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hotchscoffeecup · 4 months ago

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from across the bar

summary: an observation here and a sarcastic retort there is a sure fire way to catch agent hotchner’s attention at the hotel bar. after sharing a drink, he invites you to his hotel room where he gives it you just the way you ask for it: rough.

tags: light bondage, minor self-degradation, hand sex, oral sex, p in v sex, ass slapping, rough sex

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

rating: m, mdni

word count: 4.2k

Goosebumps bristle across your skin; the sharp bite of winter’s wind whipping against your cheeks and tossing your hair about your face. You fold your arms across your chest, tucking your hands beneath your biceps and thinking you ought to have worn a thicker coat. The thin suede Calvin Klein duster you’re wearing flutters about your ankles as the doorman tips his head in greeting and pulls the door wide. Heat rushes out to greet you and you smile in thanks as you cross through the threshold.

Friday night at The Ritz-Carlton is as busy as any bar or restaurant in DC. Men and women dressed in exorbitantly priced suits and dresses mill about, laughing and cavorting over drinks; standing at cocktail tables or seated at the bar or sleek leather seated areas interspersed throughout the modern space. Recess lighting creates a dim ambience that gives Hollister a run for its money. Your lips twitch and you have to fight to school your facial expression. The opulence is unnecessary, but you roll your shoulders back and situate yourself at the bar anyway, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you do so.

“Something to drink?” a bartender asks, placing a drink menu in front of you.

You smile politely and push the menu away. “A riesling, please.”

“Riesling? That’s awfully sweet, isn’t it?”

Your brow arches in response to the deep tenor rumbling a few seats down from you. You spare a glance in his direction and note the way in which he swirls the scotch in his hand. You’re half convinced that no one actually likes scotch; that it’s more about men establishing dominance around other men while they all pretend to enjoy a drink that tastes like paint thinner.

He is quite handsome though; from the strong set of his jaw to the dark slash of his brow, everything about him exudes leadership and power. A lawyer, perhaps. His suit is tailored to fit his lean frame, an expensive watch peeking out from beneath the cuff of his dress shirt.

You thank the bartender as they place a long stemmed glass in front of you. You take a long slow sip, enjoying the crisp white wine.

“Careful, big shot” you warn, not looking in his direction. “Sweetness often masks the taste of poison. You ought to know,” you say, inclining your chin toward the glass in his hand.

He chuckles wryly and sips his whiskey, “Scotch is an acquired taste.”

You roll your eyes and check your phone, noting the lack of text notifications or any sign of a missed call and slip it back into your coat pocket.

“Not the message you were expecting?” he asks and he seems genuinely curious.

“It’s the lack thereof,” you grumble and take another sip of wine. Five minutes late is one thing, fifteen is a different matter altogether without any attempt to reach out.

“Stood up on a Friday night,” the man arches his brow and blows out a slow breath. “That’s rough.”

“I was not stood up!” you counter defensively. You take a quick breath and actually turn to face him. Your heart stills momentarily as you take in the amused look in his dark brown eyes and the smirk tugging at his lips. Quickly coming back down to Earth, you blink several times and cross one leg over the other.

You feel his eyes level on you and you struggle to come up with some quippy retort. As he sips his whiskey, you can’t help but notice how strong his hands look; his wide palms and long fingers dwarfing the glass in his hand. For a split second you wonder what it would feel like to have those fingers wrapped around your throat or tangled in your hair.

“Wedding ring,” you almost blurt out.

His brow furrows and you point to his left hand, indicating the tan line on his fourth finger. His hand flexes around the cup before he sighs. “Divorced.”

“Ah,” you say, taking another sip of your wine. “So, that’s why you’re drinking alone on a Friday night?”

“I’m not alone,” he replies coolly, arching a brow as he regards you.

His keen stare forces a rush of heat to flush to your cheeks. A smirk tugs at his lips in response to the obvious scarlett trailing across your face and neck.

Taking a deep breath, you finish your glass of wine, stand, and shuffle down to occupy the seat beside him, your high heeled boots clacking against the tiled floor. With a newly emboldened confidence, you place your hand flat against his thigh, boosting yourself up onto the barstool as you level your gaze on him from beneath curled lashes.

His eyes widen slightly, but you see a spark of a challenge flare to life inside them. “What’s your name?” he asks.

You reach for his tie, gently tugging on it. You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Forget my name,” you say coolly. “You clearly came out tonight looking to meet someone and it looks like my plans have changed.”

“I have a suite on the 7th floor,” he says.

You offer him a wicked smile, “Then what are we still doing here?”

•

As the elevator doors pings, signaling its arrival in the lobby, the man extends an arm, holding them open for you to enter first.

“A gentleman too,” you remark as you slide past him letting your body brush against despite the ample room to avoid doing so. The heady scent of his cologne sticks to you and you wonder if you’ll be smelling it on your skin here soon.

He steps inside and presses the button for the seventh floor. As the elevator doors begin to close, someone rushes toward them, trying to get on but the man doesn’t move to hold them. “Take the next one,” he says as they seal shut.

He pounces the second they do, one hand curled around your waist and the other tangled in your hair; your combined body weight thudding against the paneled wall of the elevator. His lips crash against yours, and your lips instantly part for him; groaning into his open mouth. This only seems to drive him further and you feel his erection pressed against your thigh.

“Eager, are we?” you breathe against his lips before nipping at the shell of his ear.

His left hand curves around your ass to cup it in his large hand as his other curls around the back of your neck, using his thumb to angle your chin up towards him. “You have no idea,” he says, voice husky as he moves to suckle the hollow of your throat.

You fist the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer to you. You moan against his mouth eliciting a deeper one from him. As the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the seventh floor, you peel yourself off of him and slip through the doors right as they open leaving him panting and aching for more.

Giggling to yourself, you don’t wait for him as you head toward his room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls after you seductively. With a breathy laugh he adds, “You don’t even know which room it is.”

“Oh, don’t I?” you tease. Without turning back, you raise your hand in the air, his key card tucked between two fingers. “You really outta keep better track of your belongings.”

The sound of him slapping his pockets and grumbling curses brings a cheeky grin to your lips. You slap the key against the keypad and buzz inside the hotel room, slamming the door shut just before he reaches you.

A dark laugh rumbles from beyond the door and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Undoing the belt at your waist, you shrug out of your coat and toss it over the nearby sofa. He knocks on the door and in a voice just above a whisper he starts to detail what he’s going to do to you once you let him inside. Your black high waisted trousers accentuate the curve of your waist, the black lacy corset teddy you’re wearing underneath pushes your breasts up and out.

As you move to open the door, you swipe his badge from your coat pocket, the other item you’d managed to swipe from his suit jacket.

He opens his mouth to chastise you, but instead he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as his eyes drop to the swell of your breast. He leans into his arm that’s stretched up above him where he holds onto the doorframe.

Pouting, you fold your hands behind your back and rock back and forth on your heels. “I’m sorry for locking you out,” you say coyly. “Tell me though,” you say, leaning forward, looping your arms around his neck. “Do you have a pair of handcuffs somewhere on you to go with this badge, Agent Hotchner?”

Pulling your one hand free from around his neck, you flip open the leather bifold and dangle his own photo in front of his steely gaze.

His lips press together in a firm line as he looks from his badge to you, though the smile doesn’t slip from your mouth. He pushes his weight against the door frame and peers over both shoulders before taking his forearm and pushing it into your chest, forcing your back against the doorway and knocking the air from your lungs. Your chest heaves and your abdomen clenches as you bite your lip, eyes flicking from his mouth to his eyes. He dips his chin so his lips are level with your ear.

“I don’t need my cuffs to keep you at my mercy,” he growls.

The breath in your lungs stills and you feel your pulse increase, thrumming inside your neck. Wrapping his tie around your knuckles, you gently tug him towards you. “Then give it to me, rough, G-man.”

He wastes no time. Releasing the door frame, he drops it and loops it around your waist before yanking you against his muscular frame. He walks you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him and the door automatically locks.

His grip on your hips is bruising and you love the ache of his hands on you as he guides you to the bed. His lips seek yours out and when they find them, you slip your tongue between his lips. You can still taste the scotch on him. As you fold your hands into his hair, you gently suck on his lower lip, grazing your teeth along it and savoring the moan that elicits from him.

When your ass touches the edge of the bed, he pushes his pelvis against your hip, his erection digging into your thigh. You yearn to feel that hard length inside your pussy, but you know it won’t be that easy. You’ve played too many games with him tonight to win him over that easily. You lower your weight onto the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

“So?” you ask, offering a flirtatious glance whilst skirting the toe of your boot up the length of his leg. “What’s the verdict on those cuffs, Agent?”

His fingers curl around your bare shoulders and toy with the straps of your teddy. “I’m not carrying them tonight,” he says after a while. He moves to loosen his tie and your belly clenches as you wonder what he plans to do with it.

“Hands out,” he orders, and the authority in his voice is so natural you immediately feel compelled to listen.

He slips his tie from around his neck and winds it around your wrists, tying them together snugly, but not so much to cut off feeling to them. He grips the loose end and aggressively tugs you towards him so that your chest is flush with his.

You splay your fingers out against his chest and try to reach for the collar of his shirt to start working on the buttons when he yanks your wrists away.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs. He releases his hold on your makeshift restraints and shifts both hands under your ass. With a grunt, he picks you and shifts your weight so that you’re sat fully on the bed.

“Lay down,” he commands. “Arms above your head.”

As you slowly do as he asks, your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Yes sir, Mr. Hotchner.”

He emits a low groan as his name tumbles from your mouth and you know his cock is straining in his pants. Again, you try to tease him through his trousers with the toe of your boot, but his reflexes are too quick and his hand snaps out to catch your ankle. He arches one dark brow at you before focusing his attention on unzipping each one at a relentlessly slow pace. Your pussy throbs in anticipation of what’s to come and you bite your lip as he straddles your waist, one knee on the bed as his other foot remains on the floor. His eyes are fixed on yours as his fingers make quick work of the buttons of your pants. As his fingers curl around the hem and begin to wind them down your waist and hips, you can’t help but reach up and try to run your fingers through his hair.

Immediately, he snatches your wrist from midair and slams it into the mattress. You gasp and try not to giggle, excited by this show of brute force.

“Don’t move.” His voice is low. “If you can’t follow instructions, there will be consequences.”

You push your lower lip forward, “And I hate to suffer those at your big,” you enunciate each word, “strong, hands.”

Hotchner keeps his obsidian eyes, sharp as knives, daggered on you for a second longer, before releasing your wrists and sliding your pants down and off your legs.

“Now this,” he says, trailing a finger down the lace up front of the corset styled teddy. “Makes accessing want I know you so desperately want me to touch a little difficult, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, you should check again Mr. Hotchner,” you reply with a flutter of lashes.

He regards you curiously, but there’s a dark amusement glinting in the depths of his irises. His hand slinks around your calf, and that alone elicits goosebumps up and down the length of exposed skin. As his hand trails up the inside of your thighs, your muscles quake as you allow your legs to fall open for him.

His lips part as he discovers the missing fabric between your legs. His brow curves as he regards you with keen interest. “One way or another you knew you were getting fucked tonight.”

“One can never be too prepared, can they?”

“No,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh. You squirm as he presses his hand flat against your belly, fingers splayed out as he slowly drags them down toward your center.

“Now let’s see just how ready you are, shall we?.” He sinks one long finger inside you and you groan. “So wet,” he murmurs, slowly sinking another finger inside of you. You feel the moisture pooling, how quickly the torturously slow rhythm of his fingers heightens your arousal. When his thumb presses against your clit and begins moving in slow circles, your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Oh, Aaron,” you say, dragging out his name. Your hands fumble to grip onto the sheets as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, maneuvering his fingers each time to strike your g-spot in rhythm with the circular motion around your clit. The wet sounds of his hands wringing pleasure from your body alongside him murmuring filthy things is too much. You need more.

