say no.”

She nodded her head no doubts appearing in her mind. “Do it, please Jimmy.”

He moved down her body, his voice reassuring. “I obviously won’t be able to talk to you down here, but if you need me to stop just say the word. I won’t be upset.”

She nodded her head relaxing a whimper leaving her as he removed his fingers from her center he unable to stop himself from cleaning her taste from them. He spoke a moan leaving him. “Love how you taste. I said earlier I wasn’t going to be able to stop touching your breasts, but now I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to keep my mouth off your pussy either.”

She felt her center clinch there something so satisfying about hearing him say something so filthy. Maybe it was just that she knew it was a side of him only she was getting to see.

He spoke his breath warm against her center. “You ready, babe?”

She nodded her head the answer leaving her with no hesitation. “Yes.”

He lapped at her center slowly, delicately taking his time. He encouraged her to place her legs over his shoulders, wanting to be as close to her pussy as possible. He moaned against her those fears he had about being a disappointment in bed fading even further away.

He wasn’t lying. He had a feeling he’d want to spend even more time down here if she’d allow it.

He licked her from her perineum up to her throbbing clit unable to hold back any sounds of pleasure from his own lips. The moans and whines of his name that left her encouraged him to keep it up.

He gazed up at her from between her thighs moaning as he watched her reaction, her head thrown back one of her hands massaging her breast.

He reached up allowing his hand to take its place eagerly massaging her breast toying with her nipple causing her to gasp his name all the more.

She managed to speak her voice soft and sweet. “Oh, God, Jimmy. Feels too good.”

He moaned in response his cock leaking precum against the sheets he hoping he wouldn’t cum from this alone.

He began to focus on her clit remembering her reaction to his fingers moments ago. The action made her thighs quiver a whine leaving her as he gently sucked at the bundle of nerves.

He allowed his fingers to slide into her center sliding in and out of her as his tongue busied itself with her clit.

She gripped onto the back of his head pulling his hair probably a little too hard her voice shaky. “Fuck, Jimmy. I’m gonna…I’m so close.”

He moaned in response her comment encouraging him to continue; she so wet she was dripping down his fingers as he thrusted them in her center.

She cried out her thighs shaking her back arching her end hitting her so quickly and suddenly she almost felt breathless.

Jimmy continued to focus on her clit, his movements a little gentler and slower as he worked her through her orgasm.

As she came down from her orgasm the stimulation became too much she frantically moving out of his touch.

He stared up at her, the adoration clear in his eyes as he once again cleaned her from his fingers.

He pressed his lips to her thighs wanting to check in on her well aware that he still needed to be delicate with her. “How are we doing? You okay?”

She spoke, her voice shaky. “Fuck, Jimmy. So good.”

She took a deep shuddering breath, her body feeling limp and pleasant. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard.”

He felt a sense of pride wash over him, he moved back up her body, pressing soft loving kisses to her skin.

His lips met hers, she gasped at the fact that the lower region of his body was still very much alert and excited.

She whimpered as his cock brushed against her center desire, easily flooding through her even in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm she’d ever had in her life.

She spoke almost sure she’d never been so certain of anything in her entire life. “I want more. Want you in me.”

He groaned, his cock aching at the request. He spoke needing to know she was sure. “Are you sure? You’re ready? I don’t want you to feel pressured. Trust me, babe. I’m having a good time regardless of if we continue or not.”

“I want more, please Jimmy. Make love to me. Want you to bury yourself in me and make me cum again.” She replied not above lying it on thick wanting to express just how badly she needed this to continue.

He groaned at the words, his voice still hesitant. “And you’re sure we don’t need the condoms? I mean...you're 100 percent sure you're okay proceeding without…I know you’re on the pill and we're both clean. You're completely sure about this?.”

He felt his cheeks flush remembering the awkwardness of the first conversation they'd had about birth control. He was pretty sure he’d blurted out that he wouldn’t mind having another kid but he would prefer to wait even if they waited a while and it made him an old dad. He was also pretty sure he mentioned that they should talk to his daughter before they even considered trying for a baby.

He was just relieved that she hadn’t minded his babbling and hadn’t run far far away at the mention of making a baby. She'd given him the gentle reassurance that she was on the pill and had been for a long while. She was fine not bothering with dealing with condoms if he was okay with it. It was a waste of money if she was on the pill she'd pointed out.

She caressed his sides, the neediness clear in her voice. “I'm so sure. I want to feel all of you. Please, Jimmy. I need you.”

He groaned, nodding his head, the question leaving him. “Me on top?”

