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frannyzooey · 24 days

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Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E (age gap)

Summary: Best friends with younger one, you’ve known the Miller brothers since forever — you’ve wanted the older one for just as long.

a/n: it’s been a while! I’ve been writing over on Ao3, but thought I would pop in and say hi and happy summer ❤️ enjoy! —

Glancing at the clock on the wall, you wonder how much longer you need to stay before it’s appropriate to leave.

You can’t even remember the name of the person who's talking at you – someone who said they took calc with you or something, back in high school. Brian, maybe? Ben? Picking at the label on the bottle in your hand, you tip the last swallow of warm beer into your mouth, grimacing at the taste.

“Gimme a second,” you interrupt him. “I’ll be right back.”

Not a fuckin’ chance , you think to yourself.

Navigating through the crowd of people packed into the Miller’s living room, you make your way towards the kitchen. Needing another beer to get through it all, you head straight for the fridge – only to see someone already there, their broad back facing you. When they straighten and shut the door, you reach out and pluck the beer from their hand.

“Thanks for the beer, Miller.”

Joel huffs, grabbing another one from the fridge. Turning to face you, he leans his hip against the counter.

“You even old enough to drink?” Twisting the cap off, he takes a long, slow drink, his throat working with the motion.

You roll your eyes, and his eyes drift down your body and back up again.

Playing it cool, you clink your bottle against his.

“Cheers, old man.”

His eyes narrow, and he waits a beat before tipping the bottle against his lips.

His face has been a fixture in your life for as long as you’ve known Tommy – a kid you met back in elementary school. Tommy was a few years older than you, Joel even older than him. The fact that you were younger never bothered Tommy – you were just as daring as any boy his age, and he was more fun than any girl your own. A fixture by his side more often than not, you’d stuck together through middle school and then high school, through boyfriends and girlfriends, through Tommy’s enlistment after senior year.

The entire time, Joel was there.

In the beginning, you never paid him any attention. Busy working since he could, you barely saw him. The couple times you did see him at parties, it was only as Tommy’s ride, or showing up when Tommy got in trouble with his mouth. Like he never had any patience for parties or stuff like that; an aged man since forever. Even at their house, Joel had been…around, but he never stuck around for long. Always drifting away to go hang out in the garage, or in his room.

It was during high school when you started looking at him differently. Started paying attention to him in a way you never did before. Starting noticing things like he never had a girl around – or at least one that stuck , though you knew he knew his way around them, because you saw him in town sometimes.

Walking out of a liquor store with a brown bag, a girl sitting in the passenger seat of his truck.

Pulling open the door of the bar, his hand on the small of another girl’s back.

Once, you saw him at the movie theater you worked at senior year. You still remember the heat that flooded your face when he strolled up to the ticket booth where you were standing, the broad smile he had on his face for his date, one that turned your insides warm. His arm was looped around her back, his hand resting on her ass with casual confidence.

You’d never been so jealous of someone in your life.

You left him behind (not that he ever knew it) when you went away to college. A visit back home after your first year timed with a visit home from Tommy, Joel is right where you left him, still on the fringes. Only at the party to keep an eye on things, to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand, still keeping to himself. He’s been upstairs all night, only coming down every so often for another beer.

The mystery of how he spent his time used to consume you back in your school-kid crush days…and it comes back full force, when he leaves you in the kitchen to go back up to his room.

Leaving the noise of the party behind you, you climb the worn carpeted stairs. The second floor of their house is off limits to party guests, but you also know that doesn’t apply to you. Having been to this house more times than you can count, you know right where Joel’s bedroom is. You’ve never been in it though, which is part of the pull that drives you towards it – along with a slice of light that breaks through where he’s left the door cracked.

You nudge it open with your knuckle, to find him sitting inside.

At a desk chair, his legs spread wide in his slouch. A beer rests in his hand, the other one holding a book and at your presence, he puts the book face down in his lap.

He frowns. “Everything okay down there?”

“Yea. Just thought I’d come up and say hi. See what you’re doing.”

“Said hi in the kitchen,” he teases. He lifts the book with one hand. “And I was readin’.”

Used to his gruff sarcasm, you ignore it. “Any good?”

His eyes follow you as you walk further into the room, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“Not really,” he answers. “Just waitin’ for everyone to leave.”

You know that’s not going to happen any time soon; another large group of people had walked in just as you made your way upstairs.

A golden hue washes over everything, a single lamp burning on the desk, the colors of everything else dulled in the dim light. Shadows pool in the corners of the room, but he is lit, though only parts of him: the chestnut ends of his curls, his tanned skin, the stretch of his jeans across his thighs. The bed you sit on has a rumpled comforter, clearly having been slept in.

Arousal pools low and heady between your hips.

Has he ever brought another girl up here? Has he fucked anyone in this bed?

You imagine it briefly: his flushed cheeks, his heavy breathing, his muscles shifting under his skin. Your hand trembles, and you grip your beer tighter.

“Already sick of bein’ downstairs?” he asks.

You thumb at the condensation gathered on the bottle, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Yea. Sort of. It’s always a little awkward when you come back, you know?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. Never been anywhere but here.”

Your shoulders slump, and you let out a sigh. “Right. But you know what I mean.”

Suddenly, the weight of exhaustion pulls at you: the smiles you had to force downstairs, the names you tried to recall, the crush of people and the fake enthusiasm. You came here for Tommy, and you’ve barely seen him tonight. Forgetting for a second that you’re not in Tommy’s bedroom, you relax and let yourself fall backwards on Joel’s bed. The second you do it, you freeze – but don’t correct it.

You’re in Joel Miller’s bed. Lying down.

You feel the hem of your shirt ride up, but don’t fix it. The sheets smell like him, and you hear him huff.

You also feel the weight of his eyes on you.

–

He should be more annoyed that you’re in his bedroom, but he can’t take his eyes off your legs: a mile long in your cutoffs, the slight peek at the curve of your ass in their ride high. The slice of soft skin he can see, between your waistband and your shirt.

He watches you roll over and prop your head up on your hand, not liking at all how good you look in his bed.

He’s been watching you since you came back. Watched you even before that, though he’d never admit it. Walking around their backyard in a tiny bikini when you lounge with Tommy by the pool, looking gorgeous as hell all windblown and carefree sitting in the passenger seat of Tommy’s truck, looking so fucking innocent and beautiful swamped in one of Tommy’s sweaters by the bonfires he’s been having at night since he came back.

The sight of your ass in those shorts as you walk around their house has been imprinted on his mind all week.

He sits up, clearing his throat. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he lets his head hang down between his shoulders. If he can avoid looking at you, maybe his cock will stop hardening with interest.

“I think you better get back downstairs.”

“I just wanna catch up,” you reply innocently, looking anything but.

He looks up, giving you a knowing look in reprimand. “That ain’t all you wanna do.”

He doesn’t know what compelled him to say that to you , but he does know it to be true. He’s seen the look on your face on plenty of women before – women . You’re a girl . One he’s known since forever. One he never thought about until he did, and one he tried not to think about once he started.

One who is way too fucking young for the things he’s thought about doing to you.

“No?” you ask. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I wanna do?”

He shakes his head instead.

The edges of your mouth curl up in a soft, teasing smile. “Joel Miller, a secret prude.”

His head snaps up, “I ain’t no prude, honey, you’re just –”

“Honey?” Your eyebrows lift, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just what?”

“ Young. Too young.”

“I’m twenty.”

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes and you cave.

“Almost. In a few months.”

He huffs in disgust, dropping his head back down. “Jesus Christ. A baby.”

He feels you study him for a moment.

“I missed you while I was gone, you know.”

The confession surprises him, and he looks up to find your face completely sober, truthful.

“Did you miss me?” you ask quietly.

The vulnerability on your face pulls at him, and even though he knows what will happen if he gets on that bed, he wants to. If only to tuck you against his chest and reassure you that he did. He really did. He knows you think he never noticed you, but that’s only because he made you feel that way. He couldn’t notice you, for both your sakes.

“Just come…sit with me, okay?” you ask. “I’m not gonna bite.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, keeping his eyes on the floor. He feels you wait with bated breath, knowing full well that he should stand up and walk you out of his bedroom…but he can’t bring himself to leave you hanging like that.

Instead, he stands, and walks over to the bed.

Your face flashes with surprise that you try to hide, and he smirks.

There is a look on your face he’s seen a million times — a bolstering sort of lift to your chin, the look of a tough girl that would follow his brother anywhere. A girl who never backed down, even when he could tell she was nervous.

A girl he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway.

He tests the waters, crawling onto his bed. Stretching out next to you, he sprawls across the mattress, his broad form partially covering yours in shadow. He can feel the heat gather between your bodies. You look even younger close up, and he leans closer, unable to stop himself from pushing to see how far you’ll go.

He recognizes that same determined look on your face now, only this one is slightly different. This one is laced with lust, and want. So much fucking want it makes him ache.

“Okay, big girl,” he drawls. “Now what?”

–

It’s his turn to be surprised when you lean in and press your mouth to his.

You can tell because he momentarily freezes when your lips meet, his stubble brushing against your skin, your lips fitting neatly along the seam of his own. You kiss him again, this time opening your mouth just enough to let him in and he takes your invitation, the taste of beer thick on his tongue when he slides it against yours. His hand comes up, cradling the curve of your jaw as you tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss and a soft sound that catches in the back of your throat has his fingers flexing, pulling you closer.

The sheets rustle beneath you when he takes over, his hold guiding you beneath him on the bed. He kisses you harder, longer, a deep groan rumbling from his chest, the light of the room blocked out behind him. His solid body weighs heavy on top of you, his denim clad hips pushing between your thighs with a grind and you open your legs wider, his hand sliding up the outside of your leg to hitch your knee around his hip.

It’s sensory overload after wanting him for so long. You’ve daydreamed about this a million times, imagined it happening a million different ways, but you never thought it would be anything like this. Lost in the weighted haze of lust, drunk on the way he feels against you, head swimming with arousal, the crotch of your panties already so fucking wet that they slide over your achingly empty core with every rock of his hips into yours. Meeting the rolling grind of his hips with your own, you feel the weight of his cock press against you, his calloused hand covering your breast with a squeeze. His hips rock forward again, the grinding promise of what he’s capable of against the damp seam of your shorts and you are just about to beg him for more when he pulls back, standing.

In one long stride, he shoves the door shut and locks it.

Tugging his shirt off with a one handed grip over his head, you take in the sight of his broad, solid chest and the dusting of hair that scatters sparsely just under his collarbones. It’s thicker along his sternum, even thicker still just under his navel, where it leads into the waistband of his jeans. He looks so…big, from where you lay on the bed. Older, masculine in a way you’ve never seen on a boy your age. Your eyes run the length of his body and back up again, the outline of his thick cock pushing against the fly of his jeans making your cunt flutter.

He opens the drawer next to his bed, tossing a condom down and there is something so arousing about the matter of fact action, the implied sight of it just sitting there, waiting for him. Black, with gold letters. When his hands drop to work open his belt buckle with single minded intent, you reach down to slide your shorts off.

“Don’t.”

Your hands pause.

“I wanna do that.”

You don’t even know what to say in response before he’s bending to grab you behind your knees, hauling you to the edge of the bed. Your shirt rides up your back, and sit up enough to tear it over your head, your bra following shortly after as his greedy eyes track every movement. His thick fingers pop open the button on your shorts, hooking under the fabric and he drags them down and off, bringing your panties along with them.

Then he stands there, his hands on your knees. He pushes them apart, and you try not to squirm as he spreads you for him.

“Goddamn.” The word pours out of his mouth, saturated with awe, low with lust.

Your thighs flinch, your knees trying to pull together to hide yourself from the heat of his gaze, but he keeps a firm grasp on them, holding you open.

“Don’t try to hide it from me now, honey.”

His eyes drop from your face to the gleaming spread of your cunt. He reaches down, his thumb brushing over your opening, and it’s so fucking filthy the way he drags it through the mess you’ve made for him.

“Especially not when it’s this pretty,” he murmurs.

He drops to his knees, your breath hitching when he tugs you closer to his mouth and guiding your legs over his bare shoulders, his mouth immediately seeks you out.

“ Fuck .”

The word slides into a moan when your body bows off the bed to chase the slick heat of his tongue. It smears wetness over everything, dipping inside you to drag upwards to your clit and then he’s fitting the bottom half of his face along your cunt with a messy, open mouthed kiss.

He devours you there the same way he devoured your mouth earlier, and the sensation is simultaneously too much but not enough, your hands finding purchase in his sheets. You fist them, twisting them in your grip as you start to rock your hips and you have never - never - had this done to you before, a tremble pouring sweet and thick down your spine to pool right under his mouth.

His hands keep your thighs forced open, his shoulders spreading you wider and when his tongue starts to swirl firm, tight circles over your clit, it drags a hoarse moan out of your throat.

Too consumed to care if you’re being too loud, every thought leaves your head when two thick fingers stroke delicately along the dip of your opening, before sliding inside you with a filling stretch just as he starts to suck . His whiskered cheeks hollow with it, your words breathless and pleading. A stretch just to take his fingers , you close your eyes and feel your stomach drop when you think about taking his cock.

The thought alone sends you flying over the edge.

When it happens, he groans into you just as loud as if he’s the one who’s come, and a second wave washes hot over your limbs when you peek down to see the upper half of his face between your spread thighs. His brows pinched together, his eyes closed tight, his white knuckled hold on your thighs.

The music turns up louder downstairs, a shout of a crowd greeting new arrivals – but it’s lost in the intimacy of the bedroom. His satisfied low groans, your trembling thighs, his damp beard against your skin.

Pulling back, he wipes your slick from his face with his hand – and then gives your cunt a sharp, flat swat.

The action shocks you, your eyes widening and the grin on his face is charmingly boyish. Or would be, if he didn’t follow it with a filthy suck of the fingers that were just inside you. He stands, shucking his jeans and briefs off in one movement, and puts a knee on the bed between your legs, reaching for the condom. His large hands rip it open, and though you can feel his gaze rest heavily on you as he puts it on, your eyes are fixed firmly on his cock.

It’s – big. Much bigger than you’ve ever seen, a grown man’s dick. He fists it lazily for a moment, the weight of it evident in his grip and when he places the condom over the tip and rolls it down to the base, you openly stare. The translucent rubber fits snug and tight, down to the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

When you finally drag your eyes up to his face, he looks smug.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. It’ll fit.”

The amount of times you’ve thought about this moment is nothing compared to the real thing. The man standing in front of you has always been off limits, a complete mystery to you all these years, even as the subject of most of your debased fantasies. The realness of him — the solid width of his frame, the flush to his skin, the amount of bare, firm skin on display. You swallow hard, a bundle of nervous anticipation even though he just fucked you with his mouth.

He settles his body on top of you, caging you underneath him and the press of his hot skin has all of your nerves scattering, evaporating into need .

His mouth rests right next to your ear, a kiss brushed against the divot below it.

“We’ll make it,” he whispers.

If you thought his fingers were a snug fit, it’s nothingcompared to how full you feel as he slides in. The stretch almost to the point of pain save for how wet he got you beforehand, it still steals the air from your lungs as he pushes inside. You squirm underneath him, shifting to accommodate every single inch and his hand curls around your waist, his hips pushing forward with a final, hard thrust.

His mouth brushes tenderly along your clenched jaw, letting you get used to it before his hips find a rolling rhythm. Every downstroke shoving you up underneath his hold, you hold on tight, hitching your knees up along his ribs and your feet slide over his tailbone, a whine crawling out of your outstretched throat.

“This little pussy is so tight ,” he groans, his hot breath gusting over your skin. “So fucking tight.”

His hand shoves itself under your tailbone, angling your hips to take him deeper and his own groan sounds deep over your softer, higher one.

“Do you have any idea how much I thought about fuckin’ you? How many different ways I’ve wanted to?”

Hearing him utter those words makes your chest crack open, your heart thundering underneath your rib cage. Everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, paired with more than you ever thought you would.

He picks up pace, his hips a relentless, heavy pound into the cradle of your own, each thrust punching the air out of you – and your fingers claw into his forearms when he sits back on his heels, pushing your knees to your chest to fuck you harder.

The bed pounds lewdly against the wall, the music from the party covering it up.

“Joel,” you whine, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. It feels like you’re being used by him, your body a tool for his own pleasure, your pliant, moldable body being positioned just for his use. It sends you higher, thinking about him doing the same for others, right here in this bed.

You start to tense underneath him, the wave of slick, brutal pleasure pulling you under and when you come, it’s a wordless, breathless thing – your body pulling taut, your cunt squeezing him tight. He groans, dropping forward to cover your mouth with his, his hand sliding up to wrap around the nape of your neck with a grip and he forces himself deeper, his strokes urgent in their snap against you.

He rests his forehead against yours, and through the haze of your freshly fucked gaze, he recognizes the same look from before. A girl who never backs down, a girl who knows how to hold her own.

“I already want it again, Joel,” you breathe against his mouth, his heavy pants washing over your lips. “Next time, I’m gonna ride you. I’m gonna sit on your lap and you can watch me take it, okay?”

“Fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering. They chase the slick warmth of your cunt, his eyes closing tight.

“You’re fuckin’ trouble, you know that?” he rasps, his fingers threading into the hair at your nape, fisting it with a tug. The motion tips your head back for him, a victorious grin stretching across your face.

“A pain in my ass since I met you,” he pants, letting out a deep groan. “A sweet piece of ass in my bed.”

You nod, the smile on your face melting into something pleasure soaked when he shifts the angle of his hips.

“I’m gonna come inside this little cunt, okay? And then I’m gonna do it all over again. You ready, honey?”

“God yes.”

He buries his face in the damp crook of your neck when he comes, he back rounding as his hips still in their push against yours. He’s so deep you know you’re going to feel it tomorrow – more than you’ve ever taken, a stretch you know will make you ache every time you sit down. He holds onto you so tight that you can barely breathe, and it’s a special sort of heaven to be buried underneath the bulk of his body. Your cheek pressed against his curls, your chest compressed under his. Your hips sore from being spread so wide, your cunt still snug around him.

He lifts just enough to see you, and opens his mouth – right when something crashes beneath his room.

“What the fuck , Tommy,” he grumbles, and you laugh at his instant change of expression. He slips out from inside you with a groan, his hips imperceptibly shifting forward to chase the heat between your thighs. He presses a quick, hard kiss against your lips and then he’s dragging himself from the bed, tugging the condom off and tying it in a neat knot.

Tossing it in the trash next to his bed, he grabs his jeans off the floor.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and see what the hell that was,” he says, sliding them up over his bare ass. Buttoning them, he shoots you a look. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ get dressed.”

You gesture a wordless salute, and he shakes his head, smiling.

“Smartass,” he grumbles, picking a shirt up off the floor. Sliding it over his head, he opens the door and disappears.

“Tommy!”

You hear him shout and a laugh bubbles up from your chest.