“Please,” you say, arching your back against the mattress in an attempt to draw his fingers in deeper. “I need more.” You hook a leg around his waist and pull him against the edge of the bed, not missing the way his throat strains and eyes roll back at that thought. He increases his speed and without warning withdraws his fingers. You immediately miss their presence, but then suppress a scream as he dives face first into your pussy. His tongue delves into your center, devouring your pleasure. His slick tongue finds your clit, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nub and your pleasure centers are firing on all cylinders.

You dig your elbows into the mattress and push your hips into the air, pressing yourself against his mouth and he moans against your pussy. You feel the deep tremble reverberate against your walls and cry out as it becomes too much to bear in the best way possible.

He grips your hips and you kick you legs up around his neck, drawing him in as if he could get any closer to you. You clench the sheets above your head and cry out, his name on your lips as pleasure builds in your abdomen, pulsing through you all the way to your core. He shifts then, and before you can wonder what he’s doing, he takes a breath and sucks your clit between his teeth. You hiss at the unfamiliar sensation and swear you see stars when his fingers plunge deep into your pussy.

You come instantly, your orgsam surging through you like electricity. You feel it through every inch of your body, from the tips of your toes to the ends of your tousled hair. The aftershocks are still coursing through you as Hotchner tightens his hold on your hips and with a grunt of effort, flips you onto your stomach and yanks you closer to the edge of the bed. The sound of a belt unfastening and zipper coming down is all the preparation you receive before he slaps your ass and the hard length of his cock slams into you. You cry out with ultimate ecstasy as he fills you.

Turning your face into the mattress, you gasp and grunt with each forceful thrust. Your pussy clenches around his thick girth. The slap of flesh on flesh is all that can be heard as he pumps himself in and out. He releases a sharp breath and winds his fingers into your hair, tugging on it. You cry out and moan as you turn to look at him over your shoulder, finding great satisfaction when you watch him melt under your sultry smokey eyed look.

“Come on, baby,” you urge and you see his restraint crack. “Take what you want.”

His brow pinches and unfurrows as his grip starts to falter.

“Use me,” you push, delighting in the way his lips press together as he fights to hold on to his release.

You press your ass higher into the air, allowing him to plunge deeper into your core as his thrusts become less controlled and his pace becomes erratic.

“You don’t,” you grunt and moan as he strikes your g-spot again and again, “even know my name.” You breathe out and groan as you turn over your shoulder once more. “Let me be your whore, Agent Hotchner.”

Hot, thick ropes of cum erupt from his cock into your pussy. He holds onto your hips so tightly, you know you’ll have bruises in the morning. You relish in his pleasure as much he relished in yours. When he stops shaking, he slowly lowers your hips onto the mattress and smooths his fingers over the tender flesh there.

Easing you on to your back, you feel his cum slip down your inner thighs as he clambers over you and tenderly kisses your face and neck. When his lips brush yours, you taste yourself on him.

You reach up and hands still bound, brush the hair from his forehead. He smiles as he reaches up and undoes the knot with one swift move. The tie instantly unravels and he casts it aside. You place your hands on either side of his face, thumb stroking the sharp curve of his jaw.

“Let me help get you cleaned up,” he says gently, eyes soft.

You nod, “I think I’d like that.”

He cradles you into his arms and carries you to the shower where he places you on the tile floor and cranks the water on. As steam begins to fill the room, he helps you out of your negligee. Without words, you turn and push his blazer off of his shoulders. You do the same with his dress shirt and let him kick out of his shoes and socks before curling your fingers around the hem of his pants and underwear and kneel to draw them down over his ankles.

He loops his arms around your waist as you stand and kisses you slowly as he guides you back into the walk-in shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, soothing your taut muscles. You close your eyes as he tilts your head back and smoothes your hair away from your face. He places feather light kisses along your jawline as he pumps body wash into his hand from the dispenser on the wall.

“How do you feel?” he asks as he lathers the soap between his hands and smoothes it over your shoulders.

You release a moan of a different sort as his fingers massage the soap into your neck and back. You turn around and lean against the wide plane of his chest as he curves his hands around to wash your breasts and stomach.

His voice is amused when he speaks. “That good, hmm?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm.

He laughs softly in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple. He continues to wash your body, treating each limb like a holy object the way he handles you with such delicacy and adoration. When he finishes with you, he washes himself quickly and exits the shower to retrieve two plush towels from beneath the sink. As you work to try yourself off, he fetches the robes provided to each guest from the closet in the main room.

You admire the softness of his stomach contrasted with the hard angles of his face and lean musculature of his arms and legs. He really is a beautiful man.

“Thank you, Agent.” You say with a wink as you take it from him.

He laughs. “You and titles. I thought we’d agreed on no names.”

“I said you didn’t need to know my name. I never said anything about yours. What can I say? I love a power play. After all, you must be used to that in your big, bad FBI office, hmm?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Something like that.”

You continue to towel dry your hair and smile back at him. “I guess this game of ours has reached its end. I gotta say, I had a wonderful time.”

“It doesn’t have to end,” he says with a suggestive arch of his brow.

Tilting your head back and forth, you weigh your options. “How about this?” you say, taking a measured step toward him. His eyes widen, surprised by your sudden prowess. “You and me,” you say slowly and stand on your toes so you can purr directly into his ear, “drop the ruse, order room service, and watch a movie on Netflix?”

He pulls away, expression unreadable for a moment. You keep your eyes on him, waiting, and then smile when his posture visibly relaxes. “Honestly, that sounds great, babe, I’m exhausted.”

A grin pulls across your cheeks as you dash into the room and grab your purse. Returning to the bathroom, you reach deep into your bag and unzip the pocket in the inner lining. You fish out your wedding rings and place Aaron’s in his hand before slipping yours back onto your finger.

“The crotchless lingerie was a nice surprise,” he says as he adjust the simple gold band on his finger.

Your lips quirk into a grin, “Yeah, I thought you’d like that little surprise.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss you. “Seriously though, how’d I do?” he asks. “I’m not used to using my office persona around you. It’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be. With you, it’s so easy to leave work at the office and relax.”

“Well I certainly hope you don’t do that at the office.”

He chuckles. “You know what I mean!” He waves his hand absentmindedly. “The hardened exterior, the stern, hard voice, expressionless. Dominating. I’m never like that with you.”

“Naturally,” you tease, voice light. “I’m so full of fun and whimsy. It’s hard not to come back down to Earth from your Bureaucratic cloud of murder and mayhem when you’re with me.”

He loops his arms around you, hands flat against your back. “Five years of marriage and you still manage to keep me on my toes, more so than some of the men and women I’m paid to track down and put away.”

You pull back and look up at him. “You love the sex bucket list, be honest.”

He can’t fight the grin that tugs at his lips as he nods. “Role playing as two strangers that meet at random is definitely up there with the things we’ve done so far.”

“More fun than when we played naked Twister with the body paint?”

“Ooo, don’t make me choose.”

He dials room service, ordering plenty of food and desserts to refuel after your exciting adventure into role play and as you climb into the California king bed with him and snuggle against his chest, you silently thank whatever divine forces exist in the universe for every opportunity you get to spend with him like this; your lover, your husband, your everything.

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queers-gambit · 8 months ago

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Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

requesting rules and masterlist

MCU masterlist

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 6 months ago

Text

Needy Girl » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: You become very needy when you see Bucky in a suit.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex, closet sex, daddy kink, praise kink, vibranium arm kink, name calling (slut), pet names

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Ever since you and Bucky left the house this morning, you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Yes, you’ve seen him wearing suits before, but there’s something about him wearing them that makes him irresistible. As of right now, you two are at your cousin’s wedding, but you’re having a difficult time paying attention to the ceremony due to your husband’s hotness. He’s moved your hand off of his thigh multiple times, but you can’t keep your hands to yourself.

“Keep your hands to yourself, babydoll.” Bucky whispers.

You quietly sighed and pouted, leaning back in your chair. After the ceremony and everyone applauded the newly married couple, you told Bucky you’d be right back. Meaning, you looked for an empty room for you two to have sex in. When you found one you went back to Bucky.

“Come with me.” You whispered in his ear.

You took his hand in yours and led him to the empty closet. The second Bucky closed the door, you used all of your strength to pin him against it and kissed him hungrily. Bucky was taken by surprise, but kissed you back. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you against his body.

“I need you, daddy.” You say against his lips.

Bucky moaned against your lips. He loves it when you call him daddy. You pulled away from his lips, leaving the both of you breathless and sunk down to your knees. You unbuckled his belt and undid the button and zipper of his dress pants. You pulled down his pants just enough for his hard cock to spring out. Bucky watched intensely as you wrapped your hand around his cock and lick the precum from his tip while maintaining eye contact with him. You pumped his cock in your hand a few times before putting it in your mouth. Surprisingly, you managed to fit his whole cock in your mouth. Your hands grasped onto his thighs as you began bobbing your head.

“Fuck, doll…” Bucky breathes as he watched you suck his cock. “You look so pretty when you’re on your knees.” He says.

Bucky placed his right hand on the back of your head, helping you bob your head on his cock. It took everything in him to not grab a handful of your hair and fuck your mouth. You gagged slightly when his tip hit the back of your throat. One of your hands left his thigh and went to his balls. Your fingers rubbed them before giving them a squeeze. Bucky quickly put his vibranium hand over his mouth as a loud moan fell from his lips. You were pleased with his reaction and did it again, earning the same reaction. You began to struggle to breathe so you pulled his cock out of your mouth and pumped it in your hand while looking up at your husband breathing heavily.

“You’re such a needy girl for me, aren’t you, babydoll?” Bucky says, caressing your cheek with his vibranium hand.

“I’m always needy for you, daddy.” You say, sounding innocent.

“Stand up and I’ll give you what you desperately need.” He says.

You stood up from the floor and Bucky pinned you against the door almost immediately. He kissed you hungrily while his hands roamed your body, stopping on your ass and gave it a squeeze, making you moan against his lips. His vibranium hand disappeared under your dress, finding its way to your now soaked panties. He moved your panties to the side and rubbed his vibranium fingers in between your wet folds while his thumb rubbed your clit in small circles. His vibranium middle and ring fingers circled your tight entrance before slowly sliding them in your pussy. You gasped at the cool feeling of his vibranium fingers against your walls. His fingers moved in and out of your pussy at a slow pace. You moaned softly and tilted your head back against the door, enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your pussy till you wanted more.

“Daddy…” You whined. “I want more.” You tell him. “Please!” You begged.

Bucky chuckles at your needy state before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, making your whine at the empty feeling. He picked up one of your legs and placed it on his hip. He pumped his cock in his hand a few times before rubbing his cock in between your wet folds, covering his cock in your slick. He slid his cock inside of you, inch by inch till he was balls deep inside of you. Your jaw dropped when you felt his cock stretching your pussy. Your hands grasped his shoulders when he began thrusting at a fast pace. Bucky placed his lips on your neck, his teeth nipping on your skin hard enough to leave hickeys.

“You’re always a needy little slut for me everywhere we go.” Bucky says against your skin.

“I-I can’t help it that my husband is fucking hot.” You stuttered through a moan.

That only made Bucky smirk against your neck and thrust faster. Your head fell back against the door. Your mouth fell open, a loud moan falling from your lips. Bucky quickly covered your mouth with his vibranium hand, muffling your moans.

“Shh, babydoll.” Bucky shushes you. “Don’t want your family to know what a needy little slut you are for your husband, do you?” He says.

