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atlabeth · 10 months ago

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(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking.

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind.

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?”

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.”

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back.

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off.

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted.

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable.

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing.

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position.

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world.

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid.

Not when you didn’t know he loved you.

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.”

His chest tightened. It was his fault.

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.”

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow.

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend.

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him.

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck.

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough.

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out.

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence.

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out.

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips.

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her.

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes.

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child.

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t.

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied.

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant.

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick.

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart.

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?”

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—”

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.”

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes.

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked.

“Oh, I—”

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him.

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.”

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side.

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar.

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse.

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead.

“She’s burning up,” she whispered.

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.”

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand.

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.”

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.”

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you.

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked…

You looked as if you were dead.

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope.

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.”

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him.

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him.

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.”

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.”

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.”

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.”

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.”

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly.

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…”

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.”

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left.

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered.

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders.

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise.

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again.

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.”

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.”

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern.

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.”

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.”

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms.

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.”

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.”

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.”

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?”

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.”

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?”

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her.

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.”

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?”

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.”

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical.

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.”

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies.

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else.

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister.

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.”

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?”

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.”

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around.

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.”

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.”

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.”

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer.

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.”

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again.

“...Thank you. For being here for me.”

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.”

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings.

Your head hurt.

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes.

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep?

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand.

You smiled. She came for you after all.

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all.

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly.

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.”

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood.

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?”

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.”

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?”

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?”

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.”

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.”

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.”

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate.

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have.

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away.

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?”

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?”

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.”

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly.

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—”

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…”

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this.

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?”

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.”

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?”

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.”

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?”

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.”

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.”

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.”

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her.

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.”

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?”

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.”

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together. “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted.

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.”

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.”

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.”

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!”

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.”

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced.

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded.

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.”

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?”

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?”

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded.

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.”

“Mother—”

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I assumed just as much, Mother.”

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits.

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it.

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger.

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym.

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her.

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question.

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.”

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit.

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position.

“I had to see you,” Anthony said.

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.”

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.”

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down.

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship.

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will.

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes.

“Is it true?”

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?”

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?”

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded.

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.”

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?”

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?”

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?”

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?”

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?”

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.”

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head.

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.”

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.”

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?”

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.”

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.”

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever.

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet.

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.”

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.”

“My lady, are you—”

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.”

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him.

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence.

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself.

You’d never felt so useless.

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

#this is so soap opera of me #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 6

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“How long have you known him?” Bucky’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp, watching every reaction.

“Five years,” you answered, keeping your tone steady. You didn’t want him to pick up on any hint of tension.

Bucky frowned, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at him. Ian seemed like a typical journalist, but something else about him gnawed at Bucky's instincts.

He rarely interacted with foreign reporters, so why did Ian’s presence feel… off? He was sure he'd figure out why this feeling wouldn't leave him.

Before either of you could say more, Greg appeared, clipboard in hand, and gave you both a pointed look. “Alright, you two, time to get ready. The event’s about to start. Let’s make sure everything runs smoothly.”

You nodded, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to stir. You’d been on stages before, but not like this. Not with Bucky, not under the gaze of an entire country.

Bucky noticed your hesitation and moved closer, placing a firm hand on your lower back. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

You looked up at him, trying to read his eyes. Was he just saying that for the cameras? Or was there something deeper there? It was getting harder to tell. You nodded anyway, more for yourself than for him, and straightened up. You had to play your part, just as you always did.

At the Convention

The large venue buzzed with excitement, lights shining down on the stage like spotlights in an arena. When Steve Rogers walked up to the podium, the room went silent, all eyes on him. He was the golden candidate—charismatic, confident, the embodiment of what the people wanted.

The room buzzed with anticipation as Steve Rogers approached the podium, every eye in the venue locked onto him. He stood tall, his presence commanding, radiating the quiet strength he was known for. After a brief moment, he began speaking, his voice steady but filled with passion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Americans," Steve’s voice echoed with gravitas, "Today, we stand at the threshold of a new era. We face challenges that require not just strong leadership, but leadership rooted in integrity, honor, and the unyielding belief in the power of the people."

The crowd quieted further, hanging on his every word.

"For too long, we’ve watched division grow. But I believe in the strength of unity, the strength of standing together—one nation, bound by a shared responsibility to protect our freedom, our families, and our future. And I pledge to lead with the same unwavering commitment that I’ve given to this country my entire life."

He took a brief pause, allowing his words to sink in, then continued, his tone growing more impassioned.

"I am not just here as a candidate, but as a father, a husband, and a son," he said, gesturing toward his wife, Peggy, and their children standing nearby, his parents behind them. "I want a better world for my family—just as I want a better world for yours. A world where opportunity isn’t reserved for the few but shared by the many. A world where every child grows up in safety, with access to education, health, and the opportunity to pursue their dreams."

The applause began to rise, but Steve held his hand up gently, signaling for quiet once more.

"This is not just my campaign. This is our campaign. Together, we will fight for a future that respects the dignity of every individual. We will build an America where justice is not selective but a right for all. Where leadership is about service—not power."

His voice crescendoed, igniting the room.

"Because I believe in us. I believe in the promise of America, and I believe in the strength of the American people. Together, we will rise to meet the challenges of today, and together, we will create a brighter, fairer, and stronger tomorrow."

The room erupted into thunderous applause as Steve’s words settled over the crowd. He stepped back, waving, as Peggy and their children joined him at the front of the stage, a living testament to the family values he championed.

With that, Steve Rogers sealed the moment—an electrifying speech that echoed far beyond the walls of the convention hall.

The crowd erupted into applause as Steve stepped aside, making way for Bucky.

Now it was his turn.

You watched as Bucky walked to the podium with the practiced ease of a man who was born for this. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, the overhead lights catching the sharp angles of his face. As soon as he began speaking, the room hushed again.

“I want to thank everyone for being here today,” Bucky started, his voice strong, yet warm. “Serving alongside Steve has been the honor of my life, and I am proud to stand here as the candidate for Vice President. My family—my parents Julius and Caroline, my siblings Shawn and Hazel, my nephew Nate, and my brother-in-law Tim—are with me today.” He motioned to the side, where they all stood. Caroline’s expression was as rigid as ever, while Julius offered a rare smile.

Then Bucky’s eyes found you.

“And of course, my wife. She’s been my rock. She’s stood by me through the hardest times, and I can’t imagine being here without her.” His voice softened, but the sincerity in his words cut through the noise in your head.

You smiled on cue, the kind of smile you’d perfected over years of practice. But inside, everything felt muddled. Bucky spoke as though you were his whole world, but you knew the truth. This was a performance. A calculated move to protect his image.

The applause was thunderous, but it sounded far away as you fought the emotions swirling inside you. Bucky looked the part—strong, dependable, built for this kind of role. He was doing everything right.

But you? You were pretending. The smile you wore for the cameras wasn’t for him; it was for the part of you that wanted to see Caroline suffer, to see her envy every look Bucky gave you on that stage. But underneath the spite, you felt something deeper, something far more complicated.

'Can I really keep doing this?' The question lodged itself in your mind as the applause rang out again.

You watched Bucky continue his speech, looking every bit the man of the moment. He thrived in this atmosphere, while you felt like you were drowning in a sea of lies. Every glance from the audience, every flash from the cameras, reminded you that none of this was real.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause again. Bucky turned to you, offering his hand. The warmth of his palm against yours was meant to be reassuring, but it only deepened your confusion.

As you both exited the stage, his grip tightened slightly, just enough for you to notice. He leaned down, voice low in your ear. “You did great,” he whispered. His words were laced with a strange tenderness that made your stomach flip.

You nodded, but deep down, the weight of this act was crushing you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the convention wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, you and Bucky maneuvered Tim’s wheelchair carefully. The excitement of the day was still buzzing in the air, but you could sense the underlying tension between Bucky and Ian as Ian approached you and Tim.

Ian greeted you with a friendly smile. “Hey, I’m working on a piece about the election from the perspective of the candidates’ families. What’s it like for you and your family during all this?”

Bucky, standing beside you, made a subtle move to place himself between you and Ian, a protective gesture that didn't go unnoticed. “I’m not sure if that’s appropriate,” Bucky began, but Tim cut him off.

“Of course! I’ve never been interviewed before. It’ll be good to share my side,” Tim said eagerly, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Bucky looked at Tim, then at you, his frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw. He sighed and stepped aside, unable to argue with Tim’s excitement or your reluctance to refuse a friend’s request.

Ian turned to you, his expression curious. “You never mentioned your brother before. It’s clear you two have a strong bond.”

“She’s a private person,” Tim interjected with a hint of pride.

Ian raised an eyebrow, glancing back at you. “You really seem to know her well.”

“We may not always show it, but we’re very close. She’s been like a second mother to me, especially after I lost my leg,” Tim said, his voice carrying an unusual warmth.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at the unexpected praise from your brother. It was rare to hear him speak so openly about his feelings.

Ian smiled as he jotted down notes. “This story is going to resonate with a lot of people.”

After a while, Tim excused himself, leaving you and Ian alone. Ian’s demeanor shifted subtly, becoming more serious.

“Thanks for giving him the chance to speak,” you said with a slight edge. “You know, it feels like you just handed him a chance to embarrass me.”

Ian chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Isn’t that what siblings do? Cherish these moments of difference before it’s too late.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean,-?”

Before you could ask, Ian pulled you aside, his face set with determination. “I heard there’s a divorce in your marriage.”

You stiffened, your eyes widening in surprise. “How did you find out?”

Ian’s smirk was almost smug. “Don’t underestimate my skills. You vanished, then reappeared, acting like everything’s perfect. I pieced it together from the campaign.”

He leaned closer, his frustration evident. “Not once did you mention him. And now, suddenly, you’re playing the loving wife. It’s irritating.”

You crossed your arms, feeling a wave of anger and discomfort. “Are you planning to use this information?”

Ian’s expression softened, though his eyes were intense. “I don’t know yet. But a few people already know.”

You flinched at his words, a shiver running down your spine.

Ian’s voice dropped to a reassuring whisper. “Don’t worry. They’ve only heard rumors. No one has solid evidence. I could protect you. Because you deserve someone better.”

You gulped, unable to speak. Ian’s concern seemed genuine, but you couldn’t shake off the pain from your marriage with Bucky. Your emotions were still tangled, and you didn’t want to get involved with Ian’s feelings, especially now.

You glanced up and saw Bucky watching you from across the room. His eyes were locked on you, his gaze sharp and intense. It felt like he was assessing every movement, every word. The tension in his stare made your heart race, and you could almost feel his frustration and jealousy from afar.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the car sped through the night, the backseat felt increasingly cramped, the air thick with unspoken tension. You stared out the window, trying to avoid Bucky’s piercing gaze. The city lights flickered past, a blur of neon and shadows, as you stewed over the conversation with Ian and the unresolved questions it left.

Bucky's silence was more oppressive than any words. His jaw was set tight, and the muscles in his neck were rigid. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, laced with an edge of command. “Don’t meet Ian anymore.”

You continued to look out the window, your reflection a ghostly image against the darkened glass. “He knew about the divorce,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his grip on the seat tightening. He was silent for a moment, the weight of your revelation settling in. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Well, that means I’m on the right track. Every politician has skeletons in their closet.”

You turned your head sharply to face him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not afraid if the rumor leaks out?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady, but his jaw tightened slightly. “I’m not gonna lie, I am afraid. But I’m more worried about how it’ll affect you.” He paused “But look at the bright side. It narrows down the list of people who knew about our marriage.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing in frustration. “You’re playing with fire, Bucky.”

He leaned closer, the space between you shrinking rapidly. His expression softened into a smirk, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. “I’ll win this for you. I still remember that moment when you wished me to win, just to spite my mother. I need that brave Y/N.”

