#had a scruffy daddy lean against me for like a minute straight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fourmarkdove · 4 years ago

Text

Upstate.

Title: Upstate. | Masterlist

Summary: When the Captain learns you’ve kept a secret all these years, he’s more furious than he’s ever been.

Pairing: Syverson x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Angst, breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, dirty talk. Infertility/PCOS.

A/N: Had this in my drafts forever and sort of forgot I wrote it. Comments are welcome! Thanks for reading!

It wasn’t supposed to take this long to get pregnant.

It just wasn’t.

You went on the pill shortly after you met, which wasn’t the most glamorous story, but that one drunken pounding against the ladies bathroom wall just days before he was set to ship out set the tone for your relationship. At least in the beginning.

He did two more tours after that. The first time he was on leave, he dropped to a knee, all suntanned and scruffy, after dinner at your favorite little fish shop on the pier.

“We haven’t known each other so long, but your sweet voice on those phone calls, babydoll. They keep me goin’ when I feel like there’s not much reason to.”

That last time he promised, “We’re gonna settle down for good. You an’ me an’ our brood. Daddy just has some unfinished ass to kick, but don’t you worry, sweetness. Nothin’ but picket fences and backyard barbecues soon as I get back.”

You said of course you’d marry your coarse, burly soldier and there never was a happier man who swept up his girl on that pier in a yellow sundress.

You never thought you’d see the day when your hardline, take no bullshit, don’t give em’ an inch Captain would shed a tear - let alone in public - but he did just that the moment he turned his shoulder and saw you in the just barely off-white dress.

He swept his woman off your feet, saying he wanted to be a gentleman and treat you right. But you knew by the intensity of his gaze and how he barely glanced at the pretty white lingerie before he started tearing it off your body that he was going to have trouble being gentle. Not that you minded. You had no regrets when it came to this swollen beast of a man filling every hole, manipulating your body in unnatural positions because you were smaller and he was strong as a horse and built like a brick wall. He’d pin your wrists to the bed above your head and gorge on your heaving tits, or grip behind your knees and have your feet bouncing behind his thick neck, until you were a sweat slick, foul mouthed whore begging for more of his meaty shaft pounding you into a moaning, senseless mess. You thought growing up there’d be something magical and pure about being a new bride dressed in white giving yourself over, blushing and shy, to the man you promised to love forever.

The reality was so much more visceral. All you wanted for days on end was his thick body forcing your thighs open, his hands gripping your flesh, fingers leaving bruises on your hips, crushing kisses that nearly made you faint, the salty taste of his sweat and cum dripping from your lips and cunt, rolling down your thighs, smeared onto the teeth marks he left around your nipples and on your ass like a soothing balm. The only soundtrack in the house was the grunting feral sounds over you as if he willed his very being into yours through the force of each veiny thrust. And the lewd slapping of flesh against flesh, sometimes muted just a bit by the rough hair trailing down his torso leading to his monster cock. The sound of his thighs clapping against your ass and thighs as he fisted your hair and drove himself into your cervix never ever got tiresome.

When he’d get too close, he’d devour your cunt, biceps and forearms flexing and lifting you to his face, swallowing every drop of your slick mixed with his, swirling his thick tongue over your sensitive clit, feeding the mixed liquids back inside your slit. He’d drop to a knee and spread you over his shoulders if you didn’t make it to bed, or in bed, he’d trail down your body, nipping and biting, picking up your skin between his teeth, flashing those blue eyes up at you. He loved going down on his woman maybe even more than burying his throbbing cock, so he’d always glance up to see your lashes flutter, eyes roll back, lips part and scream silently as he gorged on your sex. His beard scratched between your thighs and made you that much more sensitive but fuck you loved it and he loved marking you. He’d sink his sharp canines into the crease of your thigh and bite down just hard enough to make you cry out and arch for him.

By the time you were begging to come and whimpering his name like a prayer, he’d force his heavy, uncut cock all the way inside and start grinding, flexing every muscle in his core powering the grunting snaps of his hips into yours, seeking both of your release. And his mouth would get so filthy pressed to your ear.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up with all this cum. Not gonna be able to walk straight for weeks. That’s right spread wider for me. Fuckin’ give me that cunt. You’re gonna take it all like a good girl aren't ya? Get you all round - knocked up with my seed over and over. All that thick cream in these balls is just for you. That’s right. You want it? Milk it, babe.”

He growled and groaned, slapping his balls against your ass, all of the things that made you gasp and close down on him. You’d come first. Always. pulling the head of his cock right up against your cervix. He’d keep thrusting through your orgasm and his followed quickly after.

His big body could crush you under his weight but you loved it, practically demanded it, so he’d half roll off, resting mostly on his side and forearm and hip, while he panted into your hair on the pillow. But you wanted him all over your skin. The musky scent of his, still rolling down his hot skin, sweaty and thick with pheromones and sex, from working so hard to get both of you off over and over, you had no way to explain how you loved it - except by licking up the side of his neck and suckle kissing behind his ear while he panted into the pillow, his bicep and forearm heavy across your chest or around your hip, still holding you possessively.

He’d chuckle, still panting and turn his head on the pillow. Voice still rough from the beating his vocal cords took while he growled, huffed, groaned and barked instructions to you, he’d whisper in those quieter moments.

“Insatiable, kitten. Gimme a minute. Daddy knows what you need.”

You’d turn over in his weighty, tree bough arms and nuzzle into his hairy chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat hard and steady under your fingers. Tree trunk legs could pull all of you into him, and he’d fold you into his center, so not a single inch of you would have to touch sticky bed sheets when he rolled over onto his back. Thick fingers spread across your back, soothing over your roughed up skin, lifting your hair off of your sweaty neck, until the cool air in the room and his perpetually hot skin balanced to the perfect temperature somewhere in the middle.

It went on like that for three, six, nine months once he was home for good. Only two things changed as the months went on. His chocolate curls grew and spilled onto his forehead - which you loved to run your hands through - and you conceded the beard stays if the curls do too.

You came off the pill immediately, from that first night he came home, and never went back to it.

“Sweetness, don’t stress about it,” he’d coo gently, finding you curled up in bed or in the bathroom, sitting alone in the empty back bedroom in the new house. He’d try to squeeze the sadness out of your body every single month with his huge bear arms.

“It’s fun to try again, ain’t it?” he’d wiggle his eyebrows, and make you giggle through the tears. The more playful he was about it, the harder he leaned into trying everything he could to make it easier on you, so that meant a lot of research on websites. He never in a million years thought he’d be reading up on ‘luteal phases’.

He never had to be told twice that you might be ovulating. You’d whisper it to him sometimes he’d sense it. In bed, he’d smell that wet heat before you even backed your ass up against him, wiggling your aching core against the base of his raging erection. Slipping his big hand down your tummy and into your panties, he’d slide a long couple fingers through your slick heat, spreading your pussy lips achingly wide before withdrawing his hand and wrapping his other arm around the front of your shoulders.

“Mmph looks like you’re ready,” he’d groan, checking the viscosity of your juices. Spreading your slick between his fingers, he’d lick at it, gripping you tighter as you’d smirk and work your hips mercilessly on his dick.

That one taste would be enough to work him into a rutting frenzy though. “Got damnit, I need a taste,” he’d growl, climbing down and burying his face between your thighs. His mouth and beard would come up glistening with your juices and he’d look positively lust drunk on the stuff. Spreading his knees, he’d hoist your thighs up onto his, spreading your knees over his hips, so he’d be able to have a perfect look at your swollen cunt.

Pupils dilated and breathing hard, he’d pinch the hood of your clit and stroke it between his finger and thumb, making you squeal and writhe, pulling your own hair. He was in awe of your pussy every time he actually looked at that tiny, suckling hole - how in the world did you manage to stretch and accept his girthy cock? It had to hurt, right? It HAD to. Gripping your hips, he pulled you up to himself, one forearm supporting under your ass, and the other around your back. Touching foreheads, he nuzzled you lovingly.

You kissed him hungrily, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip before letting go. Hair mussed and giving him the darkest look, rolling your hips in his lap, you purred deep. Much to your confusion, he was the one to slow things down, smiling in his gorgeous blue eyes, kissing over your forehead, temples, eyelashes, nose, each lip.

“I wanna give you everything, babydoll,” he sighed, dropping his head to kiss over your shoulder.

Arching your back, you had him grip onto your hands and ease you, still spread over his hairy thighs, back onto the bed.

“Put a baby in me,” you demanded. He huffed out a sharp breath, puffing out his cheeks, before plunging two thick fingers into your cunt, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. You shrieked and moaned in pleasure, arching deeply.

He could have been gentle but those five little words; that demand of yours. You were his new CO and when he received orders, he ploughed through at a punishing pace.

“Gotta prime these walls,” he grunted, thrusting his fingers in and out, turning his hand so he could rub sloppy juices spilling out of your cunt. Leaning over, he pressed his palm against the mattress next to your head and did something near a one handed push up, coming nose to nose with you.

“Why we gotta prime walls, baby?”

You whined as he flexed and slipped a third thrusting finger into your slurping cunt, begging for something larger to grip onto.

“We prime…” you panted, clawing across the tense muscles in his chest, “because you’re gonna… paint my walls… with your seed.”

Giving you his tongue, he withdrew his fingers and smeared his fingers over his precum-leaking meaty member. Just pushing it down to the right angle and you arched, digging your toes into his tree trunk thighs as you accepted his cock into your aching insides. You cried out, tossing your head back, but that just made him latch onto your throat and thrust into your cervix like a battering ram.

You screamed his name two, maybe three times, and he bared his teeth, growling and swearing, struggling to hold on, planking on his forearms desperate not cum yet while your smaller slippery body, squirmed and writhed under him. One second you were hissing and gasping, sinking your teeth and nails into his shoulders or biceps. The next you’d sob and dig your feet in, because you were so stretched and so sensitive. If he could just hold on that second longer, you’d grab at his ass, let your thighs open up and release your massaging death grip on his cock still buried as deep as he last thrust before you clamped down on him to begin with. Then he slowed just a bit to kiss your panting mouth as the orgasmic shockwaves relaxed. Your deep purr indicated you were ready for more, so he’d catch under your knees and fold you in half, pounding your body at a different angle.

When it was time, he bore his teeth and groaned, burying his face in your neck, getting sloppy with his thrusts until the last two that were exceptionally deliberate, seeding white hot cum directly to the source, his slit ground mercilessly against your cervix, for a direct shot at emptying himself into your womb.

When all was said and done, you’d toss him a pillow and he’d kneel between your legs, pushing the pillow under you to keep your hips elevated. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he kissed all around your sensitive mound. Kissing inside your thighs, he could thumb your swollen lips apart and see how completely full he’d filled you, to the point of leaking, but neither of you minded. If it wasn’t too tender, he’d clean you up with his tongue before lying down with you again, closing your legs, and drawing both your knees up over his hip.

You assured him every time that the pain was hardly anything as you shuddered and clung onto his imposing frame. It was only the last couple of months that instead of giggling and demanding ice cream in bed after what you both agreed was the best sex anyone on the planet was having, you just wanted to be held.

“Shhh, shhh... I got you, sweetness,” he’d soothe, drawing up blankets, rubbing you all over. He’d tuck you into his chest, and you’d curl up even smaller, your soft little body trembling against his twitching muscle always felt amazing before. But not when it came with tears. You hid your face away when he asked what was wrong, but he felt the little puffs of held breath and silent tears falling into his chest hair.

Finally, finally, one night spent cradling you in his arms and kissing your tears away, he convinced you. And you didn’t just break your silence.

You shattered.

“Doc told me years ago... it isn’t... I’ll never have…babies of my own. My hormones are all wrong for it. She said shots, maybe IVF but… even conceiving… even if possible, it’d be…”

The worried lines around his eyes and across his forehead smoothed out as he stared at the blinking red light on the smoke detector above the bed. He stayed quiet, putting an arm behind his head.

“I hoped I would have found a better way to tell you all this before now.”

“You knew before we met?” His voice was uncomfortably calm. “Five years ago.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to—“

“Ya kept it from me. No indication whatsoever there were problems on the home front, though.”

“I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to say anything because we’d somehow be pregnant by now and—“

“Ya let me think everything was fine. Told me, “Come on home, soldier. Let’s try workin’ on that family again.’ And I did. Every tour. I came crawlin’ home to you.”

Sitting up against the headboard, he flicked on the bedside lamp and scratched his beard, eventually dropping his upturned hands on his thighs, displaying his defeat.

Even though you wore his shirt from the night before and he was naked, barely covered by the bedsheet, you felt entirely exposed. You wanted to dissolve into liquid and melt into the floor or shed your skin and slink into a nook and never come out again.

His wide eyes plead with you: ‘give me something substantial to grasp onto. Toss a rope and a damn good reason for all of the lies to a drowning man.’

There was only one reason, but you couldn’t bear saying it out loud. You couldn’t the entire time you knew him.

Slipping his hand behind your neck, he thumbed your chin up to look at him. “You thought I wouldn’t want ya if I knew, huh.”

Your bottom lip quivered but he didn’t let you collapse into yourself. Looking over your tense, teary, flushed features thoughtfully, he stayed silent. He had a way of looking still as a sheet of ice while a raging current boiled just underneath. That kind of stillness gave those under his command confidence because even amidst chaos, he made solid decisions. Ones that saved their lives, kept them out of harm's way.

In that moment, you felt no confidence. Sitting on your knees expectantly, you trembled all over. He moved his thumb down from your chin as he inhaled audibly, and furrowed his brow exhaling forcefully, wrapping his massive hand around your throat.

The moments waiting made your ears hot and the blood rush to your face. Tightness crept across your chest. You broke the silence first or you’d have lost your mind.

“You’re angry.”

He chuckled ruefully and went placid in an instant. “Angry. Mmm... Yes, that is one way to describe it, darlin’. Never more so, as a point of fact.”

Swallowing down tears, if he wouldn’t let you drop your head, at least you could close your eyes.

“No.” His calloused thumb stroked up and down the side of your neck. “No—no, you don’t get to do that. Not with me.”

“Please, Sy!” You burst, holding onto his wrist with both hands. “Please say something! I can’t take it!”

He sniffed and took his hand back, rubbing them together instead of touching you any longer. His broad shoulders lifted and dropped. “Not quite sure what to say.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at you, not entirely, so he arched a brow and gave a sideways glance. His voice was rough and deep with more emotion than either of you anticipated. “I was uh… unapproachable?”

Lifting your head from your hands, it made your heart shred into a pulp seeing the lifted brows and pained expression tensing his features. “What?”

“Unapproachable,” he graveled, cursing the emotion that made him choke up. “Fuck. I know I can be direct. I been tryin’ real hard to be gentle with you. Did I give the impression you couldn’t, ya know, tell me things?”

“No, of course not, Sy. I tell you everything.”

His smoldering ember pile only needed a breath of fresh air before it came roaring to life, consuming these new logs you’d placed on top.

“Gotdamn it. You knew this was important to me. The way you carried on, let me believe we had a life together. A future. With our family. Do I even know you?”

Smoke from the fire burning inside him made your eyes sting and water.

“Please, stop it, Sy,” you pleaded, pulling away from his grasp. “Please!”

The flames of anger - or was it hate - turned his pupils dark and made him somehow appear even larger with each deep breath.

“How do I know where the lies stop and you begin?”

Embers of his rage floated in the air and easily took to you like the driest kindling. You exploded unlike you never had before. Fists balled and panting, you squared your shoulders up and shifted your weight.

“You know what? Fine. Here’s the truth: I was barely 18 when the doctor looked at me and said, ‘consider adoption’. I wasn’t even thinking about kids then, only why I had cramps every month but no period.

“We’ve tried correcting hormones for years with so little success I’ve felt like a goddamn science project while my friends moved on, grew up, got married, raised families. Do you know how devastating it is to slog through one of those baby showers? Everyone is so warm and happy, celebrating new life and how their bodies produce something amazing.

“Meanwhile, all I can think about is how if I were to conceive by some fucking miracle, the chances of miscarriage are so high, it’d make more sense to plan some kind of memorial for a child I’ll never meet instead of a cute little fucking baby shower.

“And it’s the one thing you asked of me! What kind of a woman am I that I can’t give you the one thing you wanted?! A broken one. With a broken womb. So yeah, be upset with me. Hate me, Sy. But I promise you’re never gonna catch up. I’ve got years’ worth of a head start hating myself.”

Eyes bleary and completely heartbroken now that he knew your secret, your head dropped and you held it in pain from the headache that exploded from the tension.

You didn’t wait even thirty seconds before he nudged your head back up again with his knuckle. Your chest ached so badly from barely containing the sobbing. The moment you saw his arms were already open waiting for you to fall into, you gasped and let the tears come.

You leaned in an inch and he scooped you up the rest of the way. Helping you settle into his lap, thighs spread over his, he cradled you tenderly to his bare chest, wrapping you up in his entire upper body. Burying your face into his neck, you mewled his name softly when his lips pressed behind your ear.

“Sy, I—“

“Shh shh shh…” his baritone was so deep, you could feel and hear it as he dropped his head low to speak close like it was your own secret space to be alone together. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I know, babygirl, I know. Shh shh…”

Rubbing circles over your back, he gave you time to release through deep sobs some of that suffering you’d been dragging with you.

“I’m disappointed, shh—disappointed we can’t have our own, ‘course. But I think I’m more disappointed that you been upset this whole time over somethin’ we coulda sorted out together. Years ago. Babydoll, it breaks my heart to think of you bein’ this sad. Makes it a hundred times worse if you were upset ‘bout lettin’ me down. And you usin’ that ‘hate’ word in the same breath to describe the love of my life… Geez babygirl, that tears my heart right out my chest.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks. You pressed your palms against his hard as rock chest while he encircled you in his long reach. Tears rimmed his blue eyes as you wordlessly attempted to work out if he planned to let go or hold onto you. Eventually, you collapsed into him, exhausted.

“Look at me, Sweetheart. It’s important. What? Louder. Deep breath and one more time? Oh. No, I know it’s gonna make you cry more but imma make it better, I promise. Lemme see my girl. There she is.”

You sniffled and rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. Your lips and eyes felt swollen from crying, and your hair was a mess, but he smiled in his soft blue eyes and stroked it back.

“Kids, no kids, doesn’t matter. I wanted you. Ask Parker or any other CO I work with. That very first night I saw you I said, “Imma marry that girl,” and here we are. But since we are married, I wanna know the things goin’ on inside ya. Not just ‘how ya feelin’, are ya hungry, are ya horny’ type stuff.”

You scoffed, kissing his cheek softly. He squeezed your hips tightly, lifting you closer, up higher on his pelvis, angling slightly back onto the pillows. He didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, but your heat, wiggling in his lap, and that you were starting to let go of some things inexplicably made the blood rush to his groin. You’d feel it in a second if he didn’t adjust your seating situation and lie back with you a bit.