You shook your head no. Bucky vibranium hand remained on your mouth. His right hand disappeared under your dress and made its way up to your breasts, his hand cupping one of them. His eyes widened in surprise when he found out you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Such naughty girl.” He growls softly. “Not wearing a bra. It’s like you wanted me to fuck you like this.” He says huskily.

Your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the pleasure you were receiving from his cock. Bucky caught you off guard when he pinch your nipple, making you squeak in his vibranium hand and your cunt squeezed around his cock.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “Always so tight for me.” He says.

Bucky wrapped his right arm around your waist and his vibranium hand uncovered your mouth and made its way down to your clit and began rubbing it in circles. A gasp fell from your lips when you felt the cool vibranium against your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, trying your best not to be loud.

“You like that, babydoll? You like it when daddy plays with your little clit with his vibranium fingers?” He says.

“Yes!” You moaned.

Your hands clutched the front of his suit jacket. Your eyes fluttered shut and you tilted your head back against the door, enjoying the pleasure you’re receiving from your husband. Bucky’s vibranium hand left your clit to cover your mouth when a loud moan left your lips. His cock hit your sweet spot.

“You have to be quiet, doll.” Bucky says.

You moaned into his vibranium hand in response. The perfectly trimmed hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit, stimulating it. Your orgasm began building up. Bucky wasn’t too far behind you.

“Daddy!” You moaned more in a whine.

“Tell daddy what you want, babydoll.” Bucky says huskily.

“I-I want to cum.” You whimpered. Please let me cum.” You begged.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl for me…” He brought his vibranium fingers back to your clit and rubbed it in fast circles. “Cum for daddy, doll.” He says.

You quickly kissed Bucky, moaning against his lips when you came. His thrust got sloppy as he came closer to the edge. He came inside of you after a few more thrusts. His thrusts came to a slow stop. He leaned his forehead against your bare shoulder while the two of you caught your breaths. After a moment, Bucky pulled out of you and readjusted your panties before gently placing you back on the floor. He tucked his cock back in his boxers and redid the zipper and button of his suit pants and buckled his belt. You put your hand on the door knob to open the door, but Bucky grasped the back of your neck and gave you one more kiss before leaving the closet. You two walked out of the closet like you two didn’t just fuck in there. You two walked hand and hand back to the reception. Luckily no one noticed that you two were gone for a short period of time.

“We should go soon.” Bucky whispers in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist and held you from behind. “I want to fuck you again.” He says.

“We can go after we dance for a little bit and congratulate the newlyweds.” You whispered back.

“Well then…” His hand playfully tapped your ass a couple times. “We better get on the dance floor.” He says, leading you towards the dance floor.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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gloomwitchwrites · 6 months ago

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Flower Crown

Aragorn x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, kissing, non-descriptive intimacy

Word Count: 2k

During a spring festival, the man you love returns unexpectedly.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

The sky is a cloudless, endless ocean above your head.

You breathe deep, savoring the scents in the air. Newly bloomed flowers, freshly baked bread, and roasting chicken all infiltrate your nostrils, reminding of you the celebration that’s about to begin. Anticipation buzzes under your skin like a swarm of startled bees. You’ve been waiting for this all winter. Spring is finally here, knocking, ready to be greeted. The flowers are in full bloom, and the trees have awakened from their solemn slumber.

Every year the small village in which you’ve lived your whole life celebrates the changing of the seasons. A community-wide festival is held. Each person is involved in their own way, and the duties are often assigned at the beginning of winter to allow everyone to prepare. Sometimes, these responsibilities shift, but a few remain the same.

Last year, you attended the baker in their duties to provide baked goods. This year, you were tasked with sewing new dresses for all the unmarried young women. The base fabric, an off-white cotton, remains the same. It’s like a blank page awaiting colorful paint or black ink, each dress ready to be designed with every young woman in mind. You, and several of the married women, take great care in personalizing each dress to the young ladies’ personalities.

It is not by chance that this happens. It is more than tradition. Rebirth and renewal are the themes of the festival, and with that comes an influx of weddings. The dresses are for that very reason, as a form of matchmaking, along with the presented flower crowns and the festival itself. You’ve always thought it silly but never truly commented on the matter. Fortunately, with you on sewing duties, you were able to work on your own dress.

With the dresses come flower crowns. They are given to the young women by unmarried men of the village. It is always the married women and village elders who quietly determine which man will gift what crown to who. They’re intuition is almost always correct. It is rare for a pair to not eventually marry. Sometimes it is quick, and sometimes it is years later before either realizes they belong together.

And the flower crowns are the true beauty. Another group handmakes each one. But because you know how intricate they are, you did nothing for your dress. It is simple. Plain. Just because you’re forced to be part of this tradition doesn’t mean you want to try and find a husband. You’re perfectly fine alone, because the man you do want is far away.

He isn’t avoiding you. Not on purpose. Aragorn is a ranger. He thrives in the wilds, seeking out the darkness to rid it from the world. But you do miss your wanderer. He tries to travel through your area as often as he can just to see you.

Over the years, the friendliness has grown, becoming heat and tension.

None of the other men in the village make you feel the way he does, and they likely never will.

In the shade of a tree, you smooth out the front of your dress. The tips of your fingers itch and you need to move them just to calm yourself. That alone is silly. What do you have to be nervous for? The process is always the same, always consistent, so why do you feel like this?

The young, unmarried women begin to congregate near the arch of flowers. Breathing deep, you march forward, finding your spot where it always is. You can taste the eagerness in the air. The women around you are just as nervous, nearly bouncing on their toes. They whisper to each other, giggling, but none of them glance your way or address you.

All day, and not even one has thanked you for your work.

But you won’t let it eat away at your resolve. Today is a good day. You’ll drink berry wine and gorge yourself on delicious food while listening to the married women gossip about their husbands.

As the village elders arrive, all talking ceases. That is the cue, and just like the women in line, you curtesy. You’re not allowed to look up, to glance into the face of the man who will place a crown upon your head. You keep your head bent and gaze on the ground.

There is shuffling, the rustling of hands lifting crowns. You focus on the green grass beneath your feet. You’re the only one up here not wearing shoes. You breathe in, and out, watching as so many pairs of polished boots pass by.

When someone does stop before you, the boots are not clean. They are muddy and have seen travel. You almost want to laugh but really, you’re curious. Who is this? Who would be so bold to come to the crowning with filthy boots?

In the next moment, the crown is placed upon your head. You don’t move. Don’t breathe. The stranger’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, pressing gently. You respond. You can’t resist. It is natural to do so.

Your gaze takes in this stranger as your head lifts. And when you see his face, you realize that this is no stranger at all.

“Aragorn,” you whisper, and his response is a smile.

There is applause, and good-natured cheering all around, and yet you respond to none of it. It is only him, this man you’ve been missing, standing before you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask just as the music starts up. It’s too early. Aragorn often arrives in the fall when the leaves start to change.

Others are already wandering off together or going their separate ways. You’re left staring, happy to see him but not understanding why.

“To see you,” he replies.

To see you. To see you. Whatever nervousness you felt before is gone, replaced with a giddiness that sends heat right to your cheeks.

When you don’t reply immediately, Aragorn frowns. “Have I upset you?”

“No!” You reach for him, grabbing his upper arm, taking a step forward. “Not at all. I’m just…surprised.”

His gaze softens, and you could fall into his depths. “Didn’t think I’d come?”

“You always visit when the weather begins to cool.”

“I do,” he agrees. “Couldn’t stay away.” Aragorn says this almost absently as his fingers toy with a white ribbon on your dress.

A young woman shrieks with delight, and you and Aragorn both turn as she’s hoisted in the air.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks.

The answer is immediate. “Yes.”

He presents his hand, and you take it. His palm is warm. Strong. Aragorn leads, and then you’re moving, matching the correct steps. It’s not an intense dance but it isn’t slow either.

“Did you just arrive?”

He smiles. “As they were distributing the flowers.”

“Is that why you’re so dirty?” Aragorn laughs as you lean in and sniff, making an exaggerated expression. “And smelly?”

“I thought you liked the way I smelled after a ride.” Aragorn wraps his arm around your waist, turning as he does so.

“A ride,” you correct. “Not a journey.”

The music swells, dips, and then increases in pace. You’re left focusing on your feet, going through the motions. But Aragorn knows what he’s doing, and he leads you through it effortlessly. It’s difficult to speak, but his hands do enough talking. Aragorn’s touch lingers. He might squeeze slightly or allow his hand to wander. It stirs something hot in your belly that travels lower until you’re blazing everywhere.

When the music comes to an end, and the two of you are out of breath, Aragorn places his hand on your lower waist and guides you away.

“Something to drink?”

“Please.”

Berry wine is had before Aragorn takes your hand again, the two of you strolling off into the nearby orchard. Between the trees, there is privacy, the two of you walking in gentle silence. It’s just your hand in his and the warm breeze that stirs up your dress.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say, stopping next to an apple tree. There are leaves on its branches but no blooms.

Aragorn comes to a stop beside you, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder. “Glad? That is all you feel?” With a soft touch, Aragorn turns your head in his direction. His head is angled downward, and there is no escaping what you see in his eyes.

There are times when the two of you have found a bit of quiet, some peace only with the need to explore the other. As you gaze upon his face, you are entirely aware of what he wants, but Aragorn is an honorable man. He will not push or insist on more unless you’re the one who seeks it out.

The berry wine is warm in your blood. Aragorn’s nearness is just as intoxicating. His fingers play with that same ribbon, and you lean into his touch until your noses brush lightly against each other.

“There is plenty I feel,” you reply, your voice a whisper amongst the birdsong and breeze.

“Is your heart willing to share?” Aragorn tugs lightly on the ribbon, loosening a portion of the bodice.

“Is yours willing to hear the truth?” you counter, knowing that you’d give him anything in this moment.

Aragorn tugs on the ribbon again, loosening the bodice further. Air rushes into your lungs as your chest receives a bit of freedom. “Tell me now. Under the trees. Let the sky listen.”

“You’re far too sweet to be a warrior,” you laugh, and Aragorn grins, closing the distance. The kiss is chaste and lovely, sending heat down to your toes and up to the crown of your head.

Your fingers find the front of his tunic. They curl inward, pulling of their own accord, seeking his closeness. Aragorn indulges, deepening the kiss until your bodies are pressed together. His hand rises, clutching the back of your neck. There is only you and him and your repeated meetings.

When you finally break apart, your lips are raw, and you hunger for more. You ache for deeper things, and long to tell him so.

“Is this all right?” he asks, fingers brushing against your exposed collarbone.

“Yes,” you murmur in reply, shivering under his touch.

Aragorn returns to your mouth, and you open for him. Your own fingers explore as much as his, but it is Aragorn’s fingers that venture beneath fabric.

You inhale sharply, and his hand retreats. “Apologies.”

“Don’t stop,” you say, grasping his wrist to guide his hand back to your skin.

Under the shade of the apple tree, Aragorn follows your lead, the two of you finding a dance. Although time has not been kind, keeping the two of you parted, there is no need to rush. You are happy simply existing with him, taking time to explore and savor what you’ve missed over the last few months.

Every caress is a song, and each kiss not only satiates but fuels the hunger that sits low in your belly. Fingers press and dig into skin. Clothing opens or falls away. There is no one else around, and Aragorn’s warmth is all you seek.

“Will you stay?” you ask between kisses.

Aragorn pauses, drawing back slightly. “For a few days.”

A few days. A few days with him and then separation. With Aragorn arriving now, will he return in the fall? Or will this be your new normal?

Even as these doubts swirl in your mind, you know the truth.

You don’t care.

As long as he comes, as long as he returns to you when he can, that is enough.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 6 days ago

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.⋆｡Of The Wilds｡⋆.