You could feel the heat from his body, his breath mingling with yours as he drew nearer. The car’s dim lighting accentuated the intensity in his eyes, a smoldering gaze that made your pulse quicken. “Don’t make this about me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bucky’s smirk deepened, and he moved even closer, his face inches from yours. “But babe, this is all for you,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl.

His proximity was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You swallowed hard, the line between anger and something else entirely blurring as his lips almost brushed against yours.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were caught between the anger at his manipulation and the undeniable pull of the unresolved feelings you still harbored for him. The confined space of the car seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with a mix of frustration and unspoken desire.

Bucky’s gaze locked onto yours, his smirk fading into an expression of intense focus. His hand reached out, fingertips grazing your cheek in a feather-light touch that made your skin tingle. “I need you to trust me,” he said softly, his voice carrying an almost desperate edge.

You hated him for the pain he’d caused, but his touch betrayed your emotions, making it hard to stay firm. And he knew it. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.only the charged, almost unbearable closeness between you.

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mommageto · 5 months ago

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Domestic Hashira: Part 2 (Himejima x Reader)

Title: Domestic Hashira: Part 2 (Himejima x Reader)

Word Count: 1808 words

Description: (Y/n) and Gyomei navigating the unfamiliar territory of an arranged marriage.

Warning/s: This fan fiction may contain disturbing or implied sexual content that may not be suitable or sensitive for readers. Read at your own risk.

Part 1

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The sun is veiled by haze, and the sound of bushes dancing as the freezing breeze passes by. You were sitting on a rock beside a river that flows from the feeble waterfalls. It was one of those walks you enjoyed taking with Himejima when neither of you was occupied with any activity on that day. The walk you always have with him to enjoy the nature surrounding you always ends up with exciting conversations to get to know each other better.

As newlyweds, it seemed too far to build a relationship with a man you barely knew in the beginning. Nevertheless, you both had a mutual apprehension about starting over. Throughout the days, you and Himejima opened up to one another, starting with both your pasts, where you found comfort in each other.

"I couldn't accept all of the things that happened that day. My parents were everything to me. It wasn't easy to lose both of them. I miss them so much," you said to Himejima while looking down on the stream of water passing through your feet. With your words, Gyomei turned to you and gently placed his large hands on your head. He rubbed your head tenderly. "(Y/n), your parents loved you deeply. They may not be here, but their memory lives on in you," he replied.

Himejima's words of affirmation have always filled your recent days with delight and a sense of security. There is something about his use of words that tells you it is precisely what you need to hear. That healed a part of you and allowed you to look forward to your future with clarity. Gyomei's line of work may be risky, but you have faith in him.

Gyomei informed you that he will be away for a week for a mission on a farther land south, where there were incidents of demons attacking a huge village. This is the part of your relationship that you dislike the least. It is not because he is constantly putting his life on hold but because of the loneliness that comes with his absence that you have to endure.

To doubt his skills is merely an act of foolery. Himejima always trained with relentless determination. He is committed to every single thing he does, from his training to his relationship with you. Himejima ensures that he is trying his best, if not becoming better. This is a part of him that makes you admire him even more.

As you've accomplished your social duties as a wife, you went straight home. This was the day Himejima ought to arrive. Nothing but the pure longing to reach out and be in your husband's arms is what you desire. With such haste, you went to the training area by your house. Himejima frequently goes to the training area. This is how he usually finds consolation in meditating after an extended mission. There he was, standing on his feet, and you approached the giant man from behind.

Gyomei, a subtle shift in his massive form, tells you he knows you're there around the place. Even before you and Himejima became closer, he never failed to sense whenever you were around. He indeed did possess quality senses, and they were helpful in his relationship with you. The stone hashira has put his boulder to a halt and turned to greet you.

With you closer to him, he pulled you in for a warm and delicate embrace. You can feel the tears in his eyes falling down. "I've missed you so much," you whisper in his ear. His arms tightened around you, offering a comforting warmth against the chill of the evening. For a moment, there were only the two of you in an intimate embrace, leaving only the soft rhythm of your heartbeats echoing in the quiet space between you.

As you slowly move away from Gyomei's grasp, you look up to him and see a delicate smile painted on his face. This offers you a bundle of joy. His hand cups your face to feel your being. "I'm so glad to be back home with you," he says. You leaned on his hand and rubbed it. You never fail to appreciate the physical love you share with Gyomei.

"I apologize for having kept you waiting."

"No, you don't have to. I'm just happy you're here with me now."

"That reminds me," he says. With a slight pause, he pulled out a rectangle-shaped box from his pocket and gave it to you. "I got you something while I was away," he continued. You opened the gift to see a sakura kanzashi. Your eyes lit up at how mesmerizing it was.

The smile on your face has doubled from what it was a while ago. You cannot help but be flattered by his gift. "I thought you were just the strongest and biggest Hashira there is," you teased him. "You never told me that you're also the sweetest Hashira."

A gentle chuckle escaped his lips. "I may be a hashira, but I am your husband, too."

You loved every moment you shared with Gyomei. It didn't take long for your relationship with Himejima to flourish. Both of you were well respected by everyone in the Demon Slayer Corps. With your lineage as a relative of Kagaya Ubuyashiki and Gyomei's position as the leader of the hashira, people tend to be attentive whenever you and your husband are both around. The other people thought you were a beloved couple.

After you had dinner with Himejima, he held your hand on the way to your shared bedroom. The night was still young, and both of you decided to cozy up before sleeping together. This is something you enjoy with Gyomei during the night. He's lying at your back, and you're in his arms, watching the moon's watchful gaze from your window.

The size difference between both of you has made you feel like a stuffed toy for him. Himejima does not like to admit it, but he loves your size. He perceives you as a fragile being for him to forever protect and hold.

"Are you comfortable enough, (y/n)?" He asks you. You turned your head at him and nodded in response, only for him to plant a kiss on your forehead afterward. The way his lips filled your forehead made you feel the love of Gyomei's physical affection.

It didn't take long for you to face him and start kissing his cheeks one by one after another. Himejima could feel your kisses all over his face. Until you reached his lips. This caused him to be surprised and stare at you for a while. The eye contact you both had was full of tension until you both gave in to the pleasure of kissing each other on the lips.

Your body was leaning at Himejima's massive form with arms wrapped around his being, and you could feel the heat of his body pressing into you. His arms moved down from your hair, slowly reaching to your waist, feeling the moment he shared with you. It didn't take long for your hands to feel his hard and muscular form, moving your hands from his shoulder to his biceps. You can feel Gyomei's hands tighten his grip while holding your waist. This encouraged you to explore more of his built form with your hands while not holding back from the intimate union of both of your lips.

Every part of him is bulky and muscular; you can appreciate Himejima's athletic physique as you continue caressing his body. Despite his large, hard chest, you felt the fast beat of his heart's vibration. As you were in the moment, you felt greedy for Himejima. You wanted more of him, and you needed more of Gyomei. Your left hand was supposed to feel his abdomen, but it dropped between his legs, where you felt the heat of his hot and large manhood.

Himejima pushed you away. It took a moment for you to catch your breath. The tension, the heat, and the feeling were there, but Gyomei stopped them. For a while, you felt the sense of embarrassment creep up from your head to your toe. 'Was I pushing myself onto him?' you thought to yourself.

This made you feel uneasy. For a woman, it is unlikely for this to happen or for you to feel this way. Numerous thoughts filled your head, and you questioned why Himejima stopped. He is your husband, and you have undergone the sacred act of marriage; you didn't understand how it felt wrong. It seems to you that Gyomei doesn't feel as 'attracted' to you as you thought.

"(Y/n)—" he uttered, but the embarrassment you felt made you not want to face your husband.

The night felt like your first day; it was silent, and not much conversation was involved, which was different from how you fixed it to be. It also felt like a long night, as you could not put yourself to sleep. However, it felt like the stone hashira did not get to rest peacefully either. As you've noticed, Gyomei does not sleep silently. He has a deep, rumbling snore, and that is something you have observed after several nights of sleeping beside him.

The following day, you can hear the morning chirps of the birds, and the sun's rays hit a part of your room. Your eyes slowly opened to wake you up. Your hand reached out to your side to find the familiar being you slept with. Himejima's presence beside you was nowhere to be seen as you opened both your eyes. You sat down to collect yourself and saw his bed area fixed already. Thus, your brain recollects the memory of last night. You were hoping for that night to be just a nightmare.

It was still too early in the morning. The thought of where your husband is is bothering you. 'Did he leave for a mission?' you pondered. You walked around your house to search for him. You peeked at the training area by your home, where Himejima usually does his morning meditation and training. There was no sign of him there.

"My lady, are you looking for Himejima-sama?" You were startled by the voice of your older servant, Yoko. "Himejima-sama woke up early to train near the waterfall."

It didn't take long for you to go there and watch your husband do intense training. You can only watch from afar, as you do not want to talk to Himejima for now. The view of the stone hashira withstanding the pressure from the waterfall. With the time you spent knowing your husband, he only does intense training when he's stressed after a battle where he could've saved many lives. However, to your knowledge, something like that has not happened previously.

This story has a Part 3.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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Bee Stings and Butterfly Kisses || SV5

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x wife!reader Summary: Your husband takes nesting to a whole new level with the paradise he’s found to start his family. Warnings: established relationship, pregnant!reader, fluffiness WC: 1.4k

The property Sebastian had chosen to raise his children upon was everything you could have dreamt of and more. There were rolling meadows full of fragrant flowers, forests of conifers and evergreens, and even a lake with an abundance of trout. The house he had designed was built using recycled material and was sustainable to run with the dozens of solar panels on the roof. He had truly future proofed everything to live a life as environmentally friendly as possible.

“Did you know honey is the only food that doesn’t spoil if you store it properly?” Sebastian barely looked up from the old set of drawers he was upcycling into an apiary. “There were pots of honey found in ancient tombs in Egypt, around 3000 years old.”

“I still don't see why we need bees at our home.”

“Because, my love,” he said as he placed his hammer down and pulled you into his arms, “this is our future we are building. Without bees there’s no pollination, with no pollination there’s no flowers, or fruit and vegetables.” His hand splayed across your swollen belly, feeling his son’s kicks against his palm with a smile. “It’s our responsibility to protect our future.”

The outdoor sofa where you were reading was a current favourite place of yours. It was tranquil and warm and allowed you to get off your feet for a little bit while your husband pottered around in the garden. With only a few weeks to your due date everything ached from your neck to your ankles so you kicked your feet up and listened to the birdsong.

The hiss of pain was one you had come to know well recently and it only took a minute for Seb to appear at the edge of the garden, the metal gate squeaking on its rusted hinge. He cupped one hand over his cheek, one eye closed with a wince as he ascended the stairs to the deck.

“You wouldn’t get stung if you used the smoke, love,” you softly reminded him as he took a seat and pulled his hand away. “Oh dear, that’s a big one.”

“We don’t know the long term effect the smoke has on them, it could be poisoning them,” he said as he turned his head so you could use your nails to pull the stinger out without squeezing more toxin into his cheek. “They will recognise me soon and realise I’m not going to hurt them.”

“If you say so.” You loved your husband but you weren’t so sold on the trust building exercise he found himself in. More often than not after going to check the beehive you found yourself in this position, grateful he wasn’t allergic. “How is your queen doing?”

His lips pulled up into a smile and he sat down on the edge of the seat, pulling your feet onto his lap and massaging your swollen ankles. “You tell me, my sweet, how are you doing?”

Emotions swelled in your chest and you cursed as he laughed, leaning closer to wipe away the tear that escaped. “Damn these hormones. You should really stop being so nice so my poor tear ducts can have a break. Can’t you just be a jerk?” His laugh grew and with it the kicks increased. “Yes, yes, daddy’s laughing at me.”