She nodded her head, the response leaving her. “For the first time. We are definitely trying other positions before we leave Vegas.”

He groaned, nodding his head knowing she’d get no arguments from him on those plans.

He reached down grasping his cock in his hand sliding it along her center trying to coat himself in her knowing the lube they’d used earlier was most likely dry by now.

He spoke needing to ask as he positioned himself at her entrance. “Do we need lube?”

She shook her head a giggle leaving her. “You just ate my pussy like it was your last meal. Pretty sure you know how soaked I am. I don’t think we need the extra moisture.”

He giggled at the comment, his cock twitching at the reminder of what he’d just done to her.

He took a deep breath needing to say it. “If it gets to be too much just say the word. I’ll stop no hurt feelings.”

With that he thrust forward her tight center enveloping his aching cock. He groaned as he buried himself in her slowly to the hilt a cry leaving the both of them as his pelvis pressed to hers.

He spoke knowing that her request to talk wasn’t any less relevant now. “You feel so good. So so so good. Could spend the rest of my life here.”

She giggled at the statement Jimmy groaning as her body shifted against him. She spoke her voice light and airy as she stroked his skin. “You fill me up so good, Jimmy.”

He moaned at the comment daring to rock against her, not quite ready to pull out just yet. “You’re so fucking wet and you’re so snug around my cock.”

She whimpered at the comment needing to say it. “I love you.”

“I love you so much. Love you.” He replied, finally forcing himself to pull out before thrusting back in.

He did his best to keep his gaze locked with hers as he found a rhythm, her legs wrapping around his hips, tilting her hips back giving him a deeper angle to thrust.

He groaned as he watched her reaction, he was sure he’d never get enough of seeing her in this moment. Her eyes struggled to stay locked with his and not slide closed as she soaked up the pleasure. Her lips were parted soft sweet moans leaving her.

He spoke, continuing to rock in and out of her. “You’re so perfect.”

She whined at the praise, her nails digging into his back as he sped up his pace. The only thing that managed to fill the room were shared moans, soft praises, the creak of the hotel bed, and the sound of his skin meeting hers.

He groaned the words leaving him not caring if he was just saying anything that came to his brain. “Feels like your body was made for me, feels too good. Fuck, you’re never going to get rid of me after this. Gonna follow you like a lost dog. I’m yours.”

She pressed her lips to his a giggle leaving her. “Don’t want to ever get rid of you.”

She dared to reach between them, finding her clit rubbing tight circles against it. Jimmy groaned as it hit him what she was doing. He made a note to get her to do it again in those other positions she was promising he wanting a better clearer view. “That’s my girl, fuck yes. Help me make you feel so good. Want to make you cum again. Gonna make you cum so much before we leave Vegas.”

She whimpered, doubling down her head falling back ,the stimulation almost too much. She was almost certain if this was anyone but Jimmy she would have tapped out by now.

She was amazed that something that she’d been so afraid of for so long now managed to feel so amazing. She knew that Jimmy was the main factor in it feeling so wonderful. No other man would have ever made her feel this secure to ever give any of this a chance after last time.

Her last experience was pushed so far from her mind the only thing she could focus on was the man over her making her feel this amazing.

She whined, her body sliding closer and closer to finding release for the second time tonight. Jimmy sensed it, he speaking unable to stop himself from babbling it clear he was struggling not to become lost in his own pleasure. “Fuck, hon, oh God, beautiful, feels too good, oh fuck, perfect love.”

Her clit throbbed her body sliding closer and closer the feeling euphoric and so all consuming. She could feel the tension building in her body, she sliding so close to release.

She felt herself slide over the edge, Jimmy's name leaving her lips ,she digging her nails into his back she was almost sure she was risking drawing blood.

If she was, it went unnoticed by Jimmy, the sensation of her center fluttering around him she so soaked and hot he almost wanted to cry.

He did his best to keep thrusting through her orgasm though his movements were sloppy and clumsy, his cock aching his balls drawing close to his body signaling his own end was right around the corner.

It didn’t take long for him to follow her right over the edge as she finally began to come down from her own orgasm. He only managed a couple of clumsy thrusts, his own body reaching its end.

He moaned so loud he had to bury his face against the pillows, almost certain he’d deafen her or piss off their neighbors as he fell over the edge.

He spilled into her his release hot, his hips weakly thrusting. He knew they were making a mess as he came deep inside of her, her body taking it all a soft gasp leaving her the sensation intense even with as overstimulated as she was from her own orgasm.

He collapsed against her his body feeling heavy and drained as the last of his release seeped out of him.