Robb Stark x plus size reader

Robb forgets his roots, his wife guides him back

Warnings: Robb lives au, fluff, smut but not greatly described, mention of war and arranged marriage, public sex WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The change in the air was thick, like a blanket of fog settling over Winterfell. And with it came the responsibility of winter. Robb had seen his father bear this burden and now it was his to carry. Stoke up the stores of dried meats from the autumn hunts, ensure the battlements were armed, the townsfolk had adequate wood for their hearths, and make sure that what remained of his family would be warm and fed for what he was expecting to be the longest winter the North had experienced since his forefathers. At least he would not have to journey to what remained of the wall.

He constantly questioned if he was doing things correctly, if he was doing enough. The cold nipped at his soul, a warning of what was to come and what would happen if he failed. Jon and Sana offered their help but Robb refused. He wanted them to recover and enjoy the last freedom they would get until the snows slowed and the sun returned.

“You’re going to work yourself to death before winter is really here.”

“I will rest when everything is done.” He replied, earning him an indigent huff.

“You are being stubborn, my king.” His quill stopped. He could almost feel your smirk.

“I am doing my duty, there’s a difference.” The smell of lavender invaded his senses as you curled yourself around his shoulders, as did the hint of wine upon your breath. Your soft hands delved into the cut of his shirt, seeking out the warmth of his body so shamelessly it made a longing begin to stir in his gut.

Your lips fit perfectly into the crook of his neck, kissing softly at the small scar right by his pulse. “What about your duty as a husband?” He suppressed a shiver when your touch travelled lower.

“I would say that I fulfilled that this morning.” Your nails dug into his stomach and Robb couldn’t help but release a groan. You smiled against his skin, pressing your soft body as close as you could to your husband’s back.

“That was yesterday my love, dawn will break soon. You need to get out of this room, for my sake at least.” You pulled back, keeping contact with his skin until the tips of your fingers rested at the nape of his neck. Suddenly, the chill of the room seemed much colder. Robb finally turned to face you.

The horizon was lined with a pale pink, illuminating your figure just so that he could see the outline of your curves through your night dress. Your eyes were bleary with exhaustion but your smile was just as bright as it had ever been. Just as it had been on your wedding day; in the mud of a field in the South, right before his army stormed King’s Landing. Something throbbed in his chest.

“Come.” You ordered, holding out a hand for him to take. He slipped from his seat and the warmth returned to his bones. The halls of Winterfell were still sleeping as you led him down past the tapestries and stones. Robb knew he should turn you down, that he still had so much left to do but the feeling of your hand in his, the way that you moved, all he wanted to do was drag you into bed and make due on his promises.

Robb’s brows pulled together as you guided him towards the narrow staircase he knew led outside. “And where are you taking me, wife?” You just looked back at him and smiled.

It was colder at the bottom of the stairs, little flakes of snow drifted in from where the heavy wooden door had been propped open by a familiar paw. Robb could’ve scoffed as you pulled the door open the rest of the way, revealing the light grey fur of what was supposed to be his loyal companion.

“I thought I had ordered that he was to remain in the kennels at night.” Greywind’s tail thumped against the snow as you stroked the top of his great head, almost looking sheepish.

“You said that yes but you seem to forget that I am queen, and more importantly, he is a very good boy.” The direwolf stood and walked off into the snow, glancing back at you a couple times as he followed the path to the Godswood. Robb looked at you just in time to see you pull two fur cloaks from behind a wood pile.

“How long have you been planning this?” He asked, taking the offered cloak from your hand with a playful scowl.

The fur wrapped around your shoulders, concealing your body from Robb’s hungry gaze. He shook off the snowflakes from his curls and followed suit. “How do you think I got everyone to leave you alone today?”

“Sansa.” He answered, now acutely aware of how his little sister had been steadily stealing some of his duties for the past week. Your fingers tangled with his once more.

The dark silhouettes of the trees called to him, a wolf’s howl that he was compelled to return. And though the sky was growing lighter, there was no colour that accompanied the sun, leaving the King and Queen of the North wandering the still landscape as if in a dream. Greywind vanished between the branches and trunks, his footsteps creating a trail for them to follow.

Robb was grateful that his wife remained silent as you walked, as much as he loved you and worshipped you, you were a symptom of what rested upon his shoulders. Your marriage, while now carved from love, was originally from duty— your father had an army and you had support. Your children would be princes and princesses, the legacy of your house would be carved into stone rather than paper.

Your touch kept him grounded, your voice the sound of reason, your smile the guiding light through the storm of politics and war. He let you pull him through the woods until the familiar sight of the Godswood revealed itself to you.

You came to a stop at the base of the great tree, where Greywind was already waiting for you both, his blue eyes observing you with a human understanding. The snow shifted as you turned to Robb. “What are we doing here so early in the morn?”

“You’ve forgotten yourself, Robb Stark. You have conquered Westeros, paved the path for a new, fair dynasty. You’ve defeated the strongest and most well-armed army that has ever existed using only your wits and your charm.” Your grip on his hand tightened and you stepped closer. Your breath fogged up between you. “You became Warden of the North, then King. You helped the right woman regain her throne while giving freedom to your people.”

Your cold hand cupped his jaw, stroking the stubble that he let grow far longer than he should’ve. “But above all of that; you are a Stark. A wolf, a man who upholds his vows. You were forged from the winter and ice yet you blaze like dragon fire for those you love and I find myself so lucky that I get to be one of those rare few. So, we are here to remind you of just who you are.”

The kiss began slowly, your lips brushing against his but when Robb grabbed your wide hip with a crushing grip heat exploded within you. His tongue licked at your bottom lip as you both sank to your knees. You planted a hand upon his shoulder, encouraging him to lay back but Robb refused to budge, instead he gently laid you down, the fur keeping the snow from freezing your body.

Your legs parted, letting your husband nestle his hips against yours. You undid the ties of his trousers with an adeptness that betrayed your desperation. “So needy my love? One might think you enjoy being taken in the snow like an animal.”

“Like a wolf.” You moaned back, letting out a gasp as he breached you. Pleasure shot up his spine.

Robb rut into you like a dog, desperate, wild, right. It felt so raw but he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t, because you were right. This was who he is. You pulled him closer, your lips fitting to his ear.

“My wolf.” Your cries vanished into the dawn.

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Batting Practice Part 30 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You only get two nights alone with Bradley in Palm Springs, and you're determined to enjoy every minute of your honeymoon. Bradley isn't so sure how you'll feel about the gifts he bought for you, but you light up when you see them. While the weekend felt too short, going home means you both get to see Everett again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, smut

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley held your hand the entire way to Palm Springs as the two of you softly shared your ideas for the future. It was dark outside, and there was no traffic, making for a peaceful ride. You had changed out of your wedding dress into some leggings and one of his tee shirts, but you still looked as beautiful as you had earlier at the ballpark when he slipped your wedding band on your finger. Right now you were talking about going to Disney World when Everett had a school break, but the details didn't matter to Bradley. He was happy going anytime you wanted.

"I've never been to Florida. I've barely been out of California, and even then, just for work conferences in Minneapolis in the middle of winter," you told him, rubbing your soft fingers along his rough ones. "But you've been everywhere."

Bradley contemplated his response for a beat. Sure, he'd been all over the world with the navy. He'd seen a lot and been able to act the part of a tourist at times, too. But he'd never experienced this before. "Yeah," he agreed, turning down a desert road. "But this is the first time I've had a home since I was a kid, Kitten. I'll take you and Ev anywhere you want to go, happily. And then we can return home where everything is perfect. Home is where the Phillies room is."

Your laughter filled the Bronco as the lights of Palm Springs came into view between the mountains. Bradley navigated the last few miles to the hotel, and then he helped you out before grabbing both bags. The night was cool, and you had goosebumps on your arms when he touched you there, but your lips were warm and inviting. "I love you," he whispered. "Let's go to our room."

He wasn't sure if it was the chilly air that made you shiver or his words, but he was planning on showing you how many different ways he could love you over the next two days. Emotionally and physically. It only took a minute to get checked into the small boutique hotel, and then you were leading the way to the room, occasionally grinning at him over your shoulder.

As soon as that door was closed and you said, "Oh, look how pretty-" Bradley had his mouth on yours as he pushed you up against the door. "Coach," you gasped, pliant in his arms as his hands found their way up inside your shirt.

"You feel so good. So soft," he whispered, voice harsh as you started to pull the shirt over your head. As you stood there in your white lace bra, nipples peaked against the decadent looking fabric, he said, "You're my wife."

The way your body arched into his as your head tipped back against the door made his eyes go wide. He wrapped his big hands around your hips and hauled you to bed, pressing you down underneath his bodyweight as he dipped his hand into the elastic waistband of your pants. You were so wet. He shouldn't have been surprised. And now you were getting a little loud as he stroked your clit. That didn't really surprise him either.

"I like you loud," he grunted, taking a minute to wrench your tight pants down your legs and drop them to the floor. You were perfect, writhing around, gasping his name in your white thong and matching bra. When you reached for him, he tried to slow his pace, tried to get himself undressed, but he just couldn't.

So the first time he made love to you after you got married, Bradley still had his jeans mostly on, and your pretty panties were pushed to the side to accommodate him. He managed to get your bra off as you ran your hands along his neck and up into his hair, and then you pulled his shirt off for him. But the urgency to be with you was still there. He hoped it never went away.

"I love you, Coach," you gasped, keening loudly as he sucked on your tits and got you off with his fingers and his cock. And then he came for you, messing up your thong when he withdrew, watching his cum seep out of you and onto the bedding.

"We're gonna destroy this room," he whispered, taking in your body and the way you were gently stroking your tits in the aftermath.

You bit your lip and watched him stand at the foot of the bed. "Let me know when you're ready again. I have an idea for that couch."

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

As soon as you got cleaned up from round one with Bradley's undershirt back on, you dug around in your overnight bag. And then it became abundantly clear that Molly packed your overnight bag with a specific agenda in mind. Yeah, she packed your toothbrush, face wash and makeup. Sure, she packed your phone charger and vitamins. But when it came to clothing, all you had with you was your leopard print bathing suit, one of Molly's bodycon dresses, and lingerie. And more lingerie. And new lingerie that you'd never even seen before.

"Bradley!" you called out to your newly minted husband who was in the bathroom. You stormed over to the door and pushed it open to reveal him washing his hands.

"Yeah, Baby?"

"Why did you let Molly pack my bag?"

He gave you a funny look. "I thought she'd know better about what you'd want to bring here than I would."

You laughed and shook your head. "She packed it for you. Not me. There's nothing in there except sexy underwear and one skin tight dress."

Bradley's grin grew as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm gonna thank her right now."

"When I'm wearing an inappropriately short dress to dinner tomorrow night, that's on you and her," you told him, strolling out onto the balcony that overlooked the pool.

But he was right behind you, pressing himself against your back as you leaned against the railing and looked out over the desert lit up by moonlight. "This dress? How short we talking?"

You pushed your butt back against him and whispered, "You'll think my pussy is on your dinner menu."

The way he groaned in your ear and wrapped his arm around you left little doubt in your mind that he was ready for round two. "How about for a midnight snack?" he asked, reaching beneath the shirt you were wearing and running his rough hand up your thigh. His lips and breath were hot on your neck as you wiggled your butt. He hissed, "I want you."

"You just had me," you replied, biting your lip as you watched the few people below who were having a late night swim. And then he was slipping one long finger down along your slit and pushing it inside your pussy, still messy with his cum from a little bit ago.

"Well, I want you again." He was kissing the side of your neck now as you contemplated whether or not it was a good idea to do this on the balcony. "How could I not want my sexy wife?"

Okay, so you were going to let him fuck you on the balcony.

While your room didn't have any exterior lights shining, it wasn't so dark up here that you were completely hidden. And the wrought iron railing wasn't going to help hide much, but you were already getting excited just thinking about it. When you bent a little more at the waist so your bare butt and thighs were rubbing against the front of his shorts, you looked at him over your shoulder and whispered, "You wanna?"