“I would never laugh at your mother,” he chuckled, lifting your shirt to press his lips to your belly. Stretch marks littered the skin and you dared not to think about the other changes that you couldn’t see below the swell, but he still made you feel beautiful. “Everything she is going through is my fault.”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a smile. “Daddy spent a lot of time romancing and seducing me, and now here you are.”

Seb looked up, his long hair hanging in naturally soft waves around his face. “How could I not? You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I could hardly concentrate on the race after seeing you.”

“It couldn't have affected you too much,” you said as you tucked his hair behind his ear, “you still won.”

“I had to make a good impression somehow, since I could barely speak a word when we were introduced,” he admitted as he looked out over the garden he tendered.

You followed his gaze knowing he was going to be a great father considering the care he gave to the garden, and you. “It was your eyes I fell for anyway, they looked sweet and kind.”

The rows of plants were just flowering and you traced them to see the little bursts of yellows that all too soon would become bright red ripe tomatoes. Next were the beans, too many varieties to count, all climbing the trellis Seb had made from the wood of fallen trees in the forest. Further beyond were your favourites, the bushes that were brimming with berries of every flavour. Each morning you would amble your way to them with Seb and a bowl, pointing out the juiciest looking berries for him to pick for your smoothie.

Patting his good cheek, you shuffled to sit up and swing your legs off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

With a groan you pulled yourself to your feet and rubbed the straining skin at your sides. “To get some ice to stop that swelling,” you said as you pointed to his face. “You need to be able to see properly if you are thinking about getting back in a race car this weekend.”

“I can get it, you rest.” He followed you into the house even after catching the roll of your eyes and watched you struggle to bend down to reach the ice tray at the bottom of the freezer. Unable to stop himself, his hands caught your waist and straightened you up before he grabbed the tray. “I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he said with a kiss to your temple.

“I said the same thing, but you still went and got stung.”

“But that’s because I have you to kiss me better.”

You smiled at the softness in his tone and gave him the gentlest of kisses to his swollen cheek, barely the touch of a butterfly's wing. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, I don’t even need this anymore,” he said as he turned to put the tray away until you stopped him with an amused look.

“Nurburgring,” you reminded him, grabbing a tea towel to wrap the ice cubes in.

He had been excited since he got the call from Christian Horner to drive the historic track, and in a car modified to run on eco-friendly fuel no less. He was not going to do anything to miss the opportunity to return to the racetrack, even though he enjoyed retirement and the quiet life he had built in the rural settlement. So, he quietly accepted the ice pack and carefully pressed it to his cheek.

“It’s a dangerous track, Seb,” you murmured as you took over holding it, cradling his other cheek with your palm. “Please be safe and come home in one piece.”

His hands came to rest on your stomach, nearly covering it all as he splayed his fingers apart. “Of course, my love. And you need to stay in one piece until I get home.”

You giggled and felt the strong kick responding to his voice. “I have a feeling your son will take his time. Would you resort to one of those dreadful planes if he decides to come early?”

His lips twitched in amusement, used to your jibing over the consciousness of his carbon footprint. “I could probably drive home faster, with a few speeding tickets along the way, but I might be able to lower myself to boarding a plane for him.”

“Ah, that’s a father’s love,” you giggled. “He doesn’t even know what a sacrifice that would be.”

Sebastian lowered the ice pack so he could dip his head and kiss you. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the two of you.”

“Except get rid of the bees.”

His lips curled against yours in a smile you felt. “Except that.”

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #Sebastian Vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 6 months ago

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Anything for Toto Wolff with wife reader including their son, Jack!!! Fluff. Thanks!! :))

Hii I hope you enjoy my first request as a one-shot about Toto :)

The time you've been waiting for has arrived—summer break. Jack doesn't have school, and Toto can finally relax even though he always says his work never ends. Your family is together, and you couldn't be happier.

This year, you've decided to return to the Maldives, the paradise where you and Toto celebrated your honeymoon five years ago. Time has flown by so quickly. At first, people judged your relationship with Toto because of the age gap, but with time and Jack's presence, you've learned to ignore others' opinions and cherish every second of your love.

The gentle hum of the seaplane filled the air as it glided over the crystal-clear waters of the Indian Ocean, the endless expanse of blue dotted with the green jewels of the Maldives' islands. You glanced over at Jack, his eyes wide with wonder as he pressed his face against the window, marveling at the view below. Toto, sitting beside you, reached over and squeezed your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. The excitement was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness.

As the seaplane descended toward the private island resort where you had spent your honeymoon, memories flooded back. The island had been a sanctuary for you and Toto, a place where you could escape the world and revel in your love. Now, returning with Jack made the experience even more special, a testament to the life you had built together.

The moment you stepped off the seaplane, the familiar scent of saltwater and tropical flowers enveloped you. Jack let out a delighted laugh as he ran ahead, his feet kicking up sand. You and Toto followed hand in hand, savoring the warm sand beneath your toes.

The villa was just as you remembered, with its open-air design allowing the ocean breeze to flow through. Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of the infinity pool merging with the sea beyond. "Can we go swimming, Mommy? Please?" he begged, his excitement infectious.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, ruffling his hair. "But let's unpack first and get settled in."

As you and Toto unpacked, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. He looked as handsome as ever, his hair slightly tousled from the journey, a relaxed smile on his lips that seemed reserved just for you. He caught you staring and raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "What are you thinking about, mein Liebchen?"

"Just how lucky I am," you replied, stepping closer to wrap your arms around his waist. "To be here with you and Jack. To have this life."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm the lucky one," he murmured. "You've given me everything I could ever want."

Later that evening, after a long swim and a delicious dinner, the three of you settled on the beach to watch the sunset. Jack built sandcastles nearby, his laughter filling the air as the waves lapped at the shore. You leaned against Toto, his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close.

"Do you remember our first night here?" you asked, looking up at him.

He chuckled softly. "How could I forget? We danced under the stars, and later made love under them."

A blush covered your cheeks as you remembered that magical night and the years you've shared. "Through everything, you've been my rock."

"And you, mine," he replied, his gaze intense. "I love you more each day."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, you felt a profound sense of contentment. Jack ran over, plopping down between you and Toto, a tired but happy smile on his face.

"This is the best day ever," he declared, snuggling against you.

You exchanged a look with Toto, your hearts swelling with love for this beautiful, perfect moment. The future stretched out before you, full of promise and joy. No matter what came your way, you knew you would face it together, as a family.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #toto wolff #mercedes f1 #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x you #toto wolff imagine

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exhaslo · 10 months ago

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Corruption Ch13

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, Oral (m-receiving), grinding

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

One Month, Twenty Days Until D-Day

"Miguel, I said I'm fine now. No need to keep me on a lease," You said with a low whine.

"Every time I let you out of my sight, you seem to get injured. I can't have my little Spider escape again." Miguel grunted.

Hiding your flustered cheeks, you pouted towards Miguel. He could be so stubborn sometimes. Then again, he wasn't wrong either. You didn't want to admit it, but you were still aching in pain from your fight with Goblin.

"Alright," You huffed, resting your head against his shoulder.

Miguel had you sitting on his lap, his arm firmly around your waist. He was absorbed in his work, grunting to your small comments here and there. It brought a smile to your face. Miguel seemed so cruel but cared so much.

"Miguel, how come you don't want to at least take my blood sample anymore? You were so adamant before." You asked out of curiosity.

"Because once I knew it was you, I knew you wouldn't like it."

"Awe~"

--------

What a fucking lie.

"I know how much you dislike my experiments," Miguel continued, sweetening his words, "I wouldn't want my little Spider afraid of me anymore than she is now."

"Awe~ Miguel~" You cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck, "I was never afraid of you! Concerned, yes, but not afraid!"

Too easy.

"Hn, but I do hope you tell me how this happened. I am a scientist, after all, I have a curiosity to feed."

"You have to promise you won't get mad,"

Lord, you looked adorable with your little pout. Miguel couldn't help but give you a lazy stare, holding back the urge to bend you against his desk and fuck you. Miguel was craving you, but he had to wait. He needed to make sure it was safe for him to take his injection.

"I promise," Miguel sighed, already knowing everything.

He just wanted to distract himself from work and entertain you. Grunt lowly as you fixed yourself against his lap, Miguel gripped your waist. These frustrating human urges had to wait. Miguel was giving himself a harsh slow burn at this rate.

"Well, remember that day when your Spiders got loose...One bit me and I accidently killed it. It was the same day I fainted," You whispered nervously.

"Ah, so that's how it happened,"

"I'm sorry," You gave a small frown. Miguel leaned forward to peck your lips,

"I promised I wouldn't be mad, remember? Instead, you can make it up to me by showing me what you could do. A little show,"

Perhaps he should go into acting? Miguel leaned back in his seat, impressed by his own skills. It was either that or you being too gullible. Your love for him blinded you in many ways that Miguel thoroughly enjoyed.

Watching you give him your own little runway show, Miguel couldn't help but chuckle. Your blood was being used right now to make several of his new injections. He was going to use it on more prisoners or willing test subjects. Which ever was the successful injection...

Miguel will kill them.

Only the two of you were allowed to bear humanity's future. Miguel was not going to risk another person poisoning his plan. Only Miguel could rule, with you as his trophy.

"Okay, this part really freaked me out at first, buuuuuut, I got used to it." You chirped, showing your organic webs.

"Let me see," Miguel motioned you closer.

You as his pet. His trophy. His obedient wife. Honestly, Miguel was lucky that it was you and not some random woman. Just the thought of you crying annoyed Miguel. He would have probably made you super powered in that case as well.

"Fascinating." Miguel hummed, holding your wrist.

"W-Wait...I didn't think it...would be this sensitive," You whimpered, trembling as Miguel stroked your wrist.

"Perhaps you just are," Miguel chuckled, watching you fall apart, "I believe I recall you mentioning better stamina? That isn't what it seemed like when my fingers were inside you."

"H-Hah, M-Miguel...Don't say things like that...out loud," You whimpered. Miguel pulled you closer,

"Hm? Are you getting wet just by me saying it? What a naughty girl,"

"Mhm, Miguel~"

"Show me how sorry you are."

Miguel resisted a chuckle as you whined and got down on your knees. He motioned you under his desk and watched you crawl over before undoing his belt. Ah, how perfect you looked. Your lustful gaze just begging for him.

Miguel inhaled deeply the moment you started to stroke his cock. How nice this felt. Returning to his work, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched the time. Any second now his next meeting should arrive. Oh, how cruel Miguel was.

---------

Was today finally going to be the day? You eagerly got on your knees under his desk and started to please Miguel. He was driving you insane with all this teasing. As you undid his belt, you kept glancing up at Miguel.

Ugh, the eye contact made you melt.

Taking his cock out, you pouted as you started to stroke his shaft. Oh, what you would do to have this inside you. To have Miguel ravish you and make you his. Gosh, you had a dirty and unhealthy mind. This man was straying you from good!

Dazed as you glanced up at Miguel, you swirled your tongue against his cock, hoping for praise. Miguel rested his hand against your head, stroking it as you treated him. Your thumb pressing his tip slightly as you felt him twitch from your tongue.

"Good girl,"

Oh, those words made your panties soaked. Bringing your lips to his tip, you hummed as you twirled your tongue against it. Miguel only grunted in response before he started to type away. This made you frown since you wanted his attention.

Taking his cock in your mouth, you closed your eyes to the bitter taste as you started to suck. As you were getting into the groove, you flinched as you heard the doors open.

"Good morning, sir. I've brought the files you requested."

"Hm, you're late. I should have had these before I walked in." Miguel spat.

You were shaking as you slowly moved your mouth away from Miguel's dick. Why didn't he tell you he had a meeting? Gasping quietly, you felt Miguel's hand press your head back to his cock. Oh, he was mean. Biting your lower lip, you returned to sucking Miguel off.