“You’re not ‘broken’, sweets. And I don’t ever want to hear ya talkin’ ‘bout my girl like ‘at. You’re all woman, an’ the only one for me. You locked that right down in that pretty blue dress down on the pier years ago. Was it yellow? Nah. Really? With the little red… Huh. Color blind or not, this heart ain’t even mine no more so best be lookin’ after it. Yeah, you can cry now. Come here, babygirl. Daddy’s got you.”

When most of the tears were shed, he thumbed the dimples right above your panty line, just under the back of his lifted shirt you wore. Soothed very nearly to sleep, your fingers wound their way through his hair. He sighed letting his head fall back into your hands; he always loved when you scritched him like a puppy. Wrapping both hands behind your thighs, he held you in place, pressed to him and straightened up his neck when he really enjoyed what you were doing to him.

“Right there?” you cooed softly, raking your nails through his hair, down to the nape of his neck.

“Mmph,” he grunted affirmatively, tipping his chin down. He found one button on the shirt you wore straining against the fabric, exposing your bare skin right in front of his face. So he nuzzled into it. The unexpected tickle of his beard when he kissed inside made you gasp and arch back.

“Hey!” you squeaked and a mischievous smirk flashed across his face. He looped a finger inside his red flannel, releasing the fabric right below your belly button.

His eyes flashed up at you again as he pressed his mouth to your belly, swirling his thumbs in circles over your hips when he slid them inside the oversized flannel draped loosely on your body.

You closed your eyes, curling your fingers in his hair, and listened to the sound of the deliberate, wet kisses he placed from one hip to the other.

Hugging just under the curve of your behind, he ran his scratchy beard against your sensitive skin, but you still cradled the back of his head to you just the same. Finally kissing down to the apex of your sex, using his tongue to moisten the spot first, he placed a slow, suckling kiss that made your clit pulse and hips jerk involuntary.

“Sorry,” you mewled, pawing his hair. His jaw tensed and head lifted just slightly when your body responded so abruptly.

He nuzzled your skin and arched a brow up at you. “Don't be sorry, babygirl. Are you gonna let Daddy make ya feel good?”

A darkness fell across your features hearing that particular pet name for him. You tugged the shirt together.

“I don’t think I can do this, Sy. It’d be the first time not trying for... I can’t think about the… the emptiness. Feels like I’m giving something away too soon.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, collecting your hand from his shoulder. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“Time… I guess. And you. Fuck, Sy. I must sound crazy. The way I’m talking, it’s like somebody died.

Here I am going on when you’ve actually witnessed people die.

I don’t want to diminish what you’ve been through with my nonsense.

Of course we need to do this.

We need to do this.

I want this.

I need you.

I need us.

I need this.

Fuck me, Captain.

Fuck me senseless.”

You made quick work shrugging out of his shirt and wrapped both arms around his thick neck. Fisting the mattress, he shouldered your ribs so quickly, it knocked you right off balance and onto his arm. Gripping under one of your thighs, he used that massive upper body strength of his to lie you back gently onto the mattress, holding your whole body up with just one arm.

As he eased you down onto your back, you went quiet and he leaned on his elbow to look down over you.

You stared up at the red blinking light on the smoke detector a long time while he pressed his large forearm down against your chest, between your breasts, and spread his palm over your sternum, attempting to give you an anchor point. Your arms laid limp, one above your head, one at your side, almost like you were having a nightmare except wide awake.

He’d seen that vacant look in the eyes of fresh infantry grunts after their first real battle and brush with death. But he never thought he expected to see it stateside, in the eyes of his wife.

Doing what felt natural to do, after all he was trained for it, he dropped his voice and redirected your attention.

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I know you’re feelin’ pretty rough inside. Grief is grief however it comes. Yeah, it’ll take time. But that’s why you’ve got your Unit to fall back on. Unit of two, you an’ me. Makes us a pretty elite team. I’ll do some of the heavy lifting for ya now that I know what we’re working with. I need ya to stay with me though, yeah?”

“Unit of two. I like it. Will you ever… Oh Sy, will you ever touch me like that again?”

He frowned, wrinkles lining his forehead. “Sweets, hell nor high water gonna keep me from lovin’ on you.”

Three months later, you returned home from a walk with the new puppy to find Sy standing in the front lawn, one hand on his hip and the other waving at the delivery truck to keep backing up.

“More wood?” you called from across the street over the roar of the diesel truck lift dropping green treated lumber along the side of the house. While your husband signed off on the delivery, you crossed to meet him in the grass with the puppy under your arm.

Looping a sweaty arm around you, he pulled you in by the hip and kissed the crown of your head.

“Thank ya, sir. See ya’ next Saturday,” Sy smiled behind his reflective sunglasses, shaking the driver’s hand.

“Next Saturday?” you repeated, glancing over your shoulder at the new pile of lumber that had been dwindling as he completed projects. Or at least it was. “I thought the treehouse was done, my love.”

“Oh, it is. Come have a look see.” He dwarfed your hand in his, taking you to the sprawling backyard. His truck was parked at an angle on the lawn with his tools laid out in the back and sketches drawn all over sheets on the hood.

Leaning in with his hip, he showed you his drawings, motioning with his hands as to where they should be or already were in the yard.

“Swing set? Done. Slides over there? Done. High and low bars - also done. Rope bridge, climbing apparatus, bouncer thing, treehouse, done.”

Tilting your face, you bumped your head against his chest appreciatively and he smirked. “I want to build out chairs that flip down on the deck. Not sure on the height is all. I don’t suppose you have any input?”

“All the social worker has said is to plan on three siblings from upstate. Two boys and a girl, between the ages of 5 and 10. Sorry I don’t have any help as far as height goes. I think we are more than ready for the little ones next week, Sy. Why don’t you come inside and cool down with me?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he glanced over his shoulder at the freshly installed fence blocking the neighbors’ view. “Better idea, babygirl. How ‘bout we give those swings a try first. Should hold both our weight, I reckon.”

Arching a brow, you folded your arms across your chest, pretending to be annoyed. “Oh, you ‘reckon,’ hm?” you repeated, patting his sweaty chest through his tank top. “Bear, we already have a sex swing upstairs.”

“Yeahhhhh...” he drawled, giving you his most sly smirk, “but this one is outdoors.”

“Captain! I can’t believe you!” you gasped, touching your imaginary pearls before pushing off the wall of muscle your husband provided when he folded his arms across his chest, launching yourself into a dead sprint across the grass toward the swing set. “Ladies first!!”

He chuckled, and jogged behind. “’Course, babygirl.”

Masterlist

#fourmarkdovewrites #fourmarkdove masterlist #syverson x reader #captain syverson fic #hurt/comfort #tw:#tw: pregnancy #tw: infertility #henry cavil #henry cavill smut

719 notes · View notes

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine

Erik and Reader are best friends and Reader is the best freaky love for Erik but he doesn’t know how freaky she is. He finds out when he sees her at a heels class dancing to Beyoncé- Rocket.

“Deep down, everyone doubts themselves. Sometimes, I think I’m not good enough but at the end of the day I know I’m the fucking shit. I pray you quit overthinking, replaying failed scenarios, feeding self doubt & seeing the good in everyone but yourself you deserve more, ma.”

He passes Y/N the blunt, licking his full lips with a quick swipe of his tongue, and showing off his gold canines. Taking a puff of weed, Y/N watches Erik scratch the side of his defined torso over a tattoo that says Fuck Reality in that cursive lettering she loved to see. He yawns, blinking his sleepy eyes a few times before looking over at Y/N. She couldn’t help but look at his face.

“Make yourself a priority, Y/N. For real. Stop settling for these toxic lame ass niggas. When you meet a real nigga you gon’ realize you was never asking for too much.”

Y/N passed the blunt back to Erik while staring out of his bedroom window from his king sized bed. She knew her worth, she really did, but she always ended up going back to the same fuck boys.

“You’re too fine to be giving all your time and energy into him. Too fine. My bestfriend needs to know her worth. You looking at me like that but I’m being honest, shit, when was the last time you felt appreciated? When was the last time a nigga did something for you and didn’t expect something in return? Called to check up on you? Texted you back? Ate your pussy because he knows you had a rough week and you just need your pussy ate? Some good sex? When?”

Her carefree bestfriend with his tapered dreads and full beard and mustache. His sincere whiskey colored eyes and messy brows that he always talked with. Raising them, creasing them. He smooths a hand down his solid and sculpted chest before resting that hand over his abs. The gold rings on his fingers against his brown skin was just as beautiful as the sun setting before them.

“I can’t remember. I’m embarrassed to say,” Y/N finally speaks. She heaved a sigh, unzipping her velour pink hoodie, a white form-fitting shirt underneath, “I know I deserve more. Ugh, now I’m going to be single and lonely for Valentine’s.”

Erik sat up on his elbows, the hue of the sunset against his russet skin, “I’m your valentine now. i’ll be there at 10pm climbing through your bedroom window with flowers. Dahlias right? Cool, I’ll see you later tonight?” Erik gave Y/N a teasing smile. She knew he was trying to make her feel better but it didn’t change the fact that it sounded so...honest? Like he wanted to do and say that.

“Scary movies and chill? That romantic movie shit is played out. We can snuggle close with some popcorn with Freddy Kruger on the screen.”

“Your obsession with 80s slasher movies is amazing,” Y/N laughs, “Why must you mix Valentine’s with blood and gore, Erik?”

“Why not? Instead of bleeding your heart out because you’re heart broken, you can watch a heart actually bleeding out,” Erik chuckles before he ashes out the blunt in his ceramic ashtray that Y/N made for him with 4/20 carved into it.

“Should I dress up?” Y/N played along.

“Just keep those same straight backs in your hair and wear those little stripe linen shorts that make your ass look nice. Oh, and that mini white T-shirt that says Daddy on it in pink letters. Can’t forget the mix match ankle socks either.”

“You can wear a durag with a pair of grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt. The ones you wear that’s all loose fitting on you because you refuse to wear a tighter one? Yeah, and a pair of Vans.”

“What time for our little date, ma?”

“8. And don’t be late either.”

“To a date with you? Never.”

“Okay, I have a question,” Y/N turns towards him, “what’s your idea of a perfect night with your girl?”

“Hmm,” Erik rolled his moistened lips in deep thought, “Dick rubs and intellectual conversations. Head in a comfortable bed. Falling asleep with my head laying on her crotch so I can just pull her panties to the side and eat her pussy. Honestly, give pleasure by just being there. We don’t even have to talk or fuck. Presence is just comforting.”

“That sounds amazing,” Y/N never had those things but that’s what her bestfriend likes? She wished she had that same treatment.

“Those chill, nice nights with someone you feel comfortable with.” Erik spoke in a low tone while twirling a single loc, “I crave that.”

“I know, ugh, me too, Erik,” Y/N laid back against the bed, “I have to go to class today.”

Erik gave her a questioning look, “What class?”

Y/N turned around to lay on her belly, “A heels class. Remember I was telling you that I started doing this like a month ago?”

“Shorty, I have other things going on with me right now I didn’t focus on that,” Erik gives her a sad look, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been working on a routine. I think I have it down. It’s gonna be real sexy.”

“Sexy? Who you tryna impress with this class?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N teased.

“Ah, man. That ain’t fair, ma. I’m your bestie.”

“You are but I don’t need to tell you my business,” Y/N rolls her eyes into her head.

“It’s cool, cuz I’m coming there with you.”

Y/N’s face flushed.

“What? I can’t come-“

“NO.”

She didn’t want Erik to watch her dance. Being surrounded by those women made her feel like she was in her room dancing in the mirror. They all connected because they related to each other. If Erik came there she would probably mess up her routine since he would definitely be watching her move. It was a heels choreography class and Erik is a man, he’s going to watch. Y/N wore either a pair of black high crotch panties with fishnets and a cropped t shirt or a form fitting leotard with black sheer stockings. Six inch heels on her feet with a skinny heel since she’s gotten better. Popping her ass and hitting splits to the music. Erik never saw her like that. What would he say and do when he did?

“It really ain’t that deep, ma,” Erik jokes because Y/N was spaced out, “I promise I won’t laugh at you. I don’t have shit else to do but sit around so let me come with you.”

Y/N pondered while staring down at her hands before heaving a sigh of defeat, “okay. You can come.”

“I knew you would say yes,” Erik gave her a half smirk, “You can’t tell me no even if you tried.”

“Don’t embarrass me in there, Erik,” Y/N spoke to him with a warning in her voice. She knew he could be silly and fuck with her but when she danced, it was her time to shine.

“Teh, girl, you really think I would do that?”

Erik got closer to Y/N, leaning on his elbows while his face got closer to hers, “I’ll be on the side lines cheering you on. I promise, okay?”

Y/N looked up into his eyes, giving Erik a weird look before turning away from him, “Okay.”

He was acting very...strange. Not like his usual self but Y/N could be overthinking it. She sat up on her knees, lifting off the bed to put her sneakers back on before picking up her velour jacket and her PINK gym bag that carried all of the things she needed for class.

“Put on a shirt and come on, Erik.” She picked up a shirt that was wrinkled and balled up on the floor before throwing it at him, “I’m not trying to be late!”

“Calm that shit the fuck down, Y/N. Don’t give me attitude before I really make you late for this class.”

—————————-

“You calm down yet?” Erik asks Y/N while following behind her to the dance studio that held her heels class. The closer they walked, the more Erik could hear the deep base to the sensual music that vibrates the walls. He’d sit back and watch a bunch of women shake their ass in heels. Erik looked at his bestfriend walking ahead of him as she lead the way with a sway of her hips. Those tantalizing hips. Erik looked up at the back of her head as if she had eyes back their and could see him checking her out. He couldn’t help himself. Like he said back in his room, she’s too fine.

“Are you going to behave?” She looked back at him over her shoulder with a brow raised, “Well? Are you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Erik said with a husky voice, “whatever you say.”

Y/N rolled her eyes before making a left turn, opening the double doors to a dimly lit studio with a pink neon sign of a woman in heels that read dance. A few chairs rested in the corner of the room, mirrors were placed on one side of the wall so that the ladies could watch themselves. A guy stood off to the side in deep conversation with a short plump girl about 5’ 3 dressed in a mesh leotard with red fishnets and heels. He was fumbling with a camcorder that Erik assumes is used to record the ladies do their routines. On the polished hardwood floor, directly in the middle, were all the ladies doing stretches. Some were down in a split stretching out their legs, others were bending over to touch their toes, stretching out their backs. Erik recognized the music. It sounded like Teyana Taylor & Kehlani- Morning.

“Okay, I gotta get myself changed, I’ll be back, alright?” Y/N spoke with a whisper to him.

“Yeah, I’ll be over here,” Erik pointed to a black chair with a leather cushion to sit on.

“Cool,” Y/N gave Erik a silly smile before walking away, waving to a few ladies as she made her way over to the dressing room. Erik rested his hands in the pockets of his black cargo pants that he wore. The wrinkled shirt wasn’t the shirt he had on. He was wearing a muscle tee with the sides cut really low, giving you a view of his muscles and scars along his ribs down to his hips. Black boots on his feet and gold around his neck and on his fingers. Erik scratches his scruffy facial hair while looking around the class. When he did this, eyes were on him, wondering who this handsome guy was that came with Y/N. He entertained their looks for a minute before taking his phone out of his pocket to scroll through pointless apps.

“Oooo, Y/N, what routine are we gonna start out with today, honey?” A tall mocha skinned girl with a large curly bush and a black catsuit on asked. Erik looked up at the mention of her name. His eyes seemed to widen and gawk at Y/N. Erik was in a state of stupor. Stupefied but mesmerized at the same time.

“I have something I’ve been working on all week but that can wait for tomorrow. I gotta have a guy to do the lap dance with. When is Montell coming back?”

“Girl, why use Montell when you can use him?” The tall chick pointed at Erik. Erik looks over at Y/N, watching her eyes grow wide.

“Erik? No,” Y/N laughs, “He’s just here to watch until I’m done.”

The chubby chick that was talking to the camera guy came over to intrude, “Isn’t that your boyfriend though?”

“No. He’s my bestfriend and he’s just going to watch.”

“Well, can I use him for my routine then? I put a little something something together to Ciara- Body Party and I need a nigga to pop this ass on. He so cute, Y/N. Hi bestfriend!” The pretty chubby girl waved at Erik who returned the wave with a smile on his full lips.

“He is cute. How can you just be friends with that?”

“Dominique,” Y/N was referring to the taller chick, “Erica,” She looked over at the short plump girl, “I’m using him for my routine.” Y/N spoke with finality. Wasn’t no chick in that class gonna put ass on him if it wasn’t her.

“Oh? Why the change of heart?” Dominique folded her arms while giving Y/N a sassy smile. Y/N didn’t say a word as she walked away, looking over at Erik before sticking her tongue out at him. He was in a fit of laughter, clutching his chest and everything.

Y/N was dressed in a black thong with sheer black stockings that had tiny rhinestones on it, a tiny black and gold wrap top that made her breast sit high and black stilettos on her feet. All that ass out and bouncing each time she walked. Erik knew his bestfriend has body but damn, he never saw her like this. Y/N was fumbling with a wall audio system that was installed to play throughout the studio. She found the song she wanted, pausing it, then grabbing a chair to bring in the center of the dance floor. The other ladies crowded around and the camera guy set up so that it was facing her. Y/N then walked over to Erik, a roll of her eyes while trying to fight a smile. She got down in front of him in a squat, talking closely with him. Erik leaned forward on his elbows to hear her.

“Okay, so I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that but,” She sighed, “I’m gonna need you for my routine.”

“Hmm,” Erik smirked, “What I gotta do?”

Y/N licked her lips, “All you gotta do is sit in that chair for me. You’ll be in that chair while I do all the work, alright?”

“Let me ask you something,” Erik narrowed his eyes, “Why did you change your mind so quick?”

Y/N rolled her eyes away from him before kissing her teeth, “You gonna do that for me, or what?”

“You ain’t off the hook, ma,” Erik stood up, while looking down at Y/N who was still in a squat position while staring up the valley of his body to connect with his eyes, “You gon’ tell me after this class.”

“Whatever,” Y/N finally got up, grabbing Erik’s hand with force, walking him to the middle of the dance floor. He wasn’t nervous one bit. He wanted to see what his bestie could do.

“Sit.” She instructed, earning oooo’s and ahhhh’s from the ladies around them. Erik raises his brows at her before taking his seat real slow, legs wide and one arm stretched over the back of the chair. He motioned with his head for Y/N to get started, his eyes intense and heated. Y/N motioned for one of the girls she started the class with to play her song.

Beyoncé- Rocket began to play.

Let me sit this ass

On you

Y/N sat down real slow on Erik while looking back at him. She wound her hips, back arching and ass moving up the length of his crotch nice and gently. She did a spin on his lap, her leg going up and over his head so she could straddle him. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders before pulling on his shirt to bring him closer to her. She made him watch her while her hips moved over him. Erik has to hold onto the sides of the chair.