“What the fuck was that?”

Stretching out, you slide against the warm, rumpled sheets and listen to the familiar sound of their deep voices. For the first time since you’ve been back, you feel like you’re home.

Pressing your face into his pillow, you take a deep breath – and grin.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction

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cryptfile · 2 months

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⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon [ benedict bridgerton x wife!reader ]

summary — based on a request but went slightly off with it aka when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.

warnings — pure fluff, since the rumors of sophie being latina sparked, personally went crazy with the information so it’s implied that reader is latina also, mentions of sex (nothing explicit,,, implied as part of a establish relationship).

side notes — English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes i’m sorry in advance. this is for my latin girlies out here reading in tumblr, working extra hard to translate your works to bring new content to the page, tkm <3 reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated,,,as brittany broski once said: i'm a benedict bridgerton believer, i'm a benedict bridgerton ally.

You really didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted Benedict’s marriage proposal.

Nobody told you that loving an artist is a tricky thing, cause while you’re always giving Ben’s new ideas, you hate him at the same time when he’s at the art studio until late, painting as if the absence of light it’s not enough to separate him from the canvas.

God, it just drives you crazy. He lacks of a schedule so he’s able to keep on painting till the rays of light start to appear again in the window he leaves opened all night long, and you’re afraid he’s going to catch a cold if he continues with his bad habits.

It suddenly hits him, that inspiration he ends up being the victim of, kissing you quickly as he escapes so fast you aren’t able to say anything when he disappears leaving you alone, you tolerate it at first, but the second? The third? He's just testing your patience at this point.

Your marriage has never been a troubled one, your husband does not make you mad most of the time and you enjoy being in love, those little things that made your heart skip a beat. You enjoy talking to him at night, spend your day in his art room as he encourages you to keep on writing that mystery book you're so into lately, bickering about how unfair life is for women your age — Hell, woman of all ages.

You love the sound of his laugh when he's careless about everything else, when he admits he doesn't want to go that night's party cause he just wants to stay home and fuck you senseless, his way of seeing art and explain it to you as something totally opposite as what you really think it is.

Thing is, you choose to marry Benedict Bridgerton cause you're indeed, head over heels with him. You've fall for the charming smile and sassy attitude that made you finally settle after years of being called a spinster. He finds the way to intrude the walls of the maze that was your heart and managed to plant a flag in the middle of it when you're confident enough to talk to him, let alone be seen in public after all the rumors you've heard that he was looking for a wife that season.

Even when you try to avoid him, he makes you fall in no time, following you around like a lost puppy, going to your house to spend time with your family, convincing everyone he's desperate to try the food your nana makes, cause you've talked about how good it taste all the time.

It's almost like he tricked you into make you love him, to have you between the brushes dipped in a funny smell water. He has you hooked by the first months and soon after? God, he has no education when he makes you love him, how he obliges you to stain yourself with all the things he was his daily life mixed with yours functioning so well.

It's a thorn nailed in the palm of your hand, those moments of privacy when the moon evolves you and your lover completely that are now being taken away. It's selfish, surely it's something childish so you don't want to say anything to your friends, or even Daphne Basset when she visits you to have an afternoon of tea free from her kids, asking you about how everything's going days before you came up with this great idea.

You can take the matter by your hands, that's why the next time Benedict's painting at midnight your mind works like a machine.

After all the time together you happen to know him more than you know yourself, the things he enjoys what he dislikes the most — So it's not very hard to plot against your husband.

Benedict doesn't seem to hear you when you silently glide through the half-open door, unaware as the light of the candle lights is not enough to illuminate the whole room, the fire he kept close to the canvas he was currently working on. He looks handsome all concentrated. His brows furrowed as he takes the pigments with his bare hands and mix them in his wood palette to get that exact color he was looking for. A shade of pink for a piece he hasn't shown you officially yet.

"What are you doing up so late?" you ask coyly when you are close to him, hearing how his breath hitched for a second before noticing it's you, your hands coming from behind just to intrude in his space close to the easel. He's taller than you, but it doesn't stop you from standing in your tiptoes, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck as you hugged him.

You cannot hide that you're tired. You lost the track of time when you got out of bed, so when you have your husband close and finally smell that nice and subtle aroma he carries with him, you relax in his back, the sound of his heartbeat loud against your ear.

"You scared me for a second," he says with a grin, muscles relaxing under your touch. "Didn't hear you coming in."

He has dry paint on his neck, so while you're cleaning his skin with one hand, he leans into you, back pressed against your chest seeking for your warmth, that contact he always seems to enjoy, your attention in all the ways he can get it.

“Bed’s cold without you” you say, fingers on his recently trimmed hair. "Done waiting for'you."

He has the nerve to laugh at your words, slowly at first, the sound of it making your skin shiver. He's going to defend his choices, you know it, and you hate how much you enjoy it, the way he always seems to find an excuse making you totally offended as you retort something equally ridiculous.

"Just thirty more minutes I promise," he says pressing a kiss in the palm of your hand he so gently grabs. "If you stay with me like this, can do the work in twenty."

"You can fool anyone else with that Ben, not buying it" to be honest, you're just trying to contradict everything he says, far from what you thought doing first when you plotted against him. "You said the same last week, amor. Not falling for any more lies."

"Not falling huh?" he asks, lowering the wood palette to look at you, his eyes meeting yours when you're so comfortable pressing your chin on his shoulder, looking at the painting he was doing — "You've learned the lesson then?"

"Twenty more minutes mean an hour in Benedict's language," he's the one that's now offended when his mouth opens in disbelief "Turns out I know my husband, and we both know that’s way more than twenty minutes.”

He loves it. It’s almost a secret, but he loves how you demand his company, the way you don’t fold against anything and you stand for what you believe. He loves how you claim to know him, your lavender smell filling every single space available in the room as he smiles happily in response. He was so unsure of marrying you at first, but now he doesn’t know what his life would look like without you in the picture.

“Ah, I’m guilty as charge” he says, his own hand going to his chest like it saddens him to hear you talk like that. “Thought you wanted me to paint more.”

You've been encouraging him to show his art to more people, a small gallery that displayed his talent, but that’s using your words for his advantage.

“You little bastard, that’s unfair coming from you.”

“Woah woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Kiss you even” you stick your tongue out, and he’s suddenly turning you around to place a kiss in your forehead, making you move in front of him instead — “You wouldn’t even imagine.”

Benedict’s a romantic. A poet at heart, so he doesn’t let any opportunity slip to show his affection, his infinite devotion to you. His heart flutters in his chest and suddenly he’s kissing you, staining your white nightgown with the fresh paint of his hands and not caring about it at the slightest. Kisses you like he missed you, like he didn’t see you the whole day when in reality you’ve spent all day in the same house, baking cookies cause you’ve suffered from a burst of love to the kitchen.

“You’re not convincing me” you say between kisses, hands pressing you closer to him. “I’m not leaving this room without you.”

He chuckles at your words — “Not even ten minutes?”

He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes you stare at him, wonder what you did to make him so interested in you, so attracted to the point he has to marry you.

"No Bridgerton. Ni diez minutos." To be honest, the accent just makes him go weak at the spot. It's pathetic, but he cannot help it, his brain melts at the sound of your voice, even if he doesn't understand much of what you're saying. "Let's go to bed."

You know it's a weapon, your lips are on his face, and he forgets about everything else: How he's supposed to continue on working when your lips are kissing every inch of his face? Seems like an impossible task now that his hands are on your waist and all he can notice are your pink lips, how you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes cause you're sleepy, an smile that eclipses the rest.

Benedict's no longer worried of his painting. Hell, he cannot seem to remember what shade of pink he was so invested in finding before, but he don't care at all when he's the one now leaning in, kissing you with fervent love as he traces the outline of your lips, almost asking for permission to invade you before deepening the contact, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair cause he simply cannot get enough from you.

"Take me to bed then, my beautiful wife."

He does not protest next. He loves every second of it, the slight force, your gentle touch when your guiding him through the cottage you two share in Wiltshire, the goosebumps in his own skin when you managed to get what you want.

You win. It's a war that Benedict never intended to win, a disaster he knew it would end up with the result of him leaving his work half done cause he cannot resist to the idea of being tangled with you in such an intimate way. He sleeps so well with you on his arms, burying his head on your hair as he relaxes beneath the sheets, the contact of your skin enough to make him have the best night sleep.

Can he resist it? He's neck deep. Talked about it with his brothers before, drinking too much as the words slurred together and he admits how you got him wrapped around your finger, so in love he would do anything to please you, let alone have your full attention — They surely made fun of him, but is it his fault? Being so in love with his wife?

"Can't say no to you," he says defeated "You know it."

In the privacy of the room you two share, you're washing his hands with a wet cloth, preventing him from getting the sheets dirty before pulling his linen shirt to the floor. It's so quickly, he don't seem to realize what you're doing until he's already in bed, covered with the thick duvet as he searches for you.

He realizes now he should have listened to you before, cause his back is surely happy now that he's able to rest, the weariness of being standing so many hours now falling over him as his eyes began to close by themselves.

"When are you going to stop working so late?" You ask, pressing your cheek against his chest as you hugged him, getting closer to him even when you stole more than half of the bed in the process. The second son of the Bridgerton family does not say anything about it, but instead, enjoys how needy you are of his touch, how you want him around.

"Inspiration always come late, angel" he tries to defend himself as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’s a curse.”

"Then i’m afraid i’ll have to drag you to bed every night," you protest. "Cause i'm not letting you stay all night in that studio, crazy man."

"Miss me too much in bed?"

"Hm, what if I do?"

"Cannot blame you," Benedict admits later, using the only traces of force he has left to caress your hair, fingertips against your scalp in a gentle massage. "I'm always missing you when you're not around."

Your heart skips a beat: How could you not be head over heels with this man? He always find the right words, what to say exactly.

Gently, your face come up to press a soft kiss against his lips, a quick one that’s not enough for Benedict when he makes you stay in the same position as he steals a much longer one.

Life is simple with him by your side, you know it cause you might as well be over the moon when you’re alone with Benedict Bridgerton.

Every. single. day.

my masterlist.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict x reader #bridgerton x reader #ben x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fluff #cryptfile // bridgerton

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plussizefantasia · 4 months

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Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest.

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you.

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment.

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.”

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?”

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that.

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife.

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time.

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference.

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?”

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?”

“Our first meeting My Lord.”

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise.

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

Part 2

#anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #x reader #fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #plus size reader #plus size!reader #drabble #requests open #requests wanted #bridgerton

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asteriismos · 1 month

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love potions — ben hargreeves

pairing ; ben hargreeves x reader

words ; 1.1k

summary ; a normal day for you and ben, someone you didn't know if you liked or not. a blurb.

warning(s) ; sex, porn without a plot, p in v sex, fingering, unedited

He pushed you into the cold, almost sterile table, muttering something under his breath about how he only had a few minutes before he needed to go to lunch. You laughed, the sound getting cut off by his lips placing themselves on your own, like they always did. His kisses were bruising, like he was trying to prove something, and maybe he was. The harshness and brazen demeanor that enveloped him when you were around seemed to melt away with time, this certain activity that the two of you engaged in became more of a delightful reprieve than something to do to release tension. You paid no mind to it.

“Then you better make those few minutes worth it,” You whispered, taking note of the footsteps that you could hear from outside the door. This wasn’t the first time that you had snuck around in the Sparrow Academy mansion, but every time it did fill you with a sense of urgency to get things started lest the two of you be caught.

Ben let out a chuckle. “I always do.” His lips pressed to the skin of your throat, teeth grazing against your pulse point before sucking on it loosely, enough to make a mark for only a moment.

Cheeky. You thought to yourself, your hands finding refuge in his blonde hair, certain tufts of it retaining the curliness that you had known them to have during your youth. You pulled him closer, ever so closer, like you didn’t want to let him go. His hands helped to lift you up onto the table, your legs opening and his body slotting in between them, a perfect practiced dance. Your outfit was much more relaxed than your usual fabrics, (perhaps something you had thought out before coming here, but he didn't need to know that), a low cut black skirt making for easy access during these moments in between your busy lives. His hips grinded against yours for only a moment, a gasp escaping your lips that was captured by another searing hot kiss, enough to know that he was telling you to be quiet. He continued to kiss you as his hand came down under your skirt, fingertips ghosting against your inner thighs before reaching where you wanted him most.

He was met with a wet, sticky mess, an after effect of the fact that the two of you hadn’t fucked in over a week. Despite all of his brain power wanting to tease you for it, he found himself keeping this as a silent victory, the pad of his thumb coming in contact with your clit, slipping one finger in and curling it. You arched your back forward only slightly, already conveying the message that you wanted him inside you already. “Patience,” He whispered.

You whined. He was the one who wanted to go to lunch anyways, and now he was stringing you along? You had half a mind to fight back, but the words died in your throat as he added a second finger, slipping in almost effortlessly. He continued to pump them in and out at a languid pace, his left hand holding your waist so that you couldn’t move. He was keeping the rhythm, not you. All the while his thumb kept rubbing against your clit, making you a squirming mess in his hands like putty.

“Ben,” You breathed. “Come on, please.”

He hummed in response, acting as if he didn’t hear you. But he did, because soon enough he was withdrawing his fingers, hands working to free himself from his neatly pressed pants, his cock springing free in a matter of seconds. You wrapped your hands around his neck, his face coming into the crook of your own as he guided himself towards your entrance, the tip of his cock grazing as if to tease, before sheathing itself in. Once he bottomed out, he already started a fast rhythm, giving you little to no time to adjust. but you were so needy you didn’t care, not one bit because he was making you feel so good that you wished for this moment to last forever. and you were already so wet and willing, Ben couldn’t wait a second longer.

If he was tired from staying up all night to train or whatever his father made him do these days, he didn’t even show it. Ben fucked into you with such a frenzy that it was almost animalistic, which made you wonder how much energy this man possibly had. What you didn’t know was it was your moans what were spurring him on, your moans that kept him going. And you loved it so much that you couldn’t think straight. all you could do was try and keep yourself still, words stringing together into barely put together sentences of oh fuck yes and that feels so good. It was a moment of such pure bliss that you didn’t even feel yourself start to clench around him, noticing it finally when you felt every inch of him scrape against your willing walls, bringing you closer to that cliff into a sea of pleasure that only he could give you. What finally made you break was the groans that he was making, which were hot and heavy and like heaven to your ears that you knew you would be playing on repeat before you went to sleep tonight.

His hand slipped between your legs, pressing up against your swollen clit and that was it. You were sent into a state of pure, fucked out bliss as you came around him, your moans being muffled by the shirt he was wearing, your mouth pressed against it to try and stifle all your noises in the moment. With a few more demanding thrusts, Ben was spilling himself inside of you, a groan of contentment falling from his lips as his head dropped to your shoulder. Your legs were still wrapped around him, shaking from the change of pace, relishing in the moment that the two of you were sharing together. You barely had any time to refocus yourself before he was pulling out, a few remnants of his cum dripping out of you that you saved by pushing your underwear back into place.

“Lunch better still be in the kitchen,” He spoke, zipping up his pants and latching his belt. “If it’s not, you’re buying dinner tonight.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Dinner?” Usually you two would never go out together. But before he answered, Ben had already left the room.

#ben hargreeves headcanons #ben hargreeves smut #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves #the umbrella academy commissions #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy

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mickyschumacher · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: being in a secret relationship with lando norris has been a journey in itself. but nothing comes harder than the moments where you both struggle to keep your hands off one another.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it before your tap it lol), cumming inside, voyeurism, fingering, slight handjob, boyfriend established but secret, cute cringe couple humour, obvious pining, poor knowledge of pr specialist things, mentions of mental health and stress, mclaren in itself needs a warning, mention of fave menace w*ll b*xton (simply ew), allusion of future marriage

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x mclaren’s pr specialist!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is based of taylor swift’s ‘dress’! okay, so i’m giving you lovelies this one and some others while i study for my last exam 😔 i actually have some requests which are exciting and nerve wrecking but i'm gonna try my level best to do them after my exam. although i’m also supposed be on a plane not too soon after. anyways, thank you so much for your support and patience ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

As a PR specialist, things were constantly changing. For example, for a certain amount of time you were assigned to Fernando Alonso when he was under McLaren. Quite honestly, it was a nightmare.

There was nothing wrong with Fernando. For the time you had spent with him, he was rather sweet. But the media had painted him out as some sort of tyrant of McLaren, claiming that the F1 team belonged to him as opposed to being owned by Zak Brown. Then again, you supposed the Spaniard’s lack of care for listening didn’t help either.

When learning that Fernando was leaving, you could only hope that whoever you were assigned to next was less work than him.

In came Lando Norris, a young driver with ambition and humour, and lucky for you, little work.

Somehow he just knew the right things to say. And if he didn’t, he was always asking you beforehand.

Between the both of you there was only a two year age gap so of course it was easy to befriend each other. You were always talking about something to the other.

His passion for DJing, his childhood or your love for travelling and the gossip of certain celebrities. How you were absolutely certain JLo and Ben Affleck was a PR couple because who on earth had a nude portrait of themselves above their bed?

It wasn’t until almost a year ago where you realised you liked him more than just a friend. There was just something about the way you two communicated that left in trailed sighs, awkward laughs desperate to talk more and grins that got your hearts pacing.

Or perhaps it was the way you had poured your hearts out to one another. As happy as Lando looked, he was one under a lot of pressure which affected is mental health. You were there for all of this ups and downs. You were his number on speed dial for everything.

And when things got a little too much for you, Lando did his best to not only be there for you but to cheer you up. Stupid jokes, random flowers and, teddy bears.

How were you not supposed to like him?

Surprisingly, Lando had been the one to confess his feelings to you. Well, only after one of the engineers from Mercedes was openly trying to court you at an F1 dinner.

Lando had gotten so jealous that he had pulled you aside that evening and begged you to not think of anyone else but him. That you were only supposed to smile like that at him… with him.

At first, you were thrilled and kind of shocked that Lando felt the same way. But that happiness and smile he liked so much quickly faded when you thought about your job.

‘F1’s Lando Norris is dating his PR specialist’…

Yeah… the implications of that sounded terrible. You could imagine it already. What was Lando hiding to date his publicist? Is Lando that good of a person?

And while you and all the people knew the truth, those types of rumours would’ve undermined your job in the first place and honestly, you were sure that McLaren wouldn’t exactly be jumping with excitement that you two were dating.

So you mentioned this to Lando with the suggestion of being secret about your relationship for now.

You could literally see some of the shine in his eyes fade. He was gutted but he understood what you meant. He’d rather be with you secretly than not at all and without his best friend.

our secret moments in a crowded room

they've got no idea about me and you

there is an indentation in the shape of you

made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

Your relationship with him had been a roller coaster. Neither of you had been in a secret relationship and neither of you could deny how fun it was.