"Did you get the other thing I requested?" Miguel asked.

"Yes...Sir, not to sound rude, but why couldn't you have gotten (Y/N) to do it?" The man questioned.

You flinched at the mention of your name.

"Are you telling me how to handle my own assistant?" Miguel chuckled darkly, his cock twitching more as you fasten your pace, "(Y/N) is doing something far more important than the task I've given you. Now, I suggest you leave before I get anymore angry."

"...Yes, sir..."

Feeling your eyes water as Miguel's cock hit the back of your throat, you tried to breathe through you nose. You were waiting for the other associate to leave. Hearing the door shut, you whined as Miguel's hand returned your head.

"Now, now. Kept going while I had someone in here, how bold." Miguel teased, moving your head at a faster pace, "I might have to reward you after all."

Ah, those words made you quiver. Wincing as you felt Miguel hold your head down, you moaned as he grunted and cummed in your mouth. You swallowed hard and coughed as you moved your head away from his cock.

"You're....so....mean," You whined.

Miguel just chuckled lowly as he wiped your face. He pulled you onto his lap, adoring how easily you caved for him. How easy it was to turn the city's hero into his little sex doll.

"But, you did hide your secret from me for a while,"

"Miguel~" You cried softly.

Why was he tormenting you like this so much? Grinding yourself against his still exposed cock, you whimpered and begged into his ear. Miguel held your waist, just grunting and groaning to your attempts.

"Now, now. You were just being a good little Spider," Miguel said with a sigh, fixing your skirt, "I'll give you a taste."

You gasped as Miguel placed you on his desk. He lifted your skirt and started to rub his cock against your panties. You knew that Miguel wanted you to wear more skirts, was this the reason? To torment and tease you?

"M-Mig-" You whimpered a moan as he rubbed against your clit.

"Hm? Want my fingers instead?"

"Hah~ N-No~"

---------

Miguel could see the tears in your eyes with every stroke. You were desperate, ready to cum. Miguel was tormenting himself as well. Moving you panties aside, Miguel groaned lowly as he rubbed his cock directly against your dripping cunt.

"H-Hah~ Ah~" You cried out, shaking in pleasure.

Miguel held your legs as he easily moved his hips. The thoughts of getting you pregnant were oh so delicious. Your moans were music to his ears. Just the thought of anyone else being in your shoes angered Miguel.

You were the only one for him.

"M-Miguel~" You moaned, arching your back as his dick hit your clit, causing you to cum.

"Heh, some stamina." Miguel teased once more.

"P-Please, Miguel...P-Please put it inside," You begged.

Miguel had to bite the inside of his cheek. Your pussy was making a wet mess on his desk as it clenched to nothing but air. If Miguel had a condom, he might just give into your advances. Shit, who would have thought that he was now going crazy over you?

"I can't, just behave." Miguel hissed.

Putting you on your stomach, Miguel pressed your legs together and squeezed his dick between them. You gasped and cried out as Miguel slapped his hips against your ass, giving you rough thrusts against your drenched cunt.

He wasn't fucking you, but he was giving you an experience. Miguel held your arms behind your back as he enjoyed the feeling of his dick between your legs.

Soon.

Your moans were filling his office as Miguel kept attacking your clit. Grunting lowly as you cam again, Miguel released your arms to hold your waist.

Soon.

Groaning your name lowly, Miguel took a moment as he cam between your legs. You body still twitching as he moved away, admiring the view.

Soon.

Grabbing some napkins, Miguel proceeded to clean himself up. He then moved onto you, watching you sweat and pant for air. If this was the state you were in now, Miguel couldn't wait to see what would happen when he actually fucked you.

Miguel stroked your cheek, kissing you for a job well done. You were making a mess of him. Once you were clean, you promptly returned to his lap, quietly sitting in place until Miguel requested for your help once more.

--------

Aaron sat in the lunchroom, watching some of the workers acting out. Everyone knew it was the effects of Rapture. It was almost that time of month for those affected associates to get their dosage of Rapture.

"Psst, I've told some of the others. They're willing to give you some of their supply for this month."

"Thanks, that's more than enough to do the job." Aaron whispered back. The other worked scoffed, sitting beside him,

"You're insane for trying this."

"The only way to stop a villain is to give him his just desserts."

"And how will you do it?"

"I'll just have to ask (Y/N) a favor,"

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Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader

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bellarkeselection · 4 months ago

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My requets is date night at a Blackhawks game with Jay Halstead where he proposes and they have the wedding at molly's where kelly severide is jay best man en Sylvie brett is yn maid of honor and they have a lovely wedding with a cake that is half coverd in a Police badge and a fire figther badge

With alot of fluff thank you

Molly's Wedding Celebration

FireFighters and Police Officers don’t have it easy. With the difficult situations, long hours and difficulty making relationships last. It all just comes with the job we've signed up for. The one thing that currently came with the job is that we all got a second family.

“So how's the future soon to be Mrs. Halstead?” Brett came over to me while we were getting ready at Will's apartment near Molly's.

Tucking hair behind my ear I chuckled with a bright smile. “I still can't believe he proposed to me at a Blackhawks game of all places.”

“You know you loved it. You've watched the video like ten times in the past two weeks.”

Whipping our heads around we both saw my soon to be husband Jay Halstead leaning in the doorway of the apartment with his arms crossed over his chest. “Jay!” I shrieked overjoyed to see him about to run up to him until Brett jumped in between us.

“What are you doing here? You can't be here. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!”

Jay shakes his head dangling a key in his fingers. “I have my brother’s spare key. Severide only took my car keys. So he doesn't know about this.”

“Well you don't get to keep them. Now get out of here.” Brett stomped forward, snatching the key from his fingers.

I gently grabbed her arm trying to stop her. “Brett, don't. He's okay.”

“But he's not supposed to see you-”

Jay raised his hands up slightly in surrender, shifting his gaze briefly over in my direction. “Technically we aren't doing an official formal wedding. So it shouldn’t be a big deal, Sylvie.”

“He’s right, Syl.” I touched her arm glancing towards the clock on the wall seeing it was almost time when we would be heading over to the bar everyone loved. I was wearing a knee length white dress, my light brown cowgirl boots and my hair was curled on the ends. “We're not doing an official ceremony. Speaking of, I think it’s time we make this happen, don't you say Jay?”

My fiancé smirked, holding his hand out for me to take. “Let's do this, Y/n.”

Jay and I headed over with Brett who held open the door letting us inside the local bar first before she ran over to her spit at the end of the bar that we had our own little ulter built at. Jay dropped his hand from mine going to stand up beside Kelly Severide who had been named his best man since we had allowed his brother Will to officiate the ceremony.

My father moved through the crowd of people offering me his arm once he had reached my side. “Your mother and I wouldn’t have minded to pay for a wedding venue but I must say this feels much closer than that probably would have felt.”

“Molly’s is home for me and Jay. It’s the first place we actually met. So it wouldn’t feel truly us if it was done anywhere else in Chicago.”

My father kissed the crown of my head before we paused at the edge of the stage. “Treat her well, Halstead or I’ll come after you.”

“I’ll treat her right, sir.” Jay held out his hand with my father placing my hand in his.

Stepping up onto the wooden stage with our hands intertwined together we kept our eyes focused on one another. Will came up to us smirking his dorky grin while shifting his gaze from me to his brother before he started performing the ceremony. “Growing up I always thought that I would be the one to get married first, but now I couldn’t be happier to see my little brother to be tying the knot. Y.n, you clearly love my brother enough to become his wife. You have the passion as we all do in this room and you both bring out the best in one another. So can I get the rings to marry these two?’

“We’ve got them.” Brett and Severide each held up one wedding ring, one for me and one for Jay handing them to the older Halstaed brother.

Will each handed us a ring shifting his focus onto me first. “Y/n, do you take this man to be your husband?”

“I do.”

He eyed his brother. “Jay, do you take this woman to be your wife?”

“I do.”

Will put a hand on each of our shoulders letting us slip the rings on the other hand. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Jay takes a step towards me cupping my face in his hands, deeply kissing me.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I deepened the already passionate kiss that he had started. Shortly afterwards we heard loud cheers and clapping from everyone in the crowd telling us that we needed to break the long kiss. Shifting my gaze over to the bar we saw Hermin and Gabby coming out of the back room carrying the wedding cake we had ordered. The cake had been designed to be half police badges and the other half was fireman badges.

“Wow. It turned out awesome.” I gasped in shock walking up to once they had sat it down on the main bar table letting everyone gather around.

Casey came through the crowd holding up my fireman jacket for me to see. “I figured you’d want your new last name on your uniform now.” The jacket was somewhat cleaned and Jay’s last name was now stitched on the back in big yellow letters in the spot where my last name had previously been.

“Thank you, Matt.” I slipped it on over my dress, sending Gabby a smirk since she was holding my bouquet of flowers. “Gabby, let’s do the toss now.”

She handed me my bouquet and dragged Brett over into the crowd with her and all the other single ladies. For a while most of us in both departments have been seeing the connection forming between Brett and Casey so now was the perfect time for them to finally tie the knot after so many years of working together. Turning around I gently tossed it up in the air and the bouquet appeared to be going into Gabby’s hands until she ducked down. “You’re the next Firehouse girl to get married, Sylivie Brett!” I squealed before the flowers got dropped into my maid of honor's hands.

“How long have you been planning for me and Casey to get married, Y.n?” She chuckled with Casey wrapping his arm around her waist.

Jay comes to stand beside me, sending the couple a smirk. “Basically since I asked this one to marry me.”

“Alright everyone, the first round of drinks are on me!” Severide announced to everyone and we all cheered overjoyed to know that everything we had planned had turned out as we wanted it to. Molly’s represented the same thing as our wedding cake did. That all first responders and medical professionals of Chicago have all become a large and loving family.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#jay halstead masterlist #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x reader masterlist #jay halstead #jay halstead fanfic #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead fic #jesse lee soffer #kelly severide #sylvie brett #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago fire #requests open #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #wedding ceremony #firefighters and police

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celticcrossanon · 4 months ago

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BRF Reading - 20th of September, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 20th of September, 2024

Question: Does Harry want Meghan to come with him when he returns to the BRF?

This is a one card reading.

The card I drew was The Queen of Wands.

This is a fire sign person, or a person who thinks she is hot sexy, generous, charismatic etc. The energy from this card is that of Meghan, so this is a yes to my question - Harry wants to bring Meghan with him when he returns to the BRF. I think he may still see her as the hot wife, no matter what he thinks of her otherwise. The energy of 'sexiness' is very strong with this card.

Underlying Energy: The Knight of Pentacles

This is an earth sign man, particularly a Virgo, and here it has Harry's energy, so it is representing Harry. We have Harry and Meghan as a couple in answer to the question. It is interesting that Meghan shows up as a Queen while Harry is only a Knight, in service to the queen. It is also interesting that Meghan is on top and Harry is the underlying energy, the energy that supports and underlies the reading. Harry definitely wants to go back. I don't think that Meghan does. I do think that she will push for Harry to take her with him if or when he returns to the BRF, both to prove a point (I am back in and you can't stop me), be cruel to people close up to extract her revenge on them, to be protected from the fallout of her actions (which I feel coming closer and closer) and to collect royal fairy dust for her next set of ventures in the outside world (I see Megxit 2.0 in the future if she is allowed back in to the BRF).

Knights are action cards, but the Knight of Pentacles is the slowest moving of them, so if Harry does return to the BRF it will be a long, slow process, both for him to get any sort of acceptance and for him to return (look at all the PR we have had about it so far this year and the situation is still not resolved). It will be even slower if he tries to take Meghan with him, if that does not stall everything in its tracks.