Show you how I feel

Let me take this off

Will you watch me

Yes, mass appeal

Don't take your eyes

Don't take your eyes off it

Watch it, babe

If you like

You can touch me baby

Do you

Do you wanna touch me baby, ooh

Grab a hold, don't let go

Let me know

That you

Ready (ready)

Erik looked at her with eyes so deeply filled with desire there was no denying his attraction to his bestfriend. Y/N held those eyes with her low ones, before grabbing his jaw to tease him. She almost touched his lips with hers but she pulled away before Erik could even get a taste.

I just wanna show you now

Slow it down

Go around

You rock hard

Y/N stood up, getting down on her knees in front of Erik while running a hand from his chest down to his crotch that was indeed rock hard.

I rock steady

She bounced up and down in a squat to demonstrate how steady she would rock on that hard dick. A few chicks wolf whistled at that, cheering her on.

And rock right up to the side of my mountain

Climb until you reach my peak baby, peak babe, peak

And reach right into the bottom of my fountain

Y/N pats her kitty kat to indicate where that fountain he needed to find was.

I wanna play in your deep baby, your deep baby, deep

Then dip me under where you can feel my river flowing and flow

Y/N went back on the floor, her legs coming all the way up to rest on each side of her head. She was open like the peace sign. Her hands ran up her body, eyes still on Erik to show him that she was nothing to play with. He gave her a sly smirk that showed off a single dimple. So this how she got down? She danced all freaky like this? Showing him where she wanted him to go with his hardness?

Hold me 'til I scream for air to breathe

She grabs her neck, body arching from the floor. Erik could feel his dick growing stiffer.

And wash me over until my well runs dry

Send all your sins all over me, babe, me baby, me

Rock it…

Y/N got up from the floor, swaying her hips. She stared into the camera, moving in those heels like she was wearing a pair of sneakers. Erik didn’t know she was this flexible. When she arched her back to pop her ass, getting into a split stance while running her hand on her crotch he wanted to lift from that chair, pick her up, and hold the back of her neck while making her pop her ass on his hard crotch. He had to have restraint because this is her routine but FUCKKK, was it hard.

Rock it 'til waterfalls

Bathe in these waterfalls

She grinned her hips into the floor before bringing her legs up from behind, her heels almost touching the back of her head before rolling over to lift a single leg in the air, grinding her hips forward. She was showing him what that body could do. She was showing him exactly how freaky his bestfriend could be.

I do it like it's my profession

I gotta make a confession

I'm proud of all this bass

When you put it in your face

She stood, arching forward, and grabbing her ankles while looking back at Erik. Her ass popped and swayed from side to side.

By the way, if you need a personal trainer or a therapist

I can be a piece of sunshine, inner peace, entertainer

Anything else that you may read between the lines

You and I create rockets and waterfalls

“YES HUNTY!” One of them yelled out while snapping their fingers.

“THATS IT Y/N!”

Erik nods his head in approval. He found himself rocking to the beat while tapping a single foot and grinding his hips in the chair. She rode that song with so much ease. Beyoncé’s voice mixed with her sensual moves had everyone in that room watching in complete silence now. The song played on and then that’s when it became really intense...

I can't help but love the way we make love

Daddy, daddy

Ooh child, ooh now

Yes, Lord, damn baby

She was going crazy. Popping her ass, arching her back, looking at Erik with her mouth hanging open. Swinging her head from side to side, running her hands over her breasts before jiggling them. That continuous Daddy, Daddy, has Erik losing his mind. The self control was unraveling.

You driving me cray, cray, yeah

You ain't right for doing it to me like that daddy

Y/N crawled towards him. She was staring at him like she wanted to rip his clothes off and show some attention to the hard dick that she felt growing in his pants. When she made it over to him, she got into a handstand, her legs widening into a split, before descending back on him, her legs wrapping around his waist while Erik pulled her forward with his hands on her hips.

Even though

I've been a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad girl

Y/N bends her body back while grinding on him so hard and forceful that Erik couldn’t help but to grind up into her on that chair. His hips were lifting from the chair.

Tell me what you're gonna do about that

He wanted to do something right fucking now. Y/N was driving him crazy. His growls and moans were trapped in his throat because of everyone surrounding him.

Punish me please

Daddy what you're going to do with all of this

Ass

Y/N turns around, her ass rubbing along his chest. Erik moves his hands down her back before slapping her ass, causing Y/N to gasp and everyone around them to cheer and clap.

All up in your face, yeah

Hell yeah

Love me so deep

Ooh my shit's so good it ain't even right

This shit wasn’t fair. She bounced on his lap in a continuous rhythm to the freaky beat. Since she wanted to give him a little lap dance to this beat she was definitely going to fuck him to this song. Bestie or not.

I know I'm right

Hell yeah you the shit

That's why you're my equivalent

So sexy

To Erik’s disappointment, Y/N got up from his lap, circling him in the chair before standing behind him. She lowered her arms over his shoulders from behind, taking her fingers to drag his muscle tee up to reveal his chiseled body. Abs flexed, skin so smooth even with the raised scars, her nails clawing lightly at his ripped abs all the way up to his chest. Her lips lightly touched the side of neck, giving him a lick there while the song faded out. The room erupted with applause at her routine. Y/N wrapped her arms around Erik’s neck, rocking him back and forth with a big smile on her face. Erik grabs her arms, holding them with a grin on his lips. Y/N did her thing.

“Girllllllllllll,” Dominique shouted while coming over to hug Y/N, “You had your bestfriend ready to hop off this chair and handle you, girl.”

“Oh? Really?” Y/N spoke into Erik’s ear before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, “I’m sorry I put this ass on you and you couldn’t do anything about it.”

Erik clenched his jaw. She only fueled him more.

“Nothing to say? Hmm?” She dragged on.

Erik looked up at her with a tilt of his head. She knew those hard domineering eyes meant one thing and one thing only: she was going to get it for sure. He had something for her after this class.

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #erik killmonger

585 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 5 years ago

Text

A Legacy Begun (2)

Chapter 2: The Wedding | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Prompted by Anon: Hiya! Still taking any requests? If so, can you write something about Cal and JediReader finally settle down and have a kid or something.

A/N: Alexa play A Thousand Years by Christina Perri & Steve Kazee ;;;///w///;;;

Also posted in AO3

Additional prompt: My fic idea

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3 | Masterlist

2 of ?

Two days before the big day, Merrin woke up early—perhaps the earliest you’ve seen her up—and she told you to wash up and get dressed. She dragged you along to the town that sat on the valley, a trek away from where the Mantis sat in a forest clearing.

It is clear that she was excited for you and Cal, and wanted to be of help to you in time for your celebration.

“Have you ever attended a wedding, Merrin?”

“I can’t say I have, but that’s what makes me excited—I get to see one for the first time, and it’s yours, no less!”

Her enthusiasm was new to you, normally, when she’s curious about something—beyond the knowledge that she has from living in Dathomir—she would only inquire, question after question until her mind has been sated. But this display of hers was unique—there was a child-like glee in her as she tugged your hand in hers, leading you into the town with the objective of the perfect dress.

“Don’t the Nightsisters and Nightbrothers in Dathomir have a sort of union?”

“We’re not a celebratory kind, [y/n]. Once a Nightsister finds her mate in the Nightbrother village, that is that, apparently,”

“I see,”

The city, known as Reema, was a sizable settlement whose business districts and residential areas mingled together—as well as the peoples that resided there. It was a town abundant in textiles, exotic foods, as well as a sturdy, construction material whose raw state originates from a bluish-green mineral called Zakora found in the planet’s oceans and deeper reefs—giving the citizens’ homes a decorative, mosaic-like effect.

You made it clear that you want everything to be simple yet perfect. Merrin already understood that you were not one for grandeur. There was one street in the business district that had a whole row of stores that sold fabrics and pre-made clothes. Some of the shops had a dress or two displayed behind their glass window; but you two girls skipped most of them since they didn’t fit your taste or they priced the clothes unreasonably… or both.

“I think we’ve swept the entire street in search of your dress, [y/n],”

“It’s okay, there’s no need to rush. We can take a break if you like, Merrin,”

“Of course,” the Nightsister’s eyes trailed over your shoulder. “There’s some shade over there.”

“Perfect! Come on,” you take her hand and bring her along to the bench underneath a tree.

After taking a breather, you and Merrin agreed to have one last sweep before heading home. Hopefully by then, you would have found what to wear before heading back to the Mantis. The two girls walked together through the street, passing by the same shops but stopping to look at the ones you’ve skipped.

Merrin gave a slight tug of your hand when she stopped to see a dress hop that stood out from the rest.

“This looks promising,” the Nightsister commented.

“Come on, no harm in trying,” you added.

Perhaps, it might be the smallest atelier you’ve seen in this street. The person who greeted you was a young woman, you’re under the impression that she was an apprentice seamstress, but upon examining the studio, you realize that she worked alone.

She was startled by the sound of her door chimes ringing upon your entrance, she fumbled about on her work desk and she stomped through piles of fabric that pelted the floor.

“H-Hello,” she stammered shyly, embarrassed by the mess. It seemed that she wasn’t expecting any visitors.

“Hi there,” you warmly greeted.

Merrin looked around the place, “Do you work alone?”

“Yes, m-my name is Milana,”

“Hello, Milana, is it alright with you if we take a look around your shop?”

“Please, by all means, miss,”

You flashed a friendly smile as you thanked her, she managed to repay the gesture and awkwardly leaned against the edge of her worktable. She constantly fiddled with a strip of cut fabric, anxiously watching these two ladies who just entered her shop. The young girl’s head was racked with questions that she answered herself in her mind.

“For what occasion, may I ask?”

“A wedding,” Merrin answered, then bobbed her head to you. “For her.”

The young lady’s eyes lit up, suddenly enthused, and she tried to break out of her awkward demeanor.

“Oh! I have a section specifically for that,” she chirped. “Please, follow me here.”

Her studio had another room, neater and less cluttered than the main space, two racks hugged the walls and another work desk sat by the window of the room—but a dress on the works occupied the table instead of drawings and sketches. She helped you out in deciding the designs by asking you what kind of style you wanted.

“Just something simple, Milana, please. I don’t want to go through puffy skirts and wide sleeves anymore!” you joked.

The young designer had an array of dresses that nearly fitted your taste—pertaining to your preference of straight skirts, slim sleeves, and minimalist designs.

Eventually, after scouring every dress she has out in the racks, Milana spotted you pulling out a particular white dress—its transparent neckline gave the illusion that white leaves, sown and expertly shaped with beads, crawled up to a lady’s bosom, though it lacked sleeves; and the skirt is made out of billowy tulle. You instantly fell in love with it.

“May I?” you smiled.

“Oh, of course, miss!”

Merrin helped you in fastening the back of the dress, minutes later, you come out of the fitting room—which was only a nook covered by drapes—and the two girls gasped upon your appearance. You walked up to the front of the mirror, turning around to get a look of yourself in different angles, you even attempted to do a little twirl so the skirt flared.

“Aww [y/n],” Merrin fawned.

“This is it!” you giggled.

“It’s perfect, Miss [y/n]! Simply immaculate!”

When you announced in the studio room that you’re taking it, the young designer ran towards a closet that sat beside the mirror. She pulled out one of the drawers and produced a small box.

“Originally, when I made that dress, it had to go with this,” she flipped the lid open, revealing a silver headpiece. The designer explains that it should be worn on the back of the head and no particular hairstyle is required for it to be securely worn on the bride’s hair.

While Milana explained, Merrin already knew what to do with your hair on the wedding day. Milana also provided a selection of shoes for you, admitting that you were used to boots for most of your life, you decided to play it safe and chose the cream-colored heels that were only two inches high.

You couldn’t thank the young designer enough, you insisted paying a little extra for her help and she had no other choice but to accept—although she did it with great gratitude and bade well wishes to you for your wedding.

—–

Today’s the day.

You wake up with a rapid heartbeat and clammy palms.

The wedding happens in the afternoon, Cal had found the perfect spot where the ceremony will be held. It was customary that bride and groom don’t meet on the day itself, thus, both of you slept in separate rooms—you slept in the same bunker as Merrin and Cere last night while Cal remained in the original quarters.

For the rest of the day, Merrin and Cere delivered food and drink to you and would allow you to go around the ship—granted that Cal was absent in the Mantis—and this went on until three hours prior to the ceremony.

“How are you feeling, [y/n]?” Cere asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“Nervous,” you awkwardly chuckled.

Cal had already got himself cleaned, his red hair slicked back while his growing stubble remained undisturbed, and donned his crisp black ensemble piece by piece: starting off with a long-sleeved tunic over a short, black leather vest, and finishing it off with black pants and boots.

“How do I look, BD?”

“Beee! Trill, chirp!”

“Yeah? Thanks, buddy,” he chuckled. “Well, here goes.”

He marched out of his quarters, passing by the bathroom door and heard the water running, he heard you humming and giggling in between the song. He smiled to himself and imagined what you’d look like when you come marching towards him.

You finished washing yourself, returned to the shared room and Merrin delivered your entire outfit. The Nightsister assisted you once again in fitting the dress, only now did you realize that the dressed emphasized your curves, you put the shoes on while seated and she began working on your hair. Merrin’s slender fingers created an elaborate braid that crowned the back of your head, she secretly used a little bit of her magick to make sultry waves on the remaining length of your hair, and for the finishing touch, the crown of silver leaves nestled above the braid. You also splurged on some makeup for this day: you drew winged lines on your eyelids, painted your lips to a soft pink, and brushed your cheeks with powder and blush.

“There, you’re ready,” Cere cooed, examining you from head to toe and resting her fingers underneath your chin.

Merrin stood by Cere’s side to take a look at you as well, she smiled, triumphant and proud of her masterpiece on the bride.

“You’re so beautiful, [y/n], the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” the Nightsister fawned.

"Thank you so much," you squeaked, grateful of the help you've received from the two ladies.

“We’ll see you there, okay?”

“Okay, Cere,” you breathed.

They embraced you and kissed your cheek one by one before leaving the room. Five minutes later, you finally walk out of the ship. Your bouquet of flowers rested on the lounge table. The entry ramp was left open and you take the deepest breath you’ve ever taken in your life.

“Here it goes, [y/n],”

You take the first step out of the ship, you were so nervous at the moment that you could feel your footing unstable—even though you practiced walking on the ramp with the shoes on for a whole day—but you managed to get to flat ground. You were surprised to find one of the male partisans back in Kashyyyk. It was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. He was to deliver you to the aisle, to your husband-to-be.

“Cere said it was a surprise,” the partisan added.

You gripped your bouquet and continued your march with the partisan guiding you, following the path showered with flower petals of all colors.

Cal stood by the lake, awaiting for your entrance; Merrin, BD-1, Greez, and the rest of the witnesses stood at the side of the path waiting for you as well. When a splash of white caught Cal’s eye, and you appeared in the arch that the trees formed, he almost stopped breathing. His heart leapt at the sight of you—dressed like a demure goddess, the length of your hair spilled over your shoulders, and your face naturally glowed with the sunset as you smiled while walking the aisle.

“Wow…” he gasped.

Cal found you more beautiful than the sunset behind him. Your eyes spanned across the lake’s clearing and found some familiar faces like Mari Kosan and a few partisans you’ve personally befriended. In the gradually shrinking distance, you and Cal traded shy smiles. It felt like your legs were moving on their own, but you didn’t resist them. You knew that you were walking into a newfound life to share with the man you love.

His tears instantly welled up and he had little to no time to fight them back, and then his heart pounded faster and faster for every step you took. You finally stood a mere inch away from him. He bit his lip as he smiled, you caressed his cheek and then a single teardrop escaped his eye.

“Darling…” you whispered, running your thumb across his cheek to wipe away the tear.

He offered you his arm and you linked it with yours. The both of you turned to face Cere who presided the ceremony.

“Here I stand before two individuals, whose bond was forged, grown, and then strengthened by time and by the Force. They have willed to nurture that bond through this ceremony of marriage and for the times to come,”

Cal couldn’t help but steal a glance at you, the gesture was returned when you turned to smile back at him as Cere stated her opening remarks.

“May the words of their vows express their unbreakable connection that run as deep as the Force itself.” She cued.

The bride and groom faced each other.

Cal reached for your hand and you willingly took it as he recited his vows.

“Lo, behold my Maiden, for she will cast away my fears that reside in the Dark. She is my torch that will lead me away from the shadows of doubt, to whom I will forever hold on to. To you, [y/n], my beloved wife, I commend my heart, life, and soul—all this as the Force wills it.”

Next, you reached for his free hand to which he gladly took as you said your vows.

“Lo, behold my Knight, for he will combat the haunts of the Dark. My shield to conceal me from the evils, to whom I will always find shelter in thy arms. To you, Cal, my husband, I commend my life, heart, and my soul—all this as the Force wills it.”

Finally, Cere took a step back and ignited what used to be Trilla’s lightsaber—instead of a bright red beam, a blade as white as bleach emerged from the hilt—and she instructed both of you to kneel.

“By the will of the Force, I dub thee, [y/n] Kestis—wife of Cal Kestis.” She hovered the saber above your shoulders and then concluded her dubbing by hovering the blade over your head.

She then repeats the gesture when it was Cal’s turn, “By the will of the Force, I dub thee, Cal Kestis—husband of [y/n] Kestis. All this as the Force wills it, and so shall it be for your joined days until the end.”

After her oration, you and your husband stood up.

“You may kiss the bride.” Cere declared.

Cal cupped your cheeks, pulled you in for the sweetest, most tender kiss of your life, his stubble tickled your face but you didn’t care; you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him as you smiled in between kisses, and applause and cheers filled the forest. When he pulled away, your new husband snuck another kiss on the tip of your nose, warranting a tiny chuckle from you.

“I love you,” he whispered to you.

“I love you too,”

The wedding was immediately followed by a banquet celebration courtesy of Greez. The Lateron really cooked up a storm when he served the slow-cooked Nerf roast to the table, a Jogan berry cheesecake, and Phillak steaks. Pouring two glasses of wine, the newlyweds linked arms with glasses in their hands.

“Bottoms up!” you and Cal said in unison as you drank the wine from each other’s glasses, chugging down the slightly strong liquor and fighting off the bitter taste.

Your guests laughed and applauded once both of you finished your wine. Evening had washed over Cerinda, the moonlight’s reflection rippled in the lake and fireflies dotted the space like starlight while you and Cal perform your first dance as husband and wife.

“To the newlyweds!” Mari Kosan proposed a toast, raising her glass and everyone followed suit.

They lightly tapped their glasses, urging the two of you to kiss, Cal was the first to cave in. When he spun you in his hand, he pulled you in closer to him so that his lips meet yours once more. Applause filled your ears once again, both of you could feel each other smiling in the middle of the kiss.

Your fingers raked his hair and then your hand trailed to his jaw, the prickly hairs of his stubble brushed roughly against your nails.