Take right now for example. Today was the McLaren’s car launch for the 2023 F1 season. The room was filled to the brim with all sorts of people: journalists, publicists, engineers, marketers, social media managers, the new driver next to Lando, Oscar.

Yet with all those people, Lando and you found it impossible to not find each other. You were constantly meeting each others eyes, especially when you were nearby for his interviews.

There was a thrill, you must admit, about no one knowing about the two of you.

A rush of adrenaline at the thought that no one knew nor expected you to be in Lando’s bedroom this very morning before the launch.

“Remember to be sort of vague about the car and, well, everything. I mean obviously but I don’t think Will’s going down without a fight,” you reminded your boyfriend with an annoyed sigh.

Will Buxton was not only a F1 journalist but a man who got under everyone’s skin. You couldn’t fathom why people liked him in the first place.

Lando, who was leaning on his elbow on his bed, gave a hum of response. He only had half of his mind present as he watched you get ready. “Surely, this can’t be fair,’ He asked.

You raised a brow at him through the mirror. “What?” You queried before putting on a necklace. Sorry, attempting to. You weren’t exactly sure why the clasps of necklaces were made so poorly.

Lando got up from the bed and walked up behind you. He grabbed the necklace from your hands with an amused expression before bringing it to your neck. With one hand, he pushed your hair to the side and joined the clasp to the metal ring. He rested his fingers on the back of your neck, slowly rubbing the area as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“I mean, you get to wear this,” Lando started. His hands ran over the satin silk material of your black dress. It was fairly casual, landing mid-thigh. Perfect enough for you to blend into the crowd. Although, it didn’t matter for Lando. He could always pick you from the crowd. Especially, if you were wearing this. “And I wear this? It doesn’t seem fair,” he whispered into your ear.

You let out a small laugh, eyeing his new uniform for the season. You turned to face him, rubbing your hands over his chest and pretending to dust it. “I think you look quite good, love.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. You felt his hand travel up your neck and to your lips. “When did you even buy this? It wasn’t even in your closet?”

Your heart started to pace when you caught that knowing glint in his eyes. His mended brows seemed to ease when you didn’t respond. Sometimes you didn’t need to open your mouth to say anything. Instead, you let your eyes talk.

A small grin came to his face. He turned you to face the mirror. His hands came alive, roaming your thigh and waist. “Just for me, huh?” Lando smiled.

“Lando,” you warned weakly. You had a feeling where this was going. Honestly, you weren’t opposed to it. But the both of you needed to clock in soon. “It’s supposed to come off after the launch.”

Lando pursed his lips, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and meeting your gaze. “Oh, it supposed to come off too? Jesus, I don’t think I can’t wait that long.”

Lando could feel the perfume he has come to love so much infiltrate his nose. God, this dress and now the perfume. How on earth was he going to get out of here?

“Fuck,” He murmured out. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on your shoulder. He needed to get himself together. But the thing about your skin was that it was so inviting… so warm.

You felt his his arms wrap around your waist as you added some finishing touches to your look. Lando pouted at you through the mirror.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed, squishing his cheeks with your free hand.

“I don’t think I can leave this room. I can’t,” Lando groaned, starting a line of kisses on your neck.

“Lando…” You whimpered out pathetically, feeling your neck stretch out even more willingly. You could feel him close in on the one area near your ear.

“Fuck, Lando. Not there,” You swore but with no effort to stop him.

Lando’s greed seem to increase upon your exclaim. He furthered his attack on the spot, sucking enough of your intoxicating skin, not only to get his full but leave a fresh purple mark.

Now he was satisfied enough to leave the room.

You watched his lips leave your skin, almost leaving you to pour for a second before that dark spot on your skin caught your eyes.

You gasped. “You didn’t,” you said in disbelief, whacking your boyfriend.

Lando’s blues twinkled at you as he planted a cheeky kiss to your cheek. “I did.”

Now you were in a room of all these people. It was exhilarating for Lando to know that he had given you a tattoo of some sorts. To attend those interviews and know that behind your carefully placed hair, he had given you something no one else would ever… yeah, he was aching to leave.

It wasn’t any less for you. Even last night you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were walking around with the fact that you knew what was underneath the damn racing gear. The scratches and indentations of your hands on his skin caused by the will to bring Lando even closer to you.

all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

my hands are shaking from holding back from you… ha, ah, ah

all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

my hands are shaking from all this… ah, ha, ha, ha

Lando was looking at you probably more than one should look at their PR specialist to the point he was sure you could feel his eyes on you.

But he couldn't help. Every little thing you did in that dress had caught his attention.

Your pinky-red painted lips covering the champagne glass you held. Those lips he wanted for himself. On him. Everywhere. Now.

The occasional brush of your hands that sent shudders he had to surpress.

The lights of the venue practically spotlighting you so everyone could see how beautiful you looked. So Lando could see exactly how nicely the dress clung to everyone of those damning curves.

The polite smiles you offered every single person you met. A gesture that sent his heart racing.

The forced polite laughter and chuckles you gave to the people that flirted with you. A gesture that made him both proud and frustrated. Proud in that you were clearly faking it because he knew what your real smile and laugh was. Hell, he had the pleasure of making it everyday. And that people clearly found you as beautiful as he did. Frustrated because people were clearly into you and he could do nothing but watch in silence.

Lando couldn't blame them either. If he was them, he too would've stopped to impress. But he didn't need to. Not when you were his entirely and he yours.

The more he looked at you the more his hands shook and his patience wore thin. His hands ached for this day to end, for him to take you to his room, and remove that goddamn dress.

He could imagine what his former teammates Carlos and Daniel say. Something along the lines of "stop staring at her like you want to eat her".

Which, in all honestly, wasn't true.

Lando didn't want to eat you. He wanted to devour you. Slowly and gently. He wanted to appreciate you... all of you. So much that only his name was falling from those beautiful lips of yours.

say my name and everything just stops

i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

carve your name into my bedpost

'cause i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

Lando couldn't imagine the poor luck he had. The event was finally over and he was home. Without you.

You had become slightly tied with some last minute discussions with the reporters and journalists, even your dear favourite Will.

Which meant for the past hour, Lando had nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts that consisted only of you, that dress, and what he was going to do with you.

What was he supposed to do?

Unbothered to put on a new change of clothes, Lando was in bed only in his boxers which had a very obvious bulge.

Lando let out a sigh, his hand brushing over his clothed cock. "Fuck," he muttered out through a clenched jaw. If it was any other day, he would've lost all self-control and jerked off to his thoughts of you. But you were going to be home soon and he desperately wanted to feel you.

"Lando? Honey, I'm home!" Your voice echoed through his house, teasing him.

Lando whipped his head up, feeling all his thoughts and emotions briefly stop as he darted towards the entrance.

You were taking of your heels when you saw Lando stand in all his glory almost naked. You couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Oh my... I thought we discussed you not walking around the house naked, Lando."

Lando said nothing. Instead, he took a step towards, eyes searching your face and arms encircling your body closer to him.

The hairs on your body stood straight while goosebumps started to sprawl across your skin. Lando's thumb brushed across your bottom lip. "You were later than expected," He said in a tone that almost neared a whine.

You let out a sigh, kissing the tip of his thumb. "I know. I'm sorry, baby."

Lando grinned. "It's okay," He quipped before scooping you up in his arms.

You let out a yelp before smiling as Lando ventured to your bedroom. You could soon feel the soft sheets of your bed touch your skin while Lando hovered over you.

"You have to tell me what the deal with this dress is, love," Lando whispered. His finger slid under the strap of your dress before trailing all the way down to your bare breast.

You opened your mouth to answer but not even a hint of a sound came out as Lando's finger circled your nipple gently. You met his eager blue eyes, waiting for answer.

"I only bought this dress so you can take it off. Simple as that."

Lando let out a low exhale, feeling his cock harden even further. God, were you even real?

"Yeah?" He hummed, pushing the straps of your dress down your arms. He pushed his face down lower, wrapping his lips around your nipple as he continued to pull your dress down your body.

Your back arched on the bed, pushing yourself into his mouth even further. Without a word, you lifted your hips up and Lando had fully taken the dress off.

His other hand reached your other nipple, paying it an equal amount of attention. He rolled the pebbled mound between his thumb and index finger, giving it a slight squeeze.

You let out a small whimper. Your hand navigating through his short curls. You could feel your core tighten and your pussy become slick with your arousal.

Lando unlatched his lips from your breasts, using both hands to gently thumb your nipples. "Tell me want you want, love. I want to hear it from these pretty lips."

God... you couldn't even decide. "I don't know. I want your lips. Your fingers. Fuck, I want it all."

Lando couldn't help but grin as a he felt a surge of energy rush through. "I can do it all," He chuckled before bringing his lips to yours. His tongue darted between your lips and into your mouth. His hands trailed up and down your waist while a muffled moan came out of his mouth.

You kissed him back with the same intensity of fervor, bringing your hands around his neck, willing him closer to you.

Lando could tell by the slight squirm of your legs, you were getting impatient down there. Slowly, he trailed down your waist and reached your panties. His own lips quirked at the damp material. Pressing his fingers into your core, he could feel a shudder overcome you.

Lando continued his assault on your lips as he rubbed you through your panties.

You removed your lips in a gasp for air. "Don't tease, Lando," You moaned out, clenching your thighs so it trapped his hand to your pussy.

Lando chuckled. He used his free hand to brush over your swollen lips. God, he wanted those lips around his cock. Maybe tomorrow morning. Or maybe in the shower tonight. Right now, he wanted to focus on you. "Say please. A good girl should always use her manners, no?"

This good girl thing had always infuriated you. It felt childish. But then it paled in comparison to the tingling and blossoming sensation of Lando's fingers rubbing your clit.

But of course, if you were going to be a good girl, you were always going for extra credit.

"Please, Lando. Fuck. I need your fingers. Please. I love the way they fill me up. The way they feel in me. Please."

Lando wanted to grin. But all he could do was groan in response. How could he not reward his dear overachiever?

His fingers pulled down your panties, snatching down the damp material past your legs. A guttural sound of pure sin fell from his mouth as he saw your pussy. It glistened in front of him, almost as if it was flooded. Sliding his fingers down those soaked folds, he watched you writhe under him and whimper.

Lando kept his eyes on you as he pushed two fingers into you slowly. He could feel your core envelope him and welcome him graciously. He watched your back arch once he began thrusting into a pace, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.

"Shit," you moaned, reaching for your breasts to both add even more pleasure and bring some sort of sanity. "Faster, baby. Please."

Lando sped up the pace of his fingers, bringing his thumb to rub your clit. His eyes flickered to your pussy. He licked his lips. You were swollen and engorged. Your puffy lips continuously took him in and it was almost paining his cock that he wasn't inside you yet.

A new intense wave of euphoria settled over you. Your body convulsed with a buzz that provided the almost silent moans from your mouth. "Fuck.... I... I'm gonna come," You moaned out, head falling back as your mind became clouded with pleasure.

Lando's cock throbbed from not being touched. He could do it no longer.

The whine you released when Lando took his fingers out of you almost made him want to put them back in. But instead, with a speed he had never even found in his car, he took off his boxers and hovered over your body.

"I know. I know," Lando murmured, pressing his lips into yours to silence your begging plea.

You placed your own fingers in your mouth, drenching them in your saliva. Removing them, your hand travelled down his waist, brushing past his v-line before circling your hand around his cock. You could feel Lando moan into the kiss, briefly stilling at your touch.

Slowly you rubbed him up and down, dangerously thumbing the slit of his cock. You watched as your saliva lubed him, giving him a unique shine. Your shine.

"Jesus fucking christ," Lando moaned out. He was sure if you kept up like this, he was going to cum in your hands rather than inside you.

"Fuck, as much I love your hands and touch. I need to be in you, baby," Lando sighed, removing your hand from his cock and slowly pressing into your body to slide his cock up and down your pussy.

You moaned at his words, feeling his lips wrap around your nipple once again.

"Stop teasing," You panted. The buzz created by the tip of his cock rubbing your clit was almost paining and torturous.

Lando didn't even mean to tease. But even just feeling your pussy felt like a different type of high. He groaned, pushing the tip of his cock into your swollen lips. A rush of warmth surged through him as he laid in you for a brief moment.

Your pussy was a safe haven. A cocoon made for his cock. This high... this pleasure... he could feel it with no one than you.

You sobbed in ecstasy. Lando was almost bring cruel. You raised your hips, fucking yourself onto your cock.

Lando had to keep himself above you, almost collapsing at your action. He let out a small laugh at your impatience before he started to move in you.

As he thrusted into you, you could feel his cock glide through your folds, reaching those familiar areas of arousal. You clenched your walls around him teasingly, silently urging him to speed.

"Fucking hell," Lando hissed out, speeding up the movement of your hips.

Sweat and arousal doused the both of you as the room was full of your pants and the obscene sound of your skin slapping.

"I'm gonna cum soon, baby," Lando said once you clenched around him once again. This clenching action always drove him overboard. It pulled him in even further into you and pressured his cock to pulse inside of you.

"It's okay. Cum with me," You moaned, bringing him into a sloppy kiss.

Your muffled moans became impossibly higher as Lando rutted into you at a merciless speed. The wave of pleasure and euphoria that had sprawled across the both of you was inexplicable. A transient unearthly state of mind. A paradox of what was holy and unholy.

Your hands had found their way to Lando's back. Your fingernails dug lightly into the smooth skin of his back. You dragged them down as your hips bucked higher in the chase of the climax.

"Fuck! Lando!" You cursed.

Lando could feel his cock twitch and throb inside you. The nails. His name. Your lips. It was any second now. "Fuck. Say my name, Y/N!"

'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless. 'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless.

"Lando!" You moaned, "I love you so much, Lando! Fuck!"

Your loud groans disturbed the quiet peace of the air as Lando and you felt the wave of euphoria hit you hard, his hips stilled within you. His body shook, warming your walls and folds with an influx of white.

Lando let out a soft moan, chin falling into your shoulder while both your sweaty bodies pressed together. You could still feel Lando's cock within you, giving every last dribble of cum to you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you.," Lando's hoarse voiced mantra made it's way into your ear. He planted a lazy kiss onto your shoulder before turning his body to face the ceiling. "Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N."

You turned on the side of your body, leaning on your hand. Your eyes were weighed with exhaustion but nevertheless you smiled at him. "I guess I should buy more dresses often," You joked.

You could feel Lando's body rumble with a gentle chuckle. His hand reached to move your sweat-ridden hair behind your ears. His blue eyes trailed over your face, in awe of how he had gotten this lucky in his life. The woman he loved so much was right next to him and he hoped forever.

Lando smiled at you, bringing your fingers to kiss them. He briefly thought backed to the small box he had managed to hide away in his closet. Three podiums. He was going to get three podiums and make sure that ring adorned your finger.

"Love, I'll buy all the dresses you want. And I'll take them off for you too."

#f1 x reader #mickyschumacher #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1

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formulafics · 7 months

Text

❀ NEW DESIRE | MV1

SCENARIO: you and max are childhood friends. despite claiming a platonic relationship - or rather, not claiming a romantic one, fans are certain that there’s more to what you both have, especially when max openly simps for you on streams, and most definitely when his private account gets leaked.

PAIRING: max verstappen x fem!reader

AN: i am so sorry this has taken me so long to get to! that being said, i hope you still enjoy it! thank you for your patience and your request 🫶🏻 also i did use google translate for the dutch part so if you speak dutch im so sorry LMFAO

as always, a shoutout to @renarots because these fics truly would not be as good without their input. <3

if you saw me change the title, no you didn’t

MASTERLIST

YNLN on Instagram stories

grandprixsandgossip on instagram

14,567 likes

grandprixsandgossip for a long time, fans of max verstappen have questioned his relationship with childhood friend yn ln. recently, the formula one drivers’ private instagram account posts were leaked after a fan somehow was accepted to follow his private account, which features many pictures of him and yn, dating all the way back to 2014.

you can find the archive of his posts on our website by following the link in our bio. while we weren’t able to gather every comment and like, we were able to get a majority of the posts!

what are your thoughts?

view all 782 comments

formulaverstappen okay so this is pure he-said-she-said, but apparently on the holidays post, max’s sister commented “just friends? 😉” and max responded with the 😳 emoji I AM SICK

rizzciardo anyone who still thinks they’re just friends is LYING to their self

lnnation haunted by the fact that yn learned dutch for max and she helped him learn english

formulanorriz if he doesn’t ask her out at this rate, IM GOING TO

GRANDPRIXSANDGOSSIP.COM

maxemillianv on instagram

maxemillianv goede race, nog betere mensen ❤️ of moet ik zeggen persoon haha (great race, even better people or should i say person haha)

ynln zoveel liefde voor jou. ik ben zo trots op je ❤️🏆 (so much love for you. i’m so proud of you. )

maxemillianv on instagram

maxemillianv out of office

maxemillianv on instagram

maxemillianv happy holidays 🎄

victoriaverstappen just friends? 😉

It’s funny, the way Max is. He’s blunt all the time, but this is different. A part of you is worried that maybe he’s upset, that perhaps something like this will be the reason you and him stray apart - you can’t imagine it. The thought of being anything but with Max matches your chest tighten, and even though you’d like to think that isn’t the case, you can’t be sure.

The wait for Max to arrive at your house is almost torturous. Your mind is racing, and by the time you hear his car pull up, you’re damn near shaking out of your skin. He doesn’t even have to knock or ring the doorbell - hell, he’s barely out of the car when you open your front door and step outside. You study his body language, trying to determine what exactly to expect. You just can’t clock it. With a sharp inhale, you lock your door and then make your way towards the car.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, uncertainty making your voice waver. “Yes,” Max responds simply. It’s a genuine yes, and in fact, he sounds almost happy. Your brows furrow in confusion as he opens the passenger side door for you, and you genuinely don’t think you could be more puzzled. You press your lips together as he returns to the drivers seat and starts the car again, not waiting to pull out of the driveway.

“Max, you’re scaring me,” you say. Scared isn’t the right word, but it’s something along those lines. His eyes stay on the road, yours are fixed on his face, still trying so desperately to read him. He glances at you, offers a small smile, then reaches over to grab your hand. He intertwined your fingers, assuring you that there’s nothing to worry about. It’s still odd - the whole situation, but that does make you feel more relaxed.

It’s quiet for longer than you’d like it to be. Aside from the radio, which is on a low volume, and the smooth rumble of the vehicle, it’s silent.

Finally, Max speaks. “I’m not worried about the posts,” he says, glancing at you for the second time. You find yourself wishing he could look at you for longer, a weird feeling washing over you as his eyes return to the road. He squeezes your hand subconsciously, his thumb soothing over the back of it. “Seriously?” you almost forgot to respond, but at the last minute, you remember his statement. “Seriously,” Max hums. The smile returns to his lips, and much to your relief, he expounds.

“Sure, it’s not ideal, but at the same time,” he pauses, and you can tell he’s trying to think of how to describe it. He chuckles briefly, “The only way to put it is that it’s made me realize that you’re so much more than a good friend.”