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lumosandnoxwriting · 10 months ago

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carve your name into my bedpost || George Weasley

Title: carve your name into my bedpost Pairing: George x Reader Summary: George is on the cusp of getting everything he’s ever wanted. His plan has been working swimmingly, and as every day goes by he and his fake fiancé edge closer and closer to being something real. Which is a good thing considering George is running out of time. The season is getting closer and closer, and Coach has finally made a decision about the next Captain of the team. George is either about to have it all, the girl and the career he’s been working towards; or he’ll be left broken hearted. Only time can tell. Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI! This includes vagina; sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk and begging. A/N: yay here it is! The next part of hockey!george. I love him so much I’m not ready for him to be over! As always feedback is welcome and appreciated <3

When George wakes up the next morning Y/N is still in his arms and he’s never felt more at peace. He presses his nose to the top of her head and his eyes flutter closed as he takes a deep inhale of the floral scent of her shampoo. Of course his sheets have started to smell like Y/N, and his shower too, but there’s something so intoxicating about smelling her signature scent straight from the source.

In high school they somehow managed to convince their parents that allowing them to have sleepovers was safer than them sneaking out to go off and fool around somewhere, and as he pulls Y/N in closer to his chest George is reminded of those simpler times. Back then everything seemed so easy, he was on his way to being one of the top draft prospects and he was deeply in love with the woman he knew was his forever. He never in his wildest dreams could have imagined that he and Y/N didn’t make it, and now the only reason why she’s in his bed is because of some plan he cooked up that requires her to be his fake fiancé.

No, back then George imagined that by now they would be married, with at least one child and a dog to keep an eye on them while he’s out on the road. After he made that stupid mistake and ended things with Y/N all George’s dreams of a wife and kids flew out the window. If he couldn’t have that future with her he had no interest in it.

Now that he’s got her back in his life? He’s not stopping until they’re living the life they always dreamed of. Having her in his arms only solidifies how much he still loves her and how much he needs to have her in his life permanently.

Because this apartment never really felt like home until he had Y/N to share it with.

She starts to wake then, and George squeezes her waist and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs, his voice still gravely from sleep.

Y/N lets out a sleepy grunt and burrows her face deeper into George’s neck. “Morning,” she mumbles into his skin.

One of George’s hands sneaks up her back, fingers trailing against her skin lightly as they move. He doesn’t stop until his fingers are tangled in the hair on the back of her head, nails gently scratching at her scalp. A shiver rolls down his spine when she moans, and George wants to bottle that sound up to take with him on the road.

“We’re both off of work today,” he starts, kissing the top of her head. “And we don’t have any plans until the team dinner tonight at Coach’s, which means we’ve got the whole day to ourselves. What do you wanna do?”

She lets out a hum, her lips pressing a kiss to George’s skin. “Doesn’t matter to me, as long as we do it together.”

Today and everyday until the end of time, George promises silently.

They ended up barely even leaving the bedroom. After staying cuddled together until the sound of Y/N’s grumbling stomach got too loud to ignore, George slipped out of bed to make them breakfast which they ate together under the covers. Once they were done Y/N picked her book up off of the night stand, so George grabbed his playbook and they just sat there together, silently reading. Once it was time for lunch they finally got up, but they only made it as far as the living room. They ordered from a place down the block and they ate together on the couch while watching a movie.

It wasn’t until they had to start getting ready for dinner did they separate, not that either of them really wanted to.

In fact they’ve just walked into Coach Morris’ house and Y/N is already counting down the seconds until they can go home and cuddle in bed. She’d even been tempted to ask George if they really needed to come tonight, but she knows this means a lot to him and she’s actually looking forward to spending some more time with his teammates and their partners.

It doesn’t hurt that the dress code is formal and George looks divine in his custom tailored suit.

George leads them over to where Thomas and Adam are standing with their girlfriends, his arm curled around Y/N’s waist to keep her plastered to his side.

“Ah look, hockey’s royal couple decided to finally grace us with their presence,” Thomas teases as they approach, earning him a glare from George and a slap on the shoulder from Olivia.

“Don’t make fun of George just because he did what you’re too much of a pussy to do,” Olivia responds, making them all laugh at the flush coats over Thomas’ cheeks.

“We never even asked last night,” Jenny starts, taking a sip of her drink. “How did George pop the big question? I bet it was super romantic, we all thought he was such a commitment phobe, but I knew he was a big softie. He just needed the right girl to bring it out.”

Nerves bubble in the pit of George’s stomach, out of all the things they talked about they never constructed a back story on the actual proposal. He spares a quick glance at Y/N, figuring she’ll be scrambling just like him. So he’s surprised to see a smile on her face.

“It was simple,” Y/N explains, shrugging her shoulders. “But it was perfect. Everything I would have wanted.” She pauses, looking up at George with a bright smile. “He did it at the ice rink where we met when we were six, and where we went on our first date in middle school. Had our first kiss there too. Basically everything important that ever happened to us happened in that ice rink.”

“And it’s where I broke up with her,” George adds, immediately cutting off the aws some of their audience were in the middle of. Apparently Y/N’s story had attracted the attention of others and they now have quite the crowd, including Coach Morris and his wife. “Also known as the biggest fucking mistake I’ve ever made.”

“You were young, and dumb and scared,” Y/N adds, easing George’s discomfort. “It’s also where we saw each other again for the first time in eight years.”

George chuckles as he remembers that moment from a few weeks ago. “Yeah and you ripped into me so hard I would have preferred skating suicides until I threw up.”

“You deserved it,” she responds, making their crowd laugh. “I was mad, but looking at you standing there did nothing but remind me how much I still love you.” The honesty in her voice punches a hole in George’s gut. “So when he told me that I was the only woman in the world he could even imagine wearing his ring? How could I say no?”

When she looks up at him again George can’t help himself and he leans down, kissing her softly. Her left hand comes up to rest on his cheek, and George feels his chest swell with pride at her subtle way of showing off the ring he put there.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Coach’s gruff voice calls out, forcing George to pull away from Y/N’s mouth. “Let’s eat.”

While the dinner plates are being cleared away and before dessert is brought out Coach stands up, silently motioning George to follow him out of the room. George sighs, tossing the napkin that was covering his lap onto the table before he leans over to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead.

“Be right back, baby,” he murmurs before standing up and following after Coach Morrison.

Once the two men have disappeared Olivia is sliding into his empty seat while Jenny and Kate, the wife of one of the defenseman, slide up behind them. When none of the women say anything Y/N shifts her gaze between them.

“What? You guys are kind of creeping me out.”

Olivia grins, waving away her concern. “Sorry, not our intention. We said it the other night at the bar, but we just wanted to say again how happy we are for you and George.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen him this happy,” Kate adds, briefly squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “Normally he’d be sitting in a corner pouting at these things. And the way he was looking at you at family skate yesterday? I would have melted if my husband looked at me like that.”

“Really?” Y/N asks, a light blush coating her cheeks.

Jenny nods in agreement. “And how he watched you tell the story of your engagement? That boy is straight up obsessed with you.”

“Seriously, his heart eyes were so big people on the international space station could have seen them,” Olivia adds.

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying desperately to quell her pounding heart. Of course she’s felt the shift in her and George’s dynamic over the last week or so, but to have her thoughts confirmed by those around them? It’s validating as fuck. Not only is their plan to convince everyone that they are fake engaged working, but her plan to get George to fall in love with her for real seems to be as well.

“I can’t even believe that he broke up with you,” Kate says frowning. “Before he said that I thought he’d just been keeping you from us all these years.”

“He was young and dumb,” Y/N explains again, shrugging her shoulders. “And really, I should have fought harder for us. I knew something was wrong, but I just walked away. We’re both to blame for what happened back then.”

“If you ladies are done,” George teases, suddenly appearing behind them. “I’d like to have my fiancé,” he pauses, glaring down at Olivia. “And my seat back.”

With sheepish grins the girls vacate, and Y/N blushes as George sits back down. His arm immediately wraps around her shoulders and she leans in to his touch.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough,” George answers with a grin.

Her blush deepens, and George chuckles as he kisses the side of her head. He knew eavesdropping on their conversation was wrong, but when he came up and heard them talking about him he couldn’t resist. The lines of this fake relationship have been blurred for weeks, and George was not about to pass up an opportunity to find out how Y/N feels about that.

So to hear that she’s truly forgiven him for what happened back then is like a balm that soothes his soul. There would be no chance he’d get her to fall in love with him again if she still harbored any negative feelings about their past. The fact that she not only has forgiven him, but has taken some of the blame as well can only mean one thing: he’s one step closer to getting what he wants.

“So what did Coach want?” Y/N asks, desperately wanting to change the conversation.

“Nothing important,” George answers nonchalantly. “He just wanted to let me know that he’s noticed how much I’ve changed on and off the ice since being with you, and that my effort to step up hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

Before Y/N can ask about the Captain situation a plate with the biggest brownie she’s ever seen is dropped off in front of her. George leans in, and the brush of his lips against her ear sends a shiver down her spine.

“Now be a good girl and eat your dessert so I can take you home and have you all to myself.”

She immediately digs in, not needing to be told twice.

When she wakes up the next morning George is already gone. But considering tonight is their first preseason game she isn’t surprised. Hockey players have always been superstitious, and George is no exception to that rule. He’d warned her the night before that she wouldn’t see him until after the game tonight, and while Y/N had been disappointed, she understood. With the possibility of being named Captain still up in the air, George’s dedication to the team is more important than ever, and she knows he’s doing everything in his power to step up and be a role model for the others.

Thankfully she has a full day of work to distract her from George’s absence, and she’s so busy thinking about what she has to do that she doesn’t notice the gift waiting for her on the kitchen island until she decides to take her lunch break in the afternoon.

There’s a neatly wrapped box that’s just begging to be opened, but she stops to read the note George left for her next to it.

Can’t wait to see you tonight. When I find you in the crowd you better be wearing this

Love, George :)

Y/N can’t contain the smile that spreads across her face as she excitedly tears into the wrapping paper, already knowing what’s waiting for her. Sure enough when she lifts the top off of the box there’s a Rebels jersey neatly folded up, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what last name she’ll find written across the back.

A waft of George’s cologne comes off of the fabric when she lifts it up, sending a shiver down her spine as her thighs clench. Not only is George claiming her with his name, but with his scent as well. There won’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind who put that ring on her finger when she steps into the arena tonight, and it gives Y/N a thrill knowing that was George’s intention.

She puts the jersey back in the box, pulling out her phone to send a text to George.

Y/N: thank you for the gift. Good luck tonight <3

It’s not until a few hours later, when Y/N is getting ready to leave that she gets a response.

George: you’re welcome, baby - im counting down the hours until i get to see my last name on your back

George: and i don’t need luck when i’ve got you in the crowd cheering me on

His words send a thrill through Y/N and she has to take several deep breaths to calm down. She’s already amped up from the anticipation of seeing George out on the ice for the first time in years, and his text has only brought it up tenfold.

Luckily Olivia’s text letting her know that she’s here to pick her up comes through, breaking Y/N from her thoughts of what her and George might get up to after the game. Because if it’s anything like they used to do in high school, the jersey she’s wearing won’t be staying on for long.

The family suite is already starting to fill up when Y/N, Olivia and Jenny show up, even though there’s still an hour until puck drop. Olivia has insisted they get there in time to watch warm ups, and the idea of watching George practically hump the ice as he stretches was too enticing to pass up.

“C’mon, let’s grab seats up by the glass. I want a front row look at Thomas’ ass in those hockey pants,” Olivia declares with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Do you ever get jealous that your boyfriend has a better ass than you?” Jenny asks as they weave their way through the crowd towards the front of the box. Both girls laugh at her comment, and Jenny just shrugs her shoulders. “C’mon, we’re all thinking it. I was just brave enough to say it.”

“George does have a nice ass,” Y/N agrees as they claim three seats. “But every time I tell him he just responds by saying how nice my ass is, so no, I’ve never been jealous.”