“This is the best day of my life,” Cal cooed.

“Here’s to forever?”

“Forever and ever, my wife, until the galaxy ends.”

64 notes · View notes

silverarmedassassin · 5 years ago

Text

What’s Cookin’?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 1072 Warnings: Illusions to sexytime, but not really sexytime because I don’t know how to write smut L O L Summary: You and Bucky try to enjoy a nice romantic Christmas morning when unexpected breakfast plans pop up.

2019 Christmas Masterlist

The first rays of the morning sun are just starting to peek through the curtains when you stir.

Any other day you would have rolled over, snuggled closer into Bucky and try to get at least another hour or two of sleep before your day started. But sleep be damned. It was Christmas morning and you wanted an extra special present before the day’s activities began.

Flipping over onto your side, you’re greeted with one of your favorite views. Bucky was sleeping peacefully, no worry lines creasing his forehead, plush pink lips parted slightly as warm puffs of breath escaped them. Despite the late night of last-minute present wrapping and arranging under the tree, he looked well-rested, and that was a gift in and of itself.

You reach a hand out and softly brush his long chestnut hair behind his ear. He crinkles his nose as a stray strand grazes across his cheek. You giggle quietly and trace your finger over the stretch of scruffy skin that had just been tickled. He relaxes his nose then, and you huff.

“Buck,” you coax, wiggling closer to him. The arm he has splayed over your hip wraps around you a little tighter and pulls you close “Bucky, baby, wake up.”

You giggle as he grunts, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Despite all the years of waking up before the sun to run with Steve, and even before then when he was in the army, Bucky hated mornings. Absolutely despised them. The more sleep he could get, the better he would be.

You, frankly, do not care this morning. You giggle as you run your hand through his tousled tresses, then gently pull to get him to look up at you.

“What time is it?” he moans as he peeks his head out just a little.

Steel-blue eyes are foggy with sleep, but the wrinkles that appear in the corners give away the smile he’s hiding against your skin. As much as he hated being woken up early, he could never be mad when you were the first thing he saw in the morning.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper as you lean it to kiss the tip of his nose. You coax him to pick his head up some more, and you're rewarded with the sight of his pillowy lips.

You can’t resist and ghost your lips across his before deepening the kiss. Mornings usually started slow, with delicate chaste kisses. But you’re feeling rather impatient this morning.

“I was hoping to get a present early,” you mutter against his lips, hands trailing over his bare chest, down to his firm abs. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat before he lets out an almost feral growl.

Without a second thought, he flips you onto your back, elbows coming down on either side of you as he leans above you, caging you in. “I d’know. I’ll have to check to see if you’ve been naughty or nice...” he grins and nips at your bottom lip.

You groan as his hands trace up your body, and you respond by trailing a finger down past his belly button. “That depends. What do I get if I’ve been naughty?”

Lust-blown eyes snap to yours and, before you can register what is happening, Bucky is attacking your face with sloppy kisses. He plants a few open mouth kisses to your lips before traveling down your neck and past your collarbone. Just as he’s about to plant a soft kiss onto your bare chest, you’re both startled by a clattering of dishes.

“What was that?” you ask as Bucky sits straight up, the task at hand completely forgotten. He launches himself from the bed and grabs his sweatpants from where they were hanging on your vanity chair.

“Stay here,” he says as he makes his way towards your bedroom door. You pull your quilt around your body as you watch him silently open your door and disappear into the dark hallway of your apartment.

Even though you know Bucky can hold is own - he’s an ex-Avenger for crying out loud - you can still feel the anxiety bubbling inside you. You’re about to get up when you finally hear his voice from the kitchen.

“Sarah,” he says, a mixture of shock, amusement, and sternness in his voice. “What are you doing?”

You quickly jump out of bed and pull on your robe. You shuffle down the hall as quickly as you can, and are met with the sweetest sight you think you’ve ever seen.

Sarah - your four-year-old daughter who, even though you carried her for nine-months and threw up all your favorite foods, came out looking just like Bucky - is standing on one of your dining chairs she had pushed up against the stove.

Sitting on top of an unlit burner was a pan with two cracked eggs, on the counter a box of pancake mix, a container of strawberries, and, of course, whipped cream.

She looks from her daddy to you sheepishly before turning to look back at the stove. “I wanted to make you brefest,” she says in such an innocent way that you could melt. Her big blue eyes grow even bigger when she looks up at you again, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Baby, why didn’t you come and get me. I would have made you pancakes,” you say walking over to scoop her up.

Sarah shakes her head in defiance. “I wanted to make it for you, mommy. For Christmas!”

You hear Bucky chuckle and you turn to him, a look of absolute adoration on his face. He walks over and envelops you and Sarah and a bear hug and laughs.

“I have an idea. Why don’t we clean this up and we can all make breakfast? Together?” Sarah nods her head and makes grabby hands at Bucky. He takes her in his arms.

“With whipped cream?” she asks practically bouncing in Bucky’s hold.

“With whipped cream. But you gotta promise mommy and me that you’ll never touch the stove by yourself again, okay? It’s nice that you wanted to make us breakfast, but let us worry about that for right now, okay?”

“Okay daddy,” Sarah says as she nestles into Bucky’s neck.

It’s definitely not how you pictured, let alone wanted to start your Christmas morning. But there’s no place you’d rather be than making Santa Claus pancakes with your little family.

56 notes · View notes

uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years ago

Text

Forty-Seven G [Part 1 of 3]

youtube

"U r flying aboard the Seduction 747 And this plane is fully equipped with anything your body desires

If 4 any reason there is a loss in cabin pressure I will automatically drop down 2 apply more

2 activate the flow of excitement Extinguish all clothing materials and pull my body close 2 yours Place my lips over your mouth and kiss, kiss

Normally, in the event there is overexcitement Your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device…"

Prince – "International Lover"

Summary: Erik Killmonger takes a break from M.I.T. to fly to a friend's wedding and gives a flight attendant working on her birthday a lovely gift. Mature Content. Basically, smut y’all. Enjoy.

Fa'aana Brown greeted each passenger on board the Boeing 777 with a practiced charm and a wide smile of her pearly whites. She had stepped in for the lead flight attendant, Lucy, who had to take care of a surly passenger who insisted that his first-class accommodations were not to his liking because he wanted a window seat instead of the aisle seat he had already paid for.

Thankfully their international flight to the Leonardo da Vinci–Fiumicino Airport wasn't crowded. It was the offseason in Rome, so many of the flight attendants would be able to rest on this leg of their trip. Fa'aana would be in charge of the galley in the rear section of the plane, and when she glanced at her watch, she saw they would actually leave the gate relatively early by the looks of the dwindling number of passengers coming down the ramp.

"Whew, problem solved, our Mr. Clayton has been satisfied," Lucy said, tucking a loose strand of her chemically-treated blonde hair behind her ear.

"Did you move him?"

"No, just set him up with some bourbon and cookies. He just wanted to be catered to." "I bet it was that southern accent of yours too."

Lucy smirked.

"A Charleston, South Carolina belle here at your service Mr. Clayton," Lucy said in a breathy voice and batting her false eye-lashes.

"Work it, honey," Fa'aana said handing the speakerphone to Lucy so she could make final announcements before take-off.

"See ya later," Lucy said as Fa'aana made her final cabin check from the mid-section to the back, closing overhead bins and assisting passengers with bags that didn't fit under their seats.

Her temporary work husband Mark, a soft-spoken flight attendant from Spain, was in the galley filling up their snack carts and checking supplies for the ten-hour flight.

"Looks like a cake-walk," Mark said glancing out and peeping the less than full cabin.

Fa'aana checked the pre-heat timer of the convection oven as it waited to be used for the in-flight meal of penne pasta and meatballs.

"Let's hope so. Lucy put out a little fire with a man in first class. Other than that, we are looking good," she said.

Fa'aana did a final check to make sure things were secure before take-off in the galley when she noticed a last-minute passenger making his way toward the back.

Something about his swagger down the left side of the aisle made her know he was American. He was Black and a part of her always got excited when she saw Black people on international flights. So many of her friends back in Atlanta complained about working so hard and not being able to afford overseas travel. Staycations were the theme in her clique, so seeing another Black person going out of the country was exciting for her. It was part of the reason why she became a flight attendant, even though her workload didn't really allow that dream of fun/leisure world travel to come to fruition as much over the past two years. She did her best to encourage others to get out of America. She even wrote a little travel blog that got quite a few hits. She aimed her tips toward single Black women trying to make the globe-trotting lifestyle worth their time and coins.

Round black sunglasses, form-fitting black woven Nike tracksuit, and expensive track kicks. Nice dark mustache, a soul patch, and a light scruffy beard. Fresh cornrows with intricate braid patterns decorated the top of his head, with the sides shaved low. His head bent down to check his ticket and when he found his seat, he opened the overhead bin to toss in a small duffle bag. He pulled a small black computer bag from his back and sat down, tucking the bag under the seat in front of him.

Fa'aana walked down to his seat when she noticed that the straps to his duffle bag were sticking out from under the overhead bin. She opened the bin and tucked in his straps. When she glanced down, his dark lenses were looking up at her and she saw his lips. Up close.

Lord have mercy.

His lips were so lush and full. And his braids smelled so good, fresh coconut oil…

"Thanks, Ma," he said.

"Welcome aboard," she said.

He took off his dark glasses and stared at her chest. She was about to feel offended but then he glanced back up at her face.

"Is that a Polynesian name?" he asked. She realized he was looking at her name tag.

He had a regional accent she was trying to place.

"Yes, it is. Samoan."

"You Samoan?"

"My father is half. Other half Black. Mother Black too."

She thought she looked obviously Black. She was darker than he was by a shade and her hair texture was thick like her Mama's and shrunk up tight when she washed it. Her shoulder-length curls were slicked up with aloe gel and knotted on top of her head for work. He nodded staring at her face. His eyes were kind of intense. She felt like he was studying her.

He tried pronouncing her name and she laughed. So did the passenger sitting at the window seat. The middle seat was empty.

"I sound like a dolphin saying it, huh?" His smile revealed dimples in his cheeks.

Her fingers went to her lips to keep herself from laughing at him again.

"How do you say it?" he asked.

"We pronounce all the vowels like this…"

She said it for him and his eyes watched her lips. She felt her stomach flutter and she was beginning to feel warm.

"Pretty," he said, "Fuh-ah-nuh…"

"Close enough," she said as he tried several passes to catch the right way.

In her periphery, she saw Mark waving to her from the back.

"Enjoy your flight," she said heading toward the galley once again.

Mark pulled her to the side.

"Is he famous?" he asked.

"What?"

"Is he a singer? Rapper? Actor?"

"I don't know—"

"He has that look. He carries himself like a celebrity. Dark glasses and all…"

"Lots of people wear dark glasses on long flights, Mark. Red eyes from being tired."

Mavis, an older Black flight attendant who could run circles around the entire crew burst into the back carrying a small plastic bag of trash.

"Ooh, y'all see that cutie in forty-seven G?" she said putting the trash away.

"Does he look like someone famous?" Mark asked.

Mavis patted her short cut wig and looked at them both.

"Not really, but man, he got it going on. Body all tight…lips all—"

"Okay, okay, let's focus on the job at hand you guys," Fa'aana said.

The pre-flight video played on every individual passenger screen and Fa'aana was happy to feel the plane backing away from the gate. Once they had reached cruising altitude, she could start the drink and snack cart run and then relax for a bit before the dinner run.

Buckled up into her galley seat she could see down the aisle and saw the arm of the man in forty-seven G lying on the outer armrest.

A young white woman sitting across from him in the middle row was talking to him with animated energy, and he was holding an earbud in his hand while listening to her. The woman leaned across her armrest and Forty-Seven G stuck his earbud back in and turned away from her. The woman looked shocked and eased back into her seat.

Fa'aana chuckled wondering what transpired to make him ignore the woman so abruptly.

She thought of him trying to say her name. Most people would slaughter it and then try to pronounce it the way they wanted to say it, making it easy for them. Or, they just nicknamed her "Ana". But as her Daddy used to tell her, if people can pronounce fucking Schwarzenegger or Tchaikovsky, they could pronounce her name correctly too. And Mr. Forty-Seven G did his best to get it right. God bless him.

Cruising Altitude.

She unfastened her seat in the galley and began the careful push of the metal snack/drink cart down the aisle. Mark worked the left side of the plane and part of the middle and she worked the right and the other half of the middle. Most of the passengers wanted the free wine and peanuts, and because their section wasn't completely full, they were moving right along.

When Fa'aana made it to forty-seven F, she was able to see the tight-lipped white woman who tried to holler at forty-seven G. The woman looked to be in her early twenties with overly caked make-up, and hair teased to look like a wavy cascade of light brown curls.

"Cookies, peanuts?" Fa'aana asked giving the woman a pleasant look.

"Peanuts, and can I have a white wine?"

Fa'aana handed the woman two bags of salted peanuts and poured wine into a plastic white cup.

When she turned toward forty-seven G, she asked the window seat passenger what he wanted first and the older white man sitting there dismissed her with a smile and a wave of his hand. He was focused on his movie.

"And you?" she said.

"Kentucky Straight on the rocks," he said holding his earbud from his left ear.

She smirked.

"What?" he said smiling at her flashing those dimples again.

"Nothing. I'll have to get that from the back, so give me a minute to finish and I'll bring it right back. Snack?"

His eyes felt like they raked across her whole body even though they just stayed glued to her face. She felt a shiver ghost her neck as she glanced at his lips again.

"Lemme get summa them cookies."

She reached into her cart and pulled out two packages of cinnamon cookies and handed it to him with a couple of napkins. His fingers brushed against hers and then he let down his service tray in front of him.

"Where are you from?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Oakland," he said.

"I was trying to place your accent." "Erik," he said holding out his hand. She shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Erik. Be right back."

She moved down the aisle and completed her run, and as she moved back to the galley, she had the sensation that he was watching her. She didn't look behind her.

She checked the liquor cabinet and pulled out the whiskey he wanted. She poured him an extra serving over the ice and tried to figure out why she was feeling a certain way about this dude. He looked young, but his demeanor seemed older to her. In seven hours, she would be turning twenty-six years old. She planned on celebrating when she returned to Atlanta. She felt like she looked her age, but forty-seven G…no Erik, his name was Erik,…he could be early twenties or maybe younger.

She wasn't into younger dudes. She also wasn't really into guys her own age because they were so un-focused to her. She liked older men, at least six to seven years older. In fact, a nice thirty-year-old city planner was waiting to take her out for her birthday when she returned home from the Italy turn-around.

She walked carefully back to Erik's seat and handed him his drink with more napkins.

He took a sip right away.

"Hmmm, not bad. Thank you, Fa'aana," he said.

Whew, chile. She felt her clit thump when he said her name the right way in a seductive tone. It shocked her and she just stood there feeling like he knew what happened inside her panties.

"Enjoy," she said scurrying away from him.

What the hell?

She stood in the back of the galley and wiped her forehead.

"You alright?" Mark asked turning on the convection oven.

"Yes. Just feeling a little warm."

"Really, it's a bit chilly out there. I passed out a few extra blankets."

"It's just me."

"You're not getting sick are you?"

"No."

"Drink plenty of water."

"I will."

The dinner run was smooth and when she served Erik his in-flight meal, he was gracious but focused on a movie he was watching. Clean-up was a breeze and once several rounds of free wine went out along with some black coffee, passengers began to batten down the hatches for sleep. Lights were lowered and Fa'aana snacked a bit before snagging a row of seats to herself in the last middle back row. She sat on the right aisle side so she could keep an eye on the floor. Mark stayed watch hidden in the galley seat and Mavis took no shame finding a row for herself on the far-left side a few rows up from Fa'aana.

Killing time, she started playing a trivia game on the video screen. She was kicking ass playing with seven other passengers. Passenger forty-seven G was hanging neck and neck with her.

Wait. That was Erik.

She stuck her head out and leaned over to look up his way and she could see him pressing buttons on his screen fast. He turned his head to look back, and she ducked back in her seat so he couldn't see her.

After thirty minutes when she won three games out of five, she switched over to a card game of solitaire.

"Nah, go back to the trivia screen."

She was startled to see Erik standing next to her row.

"I was wondering who was sitting back here in fifty-seven F messing up my scores," he said, a sly smile on his lips.

"Busted," she said.

"You're good."

"I've been known to keep a ton of useless trivia in my head. It just comes out in my favor on here."

His eyes were relaxed and he seemed to hold his liquor well after two glasses of wine after his dinner.

"You mind if I sit back here with you and play another round? I want to see if you're cheating or not."

"Cheating? Brain power, Sir."

"Alright, Ma. Let's see then. Scoot over."

She thought about it for a moment.

"You still on the clock?" he asked.

"Yes—"

"Most people are sleep. Just a quick game. Your boss comes through I'll say you were helping me with my screen."

It was tempting.

"One quick game," she said scooting her petite frame over in order to allow his much taller and well-built one to squeeze in next to her.

They both went to the trivia game screen. There was only one other person playing with them.

"Oh, so that's how you pick your answers so fast, you keep your finger on the screen the whole time," he said.

He followed suit, and soon they were matching scores. He beat her for two rounds, but she cleaned up on the last one.

"You want another drink or anything?" she asked.

"Another whiskey would be nice, thanks," he said.

She stood up and scooted past him, straightening her skirt when she reached the aisle. He watched her hand smooth the back. She had a little booty that poked out a bit, but she didn't think it was that obvious, but the way he was looking at her made her self-aware.

She stepped into the galley and poured him another big drink. Mark was asleep. She had to keep her eyes open just in case a passenger needed anything.

"Here," she said handing him the drink along with another packet of cookies.

"Look at you taking care of me," he said winking at her.

It felt odd to be sitting next to him while he drank.

He must've read her mind.

"Here, have a sip," he said handing his cup to her.

"Umm…"

"You can use the straw, I didn't. I'm healthy as hell, just so you know," he said.

"That would not be a good look for me while I'm working. Plus, that drink is really strong."

"It is. You hooked me up though. Not even one sip?"

His eyes had a puppy dog look to them and he tilted his head staring at her.

What could it hurt? It would be her birthday soon enough.

She took his cup and had a tiny sip.

"Stop playing, girl," he said.

His voice sounded raspy. His scruffy beard and mustache really started to look sexy to her. She normally liked men to have neat facial hair, but Erik's looked free and easy- Black hipster chic. She wanted to rub her cheek against it…

Her face felt warm again and she took a bigger sip of his drink.

"There you go. Good, huh?"

The heat hit her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut and gasped. He laughed.

"Amateur," he teased. She started coughing and he reached over and rubbed her back, "My bad, you okay, Ma?"

She held a hand up to her chest and he kept rubbing his hand up and down her back until he was touching her neck.

"You can finish that all by yourself," she said.

He removed his hand from her neck and sipped down his drink.