His cock began to soften knowing any movement would mean sliding from her warmth but he found himself unwilling to pull out of her. He was relieved that she held onto him desperately, apparently just as eager to keep him within her as he was to stay.

He whined as his anatomy won out over his will he sliding from her.

He reluctantly rolled off of her, wasting little time to slide as close to her as possible.

She turned to face him cringing both at the soreness between her thighs and the smallest hint of their mixed releases leaking from her.

Jimmy reached out, smoothing back her hair, his voice raspy and exhausted. “You okay?”

“Never better…what about you?” She dared to ask knowing that tonight had been just as big of a deal to him.

“So good, perfect.” He insisted daring to lean in his lips sliding along hers lazily.

She returned his kisses, her voice soft and drowsy as she struggled to stay awake. “I love you.”

“Love you too, so much.” He insisted his hand pressing to her cheek his other hand pressing to her back as he held her against him.

She held on to him just as tightly, her voice so sleepy. “Can we share a bath after we rest?”

“Definitely. A bath sounds perfect. Then I think you said something in the midst of passion about trying other positions. I know we’ve got a week in Vegas, but there are a lot of positions out there. We can probably even google some new ones.” He replied, his lips pressing to any bit of skin he could reach he unable to resist teasing her about her earlier comment about different positions.

She giggled, nodding her head. “The hotel does have free wifi. Rest first though.”

He managed to speak as her eyes slid shut, his lips pressing to her temple, his own eyes growing just as heavy. “Love you, thank you for not letting me be scared to love you.”

#jimmy palmer #jimmy palmer x reader #jimmy palmer smut #ncis smut #ncis fanfiction

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ladyelissarose · 2 years ago

Text

‘A Mother’s Revenge’

COD MW x Female widowed reader- callsign: Melione (means Goddess of nightmares and ghosts)

Summary: After your husband and son are killed during a massacre, you mourn the loss of them, as you enter into a new version of yourself, that you never thought you had. The 141 has kept an eye on you, secretly, and admire what they see. As they watch your raging anger as your grow behaviors and tactics of a perfect assassin. Laswell takes you in, and promises to give you the revenge you want, if you work for them and help them take down who you find out is the same people that killed your family. But will you work with them and bring them in to serve for justice? Or will you just take advantage of their team to get them yourself, and kill them all?

Chapter 1 - ‘A Nightmare Became An Obsession’

Chapter 2 - ‘Backfire’

Chapter 3 - ‘Can I Trust You?’

Chapter 4 - ‘Miscommunication’

Chapter 5 - ‘What Am I Up Against?’

Chapter 6 - ‘I Don’t Know’

Chapter 7 - ‘Led Blindly’

Chapter 8 - ‘Betrayed’

Chapter 9 - ‘Revelation’

Chapter 10 - ‘Our Purpose’

Chapter 11 - ‘Ghosts’

Chapter 12 - ‘Target eliminated- onto the next’

Next Chapters are in the works!!

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spider-mancan · 2 years ago

Note

Starker fuck or die

This is insane. The entire day has been one dumpster fire after another. Peter fell asleep on top of a building still in costume with his textbook spread open on his lap to the sound of a phone call. The resulting jolt of unfortunate awareness nearly sent his school books down onto the pavement — instead they just have a stain from the webbing and an extremely damaged spine. Peter answered the phone but was more interested in mourning his rental deposit than whatever threat was causing the Avengers to assemble.

Then he heard the words Sex Demon come out of Captain America’s mouth and it was all downhill from there. Forlorn, Peter agreed to set his studying aside and come help out, because, really, when was he going to have another opportunity to sit in a room while Steve Rogers tried to talk about a Sex Demon in the debrief?

It wasn’t nearly as fun as Peter expected. They’d called him in because he was difficult to hit and had the benefit of both long- and short-range fighting, but some of the others weren’t so lucky. By the time he arrived, Black Widow had already been removed by Hawkeye, leaving Second Hawkeye looking very purple (“nice new uniform, Kate!”) and incredibly perplexed. Steve was mostly alright, but whatever was causing problems was not reacting well to the serum.

Causing problems, of course, meant making people extremely Down to Fuck extremely quickly.

“This is hilarious,” Peter says, swinging around the rafters. The warehouse they’re in has already been trashed, light leaking in through the roof and scaffolding collapsed in heaps on the concrete floor. “There is so much porn about this. At least two. Not that I know for sure.”

Tony comes over the comm. “I did hear Sex Pollen Sluts Go Nuts got excellent reviews.”

No one thinks this is funny at all, but Peter is too busy twisting out of harm’s way to feel bad about laughing.