Olivia laughs so loudly the people surrounding turn to look and Jenny takes the opportunity to slap Y/N on the ass.

“Fuck you, bitch,” Jenny responds, though there’s no malice in her voice. “That’s because you actually have an ass. I swear it looks like I have a piece of cardboard down the back of my pants.”

“And yet two weeks ago Adam ran into a wall because he was two busy watching your ass to pay attention to where he was going,” Olivia reminds her. “It doesn’t matter how much junk is in your trunk as long as your man appreciates what you’ve got.”

All three women agree on that, and they leave their bags on their seats so they can mingle and grab some food and drinks before the action starts. By the time they make it back for warmups the suite is full, and Y/N is practically on the edge of her seat as the players make their way out onto the ice.

Her eyes immediately find George and she watches in rapt awe as he effortlessly moves across the ice. Of course George has always been an amazing player, but it’s clear his time in the NHL has only sharpened his skills, and Y/N is filled with pride as he takes a shot on goal and the puck hits the back of the net with such ease it’s like it took no effort at all.

But then he drops down to the ice to stretch, and Y/N is filled with something else as she watches his knees spread. He bounces up and down slightly as he stretches his hamstrings, and Y/N is practically drooling. Something as innocent as stretching looks downright erotic, and her mind whirls as she imagines laying underneath George while he does those moves.

“You know, I think I get the whole puck bunny thing,” Y/N says suddenly, her eyes still drawn to the way George moves as he starts to skate around again. Her attraction to George never had anything to do with him being a hockey player, the big muscles and brute strength were just kind of an added bonus.

But after watching those big, broad men practically give a magic mike show she can understand why there’s a whole genre of women who’s only goal in life is to fuck as many hockey player as possible. Because god damn, if George wasn’t already coming home with her tonight she’d be formulating a plan to get that man in her bed.

“Same,” Jenny agrees, her voice breathy.

“Is it inappropriate to admit you’re horny while sitting in a room full of people?” Olivia asks, breaking the girls from their trance as they laugh.

“Probably,” Y/N answers, finally tearing her gaze away from the ice as the players head back to the locker room. “But if it’s wrong, well then, I don’t wanna be right.”

Even though it’s only preseason, the game is intense from the first whistleblow. The Rebels are playing the team they’d lost to in the playoffs last season, and from her conversations with George Y/N knows the guys are out for blood. They want every team in the league to know that they’re primed and ready, and they’ll do whatever it takes to make it all the way to the Cup.

The first period is winding down without a score from either team, and Y/N is practically holding her breath as George jumps over the boards to rejoin the game for his next shift. His skates are barely on the ice when Adam passes him the puck, and George takes off towards the other teams’ net.

He passes the puck to Jason, the right wing who was recently promoted to first line, landing it against his stick with ease. George manages to deke around Tampa’s defenseman and he slaps his stick against the ice to signal Jason to pass the puck back.

The second the puck hits his stick George repositions himself and fires it off, and it feels like the entire room is silent as they watch it sail right over the shoulder of Tampa’s goalie and slam into the back of the net.

The suite erupts into cheers as the buzzer rings out, and the girls are shouting as they jump up and down in celebration. George’s teammates on the ice all crowd around him, but as they separate George turns in the direction of the suite, and Y/N swears their eyes connect as he raises his stick, pointing it directly at her.

“What’s he saying?” Olivia leans in to ask as they all watch his mouth move.

And even though Y/N can’t make out the words, she knows without a doubt what George has just said. Because since their relationship began in middle school he’s done the exact same thing after every single goal.

“That was for you,” she answers, voice tight with emotion.

“He dedicated his goal to you? That’s so fucking cute,” Olivia squeals. “Thomas never dedicates his goals to me.”

“That’s because he’s the fucking goalie, Liv,” Jenny huffs.

Y/N ignores the argument that proceeds, too busy watching George battle Tampa’s center for the puck after the face off. She’s in awe that not only did George remember their tradition, but he just did it live on national television in front of a packed audience.

All her fears that George’s blatant display of affection was just a fluke, that he was just caught up in the moment are completely erased in the third period, when after scoring the game winning goal George shakes off his teammates so that he can raise his stick to Y/N and do it again.

After the game the girl’s had met their men outside of the locker room, and when George took Y/N into his arms he’d whispered that he wouldn’t mind missing out on the celebration and he’d take her home instead. And of course Y/N had been tempted, after watching him on the ice all night and dedicating his two goals to her she was more than ready to get him alone.

But the guys who already trickled out of the locker room were calling George’s name, and Y/N knows how important it is for George to be there for the guys both on and off the ice as he strives to be captain.

So instead they’re at Maynards, which after the team’s win is practically at capacity. Fans and puck bunnies are everywhere and Y/N can’t help but feel bothered by their presence. George is hanging out by the pool tables with his team while Y/N has been sitting at the bar with Olivia and Jenny, and every few minutes she can feel her eyes trailing over to him to make sure the women in the bar are keeping their distance.

This is totally new territory for Y/N, and she hates how insecure she feels. When she and George were together before puck bunnies weren’t a concern. George was so focused on his dreams of the NHL and their relationship that he didn’t ever go out with the guys on the team. After a home game he’d end up snuggled in bed with Y/N, and after an away game he locked himself in his hotel room to call her.

It doesn’t help that she knows George has been one to indulge in puck bunnies in the past, not that she judges him for it at all. He was free to do whatever and whoever he wanted while they were broken up. But now they’re in this really weird space. They’re not really together, and George certainly could leave this bar with Y/N and then meet up with some random girl later. She doesn’t think he would do that anyway, considering how well things have been going with them and he didn’t even want to go out in the first place.

But it’s easy to feel insecure when you’re surrounded by beautiful women whose only goal is to get your fiancé in bed.

“Do they ever bother you?” Y/N asks, gesturing around the bar. “All of the girls?”

“Hell yes,” Olivia answers honestly. “Mostly because a lot of the girls don’t give a shit if the player they’re after is in a relationship or not. Like I don’t care if you’re just trying to find some good dick, but at least stick to girl code.”

“Tell me about it,” Jenny adds. “One time a girl tried to stick her hand down Adam’s pants while I was sitting on his lap. Like bitch, read the fucking room.”

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “Jesus, that’s crazy. So how are you guys so calm sitting over here while the guys are on their own? Especially knowing the lengths some will go to sleep with a hockey player.”

“Trust,” Olivia answers simply and Jenny nods in agreement. “Do you trust George?”

“With my life,” Y/N responds without hesitation.

Olivia shrugs, smiling at Y/N. “Then let the puck bunnies try and get him into bed. Because you know that the only girl he’ll actually be going home with is you.”

Her words do quell some of the nerves rattling around Y/N’s stomach, and she takes another sip of her drink, immersing herself into Olivia and Jenny’s conversation. She even keeps herself from checking on George, trusting that Olivia was correct. Y/N doesn’t have to trust all of those women to stay away from George, she has to trust that George would never give some puck bunny a second glance.

Several minutes later Y/N and Jenny are talking about work when Olivia comes back from the bathroom with a weird look on her face.

“Okay, remember all that shit I said earlier about trust and puck bunnies and whatever.” There’s apprehension in her voice, and all Y/N can manage is a curt nod. “Okay well fuck all of that shit because there’s some puck bunny rubbing all over George and I think you need to go stake your claim on your man.”

Y/N swivels in her seat and anger rises in her throat at what she sees. Sure enough George is leaning against the side of a pool table, and there’s a bottle blonde pressing up against him, one of her hands twirling a piece of her hair while the other rests on George’s shoulder. To be fair to George he’s not touching her at all, one of his hands is gripping a beer bottle while the other rests on the pool table and Y/N can tell by the look on his face that he’s wildly uncomfortable and trying to find some way out of the interaction.

Jealousy quickly overtakes the anger as the puck bunny trails her hand up George’s neck to tangle her fingers in his hair, and before Y/N knows what she’s doing she’s up out of her seat and heading across the bar. Like hell if she’s gonna stand there while some random woman touches what belongs to her. Over her dead fucking body.

Like they’re tied together by an invisible string, George’s eyes snap to Y/N’s as she approaches and a look of relief takes over his features.

“Hey baby,” he greets, and when the woman looks over at Y/N George uses the distraction to push her to the side. “Are you ready to go?”

In lieu of answering his question Y/N shoves herself into the small space separating George from the puck bunny, wrapping one arm around his waist as the other grips his neck and she pulls him down into a kiss. She moans as George kisses her back, but she doesn’t relinquish control. Because this isn’t just a kiss, it’s a message. Y/N wants all of the bunnies to know that George belongs to her, and their days of coaxing him into their bed are over.

When the need to breathe becomes too overwhelming Y/N finally breaks their kiss, but the grip she has on George’s neck keeps their faces close together.

“Take me home?” she asks, just loud enough so the woman who is still hovering nearby can hear.

George is sure that the flicker of lust in Y/N’s eyes is reflected in his own, and he gives her a curt nod. “Of course, baby. It’s time for us to go to bed.”

Too bad sleep is the last thing on George’s mind.

George has her pressed up against the front door as soon as it’s closed behind them.

Neither of them said a word on the drive home, the air was so thick with want they were too afraid words might ruin what was bound to happen once they were home. Because that kiss at the bar was unlike any of the ones they’d shared since this arrangement started, it shattered the line between fake and real that they’ve been skating around for weeks and now there’s no going back.

George has his mouth on Y/N before she even has a chance to breathe. His teeth nip at her bottom lip before his tongue soothes it, hand gripping the back of her neck to angle her head in order to kiss her even deeper. His kiss is possessive, claiming her just as her kiss at the bar had claimed him, and Y/N is sure that without George’s body holding her to the door she’d be a puddle on the ground.

“I can’t fucking get enough of you, baby,” George growls into her skin as his lips kiss and nip down her neck. “I’m fucking addicted to you, Y/N. Your smell, your taste, the fucking noises you make for me.”

“George,” Y/N gasps as his teeth dig into the flesh at the juncture of her neck, his lips sucking hard enough to leave a bruise that is sure to last for weeks.

“My name sounds so good coming from those lips, baby.”

George recaptures her mouth, using the hand that’s not still gripping the back of Y/N’s neck to grab a hold of her thigh. He hitches it up around his hip and does the same to her other leg before placing his hand under Y/N’s ass for support.

She breaks their kiss as George starts to carry them down the hall, her teeth nipping at the skin of his jaw before her lips soothe the pain with soft kisses. As he pushes into their bedroom Y/N’s nose finds the base of his throat and her eyes flutter shut as she takes a deep inhale of his scent. It’s his cologne mixed with something Y/N can only describe as George, and its familiarity instantly soothes any nerves she may have.

It’s a stark reminder that this is George, her George, and she knows no matter what is about to happen she’s in good hands.

George chuckles as Y/N takes another deep breath and he sets her down gently on the end of their bed. “Do I smell bad or something? I promise I showered.”

His tease breaks some of the tension, and Y/N bites her lip as she looks up at George, shaking her head fondly. “Not at all, I was just thinking about how so much has changed and yet you still smell the same.”

George’s hand finds the back of Y/N’s neck again, thumb rubbing circles against the side of her throat. “You gave me that cologne, for Christmas, freshman year of high school. I’ve worn it every day since because it reminds me of you.”

Before Y/N has a chance to respond George is leaning in to kiss her again and she’s thankful for the distraction, since she’s definitely not in the headspace to be uncking that. Nope, George’s revelation will have to wait until tomorrow, when he isn’t kissing her breathless and her cunt isn’t soaking the inside of her thighs.

He pushes her up the bed as they kiss, crawling so that his body covers Y/N’s once he has her laying back against the pillows. Her thighs spread wide, making room for George’s broad frame to settle between them. His cock, hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans, presses right against her pussy and George just barely grinds his hips to make them both moan.