With a groan so loud you were afraid the people in the pool might look up, he withdrew his finger from your pussy. "I wanna." And then you squeaked as he wrapped his forearm around your belly and ground himself against you. "You gotta keep quiet, Kitten." And then he bent you a little more, and you could feel the cool night air on your slick opening before he yanked down his shorts and filled you up.

You weren't prepared to take him right then all at once, and Bradley had to cover your mouth immediately as you braced your hands on the railing.

"I love it when you get loud," he grunted next to your ear as he started thrusting. When you licked his palm, paying special attention to his wedding band, he slipped two fingers inside your mouth. "But that should keep you quiet."

Bradley fucked you so hard and fast while you watched everyone in the pool, you were ready to cum after a few minutes. His fingers had you literally drooling, but his mouth was on your neck, and he was whispering how good you were for him.

"You gonna cum, Kitten? I can tell you are." His voice was ragged now as he squeezed your breasts through the shirt, stroking your nipples with just enough pressure that he had to add a third finger to your mouth to keep your moaning quiet. And then you came on his cock, legs shaking and back arched, drowning in the pleasure he was giving you.

"I'm close," he whispered. "You can take it." Then he withdrew his fingers and grabbed your hips with both hands and fucked you even harder. When he came, you bit your lip. There was a couple getting out of the pool, and they glanced around as Bradley finished. He slipped out of you, his warm cum coating your inner thighs as you stood. You kept yourself in front of him as the couple glanced your way briefly, but Bradley was too busy singing your praises next to your ear to notice.

"I can't believe we did that," you said with a shy smile as you spun to face him.

Bradley smirked as he tucked himself back into his shorts. "I still want to know what you have planned for the couch."

"Maybe I'll show you tomorrow."

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

Bradley woke up the next morning with your naked body wrapped around him and a strip of sunlight streaming in through the sliding glass door. Your diamond ring was sending little bursts of color along the ceiling and the walls as it reflected the light, and the splotches of orange and green and purple danced across your face as you started to move. Your long eyelashes fluttered as you opened your eyes, and your lips curved into a smile just for him.

"I love you, Coach," you whispered, the reflected colors moving down your body before you slid your hand away and leaned up to kiss him.

He cupped your cheek and whispered, "Mrs. Bradshaw," between kisses.

It was just a few seconds before you were riding him, putting on a show and letting him touch you all over. Bradley loved the visual of you sliding up and down his cock, getting a little louder with each motion. "You're gorgeous," he groaned, caressing your thighs and hips with his big hands. "I can't believe I have a wife. A fucking MILF at that."

You laughed and leaned down to kiss him, anchoring your hands against his shoulders as you continued to fuck him just right. When you and he were spent, you were draped across him again while he was still buried inside you. "I'm hungry," you whispered, kissing his neck.

"Room service? I wasn't really planning on sharing you with anyone else until dinner."

You pouted up at him as he played with your paw print charm. "I want to go in the pool."

He nodded. "I'd kind of like to see what our balcony looks like from down there. I swear that couple last night saw us." Your soft moan let him know what he suspected; you found it more sexy than upsetting that someone may have seen part of that. Some knowledge to keep tucked away for next time. "Let's go check out the cafe."

"You're so funny," you told him, easing yourself out of bed and leaving his messy cock resting against his abs. "I. Don't. Have. Any. Clothing."

Bradley laughed as he stood as well. "Put your sexy leopard print bathing suit on, jungle kitten. The pool bar will serve us food."

He watched you pull on your bathing suit as you muttered some unfriendly things about Molly. "At least she gave me flip flops."

"You can always buy something from one of the shops downstairs," Bradley said, lacing his fingers with yours and coaxing you down to the lobby.

But what started as a search for a dress or a cute outfit for you quickly turned into something for Bradley and Everett.

"Check it out!" he said, holding up a child's size baseball jersey that said Palm Springs Vintage League. "They have some for adults, too."

You flipped over the price tag and balked. "Ev doesn't need it for two hundred dollars."

Bradley frowned. "But he and I could match. All three of us could, if you want one too, Kitten."

"He'll outgrow it by next year."

He stood there and just stared at you. He had a son now. Kids outgrew things as they got older. The thought was really unsettling to him as he held up the little jersey, much like the Bradshaw one that you had gifted to him yesterday. It was adorable, and Everett would love it. "I don't even know what size he wears," Bradley muttered, checking the tag for a different reason.

"He's usually a 7/8," you replied casually. But when Bradley went silent again, you asked, "What's wrong?"

He swallowed hard and said, "I just... don't know that kind of stuff about him. You know? I feel like I know a lot. Like I try to pay attention. I know what he likes and doesn't like. I know that he loves the Phillies and science class and pancakes and swimming. I know that he doesn't have any allergies, because it was on his fact sheet for tee ball." You wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed her sternum though his shirt. "But, Kitten... I didn't know what size he wears. And I don't know his blood type or anything like that. What if something happens to him when he's with me? What if there's something important I should know and I fuck it up?"

"His blood type is A negative," you said, squeezing him a little tighter as he gripped the hanger in his hand. "And you're not going to fuck anything up, Bradley."

"I accidentally taught him a bad word last week. And I accidentally kind of told him what a sugar daddy does."

You burst into laughter against his chest, shaking in his arms as you tried to calm down. "Okay, but that's not the end of the world. And honestly, both of those are pretty funny now when I think about them. But you care about Ev so much. You went and got him from Danny's house when I called you."

He kissed your forehead. "Don't talk about Danny," he growled. "Hate him."

"See? You're nothing like him at all! You think Danny knew Everett's blood type? Or what size he wore? The difference is, Danny didn't care to know those things at all. You do. And you'll catch on to more now that you live with us."

Bradley nodded and took a deep breath. And when he left the shop holding your hand after purchasing three of the jerseys, you didn't complain about the price at all.

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

After you ate brunch on an oversized lounge chair next to the mid century modern pool with Bradley, you fell asleep while he watched the Padres recap on his phone. Your body was sore from last night, but he kept his arm wrapped around you, stroking your skin softly with his fingertips.

As you dozed on and off, you muttered to Bradley, "Will you text Molly or Bob and check on Ev? And see how Ev's future cousin is doing?"

"Already did about an hour ago," he replied, taking your hand and kissing your fingers. "All good. Ev and Bob went on a hike. And apparently Molly ate some vegetables for the baby but washed them down with gummy bears."

"That sounds right," you murmured, yawning and stretching. "You wore me out, Coach."

Bradley looked at you from under the bill of his cap. "I thought you promised me that your pussy was on my dinner menu."

The waiter who was walking by snickered, and you tried to hide your face. "Bradley," you groaned.

"Well, is it on my dinner menu or not, Kitten? I'm starving for it."

"You're insatiable."

"It's our honeymoon. But I'm going to take you on a longer trip just the two of us. Because as much as I love Ev and want to know everything about him, I love you, too. And I love my dinner menu."

You ended up jumping in the pool to get him to stop, but he came splashing in right behind you. When he swam over to you, he grabbed you and you clung into him. "Remember the tee ball pool party?" you asked as he swiped his hair back from his forehead.

"Remember it? Kitten, that was our first kiss."

You bit your lip and pressed the tip of your nose to his. "Got a little spicy in the clubhouse kitchen."

"Bob caught us," he said with a smirk, wrapping his arms around your waist and carrying you over to the side of the pool. "He knew I was head over heels."

"I was so embarrassed!"

"And just think, pretty soon he'll probably be your brother-in-law. Uncle Bob."

You smothered his face in kisses and said, "I love my family."

And you really meant it, even as you were squeezing into the stretchy bodycon dress Molly had packed so you could go to dinner. It didn't look as good on you as it did on her, but it honestly wasn't terrible.

"Holy shit," Bradley grunted. "Molly needs to let you borrow that indefinitely."

You rolled your eyes. "She's going to want it back. I'm sure Bob-"

"Do not finish that sentence!" he practically shouted. "I want to enjoy the erection I'm going to have later, okay?"

You started laughing as you covered your mouth with your hand. "Let me finish my makeup, and then we can go." You touched up your mascara and your lipstick. Okay, now you did look pretty hot. Tight red dress. Red lips. Dark eye makeup.

"Ready?" you asked, strolling out of the bathroom and slipping your feet into your black heels. Your eyes settled on a wrapped box that was placed on the foot of the bed. "What's that?"

Bradley's smirk made your heart race. "Just a little something I got for you. For us."

You pressed your lips together. "Am I allowed to open it now?"

But he shook his head. "It's strictly for after dinner, Kitten."

Your mind was racing. Maybe he got you some kind of new lingerie? Or a toy? You thought of so many sexy things as he led you downstairs to the restaurant with his hand on your butt.

When you looked up at him through your lashes, he whispered, "You look perfect." The thing was, you felt perfect. You had never felt a fraction of this love and excitement with Danny. You never felt starved for attention now, and neither did Everett. You felt adored and listened to and understood. It made you want to do something crazy like drop to your knees and give him a blowjob in the elevator.

You managed to hold it together as you did have to ride down to the wine cellar restaurant with an elderly couple. But just barely. You let your knuckles graze Bradley's cock through his pants with intent. And he grunted in response, his pupils blown wide.

"Just wait, Kitten." His voice sounded threatening, and you had to squeeze your thighs together. And that feeling didn't improve as you and he sat side by side with glasses of merlot and an enormous steak that you shared along with countless sides and crusty bread that made your mouth water.

"I love it here," you told him before he fed you some steak from his fork. "This is my favorite dinner. And the wine is incredible."

He kissed your cheek and let his lips and mustache trail back closer to your ear. "Get as tipsy as you want, Baby. But don't get drunk. I'm going to need your consent for what's in that little box on the bed, okay?"

A shiver ran through your body as you turned to face him. He had his hand on your thigh, tucked up underneath the tiny dress, and his mustache felt rough against the shell of your ear.

"Okay," you agreed. But after another glass of wine, you could barely keep your lips off of him in the dimly lit restaurant. You were honestly so ready to go back to the room when he held up a dessert menu.

"What would you like?" he asked, stroking your leg. "I'll be having your pussy for dessert, but why don't you pick out something sweet to take back up to the room?"

You couldn't remember what you ordered, but it must have been cheesecake. You were holding the to-go container and rubbing yourself all over Bradley in the elevator twenty minutes later. He had lipstick on his shirt collar, and the top few buttons were undone. He was flushed a pretty shade of pink, and you arrived back at your floor just as your hand went to the button on his pants.

The wine went to your head, but you weren't quite drunk. But it was hard to walk in your heels now, so Bradley carried you as you held your cheesecake. "Are you gonna fuck me, Coach?" you asked when he reached the door and unlocked it with one hand.

He kissed you and set you down as the door closed behind you. "I want to, Kitten. But first, I'm going to get changed, and then you can open that box, okay?"

You nodded and watched him undress before pulling on just a pair of gray sweatpants. "Why are you putting clothes back on?" you whined stomping one high heel on the floor.

He chuckled and shrugged. "It's gonna be a minute before we get down to it. And I don't want to distract you, Baby. Now come here." He pulled you closer by your hips before letting his hands slide down to the bottom of the dress. Slowly, he pulled the fabric up your body and over your head. You moaned, completely bare for him. "Fucking gorgeous," he whispered, running his fingers down the valley between your breasts.

When you tried to kick your heels off, you whined his name, "Bradley, please. I want to open the box." The gold wrapping paper looked so enticing.

"In a minute," he promised, kissing your shoulder. "How do you feel about keeping the high heels on?"

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "I'll keep them on for you."