It’s not a Sex Demon, which Peter finds incredibly disappointing. It’s just a man who believes in the power of the aphrodisiac, or something, and developed yadda yadda whatever he’s trying to get blackmail of the world’s most influential people blah blah super awkward and gross and his sex blaster doesn’t even look cool at all.

None of this is the particularly insane part.

The insane part happens about two seconds after Tony manages to topple Mr. Sex Demon over the railing and onto the ground, where the pressurized canisters on his back give way to the unforgiving asphalt and explode into a green haze so dense Peter can barely see the brilliant blue glow of the arc reactor in Tony’s chest.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter yells into the comm, without a response, and he’s swinging over to assess the damage when Captain barks orders for him to stay out of the way.

The Iron Man suit is already vacuuming up the fumes to remove the contaminant from the air, but Tony hadn’t been wearing one of his space safe suits which means there’s no internal oxygen supply, which means he’s also been contaminated. Regardless, the two men come into view and Tony just waves. “FRIDAY gives the all clear.” His voice sounds strained.

Peter drops down just behind. “Mr. Stark!”

“Spider-Man,” Steve calls, jogging over. “It’s best not to get to close—”

Peter is about to ask what Steve could possibly mean when he feels heavy hands grip his shoulders. The Iron Man gauntlets are heavy — in the armor Tony weighs nearly 400 pounds — and Peter winces. “Mr. Stark?”

He isn’t afraid — Natasha hadn’t been dangerous. She’d stood stock still for a moment, called for assistance, and immediately removed herself. Over the phone, Captain America had run through the symptoms of the spores, but Peter can’t remember all of that now. He vaguely remembers a loss of inhibition, some kind of animalistic behavior, and an increase in body temperature to dangerous levels over time.

“Tony,” Steve says warningly.

Iron Man’s faceplate lifts up and Tony is sweating, gritting his teeth. “I know, Cap.” His hands tighten, shaking, enough that Peter grabs one and flexes his fingers, debating whether to pry it off. “I’m trying.” Deep breath.

“Get away from the kid, Tony.” Steve pulls out his firearm and Peter is about to laugh, it’s insane, Tony would never hurt him. Touching Peter isn’t something Tony isn’t allowed to do. But when Peter goes to laugh Tony still looks so serious, so stony, almost sick. Deranged, even. Just a little.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter frowns and Tony’s eyes flutter closed, tight.

“Don’t call me that, right now, kid.”

Kate hops down from her perch in the rafters, awkwardly adjusting the quiver on her back. “I’m just gonna, uh, go.” She gestures over her shoulder to the door, which Tony blasted off the hinges not half an hour ago. “I’ll find a broom or something. Or just leave.”

Steve nods, mouth tight. His gaze doesn’t leave Tony where he’s hunched over Peter like a bad shadow, but his finger stays still on the trigger. Waiting. Not moving one way or the other.

Peter knows how these sorts of things go; if something can go wrong, it will. He runs through the data he can grapes through the confusion, tapping into Tony’s suit. Tony had been exposed to nearly twenty times the recommended dosage. Peter pulls his vitals through Karen and tries not to balk at Tony’s heart rate or internal temperature. Hot. Tony could fry an egg on his chest soon. “We need to get you out of the suit.” Peter reaches for one of the latches.

“Leave it,” Tony grunts. He’s bitten his lip so hard there’s blood in the corner of his mouth. “Better.” His hands haven’t moved, like he can’t move them, like he’s a statue. Peter is going anywhere without forcing himself free. “Better for you.”

“For me?” Peter demands. His hands are already on the gauntlet, but he freezes, struck silly by the sheer nerve. Tony is overloading and he thinks he should stay in the suit for Peter’s sake?

“I’m calling Fury.” Steve brings one hand up to his ear, gun still level. His eyes don’t leave Tony the entire time, even when he backs away slightly and starts to argue on the private channel.

Peter’s fingers tap a nervous rhythm on Tony’s armor. “Karen says you’re spiking really fast, sir,” he says at a whisper. This isn’t good for Tony’s heart, still weak, or his nervous system, which has been run ragged.

“I’m fine,” Tony chokes out through clenched teeth. His skin looks terribly gray, haggard, even. “I am really reliving some of my old glory days right now, but I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah. Drugs.” Peter laughs nervously. Tony’s eyes are blown, the warm brown consumed by darkness, and his gaze is heavy on Peter. The gauntlet moves now, pulling up the hem of Peter’s mask until Peter feels metal against his pulse point. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony groans.