They talked for a bit and she found herself warming up to him. He was easy to talk to. He was going to a friend's wedding in Rome and would be flying back to Massachusetts afterward. He was in his second year of grad school at M.I.T. and damn it to hell, he was only twenty-one.

"Don't think I'm rude for thinking this…I know you're part Samoan, but they some big ass people. But you, you're so petite—"

"I'm supposed to be buff like Dwayne Johnson or something?" she said rolling her eyes.

"I mean, I've met a lot of Polynesian folks in Cali, and they ain't tiny like you—"

"Tiny?"

"Petite, petite! Short?"

She gave him side eye. And then took his cup of whiskey and took another big sip.

"I'm five foot four."

"I'm six one. You little."

"Pfftt."

She eyed him a bit.

"You want to hear a terrible joke?" she asked feeling a bit loose with him.

"Go 'head."

"I hope you're not easily offended."

"I'm not."

"What do get when you mix Samoans with…."

She trailed off.

"What?"

"Does the N-word bother you?"

"Nah, I use it from time to time. Not in mixed white company usually. But we good."

"Okay. Because if I try to tell this another way, it won't come out right."

"Tell it straight."

"Okay, what do you get when you mix Samoans with….okay why are you looking at me like that?" she said and started laughing.

He had his index finger up against his face like he was judging her. He laughed with her.

"Tell your joke, girl. C'mon…"

"What—"

She started snorting and laughing, the whiskey hitting her and making her goofy.

"Forget it," he said smiling at her and taking his cup from her hand, "You can't handle this Miss Lightweight."

He started up another trivia game and she leaned in toward him.

"What do you get when you mix Samoans and niggas?"

"What?" His eyes had a twinkle in them.

"Some more niggas."

"Your parents hear you tell that joke?"

"My Mama was the one who told my Daddy."

"I'm offended."

His eyes became real serious looking. She stopped laughing.

"I'm sorry. That was unprofessional-"

He burst out laughing.

"I'm just fuckin' witchu!"

"Oh my God. I thought you were really upset."

"You had the look of unemployment on your face!"

They both cracked up.

"You're really pretty when you laugh. Your whole body gets into it."

"Thanks—"

"But that snortin' has got to go!"

"Shut up!" She slapped his shoulder and found herself intrigued by him. He was twenty-one, totally not her age bracket at all, but somehow, he acted…grown? Mature? Acted like someone she could be interested in?

"I was going to watch this foreign flick. Would you like to watch it with me?" he asked.

"Let me go do a quick round first?" she asked. He nodded and finished off his whiskey.

She went to the lavatory to relieve herself of the liquor and then she checked in with Mark who was still snoozing in the galley. Several rows from their seats were empty or only had one occupant, and most were asleep. Nice.

She returned to their row. Erik's hand reached up and turned on one of the reading lights above him.

"This will help keep you awake in case someone calls for you," he said.

He pulled out one of the free earphones that they passed out to passengers earlier.

"We can share this. One ear for the movie, the other free to hear a call for whatever."

"You think of everything," she said.

He was so easy.

A complete stranger, but in less than four hours they had shared a drink together, a crude joke, and now she was kicking off her work heels and curling up on a seat to watch a Korean gangster drama.

The movie was fucking intense.

Even though it was edited for public consumption, Fa'aana found it to be filled with graphic violence and so much…sex. Implied sex really. She was glad they were in the last back rows alone; she would feel embarrassed if other people saw what was on the screen.

Erik took up a lot of space in the middle seat.

"You mind if I lift this up?" he asked.

She looked down at his hand. He wanted to pull up the middle armrest.

"Go ahead," she said without thinking, and he lifted it up opening up the only barrier between them. He stretched his legs and widened his thighs. His right thigh brushed against hers.

"Sorry," he said.

"S'okay," she answered.

She glanced at her watch.

"W'sup?" he asked. "Huh?"

"You keep looking at your watch. You gotta be somewhere?"

"Funny. Um, my birthday is about to drop in…oh, snap, my birthday is here already."

"For real? You're working on your birthday?"

"I'll celebrate it when I get back to Atlanta. I have a birthday dinner date at a fancy restaurant."

"With your boyfriend?"

Erik's eyes looked playful.

"Sort of-"

"Sort of?"

He smiled at her.

"We've been dating for a minute."

"Is he your man though?"

Her lips got tight. No, Hugh was not her man. She was hoping he would be, but thus far they just ate out for meals and had sex at her apartment when she was in town.

Erik's eyes grew soft-looking.

"Happy Birthday, Fa'aana.., hold up—"

He reached into his left pocket.

"I couldn't finish this at dinner, but it can come in handy now."

It was a Godiva chocolate brownie still wrapped inside the plastic. The dinner dessert.

"Hold on," he said.

He pulled out some pocket wetnaps, opened them and cleaned his hands. A rich lemony smell filled her nostrils. Unwrapping the brownie, he placed it on one of the drink napkins she gave him.

"I don't have a candle, but you can pretend to blow one out," he said.

"That's really sweet, Erik."

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you…."

He sang quietly to her and when he finished, he held the brownie up to her mouth. She puckered up her lips and pretended to blow out a candle. When she did, he turned off the overhead reading light.

She could still see him in the glow of their video screens. She took a bite of the brownie and he took a piece too. He broke the remainder in half and fed her a piece then popped the rest in his mouth. She felt a few crumbs tumble from her lips and he reached over and wiped the rest away.

His thumb touched her bottom lip and she felt a tingle from his touch. He traced her lips with the tip of his thumb and she felt her jaw go lax, her mouth parting. Erik inserted part of his thumb in her mouth and she wrapped her lips around it, her tongue licking him. She heard him groan and he pulled her face toward him removing his thumb from between her lips.

"Can I kiss you, Fa'aana?"

"Please," she panted.

No armrest between them he pulled her in tight and his juicy lips took hers. When his tongue licked the seam of her lips, she opened up to him and took him in her mouth.

What are you doing?

She was on the job. She was supposed to be on post waiting to serve passengers who may wake up and want water, or coffee. Here she was with this fine young thing making out like she was trying to be a mile-high club patron.

Her hands went up to touch his hair and his left hand rested on her thigh inching its way up her uniform skirt…

"Hey, wait," she said breaking away from him. She rubbed her cheeks against his facial hair.

She heard a rumble in his chest and an irritated groan escape his lips.

"Too fast?" he asked staring at her eyes with a dreamy look on his sexy ass face.

"Let's just watch the movie."

"You sure?" he said, licking his lips and staring at her.

"That would be best. Safe."

"Okay, Birthday Girl."

He sat back in his seat and he rewound the movie to the last part they watched. Of course, it was a sex scene. A long one too. They stuck the earbuds on.

She folded her arms across her waist.

"You cold?" he asked.

He handed her one of the flimsy blankets and turned down the air above them. She spread the blanket over her legs.

"Lay on me if you want. I stay hot," he said.

She gave him a smirk.

"No, for real. My ex said I'm like a furnace sometimes," he said.

She allowed her left arm and leg to lean against him, and goodness, he was really warm. A nice cozy warm.

They continued watching the movie, and in the scene, a beautiful woman beckoned to her lover, a gangster she had betrayed throughout the movie, and they were lying in bed having passionate sex. The man was squirming in the scene like he was having convulsions.

"Shit that good, homie?" Erik said.

She giggled.

"He actin' like that thang yanks," he said.

"Oh my God, Erik—"

"What? Look at him. Damn…let me find pussy that good."

She found the crude talk exciting. She pressed into his arm a little more.

"You comfortable?" he asked looking down at her.

He lifted his arm and put it around her shoulder. She wanted to curl up and fall asleep on him. He smelled so good, a mixture of coconut oil and some subtle scent like a smoky clove scent. She rested her head against his chest and shifted the earplug to her other ear.

The movie turned into a chase scene and actually kept them both riveted despite having to read the subtitles. It was hard to concentrate because Erik was rubbing on her arm.

There was movement a few rows up and Erik removed his arm from her and she felt a grimace paint her face. God forbid a passenger would want her to work right now. She felt wrong for thinking that because of course she was on the clock, but it felt so nice…so right lying up against him.

She stuck her head out to look for anyone needing assistance, but it was just a passenger about five rows up shifting in their sleep. She opted to stay alert and not lay on Erik. She pressed up into her seat but kept her thigh next to Erik's. He rested his arm and hand on his thigh and part of hers. When she didn't move away from his touch, his hand crept over and rested totally on her thigh. Her breathing became a little heavier even though his hand was on top of the blanket.

"Here comes ole girl again…oh snap. Now she's with the head dude? Nah, she's triflin'…" he said.

She could only focus on Erik's warm hand stroking her thigh in small movements.

"This woman is putting it on these niggas and yoking them up," he said. He started chuckling. His eyes glanced over at her. "Damn, Ma."

"What?" she whispered.

His eyes trapped hers in his.

"You look sexy as hell right now. This movie got you excited?"

She shook her head.

"What got you lookin' like that?"

He already knew it was him. She could tell. He was toying with her. His touch hypnotizing her body. He pulled his earplug from his ear and hers.

"Let me give you a little Birthday present," he said.

"What kind of present?"

"Take your stockings off."

"Why?"

"You know why."

She hesitated. They had reached the point of no return.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. We can still just chill, or I can go back to my seat…"

She didn't want that.

Shit. Why not? It was her birthday. She would never see this man again. Enjoy him. Take whatever he wanted to give. She reached between her legs and pulled down her stockings and shimmied out of them. She balled them up and stuck them inside the pocket of the seat in front of her.

"You have to keep quiet," he said lifting up the blanket and placing part of it over his lap, "Pull your skirt up."

She gave thanks and praise that she had shaved her legs and trimmed up her chocha before she came to work. She wiggled a bit under the blanket fixing her skirt for him. Her eyes fell to his right hand and his thick fingers. The veins in his hand were up and she felt a whimper leave her parted lips.

His hand moved under the blanket and she felt the heat from his skin as his fingers found her damp panties.

"Damn, you're wet already. You been waiting for this, huh?" he whispered. He slid her panties to the side and her vulva slickened his fingers. She could hear his breathing become heavy. Three of his fingers pressed into her mound, easily finding her swollen clit and gifting it with tight slow circles. She widened her legs for him.

"Look at you being a wet slut for me," he said.

She slammed her right hand into her mouth to help herself keep quiet.

"Don't let your boss hear you," he said.

She could hear him panting.

"Can I play in your pussy?" he asked.

"Yes."

He moved his hand from under the blanket and lifted her up easily, placing her sideways on his lap.

"Hold your legs open," he said.

His left arm supported her back and she without a shameless bone in her body let her knees bend and her legs spread for him.

He dragged his fingers up and down her dripping slit, her panties twisted to the side.

"I bet you got a tight pussy," he hummed into her ear.

She whimpered and squirmed a bit in his lap.

"Shhh, be quiet, take these fingers," he said.

She felt him at her entrance, spreading her folds wide open, and then the sudden pressure of three fingers sinking into her slowly.

"Tight as fuck…damn," he gasped keeping his voice low and close to her ear.

She could feel the hard bulge of his erection under her ass, but she could barely focus on that when her walls were being tapped by his thick digits with expert precision. He pulled his fingers out and licked them, then placed them back inside of her.

"You a tasty bitch—"

"Fuck—" she hissed trying to swallow the word. Jesus, what if Mark or Mavis came looking for her? And God forbid one of the other passengers woke up and walked to the rear lavatories to take a piss.

His fingers found her swollen clit again and the mewling coming from her made him rotate his hips so that she could feel the girth of his shaft. He was a big boy for sure. He reached over into the seat and picked up the blanket that was once on her lap. He balled up a small part of it and shoved it in her mouth. She bit onto it as he slipped his fingers back inside of her, the in and out movement simulating a righteous birthday fucking.

"Shit, Ma. I wish I had a condom with me right now. I'd fuck you outta this plane."

She was breathing in hard through her nose and exhaling into the cloth shoved in her mouth. The sound of his fingers working her pussy was loud and obscene to her ears. People had to be able to hear all the squelching noises his fingers were causing her sopping folds to make. Her face felt tight and her eyes were rolling back. How could this be happening? A fine man walks onto a plane and hours later he's fingering her like he loves her?

Most men she had been with took a while to know her body well enough to make her pussy fall apart like that. Erik made her pussy jump the moment he said her name right, and now he had her ready to follow him anywhere. If this is what his fingers could do, what the fuck could his tongue and dick do to her?

Goddamn, he was hitting her clit with his fingers.

"My big dick would fuck this pussy up. Your boyfriend in Atlanta wouldn't be able to feel your pussy when I was done with it," he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut. He was slapping her vulva now and pinching her labia. She arched her back and it was like he could read her mind again. He spit on his fingers and rubbed them around her clit once more, pressing down as he rubbed so that he was covering part of her mound. His timing was impeccable because she came hard and fast and he watched her face as she did.

"Happy Birthday, Baby," he said as she collapsed on his lap, sweaty, wet between the legs, and feeling beyond satisfied.

[Part 2] [Part 3]

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading/sharing/spending your time here.

Be sure to check out “Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Vol 1 & 2. Book series details Erik’s Mom & Daddy N’Jobu meeting, hooking up, fucking (a lot), having Erik, raising his lil ass in Oakland, and creating the man you see in this story and others you can find HERE.

#erik killmonger #eriklives #erikkillmonger #black panther #njadaka #n'jadaka #blackpantherfanfic #black panther fanfiction #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger oc #oc #erik #erik killmonger smut #erikkillmongersmut #erik stevens smut #erikstevenssmut

314 notes · View notes

h-eckers · 7 years ago

Text

Shed Your Skin

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

A/N: I am shamelessly in love with this story line, even though the writing may not be perfect and I’m really nervous about it. There is a part 2 already posted. This was always designed specifically to be multi-part, I’ll explain that more in the note on part 2. No spoilers.

P. S. This isn’t a Bughead fic by any means so I didn’t tag it as such (I’m sorry, guys), but the pairing is included in part

Summary: Being a newly inducted Serpent comes with unforseen benefits for Riverdale’s most poetic soul, like cool jackets and … personal bodyguards???

Word Count: 3,226

Warnings: gang activity, swearing, drug mentions, (Bughead angst, if that counts as a warning.)

Serpent sympathizers.

That’s what the Southside called them, and it applied to those in the area who weren’t Serpents themselves. These were the people who had no problem inhabiting the same space as a notorious gang, some had ties or dealings to members, others simply chose to approve because it did nothing to bother them. What turned out to be an unexpected blessing to Riverdale’s resident writer, was the family he was placed with on the Southside were exactly that, a family who openly referred to themselves as “friends of the Serpents.” When Jughead had confessed his connection to the gang, mentioning his father’s home left empty, the family under whose care he stayed simply allowed him to do what he pleased as long as he kept them out of it. In mere moments he had gained a freedom he was unused to, and yet one that so deeply comforted him.

This freedom is precisely what led Jughead to be sitting on the couch in his father’s currently abandoned home, aimlessly flicking through channels to find a suitable background noise for his writing. After all, there was much to update in his book, many a mystery solved and waiting to be immortalized with words against a page. The night was cold, but the sanctity of familiar walls, and the old heater in the corner, coated with dust, provided a gentle and welcoming warmth as well as an obvious fire hazard. The light from the kitchen twisted and stretched itself, struggling to illuminate much past the room it was in, only lending a soft and muted glow to the living room where the young writer had found comfort, lost in his own words, alone in his home for the first time in years that felt like centuries. For a moment, he felt peace.

The problem with the current state of Riverdale, however, meant that peace was short lived, and Jughead’s serenity was destroyed with a loud and repetitive banging on the front door in place of a polite knock. He stopped for a moment, contemplating whether he should answer it or leave it and let them believe there was no one here, he decided on the later. Even from their aggression towards his front door he could tell it wasn’t a person he’d enjoy speaking to and right now, he was comfortable in being alone. So he didn’t move from where he was, letting the demanding pounding on his front door die down, hoping to fade back into contentment, but again his wish for that was completely shattered when he heard the unmistakable sound of a key being put into the lock. Standing quickly, he turned to the door expecting the only person he could think of who would have keys apart from himself, when his eyes met that of the newly arrived body, just through the door, he sighed a heavy sigh.

“Hey, dude.” The unfamiliar girl smiled, shutting the door and shoving her keys back inside the pocket of her dark jeans, “I figured you might be here.”

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Jughead stumbled slightly, still caught up in the shock of the intrusion of a stranger.

“Nah, not yet, but I’m Y/N.” She grinned, holding out her hand for him, Jughead hesitated upon seeing the dirt and grease there. She chuckled, retracting her hand to wipe it against her leg, avoiding the leather on her jacket “Oh, shit, sorry, I was working on the bikes right before I came out here.”

“I’m Jughead…” His voice was strong, and yet carried a clear tone of caution, which one would expect in a situation such as this one, “and why are you here?”

“I know who you are, dude, your daddy talks about you all the time, I’ve seen you around. He actually gave me the keys to this place when I went to see him today… well, he asked the sheriff to give me the keys, same thing though really.” She explained causally, shrugging off the question and wandering into the kitchen as though the home was hers.

“Why?” Jughead asked, already growing impatient with her, perhaps because of her demeanour or maybe it was the fact that she seemed to know more about the situation with his father than he did. She walked over to the sink and started cleaning her hands, scrubbing the grease away with the dish soap left neglected on the counter, his eyes followed her, staring at her back when she turned to the sink, only then did he notice the Serpent embroidery across the back of her jacket, hold against the black and a perfect explanation of how she was acted.

“Us Serpents aren’t exactly the favourites right now, there’s been target attacks on us now and I’m here to house sit for the boss kinda, mainly I’m here because he said you would be.” Y/N shrugged, looking around for a clean dish towel and shuffling through drawers until she found something to dry her hands. “You’re one of us now, right? We look out for our own.”

There was a silence that crept up there, as Jughead’s eyes drifted back to the jacket they’d given him, sling over the back of a chair, on display. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” He admitted absently, his eyes moving back to hers, immediately he saw the worry on her face, as though she was looking at a child lost in a store, with no sense of direction.

“It’s no problem,” she said quickly, noticing the hesitance in him and offering her most gentle smile, “even if you decide you don’t want to be, your daddy’s for you a life time pass to protection.”

He didn’t say anything, there wasn’t much to say. In all honesty, he had no doubt that she could protect him, She was scruffy, not the cleanest but he could only assume that was the fault of working under old bikes before she arrived, and there were tattoos showing from under the cuffs of her jacket even though she looked about his age, but her eyes made her seem older, there was no doubt she had seen things, things that age a person, things that change them. “Look, uhm, I know it’s bit weird but do you mind if I shower real quick?”

“Yeah, yeah, just through there.” He mumbled, pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

“I know.” She smiled again, partially awkwardly but overall it seemed apologetic, she scurried away to get clean.