"They'll match perfectly," he crooned, sucking gently on your neck. "With these." He reached for the box and handed it to you, his cheeks still flushed with pink.

But now your husband looked a little apprehensive as you tore into the gold paper and gently removed the top of the box. You gasped, gaping up at him before looking back down at the pretty burgundy velvet with gold accents. "You want me to...wear these?" you asked him in barely a whisper.

He ran his hands slowly up and down your sides. "Yes. The collar has your name on it."

You set the box on the bed and pulled out the matching collar and leash. There was a charm dangling off the collar. Mrs. Bradshaw.

"But only if you want to, Kitten," Bradley reassured you in his sweet voice.

You let the warm velvet and the cool metal meet your hands for a few seconds. They were pretty. You liked them. You liked the idea of wearing them. When you looked up at him, you held your hands out. "Put them on me?"

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

Bradley was actually living in his wildest fantasy at the moment. He was married. To you. He had a home and a family. And he was very gently tightening a collar around your neck while he placed soft kisses to your bare shoulder.

"Fuck," he groaned, pulling away to get a good look. You were nibbling nervously on your lip, your hand coming up to feel the charm. The tag. You were tagged with his name. His cock was so hard in his sweatpants, he thought he might cum right now. And he hadn't even finished clasping the leash to your pretty collar yet.

Both were a deep red velvet, so satisfying looking against his skin. And once the leash was hooked on, he was throbbing.

"How do I look, Coach?"

"Mmm, you look like my sexy Kitten. Will you let me take some pictures of this? Maybe a little video? Use it to get me through my next deployment."

"Of course," you said, rubbing yourself against him as he held his camera up and took a few photos.

"God damn," he groaned. "You look incredible, Baby." Then you took the end of the leash and put it in his hand.

"Don't be too rough," you whispered, kissing the corner of his lips.

"Never, Kitten," he promised, backing up toward the couch. As soon as you felt the tug, you followed him, your high heels clicking across the marble floor tiles. He loved the sound of it. He loved the look of you. And when he sank down onto the couch, he took a few more photos before tossing his phone aside. "Come on up here," he whispered, rubbing his thigh. "I know you like this."

You were practically purring as you straddled his thigh and eased yourself down so your perfect pussy was resting on his sweatpants. Bradley shortened the leash and yanked softly until your tits bounced and you slid higher on his leg. And then you started to grind, and Bradley kissed along your collar as he kept the leash taut.

"I knew your pussy would be on the menu."

When you let our head tip back, he pulled a little harder on the leash so you were whining as he cupped your ass. "This is exactly what I wanted to do on the couch."

"God, Kitten. You're a dream come true."

He let you lean forward to kiss his lips and play with the hair at the back of his neck. You tasted like wine. Your nipples were hard. Your pussy was soaking his pants. Intoxicating.

Then you whispered, "I'm your pet," before you delicately licked his mustache.

"Jesus Christ," he grunted as you licked his cheek and his ear like a cat. You were the hottest thing he'd ever witnessed, and you were riding his thigh. "Lick my cock," he commanded, tugging on your leash until you were forced down between his legs.

You looked up at him and then started to lick at the wet spot you left on his pants, and Bradley was helpless to force you to stop. Your tits were bouncing as you licked up your silky wetness before reaching for the elastic band and pulling his pants down. You pulled his sweatpants clean off of him and wrapped both hands around his aching cock. His tip was so red, it looked purple.

When Bradley yanked on the leash, you licked the underside of his tip and looked up at him. Every little kitten lick sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He was panting your name as sweat broke out on his face and chest. "You're the hottest thing I've ever seen, Baby." Truly, the sight before him was almost too much. He reached for his phone again and started recording a video.

You looked at the camera, licking him with short strokes of your tongue and smiling a little sheepishly. "Tell me, who's big cock are you licking, Kitten?"

Then you whimpered and said, "My husband's."

"A little louder, Baby," he said, snapping the leash, making you whine.

"My husband's big cock!"

"God, I love you." Now you were taking him between your lips and sucking on him. He let you go for a few minutes, enjoying the sight of that little gold charm hitting your perfect skin as you bobbed and gagged. But he knew what else he wanted to do as he set his phone down again.

When he yanked on your leash, you responded instantly, releasing him from your mouth with a little pop. "Go climb up on the bed, Kitten." He let the leash out a bit so you could stand, and then he stood and pulled you toward the bed. "You like this, don't you?"

"I love it," you replied with a grin before you crawled up onto the bed on your hands and knees. You knew what to do. You presented him with your ass and pussy. You were his pet right now. His very well behaved pet. His cock was still wet from your saliva, and when he pushed himself inside you, he yanked that leash back.

"Bradley!" you screeched, barely able to keep your hands on the bedding with how he was making your back arch.

"You can do it, Baby. I know you can." As he stood there and fucked you, he watched you spread your legs a little wider. Your back arched beautifully. Your fingertips scraped for purchase on the bedding. "That's it."

Bradley fucked you so hard as he pulled on the leash, you couldn't even talk. But you were grinding back into him as you made little sounds. He was addicted to this. He let his free hand come up to rest on your lower back before easing it down along your ass. So close. He was so close. Your pussy was gripping him, and it was the most beautiful sight. He could watch this all night long. But he was going to cum.

He let go of the leash, grabbing at both hips as he started to slow his thrusts down. "Fuck!" he barked leaning down to kiss along your collar. And he filled you up, rubbing his hands along that pretty ass before watching his cum drip out of your pussy and onto the bedding.

You rolled onto your back and reached for him, that Mrs. Bradshaw charm shining in the lamplight. When you made no more to unclip the least or take off the collar, Bradley crawled onto the bed next to you. "I love you," he whispered, gathering you against him with so many kisses, feeling your high heel graze his calf.

"We'll do that again, right?" you asked, raking your fingers through his hair.

"Whenever you want it," he promised. "I'd give you anything. You must know that."

You closed your eyes and smiled. "Feed me the cheesecake."

A minute later, Bradley was sitting back against the headboard with your back pressed to his chest. He had his arms wrapped around you, holding the fork and the container, and you were taking bites and moaning softly. You were still wearing your collar.

"I can't believe we have to go home tomorrow." You opened your mouth for more of your dessert.

"I miss Ev," he whispered, earning a kiss to his chin. "And I can't have him riding around in Bob's truck too much, or he might start to like it better than the Bronco."

"Never," you gasped, and Bradley fed you the last bite. Then you yawned, and he helped you get ready for bed. "You wore me out again, Coach."

"We're just getting started."

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

Late the next morning, after a very leisurely room service breakfast and sex in the shower, you and Bradley were on the road back to San Diego. Your body was so sore, and you were wearing Bradley's gray sweatpants and one of his undershirts. Molly really was the best sister in the world for only packing you the necessities.

You had your hand resting on Bradley's on the seat between you while you sipped some coffee. The radio was playing an oldies station, and Bradley knew all the words. The desert was giving way to some suburbs and you thought you should text Molly and Bob and let them know you'd be there soon.

When Bradley flipped his hand over and tightened his grip on yours, you turned to him with an expectant look. His voice was deep and steady as he said, "So what's the plan? How soon can I adopt Ev?"

Your heart was so full that now it was overflowing. "I'll call my lawyer tomorrow."

"First thing tomorrow," he replied with a smile. "Thanks for sharing your son with me."

You wanted to thank Bradley for loving Everett, but as tears stung your eyes, you just couldn't. Because this was just simply what you and Ev should have had all along. Now you were both getting top tier adoration, but you deserved nothing less.

"Yeah," you whispered, leaning across the seat to kiss his cheek while he drove. "I'll call first thing in the morning."

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

Just sitting here thinking about Coach Bradley wearing a collar and leash of his very own. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 31

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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chimielie · 7 months ago

Text

i swear that i will hate you 'till forever

summary: Yaku x F!Reader. sometimes divorce is what you really need to strengthen a marriage

word count: 1.2k

cw: angst, alcohol, pr marriage gone extremely wrong, yaku is older by six years, reader is a socialite with no life skills or healthy coping mechanisms, yaku also has no healthy coping mechanisms, no one in this story is doing well, The Judgment of God Himself, also blasphemy

a/n: heeey long time no see. i actually genuinely don't know when i wrote this, i'm just emptying my drafts of all the half-written fics i have locked in jail. i do still like this concept a lot so shoot me an ask if you want to know more about what i had planned for the full thing :)

Morisuke hates weddings.

He stares up at God, who is trapped in a little circle in a bigger circle, surrounded by gorgeous, centuries-old paintings of angels and saints and little red devils. Everything is gold, the flickering light of hanging chandeliers shining down to gild a rapt audience, even as the real people seem to pale in comparison to their artistically rendered counterparts. Standing here, surrounded by ornate displays of divinity, Morisuke has never felt so wealthy in spirit and physicality. He wasn’t raised in this religion, nor was he ever baptized into it as an adult, but he doesn’t find a seed of objection in himself he’d though he would. The icon he thinks is God looks both mournful and benevolent. All the shining things make Morisuke feel as though he’s looking into a mirror.

The people rustle, whispering among themselves. A stray string instrument sounds, alone and twanging into a silence far greater than itself, and Morisuke almost misses it when the orchestra starts up moments later. He has a headache, the kind that gets worse because he’s so irritated that he has one at all.

He looks down and away from God, straight into the blinding flash of a camera. His only reaction is a slight narrowing of the eyes, the closest he’s come to flinching in years. When the spots clear from his vision, you’re there, an angel from the fresco come to life, a goddess in the church.

Morisuke folds his hands. It feels only right to pray, the way he’s seen it on television, the way some of his teammates do before matches. You stare at him as you walk down the aisle, light playing over your dress in shining bursts that make his head throb harder. He can’t find any bridal tears in your eyes.

He shifts in his dress shoes, fights not to run his hands through his carefully-styled hair. The air-conditioning is too strong, meant to keep a thousand pressed-together people from overheating, or perhaps it’s the winter air leaking in through the great doors. You reach the stairs to the altar, wobbling a little on your first step up, though the movement is so minuscule anyone but him wouldn’t have noticed. Without thinking, Morisuke reaches a hand out to steady you. Your fingers press hard into the flesh of his palm, gripping him bruisingly tight. He can barely pull his hand away fast enough. The music stops, and Morisuke takes in a deep breath, while your chest doesn’t move to inhale or exhale. This is the last moment before you are knotted together irrevocably for life. A groom who hates weddings for a bride who doesn’t cry.

one year, eight months later

If you tilt your head up and almost close your eyes so that you’re looking through your lashes, you can pretend that you’re floating among the stars. You do so, walking backwards, tipping champagne down your throat as you go, trying to envision yourself as a constellation. You’re pretty sure you are one—Morisuke’s gift to you on your birthday, the first one after you’d married. The tabloids had eaten it up. You, watching him board a plane through the social media stories of your so-called friends, hadn’t felt quite as romanced as your picture in the news claimed.

You had forgotten about the constellation. Perhaps it had stuck in your subconscious, though; it was awfully romantic. Perhaps that’s why you had chosen the planetarium as a venue for tonight, though in the light of day it had been the midnight blue velvet and shadowy, domed ceilings that had cinched it for you. But you throw a lot of parties, and you don’t need any more sentiment in your life than what you’re currently suffocating under. You’ll come back on your own, you decide, finishing off your glass and plucking another from the nearest hand to you. You like being lost amongst your guests, freewheeling in space even without oxygen to breathe.

You stumble as you continue your backwards, meandering path through the party. You kick off your shoes, lab-grown crystals chipping off as they bounce. You don’t notice. You’ll buy more. You could buy the whole stupid world, with your husband’s money that he throws at you so he doesn’t have to come home and face you. Your husband who leaves you alone to do whatever you please. Alone, dancing among the stars.