Peter is a good kid, but he’s not a saint. He’s seen the Tony Stark sex tapes, even the ones that Tony didn’t know were being recorded. He’d been through his own moral beratement when he opened it the first time, but he’d done it several times since because they’re something about Tony that Peter can’t get enough of. And Peter has heard that groan a million times. It’s not like his enemy just punched me into a wall groan, or his this meeting could have been an email groan. It’s the groan he makes when he opens someone up with his cock for the first time. The eyes rolling back, hips stuttering kind of groan.

Peter is suddenly very hard in his jock strap. Terrible. Terrible news.

Karen is a welcome distraction in the form of more terrible news. “Mr. Stark!” The vitals displaying on Peter’s HUD are approaching dangerous levels, especially for an older, unenhanced human. “Your heart rate. It’s crazy!”

Tony is sweating, mouth open in the face of the rising temperatures, and Peter starts to frantically start prying at the mechanisms that hold the armor together. Tony makes no move to assist. “Leave it.”

“You’re in a metal can and you’re already over 100F,” Peter tells him, as if Tony didn’t know. “You’re going to—”

He doesn’t hear Steve barking at him to stop. It doesn't strike him that it’s a bad idea until it’s too late.

Peter manages to get his nails under the ridge of the chest plate and release it, pulling back, and then suddenly he’s falling. Tony has miraculously changed his mind about the suit and decided to abandon it entirely, stepping out and using the momentum of Peter’s scrambling until they both fall prone on the ground. There’s a poof of dust as they clatter onto the warehouse floor, tangled together.

Steve looks over at them sharply and is yelling orders Peter can’t quite hear because he is too busy trying to place the way Tony is smothering him with his body. Even through Peter’s suit he feels the heat radiating off of Tony’s skin, so sweaty he’s almost slick. He smells like hard work and expensive cologne. Peter is bewildered, and he puts his hands on Tony’s chest to push him away only to freeze when he feels Tony pull up mask and lick a thick line from his collar to his ear.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t—” Tony gets a hand between them, pushing the release on Peter’s suit until it’s loose around his body and Peter turns his head to look at Steve. “Captain, I didn’t think it was supposed to be, ah, oh.” He shudders when Tony sucks Peter’s ear into his mouth. “Mr. Stark, please. We need to get you to medical.”

“No time,” Tony mumbles against Peter’s throat. He’s cupping Peter’s groin through the suit while the other hand pulls the mask off completely. “Want you bad. God, I can’t even think. Look at you.”

“Tony.” Steve takes the safety off, conversation over the communicator set aside, and gets closer. He doesn’t want to shoot. That much is obvious — if he was going to, he would have already done it. “I said get off the kid.”

“He’s mine, Capsicle,” Tony growls. He winds his hands around Peter’s back until their chest to chest, and Peter feel the rabbiting heartbeat until it’s hard to separate whose is whose. “Get your own!” There’s the tell-tale fire up of the propulser on Tony’s palm, and then there’s a stare down between Iron Man and Captain America with a shivering Spider-Man sandwiched between.

Steve looks away first.

Peter feels a bit wild, wide-eyed, confused. Flushed and hot and not attractive at all, but Tony is near-tearing the suit off of his body and Peter is so shocked he’s barely fighting it. Cold air hits his sweaty skin where Tony is pulling it down at the neck and it feels like an electric shock. “Mr. Stark, seriously. You need to—oh.” There’s a rough hand on his cock. “Oh, my god.”

Tony has both hands on Peter again, like he’s going to reach into Peter’s chest and start pulling him apart, but the Iron Man suit is in sentry mode now; Peter hears the thunk of the boots on the ground even as he’s writhing, trying to focus past the sound of his own insane breathing. He blinks and then there is red and gold staring down the barrel of Steve’s gun.

“Need you, kid,” Tony growls in his ear, pulling down the length of him through his underwear. This was not on Peter’s bingo card for the day. “Feel like I’ll die without you.”

Maybe you will, Peter thinks hysterically.

Steve could stop this, but the gun is slowly falling lower until it’s pointed at the concrete. “Peter,” he starts, “if you give me the word, I’ll remove him and take him to quarantine until we find a willing partner.”

“Partner?” The puzzle pieces are falling into place but there has to be another picture because the one in Peter’s head isn’t making any sense. “I thought this just made you horny!”

“It sure does,” Tony mutters. He doesn’t spare Peter’s underthings nearly the same respect as the suit, but he tears Peter’s t-shirt off at the neck and spreads it open like a child opening a Christmas present. Hands splay flat over sweaty skin, feeling Peter’s rapid breathing. “I’m going to ruin you, kid.” Like he can’t hear a single thing.