It was an unsettling feeling, despite everything, Jughead had always been resolute in how he felt. He knew what he wanted without a doubt at any time and yet he sat across the room, staring at the jacket he was gifted, thinking back to his short experience at South side high, and thinking about Betty, and Archie, and all he’d left in Riverdale and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was completely unsure.

The truth was, the Serpents we’re beginning to look better and better as an option for him, they had welcomed him with open arms like no one ever had, despite how different he’d assume himself from them. This girl, though abrasive, seemed kind and open, she hadn’t tried to lie to him, and she’d accepted him readily as though they’d known each other for years, a nicer treatment than he’d received from some of his closest friends in the recent past. It was a battle raging in his head between what seemed right and what felt right, and at the moment the feeling was what he was chasing.

The thoughts he had found himself consumed by all vanished at one with a gentle hand on his shoulder, he looked up at her, fresh faced, wet hair tousled about her cheeks in wild waves, and she was wearing one of his dads old shirts tucked into her jeans. “You alright? I came out like fifteen minutes ago and you’ve just been staring at that jacket.”

“Thinking.” He said with a tight smile, watching as she retracted her hand and pulled on her jacket again, falling onto the couch with a soft ‘oomph’.

“Y'know, you don’t have to make up your mind straight away. It’s okay.” Her smile was genuine, gentle and purposeful, and he believed her entirely.

“You’re not really what I expected, considering you’re a member of a notorious gang.” He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. She raised her eyebrow at his sudden attitude change, but chose not to question it yet for fear of scaring it away.

“What?” She grinned, “Dirty, scruffy, bike mechanic who almost busts down the door before using the key doesn’t work for you?” She mumbled, grabbing a cushion and hugging it to her stomach. There was something endearing about her, she was honest, and for so long living in a town with so many lies, and where everyone seemed to try to be someone they weren’t, it was refreshing to say the least.

“I guess you have a point, but in any case it suits you.” He said, her cheeks burned slightly and she couldn’t help the small smile that decorated her lips for a moment as she tilted her head, never breaking eye contact with him.

“Your dad told me about how charming you were, said we’d get along. Even once said he thought we’d do good for each other.” She hummed softly, and he nodded, “You’ve definitely charmed me, Jug. I hope he was right about the rest of it.”

“I think he could have been.” Jug admitted, and perhaps it was too soon to say such a thing but it wasn’t as though it was a lie.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, when there was a knock at the door again. A normal knock this time as opposed to the vicious barrage against the door the girl in front of him had inflicted not long ago. Jughead looked to her for an answer and she simply shrugged, “We don’t knock like that.” She smirked and he could only laugh as he got up to answer the door.

“Hey, Juggie, you didn’t answer any of my texts. I figured I’d come and check you were okay.” Her voice was already laced with worry, or anger, or possibly a cocktail of the two as she looked up at him. Jughead cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I guess I just got distracted.” He sighed, smiling for her and a small smile is what he got in return, “I am sorry, you know I wouldn’t ignore you intentionally.”

“I know, I was just worried, especially when I called your host parents and they said you weren’t there.” The concern was clear, he felt it in his soul and immediately felt the guilt that came with knowing he’d upset her. “I figured you’d be here.”

“Uh, do you want to come in?” He asked after a moment, things seemed tense, he’d been living on the south Side for just under a week now and he’d seen or spoken to her every single day but the way they interacted had changed. Things seemed stilted when they spoke, their kisses grew more chaste and empty, and he was aware that it was all him. She hadn’t changed but in the space of a few days, he had, in ways he hadn’t even fully realised for himself yet.

“Of course.” She smiled softly, moving carefully past him to wander inside, all of a sudden a fabricated image of Y/N flashed up in his mind, of her shoving past him ungracefully to get inside. For some reason, that made him grin.

Y/N had become entirely absorbed in a late night re-run of Friends, focusing on the show as a way to tune out the conversation she wasn’t a part of, when Betty wandered in and saw her, she stopped, confused. After a moment of being ignored by the freshly showered girl on her boyfriend’s couch, Betty cleared her throat, as politely as possible given the situation. Her attention was pulled away from the screen and towards the blonde in the living room. “Oh, hi!” She said happily, muting the TV to give the newly arrived guest her full attention, Betty wasn’t in the same place. She turned to Jughead.

“Who’s this?” She asked, completely ignoring the girl herself. Y/N didn’t appreciate that.

“My name is Y/N, and I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself.” Her expression and tone didn’t change from that energetic excitement, and yet there was something different, something sarcastic, something threatening slipping out with her words. Betty blinked at her, eyes going wide.

“Sorry,” She stammered slightly, “I’m Betty.” The other girls face lit up again immediately.

“Oh! You wrote that article about us right?” Y/N queried, “Thanks for that, sucks to hear what they did to your locker though, m’sure we’ll get ‘em soon enough though. You don’t have to worry for much longer.” She winked playfully, somehow making the incredibly ominous statement seem light hearted.

“You’re a serpent.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it something Betty appreciated apparently, she turned back to Jughead. “You know you can stay at my house if you need to, Jug.”

“I know, but it’s okay here.” He chuckled, as the blonde rested her hand on his arm, concern written across her face, “Really, everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, I’m just housesitting, body guarding.” Y/N tried to joke, perhaps ease some of the awkwardness she felt, it didn’t work, especially when Betty ignored her.

“Jug…” She said softly, like urging. Pushing him to say something else, to leave with her.

“Betty, every thing’s under control.” He said again, his brow furrowing.

“Okay,” She said tightly, obviously unimpressed with the decision, “well can I at least get that Blue and Gold stuff from you?”

“Of course. It’s in my room.” He mumbled, looking towards Y/N for a second, an indiscernible look in his eyes, trying to convey something Y/N couldn’t decipher, but whatever it was, it was near to worry. He turned his back hesitantly and walked into the next room. Y/N smiled.

“Yeah, so I’m just here to house sit while FP’s otherwise occupi-” She was cut off, Betty’s voice, low and quiet intersecting with her light-hearted attempt to make conversation.

“He’s not one of you. He belongs in Riverdale, with his friends.” Betty dragged out the last word, as though rubbing in some scathing insult like Y/N had been Jughead’s friend for ten years and not ten minutes. Y/N’s expression dropped slightly, not into anger but into a certain smugness, a serpentine smirk painting her soft lips.

“I think that’s for him to decide, don’t you?” She asked, that threat in her voice simultaneously drawing Betty to respond and urging her to run.

“He has decided.” She said, her strength of composure never wavering externally, though inside her heart quaked with an uncertainness. Y/N stepped forward menacingly, only an inch taller than the other girl and yet towering above her head.

“Maybe he has, but I don’t know if it’s what you think.” Y/N hummed, her tone close to sultry though it was only meant to scare the blonde girl before her, and it did, oh it did. “After all, you may have written a cute little article for his daddy, but I’ve been riding with FP since I was knee high. You could write a full trilogy and id still win by miles, sweetness.” She spat, her words dripping with venom that only a serpent could produce.

“That doesn’t matter,” Betty swallowed, a darkness coming into her eyes that made Y/N grin as the other’ hands clenched, nails to palm in violent collision, “you don’t get to win that easily. FP and Jughead are different people.”

“True,” Y/N shrugged, stepping back, “but who says they can’t grow to be closer. Bond over a pool table at the Whyte Wyrm?”

“Jughead would never. That’s not who he is.” Betty practically growled, only eliciting a chuckle from the other girl who simply fell back onto the couch, staring Betty down with narrowed eyes.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that snakes shed their old skin, princess?” She smiled. Betty opened her mouth to speak, interrupted only seconds before implosion by Jughead re-entering the room. The tension hit him like a truck, and he saw his girlfriend clutching her own hands, glaring at the other girl on his couch who had gone back to watching the TV as though nothing had transpired.

“Is everything okay?” HE asked, hesitant as to the response, Y/N didn’t respond, Betty turned to him with eyes aflame.

“I need to talk to you,” She growled softly, “alone.”

Jughead followed her outside. Y/N stayed put and listened, muting the TV again and sitting back on the couch to listen to the blondes hysterics, smirking to herself at Betty’s colourful description of her, terrible words falling from her innocent lips in vitriol of the she serpent. None of her words caused any injury, it’s not as though she hadn’t been called worse before, never though, had it been this entertaining. She listened to them argue for what felt like hours, noticing Jughead’s words in her defence despite their recent meeting, the argument had turned from her quickly though, to the decision Jughead was to make about his future, about where he was to belong. Eventually their voices faded into non-existence, with tense endings, she listened to Betty leave and waited while Jughead stayed outside for a few moments, gathering his thoughts she could only assume. During that time, she raised the volume on the TV again, though her attention stayed singularly on him.

When the door opened and he walked back into the room, Y/N said nothing. He said nothing. At first the two of them stayed locked in a mutual silence as he sat and rubbed his face, the frustration fading with each long breath he took. “She doesn’t like me.” Y/N finally spoke up, though her eyes stayed on the screen.

“I know.” He sighed, leaning back in the chair he sat in, though his eyes raked her form though searching for something he needed to find, as though she wore the answer on her body and maybe she did. Y/N rose from her seat, rolling her shoulders and grabbing the jacket they’d gifted Jughead from the back of the chair it laid on, walking over to him and holding it out to him in offer.

“It’s still yours if you want it.” She said seriously, there was something in her eyes he trusted and even more there that he was terrified of.

“I could lose her.” He said, as though asking for something. Some clarification or answer of the million questions racing through his mind at full speed.

“I’m not forcing you.”

There was a moment of quiet, and he stood to face her, stepping forward and grabbing the jacket still in her hands and they stayed for a moment, with locked eyes in wait, and locked fingers on leather. “We’re together?” he asked, and she knew exactly what he meant, it wasn’t about the two of them. It was about a family, about stepping into a world he knew nothing of.

“Ride or die, Jones.”

And he took it.

And he put it on.

And everything changed.

Jughead tags: @princessjughead @unicornqueen05 @andforthecoating @mrs-fangirl @aselfishllama

Everything tags: @gryffndor @itsjaynebird @vanessa-sanch-blog @lost-in-wonderland-x @annoyingsibling @bex09

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale fic #jughead #jughead fic #jughead imagine #jughead jones #jughead jones fic #jughead jones imagine #jughead x reader #jughead jones x reader #serpent!jughead #serpent!jughead x reader #serpent!jughead imagine #serpent!jughead fic

349 notes · View notes

ladydragon1316 · 7 years ago

Text

Some of the DA Inquisition Crew discuss Assassin’s Creed

(Modern-ish AU. Just something that came out of my brain while both Fandoms were knocking around in there at the same time. Enjoy!)

Aurora threw back the last of her rum and coke and lurched forward over the table. “I just don’t get the whole Connor thing. I mean, apparently so many of those ‘confessions’ are about him pinning them to a tree, but I just don’t see the appeal. I mean, he’s an idiot. He spends the whole game fighting Western Progress only for it to steamroll his own tribe anyway. He strives for freedom - kills the entire Templar chapter to do it - but completely overlooks the fact that freedom does not equal security. And his people pay for it.” She looked desperately up and down the table for support. “Tell me I’m not the only one who sees that. Please.”

Dorian took a sip of his mojito, shamelessly toying with the little umbrella under his pinky, “It’s not that we don’t see it, my dear. It’s that that isn’t the point.”

The woman across from him slammed the heel of her cup onto the table, demanding, “Then what is the point, then?!”

“The point,” he stated, extending his pinky finger in her direction, “is those broad shoulders and that Native American motif.” His hand swayed just slightly atop his resting elbow, evidence of the previous three drinks he’d imbibed in rapid succession.

“It’s not a motif; it’s his culture!”

A dismissive gesture from the Vint. “When it comes to kinks, the difference is negligible.”

“No, it’s not!” Aurora yelled, slamming her cup down a second time. She was far too worked up about this topic for a Friday night.

Blackwall avoided eye-contact, strategically excusing himself to get another drink. Which gave The Iron Bull a few seconds to lean in and ask, “So you want me to wear some war-paint next time?”

Down the table, Sera blew a massive raspberry at the debate. “Ass-in-creed don’t have near enough of the right ass. Needs more tits.”

“It has tits, darling,” Dorian pointed out. “Did you even play Ezio’s first game?”

“Not tha’ rite tits! I mean ass’kickin’ tits. Evie tits! I want ta’ see Evie’s tits!” More than a few heads turned in the direction of Sera’s shrieking. Not all of them at the group’s actual table.

Dorian took a breath...and found his original thought veering off on faulty evidence. “Alright, I’ll give you that. Not nearly enough female protagonists for the series. But that’s the fault of the medium at large. You can hardly single out the Creed as the ur-example.” His hand shot up to cut off Aurora’s tirade before it could start. If he let her start off on Feminist representation or equal opportunity depictions, they would be here all night. “We’re getting off topic. This is not about fatal character flaws. This is about white-hot-sex-appeal. Which of these darling creatures you feel compelled to seize by their sculpted packages and posteriors, and have your way with.”

Another violent raspberry from down the table, as Sera slid down off the front of her seat, landing somewhere at their feet. They’d need to remember to pick her up later before they left.

“And you think character flaws don’t factor into that?” Aurora demanded. She made to take another drag from her glass - only to find it empty. Right; that had happened. “Varric, help me out here,” she pleaded. He was their resident author. This was practically his job.

“Sorry, Bright Eyes. I don’t do Sci-Fi.” Apparently not.

“It’s not Sci-Fi!”

The man cocked a well-practiced eyebrow at her. “A machine allowed people to explore memories stored in their DNA, which reveals the existence of ancient, highly advanced beings who created humans and whose remnants gave rise to biblical depictions of god and miracles, which actually turn out to be technological artifacts that survived the disaster that wiped out the race in the first place.” He snorted softly. “Yeah, that’s Sci-Fi.”

Aurora scowled at him, “Traitor.”

Blackwall reappeared with drinks in hand: two beers - the one for Bull in a pint-sized glass -, and another rum and coke. Which Dorian snatched up before Aurora could get her hands on it.

“Dorian!”

“Ah-ah,” he teased, holding it above his head and well out of her reach. “I’ll have your prefered Assassin ass, and I’ll have it now.”

“You’re an ass!” she yelled, climbing half onto the table after her drink. Dorian only leaned further back, grinning like a jackal.

“And a fine one. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Dorian.”

“Spill it.”

“Give! It!” She flailed forward, and the kick he was getting out of this was obvious.

“Ass! Whose!”

“Shay Cormac!” Dorian gave a faux gasp of shock, but with enough dramatic zeel that his companion managed to snatch her drink from his hand, splashing soda and rum on his cuff in the process.

“Well, well, well,” Dorian schmoozed, shaking off what drops he could. “A Templar? You naughty girl.”

“Shut up!” He wasn’t even phased by the accompanying death glare.

“Now Haytham I could understand. I always suspected you might have a ‘daddy’ kink-” He narrowly avoided the spray as Aurora choked on her drink and continued on, undeterred. “-But a traitor?” He tutted, gazing off at a far wall while smoothing out his mustache. “I’m not sure we can remain friends. Disparaging Connor and fantasizing after a turn-coat. Your allegiance is clear as day. Am I to suspect a dagger in the back? Are you hiding a red cross somewhere on your person?”

Aurora clutched her drink with both hands and wailed plaintively, “He’s hot!”

And there it was.

Dorian practically squealed - how did he make even that seem suave? - and surged up onto the table, leaning heavily on his elbows, all up in Aurora’s personal space and absolutely latching onto her admission. “So there is some sexual desire buried under all that character analysis mumbo-jumbo.”

Aurora cast around. “Varric?” she whined, pleading for some kind of support.

He snickered, “Did you notice she said ‘Shay Cormac’. Not just ‘Shay’.”

“Oo!” Dorian’s glee surmounted itself. “First and last name on an impulse declaration. There is something here.”

Aurora shot a glare at Varric before zeroing it in on Dorian. “You’re a menace.”

“Ah-ah. Back on track. Shay. Hot. Explain.” This man was not going to be deterred.

And with no visible means of avoidance, “Well, he’s a good man.” When Dorian’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, she redoubled, “That’s important! He’s principled. Honorable.”

“Aurora, darling, honorable assassins make up over half the cast -”

“But how many of the Assassins put their morals above the Order?”

Dorian gave her a long, level look, followed by an elegant cocking of eyebrow.

Aurora’s brain caught up with her statement and she flapped her hand around dismissively, “Okay, okay. Evie and Jacob and Arno do, fine. But the Fryes go behind the Council’s back and go to London, and Arno pursues missions getting clearance first. But those are both still within the Order. And, yeah, Arno gets kicked out. But the Fryes don’t receive any negative repercussions within the Order for going off on their own. At least not that we see. Shay straight up turns his back on the Order when they’re methods go against his own moral code. With full knowledge of what he’s doing. He knows it will turn the Order completely against him. And he does it anyway. Because it’s what he believes is right. Even if it means betraying the organization he’s been apart of and loyal to for years.”

Her best friend blinked at her from across the table. He gave his head a sharp shake. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I heard the world ‘hot’ even once during that whole monologue.”

“Dorian!”

He threw his arms out, dramatically, “Is it really so hard to discuss attractive physical attributes of fictional characters in public? Truly?”

Aurora jabbed a finger at him. “The character of a character is what makes them attractive.”

“But give me something!” Dorian pleaded. “Some indication that my best friend has a sex drive!”

She rolled her eyes, but acquiesced. “Fine. His haircut.”

Dorian’s head cocked like a confused dog. “Scruffy? Maker, I think that’s worse than the ‘daddy’ kink.”

“Post-Lisbon,” she clarified sharply, at last lifting her glass to her lips. “After his make-over.”

Dorian got a wistful look, completely with a dreamy ‘into the distance’ gaze. “Ah yes, that’s more like it. Proof-positive a good haircut can take you from ‘meh’ to ‘fuck me, please’. And those shoulders!”

Aurora swallowed a mouthful quickly to agree, “Oh yeah. That coat does wonders for his physique. He’s all sharp angles and broad. And that accent…” Aurora let a pleasant shudder run visibly up her spine for effect, making most of those still listening laugh.

Bull took a swig from his own mug, getting a gleam in his eye. “So you like the moral pillar, tall with broad shoulders, a smooth accent, good hair and a choice coat.” His grin broadened and he didn’t even bother hiding it. “Add some survivor’s guilt, and a military history with the organization he dumps on principle, and I’d say we’ve found your type, Boss.”

This time it was Aurora cocking her head in confusion. That was a little on the nose for Shay’s ‘type’. “I guess.”

Then The Iron Bull’s eyes ticked up over her head, the gleam in his eye turning at once innocent and diabolical. “Hey, Cullen.”

Aurora swiveled around to see the man take the last few steps to reach them. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, no,” Dorian assured him. “Just discussing our sexual preferences as applied to the cast of a fictional setting based around assassination.

Cullen froze halfway down onto Sera’s former seat, looking like a deer in the headlamps. Aurora grabbed a handful of his fur collar and gave him a good tug. “We can change the subject.” The relief on his face was near-comical. “Watch your feet. Sera’s still under there.”