You’re still stumped. Now, you’re realizing that you don’t even know where Max is taking you - not that you’re worried about it, but the whole situation is just so strange, especially for you and Max. Thus, you remain silent, eyes never leaving him. You’re waiting for him to say something else, and he’s waiting for you to respond, assuming that you’d understand what he’s saying. Hes the first to realize that you don’t understand, and amused smile playing on his lips at your confusion. “Hold on, you’ll know what I mean when we get there,” He says, and this is somehow so Max, but not him at all, leaving you to sit silently, at least a million thoughts filling your mind.

Max pulls into a parking lot, and it only takes you a moment to realize you know where you are. You’ve been here with him once before, and you still remember that night so vividly. That was the first - and only - time you had ever questioned your feelings for Max. Any other time, you never had to think about how you felt. You knew you were happy with him, and it was the same for him. You didn’t need to know if you loved him, and he didn’t need to know if he loved you.

Now that the memories are coming back to your mind, it begins to dawn on you, what Max said. Regardless, you stay quiet and let him guide you into the club, hand still in his. He takes you to the very spot you both sat the first night you came here, and this time, rather than an empty booth and table, there’s a large bouquet of white roses sitting atop the table, a small note folded beside them. You aren’t sure what to say, or what to do. Your eyes flicker between the roses, the note, and Max, who carefully pulls you closer, his free hand now resting on the small of your back.

“I’ll give you the choice - you can read the card or I can relay it to you,” he says. You choose what first comes to mind. “Relay it to me.” Max nods, then turns you to face him, his hands on your waist. Instinctively, you place yours on his shoulders. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks, and even though you’re certain that his words are the briefest summary of what’s in the card, you can’t be bothered. A smile takes over your expression and you nod. Max smiles too, pulling you into a tight hug.

The rest of the night, you continued on like you would have had he not asked you to be his girlfriend. There was no need for things to be different. In fact, the only thing that would change from here would be the pure admiration you both have always had for one another, and that was perfectly fine with you. Somewhere along the line, a certain friend showed up, and you did eventually read the card.

Safe to say, Max’s recap of the words written in the card were indeed brief. Your heart is happy knowing that only you would see such a soft, loving side of him, and only you would be able to clearly picture your best friend- boyfriend, all mushy as he writes the card.

maxverstappen1 on instagram

liked by ynln, landonorris, danielricciardo, pierregasly, and 324,512 others

maxverstappen1 my ❤️

view all 7,432 comments

landonorris okay i guess we don’t do photo creds anymore 😒

⤷ maxverstappen1 👍📸

ynln so much love for you always. ❤️

⤷ maxverstappen1 ❤️🔄

⤷ formulaverstappen IS THIS HIS WAY OF SAYING THAT BACK TO YN??? THERE ARE REAL TEARS IN MY EYES

victoriaverstappen very ‘just friends’ of you

⤷ maxverstappen1 👀

⤷ mv331lvr YALL EITHER GET THIS OR YOU DONT IM GOING INSANE

ln4nation THE FACT THAT LANDO TOOK THESE AND WAS THERE WITJ THEM IM GAGGED

papayabull YN AND MAX CONFIRMED DATING THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

TAGLIST

@renarots @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @vellicora @spidersophie @arkhammaid @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @leclercvsx @sleepeatread @kortneej81 @elliegrey2803 @i-love-ptv @motorsp0rt @fastcarsandshit @marshmummy @jellyfish123guts @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @sadieurlady @piasstrisblog @pretty-little-bunny382728 @lokietro @stopeatread

Thank you for reading! 🌷

#✩ . mv¹ files 🏎️#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smau #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen fluff #mv1 fic #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x you #mv33 #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 x you

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zepskies · 6 days

Note

hi zep!! do you have a fic rec list for soldier boy or any fave soldier boy fics/writers in general?

Hey there!

Ah, I should've known this question was coming lol. The answer is, I do now! 💚

Stories are Soldier Boy x Reader unless otherwise specified. This is 18+ only content!

@waynes-multiverse -

Bad Reputation Summary: In a world full of careless supes, powerful people, and corruption on all levels, Y/N’s the typical millennial, trying to make the world a better place one good deed at a time. As a civil rights lawyer in New York City, justice, kindness, and selflessness are her motto. Her patience is tested, however, when none other than America’s ass himself shows up on her doorstep and needs help. [series complete]

Soldier Boy Masterlist - Recommending everything she writes, because I've read and loved it all.~

@venus-haze -

She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best Summary: Soldier Boy’s been pulled from the European Theater to sell war bonds to the American people, the goodwill tour dotted by big cities and small towns alike. In the meantime, he gets familiar with the variety of women in dazzling costumes that accompany his speeches with carefully choreographed dances. You’re, without a doubt, his favorite of them all.

Watch Honey Drip, Can't Keep Away Summary: America’s golden son can't keep his eyes off of you, almost like he wants to devour you whole...or something like that.

Power Play Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.

@luci-in-trenchcoats -

The Boys Masterlist (I'm about to read Thunder in Our Hearts in particular.)

@rizlowwritessortof -

Gladiator Reborn

Gladiator Reborn Part 2

Say It Summary: Ben has a jealous streak, and you have a stubborn streak - but only one of you can win.

@kaleldobrev

Soldier Boy Masterlist

@lamentationsofalonelypotato -

Take a Chance on Me Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think?

I'll keep adding to this list as I read more of this (charming) asshole.

Soldier Boy Masterlist || Main Masterlist

169 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 7 months

Text

✨Stupid Movie Night✨

Summary: You and Ben had been through a lot lately. A movie night with friends was obviously not a good idea. Or was it?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, anxious Reader, Ben being a huge dick, hurting you - but also a soft little bean, kinda depressing guys

Word Count: 5365

A/N: I've been on this for what feels like forever and I hope you like it. 💙

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you and Ben prepared for the movie night with Annie and Hughie, the atmosphere crackled with tension. You busied yourself with selecting an outfit, your excitement palpable as you anticipated spending time with friends. Meanwhile, Ben lounged indifferently on the couch, scrolling through his phone with disdain evident on his face.

"Why do we have to go to this stupid movie night anyway?", Ben grumbled, his annoyance and disdain dripping from every word.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin as you turned to face him. "Because, Ben, we agreed to spend time with our friends."

Ben scoffed. "I don't care about them. I just care about you, babe", he said, his tone dripping with possessiveness.

Your eyes narrowed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You know what, stay here and I'll go alone”.

Ben's expression darkened. "You're not going without me", he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

You bristled at his assertion, your resolve hardening. "Watch me", you retorted, storming past him to grab your coat.

A tense silence settled between the two of you as you stood at an impasse, your relationship hanging in the balance. After a moment, Ben's pride gave way to a begrudging acknowledgment of your independence. With a resigned sigh, he followed you out the door, his ego bruised but his desire to keep you by his side outweighing his disdain for socializing with anyone but you.

As you made your way to Hughie and Annie's house, Ben's resentment simmered beneath the surface, his muttering curses punctuating the silence between the two of you.

You glanced over at him, your frustration evident in your furrowed brow. "Could you at least try to be civil?", you snapped, your tone tinged with exasperation.

Ben scoffed, his lips twisting into a sneer. "Why bother? None of these people matter except you, Y/N", he spat.

You shook your head in disbelief. "Ben. We're here to spend time with our friends, whether you like it or not".

Ben rolled his eyes, his disdain palpable. "Fine, but don't expect me to enjoy myself", he muttered darkly.

You sighed, your frustration mounting. "Just try to keep your attitude in check, okay? For my sake, if not for yours".

Ben grunted in response, his resentment simmering just beneath the surface as you arrived at your destination, tensions thickening the air between the two of you.

As you approached Hughie and Annie's house, Ben plastered on a fake smile.

"Welcome to the land of fun and excitement", he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with insincerity.

You shot him a pissed glare. "Benjamin! Behave yourself, damn it!”, you hissed through clenched teeth.

Ben shrugged, his facade slipping slightly as he grudgingly acquiesced. "Sure thing, darling", he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at the nickname. Your annoyance reached its breaking point. "Don't call me that", you snapped, your voice sharp with frustration.

Ben's smirk widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned in closer to you. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Can't handle a little affection?", he taunted.

Your jaw clenched, your temper flaring as you fought to keep your composure. "Stop it, Ben", you warned.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Ben brushed off your warning, his arrogance unyielding. "Relax, babe", he quipped, his smirk never faltering. "I'm just trying to be friendly."

You let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that arguing with Ben would only escalate the situation further. With a resigned shake of your head, you turned away, steeling yourself for the evening ahead, determined not to let Ben's behavior ruin the evening.

Then the front door finally opened

"Hey, guys! So glad you could make it", Annie exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug before turning to Ben.

Ben forced another insincere smile, his eyes flickering with annoyance as he exchanged pleasantries with Annie. "Yeah, wouldn't miss it for the world", he muttered under his breath, his sarcasm barely concealed.

You shot him another warning look, your gaze flashing with irritation as you subtly nudged him in the side. "Behave", you hissed through gritted teeth, your frustration palpable.

Ben rolled his eyes, but reluctantly toned down his sarcasm.

As you entered the house, Hughie greeted you warmly, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Hey, guys! Good to see you both", he said, stepping forward to shake your hands.

Ben's expression remained stoic as he accepted Hughie's greeting, his disdain evident in the way he glanced around the room. When Hughie offered you drinks, Ben's nose wrinkled in disgust as he eyed the selection of beer.

"Seriously? This is the best you've got?", Ben muttered under his breath, his arrogance seeping into his tone as he looked at the array of beers with disdain.

You looked at him, silently urging him to keep his complaints to himself, but Ben ignored you. "I'll take a whiskey, if you have one", he said.

"Sure", Annie muttered, before heading to the kitchen.

As Annie returned with a glass of whiskey for Ben, the group settled in for the evening. Despite Bens abrasive personality, Hughie and Annie welcomed him with open arms, knowing that beneath his tough exterior, Ben was still an integral part of their circle of friends.

As the evening progressed, the group settled into a comfortable rhythm, catching up on each other's lives and sharing stories over drinks. While Hughie and Annie chatted animatedly with you, Ben remained mostly silent, nursing his whiskey as he watched a football game playing on the TV in the background.

Occasionally, he'd interject with a comment or two about the game, his attention focused solely on the screen in front of him. Despite his disinterest in the conversation swirling around him, Hughie and Annie tried to include him, tossing the occasional glance his way and asking his opinion on various topics.

Ben responded with characteristic indifference, offering brief, monosyllabic answers before returning his focus to the game. You shot him a concerned glance, silently urging him to engage more with your friends, but Ben brushed off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand, his attention firmly fixed on the TV.

As Annie started the movie, Ben couldn't help but roll his eyes, irritated at being pulled away from the football game. He begrudgingly shifted his attention to the screen, his annoyance evident in the way he crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch.

Beside him, you snuggled closer, seeking comfort in his embrace as Annie did with Hughie. Ben's initial instinct was to push you away, his pride and image as America's strongest Supe overriding his desire for affection. He shot you a brief, irritated glance, silently warning you to keep your distance, but you seemed oblivious to his discomfort as you nestled against him, seeking warmth and reassurance.

Ben's frustration grew as he struggled to maintain his facade of invincibility, torn between his need for affection and his fear of appearing vulnerable. He loved you, of that there was no doubt, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that allowing himself to indulge in moments of intimacy would only weaken his carefully constructed image.

As you rested your head on his chest, you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort radiating from Ben. His tense posture and the subtle stiffness in his embrace leaving you feeling confused and hurt. You glanced up at him, searching his eyes for some semblance of reassurance, but found only a distant look that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.

"Is everything okay, Ben?", you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur as you tried to quell the rising panic in your chest.

Ben hesitated, torn between his desire to maintain his tough exterior and his fear of hurting you. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat, his pride warring with his guilt.

Your heart sank as you watched him struggle, your mind racing with self-doubt and insecurity. Did you pushed him too far with bringing him here? Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you fought to keep her emotions in check.

Things really haven't been going well between you in the last few weeks, so your nerves have been frayed and your feelings are completely confused

"I'm sorry", you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I just wanted to be close to you".

Ben's heart clenched at the sight of your tears: With a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around you more tightly, pulling you into a tight hug.

"No, Y/N, it's not you", he murmured, his voice soft with sincerity.

You buried your face against his chest, your tears mingling with the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him desperately, relieved to hear his words of reassurance.

As you buried your face in Ben's chest, Annie's super hearing caught the quiet exchange between you, her expression darkening with anger at Ben's apparent callousness. She shot him a piercing glare, her eyes narrowing with disapproval, but chose to remain silent, not wanting to escalate the situation further.

Ben met Annie's gaze with a sense of unease, realizing the weight of his actions and the hurt he had caused you.

Feeling the weight of Annie's silent judgment, Ben tightened his embrace around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering in a silent apology as he whispered words of love.

With a deep breath, Ben glanced over at Annie, his expression contrite as he silently acknowledged her disapproval.

Despite the tension in the room, you found solace in Ben's touch as he gently caressed your lower back, a silent gesture of affection and apology. You leaned into his touch, allowing yourself to relax into his embrace.

You knew that beneath his tough exterior lay a man who loved you deeply.

With each tender stroke of his hand against your back, you felt a surge of warmth and reassurance.

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, Hughie and Annie turned to you with smiles, eager to discuss the film.

"So, what do you think?", Hughie asked.

You glanced over at Ben, who was engrossed in his phone, before turning back to Hughie and Annie with a forced smile. "It was... interesting", you replied diplomatically, your tone tinged with uncertainty.

Annie raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Hughie. "Interesting?", she echoed, a playful smirk playing at her lips. "That's one way to put it".

You chuckled weakly, your discomfort evident as you tried to navigate the conversation without drawing attention to Ben's lack of engagement. "Well, you know how it is. Different strokes for different folks", you said with a nervous laugh.

Hughie and Annie nodded in understanding, sensing your discomfort and choosing to drop the subject for now. Instead, they launched into a discussion about their plans for the upcoming weekend, eager to shift the focus away from the awkwardness that hung in the air.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, grateful for your friends' understanding as you joined in the conversation, your mind still lingering on Ben's distant demeanor. You knew that the two of you had a lot to talk about once you were alone, but for now, you were content to bask in the warmth of your friends' company, thankful for the distractions they provided.

As the conversation continued and you were just about to get some snacks from the kitchen with Annie, you felt a sudden tug on your arm, causing you to wince in pain. You turned to see Ben gripping your arm with more force than necessary, his expression clouded with frustration.

"Where do you think you're going?", he muttered, his voice low and harsh as he tightened his grip on your arm.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change in Ben's demeanor, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and confusion. "I was just going to get some snacks from the kitchen", you replied hesitantly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear bubbling in your chest.

Ben's grip on your arm loosened slightly, but his expression remained cold and distant. "Well, hurry up then", he snapped, releasing your arm with a rough shove.

You recoiled at the rough treatment, your arm throbbing with pain as you scrambled to your feet, eager to escape the uncomfortable situation. You shot Ben a wary glance, but his attention was already back on his phone, his indifference like a barrier between you.

Feeling shaken and unsettled, you quickly made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with questions and doubts. You knew that something was off with Ben tonight, but you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in your stomach as you tried to make sense of his sudden change in behavior.

In the safety of the kitchen, Annie’s concerned expression softened as she approached you, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. “Hey, are you okay?”, she asked, her tone laced with genuine concern. You forced a tight smile, your nerves still on edge. “Yeah, I’m fine”, you replied, your voice strained as you tried to downplay the situation. Annie’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing that something was amiss. “You don’t seem fine”, she remarked quietly, her gaze searching your face for any sign of distress. You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal to your friend. “It’s just… Ben’s been acting strange tonight”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced back towards the living room, where Ben sat lost in his own world. Annie’s expression darkened with understanding as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve to be treated like that”, she said softly, her voice filled with sympathy.

“I just… he’s usually not like this, well, at least not to me”, you sighed. “I thought things were going well between us again, but tonight… he’s always got some bad days, but today, it’s worse”.

Annie listened attentively. She reached out, pulling you into a gentle hug, offering comfort and solace in the face of uncertainty.

"I'm sorry you're going through this", Annie murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "But you're not responsible for Ben's actions, especially if he's dealing with his own demons".

You leaned into the embrace, finding solace in Annie's warmth and understanding. "I just wish he would open up to me more", you whispered, your voice tinged with sadness. "I want to help him, but he pushes me away whenever I try".

As Ben continued to scroll through his phone in the living room, his attention drifted momentarily from the screen as he caught snippets of conversation drifting in from the kitchen. Despite his best efforts to tune them out, his super hearing picked up on Annie and your hushed discussion.

His heart clenched with a mixture of guilt and frustration as he heard your voice tremble with emotion. A pang of regret washed over him as he realized the impact his behavior had on you, the weight of his actions heavy on his conscience.

Part of him wanted to storm into the kitchen, to confront you and demand forgiveness, but another part held him back, his pride and fear of vulnerability holding him captive. He felt a surge of shame wash over him as he listened to Annie's comforting words, knowing that he didn't deserve your love and understanding.

As the conversation faded into the background, Ben was left alone with his thoughts, grappling with the harsh reality of his own shortcomings. He knew that he had a lot of work to do if he wanted to salvage his relationship with you, but deep down, he feared that he may have already pushed you too far away.

As the conversation in the kitchen drew to a close, you and Annie returned to the living room, your expressions softened by the private exchange. You approached Ben, a small smile tugging at your lips as you handed him his favorite beer, the one you had brought with from home.

Ben glanced up from his phone, surprise flickering in his eyes as he took the beer from you, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting moment of connection. He caught the subtle warmth in your smile, a silent acknowledgment of your shared history and the unspoken understanding between the two of you.

For a moment, the weight of your earlier conversation hung heavy in the air, but Ben found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to apologize, to express his remorse for his earlier behavior, but the words caught in his throat, his pride holding him back.

Instead, he met your gaze with a tentative smile of his own, silently thanking you for the gesture.

You didn't say a word as you returned to your seat beside him, but the warmth of your smile and the gentle touch of your hand on his arm spoke volumes.

As the evening drew to a close, the group made their way towards the door. Ben and you stepped outside into the cool night air, the tension from earlier still lingering between you. You glanced up at Ben, your expression softening with a mixture of affection and concern. "Are you okay?", you asked gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

Ben's reserved demeanor didn't go unnoticed by you. You withdrew your hand, wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill swept through the night air.

"Ben, please", you pleaded softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I hate when we're like this".

"Just… let's go home", he muttered, his tone curt and dismissive.

Your heart sank at his response, hurt flickering in your eyes as you recoiled from his coldness. You bit your lip, fighting back the sting of tears as you struggled to make sense of his abrupt dismissal.