“I’m not—oh, god.” Tony is heavy on top of him and his cock is hard in his sweats, thick where it’s digging into Peter’s hip. Tony readjusts and grinds them together, hard enough that Peter scrambles for purchase against Tony’s back. “Cap, I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

Tony rakes his nails down Peter’s bare chest, catching on Peter’s nipples with a satisfied smirk.

“What do you want to do?” Steve asks slowly.

Tony has such a high fever and his heart rate is dangerous and he looks at Peter and says, “you want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?” and Peter is so fucked. He’s both literally and figuratively fucked.

Like a flash of lightning, Peter remembers the call earlier: if Tony doesn’t come inside someone, he’ll overheat until he’s either cooked inside or dies from a heart attack. It had sounded kind of funny at the time, only half-paying attention.

Despite having a god among men standing not twenty feet away — oh, god, Captain America can totally see Peter’s boner right now — Tony doesn’t look away from Peter for a single moment if he can help it. Years of the revolving door love interests have made Tony extremely good with his hands. He’s often joked about it, about how good he is in bed, but Peter never actually thought he’d feel the way Tony smoothes hands over skin or bites bruises cherry red and it’s just a whole lot more than Peter expected to happen.

“I—I…oh, god.” Tony licks a line from Peter’s navel up to his chest and latches on to one of Peter’s nipples with his teeth. “I’m, I’m willing. I just—”

“Are you sure?” Steve says firmly, like Peter might be able to think straight with Tony all over him like every unfortunate wet dream he’s had since the seventh grade.

“If you don’t leave right now,” Tony says with a growl, “you’re going to get quite the show, Cap.” His eyes look clouded over, and he sits back heavy on Peter’s cock and just looks at the mess he’s made. Peter’s suit is hanging haphazardly around his hips and his shirt is ruined and his skin is bright pink. The cold wind through the holes in the walls brushes past, too cool on the spit-slick on Peter’s chest and he shudders.

“I’m okay,” Peter chants, and he lets himself reach out and touch for the first time. It’s tentative, fingertips across the scarring on Tony’s chest. “Like, what the fuck, but also I’ll be okay.”

If anyone understands that, it’s Steve, who is flushed almost as red as Peter and pivots. “I’ll guard the perimeter.”

With a grin, Tony rolls his hips so fluidly Peter whines high in his throat. “Kind of wanted to put on a show.” His cock is so hard, rutting into the dips of Peter’s stomach. “Bet he’ll watch. He just doesn’t want to admit how good you look. My perfect boy.” He grabs both sides of Peter’s head, fingers tangling in his hair so hard Peter can’t look anywhere but straight ahead.

Peter presses his hands flat. “Mr. Stark, I…” He closes his eyes tight. “What do I do? This is crazy.” Not last week Tony had been helping Peter with relationship advice, how to get a girl’s attention, clapped him on the shoulder and called him champ like he was going to take Peter to the baseball game later. “You’re…”

The first time Tony kisses him, Peter’s brain doesn’t care about the drugged nature of it. It’s everything he wants, everything he thought it would be in his wildest dreams. It’s possessive, almost bruising, like Tony is boiling over and he’s going to fill Peter up with it. Teeth nips at Peter’s bottom lip until he makes the smallest sound, a little desperate. What? That’s Mr. Stark’s tongue in his mouth.

Tony’s hands slip down under the waistband of Peter’s until he touches hair and Peter writhes, knees clanking together, trying to hide himself even though Tony groans again like he’s found nirvana. His nails rake up the sensitive skin near Peter’s groin. “So soft and beautiful.” Tony bites into the meat of Peter’s shoulder, hips still rutting in a sinful rhythm. “Knew you would be.”

“Are you sure about—ah, about this, Mr, Stark?” Peter tries. His tongue is so thick in his mouth. He can hardly process anything. Beyond Tony is the dingy gray walls of the warehouse, the open space, anyone could walk in and they’d see Tony pinning Peter down with his body. Tony has never looked at him this way; not that Peter hasn’t tried. “You’re…you’re going to hate me later.” He covers his face with his hands, feels the heat on his cheeks.

When he turned seventeen he’d pushed his luck. He touched more, took more. Kissed Tony on the cheek goodbye until he was daring enough to slip, catch just the corner of Tony’s mouth. Peter remembers it, it’s was Monday, rainy, because he’ll never forget the way Tony had looked at him after. Terrified. Disgusted, even. Of Peter. Of Peter kissing him.