He had a couple minutes to arrange himself while Bull made the next run for drinks, getting one for Cullen and refilling his own mug. Aurora settled comfortably in place. Sera’s seat stayed where it was. But with Cullen having a wider frame than her, that meant Aurora and Cullen sat close enough together their shoulders brushed occasionally when they shifted. She made a point to pick a position and get comfortable. Which was, in fact, quite easy with the given company.

Dorian gave them about fifteen seconds of said comfort. Long enough for Cullen to take a drink from his cup before the other man picked things back up with, “I can’t remember: did we actually establish you have a ‘daddy’ kink, or not?”

Cullen sent a spray of beer across the table and proceeded to start choking. Aurora pounded on his back while yelling across the table at Dorian, who had burst out laughing alongside The Iron Bull. Even Blackwall had a hand curled over his mouth, trying desperately not to give his chuckle away. Sera kicked the underside of the table, demanding they ‘keep it down up there’ so she could sleep. And Varric scribbled hurriedly in his notebook with tears in his eyes, and the declaration that ‘You can’t make this shit up’.

#dadrunkwriting #dorian #blackwall #the iron bull #sera #varric #assassin's creed #modernish au

6 notes · View notes

triggeredcollin-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Roxanne | 2

SMUT WARNING (again)

Daveed announced that he was going to go take a shower. Maddie nodded as he got his clothes and went straight away to the bathroom. Maddie sighed and put her mug down - since she had just finished her homemade tea - and got dressed in her clothes from the day before. She shook her head and attempted to swallow; her throat was feeling a bit better. Once she had finished cleaning up, she patted her pockets to try to find her phone, but it wasn't there. Feeling the irritation flare inside of her, Madison took a deep breath and quickly tried to locate where her phone was. Rapidly, she whipped her head around and moved a cluster of different objects to finally find her once-lost phone. She pressed the open button, slowly scrolled through Twitter and placed the moved object back into their prior position. Maddie sat down on the scruffy - however comfortable - bed, waiting for Daveed as she played on the phone. She her socks on her lap and she decided to change her lock screen and home screen just in case Daveed decided to steal her phone and looks at the questionable pictures she had downloaded on there. After glancing around her pictures, she finally found some of her favorite musicals images; she put some Heathers drawings for her home screen, and for her lock screen, she just put a picture of her, her sister - who's name was Paige - and Paige's daughter: Leah. She sighed at the picture of the memory and imagined the love that beat in her heart when she was there, since it was Leah's first birthday.

Snapped from her dream-like daze, Madison hastily shoved her phone back in her jean's pocket and put on her fluffy, alabaster socks. A sharp click of a lock sounded from outside of the room, and the thump of Daveed's feet echoed through the corridors. Seconds later, Daveed came out of the shower, clothes on however his bulky muscles wet. His fuzzy, crazy-as-fuck hair was surprisingly dry (Which made Madison love the blow-dryer a hundred time more) and Maddie smiled cheerfully at her lover. "Throat still sore?" Daveed asked and sat down next to her, putting a tanned hand on her thigh. Feeling the sensation ripple through her leg, Madison's cheeks were tinted scarlet and she covered her flushed face with lone strands of her chestnut, silly hair. Gradually, she remembered the soreness that claimed her throat and double-checked by humming Hamilton gently to herself. Nothing hurt, apart from a sharp tang that split through the melody. "A bit, yes." she sighed dismally, leaning her head on his shoulder and feeling Daveed plant a kiss on her hazel hair. Abruptly, Madison chuckled as she remembered an incident she'd thought of, though she kept her mouth shut. But soon enough, the giggles escaped her lips, causing Daveed to glance down at his girlfriend. He had saw her gleeful expressions and arched an eyebrow before grinning. "We have to go or else I'm gonna be late," he pinched her - or originally his - baggy shirt. "You might wanna go back home to get another outfit." "Yup, that's exactly what I was thinking," She says biting her lip and fiddling with the hem of the sweet-scented T-shirt. "Also, its like a 10 minute drive to my house anyways. It would be quick." she shrugged and Daveed nodded. Not wasting a moment, Daveed lifted up Maddie bridal style, making her squeal, and progressed his way down the stairs, Maddie clutching his neck like her life depended on it. At one point, he did a sudden dip as he carried her and Madison let out a echoing shriek; Daveed just laughed at her and she glared at him playfully. Swiftly, they both slipped on their shoes and left to get into Daveed's fancy car, but he opened the door with a mocking bow which caused Madison to punch his shoulder laughingly. As they were in the car, Maddie passed on her super, secret address. On the radio was none other than a Clipping song. She laughed softly as Daveed smirked. Never have I heard clipping songs on the radio, She thought and looked over at Daveed as he started rapping along to his own songs. While she listened to his charming, exhilarating voice, Madison felt the familiar feeling of heat rushing to her cheeks, but she covered it up with her hands - only to look like she was face-palming. Upon seeing his spouse's embarrassing position, Daveed laughed curtly and quickly kissed her on her warm cheek. They eventually arrived at their destination, and Maddie unbuckled herself and nodded at Daveed. "I'll be quick." she announced and ran inside to get redressed. Also, Miles was bombarding her with questions Maddie couldn't answer right this second. She took a deep breath and shook her head. She ran as fast as she could (not really) and she got back into the car, only with shorts and short sleeve shirt on. The color of her pants were tan, almost matching with her skin color. It had some light tan stripes to go with it too. Her shirt was a light gray and she smiled at Daveed; he smiles back. Maddie put a gray sweater, hi Lin, on her lap. It has a small hole where the pockets are and it has a white zipper. Its laces are also white. This sweater is a bit big for her. Not too big though. Daveed raises and eyebrow then shakes his head as he starts driving. He hums a tune and Maddie sings a song under her breath. She thought Daveed couldn't here , but he did. He recognized this song real quick and he smirks, humming the tune of that song. Maddie widens her eyes and chuckles. She sings a bit louder which Daveed could hear more clearly. She blushes lightly as they reach Richard Rodgers theater. (took me 5 times to spell theater and Rodger -Collin). "You know, you're a pretty talented singer," Daveed pointed out. "You could really become famous with that voice of yours." She clears her throat and plays with a lace on her shorts. She unbuckles herself and so does Daveed. He runs to her side and opens the door for her. She rolls her eyes and gets out, picking her sweater up. She puts it over her shoulder and Daveed holds her hand. She takes a deep breath and leans on him. He smiles softly as he opens the door for her. Lin is possibly screaming and Ant and Jazzy slowly backs away. Maddie's eyes widen as Daveed laughs and pulls away from her. Lin looks his way and shuts his mouth. He sees me and smirks up at Daveed. Lin wiggles his eyebrows and Daveed chuckles and pushes him slightly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get it." Maddie sighs and looks down at him. She's a couple inches taller than Lin and he looks up at her and squints. His face is flushed red and his hair is already tied back into a pony tail. Daveed blinks at the two and shakes his head. He takes a deep breath and Lin rolls his eyes. "Oh look, its time for Daveed to get dressed or he's gonna -" He stops as Daveed walks to his dressing room, Maddie beside him. He smiles softly and crosses his arms, walking to his. As Daveed gets dressed, Maddie finds herself staring at his beautiful body. His muscles were shown to her and she shakes her head. Daveed whips his head around to look at her. He flexes and Maddie gasps softly. "You like what you see, Darling?" he asks as Maddie's face is a bright red. She nods and Daveed laughs. He kisses her forehead and puts a hand on her shoulder and whispers in her ear: "Maybe later Hun." he chuckles and Maddie touches his arm lightly, He pulls away to get his shirt on and he takes off his pants. Maddie's eyes are still glued onto him. She looks from right to left and then back at Daveed with a shudder. Daveed laughs and looks back over at Maddie. Her mouth went dry as she looked up and down at him. She took a deep breath and stood, smashing her lips against his. Daveed put a hand on her back and pulled her closer and bit her lip. His other hand went to her hip and he tapped on it as Maddie put her arms around his neck. He chuckled as he shoved his tongue in her mouth. Maddie was surprised , but the two fought for dominance. Though, Daveed won. He explored her mouth once again (AYE) and he chuckled, sitting Maddie down on the couch again. Maddie's face turned a deep red and she wriggled (AYE) , moaning softly. Daveed stopped and pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting them. He smirked and closed his mouth as Maddie opens her eyes. Her mouth is also closed and she whines, the saliva dripping down her chin. Daveed laughs and licks it off as Maddie shudders. "Welp, I need to finish getting dressed." He got up to put on his pants. Maddie whimpered and crossed her arms. "That's no Fair!" she bit her lip and he finished. He nodded. "Life's not fair." he chuckled and Maddie squints at him. A knock sounded at the door and it opened, revealing a wild Rafael Casal.

Rafael's eyes widened as he saw the stranger in Daveed's dressing room. His hair was wild and he cleared his throat, looking from Daveed to Maddie awkwardly. "Oh...er..." Maddie stammered and she straightened herself. Her cheeks tinted a rosy color as she blew her ruffled, hazel hair out of her face. With a grin, she got up from the couch to walk towards Rafael and nodded as Daveed stood laughingly next to her. "Diggs....who is this?" Rafael asked, raising an eyebrow as he stared into Maddie's chocolate eyes. Maddie stared defiantly back. Daveed let out a raspy cough, breaking the silence. "Rafa, This is Madison. Madison, this is Rafa,'' he concluded and nodded while backing away to grab his phone on the desk. He glanced at his messages from his ex, Sarah. Sarah: Oh Daddy, Daddy please don't ignore me, I'm wet Sarah: How about you come over, Daddy? Maybe we can do some...dirty things?

His breath hitched in his throat as he put his phone back on the desk and he decided to put his hair in a bun while listening to the two - Rafa and Madison - talk to each other, trying to learn some stuff about one another. He smiled as Maddie decided to talk to Rafa about her career being Veronica Sawyer in a re-run of an old musical - Heathers. As he finished, he turned around to give a peck on Maddie's cheek. Rafa faked a gag. Daveed rolled his eyes and grabbed Rafa. "Lets go. We have to live stream," he quickly informed him and dragged him into the other room. Maddie shrugged her shoulders and kicked off her black and white sneakers. Closing her eyes she heard a vibration from Daveed's phone, but she shrugged and closed her eyes, taking a small nap.

"Shush!" Daveed hissed, opening the door quietly once he realized that Maddie was sleeping. "You'll wake her!" Rafa rolled his eyes and answered in a normal tone: "Yeah, yeah. Whatever Diggs. She might be a heavy sleeper-" he looked at Maddie, thinking he would find her on the couch sleeping. Although, Maddie looked at him tiredly with one eyebrow raised as she slowly got up. Daveed glared at Rafa before walking over to Maddie, giving her a small kiss on the lips. "We'll be back soon." he mumbled against her silky lips then sighed, getting up to join Rafa at the doorway. Maddie waved as he shut the door behind them. Curiously, Maddie grabbed Daveed's phone to read the messages that Daveed got. As she read the messages of this girl 'Sarah', she felt her stomach twist - but she remained calm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reading the text. Sarah: Oh come on, you can't avoid me forever! You know you still love me, Daddy. Why not come over tonight? 9:00 PM sharp...so we can do a little...spicy things, hm? I miss seeing you're big...large.....cock tearing into my tight pussy. It makes me so horny... I can't wait to see you again sweetheart. I love you. And Also, if you don't make it, I'll come over for you if you like..Talk to you later Daddy. I hope you're hard enough for this pussy when I get there <3 Maddie felt her eyes burn and she slammed the phone down next to her as she stormed out of the room, trying to calm herself down. Heart racing, she looked around, trying to see if any cast members were out. Luckily, they weren't out, but when she saw a glimpse of Renee, she bolted back in, shutting the door. Her heart was racing as she took long breaths. Grabbing her phone, she decided to pass the time reading fan fictions. She waited for about two hours until Daveed finished the show. Sweat covered him mostly and he smiled tiredly at Maddie. She waved and looked up from her phone, expecting Lin. Already, her and Lin had a close bond. They had a weird relationship to be honest. They would playfully fight with each other, it was adorable... Daveed went to kiss her cheek before Maddie pulled away a bit to give him a peck on the lips. He stretched and looked down at her, then went to close the door to get redressed. "We should go catch a movie." Maddie shrugged then nodded, putting her sneakers back on. She blushed as Daveed's bare chest was shown to her again. She felt like screaming as he purposely flexed in front of her. When he was finished, he picked Maddie up and gave her a smooch. Maddie giggled as she knew exactly where they were going before the movies, to sign for the fans. She wanted to hide from them because she thought that it wasn't her musical, which it wasn't because she' wasn't in the musical. She hid; she didn't want to get bombarded from some fans of hers, so she waited in Daveed's care, scrolling through Tumblr, laughing sometimes about her friends stupid posts. God damn it, Tayah. Maddie texted to her and she acted innocent. Tayah texted back. Maddie looked up in surprise once Daveed came back. Seductively, he shook his head and looked straight in Maddie's eyes. God damn it Daveed. I'm blaming you now. You're stupid, but beautiful, glasses are just so...fricking...adorable. She thought as Daveed quickly put his glasses on, buckled himself, started the car, and started driving. "Now, we're headed to the movies, which movie do you want to see?" He asked her, but she didn't answer. "Whatever you would want to watch. But- I prefer horror movies." Maddie replied curtly, staring down. "Alright."

Maddie looked down on the marble counter, touching a book with a silky, ebony cover. It faintly reminded her of the feeling of her dog's fur. Huh. She smirked and looked up to see if Daveed was looking. Luckily for her, he wasn't. A cheeky grin spreading her lips, she looked back down and opened the book slightly to see a singular, familiar word: Clipping. She raised an eyebrow and gradually let her eyes scan the letters with ease as her mind instantly began being sucked into a different world. Just before she started properly reading, a rough, bulky hand landed on the book, slamming it to a close. Maddie looked up and saw Daveed staring at her, face flushed a scarlet hue. "Hey! I was going to read that!" Maddie crossed her arms and frowned at him, her chocolate-brown eyes flickering with annoyance. She moved a step closer to him, then looked down pitifully. Daveed only just rolled his eyes. "Don't read it....Uh... You don't want to." He cleared his throat and pushed the book down onto the floor. Though his face was still as flushes as a beet as Maddie stared intimidatingly at him, then again glanced at the book. She put a foot on it firmly, glaring at her pushy boyfriend. "How would you know?" Maddie hissed, going to grab the book once more. Daveed's eyes widened with alarm as he put an arm around Maddie's waist and pulled her towards him. He rested his chin on her head and bit his lip. "At least pay attention to me," he said and turned to look at Maddie. She gave him a blank stare and then wiggled around in his arms to face his chest. She put a hand on it then looked back over at Daveed. "I am. The book is related to you and I'm paying attention to it, so technically I am paying attention to you." She hummed, giving him a peck on the cheek. He raised an eyebrow as his shoulders slumped lazily, and his hazel eyes dimmed sluggishly. He shook his head and just pulled her closer to his chest, humming softly to himself. As she felt another wave of pointless affection wash over her, her face fell and she groaned annoyingly, pushing herself away from the clearly stronger male. He smirked and let her go, simply crossing his arms and cocking a thick eyebrow. She stared there with him, looking up in his eyes. Now the tables had turned; she was now the one blushing. Daveed once again grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss. Immediately she returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as she was pulled closer to the tall man's chest. Suddenly, she felt her heart pound brisker as the make out session got more and more heated with every second. Not even caring anymore, the pretty female kicked the book farther away and Daveed tapped her hip softly however harshly. Obligated to do as she was told, Madison snickered and she jumped up to wrap her legs around his hefty waist. He carried her to a long hallway. He felt like he couldn't wait, so he slammed her against the wall and forced his tongue into her mouth. Maddie gasped slightly at the action and Daveed slid her shirt off, rubbing his hands up and down her sides. He pulled away and sucked on her jaw. Daveed's hands stopped at her bra and took it off with one swift movement. He could feel his pants tighten and he grunted. His face turned a dark red as Madison tried to take off his shirt. As the shirt plumped on the floor, Madison wrapped her arms around his neck. The two raced to get each others clothes off. When the clothes were off Daveed positioned himself to her entrance. "Remember, what's the safe word?" He asked and Maddie responded almost immediately. "Paris." she gasped for air and she looked down at him. He smirked and nodded, slowly thrusting himself in.

After they both finished, Daveed was standing there, holding Maddie to the wall. Both of them are sweaty and panting. Maddie pulled her legs down and took a deep breath, hotness flaring off her sweaty body. She leant her head on his chest and chuckled softly. Daveed followed her and chuckled too, a naughty flicker added to his eyes. "Shower?" Daveed asked. "Shower." Maddie agreed, kissing his cheek.

#Author #Daveed Diggs x Author #Daveed Diggs #Anthony Ramos x Author #Anthony Ramos #Hamilton #SMUT

1 note · View note

theharvestersbook · 6 years ago

Text

14: Soldiers

Meredith slowly moved her arms and legs in the cool, dark water. A hundred yards away, the Queen Caretta rocked softly in the moonless night.

Meredith Leaned back and floated and looked up at a billion stars. One of them was Sam. Meredith remembered the summer they spent on the north coast, and how the locals called them "from away". It became their inside joke, being "from away". So, Sam wasn't really gone; she was away. Thinking about it like that made Meredith feel less like puking.

She thought about burying Sam at sea earlier that evening. Once all the pods had been loaded, and Neha rushed, Maya decided it would be too dangerous to bed at the Tanks. So, they headed far offshore, three times as far as the cruiser clutch. There, they wrapped Sam in a weighted canvas bag and returned her to the sea. Not really burying, but definitely sending her back to being "from away".

Tomorrow they would head to the clutch for one final harvest. Then, who knew? It was life on the run, now. With more than forty pods on board, and enough provisions for six months at sea, they could go anywhere, but would need to get there soon.

And what about rushing? Everyone had rushed except Meredith. She was beginning to think the pods would all hatch and rush before she did. Mama had promised to tell her everything. But between the pods and Neha's sudden rush, and Sam, the time had just slipped away.

Now, she just wanted to float. It was better than sleeping. At least floating she didn't need to worry about those stupid dreams. She couldn't even call them dreams anymore. It was like closing her eyes, and then immediately opening them in another world. Another life. It was exhausting.

But floating was different. She was weightless, as she watched the stars, and it felt like she was flying through space. She flashed back to her childhood, playing on the beach of the gulf islands. She would float in the water all day, if she could. Mama would finally drag her from the water, sometimes kicking and screaming, sometimes sound asleep. But she never left voluntarily. She could stay this way forever, nothing but the sea and the sky. It felt like home.

Suddenly, fierce buzzing and clicking in her head broke her peace. A large animal was nearby; she could feel it. Without thinking, Meredith rolled over and dove down into the water.