"Fine", you said quietly, your voice tinged with resignation. "Let's go".

As you walked home in silence, the tension between you hung heavy in the air, the weight of Ben's words lingering like a bitter aftertaste.

At Home you quickly made your way to the bathroom, getting rid of your clothes and bracing yourself on the sink. Tears already streaming down your face. It was too much for you. Everything.

That’s when you felt your boyfriend behind you.

As Ben caught sight of your tear-streaked reflection in the mirror, his heart clenched with a pang of guilt and regret. He stepped closer to you, his own reflection looming large behind yours, his movements hesitant yet determined.

Without a word, Ben wrapped his arms around your naked body, pulling you close to him as he held you tightly against his chest. He watched your reflection in the mirror.

Your sobs echoed in the small space, your brokenness palpable as you leaned into Ben's embrace. "Do you... do you really love me?", you whispered, your voice fragile with uncertainty.

Ben's heart stuttered at your words, his own turmoil bubbling to the surface. He struggled to find the right words, his pride and emotional distance warring with his desire to comfort you.

"Of course I do", he replied finally, his voice strained but sincere. "But you know how I am, Y/N. I'm not good with... with all this emotional stuff".

Your shoulders shook with silent sobs as you buried your face against Ben's chest, your heart breaking with the weight of his words. You knew that he struggled to express his emotions, but the pain of his indifference cut deeper than you cared to admit.

Ben held you tighter, his own emotions roiling beneath the surface as he grappled with the realization of how deeply he had hurt you. Again. He wanted to reassure you, to promise you that he would do better, but the words caught in his throat, his pride and stubbornness holding him back.

In the end, all he could do was hold you close, hoping that his actions spoke louder than his words

As you trembled in his arms, Ben’s heart twisted at the sight of your pain. He cursed himself for causing you such distress, his stomach churning with guilt. With a heavy sigh, he tightened his embrace.

“Let me show you just how much I love you”, he mumbled.

“Ben”, you whispered brokenly, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with tears.

Without another word, Ben lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your weight feeling insignificant against his strength. He cradled you close to his chest, your head resting against his shoulder as he carried you out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. He lays your naked form on the bed, hovering over you.

As Ben tenderly kissed away your tears, he felt your body relax beneath him, your sobs gradually giving way to soft giggles. He smiled against your skin, the sound of your laughter like music to his ears.

"Sorry about the beard", he murmured, his voice gentle as he continued to pepper your face with featherlight kisses. "I promise I'll shave tomorrow".

You shook your head, your laughter mingling with your tears as you reached up to caress his cheek. "I don't mind", you whispered, your voice filled with love and affection. "I love your beard".

With a soft chuckle, Ben leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss, savoring the taste of you against his own. He felt you respond eagerly, your body arching against his

As Ben continued to caress your skin with tenderness and care, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unworthiness that gnawed at him. He knew deep down that he didn’t deserve your love, not after the way he had treated you earlier. But in this moment, with you wrapped in his arms, your laughter and affection washing over him like a balm for his wounded soul, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. He wanted to make things right, to show you just how much you meant to him, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone.

As you carefully pulled off Ben's shirt, he couldn't help but his instincts screamed at him to assert dominance, to remind you of his strength and power. But as he looked into your eyes, filled with nothing but love and tenderness, he knew he had to suppress those urges.

"Easy there", he muttered.

Your hands paused for a moment, a flicker of hurt crossing your features before you continued, your movements careful and deliberate. You didn't say anything in response, but Ben could see the disappointment in your eyes, a silent rebuke for his callousness. Again.

Ignoring the pang of guilt that twisted in his gut, Ben forced himself to focus on the moment. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentler than he had ever allowed himself to be.

"You know I don't do this often", he muttered, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "But for you, I'll make an exception".

Your lips quirked into a small smile at his words, your love for him shining through despite his flaws. "I know, Ben", you whispered, your fingers trailing lightly over his skin. "And I appreciate it".

With a nod, Ben leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and gratitude.

Ben reached down to unbutton his jeans, his movements slow and deliberate.

As he trailed soft kisses down your body, his lips lingered over every curve and contour, savoring the taste of your skin against his lips. He worshipped you with each touch, his movements slow and deliberate as he explored every inch of you with care and tenderness.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed up at you with a mixture of desire and reverence. He could feel you trembling beneath him, your anticipation palpable.

With a gentle touch, Ben parted your legs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your inner thighs as he teased you with featherlight kisses. He felt you gasp in response, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you as you arched your back in pleasure.

As he lowered his head between your legs, Ben closed his eyes, losing himself in the taste and scent of your arousal. He moved with agonizing slowness, his tongue tracing languid circles around your most intimate areas, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

With each flick of his tongue, Ben felt himself grow more and more aroused, his own need building to a fever pitch. But he forced himself to hold back, to maintain the slow and steady pace that he knew you loved.

And as he continued to worship you with his mouth, he felt your body respond to his touch, your pleasure building to a crescendo that threatened to consume both of you.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, your body tensed and trembled beneath Ben's touch. With a soft cry of ecstasy, you came undone, your release washing over you in waves of pure bliss.

Ben held himself back, resisting the urge to give in to his own desires as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue. He felt you shudder and moan as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body trembling with the intensity of your pleasure.

When you finally began to relax, Ben withdrew from you, his lips lingering over your skin as he pressed soft kisses along your body. Your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him close.

With a mischievous smirk, Ben looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with desire as he whispered, "Want to get fucked nice and slow, just how you like it?".

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at his bold question, your breath catching in your throat as you met his intense gaze. You could feel the undeniable heat of his arousal pressing against you, his erection throbbing against your wet folds.

Your heart raced with anticipation as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Yes, Ben. Please".

With a satisfied grin, Ben leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound urgency. He positioned himself between your legs, his gaze locking with yours.

As Ben guided himself inside you, he exerted a tremendous amount of restraint, controlling his movements with a deliberate slowness that bordered on agonizing. Every inch of his body burned with desire, but he clenched his fists around the bed frame above your head, channeling all his strength into maintaining the gentle pace you craved.

With each measured thrust, Ben savored the exquisite sensation of being enveloped by your warmth. He buried himself deep inside you, relishing the intimate connection you shared, his gaze locked with yours as he slowly started to move.

Despite the overwhelming urge to surrender to his own desires, Ben remained steadfast in his commitment to pleasuring you.

As the two of you moved together in the darkness of your bedroom, Ben pressed gentle kisses along your neck, his lips trailing caresses along your skin. He whispered softly against your ear, his voice filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.

"Is this nice, baby?", he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Do you like it when I take things slow for you?".

Your response was a soft moan of pleasure, your body arching against his as you surrendered yourself to the sensation of his lips on your skin. You buried your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting his angle to deepen his thrusts.

As Ben continued to move inside you, he felt a primal urge building within him, driving him to take you harder, faster. But he resisted, determined to maintain the slow and steady pace that you wanted.

"You feel so tight, Y/N", he groaned, his voice filled with longing as he continued to thrust into you with measured precision. "I want to make you feel every inch of me".

With each thrust, Ben focused on savoring the sensation of your warmth enveloping him, his movements deliberate and controlled. He alternated between shallow and deep thrusts, teasing you with the promise of pleasure as he explored every inch of you with care.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, your moans growing louder with each passing moment as you surrendered herself completely to the pleasure coursing through you.

You arched your back in ecstasy, your fingers digging into his skin as you urged him on with desperate cries of longing.

As Ben continued to move inside you, he felt a surge of desire building within him. With a gentle touch, he traced his fingers lightly your clit, teasing you with light caresses that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your response was immediate and intense. You cried out in ecstasy as your body convulsed with pleasure, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Ben could feel your walls clenching around him, your release gripping him with an intensity he had never felt before.

He held you close as you rode out the waves of pleasure, his own desire building to a fever pitch as he watched you.

As your body convulsed with pleasure, Ben couldn’t hold back any longer. The intensity of your orgasm coupled with the sight of you surrendering to ecstasy was too much for him to bear. With a guttural groan, he gave in to the overwhelming sensation, spilling himself deep inside you.

As the waves of pleasure subsided and the two of you lay tangled together in the aftermath, Ben let out a contented sigh, feeling more relaxed and fulfilled than he had in a long time. He held you close, your bodies still pressed together in an intimate embrace, your breaths coming slow and steady.

Your expression was one of pure bliss as you gazed up at him, your eyes shining with love and gratitude. You reached out to caress his cheek, your touch gentle and affectionate as you praised him for his efforts.

"Ben, that was amazing", you murmured, your voice soft with emotion. "I know how much you prefer it rough, but thank you for taking it slow for me. It was exactly what I needed".

Ben's heart swelled with pride at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. He knew that he had pushed himself out of his comfort zone for you, and seeing the satisfaction on your face made it all worth it.

"I'd do anything for you, Y/N", he whispered, his voice filled with love and devotion. "You mean everything to me".

As you lay intertwined in the aftermath of your lovemaking, Ben reflected on his last words, he couldn't help but cringe at his own awkwardness. With a sheepish smile, he reached out to pull you even closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

"Forget what I just fucking said", he murmured, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "It was fucking cheesy”.

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest as you looked up at him with a tender smile. "I wouldn't dream of forgetting. I love you, Ben".

As you drifted off to sleep in Ben's arms, he gently traced his fingers over your lower back and thighs with tender affection. His touch was light and soothing.

With each gentle caress, Ben felt a sense of peace wash over him, the weight of the world melting away as he focused solely on the woman he held in his arms. He marveled at the beauty and grace of your sleeping form, his heart swelling with love for you.

As the soft rhythm of your breathing filled the room, Ben pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against you as he whispered words of love and adoration into the darkness. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and intimacy of the dark, he knew that he was the luckiest man alive to have you by his side.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #smut #hurtful #hurt/comfort #the boys hughie #hughie campbell

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aemondapologistfrfr · 2 months

Text

His Princess - Pt 5

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

Summary: The dragons and their host are getting restless waiting in Harrenhal and are relieved when they receive instructions from Rhaenyra. Daemon is sent back to Harrenhal, but is prepared to do whatever it takes to keep a clear mind to prepare for what he must face. Y/n and Ben move their host and reunite with Rhaenyra.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, p in v, handjob, green council pov pls don’t h8 me 🧎🏼‍♀️, emo father/daughter talk, wine

Authors Note: ok the father daughter talk is making my daddy issues act up!!, i made a timeline for this fic and there’s an end in sight 🥲 it’s gunna get messy before it gets better and im anticipating like at least three more parts but it could be more🫣

Word Count: 5k

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My cheek is repeatedly rubbing against the stone wall as moans fall my my mouth. Ben has a hand wrapped around my throat and the other is squeezing harshly at my hip. He’s panting in my ear as he continually pounds into me.

“I’ll be surprised if the entirety of this castle doesn’t hear you mewling for my cock.” he breathes out as his hand applies light pressure.

I cry out at his words as I clench around him. He grunts snapping his hips quicker into mine as I continue to whimper. A sob tears through me as my pleasure takes over and I feel his warmth spreading through me. He roughly pulls out and puts himself back in his pants. He lifts my pants back up as I’m still resting my head on the cool stone.

“You’re going to have to learn to have patience.” he chuckles turning me around towards him.

“Me?” I hiss looking up to him. “You were the one who dragged me in here.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Was I?” he smirks down at me licking his lips.

“Yes, you imbecile.” I seethe pulling him towards the door.

“Imbecile? That’s new.” he hums. “You’re always so sweet to me, my Princess.” he kisses the side of my head escorting me out of the servants closet.

Rhaenyra has sent word of there being no texts or records of such a strong pulling bond. She says she assumes it’s the matter of how strong the bond between Silverwing and Vermithors is. They spent decades sequestered together in the pits, their bond forever strengthening.

With that linking me to Ben our feelings and emotions have been heightened and more attuned to each other. I actually quite like the bond, it has made us sync together but the desire for one another is so strong. Ben was right enough that the entirety of Harrenhal probably knows of our trysts.

“My Princess, my Lord,” Lord Darry smiles at us as he rounds the corner.

“How are you this morning?” I return his smile hoping I don’t look flushed.

“Doing well. Has there been any news of what’s to come?” he looks to me with hopeful and eager eyes.

“As of right now we are awaiting the Queens command. We are to continue to build our strength and work on moving as a lethal unit.” Ben answers for me looking to Lord Darry.

“Yes, of course.” he nods his head. “Also,” his voice trembles. “The farmers are running low on animals to provide for your dragons. Could you possibly take them hunting?” he looks between us nervously.

“Of course, Lord Darry.” I nod my head to him. “I know they have large appetites.” I smile hoping to calm his nerves.

“Indeed, my Princess.” he nods to me. “My Lord.” he nods his head to Ben before scuttling down the hall.

“Since when did everyone become terrified of us?” he chuckles pulling me along the hall.

“Since we came back with another full grown dragon. Claimed by you. Now you’re known throughout the host as Bloody Ben rider of Vermithor. I would be scared to face you.” My words covered in adoration as I turn my head to him.

“You would be scared of me?” he lets out a loud laugh as he leads us out of the castle.

“Of course, you’re fucking psychotic.” my words cause a smile to split across his face.

“First imbecile and now psychotic? I’m starting to question if you truly love me.” I roll my eyes at him and approach our curled up dragons.

“We have to hunt for our food today.” I look up to Silverwing who seems to scoff. “I’m not the one who has eaten the Riverlands dry.” I put my hands on my hips.

“Maybe we can get them to bring back food for us.” Ben chuckles to Vermithor who lets out a chuff. He has caught on to the language quicker than I thought and I’m ceaselessly amazed when he forms flowing sentences.

“If anyone is getting catered to, it’s us.” I huff turning to him.

Vermithor thuds his head back on the ground and breathes out deeply. Silverwing snaps her teeth at him and nudges him with her snout. Ben turns to me smiling as our dragons seem to have a small spat. They both turn to us and dip their wings down for us both to mount.

“Looks like we’re all flying.” I say triumphantly as I begin to climb up to the saddle.

“We’re just coming with to pick out the food for you two to get.” he taunts from his saddle.

Silverwing shoots into the sky leaving Ben and Vermithor on the ground. I hear him before I see them come up on our right. Vermithor is coasting on the breeze while Ben is lounging back in the saddle. I roll my eyes at them before we dip down to the river.

She snaps fish out of the river and spits them onto the shore. Vermithor circles the river and lands where she’s throwing the fish. After Silverwing has retrieved a fair amount of fish she comes back with one last mouthful. On our descent she spits the fish out onto Vermithors head and lands across from him.

Giggles burst out of me as I take on the scene. Ben is quickly removing his clips and sliding down the side of Vermithor. I climb down the side of Silverwing and start to walk towards Ben. I try to hide my smile as I see some fish remains on his clothes.

“Come here, my Princess.” he opens his arms and runs to me to try to hug me.

“Ben, no.” I giggle running away from him. “Maybe you both shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” I turn my head behind of me but don’t see him anymore. “Ben?” I ask tilting my head. I scream as his arms wrap around me.

“What were you saying?” he rubs himself all over me.

“Ben,” I fume wiggling out of his grasp.

“It just means we get to bathe together when we get back. I know how much you love that.” his eyes darken at the offer.

“Mm, so you’re saying you made me smell of fish out of love?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“You started it.” he chuckles.

“I don’t want you to bathe with me.” I toss over my shoulder as I begin to return to Silverwing.

“You’ll change your mind once we get to our chambers.” he says confidently as we see Vermithor go dip his head in the river to get rid of the fish remains.

“Silverwing hasn’t bathed with Vermithor just as I won’t with you.” I raise my chin at him as I climb up Silverwing while Vermithor nudges Ben’s back.

“Don’t be so stubborn.” he smiles up at me.

“Fly,” Silverwing shoots us into the sky leaving them behind.

Vermithor comes into view as we glide on the wind back to Harrenhal. We land outside of the gates and I strip out of as many layers I can before I parade myself around smelling like fish. I walk back into the gates with Ben trailing behind me. The servants are already ushering hot water into our chambers by the time we finish climbing up the steps.

“You can find somewhere else to bathe.” I hum as I begin stripping the rest of my layers.

“I will not. This is practically a pool, Y/n.” Ben starts to remove his clothes.

“Then you can sit on the opposite side.” I purse my lips as I dip into the steaming water.

He sinks into the water across from me while staring at me the whole time. I roll my eyes as I begin to take out my braids so I can thoroughly wash my hair. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ben slowly inching closer.

“I said the opposite side.” I hum shooting my eyes to him.

“I give it five minutes.” he smirks looking to me as he begins to scrub himself.

I roll my eyes as I continue to wash my hair and try to avoid my eyes lingering on him for too long. I know he can feel what I want from across this tub but he is right, I am feeling stubborn. A moan slips out of my mouth as I run my nails over my scalp. I lean my head back to wash out the soap, exposing my hardened nipples to Ben.

“Y/n,” his voice rough as I sit up again and look to him.

“What?” I tilt my head.

“You know what.” his eyes darken as they dip down to my chest.

I slip my hands beneath the water and trail them up my chest until I’m cupping my breasts. Whimpers fall from my mouth as I bring my fingers to tease my nipples. I look to Ben with low lids and see he’s clenching his jaw. He starts to move across the pool to me and I shake my head.

“I said opposite side.” I say breathlessly.

He sits back down and huffs. One of my hands slip below the water and I bring it directly to my throbbing bud. A moan falls from my lips as I begin to swirl around my clit. My eyes screw shut as I focus on my pleasure as my mind drifts to Ben. I peek an eye open and see his flushed face. He bites his lip as I see his arm flexing from his hand beneath the water.

“Gods you torture me, my love.” his voice like gravel.

“Ben,” I suck my lip into my mouth as my hips chase my hand.

“Let me come help you.” his voice borderline begging.

“You didn’t want to help earlier.” I pout as I move my fingers faster.

“What can I do to atone?” he starts moving towards me.

“Be quiet and make me come.” I whine as his hands slide up my thighs.

His hand replaces mine and his mouth immediately attaches to mine. I sigh against his lips as his fingers move in the way that has me gasping. He kisses down my neck and starts to speed his fingers. I reach out and wrap my hand around his hardened length and begin to pump.

“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth as I tighten my hand.

My hips grind against his hand as his rock into mine. We become a moaning mess in each other’s arms until we both come down clinging to each other. We rise out of the bath still tangled in each other and hastily dry off. He leads me to the bed where there is no end in sight to our pleasure.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

The Lords sit around the council table avoiding looking at us for too long. I don’t know if it’s from terror or embarrassment. We take our seats next to each other and assess the map laid in front of us. Our host continues to grow as smaller villages send men to fight for my mother.

“There’s been a raven from your mother.” my head snaps up to the Lords around the council chamber.

“Why am I just hearing of it now?” I hold my hand out for the letter.

“Your guard said you were indisposed after your hunt with your dragons. We’ve only received it within the hour.” he avoids my eye contact.