Right now, Tony needs more than a sidestep kiss and pat on the shoulder. He needs a hole, something to fuck into, something to take apart piece by piece, and he’s already let Peter know he wasn’t interested in that with him. Peter’s brain is spinning, the reality of the situation started to seep in through the cracks of his shock, and he wonders if he’s being an opportunist by taking Tony’s wandering hands in stride.

“Oh, darling.” Tony leans in and presses a wet kiss to Peter’s shoulder. “I could never hate you.”

The sound of the zipper fills up the whole room. The space is public, with the open floor and windows and sun streaming down, but it’s quiet, save the police sirens outside. Tens of people, probably, just a flimsy wall away while Tony Stark gets his cock out with a groan.

It’s thick, uncut, slightly to the left, and nestled in a thick and well-groomed swath of dark hair. Peter knew all that from the videos, the tapes he keeps on his phone for the lonely nights, but that’s just an old image of Tony. Right now, Tony is on his knees above Peter and he grins, circling his cock with his fingers so Peter can watch it twitch. He’s still a bit gray, he looks sick, and his hair is slick against his neck. Peter has always liked that, when it curls there, but Peter can’t look away from the curls around Tony’s cock right now because he’s just a man and his mouth is watering.

“You’re going to be the best thing I’ve ever felt,” Tony says through that wicked grin, eyes dazed — mind far away, probably, since the fight has left him. He leans over, lets his cock drag over Peter’s stomach. Peter feels pre-come in a smooth line and it makes him whimper. “I’ve fucked royalty, the most powerful people in the world, the most beautiful, but I know you’re going to feel the best.”

He kisses Peter then, when Peter opens his mouth and moans at the idea. He brings one thick hand up to Peter’s neck and just holds him, all threat but no pressure, and opens up Peter’s kisses with the flat of his tongue until Peter is weak and loose on the floor. Those fingers pull his mouth down, slip in and feel his tongue slide under the fingertips, and Tony doesn’t have to tell Peter to suck because this has happened in Peter’s head at least twenty five times.

Tony tastes like metal and lotion and salt. He presses on Peter’s tongue until Peter drools around his fingers, grinding his cock into Peter’s hip and rolling his thigh up between Peter’s legs. “Knew you’d melt for me, sugar in the rain, just like that.”

Peter thinks his eyes might roll back in his head. Is he the one that got caught in the sex pollen nightmare? He feels giddy, almost drunk, and he lets more drool come out of his mouth and slick up Tony’s fingers. He knows where they’re going.

Tony is less single-minded than Peter would have thought, because he’s slow to pull his fingers away and he’s slow to lift up Peter’s leg and he spends an awed moment just looking, which borders on being too much. Peter can feel his ass clench when Tony runs a thumb over the pucker, and his legs tighten around Tony’s hips.

“Just, uh…” Peter wipes his mouth and hides his face in his elbow. “You can start, just…whatever you need.”

Tony presses in gently with the pad of his thumb at the same time he tugs Peter’s arm away from his face, just in time to see Peter’s expression slip into something feral. “Need to see you.” Tony bites into the meat of Peter’s shoulder and laves at it with his tongue. His goatee scrapes across Peter’s skin so good, and Peter curls up until his arms are curling over Tony’s head, hovering, unsure whether to bring him closer or pull him away. “My good boy.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter presses Tony into his shoulders, another bite, and Tony slips a spit-slick finger inside quick and easy. “Oh, god, I didn’t think—I never thought—”

That’s a lie. Peter thought about it a lot, the way Tony might work him open. Tony’s fingers curl smoothly against Peter’s walls, one to two and then three, a little dry but Peter doesn’t mind when it hurts a little because sometimes soft and sweet feels dull. Sometimes he wants someone to rip him open and make him cry and if Tony is going to do it right now, under threat of death—

“Think about you all the time,” Tony croons heavily against Peter’s skin. He pulls away, purposeful, and Peter blinks. He wonders hysterically if the fog melted away, no more sex magic or whatever it is that’s making Tony want to destroy him, but Tony just draws closer until he can slap his cock around Peter’s swollen mouth. “Get me wet. I’ll make you stop thinking for good.”

Peter groans, an open invitation. This is insane. He shouldn’t enjoy this because Mr. Stark is drugged into wanting him and it’s a huge breach of trust and privacy but Peter scrambled up onto his elbows so Tony can feed him his dick, thick and perfect. He grabs Tony’s hip so hard he thinks there might be bruises but Tony fucks a little harder into his mouth, smooth.

There isn’t a lot of time for sex in his line of work, he’s busy, he’s pining over a man who doesn’t want him, not for real, but Peter isn’t too good to get on his knees in the back of a club and swallow someone down. He knows what he’s doing, throat opening up until the head of Tony’s cock hits the back of his throat. He hums. He loves this. He loves sucking people off, makes his head floaty and easy, and he’s got his eyes closed just to revel in it. He lets drool pool in his mouth again, knows it’s going to make his life easier.