Morisuke was twenty-eight when he proposed to you; you had just turned twenty-two when you said yes. You had been officially seeing each other for three months and acquaintances for nearly a year prior.

The story of your first meeting the interviewers knew was one you and your husband had told many times. A mutual friend had introduced you at a high-profile event and said, blatantly, that the two of you should “make babies.” Morisuke was smooth; you were flirtatious. The story played out like a romantic comedy, ending in a fairytale wedding.

You and he had kept the real story for yourselves, to take out and admire in times of trouble, to tuck away in your pocket like a note between secret lovers.

You were running through a rose-garden maze, eyes over your shoulder, hands fisted in your skirts. He had been walking a perpendicular path to yours (looking for someone else, another lover, you’d later learn) when you had tripped right over him, tumbling head over heels through the flora and into a new sector. Your breath knocked out of you, it was all you could do to stare up at the sky and try to laugh.

“Miss?” He’d called, ducking through the opening, pushing stray rose canes away. “Miss! Are you alright?”

He sounded so formal. You accepted his hand up, but only pulled yourself into a sitting position, trying desperately to catch your breath. He was so handsome, it was making things much harder. Inconsiderate of him, you thought

“I’m fine,” you managed, eventually. “Are you?”

“No more bruised than usual,” he’d returned, teasing. You cocked a brow. “I’m an athlete. I dive face-first onto hardwood floors all day."

For reasons you couldn’t recognize, you’d taken his hand, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt. His forearm toward the elbow had a nasty bruise, as he had said. You ran a careful finger over the discoloration, and he hissed.

“How was my form?”

“Awful,” he said frankly. “But—“ He’d seemed to get lost there, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the clouds and played across your features. With all the raw honesty of someone saying something they hadn’t even known they were thinking, he opened his mouth and said: “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

On a slight breeze, the petals you’d knocked off drifted around the two of you, catching on his shirt, in your hair. They pooled between you, and when you ducked your head down they were all you could see.

You fell in love during that first meeting.

He never fell in love with you at all.

#yaku x reader #yaku morisuke x reader #yaku angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader angst

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f10werfae · 2 years ago

Text

Kissies and Waxed

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Short!Shy!Wife!Reader

summary: Y/n gets all shy and adorable with her grumpy husband on their wedding night, letting him enjoy his waxed present(Dom Henry) (requested by anon)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Come on sugar, no need to be shy, m’your husband now. Seen your pretty pussy a handful a’times” Henry grumbled tugging on the laced back of his wife’s wedding gown, his lips dragging themselves down her neck and exposed shoulders. His larger hands coming round to subtly cup her breasts, giving them a light squeeze and jiggle.

“D-do I havta get butt naked?” She cutely whispered out, wrapping her arms around her smaller stature, her french tip nails highlighting their elegance. Having dated for a few months then eloping, Henry had definitively manoeuvred his way into her sweet tight pussy repeatedly; but for some reason tonight she was feeling shyer than normal.

“I mean i’d love to see ya, but it’s up to you” Henry chuckled, already pulling down the top of her dress, even with his words. “But you can trust me honey, don’t you trust me? love me?” Henry frowned furrowing his brows, making eye contact with her wide eyes through the mirror, the poor woman not noticing his manipulative tone.

“W-what! Of course I do! I promise I do Hen! Please forgive me” Y/n whimpered turning around in his arms, instantly feeling at ease when his burly arms wrapped around her short frame, his head resting atop hers. “I know you do sweet pea, I know” He whispered kissing the top of her head, he thought she was absolutely adorable and sexy at the same time, God he loves her so much; even if he shows it a different way than most..

“Can I take this off you sweets?”

Nodding into his chest, his fingers skilfully removed all the lace, his fingers tracing down her bare back and noticing that she was wearing nothing under the heavy gown. “No underwear? How naughty of you baby” Henry smirked softly smacking her ass softly, rubbing it with his palm afterwards.

“S’too warm n’ was too sensitive” Y/n whimpered rubbing her thighs together desperately, her face tucked away from him. “Sensitive? Why?” Henry asked confused, he hasn’t seen her since two days before the wedding for tradition, unless she had played with herself like she wasn’t supposed to.

“S-Stephanie brought me to get my private parts w-waxed” She whispered not knowing how he’d react, looking at the gown which had now pooled around her freshly painted toes, hearing nothing but his breaths starting to deepen. “So my pussy, is bald?”

Letting out a giggle at his stupid words Y/n stepped back a bit, doubling over in a giggle fit as he simply chuckled and smiled back. “What? Im serious, let me see my bald pussy” He smirked stepping forward, his eyes travelling down to see the bush that was usually on her mound, was now fully gone; instead showing off her soft smooth looking skin.

“Jesus baby, did ya do it for me?” His finger came under her chin so their eyes could meet, his lips coming closer to press a small kiss to her chin. Her hands holding on tightly to the waistband of his briefs, her lip held tightly beneath her teeth. “Yeah, wanted to be pretty for you!” She said naively smiling up at him, showing off all her beautiful pearly whites as she batted her lashes at him.

“So sweet, but you’re already so sweet n gorgeous sugar, s’just an extra present for me huh” He nuzzled his cheek against hers as he slowly walked her backwards towards their now shared marital bed, filled with new cotton sheets and velvet blankets to keep them warm during this harsh winter.

“R-really ya think so?” She whispered as he crawled on top of her, gasping as he left kisses all over her neck and chest, his lips tugging and licking at her pebbled nipples. “Oh baby trust me, I know so” He growled moving downwards to come face to face with her wet centre.

An excited smile coming onto his face as he nuzzled his face into her smooth pussy, lightly kissing its lips almost as if it was her mouth.

“s’smooth honey, still miss my woman’s bush though” He smirked keeping each hand on her breasts, his nose nudging against her engorged clit teasingly, breathing in her vanilla scent. “ill keep that in mind for next time b-bear” She whispered nodding her head seriously, Henry loved how his wife would do absolutely anything just to keep him happy, and he’d make sure she was looked after.

“Course you will sugar” Henry said more to himself, dipping his tongue in between her sticky folds, humming as he tasted her sweet self on his tongue. Not even giving her a second to adjust before his mouth is ravaging her centre like crazy, causing her upper body to sit up, her thighs clamping onto his head to keep his mouth on her. “T-too quick, oh-oh my” She whimpered out meeting Henry’s icy blue eyes, noticing the darkened lusty look in them, telling her he was nowhere near done tonight. He spat right onto her mound, making it shiny and slippery with his tongue before delving back into her hole again

Feeling her hole clench around his thick tongue, he pulled it out, giving her pussy one last tongue kiss before crawling over her; a smirk on his face as he watched her whimper and whine out. “Gotta love on my favourite pair of lips” He whispered against her lips, kissing it softly, the wetness on his lips transferring onto hers and letting her taste herself.

His tip was already prodding at her wet hole, his body knowing hers like the back of his hand. Remembering all the times he had taken her in the back of his truck, during a picnic, at the drive-in cinema and of course right on their front porch.

“A-ah” Y/n moaned out feeling Henry slowly start to inch into her extra sensitive pussy, his rough pubes scratching onto her newly waxed skin. “So sexy baby, my sweet wifey” He moaned bottoming out inside her, his heavy sac smacking against her rear softly. Wrapping her hands around each bicep Y/n felt hot tears build up in her eyes, Henry’s nestle of curls had rubbed against her clit, his balls had slapped her pussy and his fingers were toying with her nubs.

“F-feel you everywhere, I love it” She gasped out hanging her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her mouth sat agape. The tip of her tongue found itself being sucked by Henry, his mouth needing to taste her even more, he was addicted to her. That’s why he needed her, just as much as she needed him.

“Now that you’re my wife, gonna make sure you’re full of me every single day sugar, ya like that? Have ya walkin’ around our cabin drippin like a broken faucet” He growled letting go of her tongue, his mouth directly whispering the filthy things into her ear, in turn her moans were echoing in his. Her nails scraping against his back while his hips smacked into hers, her pussy being slapped continuously simultaneously.

“Fuck your pussy is going to make me cum sugar, your sweet honey pussy is going to make your husband cum” He said almost whimpering, his thrusts growing erratic and rough as he clawed at the sheets by her head, her own voice sore and hoarse as she squirted all over his messy cock.

“S-squirted?-“ Y/n looked down shocked, an embarrassed look on her face,

“Maybe this bald thing is the way to go then huh?” Henry teased before thrusting one more time, his hips still slightly grinding against her poor clit as his cum spurted in waves inside her cavern. Both of them breathing out tiredly, Y/n peppering Henry’s face with kisses, muttering out small words of ‘i love you’ ‘you deserve some kissies’ ‘my husband’

“Aw baby lemme give you a kissy since you love ‘em so much” He smiled rubbing his lips against hers, his fingers cupping her jaw enough for her mouth to pucker open, his tongue licking into it lewdly before spitting into it. A smiley look on Y/n’s face as she hugged him to her chest, giggling and squeezing him tightly, a sense of love overfilling her. Only letting go once she realised that Henry had actually fallen asleep, her big hibernating bear

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @tinyelfperson @athena-roy @fdl305 @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @princess-paramour @mansaaay @girl-of-multi-fandoms @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @alina02 @bookfrog242 @alexxavicry @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @sparklemarysunshine @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @aerangi @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @diyabhanushali1 @spencerreidat4am @keiva1000 @acornacre @ninasw0rld @ggmimitf @teti-menchon0604 @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @grxnde-dwt @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @imahallucinationnn @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @kimm4710 @esposadomd @kaydesssssssss @morenoc @HcavsCevans

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x shy!reader #lumberjack!henry cavill #henry cavill x you

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idyllcy · 8 months ago

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seven, seven, seven || holy matrimony

word count: 3.1k

summary: sacrifice or spouse? immortal or mortal?

On the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of every decade, a village girl is sacrificed at the foot of a mountain, left to be devoured by the dragon at the tip of the mountain. There is a rumor that above the clouds of the mountain of green, there resides a dragon, sky clear where he lives, his palace made of pure jade and lined with gold, his gates lined with pearls, and his scales as bright as the blue sky. There is a rumor that in the palace, the furniture is made of the finest of woods with cushions made of the finest silk in all of the land. There is a rumor that in the palace, a dragon with purple eyes sits on his throne of gold, asking for a bride on the seventh day of the seventh month every ten years.

On the seventh day of the seventh month of your many years in life, you are put at the base of the mountain in the snow, left to die, adorned from head to toe in red robes symbolizing your holy matrimony to the dragon in the sky.

On the seventh day of the seventh month of that year, you are disguised as a 17 year old despite your older age, and you are dressed like a bride, skin powdered and body bathed, lips red and lashes curled, dressed like the dolls you used to see on display at the city, left for your holy husband who doesn’t seem like he is coming for you. On this special day of the most luckiest day in the year, you are left at the foot of a mountain under a fictional jade palace adorned with gold in its cracks, painted as a bride for a man that exists only in a folktale that people still believed.

You stay at the base of the mountain instead, rubbing at your arms, whimpering from the cold, fingers starting to freeze from the snow and lack of clothes.

The villagers left you to rot, technically.

You pull at the hanfu on your body, trying to conserve your body warmth, teeth chattering as a breeze passes you, and you whimper. God. If you knew you were just going to die like this, you would have at least given your friends the key to your apartment so they could clear out your place . Seriously, what kind of family calls you up claiming that there was a crisis in the family only to wrap you up in wedding robes and send you to the base of a mountain to wed you off instead of their precious daughter. Oh, right. Not you. Your sister. Your step-sister that your mother treasured more than her own. You suppose this is what you get for being so naive as to helping them one last time before you wanted to permanently sever ties with them.