“I will speak with my guard. There is never a reason you won’t be able to reach me or Ben concerning pressing matters.” I nod to them.

Gods I’ve been so caught up in Ben that now these Lords think I’m just fucking Ben instead of working with the host. We have to really start trying to make these boundaries because these distractions will be less than welcome on a battlefield.

“It is no problem, Princess.” Lord Mooton is quick to assure me.

I open the letter which is written in High Valyrian should it fall into the wrong hands. Ben looks over my shoulder to read it with me.

Y/n and Ben:

It seems as if Seasmoke has claimed a rider(Addam) for himself. Corlys has been keeping much from us apparently. The time is ripe to take Kings Landing. The people are on our side and if we can lure Aemond and Vhagar out we can take it. I fear he will come to Harrenhal and I need you both with me to take Kings Landing. As much as I don’t want to I’m sending Daemon back. It’s as I said: my wants are simply wants. I will send another raven with further instruction, but as of right now ready the host to move on the Crownlands within the fortnight.

I love you both - Rhaenyra

“It seems as if we will finally be moving out of Harrenhal.” I look up to the Lords and hand Ben the letter to finish working out what it says.

“When and where?” Lady Mallister looks to me with exuberant eyes.

“We will march out within the fortnight to take on the Crownlands.” I study their expressions and all seem delighted to finally leave this crumbling castle. “Her Grace will send us another raven with further instructions.”

“We shall alert our commanders and begin preparing to march. The men will be excited and ready to move.” The Lords look to us nodding.

“Excellent,” Ben says smiling to them. “We will call a meeting when we know more information. For now you are dismissed.” I rise from my chair as the Lords leave.

I shut the door behind them as they exit and turn to Ben. I sigh and take my seat once more. I look over the letter once more to make sure I truly read everything properly and groan.

“Were you able to decipher the letter?” I look up from the letter to Ben.

“Daemon coming back here is fucking madness.” Ben shakes his head. “At least we’re taking the host with us. What kind of trouble can he get in on his own?” he raises his eyebrow to me.

“Daemon on his own is even more dangerous.” I sigh rubbing my forehead.

“What is the plan to lure Aemond and Vhagar away? You say people are terrified of me, but my Princess,” he sighs as he slides his eyes to mine. “Aemond terrifies me.” he says hushed.

“Aemond and Vhagar are Rhaenyras biggest foe. After Rooks Rest it’s clear he has no loyalties. I don’t know what Rhaenyras plan will hold, but hopefully we will be far enough away as to not feel his wrath.” a shiver goes through me.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n and Ben:

I have let word travel of your host at Harrenhal in Kings Landing. I have confirmation that word of this has made it to Aemonds council. Daemon will be to Harrenhal before the end of week and you will begin marching. You will meet with Addam, Baela, and Jace, along with myself, in Rosby. I have had my host take over the castle there and we’ve begun to amass. From there the commands will come straight from my mouth. Gods above, if Aemond should come upon you flee or hide, just please come back to me.

I will see you both soon - Rhaenyra

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Green Council Pov(Alicent still a member lol):

“That whores brazen daughter thinks she can summon a host? Against me?” Aemond slams his ball to the table.

“It would seem as if she’s also found a dragonseed who has claimed Vermithor and now rides at her side.” Lord Larys winces as Aemonds chair groans back as he rises.

“More bastards on dragons.” Aemond chuckles. “No matter, Vhagar and I can take them all.” he walks over to the map and begins to move his men around.

“Aemond, I should hope you would stay here.” Alicent speaks up with worry heavy in her voice as she thinks of Aegon.

“Dragons are fighting this war, Your Grace. We must send a dragon.” Cole looks down to his hands trying not to think about the events of Rooks Rest for the umpteenth time today.

“I shall fly out at the end of the week and meet them myself. I’ll finish burning down Harrenhal as it should’ve been in the first place.” Aemond glares at Lord Larys before he dismisses the council.

“Aemond,” Alicent lingers behind.

“Yes, mother?” Aemond purses his lips as he leans back in his chair.

“I do not wish for you to go to Harrenhal.” her eyes are glassy as they search over Aemond. “All of my children keep getting taken from me.” her voice shakes as she pleads silently.

“And whose fault is that?” he whispers as he looks her over before he rises from the table leaving her alone with her thoughts.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

“Welcome back,” I look to Daemon as he dismounts while I try to usher him in through the gates.

“I will sleep in a tent outside of the castle gates, I must keep a clear mind for what’s to come.” he nods his head looking to the crumbling castle.

“What’s to come?” I tilt my head looking to him.

“Death.” he turns to Caraxes and unties his bags letting them fall to the ground.

“I’ll have a tent brought out to you, I’ll see to it you’re brought food and water.” I hum turning to go back through the gates not wanting to listen to the cynicism.

“No need, your mother has sent me with provisions for the rest of my stay here, but thank you, daughter.” he looks to me over his shoulder and I turn once more on my heel not in the mood to have this moment.

I walk through the gates shaking my head. That fucking martyr. He truly plans to face Aemond alone, but if anyone could do it, it would be Daemon. Our relationship has always been complicated. We’re too much alike, but not in the right ways to make us properly bond. That does not mean I wish for him to die. The thought alone has my eyes watering as I walk up the stairs to our chambers. I wipe my tears angrily before I enter not understanding this sudden rush of sadness.

“Ben?” the doors rip open in front of me as he runs into me.

“What’s wrong?” he looks down to me worriedly assessing me physically before pulling me to him and sealing us in our chambers.

“I knew in the back of my head. I knew why he was coming here, I just didn’t want to face it.” I bury my head in his neck.

“What do you mean?” He rubs my back soothingly.

“Daemon. He’s going to face Aemond so we can put Rhaenyra on the throne.” my voice a whisper.

“Alone?” I nod my head in confirmation.

“I could stay and help-“

“Absolutely not.” I pull back shaking my head. “You will do no such thing. You’re to ride at my side by the Queens orders. And mine.” I will command him if I must.

“Of course, my Princess.” he studies me. “I just want to help ease your burden. I can feel your pain.” he pulls me back to him smoothing my hair and holding me tightly.

“My father is a stupid arrogant ass, but I look up to him nonetheless. I love him regardless of his actions even though it makes me question myself and my morals..” I trail off feeling tears prick at my eyes. “My mother seems to have faith in him, so I will too.” I inhale deeply and relax on the exhale.

“It seems now would be the time to talk to him.” Ben looks down to me softly.

“I will not say goodbye tonight.” I shake my head as I feel a tear slip down my cheek.

“We leave out tomorrow and it won’t be a goodbye. Just a talk. I can walk you down and wait for you by our dragons. I’ll bring a book to study and it will be fine.” he offers as he wipes away my rogue tears.

“Okay.” I nod my head.

Ben grabs a book on dragon riding and battle strategy while I grab bottles of wine. He leads me out of our chambers and out of the main doors. We slip out of the main gates and I see Daemon sitting around a fire poking it absentmindedly.

“Take your time, my love.” Ben gently pushes me in the direction of Daemon who looks up to me.

“Y/n and wine,” a smile pulls across his mouth as I take a seat next to him. “No Ben?” he looks around.

“He wanted to study and be by Vermithor.” I offer him one of my sealed bottles. “These are checked daily and from our personal trove.” I reassure him as I open mine.

“To you and Ben,” he grabs the bottle by its neck and raises it to me.

“To me and Ben,” I raise my bottle to him with a smile plastered on my face.

“He treats you well?” he hums taking a swig.

“Very well, I think you would actually like him.” I smile to him.

“I have since he handed you that knife in the council chambers to kill me.” he smirks looking to me.

“I’m surprised you remember that.” I chuckle raising the bottle to my lips again.

“There’s not many who would be so bold, besides you of course. So I knew in that moment you had found your match.” I look to him, shocked by his words.

“I’m surprised you approve.” I chuckle shaking my head.

“Then that fool claimed Vermithor. Y/n the bond between those dragons is something mighty. I know with them in the skies again your mother will sit the throne. We all have a part to play. Mine is here with Aemond. Yours is in Kings Landing with your mother and Ben at your side.” he wipes his face and I squint at him.

“Are you fucking crying?” I gape at him.

“You were crying when you came here so I’ll hear none of it.” he waves me off with his hand. “Daughter, I do love you. I truly hope tomorrow isn’t goodbye.” his voice wavering.

“No, I will see you in Kings Landing.” I look to him as tears flow down my cheeks steadily. “I love you too, father.” I wipe my face before sipping my wine.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We’ve been on the march for two days now and have thankfully seen no sign of any hosts or dragons. I try to have us stick strictly to marching by the moon so our dragons and our host can keep more cover. By day our dragons rest under tree canopy’s as the men rest surrounding them.

“I feel like it’s been too quiet.” I turn to Ben in our makeshift bed.

“They only have but one dragon and she should be on her way to Harrenhal any day now.” he bites his lip as his nerves get the best of him.

“The closer we get the more on edge everyone is. I can feel the energy coming from our host and the dragons. The Greens still have a host of their own that we must keep an eye out for.” my mind has been racing with everything that we must be doing and everything that could go wrong.

“Let’s just have a night without strategy and planning. Everything is up to the Gods now, we just have to move into place.” he holds me closer to him.

I lean up and place a soft kiss on his lips. He props himself up and kisses me more fiercely before pulling me onto his lap. Our tongues dance as we pour all of our worries and fear out of us. I pull back from him and quickly remove his shirt. Ben smiles up at me as he removes my shirt next.

His hands cup my breasts as I lean down and capture him in another kiss. I groan into his mouth as he begins to tease my nipples. We pull apart to take off our pants and reattach as if we were never apart. I slide down his length as he holds me tightly to him.

“You’re going to have to be quiet.” he grunts against my lips as I continue grinding against him.

“Mhm,” I nod my head.

Ben lifts my hips up and slides into me the angle making my gasp. He slowly lifts my hips and I rest my head against his neck hoping it’ll muffle some of my sounds. His hands go to my hips and start a steady pace. I whine into his neck as my hips start to move faster. His hips snap up into mine causing a moan to fall from my mouth.

“The whole host is going to hear you,” he growls frustrated.

He pulls me off of him and kneels behind me. He lifts my hips and tells me to make my noises into the pillows. I wrap my arms around the pillow and bring it to my mouth while he slides into me once more. He starts a brutal pace that has me sobbing into the pillow. He hasn’t said anything about my noise so I completely let go.

“Fucking taking me so good.” he grunts out as his fingers dig into my hips.

A moan rips through me as I explode around him. His hips falter but continue pounding into me. He chases his own high and I arch my back to offer us both a new sensation. My elbows collapse at the pleasure he takes from my body as he begins to shutter inside of me. He collapses on the bed next to me and I finally turn my head to him breathing heavily.

“Marry me after this war.” his words soft as his eyes search mine. I nod my head vigorously and pull him to my lips once more.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We’re only a days march out from Rosby and the road still remains clear. Ben and I patrol the skies and still don’t see the Greens host. I fly further ahead and look around the border of Rosby and see the host my mother has gathered. The Dragons are all curled up together and I smile at the thought of seeing my siblings again. Silverwing turns us back to our host and we land next to Vermithor.

“Anything?” Ben calls up.

“They’re awaiting our arrival.” I call down before I meet him on the ground. “The host she has is a bit larger than ours.” I look to him nodding my head adding up our numbers.

“How many?” he leads us to the council tent.

“I would say at least six thousand strong.” I shake my head at the sheer size of the host once it’s combined with ours. “Along with four dragons.”

“The Greens will never stand a chance.” he smiles to me and I can’t help but smile myself.

“Good morning, my Lords.” I greet as we enter the tent. “The road is clear to Rosby and my mother and her host await us.”

“How fares Her Graces host?” Lord Mooton asks.

“Four dragons and six thousand men.” I watch as their eyes bulge.

“Victory is inevitable.” Lord Darry lets out a breathy laugh.

“We will be taking Kings Landing with upwards of ten thousand men and six dragons. We’ve worked for many moons to move as one and will be adding more with tomorrow’s sun. I know not what my mother’s plan holds but we will have a meeting with the next steps when we meet with Her Grace.” the River Lords nod at me and Ben before they begin to shuffle out of the tent to begin readying their men.

“Can you feel the promise of violence in the air?” Ben looks to me.

“I can and I must admit that I’m scared.” I look to him trying not to think of everything that is happening around me.

“You were scared our first battle together too. We came out victorious then and we will this time.” he assures me pulling me into a hug.

“My single command stays the same: Don’t die.” I hug him tighter.

“Oh no, you’re stuck with me forever.” I feel his chuckle rumble through his chest.

We pull apart and go to our dragons to begin preparing them to head out once more. Our host is absolutely buzzing and we make the decision to push through the day to Rosby to join with my mother’s forces. I fly at the front of our host and Ben coasts near the end of the line.

Moondancer and Vermax meet us in the skies and my siblings smile wildly as their dragons twirl around us. Our men slowly make it to the camp as we begin to land by the other dragons. We make it to solid ground and take in the excitement around us.

“Y/n, Ben,” my mother sighs out in relief and pulls us into a hug.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

ps: i get so fkn emo that so many of you enjoy this story like it makes my heart hurt fr 🖤

pss: i’m almost done w the next part 😅

Part 6

#benjicot blackwood smut #benji blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot x reader #ben blackwood x reader #bloody ben smut #bloody ben hotd #bloody ben x reader #fancast bloody ben #hotd smut #x reader imagine #x reader smut #x reader fic #hotd fic

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whydoyoucare866 · 1 year

Note

hai :3 can i request an enemies to lover miguel o hara fic where they get stuck in a closet together and reader kinda has to sit on his lap because there isnt any space and so after a few minutes of being in there, reader pisses off miguel and miguel kisses them to shut them up and then the rest is history ig 🙇‍♀️

PLS AND THANK YOU! 🙇‍♀️

also pls make the reader speak spanish im BEGGINGGG.

CLOSET

hi! ofc you can! I did my best! I’m sorry that it sucks and is cringy��😭

Miguel O’ Hara x Hispanic Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Maybe a glimpse of smut, and Miguel being an asshole

You were one of Miguel’s first recruits, you had been working in the spider society for as long as it had existed, you and Miguel were close (or you would like to consider that) since you both shared the same culture and language and it was easier for you to communicate with him when your English wasn’t as good as it is (since in your universe Spanish was the predominant language) and he would be one of the few people who could understand your accent or you speaking Spanish when you forgot a word.

He took it as his personal job to teach you English until you perfected it and people who didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to guess that it wasn’t your first language( though sometimes you still would forget words in English or express yourself better in Spanish) you would both mutually bring food for each other or bond over music, so yeah you considered yourself close to him.

That was until he started becoming way more stressed about everything, yeah he has been a sour asshole ever since his canon event, but people were at least able to get small responses and have conversations that weren’t all about work with him, but as the spider society grew, he felt a lot of pressure on him and started drowning himself in work to the point that he would isolate himself for days until he got everything he needed done, he could spend weeks without sleeping and eating, and obviously as he became more stressed his memories started to impulse even worse emotions on him than they did before.

Of course this made you and your other teammates worried about him, so you started to bring him lunch, make sure he slept, and just went to see if he was okay, but you checking up on him started to annoy him as he got more irritating because of the lack of sleep and the accumulation of stress, so one day he just decided you annoyed him and soon that annoyance turned into hatred, or that’s what he thought it was.

This made him become snappy at you and we all know he can be the greatest asshole, at first you’re patient with him, thinking it will pass, but as it gets worse you reach your ending point and lose all patience starting to respond to him the same way he talked to you.

The sudden change weirded everyone out, but they also noticed that ever since you started hating Miguel back, his mood became even worse, well everyone noticed except for you, which surprised everyone since you were one of the smartest people in the spider society.

So thats why everyone refused to go to a mission with Miguel when he asked them to, arguing that they already had a mission, or that they had something really important to do, until Miguel had no other option but to take you and you had no other option but to go with him.

“Do i reaally have to go with him? I mean can’t he just ask Ben instead?” You said to Jess

“Nope honey, Ben has a really important therapy session”

“Okay? so then ask Gwen? Pavitr? Hobie? anyone else?”

“He already did, they’re all busy”

“Then why can’t you go”

“As important as the spider society is, I have an ultrasound appointment today, so I can’t go even if I wanted to”

“Well the world just hates me then doesn’t it”

“Maybe it does, or maybe it’s doing you a favor”

“Trust me, being alone with him is not a favor, i don’t want to be screamed at about how i’m annoying and a fucking- what was the word? uhm una carga? how did you say that?”

“A burden?”

“Yeah that! I don’t want to be called a burden and shit like that”

“You’re no burden, but I’ll tell you what you sound like, a teenage girl, come on, you’re an adult, you can take things in a professional way”

“Well the one that’s childish is him not me”

“Uh huh, well i’ve gotta go, good luck!”

“Yeah whatever”

You were now approaching Miguel’s office while wishing you were dead ‘Puta madre neta me lleva la verga, ahora si ya no tengo de otra más que ir’ (Fuck this shit, now I really don’t have any option but to go), you were starting to grow nervous as you approached his door, you hadn’t been alone with him since your last fight where he directly called you annoying and a burden, but now you had no other option.

After finishing the mission without actually talking to each other unless necessary, you both came back to the HQ, when you arrived it was weirdly quiet and no one seemed to be there doing their duties even if it was not that late, which was really weird, that was until you saw Peter B. approaching you with a worried look

“Hey y/n, have you seen MayDay? I can’t find her, usually it takes me an hour, but it’s been four hours and I haven’t been able to find her and I’m starting to get worried” Peter said to you while still running up to you and then catching his breath

“Oh, um I’m sorry but we just got back from a mission so we haven’t seen anything, but we can help you look!”

“No we can’t” Miguel said

“Yes we can, anyways where was the last place that you saw her Peter?” You said after glaring at Miguel as if looks could kill

“Well, I think it was in that one room that has a closet.. I always forget what it’s called”

“Okay yeah, I know which one you’re talking about, let’s go take a look”

Miguel followed them even if he said he wouldn’t be helping, Mayday being on the loose could press a lot of buttons and break a lot of things and cause a lot of problems, so there he was, inside of the closet with you, while Peter “looked” around the room, until they heard a loud noise of the door closing and now he was trapped inside with you, the worst thing is that because of the lack of space you ended up in his lap.

“Great, just what I needed”

“You know I’m not happy about being here with you either okay?”

“Oh is that so? or was this your little plan to get me trapped with you and to get all up on my personal space”

“WHAT? I would NOT do that, and I do NOT want to be in the same room as you you fucking asshole!”