Tony’s thumb wipes a tear off Peter’s cheek, and it’s only then that Peter opens his eyes and finds his lashes damp, stuck together, watery. “There’s my boy.” It’s so fond. “Don’t cry. You’re doing so well.”

Peter’s hips fuck up into the air and he pulls off, suckling at the head before letting it rest gently on his bottom lip. “I’m good. I’m good, Mr. Stark.” He feels Tony twitch against his mouth. It’s incredible.

It’s nothing compared to Tony rolling him over on his side, the obscene way Tony hikes up one of Peter’s legs and spits in Peter’s hole and feeds Peter the head of his cock so fast it burns a little, the way Peter kind of likes but won’t admit. It hurts and then his body knows it like this and everything evens out and Tony growls when he thrusts fully into Peter. His skin slaps hard against Peter’s hips, rocking Peter with a surprised cry further across the dusty ground. Tony just smoothes his hand over Peter’s hip, under the knee, and rocks into him. He bites feral at Peter’s neck and shoulders like he’s here to take and claim, like he’s going to want to see the shape of himself on Peter later.

“Oh, Mr. Stark, I’m, ah, oh, please.” Tony brushes up against his prostate and Peter jolts forward, bracing himself with his free hand on the ground to stop from being fucked flat into the floor. “Oh, please. It’s good. It’s good, it’s good.”

Peter isn’t sure Tony can hear anything anymore, but he takes his hand off Peter’s knee and wraps it around Peter’s throat, pulling him back so their bodies are flush and rocking hard and tight into Peter’s body. It’s hard to remember this is just drugs, this is just another day on the job getting fucked by the unrequited love of his life, when Tony watching the way Peter’s eyes roll back so closely. When Tony kisses Peter he tastes like blood but feels like gold, wrapping Peter up tighter. Peter couldn’t leave if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. He’ll never want to.

“You take me so good, kid,” Tony says against Peter’s jaw, kisses wetly at the skin there. “Thought about this, about opening you up in the lab.”

“Ngh.” Peter is beyond speech, just like Tony promised, but his hand flies back to dig nails into Tony’s hip. His cock aches, dribbling precome onto the dirty floor and the tangle of his ruined clothes.

“It’s bend you over and slip inside and you’d just—fucking—let me.” He thrusts hard into Peter’s hole, punctuation, and the sound Peter makes is ungodly. “Thought about it when you glued yourself to the wall, just ripping your clothes off—mmm.” A slow roll Peter can feel in his toes. “Find you already open and dripping because I know you fuck yourself sometimes before you come in. FRIDAY can tell.”

Tony isn’t squeezing his throat but Peter can’t breathe.

There are a million and one first hand accounts of Tony Stark’s stroke, but Peter doesn’t think any of them compare to the real thing. On the ground, in the warehouse, while Captain America tries to stop New York’s Finest from throwing open the door and seeing Peter pinned here in the dirt, spread open—

“That’s it,” Tony whispers, gravel. He scratches down Peter’s chest and wraps his hand around Peter’s cock. “You’re so good. Go on. Make a mess. Daddy will clean it up for you.”

It’s deep in Peter’s stomach, rolls up until it burns in his chest and chokes him. His hips cant back, trying to take more of Tony, more more more of something that isn’t here, out here in the open. Everyone knows they’re doing this right now. Fuck. Tony’s suit is still there; FRIDAY is recording all of this, the way Peter shudders and writhes and comes and comes and comes all over Tony’s fist.

He falls flat on his stomach, Tony’s hand still pumping lightly until Peter is pushing back against Tony’s thrusts just trying to get away from the sensitivity.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Kisses all over his neck, his throat, his cheeks. “Let me take care of you. Almost there, so good. So perfect.”

There’s no condom. That’s the last thought Peter has, as Tony comes thick and hot in Peter’s ass and grunts, bites one more time. No condom. Very messy. It’s fine, probably, since Tony said he’d clean it up.

The adrenalin drop hits, empty, and Peter fades away into something deeper than sleep with his cheek pressed into the cold ground and Tony pulling out of his body, wet and sloppy.

#alright so this got away from me #obviously #i'm gonna add a little ending onto this and then post to ao3 because this is just a whole fic #starker #sex pollen #fuck or die #i did my best i've never written anything very exciting smut wise before lmao #asks #tntp #dub con #this is fine #im on fire it's fine

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