“Tell me now if you want me to stop,” George pants as he breaks their kiss. He keeps his eyes focused on Y/N’s, needing to see that she wants this just as much as him. “If you don’t want this to happen tell me now and I’ll walk away and take the coldest fucking shower known to man.”

Y/N returns George’s gaze as her fingers twist in the hair on the back of his head and she gives the strands a sharp tug. “Please, George. I need you.”

That’s all the confirmation George needs, making quick work of their clothes. He kisses every inch of skin he reveals to the point that Y/N is writhing underneath him and her pussy throbs, begging for attention.

Her panties are the last thing to go, and as soon as she’s bare George’s fingers find her slit, dragging through the wetness before lightly circling her clit.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N gasps, hips eagerly pushing into George’s touch. “I’m so ready for you George, please.”

George sinks two fingers into her, cock twitching at the way her cunt sucks them in. He curls his fingers, drawing a moan from Y/N’s lips as they brush against her g-spot. “Fuck, baby. I wanted to take my time but I need to be inside of you.”

He sucks the fingers that were just inside Y/N clean, groaning around the digits as he tastes her for the first time in years. “Fuck, you taste,” he trails off, making Y/N whine impatiently.

“Like what?” she pants, dragging George’s mouth to hers so she can kiss him.

“Like mine,” George growls into their kiss, dipping his tongue into Y/N’s mouth so she can taste herself too.

When he goes to reach for a condom Y/N stops him, intertwining their fingers. “I’m clean, and on birth control so you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Shit,” George groans, his head dropping so his forehead rests against her’s. “You’re telling me I can fuck you bare?”

“Please,” Y/N confirms with a nod. “I wanna feel you, all of you.”

Any fear George had about Y/N not wanting him the way he wants her has been thrown out of the window. She’s the only woman he’s ever forgone a condom with, and it’s going to stay that way if he has anything to say about it.

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” he teases, notching the tip of his cock against her pussy. He thrusts his hips gently, making them both moan as he coats himself in her slick. “I’m clean too,” he confirms, nudging his nose against her’s. “You’re the only person I’ve never used anything with.”

Something so simple makes her heart soar, and Y/N tips her chin up so George will kiss her. Knowing that she’s about to have George in a way no other woman has is intoxicating. No matter how many women he’s fucked, Y/N is the only one that he has given all of himself to, further confirming what she’s suspected for days.

Whatever is going on between them has turned into something real, and it’s looking like a real possibility that George loves her too.

“Oh my god,” Y/N moans as George finally starts to slowly push inside, her legs wrapping around his waist to encourage him to move faster. “You feel so fucking good, George, please.”

George groans as Y/N’s cunt pulses around him, her tight heat making his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Jesus christ, you’re so fucking tight baby. This pretty fucking pussy is choking my cock.”

When he’s halfway in his hips suddenly pull back, and the whine Y/N lets out quickly turns into a moan when George suddenly fucks back into her, not stopping until his thighs are pressed against the back of her’s and he’s buried inside of her completely.

His cock presses right against her g-spot, and Y/N feels electric zips of pleasure radiating through her body despite the fact that George has yet to move. Her muscles squeeze around him, and George buries a groan into her neck.

“Fuck, baby. I need a second or I’m going to cum way to fucking soon,” he growls, nipping at her neck. “Your pussy is so fucking tight it’s driving me insane.”

Y/N squirms underneath him, desperately trying to get him to move. “Please George, ‘m so fucking full of your cock, it feels so good. I need you to move.”

“Good fucking girl, begging for me” George praises as he finally starts to thrust, drawing a long, breathy moan from Y/N’s lips. Her pussy clenches as the praise, and George drives his hips even harder. “You like being my good girl, don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” Y/N gasps, her back arching as she starts to meet George’s thrusts. “Wanna be your good girl, George, please.”

George rests all of his weight onto his left arm and presses his thumb against Y/N’s mouth. “Be a good girl and suck my thumb, baby. Get it nice and wet so I can touch your pussy.”

She immediately complies, taking the digit between her lips and sucking hard. Her tongue wraps around it, getting it nice and soaked so George will finally touch her throbbing clit.

“Good girl,” he praises again as his thumb slips from her mouth. He immediately presses it to her clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bud in time with his thrusts.

Y/N’s toes curl where they rest against George’s back, the familiar tingle in the pit of her stomach already building brighter as he inches her closer and closer to her orgasm. “I’m so fucking close, George, please.”

George readjusts so one of Y/N’s legs is slung over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck back into her even deeper. “Go on, baby. Soak my fucking cock with your cum.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before Y/N is falling over the edge, thighs trembling as pleasure rocks through her body. George’s name falls from her mouth before he kisses her, swallowing every single noise she makes so that he can keep it for himself.

“Fuck I’m close,” George growls when their kiss breaks, the way Y/N’s cunt pulses around him driving him towards the edge of his own climax. “Gonna cum inside you, baby. Claim this fucking cunt because it’s mine. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, yours George, please.” Y/N grabs George’s chin so he can’t look away. “Cum inside me, please.”

Her plea pushes him over the edge, and George buries his face in Y/N’s neck, letting her body absorb his pleasure as he pulses deep inside of her. George sucks and nips at her skin as his orgasm starts to fade, slowly resting his body against Y/N’s as they both catch their breath.

They kiss slowly as George softens inside of her, finally pulling out when the feeling gets to be too much. Neither of them says anything as George pulls away, Y/N watching from the bed as George grabs a cloth from the ensuite. Once he’s back in bed and has wiped their mess away, Y/N still hasn’t found the right words. So she lets him pull her into his arms as they settle under the duvet, the steady pounding of his heart lulling her to sleep.

George lays awake for hours after Y/N drifts off, still wound up from the game and everything that happened after. He kisses the side of her neck softly, dragging his fingers up and down Y/N’s bare arm. He can’t remember the last time he felt this content and he just wants to savor this moment for a little bit longer.

Sex with other women has always been a means to an end for George. He was horny, the girl was willing, and in the end he’d go back home to his own bed satisfied. There was never this connection that he feels with Y/N, this deep need to take care of his partner, this reluctance to let them go. It isn’t just sex with her, as corny as it sounds it’s making love, and there’s no way George can ever go back to the way it was before.

If his plan doesn’t work and Y/N truly doesn’t ever return his feelings, she’s well and truly ruined him for any other woman.

The thought of Y/N walking away from him, from this makes his stomach drop, and he finally has to confront the fact that his time is running out and it’s a real possibility that he may never get to hold her like this again.

Because he lied to her last night.

At dinner, when Coach Morrison pulled him aside he didn’t just want to talk to George about how he’s noticing how different he is now and the progress he’s made. He sat George down in his office to let him know that a decision about Captain had finally been made.

George is officially the next Captain of the Chicago Rebels.

The news had immediately brought a burst of joy to him, knowing that all of his hard work with the team hasn’t gone unnoticed. But it was swiftly replaced with fear and sadness. Because if George is Captain, technically his arrangement with Y/N can end. She’d done what she promised and is free to head back home and live her life as she was before. They can go back to just being a part of each other’s pasts, instead of building towards the future George so desperately wants.

He’s barely put his plan into action, and he’d hoped he’d have more time to get Y/N to fall back in love with him. Even though things between them are clearly going well, and every day their relationship feels less and less fake, he’s not sure it’s enough to get her to stay here with him. George is ready to go to the courthouse tomorrow and turn this fake engagement into a real marriage, but he’s not quite sure that Y/N is on the same page.

Which scares the shit out of him.

Luckily Coach doesn’t plan on making the announcement to the rest of the team until the season officially starts, wanting to present George with a new jersey just before the first game.

He can only hope that’s enough time, because a life without Y/N is no longer an option.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fan fiction #harry potter au #harry potter #gw #golden

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chiefdirector · 1 year ago

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Ghosts | Charles Xavier | X-Men

No.25: “why didn’t you save me?”

There was many things wrong with the scene in front of Charles but three stood out to him the most.

First being that he and Erik were in the same vicinity and were not actively trying to bring each other to ruin. It had been a long time since they had been together amicably, if the circumstance had been different, Charles may have even enjoyed this change in dynamic.

Second was that he could feel his legs. He could feel the ground under his feet and his hand brush his thigh. He could walk through the sandy beach away from Erik and towards the figure in the distance. He could stretch, and run, and be free from the confines of his wheelchair. This he did allow himself to enjoy. It had been so long since he had felt such freedom so he allowed himself the pleasure to walk towards the figure despite the fact that they faced away from him.

It was this figure that broke the illusion for him. In his mind he could justify him and Erik getting along, despite their history together, Charles could see a day in the very, very distant future that they would see eye to eye, at least on some matters, again. And the motion in his legs was explained by that experimental serum that Hank had been working on. The possibility of his legs being restored fully was such a far fetched idea after all.

But seeing her again was unexplainable.

Charles had held his wife in his arms when she died. Even through the excruciating pain of losing his legs, he held her. The same shrapnel that paralyzed him had lodged himself into her heart.

It took Charles months to come to the realisation that Erik did not mean to harm her, but by then he was long gone. Eventually, everyone began to move on with their lives. Hank was the only one left by Charles' side; Charles had spent many nights wondering why Hank stayed, he was a shell of a man without her by his side.

By the time he approached, Charles was so captivated by her presence that he didn't notice the sound of the seagulls had stopped or the smell of the salty ocean had had faded into nothing. It was only him and her left in their own little slice of paradise.

"Hello my love," He tentatively said, willing himself to move closer but finding that his legs would once again refuse to respond to his command.

"Charles." She acknowledged, her back still to him. From this distance Charles could see the intricacies of the lace of her white dress. When she was alive she never tended to wear anything so delicate, not even on her wedding day.

"You're not supposed to be here." He whispered, still stuck motionless before him. "You... you died."

"You let me die." She turned around, and for the first time since Charles buried her did he look at her once beautiful face. But now it was covered in blood cuts he could only assume were made by loose flying shrapnel. The front of her dress was only ripped and stained. She still looked like an angel, only now she looked like she had fallen from Heaven. "Why didn't you save me?"

Charles went to speak, but couldn't find the words. Or the breath. He almost began to choke but the oxygen eventually rushed back into his lungs. This peace of mercy was accompanied by God or whatever higher power in play taking away his ability to stand. Charles felt himself crumpled to the ground, once again paralysed. He thought back to the oddness of Erik's presence and whipped his head behind him to find the man but only saw black.

When his head turned back to his wife, he was greeted by the same oblivion. He tried to move forward but he couldn't move. He crumpled to the ground again and closed his eyes, hoping that he darkness would consume him like it did to his wife. But it didn't.

When he opened them again, he was greeted by the same wooden walls he knew all too well. The clock on his bedside table stuck three a.m precisely. Charles just shifted to his side, knowing that sleep would not come for him again, at least not any time soon.

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober

#charles xavier imagine #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier headcanons #x men first class #professor x #chiefdirector #ailesswhumptober2023

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ramsayxme · 1 year ago

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Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / AO3 Link

TW - ramsay bolton, marriage, forceful sex, choking, unconscious sex, murder, death, manipulation, cutting / talking about wounds in detail, violence, stockholm syndrome.

Chapter Seven: You Belong Here

For the first time in a very long time, you were woken up by sunlight beaming down on your face. You turned over, nuzzling into your sleeping lover. Ramsay slept flat on his back with one hand always touching you. You blinked as you woke up, staring lovingly at Ramsay. Sleep made him look soft, his chest rose and fell gently with his breathing. You kissed his chest as you propped yourself up on your elbows, stomach on the bed. "Ramsay..." You whispered. He softly stirred, his eyes rolling open, a small grunt escaping his lips. Seeing him like this made you smile.