“Oh yeah am I an asshole? sorry I couldn’t understand you with that accent”

“WHAT? okay now you’re being unreasonable, you want me to say it in Spanish? I will, Yo no planee esto wey, yo no quiero estar en el mismo lugar que tu, yo no quiero que me hables, yo no te quiero hablar y mucho menos molestar tu pinche espacio personal, así que neta hazme un favor y cállate un rato que ya no te aguanto cabrón, neta deja de cagar el palo y de ser un pendejo de la nada y ni me trates de culpar porque yo ni se que chingados te hice para que me odies tanto-“. (I didn’t plan this, I don’t want to be in the same place as you, I don’t want you to talk to me or to talk to you or even less to be all on your fucking personal space, so please do me a favor and shut up a little because I can’t deal with you anymore, please stop being such an asshole out of nowhere and don’t blame me because i don’t even know what the fuck I did for you to hate me so much-) That’s when you felt something on your lips, and it took you some time to realize he was kissing you, Miguel O’Hara was kissing you, you sure as hell felt as a teenage girl, butterflies in your stomach and everything.

On the other side Miguel was starting to get nervous as you didn’t return the kiss, he was starting to pull away and about to say he was sorry and he didn’t mean it when he felt you pulling him close and kissing him again, at first it was just a sweet kiss, but then it started to get heated, he couldn’t help but moan when he started feeling you grinding against him, with each second passing making him harder, he started kissing your neck and sucking “Fuck Miguel- you’re gonna leave marks” but he didn’t care, he continued, hearing your moans was paradise to him, he wanted to take you there so bad, until, they heard a knock “Um guys? are you okay?” Peter B said as he unlocked the door and opened it making Miguel groan in annoyance “This isn’t over.” he said before the door completely opened and revealed a Peter with a smiling Mayday in his arms.

#miguel o’hara x reader angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader smut #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara x reader smut #miguel o’hara x reader fluff

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basset-babe · 4 months

Text

five times: the second.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: unsolicited sexual advances

word count: 3.7k+

a/n: apologies for the late update! i've been sleeping in so bad lately lmao also, please do know that my writing isn't abided by the series' consecutive timeline bcs i just tend take away scenes and themes through s1 to s3 where it would make sense with the fic idea in my head, but all still well within the bridgerton series (S3 SPOILER! also i do not hold any grudge towards lady tilley arnold tho she is the rendezvous love interest of ben in s3, just made sense for me to add her here in this context) but nonetheless, please enjoy the 2nd! ciao belle!

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last.

spring divider from @thyming and, again, pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

second time.

As the noon sun cast a bright glow over the sprawling estate gardens, Miss Y/N and Benedict strolled along the cobblestone path lined with vibrant blossoms and verdant foliage. The sweet fragrance of blooming flowers mingled with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, creating an intoxicating bouquet that filled the air. Birds chirped melodiously from their perches in the ancient oaks, their songs adding a gentle soundtrack to the tranquil scene.

Miss Y/N paused by a bed of delicate gardenias, her fingers brushing lightly over the soft petals as she turned to Benedict with a teasing smile. "Have you no other plans than to spend your time watching me procure my plants, Benedict?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Benedict, standing a few paces away with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, returned her smile with a warm, earnest expression. "Actually, I find great pleasure in keeping you company and wandering through your beautiful gardens," he replied, his gaze taking in the lush greenery and the kaleidoscope of flowers surrounding them. In truth, his heart swelled with affection for her, every moment spent in her presence a cherished gift.

A few steps behind, the chaperone lingered near a stone bench, her attention seemingly focused on the distant horizon. Although out of earshot, her presence was a reminder of propriety and decorum.

Miss Y/N sighed softly, her playful demeanor tinged with a hint of exasperation. "We are chaperoned! I mean, probably out of earshot but still," she said, shaking her head slightly as a wry smile curved her lips. "You and your subtle art of flirting."

Benedict chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "Ah, but where's the harm in a little harmless flirtation amidst such beauty?" he replied, gesturing to the surrounding garden. "Besides, your company is far more captivating than anything." His words carried the weight of his burgeoning love, though he struggled to fully express the depth of his feelings.

As they continued their leisurely walk, the leaves rustled softly in the gentle breeze, and the world seemed to slow, allowing them a few precious moments of stolen intimacy amidst the natural splendor.

"My subtle art of flirting," he murmured, stepping closer and carefully looming over a bed of blooming roses. "Or perhaps it’s not so subtle after all."

She glanced up at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I would say it’s as subtle as a peacock in a library."

"Ah, so it’s quite effective, then," he said, leaning in just enough to catch the gardenia’s sweet scent.

"You are impossible," she said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile. "Even when you called on me, you've brought a grafted rose to plant, of all things!" She laughed fondly.

"Well, I thought it suited you," he said as his voice softened, casting her a glance full of admiration. "A growing thing of beauty, requiring patience, care, and attention." His heart pounded in his chest, the metaphor echoing his own feelings for her.

The sun glowed warm through the greenhouse window pane. Peering from the vines, the sunlight dawned and cascaded over Y/N, rendering her breathtaking in Benedict's eyes. The golden light danced on her hair, casting a halo-like aura that made her appear almost ethereal.

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink at his words. "For an artist, you do have a way with words, Benedict," she murmured, a soft smile playing at her lips as she averted her gaze.

Benedict, unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment, reached out and gently touched a gardenia bloom, his fingers brushing against hers. The brief contact sent a subtle thrill through him, a spark of connection that felt both profound and delicate. "And I mean every one of them, you know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of sincerity and unspoken affection as their eyes met.

Y/N's breath caught slightly, her heart quickening in response. Her gloved hand now in his as he gently held it. The intensity of his gaze made her heart flutter, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. Her lady's maid, the estate, the very garden itself—all blurred into a distant background against the magnetic pull between them.

A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the intoxicating scent of gardenias and roses. Y/N's eyes widened slightly at the depth of emotion she saw in Benedict's eyes, a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something she dared not name yet. Her fingers, still intertwined with his, felt warm and comforting, a silent promise held in the delicate touch.

Her voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "Benedict, do you ever, um, find yourself feeling, well, the same way I do in moments like these, when we're together?" Her eyes, tinged with vulnerability, flicked up to meet his, silently seeking a connection that transcended mere words.

Benedict's smile softened, his thumb lightly caressing the back of her hand as he leaned nearer to whisper, "Every moment with you, Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with a gentle ardor. "Your presence, Y/N, for if I revere you a dream, then I no longer wish to wake from my slumber."

Y/N's heart raced at his words, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink. She felt a rush of emotions, a blend of excitement and a tender vulnerability she had never experienced before. Her eyes widening in awe, "You speak as if I am something unattainable, a fragment of your mind," she said, a touch of playful skepticism in her tone.

Benedict's expression softened, nearing her as his gaze full of adoration. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice tender yet earnest, "you are not a fragment of my mind, nor are you unattainable. You are the very essence of my heart's desires, a beacon of light in a world of darkness." He reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch conveying a depth of emotion beyond words. "To me, you are not just a dream, but the reality I never dared hope for. And I will spend every moment proving that to you, if you'll let me."

Meanwhile, the subtle clearing of her lady's maid's throat, positioned at a respectable distance, acted as a genteel nudge to observe the proprieties of their setting.

"Um, I, uh, apologize, Your Grace," Benedict murmured, his cheeks tinted with a shy flush as he took a small, hesitant step back, seemingly unsure of where to place his hands. "I… erm, it seems I, uh, forgot to, um, maintain my distance. Please forgive me," he added softly, his voice trailing off with a hint of uncertainty. "I, um, really didn't mean to, uh, make you uncomfortable." His eyes, a mix of nervousness and sincerity, briefly met hers before darting away, as if seeking refuge in the nearby foliage. "I'm, um, deeply sorry if I, you know, overstepped," he continued, his tone laced with a sheepish awkwardness as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to find a comfortable stance. "I… I suppose I just, er, got a bit carried away in the moment."

Y/N's cheeks flushed deeper as she felt a rush of embarrassment mingled with amusement at Benedict's sheepish apology. She averted her gaze momentarily, suppressing a nervous giggle before meeting his eyes, she reached out to gently place a hand on his arm. "Oh, Benedict," she began, her voice soft with a hint of laughter, "there's no need to apologize. I… I must admit, I too got carried away in the moment." She glanced around, half-panicked that someone might have witnessed their closeness, but finding the situation more humorous than anything. "It seems we both found ourselves swept up in the enchantment of the garden," she added with a playful wink, her laughter bubbling forth despite her attempts to compose herself.

Benedict let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he returned to a more respectable distance from Y/N. He couldn't help but smile at her laughter, finding solace in her lighthearted response. "Indeed, it appears the garden has a way of enchanting us both," he agreed with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on her with fondness. "I guess we ought to keep a closer eye on decorum," he mused with a rueful grin, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Benedict entered his studio at the esteemed art academy with a purposeful stride, the faint aroma of charcoal and linseed oil pervading his senses as he stepped within. The grand wooden door emitted a gentle creak as he pushed it open, revealing a space that, while seemingly cluttered, held a unique order characteristic of an artist's domain. It's been days since Mr. Bridgerton had paid visit to Miss Y/N; days since his apparent confession unreturned with an answer, hoping of the most favored "yes".

The studio was suffused with the soft, diffused light of late afternoon, filtering through tall, dust-laden windows. Easels stood in solemn ranks, each bearing sketches and paintings in various stages of completion. The floor was a canvas in itself, adorned with a mosaic of paint splatters and crumpled sheets of paper, silent testament to his countless hours of diligent work.

His gaze was inexorably drawn to the central easel, where his latest sketches of Miss Y/N awaited his discerning eye. Countless hours had been devoted to capturing her likeness, her features indelibly etched into his memory and transposed onto the canvas from myriad angles. The delicate curve of her jawline, the subtle arch of her brows, the enigmatic depths of her eyes—each sketch narrated a different story, a moment either observed or conjured from his imagination.

Benedict set down his leather satchel upon a nearby stool, extracting a well-worn sketchbook and a selection of fine graphite pencils. He approached the easel with a sense of reverence, as one might approach a sanctified space. The quietude of the studio enveloped him, disrupted only by the distant murmur of the academy's other activities.

As he perched upon the high stool before the easel, he paused momentarily, allowing his thoughts to drift back to his latest sitting with Miss Y/N. He recalled the play of light upon her hair, the subtle shifts in her expression as her thoughts wandered. With a deep, steadying breath, he took up a pencil, its familiar weight a comfort in his hand, and resumed his sketching. He became immersed once more in the intricate dance of lines and shadows, bringing her presence to vivid life upon the paper.

As he worked, Benedict would lose himself in the intricacies of her likeness, his mind consumed by the challenge of translating her beauty onto paper. Every stroke of his pencil would be deliberate, every line a reflection of his perception of her essence.

In this intimate space, surrounded by the tangible evidence of his devotion, Benedict would pour his heart and soul into each etch, striving to capture the true spirit of Miss Y/N with every stroke of his pencil.

"Someone seems smitten, don't you think, brother?" Anthony's teasing voice broke through Benedict's intent stare as he drew, jolting him out of his reverie. A faint blush tinged Benedict's cheeks as he glanced up, his hand pausing mid-stroke.

Benedict's older brother stood in the doorway, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he observed the tableau before him. Benedict chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of embarrassment. "I'm merely capturing her likeness as an artist," he protested, though the affection in his gaze betrayed his true feelings.

Anthony's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Of course, dear brother," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement. "But one might argue that your portraits of Miss Y/N are a tad... shall we say, inspired?"

Benedict rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps," he conceded, returning his attention to the paper before him. "But can you blame me? She's quite the muse."

With a knowing laugh, Anthony stepped further into the studio, his presence injecting a sense of levity into the room. "Indeed she is," he agreed, his gaze drifting to the scattered sketches of Miss Y/N that adorned the walls. "But do try not to get too lost in your musings, brother. The real Miss Y/N might start to wonder what's keeping you so occupied."

Benedict nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Point taken," he said, his focus returning to his work. But as he etched his pencil into the paper once more, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to the enigmatic woman who had captured his imagination—and his heart.

"Oh, and a letter arrived. It's for you," Anthony handed as sealed letter, "from a Lady Tilley Arnold. Seems urgent." Benedict stopped as he looked at his older brother whose held a knowing look. "I am not one to pry for I am one with your contentment, brother, but it seems you have unfinished business?"

"It is not what you are implying, brother. We are done. Lady Arnold had bid me done then. It is probably purely audience." Benedict replied focusing back to his work.

"Then I shall leave you to it, brother." Anthony left the letter on the stool and stepped out the studio closing the door, leaving his brother with his thoughts.

After his brother's departure, Benedict found himself unable to shake the lingering thoughts about why Lady Arnold had sought his audience. Their relationship had long evolved beyond the realms of a passionate love affair, and any such intimacies had faded into the past. Instead, he now saw himself as a respectable bachelor, poised to fulfill his societal obligations and perhaps find a suitable wife.

Despite this unexpected shift in their dynamics, the unexpected summons from Lady Arnold had stirred a curious blend of nostalgia and apprehension within him, prompting him to ponder the nature of their current connection.

As Benedict retired to his townhouse for the evening, his mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts about the impending meeting with Lady Arnold. While he harbored no romantic, nor amorous, feelings for her, the prospect of their encounter tomorrow left him feeling decidedly uneasy. After all, he had been actively courting Miss Y/N, and the mere notion of being seen with Lady Arnold had the potential to ignite scandalous gossip.

But then a knock sounded. In the dimly lit parlor of Benedict's townhouse, a cloaked woman stood before him, an air of melancholy clinging to the elegant form. "Lady Arnold, good evening! Do come in." He moved aside as the women entered. "To what do I owe--" He was cut off as Lady Tilley spoke, her expression tinged with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Benedict, I sought you out because I'm leaving London soon. I wanted to bid you farewell before I go."

Benedict nodded politely, though a flicker of curiosity danced in his eyes. "Of course, Lady Arnold. It's kind of you to say goodbye."

But as their conversation unfolded, Benedict couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Lady Arnold's visit than a simple farewell. Her demeanor seemed to betray an underlying tension, a sense of urgency that belied the pleasantries of their exchange.

"Lady Arnold," Benedict began, his voice laced with a hint of concern, "is everything alright? You seem... troubled."

Lady Arnold hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering uncertainly before she squared her shoulders, as if steeling herself for what was to come. "Benedict, there's something I need to tell you," she confessed, her tone serious. "Something I've been meaning to say for quite some time." Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead, her words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I... I've realized that I can't bear the thought of leaving without expressing how I truly feel."

Benedict's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of her confession. "How you feel?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lady Arnold nodded, her gaze unwavering as she held his gaze. "Yes, Benedict. I know the risks of me being seen here in your residence but it seems that you have not responded to my correspondence... I have come here to say that I've been thinking about us, about our past, and... I can't deny that I still feel something between us."

Benedict's mind flew to the letter he placed on his desk earlier the night he reached his townhouse. He didn't even want to open it knowing what it could contain. A rakish past he, quite possibly, no longer wants to open. Benedict, then, felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him, memories of their shared history flooding back with startling clarity. Yet, beneath the surface, a sense of unease gnawed at him, a silent reminder of the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.

"Tilley," he began tentatively, his words hesitant as he struggled to find the right response. "I… I'm not sure what you mean. Our past is just that, the past."

But Lady Arnold was undeterred, her resolve unwavering as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But what if it doesn't have to be? What if we could recapture the passion we once shared?"

Benedict's heart quickened at her words, torn between the allure of nostalgia and the reality of his present circumstances. "I... I don't know, Tilley," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Things have changed. I've changed."

Undeterred, Lady Arnold reached out to touch his hand, her touch soft and pleading. "Benedict, please. Don't you remember how good it used to be? Just one last time, before I leave."

Benedict felt a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside him, his mind spinning with indecision. "I… I can't," he finally answered removing his hand from hers, his voice heavy with his conscience. "It wouldn't be right, just like you decided."

Lady Arnold's eyes gleamed with a mixture of longing and sorrow as she looked at Benedict. "Do you remember, Benedict," she began, her voice soft yet laden with emotion, "those nights we shared? How the world seemed to disappear when we were together? Every stolen moment, every secret touch… it was as if time stood still just for us." She took a step closer, her gaze never wavering. "The way we used to laugh, our whispers filling the darkness with promises only we understood. We explored each other's souls and bodies with such intensity, such reckless abandon. Every touch was a symphony, every kiss a sonnet. Our passion burned so bright, like a flame that could never be extinguished."

Her voice faltered slightly, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "We were invincible then, weren’t we? Bound by nothing but our own desires. It was a love that consumed us, left us breathless and wanting more. Even now, I can feel the echoes of those nights, the way your touch could ignite something deep within me, a fire that no one else could ever hope to spark."

She spoke of memories shared, of passion ignited long ago, and hinted at desires yet unfulfilled. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, Benedict found himself ensnared by her magnetic presence, a faint echo of their past intimacy stirring within him as she caressed his jaw.

As the tension between them reached its zenith, Lady Arnold's advances became bolder, her fingers trailing lightly along the curve of Benedict's jawline as she leaned in for a kiss. For a fleeting moment, their lips met in a passionate embrace, igniting a spark of longing that threatened to engulf them both.

But as quickly as it began, Benedict pulled away, a confused expression clouding his features. "I am afraid it has ended," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "This... it no longer feels right." His words hung heavy in the air.

Lady Arnold's expression softened, a hint of sadness clouding her eyes. "I know things have changed, Benedict. We have changed. But those memories... they still linger. A testament to what we once shared, a rendezvous that defied everything and everyone."

She reached out, her fingers grazing his hand. "Tell me you remember, Benedict. Tell me that those moments meant as much to you as they did to me."

Benedict felt a lump form in his throat as Lady Arnold's words washed over him. Her memories mirrored his own, a testament to the bond they had once shared. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to respond.

"Of course I remember," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "Those moments were among the most exhilarating experiences of my life. We had an affair, some rendezvous that was."

Lady Arnold's eyes softened at his confession, a flicker of hope igniting within them. "Then why can't we have it again, Benedict? Just one last time, before I leave. Let me carry that memory with me."

Benedict sighed, "Because things are different now," he said gently. "Our lives have moved on. What we had was rousing, but it's part of a past that no longer exists."

Lady Arnold's expression crumpled slightly, her hope waning. "But why?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why can't we hold onto it, just for a little while longer?"

Benedict took her hand in his, his touch both firm and tender. "Because it wouldn't be fair to either of us," he replied softly. "I can't give you whatever temporary high you want, not when my heart belongs to someone else now. It would be a lie, a betrayal of what we both deserve."

Tears shimmered in Lady Arnold's eyes as she listened to his words. "I understand," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "I just... I had to try."

Benedict squeezed her hand gently before letting go. "I know," he said. "And I'm grateful for what we shared, Tilley, truly. But we both need to move forward, to find happiness in the lives we've chosen. You know it, this cannot be."

Lady Arnold nodded, her shoulders sagging with resignation. "I suppose this is goodbye then," she murmured, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes," Benedict agreed, his voice tender. "Goodbye, Lady Arnold. I wish you all the best."