Trying to remember the experience just days ago with Maya, she closed her eyes and let all the air out of her lungs. She braced herself against the panic she knew would come and breathed in.

The first seconds were terrifying as her esophagus sealed itself to prevent water from going into her lungs. It felt like her lungs were stuck, filled with concrete, until her gills opened and water filtered through from her mouth. It wasn't the same sensation as breathing; nothing was passing through her nose, but it felt just as natural.

She quickly looked around in every direction, trying to figure out where the large animal was, where it was coming from. The buzzing in her head told Meredith that the creature, whatever it was, was headed straight for her.

She half expected to see Invidia-shark headed toward her at any moment. She knew if she did, there was nothing that would help her. Just because she could breathe underwater didn't mean she could swim as fast as a tiger shark.

The buzzing in her head increased and her eyes strained in the darkness until she could finally make out a shadow moving through the water in her direction. And to her incredible relief, it wasn't moving like a shark.

Instead of the side to side motion she expected to see, she saw what appeared to be big wings flapping slowly in the water. As it came close in the darkness, she finally recognized the shape as a giant turtle, a loggerhead. The same one that protected her from Invidia's shark attack. The same one that had watched from a distance as they harvested pods. The same one from her dreams.

She knew this creature, and she wasn't frightened at all. The loggerhead stopped a few feet away from Meredith while her head buzzed with a rhythm that she recognized.

"Meredith," buzzed a familiar voice in her head.

"I know you; I've seen you before," thought Meredith. "You were the one who saved me from the shark. And, you've been watching us harvest. Protecting us, I expect. What are you called?"

"I am called Marcus," buzzed the voice, "And yes, I was the one who fought Invidia, an old enemy."

"You know Invidia?"

"We know many of the same Proteans, Invidia and I. And I know him as an adversary."

"Of course," realized Meredith, "You're a Protean in duoan. Sorry, it's just that I've only seen you as a loggerhead, and I never really thought about you being Protean. But know that I do think about it, you're the only duoan I've ever seen."

"You've seen others," Marcus assured Meredith, "You just didn't know it. As you get older, you'll recognize them more easily."

Meredith nodded, and the two of them hung, silently suspended in the endless black for several moments, just looking at each other. They were very close. And as dark as it was, Meredith could see the loggerhead clearly. She looked into Marcus' deep, sad eyes, and felt something rising within her.

"Marcus."

"Yes, Meredith."

"Why are you here?" thought Meredith, "And how do you know my name?"

"I've come to tell you something," Marcus buzzed in her head.

"Did Mama send you?"

"Yes."

Meredith felt the hair on her neck and arms prickle with realization. She looked deeper into Marcus' eyes. It was there, just on the other side of his eyes. All she had to do was reach out and push open the door. Just push it open.

"Daddy," whispered Meredith in her mind.

"Yes, Nugget."

Oh, Daddy," cried Meredith. She wanted to hold him, to feel his massive strength, to smell horses and leather. Instead, she reached her hand out and placed it on his granite shell. She leaned her head into his and floated with him.

There was the sound of wind from somewhere, and Meredith found herself standing on a great sheet of ice, and encased in a metal exoskeleton. She raised her hand to look at the armor covering her body. There was a red sun logo painted on the arm of her armor. Then she looked around at other figures, in similar exoskeletons, all standing around and talking with each other.

"Am I rushing?" she said, "Is this my rush?"

"Hush, Nugget," she heard Marcus say, "And pay attention. You need to see this."

"What's that, LT?" called a nearby voice.

Meredith looked at one of the other workers and heard Marcus's voice say, "I said, go get some more bushings for the laser drill. We have to get 300 more feet before sunset."

Meredith wasn't quite sure what was happening, but she decided the best thing to do was to be quiet and just watch. She turned around, although she was not controlling her movements at all, and lumbered toward a large tent being whipped by the wind. It occurred to her that it looked very cold, but if it was, she couldn't feel it at all.

When she got to the tent, she heard her Daddy's voice again, "How's it look, Eyeball?"

He approached a young woman in similar armor to Meredith's. She was looking at the screen of a small, metal pad that was attached by a cord to a box on the back of her armor. She kept switching between looking at the screen and the horizon, away from the compound.

"LT, Sir, I keep getting an intermittent signal coming from just the other side of that ridge at 358," she pointed toward the far side of the compound.

Meredith looked over the woman's shoulder at the screen and saw a scruffy, bearded face looking back at her. "Daddy!" she whispered.

"Sorry, Sir?" the armored woman turned her head up at Meredith with a confused look on her face.

Meredith heard her Daddy clear his throat and laughed, "How many, Eyeball? How many? Clear the ice outta your ears!"

"Looks to be about platoon size, Sir," said the woman, turning back to her screen with a concerned look, "But I have no way of telling what they're carrying."

Meredith looked at the horizon, and then back at the screen. Then she looked back at the horizon again.

"Fuck," said Marcus's voice. Meredith turned and looked back at where the other soldiers, except the one who had gone to get the bushings, were all standing. There were about a dozen, all wearing armor and carrying small weapons of one kind or another. One or two looked tough and scary. Most of them looked cold and scared and about Meredith's own age.

Meredith turned back again and looked at the horizon once more. She felt like she was being tested, like she should be seeing something that she wasn't. Then, she turned to the armored woman, looked her directly in the eyes and heard her Daddy's voice, calm and strong.

"Call Base for extraction. Priority Alpha. We have an incoming hostile force of vastly superior size, eta, under five minutes. We are implementing Scorched Earth Protocol."

Meredith could see the shock and severity in the armored woman's eyes as she turned away to face the other soldiers. She had just raised her arm to tell them all something, when there was a searing white flash right in the center of the group of soldiers. Then everything went black.

Meredith opened her eyes to blue skies and a high-pitched ringing in her ears. She raised her hand to her forehead, and saw blood when she pulled it away. She let he mechanical arm fall down and heard Marcus' voice say, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this shit!"

She was able to roll to her side slightly and raise herself to her elbow. She looked over where the group of men had been standing, and where only broken slabs of ice floating in freezing red water. She looked the other way and saw the armored woman lying on the ground, looking back at her.

The armored woman was reaching out to Meredith and trying to speak. But every time armored woman moved her mouth, only blood came out. Meredith stared at her and heard her father's voice say, "Eyeball. Hang on."

Meredith rolled over and stood up. That's when she noticed the pain in her leg. She decided not to look down at it, and instead started to drag herself toward the armored woman, toward Eyeball. The ringing in her ears quieted a bit, and she could make out other sounds, a fire burning, moaning, and the sound of men shouting in the distance.

Meredith could hear Eyeball wheezing and coughing as she approached. Meredith lowered herself to one knee, and her leg screamed in objection. She shifted her weight and looked at Eyeball.

Eyeball was trying to breathe and grabbed Meredith's hand. Meredith reached over the Eyeball's other side and rolled her over. Eyeball cough out blood and finally started breathing in ragged breaths. Meredith looked at Eyeball reassuringly, and Eyeball tried to smile and nod slowly.

"Hang in there, Eyeball. Extraction Team is on the way," Meredith heard her father say.

"Ho, ho, Marcus," laughed a familiar voice behind her, "Don't lie to a wounded soldier. Better to tell her the truth, that she's about to die."

Meredith looked at Eyeball and saw only fear and pleading. Meredith stood up and turned around slowly. She saw a familiar figure standing with several other armored soldiers, all holding large weapons aimed directly at her.

Invidia looked at Eyeball and said, "Goodbye, dear." Then he shot her several times in the chest. He looked at Marcus, held up his weapon and smiling, said, "Armor-piercing."

Meredith was trembling as she looked at Invidia. She heard her father speak, "Invidia, you piece of shit."

"Is that all you can think of, Marcus? I'm disappointed. I was hoping for something much more colorful from you."

"Fuck you."

"Well, that's a little better, but nothing like the Marcus I remember. Where's all that rage?" Invidia lowered his weapon so that it was pointing at Meredith's feet. The other soldiers did the same.

"Actually, Marcus," chuckled Invidia, "I owe you my thanks. If it wasn't for you, I would never have thought to look for a clutch in the Arctic. Who, but Edifus, would have the daring, or the ingenuity, to hide a clutch in such a cold place? Absolutely brilliant. I tell you, that man never ceases to impress me."

Invidia's smile faded into a mock frown as he continued, "You, on the other hand, never cease to disappoint me, Marcus. You are such a great warrior. We could have done magnificent things together."

He nodded his head mockingly, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Oh well." Then he fired his weapon at the ice around Meredith's feet. The other soldiers did the same and the ice exploded beneath Meredith's feet. She hopelessly groped for a hold on the crumbling ice as she slipped into the frigid waters, her useless armor pulling her down.

Once beneath the ice, Marcus' training kicked in, and he began to shed his armor as Meredith watched the hole in the ice above grow smaller. Marcus' gills came out quickly, and without any panic, but Meredith could feel the cold already cutting through the insulation suit that Marcus wore beneath his armor.

Marcus pushed the final piece of armor away, and their descent stopped. But Meredith felt something completely foreign happening, not unpleasant, just a strange sensation, as if her body had become fluid. She looked at her hands and saw enormous flippers instead.

Meredith understood exactly what she needed to do next. As difficult as it might be for everyone, it was the only way, now. She began swimming southward as fast as her fins would push her. As she swam, a great wind rose up.

It was still dark when Meredith opened her eyes, and it took a few moments for her to remember where she was. She ran her hands across the hard shell of Marcus' back and stopped at a jagged scar that must have come from the fight with Invidia, just the other day.

"I thought you were dead."

"It was necessary, you know that."

"I know, now," said Meredith as she traced the scar with her finger, "have you found them all? Are they all safe?"

"You already know the Gulf Clutch was destroyed after you and others were saved. Now that Invidia and Superbia know where it is, The Cruiser Clutch will likely be destroyed soon, maybe tomorrow. The others are still safe, for now."

Meredith thought for a moment.

"What will we do?"

"We will harvest as many as we can in the morning. Then we'll hide in a secret place and raise hatchlings and plan."

Marcus slowly turned, and with Meredith on his back, started heading closer to the Queen. When they were within a few yards of the boat, he stopped and let Meredith slide off his back.

Meredith looked into her father's ancient duoan eyes.

"I've been rushing all along, haven't I?"

Marcus nodded, "Since the day you came across the dying loggerhead."

"Why is my rush so different than everyone else's?"

"Why do you think?"

"Well, then why haven't I found my duoan?"

"You have, Nugget. You already know who you are and what you want. You'll begin changing when you let go of your fear and find the courage to embrace who you really are."

"Does Mama know all of this?"

"Yes."

"If she already knew, why didn't she tell me?"

"Because she knew that you needed to find out in your own time, in your own way."

Meredith said nothing.

"Your Mama knows more than you can imagine," continued Marcus, "She carries a huge burden that I cannot explain to you, and that is her story to share with you. Trust her, Meredith. Trust your mother."

Meredith nodded and turned toward the boat. Marcus didn't move. Meredith looked back at her father.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I have some things to take care of before the morning comes. But, I'll see you at the harvest."

Meredith swam back to her father and hugged his leathery neck. It was strange, hugging a turtle. She thought back to her dreams, memories, of hay and horses and leather and her daddy. Then she pushed back and held his face in her hands.

"Thank you."

"I'll see you at the harvest. Go get some sleep, now."

She smiled, kissed him on the beak, and swam to the dive ladder on the back of the Queen. When she turned to have a last look at him, he was gone.

For a brief moment, the idea that it had all been a dream flashed through her head. But she knew the difference, now. So, she climbed the ladder, went to her cabin, and slept for the first time in days.

#the harvesters

0 notes

artificialqueens · 7 years ago

Text

Sugar Daddy

I have no excuses, this is pure smut based off an idea I got while showing a friend Bianca’s Rolodex of Hate video…sorry not sorry. Also idk if this counts as rough or not but there’s choking if you don’t like that, don’t read? Lastly the parts of the video playing are in bold so don’t get confused. K bye

Hi, I’m Bianca del Rio! And my favorite activity is reading my rolodex of hate.

“What the…” Roy looked up from his worktable, recognizing the voice filling the apartment as his own.

Sugar babies and sugar daddies. Now I’m an idiot, because when I read this I immediately assumed candy.

“Danny?” Roy peered out of the hallway seeing himself in full clown glam on the TV screen and Danny with his hand over his mouth on the couch watching his boyfriend’s new video on Logo’s youtube. Danny shushed him never letting his eyes leave the screen deep in concentration.

But apparently it’s about gay men who have an older man who take care of the younger man….SHADY SHIT!

“Danny,” Roy sighed, putting his head in his palms. “Can you please turn that shit off? At least watch it when I’m not around.” He stood there a few seconds with his hands on his hips watching his past drag self give an explanation about young men and instagram on fire island and hearing Danny’s muffled laugh before deciding it was a losing battle and walking back to his sewing room mumbling the words along with the video like an echo. “And if you ask me that’s some fucked up shit…”

He continued altering some of his older designs and hand stitching some new embellishments for a few hours as he heard various videos of himself and other queens being played in the living room, usually followed by Danny’s high pitched laughter. Deciding work was more important he tried to drown it out and focus.

After a few hours of working he looked at his phone noticing how late it suddenly had gotten and realizing the sounds coming from the other room were now songs playing and the sounds of pots being moved instead of the laughter and drag videos he assumed .

“You’re cooking?” Roy asked walking into the kitchen and seeing Danny at the stove, he walked up to him embracing him warmly from behind. The smell of Danny’s rose perfume, Cheetos and smoke hitting him as he nuzzled in against Danny’s neck, giving the soft skin a small peck and feeling goosebumps form under his lips’ touch.

“I mean, seeing as you think older men taking care of younger men is ‘fucked up shit’ I figured I better cook for myself tonight.” Danny answered wiggling his body in an attempt to get free of his grip. “You think mac and cheese is cooking? Cute.” Roy chuckled letting go of Danny giving him a few light taps on his ass and walking to the fridge to get a glass of much needed wine.

“I don’t take care of you because you’re my sugar whatever or some shit, I do it because I love you. Idiot.” Roy took a sip of his wine and held Danny again, this time putting his hands inside the pockets of Danny’s hoodie, enjoying the warmth radiating from the younger man. “I love you too…still mad at you though.” Danny said under his breath causing Roy to release his grip and turn the brunette around to face him. “Still mad at me? What I do?” Roy asked with a confused smile, titling his head trying to look at him but Danny avoiding his gaze. “You were working all day, I missed you.” Danny pouted. “I was in the next room?” Roy defended trying to hide his amusement. God Danny could be a moron sometimes, most times in fact, but he was his moron.

“How much longer does that need to boil?” Roy asked cocking his head in the boiling pot of pasta’s direction. “10 minutes, why?” Danny asked confused about the question and more about the fact that Roy was smiling so strangely. “Going to make it up to you.” Roy smiled biting his tongue before grabbing Danny and throwing him over his shoulder. He walked them over to the couch Danny had been sitting on earlier and dropped him down on it.

“Roy? What the…” Danny asked trying to hide his laughter at his boyfriend’s sudden foolishness but being interrupted by Roy tugging at his baggy jeans, pulling them off in one swift motion and straddling him “10 minutes right?” Danny nodded excitedly, figuring out what he was doing. “Easy enough.” Roy teased, lifting the old Nirvana hoodie and taking a pink nipple in his mouth flicking his tongue over it and hearing Danny’s head hit the couch as his giggles became moans.

Danny sat up watching Roy pull off his briefs, feeling his body get flustered at the tan fingers scratching along his inner thighs. Roy’s hand came up and pressed his chest down onto the couch. Danny was still surprised by the strength of the shorter man even after being with him for 2 years. Roy kept his hand on Danny’s chest, pinning him down as his other hand stroked the base of Danny’s cock firmly in a circular motion. Letting some spit fall on the already semi slick head and using it as lube to pick up his tempo, seeing Danny closing his eyes, clearly enjoying the attention.

He parted his lips taking Danny in his mouth, first just swirling his tongue around the head almost painfully slow before taking as much of him in in one go as he could. “I forgive you…” Danny moaned putting his fingers on Roy’s head, gripping the fabric of his hat as he guided Roy’s movements. He felt Roy’s chuckling vibrate against him, feeling even more amazing than the warm mouth surrounding him. Roy stretched his arm up from Danny’s fuzzy chest to grip him tightly around his jugular trying to hide his smile forming at the sight of Danny’s cheeks turning red and whimpering slightly at the sudden lack of oxygen.

He let go of Danny with a pop, licking his lips before he switched his attention to his balls, alternating taking one in each mouth and gently sucking on them. A sure fire way he knew he could make Danny lose control in seconds but never letting go of his grip on either his neck or cock. “Shit…babe.” Danny rasped out as best he could, Roy knowing exactly what he needed. He let go of his balls, taking him all in again and hollowing out his cheeks. With every pass making sure to pay special attention to the head, lavishing it as much affection possible before continuing his bopping. His gaze never leaving Danny’s flustered face, making sure he wasn’t hurting him but also enjoying the extremely erotic image of his boyfriend so lost in pleasure. His broken moans coming from parted, puffy lips doing something in-explainable to Roy.

He continued bopping his head, sucking Danny off as best he could savoring not only the reaction he was getting but also the feeling of Danny filling his mouth and the taste of him sliding on his tongue. He could feel the grip on his hat increasing as Danny looked down at him making eye contact for a few seconds. The hazel eyes filled with desire staring straight into Roy’s dark browns as he continued deep throating him to the best of his abilities.

He increased his grip on the scruffy throat seeing Danny’s eyes slowly drift shut unable to maintain their staring contest any longer. “Roy, I’m going to cum…please.” Danny rasped out encouraging Roy to try finishing him off as fast as possible. “Roy…” Danny warned again under his breath so soft it was barely audible as his hand pushed Roy’s head down as far as it could go hearing him gag slightly but too lost in his orgasm to care.

Roy happily swallowed every drop of hot cum shooting straight down his throat as he felt Danny’s body tense up before collapsing into a sweaty mess.

Roy let go of his hold, letting his hand now gently trail down Danny’s chest feeling it rise and fall urgently trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible. Roy slid Danny out of his mouth after licking him clean and kissed his thighs gently asking if he was okay but only getting a tired nod in response.

He got up ordered that Danny stayed still for a few minutes regaining some sense of composure. When Roy returned with a glass of water he made him sit up to drink it as he was gently caressing his still flustered cheek with his thumb, noticing the slight bruising on Danny’s neck and feeling bad for going overboard. “Better?” Roy asked when Danny came to sit on his lap hugging him sleepily. “A lot, thanks.”

“How about we order some pizza and call it a night?“ Roy asked leaning in to give Danny a kiss, his fingers gently trailing down his back contrasting earlier’s roughness. “I think that sounds like you’re the best fucking sugar daddy ever…"

#imafuckinglibra #biadore #adore delano #bianca del rio #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant #smut

57 notes · View notes