It’s a mistake on your part, and as the hanfu slips further from your skin, you hiss at the cold, the tears that were swelling up in your eyes freezing on your skin and cracking. Your cleavage shudders as you try to pull the dress further up, a breeze causing you to shake further as you whimper, your breath fogging from the cold, and you sigh shakily. This was how you were going to die. The frost would kiss your fingertips and your skin, and your skin would turn to ice from the winter cold. That would be how you pass. Not in a hospital surrounded by the old– but by the hands of a family that despised you— who had sent you in place of their daughter that was selected.

On the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the decade, the strike of luck you receive is to die in the hands of winter herself.

Then, your mind strikes something.

You recall the first bride to be taken up in the old folktale, and you open your mouth, pulling your dress further down to show your cleavage. Your cheeks flush pink as you breathe, skin starting to turn red from being exposed to the cold, and you exhale. The tears in the corner of your eyes spills, and it ruins your makeup, but you continue, pulling your dress further to show more cleavage, desperate to escape this situation even if it was simply an old story from a folktale. Then, you open your mouth as you begin to weep for your husband.

“My husband…” You mumble, eyes getting droopy. “Do come claim your bride…”

Somewhere in the distance, bells jingle in the background, and you feel yourself slip from consciousness as you fall into warm arms, smooth lips pressed to yours as you see black.

When you wake, you are in a room of jade, golden silk draped over you, the red from your hanfu hung up across from you, and a pair of piercing purple eyes meeting your gaze from next to your dress. You blink owlishly at the man, lips parted as you take in his gaze. Silver hair cascades down his shoulders, his skin pale as porcelain, horns blue as the sea as you shrink under his gaze, swallowing your saliva with your dirty thoughts as your eyes trail down to the robe on his skin, white like the snow you had passed out in. You press at the bare skin of your arms, and you finally notice that you are bare under the gold of the blanket. Warmth spreads up your neck immediately as you meet purple eyes again, this time, your skin flushed warm with embarrassment.

“Did you rest well, my bride?” He smiles gently, lips pulled up, eyes strangely gentle.

“A-are you my husband?” You ask, pulling the silk up as it slides from your chest.

He nods. “Welcome to your new residence, my wife.”

You blink at him through your lashes, nodding slowly.

“Is this… my room?”

He nods, standing up as he does, stepping over to you. “Would you like something to eat?”

He offers you his hand.

You take it, letting go of the blanket as you are exposed to him— yet you do not feel uncomfortable being bare in the presence of your husband. He offers you a robe, fingers gentle on your skin as he helps you into a green silk, and you stare, eyes big as you stare at him in awe. He’s pretty. So pretty. You watch as his fingers slip between the silk of the ribbon of the robe, tying it around your waist as his voice comes out smooth as honey, tempting as sin, and you swallow slowly, heart racing in your chest as you answer him, his words going in one ear and out the other. You wonder if you plain next to him. He must have washed off the ornaments that the servants had done to your face, so you must look <i>painfully</i> simple next to your god of a husband, but you do not falter, blinking slowly as he offers you his arm.

“Love.” He mumbles. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” You whisper, lips pulled into a smile. “You are beautiful, my husband.”

“And you, my bride.” He smiles.

You wonder if it’s some sort of curse that overcomes you and makes you dizzy with desire for him, but you do not complain, listening as your husband takes you through the palace, the pond with sacred fish, and trees of three pink peaches and purple plums. You blink at them as they tempt you to take a bite, but you don’t when your husband tells you not to. Instead, he takes a bite of the peach, juice dripping down his chin as he presses his lips to yours, making your head spin deliciously with want as you taste the nectar on his lips and tongue, lashes fluttering as your body relaxes into his. Your body warms, but not uncomfortably, and you chase after your husband’s lips as he pulls away, making him chuckle.

The kiss was chaste, yet you felt as though it were sinful.

“If I give you any more, beloved,” His thumb wipes the mess of nectar on your chin and lips, “then you will become sick with addiction to a fruit you can not have.”

“Why not?” You whisper, eyes focused on his fingers as he presses his thumb to his lips, licking it clean.

“You are not a god, my love.” He whispers. “No mortal is to consume it too quickly at once.”

“You lie.” You whisper, listening to him anyway. “The emperor Wu of Han consumed one in the tales and planted a tree.”

“He is the only mortal to do so.” Your husband whispers. “Have a plum for now to quench the thirst.”

You take it from him and bite down, sugar flooding your system as you smile in content. “Thank you, my beloved.”

He nods, offering you his arm again as you continue through the halls of his palace, the jade embedded with gold glistening as the sun starts to set, and your lips are parted in mild surprise as it is, smiling at the gold that reflects in your eyes. Your husband looks down at you, squeezing your hand affectionately as you blink up at him. He leans down slightly, pressing his lips to your forehead, and your head spins again as the smell of the peaches flood your system. You blink up at him big-eyed, silently hoping he would give you another taste of the peach from earlier, but he only shakes his head, taking you back to your room as you watch him shut the door behind him.

Would it be too early to ask him to sleep in the room with you?

You suppose it wouldn’t be wrong for a wife to visit her husband’s chambers at night.

You wander through the halls, the gold engravings lighting up as you do, and you blink owlishly once you arrive at your husband’s chambers, knocking on his door as you wonder if he is awake. The light in his room flickers as a shadow opens the door for you, and you blink up at your husband, red mark on his forehead glowing hazily, and you blink up at him, opening then closing your mouth as you realize you don’t have a reason as to why you decided to join him in his quarters.

“Were you scared, my wife?”

“Yes.” You whisper. “The palace is so big and my room feels so empty without you.”

He chuckles, letting you in, pulling the covers over you as you blink at him.

“Will you rest up with me?” You pout. “We haven’t… consummated the marriage either.” You whisper.

“When your body is no longer weak.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I shall watch you rest for the night.”

“Please rest well.” You whisper.

“For you.” He hums.

When the sun rises in the morning, you rise with it, body well rested as you sit up, yawning as you do, staring at your husband who has fallen asleep on the couch. Had you known you would have been such a hassle, you would have not entered his chambers and asked to rest with him for the night. The blanket you drag with you is draped over his body, and you tuck him in, lips ghosting over his forehead as you kiss him to rest well, leaving the room as you wander around to head back to your own quarters.

The pillars shimmer as you pass them, signifying your arrival, and you enter your room again, tugging the robe off your body as you slip into your bed, eyelids growing heavy as the silk hugs your skin, your consciousness slipping as you rest once again.

Your husband arrives at your door, knocking before entering, eyes blinking at your sleeping form, skin and heart racing in his chest as he brushes the hair from your face. The black of your hair rests around you on the pillow as you shift, leaning into his touch unconsciously, making his heart skip. Ah, you were… how pretty. You’re so pretty.

He mumbles to himself as you continue sleeping, lashes soft against the plush of your cheek, hand small as he places his over it, making him blink. He wonders how many times it’s been since the last sacrifice’s prayer. Though, most of them either died waiting or froze to death while running away. It wasn’t that he was lonely, per say, it was more… waiting. It had been a long time since he had met his wife, after all. He was simply glad that the right one had returned. He doesn’t recall how many times the other sacrifices had tried to seduce him— going as far as entering his chambers while he was resting to have their way with him.

At least he doesn’t need to worry about it with you.

Your soul wouldn’t allow it.

A soft amber glows in your chest as you rest, and your husband blinks slowly.

Same shade as the past. How warming.

The two of you fall into a pattern. His fingers tug on yours as the two of you hang out at his place, and you watch as he busies himself with his garden and fish, eyes focused on his task, body lax as he goes about his day. You wonder how someone is able to look so relaxed yet dignified at the same time. You don’t worry yourself with it, settling for staring at the fish while they flock to the food he gives them instead.

“Love.” He hums.

“Hm?”

“What is your name?”

Bells ring in the distance when you tell him.

“And you?”

“Ye Xuan.” He smiles. “Your husband’s name is Ye Xuan.”

“My Ye Xuan.” You hum, cheeks dusted with color.

“Yours.” He chuckles at the color on your ears.

You find that your husband is so, so lovely.

Your lips are curled upward sweetly as you eat with him, wandering out into the garden to pick plums and take a bite. You do not touch the peaches, blinking at them slowly while your husband takes a bite of them instead, offering you a nibble. You do not take it out of a fear that you will grow to become addicted. You do not know why, but you find the taste of peaches luring but not enough. You do not care for immortality. It is a blessing to be able to grow old and follow everyone else of value to you.

You wake up at the strike of noon, stretching your arms as you hear something crack, eyes going wide. Then, the door slides open, and you blink at your husband, aquamarine scales on his cheeks, scarlet lips curled into a smile.

“Did you rest well, wife?”

You beam. “Yes, husband.”

“Ye Xuan.” He hums, sitting at the edge of your bed as he hands you the bowl of porridge. “I hear the people still make century eggs on earth, so I thought to make you some.”

“Thank you,” You smile cheekily, eating as he observes you.

Delicate. You are so much more delicate than he ever thought you would be. You look of skin and bones, years of weariness and exhaustion in your body, nowhere near the age of the myth in the tale promised by the people in your hometown. He wonders why the age had been so young and why they had never bothered to check before sending the poor girls.

“What happened to all the previous girls?” You tilt your head,

He stares at you, sighing.

“Are they all passed?”

“it has been a long time since someone remembered that they are to call to me when they are sacrificed.” He whispers. “The lot of them… passed.”

“Is there a reason why it is every ten years?”

“Every seventy.” Ye Xuen hums. “That is typically how long it takes a soul to reincarnate.”

You blink at him owlishly.

“The soul matters?”

“It is also why you do not respond to the majority of the brides?” You mumble.

He nods solemnly, taking the bowl from you as he sighs.

“If the soul does not match, then the peach naturally rejects her.”

“So you don’t go based on looks?”

Your husband laughs, lips quirking up as his eyes smile at you, shaking his head.

You find something familiar about the palace the longer you spend there. You stare and blink at the peaches, plums growing to be good, but not enough to satisfy something. You crave something richer, and it seems that it will not be right without it.

“You crave the peaches.” Your husband tells you, taking your plate from you. “You can not have them.”

You stare at your husband. “Will it kill me?”

He shakes his head.

You crave it.

You wonder just what would happen if you did not listen to him for once.

Your fingers rest on the branches of the peach trees, licking your lips as you hum slowly, lashes fluttering as the fruit tempts you, lips curling upwards as you crave it. You wonder why your husband refuses to let you have it again. It is just a fruit, no? It could not hurt you. If the first emperor had three and achieved immortality, then how come you were not to become as him?

You snap the fruit from the tree, tucking it into your pouch as you hear your husband approach.

“You can not have it.”

“I know.” You continue staring, watching as the peach grows back on the tree, humming.

“Did you take one?”

“No.” You tilt your head. “I did not.”

Your husband raises a brow, but does not speak up.

You cut the fruit open later that night.

It tastes sweet on your lips, biting the fruit, and you blink slowly at your nectar stained hands, sucking on the juices from your fingers. Through the cracks of your door, your husband watches you, purple eyes peeling past the wooden doors, stuck on your figure as you finish, settling into the warmth of your blanket.

Again.

It has happened again.

Your husband opens the doors once you are asleep, fingers pressed under your nose as he feels the air slip out of your lungs, skin pale and features in peace as he holds your head to his, forehead pressed to yours, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows as he loses you.

You are gone. You are gone now.

Again.

You are gone again.

The fruit of the tree of immortality is still too much for your soul to handle, lips paling as your blood stops flowing, his ears listening to the way your heart stills and then stops.

Next life. Next life.

#☾.suggestive #yexuan x reader #cael x reader #lovebrush chronicles x reader #☾.fics #lovebrush chronicles #reader insert #for all time #for all time x reader #got lazy at the end im not writing no more

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weddingroots · 11 months ago

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