With a final, lingering glance, Lady Arnold turned and walked away, leaving Benedict standing alone in the dimly lit parlor. As the door closed behind her, he felt a profound sense of closure, mingled with the bittersweet pang of lost love. He knew he had made the right decision, but the echoes of their past would remain with him, a poignant reminder of a passion that had once burned so brightly.

taglist: @novausstuff // @pussyslayerhd // @amoosarte // @jupitervenusearthmars

again, please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series!

#benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #x reader #fem reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton/reader #fic #bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton oneshot #fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x y/n

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momojedi · 6 months

Text

— LOSS topic. hunter x gn! jedi! reader

type. one shot note. this is just a small drabble while i finish all the other requests i've gotten! yes, another tlou reference. my fist hunter fanfic and obviously its angst, ugh. this is set a while after omega's abduction. tech is alive. reader met the remaining batch while they were out scavenging for any intel on omega's location - they don't know about who they're looking for specifically, not her importance. warnings. angst, argument, hurt/no comfort, kidnapping word count. 1,135

star wars masterlist || pinned post

10%

I feel the familiar knot of anger boil in the pits of my stomach. It's been a little over a month since I decided to fall in with the three mercenaries that had happened to go after the same bounty as me. It was only when we had settled on splitting the credits that my blood had run cold the second their helmets were off. It had taken Hunter a lot of patience and persuasion to finally get me to lower my lightsaber.

Hunter and I had quickly clicked from then on. But as time passed, I noticed more and more how protective he became of me, giving me little room to breathe and jumping in to defend me despite knowing I could handle myself. When Tech told me about Omega, the girl they'd ben so invested in finding, my heart broke for him. A father figure and his daughter separated by a gruesome Empire? I quickly took pity on him, tried to accommodate his behaviour but when he'd taken a blaster shot for me during a difficult mission, I cracked. I'd screamed at him, scolded him for putting himself in danger for me before storming off, the desperation in his eyes burning itself into my mind.

I've been hiding in the Marauder ever since, trying my best to avoid Hunter in the guise of assisting Tech and Echo in their research while listening to Wrecker's quiet chewing as he devours ration bar after ration bark, much to his brothers' annoyance. But of course, he won't let that slide.

"[Name]?" I bite my tongue when I hear the creaking of the metal steps under his weight as he steps into the shuttle. I'm not sure I can stand looking at his hurt expression, nor the dent in his armour where the shot had hit. So, I sigh.

"I know about Omega, Hunter."

Hunter freezes when her name falls from my lips and suddenly the air grows tense. "What?" His voice is shaking, as if it were still trying to grasp a sense of understanding on what I just said. I sigh, setting down the datapad as the download I was previously supervising proceeds.

20%

"Tech," I explain, rising from my seat and motioning toward said man who curiously enough started burying his face in his own datapad, "he told me about her and━" "[Name]." I stop dead in my tracks. Never has my name been spat harsher than it now. Hunter's eyes are shut, brows furrowed as he speaks with a precision that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His tone is dangerous, almost threatening when he finally opens his eyes again, the usual warmth in his gaze gone.

"You are treading on some mighty thin ice there."

I bite my inner cheek, letting out a deep sigh before crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm sorry about her, Hunter, I really am," I hesitate for a second before meeting his eyes again, "But I have lost people, too."

30%

Hunter stares, a cold and piercing glare that I hardly withstand. He's seething, fists clenched at his side. Then, he opens his mouth and my heart stops━

"You have no idea what loss is."

My mouth goes dry. Echo takes in a sharp breath. Tech awkwardly clears his throat. The loud clang of Gonky landing on the ground makes it clear even Wrecker is taken back.

"What?" It's more of a heartbroken grasp for reality than a question but I speak it anyways. Hunter remains quiet. "Hunter, I... Are you serious?"

40%

I didn't break away from society, didn't remain on the run, didn't lay low for months to be met with this. I know Hunter's words are lead by pure despair and fury toward the Empire, yet they still affected me. And so they did, badly. Echo set his healthy hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "Hunter, I think that's enough━"

"No," I bark, dashing forward and driving an accusatory finger into Hunter's chest plate, "No, you listen here and you listen good. Everyone I have ever cared for, my master, my troops, my friends - all of them have either died being slaughtered by the Empire, or left me." A familiar wetness forms in the corner of my eyes as I blink back the tears. "All except for you!"

50%

I swallow the lump in my throat as my voice breaks into a sob. "So don't act like you can't be taken away from me, too, because truth is, it just hurts me more."

Silence fills the Marauder once more. I can practically feel the tension radiating off Hunter as he watches me. Finally, he moves, but his action brings more harm than good. He turns away from me. Before disappearing into the cockpit though, he halts and faces the side to look at me over his shoulder.

"You're right. I don't have to protect you. You're not our family, after all," he stops, letting the words sink in. Then, he shoots his final bullet, sure to leave a deep scar, "We're dropping you off on Koboh. From here on out, we'll be going our separate ways."

Download cancelled!

Then, the door slides shut behind him. I remain frozen on the spot, the stares of the other batch members fading into the background along with the datapad subtle beeping as the download stops. Echo is the first to move. "I'll go talk to him." When he too disappears into the cockpit, Wrecker is the second to find his voice. "It'll be fine," he tries to reassure me, laying a comforting hand on my back, "it's a hard topic for him, just ... give him some time."

The air around me suddenly feels stuffy, rendering it hard to breathe. I barely excuse myself and leave behind a confused Wrecker and a perplexed Tech as I rush outside. I don't hold back, stumbling through the woods, away from the shuttle, from the Batch, from Hunter. Away from everything.

It's only after nearing a cliff at the edge of the forest that I stop, catching my breath and falling to my knees. My stomach churns as I feel my world fall apart. The last time I've felt like that, I watched my fellow Jedi be slaughtered by their own men. I bury my face in my hands, salty tears clinging to my palms.

As my surroundings are darkened, I barely detect the imperial shuttle closing in on me from above. Only when the lamps power on, throwing a blinding light on me, I look up before swiftly being caught off-guard as the electrified net lands on me, partially knocking me out. Steps. A shadow looms over me, modulated voice barely drowned out by the shuttle's noise.

"Sir, we found the Jedi."

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superblysubpar · 7 months

Text

return to main menu // steve’s music

Honey, On Your Knees

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Your husband and you get nasty in a church…again. // This fic is a part of my "Her Body Is Bible" AU - you can find the first story and more here // NSFW 18+

the song: Holy by King Princess

2.5k words

warnings: warnings from prev fic still apply // religious themes, and the holiday Christmas being celebrated // As with part one, you’ll be blocked - nobody is forcing you to read this // Mentions of trying to get pregnant // Alcohol mentions and use by reader // SMUT (oral - reader receiving, public, steve is kind of edging us a little if you squint) // My blog is 18+

A/N: originally requested for an event, I combined two requests from an anon and @djoswiftie - thanks for your patience 💛. The prompts were [APOLOGY: a kiss offered as a way to apologize or make amends] / [FLASH: one muse “accidentally” flashes the other] -- maybe not in the way you think FYI // [NECK: a kiss or gentle sucking on neck] / [PALM: one muse palms the other muse’s penis/breasts through clothes]

He hadn’t meant to say it.

The house was warm, the low murmur of relatives catching up while silverware clinked together mixed with Nat King Cole crooning out of the stereo. Mashed potatoes heaped by spoonfuls onto plates, kids’ new toys scattered in a rush once the ham was carved, and soon wine started to be poured for those of age.

Vivian Harrington simply smiled as you told her none for you and moved on, but the same couldn’t be said for others at the table.

“Not drinking, huh? Are you pregnant?”

If his scotch drunk uncle jumped over the line of appropriate, Steve ignored it all together, replying hopefully and without thought.

“No…not yet!”

He hadn’t meant to say it.

Your eyes widened, jaw tensed as you huffed out a breath through your nose. Steve’s cheeks flushed, and the table erupted into chaos, terribly intimate questions directed towards you.

“Oh! Are you trying?! How exciting!”

“When you are, make sure Stephen here does everything. It’s the least he can do.”

“How long have you been trying? Don’t give up, Ben and I took two years, but look at us now…”

“How many do you want?”

“Are you still going to work?”

“Kids? So soon?”

“Who’s having a baby? Uncle Steve?!”

“Vivian?” You called, flagging Steve’s mom over.

You took the bottle of previously passed on wine and gave yourself a more than generous pour, and Steve whispered, “Baby, I thought that alcohol could affect your…”

The look you gave him had his mouth closing quickly, keeping his concern about ovulation and hormones to himself. You turned away from him, then answered every single question with grace and a grip on the glass that made Steve gulp around his own drink.

Eventually, the table settled into topics that gave you a small reprieve.

Steve leaned closer, lips almost to the apple of your cheek and you turned, so his kiss was cut off, mouth parted in surprise as he blinked at you. He spoke softly, fingers reaching for yours as he did, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Should we give you two some privacy?” A quip and waggled eyebrows from the other side of the table, and you plastered on a perfect smile and faked a laugh, poured yourself more wine and Steve’s shoulders deflated.

You still hadn’t spoken to him. Dinner passed, and then dessert, and then coats were being pushed on and kids wrangled into cars for the midnight service.

Steve managed to get you close to him in the very backseat of one of the vehicles. He kept his eyes on your profile as you stared straight ahead.

“Are you going to ignore me the entire night? I’m sorry,” he started, voice low.

Your gaze turned to him finally and your chest ached from how apologetic he looked. And honestly, you were over it as quickly as it happened, and the glasses of wine helped, and you were ready to say so. But then Steve’s fingers brushed your knee, up and down and back up your thigh. They nudged at the hem of your skirt, testing. His other fingers curled around your neck, words dipping even lower, soft and for only your ears.

“How else can I tell you I’m sorry, honey?”

Steve’s thumb swiped down your neck, soothing and far too close to your racing pulse. It’d been sort of easy for him lately, and the thrill of making him think you were mad, the chance to make him sweat a little, to work for it, had your underwear growing wet.

“We can talk about it later, when we get home,” you whispered, sternly.

Steve nodded earnestly, until your fingers curled into your skirt, until the red, green and gold fabric pulled higher and higher. Your eyes remained on his until he had to look down, to see your black tights were not tights, but stockings. A sliver of supple skin revealed between plaid skirt and where they ended high on your thigh. The black lace disappearing as quickly as it was shown to him as your skirt dropped again, fanning nicely over your thighs.

His tongue swiped over his lip, adams apple bobbing. He cleared his throat, voice a warning, “Baby-”

The car pulled to a stop, and you were out on the pavement with his family, heading into the church before he’d really even caught his breath.

He watched you hang your coat, and help his nieces and nephews with theirs. His eyes traveled from the black heels up the black stockings that he now knew ended under your pretty Christmas skirt, curved around your thighs delicately and sinfully. He swallowed at the sight of red velvet over your breasts, at the memory of what happened last time you were here.

It was easy to slip away as churchgoers caught up over coffee and doughnuts before the service, as kids became preoccupied in the Sunday school rooms with toys. You made your way down a dark hallway under the guise of the bathroom, and had to bite down on your smile as an arm slunk around your waist and pulled you into a room silently and quickly.

Only lit by the soft light of the navy sky and moon outside, the room was obviously rarely used, a place for mismatched and forgotten things. Steve spun to face you, his fingers behind him clicking the lock closed with a barely audible, but still noticeable click.

“Yes?” You prompted, folding your arms over your chests and hiding your delight at the way the movement made his eyes flit down to your breasts.

Steve crossed the room in quick strides, hands finding your hips and tugging you to him gently as he spoke with sincerity.

“Angel,” his nose traced down the bridge of yours, before he kissed the tip of it, “I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips before he pulled away enough to look into your eyes again, so you could see how truly sorry he was.

“I really didn’t mean to say it, it slipped out. I’m just so excited, and I didn’t even think…”

“I know,” you offered quietly, as your fingers slipped into his hair, curling stray and unruly pieces behind his ears. Your eyes remained focused on your adjustments, sure that if you looked at his eyes for longer than two seconds, you’d forget you were “mad” and fuck him in a church again. You’d break and he’d have barely worked for it.

Steve knew this, you think.

Because your eyes caught the subtle twitch of his lips, the fake deep sigh, the way his head leaned forward until he was at your ear. Hot breath hitting skin in a way that had goosebumps exploding over your entire body, his voice sultry and low as he asked, “Can I make it up to you?”

“Steve…” your half-hearted start to a protest you didn’t want to give lost as he dipped lower, pressing silk lips to your neck.

His palms brushed over the curve of your breasts, they skated down your sides, lower and lower to your hips. As your head fell back, they circled to your ass, grabbing generous handfuls and squeezing as his breath grew sharper against your collarbone. Parted lips dragging across it, the tentative trail of his tongue warm and testing.

“We…we’re in a church,” you gulped around the words, his kisses traveling up the column of your throat now as he nudged your feet backwards.

“Didn’t stop us the last time.” Steve’s voice was shot, a goner the minute you showed him the stockings.

Men were too easy.

Your legs hit a couch arm, and Steve’s fingers grabbed for your jaw gently, thumb pulling at your chin so you had to look at him. Both of your chests moved rapidly, anticipating, as you fell deeper and deeper into the moss and honey in his iris’ - lost in the forest, stuck in the sticky trap.

His other hand roamed to the hem of your skirt, pads of his fingers buzzing over the skin above the stockings as he pulled the fabric higher. His head cocked in a way that said he knew what he was doing, the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he knew that you weren’t mad, not really, but he’d play your game anyways.

“Let me make you feel good, honey,” his lips brushed over yours as he spoke. The chatter of people filling the chapel right outside grew louder, but his voice remained even and soft, “It’s the least I can do, don't you think?”

Maybe you were easy too.

Because you were nodding, and he was easing you down onto the couch. Steve knelt before you, watching you carefully, hungry, as he pulled your heels from your feet, letting them fall to the ground.

Your palms pressed to the cushion behind you as he lifted a leg, your words swallowed and caught somewhere in your chest with your breath as he kissed your ankle bone through the thin material. Steve kept his eyes on you, warm and greedy as he kissed up your calf, at your knee until he was at the top of the thigh high. He gently laid your leg back down, and then pulled at your waist until you were at the edge of the seat.

“You gonna be quiet for me?”

The nod of your head was pitiful, putty in his hands and from his words as he flipped your skirt up. Steve’s lips pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, sweet and in a slow way that had heat rising to your cheeks. Your body hot, spine turning to liquid as he nudged his nose into the damp black silk covering you, as his fingers curled into the waistband.

Steve pulled them from you, sighing at the way they stuck to your lips. He slipped them down your legs, never letting his eyes leave the space between your thighs. He was taking his time, drinking you in with his eyes in a dirty gaze that had your entire body tightening, making you want him more than you ever had, erasing any sort of rationality or thoughts from your brain other than him and this.

His fingers tugged at your hips, squeezing possessively until a whine bubbled out of you, his name a desperate whisper, barely audible over the choir singing.

He hummed when you spread your legs wider for him, pressing against the couch as he leaned in. His hands roamed down and back up your thighs, until they were spreading you.

His thumbs held you apart, mouth a ghost over your cunt. Hot breath exhaled against slick lips that had your toes curling and your lungs somehow forgetting how to take in air. He had you on the ledge, and he hadn’t even started.

Steve pushed closer, the tip of his nose a slow drag through your slit, his lips skimming over your folds behind it, tasting, testing.

His tongue finally made contact with you, a long, slow lick from your entrance to just below your clit, making you wait, making your fingers dig into the cushion and your eyes look towards the heavens.

Steve did it again, painfully slow, the hot and wet glide of his tongue along you sinful. Over and over, flat, broad strokes of it, tasting every bit of you except for your clit, getting you higher and higher, closer to bliss without giving it to you.

You were throbbing, an insistent and buzzing pulse under your skin demanding to be felt, demanding to break. It felt like your ears were crackling with static like the speakers the pastor was now giving his sermon in.

Steve lifted on your hips that wiggled, caressing over the top of your ass. He stopped his movement with his tongue, panting over your cunt, letting his mouth hover against your glistening lips.

Your chest grew heavier with each rise and fall of labored breathing as you watched Steve’s tongue flick out, tracing the curves of you and letting his nose drag and nudge behind it. Teasing and taunting, pulling every last drop of want out, your body taut and ready to snap.

Then he looked up at you.

His cheeks flushed pink, and pupils blown wide, lit up in glittering moonlight streaming in through old and warped glass, he looked like something holy and angelic between your thighs. As if he were worshiping you, praying on his knees at your feet.

The grip he had on your hips shifted, pushing down your thighs and spreading you wider, and his voice was raspy as he asked, “You forgive me?”

Your head nodded once, fingers reaching for his hair to pull him closer, desperate for his mouth to be back on you. Your own voice shot, a pitiful whine as you begged him, “Please, need your-ohmygod.”

Steve’s spit hit your clit, making your thighs go to snap close, but his palms held you open forcefully. He wasn’t an angel worshiping, he was unholy, he was sin, he was filthy as he kept eye contact with you and dipped his mouth over you again.

His lips molded around your pulsing nerves, tongue flicking out in a rhythm that had your entire body lit up, vibrating, fraying and sparking. His hands pushed at your thighs that resisted him, he moaned against you as you fell forward. Your fingers yanking in his hair as your hips moved against his face.

Steve’s exhale was sharp as he released, sinking lower and dragging his tongue over your slit again. He was faster now, keeping his tongue flat against you as he lapped at your cunt, nose nudging against your clit over and over again as you rocked against it.

“Fuck, Ste-,” your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes widened, but Steve didn’t let up. You tugged on his hair, whimpering, and his hand rose, finger pulling at your pouting bottom lip until you were parting for him. You moaned around the black silk he shoved into your waiting mouth.

He doubled down then, tongue prodding at your entrance, fast and precise licks up to your clit he kept working at with his nose. Steve’s heavy lidded gaze up at you had you crying out around the fabric, your chest crumpling over his head as you grinded down against his nose, unraveling for him.

Tears pricked behind your eyes, skin hot as you came around nothing but his tongue, he hadn’t even slipped a finger into you. Steve held your waist now as you arched, letting your thighs finally close around his face as he licked over you, humming against your sensitive nerves as he greedily took in everything you gave him.

He pulled away eventually, nose and lips skimming down your thigh until he was at your stockings. He pressed his cheek to your knee and looked up at you. Your underwear pulled from your mouth and crumpled in your fingers, your eyelashes fluttered as you tried to keep your eyes open, chest rising and falling ragged. You looked at him under your straining eyelids, warmth and affection and something far too sweet for what you two just did behind your gaze.

The choir was singing again, Silent Night, and your fingers pressed to your lips, hiding a smile and a giggle.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he was kind of glad he did.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #superbly subpars writing

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