"My love, wake up." You whispered again, tracing the muscles on his toned arms with your fingertips. Ramsay rolled into you, wrapping you in his arms. He nuzzled his warm face in your chest, a raspy groan coming from his throat. "No." He said, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep but muffled into your body. You could feel him exhaling against your chest as you stroked his hair. You knew you were falling in love with him. You hadn't fully accepted it yet, but you knew it was happening. Today you were going to marry him and the idea didn't completely scare you, in fact you were almost excited.

"Ramsay, we are going to have our wedding today." You whispered, causing him to roll onto his back and finally open his beautiful eyes. "Yes, we are." He mumbled, his lips turning into a grin. "Are you excited?" He asked. You nodded, your hair falling onto his bare chest. "Of course I am. Are you?" He chuckled, brushing your hair back with his hand. "Yes. I am."

Ramsay sat up and climbed out of bed. "In fact, we should get up. I would hate to have to wait any longer than we have to for our wedding night." He flashed a grin at you and you felt your stomach flutter. You giggled and scurried off, Ramsay slapping your ass as you ran away. You ran all the way to your chambers where there was a long white dress waiting for you on your bed, and a white fur cloak. Reek was waiting for you in the corner of your room. He startled you, as you didn’t expect to see anyone.

“I’m here to help you with anything you may need, M’Lady.” He muttered. You walked up to him. “I’m sorry for last night, Reek… I didn’t want to hit you.” You reached your hand out to him, trying to show some humanly comfort but he only flinched. He didn’t respond to your apology. “Master said I am not allowed to s-speak any more to you, only to say what I have to.” Reek trembled. You sighed as you turned to your dress. There was no sense in trying anymore, he was a lost cause. Reek turned around so you could get dressed. You wondered if you were also a lost cause as you pulled your wedding gown over your head and fastened your bridal cloak.

You heard footsteps running in the hallway and a few men shouting. This wasn’t normal, but you didn’t want to involve yourself. Reek shuddered at the sound. Ramsay opened your door, he was dressed in the finest leather you’ve seen him wear. Gods, he was handsome. His hair was clean and curling under his ears. His freshly shaven skin looked soft and gentle, but you knew it was a mask; one that you’d come to love. Ramsay grinned. “Reek! Go make sure everything is set up to my liking and let me have a moment with my future wife!” He barked, sending Reek scrambling out the door.

That’s when you noticed the bloody knife in Ramsay’s hand. He wiped the knife clean on a blanket draped over the chair in your room. He noticed your gaze lingering on his knife and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll never hurt you. It’s unfortunate, really…. My father must’ve been poisoned by our enemies… I just found him dead.” Ramsay grinned at you as he stepped closer, putting his knife back into its sheath. He wrapped his hands around your waist and admired your beauty. “Now, we truly can be the Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort.”

Your chest felt warm as you pressed your lips against his. You knew he had just stabbed his own father, but you felt the urge to belong to him in this moment. He was doing this for your future, your title, your family. You felt somewhat honored. Again, Ramsay had the power to make you feel less than the dirt caked to his shoes one minute and then the next minute, the best prize in all of the seven kingdoms. Your arms hung around his neck, your fingers playing with his curls on the back of his neck. He gave you a closed lip smile as his eyes scanned your face.

Your wedding was somber, as Roose Bolton had just been murdered, but it was beautiful for you and your husband. Bolton men lined the courtyard with torches as you and Ramsay shared your moments. It was early evening, the sun had set and the sky was hazy. Nothing else mattered, the audible fear from both women and men had been drowned out by Ramsays gaze. He stared at you with a mixture of possession and longing. Snow gently fell, sprinkling flakes on Ramsay's dark hair. He looked absolutely handsome. His eyes pierced into you, his mouth tightened into a grin as you spoke. "I take this man." You announced when prompted, and you and Ramsay sealed your marriage with a kiss.

You walked down the aisle together now as husband and wife, Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort, Warden and Wardeness of the North. Ramsay was grinning from ear to ear and so were you. Although the pit of fear in your stomach was always there, you had learned to befriend it; almost welcome it. Ramsay was yours, and you were his.

Ramsay led you to your chamber that you now shared. You stepped in and he closed the door with a loud groan from the old hinges. "Are you pleased, my lady?" He asked you, stepping towards you. You nodded, smiling. "Yes, very. I love you, Ramsay." You finally spoke the words that you had been holding deep within you, locked away in a box built of shame and guilt. Ramsay smiled as he took your hands, leading you to the bed. You were completely under his spell, you were putty in his hands. He could tear you to pieces if he wanted to, limb by limb, and you wouldn't complain.

All of the sudden, Ramsay spun you around and yanked your body against his, your back pressing into his chest. He snarled as his teeth yanked at the shoulder of your dress, his hand snaking around your body to grip your throat. "You're mine." He growled, causing your eyes to flutter, knowing he was about to ravish your body. "Take off your clothes." He demanded, shoving you forward and causing you to fall to the floor. Your hands were shaky with anticipation as you unclasped your cloak and began pulling at your dress. It was fastened tightly, it was taking a long time. Ramsay was growing impatient as he grabbed the same knife that had plunged into his father's chest that evening. He brought the knife to your back and sliced the back of the dress open.

You felt pain as you realized he had also slashed the skin on your back quite deeply while cutting the cloth. You felt the warmth of blood begin trickling out of your fresh wound. Ramsay didn't care, jerking the dress open fully with his hands until it fell to the floor. Ramsay had the devil in his eyes as he turned you around, meeting your gaze. He flashed his teeth before he sunk them into your shoulder. You moaned as Ramsay began to suck on your skin, leaving dark bruises in his path.

He pushed you down on the bed, stomach down and face first. He yanked his own clothing off before he mounted you, spitting on his hard cock before shoving it deep inside you. As soon as his cock entered you, you felt his fingers at your back wound. He pressed his fingers into the deep cut, causing you to scream out in pain. Ramsay growled as he began thrusting hard, you know he enjoyed to hear you in pain. He leaned forward and bit your wound, pulling even more screams from your lungs. Your eyes swelled with tears as he applied more pressure to your open skin.

Even with the pain you were enduring, you tilted your hips slightly to allow Ramsay full access into you. He groaned when you did so, the slight angle allowing him to slide in with more ease. "That's a good girl... I've trained you so well." He moaned as he stayed leaned forward, his teeth leaving throbbing marks on your upper back. One of his hands found your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your neck to bend so you could look at him upside-down.

His pace slowed as he leaned closer to your ear. His face had your blood on it from kissing your wounded back. He gently whispered to you, "Do you remember our first night together? You fought me so hard... and now, your cunt is soaking wet with the thought of me abusing you, isn't it? You're so good." He purred. You couldn't deny him, moaning in agreement. He yanked on your hair even more, your neck unable to bend back any further, as he let go of your hair and wrapped his arm around your neck. Your chin rested in the crook of his elbow as he squeezed, growling in your ear as he choked you relentlessly. You attempted to whine, but only wheezes came out as you felt yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

You immediately knew you had passed out. You sucked in air as you felt reality seep back in, Ramsay still fucking you without yield. You were dizzy as Ramsay flipped you over, your body obeying him like a rag doll. You looked at your husbands face, he had wiped the blood off of himself. Ramsay's lips tightened as he reached his hand out and slapped you across the face with all of his force. The single stinging slap was enough to nearly knock you unconscious again.

You felt your eyes rattling in your skull as you focused on Ramsay, his hand pulled back so he could swing again. Before he could, you reached up and gripped his throat with both of your hands. He grinned, "There you go!" He growled. He grabbed you tightly and flipped the both of you over once more, so you were on top of him. His hair flopped on the bed and he looked up at you. "I made you mine. Now, make me yours." His eyebrows raised when you hesitated.

You leaned forward, putting all of your weight onto his throat. His eyes slightly bulged as he smiled, "Hit me." He wheezed. You pulled your hand back and slapped him with all the strength you had. His smile didn't fade as his eyes fluttered. You pulled back again, forming a fist this time. You landed your punch on his cheekbone, he moaned with sadistic satisfaction. You didn't ease up, your body was bubbling over with leftover anger from how he had treated you, sudden bursts of power, and an uncontrollable urge to hurt him.

You kept throwing punches at your new husband's gorgeous face, kissing each of his cheekbones with flowering bruises. He never stopped grinning as he absorbed your blows. You leaned forward to choke him again, not letting go. Ramsay's eyes slid backwards as he fell unconscious just as you had. The monster within him fell silent as his head fell limply to the side. You paused as you realized he was knocked out, his cock still hard inside you. You rocked back and forth, wanting your pleasure to continue. Ramsay had used you, couldn't you use him in return?

You slid your body up and down on his cock, peering at his face every few moments to see if he was waking back up. You felt powerful, but nothing in you wanted to leave him. You could've gotten up and left him forever but instead you leaned forward, pressing your bare chest against his as you bucked your hips up and down on his cock. You felt the warmth growing in your core as you reached down to rub yourself as he slid in and out of you at your own perfect pace. You started to teeter on the edge of an orgasm when you saw his eyes flicker back to life. He grinned, watching you bring yourself to climax on his cock. You erupted, quivering and moaning as your body rode out the wave on him. He lay there, his arms behind his head and grinning, admiring his wife's orgasmic bliss.

You slowly came down from your orgasm as you laughed, sliding your body off of Ramsay. "My Lord, that was-" You had barely lifted yourself off of him before he grabbed your throat once again, slamming you backwards into the bed. "You think I am finished with you? I didn't get to come yet, my love! You'd be quite selfish if you didn't allow your husband to finish on his wedding night, don't you think?" He purred as he inserted himself back into your soaking slit, forcing your back into the bed. Your back ached as you remembered your wound, now being scratched against the blankets once more.

Ramsay choked you hard with both of his hands as he fucked you, knocking you unconscious once again. This time, you knew it was for a long period of time. You woke to find your husband sleeping at your side, and your body leaking his seed. You groaned as you saw the welts across your chest from his bites, your wounded back had crusted itself to the covers as you peeled yourself upright. Your body was screaming with agony as you turned sideways to lay within the crescent shape of your husbands body.

You prayed to the Gods that night. You prayed that you were pregnant with Ramsay's son. You prayed that he wouldn't hurt you through the night. You prayed for a happy marriage and for Ramsay to love you as much as you felt yourself growing to love him, regardless of the things he did to you. You prayed a second time to be pregnant with an heir. You didn't want to to disappoint your husband and the sooner you could provide him an heir, the happier he would be. You drifted off to sleep, your body screaming for help but your mind in a blissful state of attachment. You officially belonged to Ramsay. You smiled, allowing the screams from your body to be silenced by your husbands gentle snoring.

Chapter Eight

#game of thrones #ramsaybolton #ramsayboltonsmut #got #ramsay bolton #smut #ramsay snow #ramsey bolton #ramsey snow #asoiaf smut #asoiaf one shot #one shot #ramsay bolton x reader #house bolton #house bolton smut #roose bolton #reek #reek asoiaf #theon greyjoy

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shotgunbunny · 2 years ago

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Hello! how about Sherlock getting jealous of the man the reader is spending time with and his deduction skills go out the window so he doesn't realize they aren't romantically involved 👀

═๑♡𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧♡๑═

WC:1.3k+ GIF by strdstpixie

{srry I got way too carried away in this little plot and I hope you like it anon even though I got side tracked}

{Warnings!! The most fluff!! The love language of flowers!! Literally just heartwarming!!}

♡being engaged to Sherlock could be hard sometimes. He was the most sought after bachelor before he met you when suddenly, he was ready to give his life to you.

♡Sherlock fans would often send you rude mail and menacing glares. Yet Sherlock would always tell you to ignore them.

♡Yet how could you ignore them when you got them everywhere. With Sherlock always at work, you decided to confide in your closest friend: Max.

♡You had grown up with Max and he was your dearest friend. He never upset you and often supported your ideas, he was truly lovely. Yet you both never saw each other in a romantic light.

♡One morning, after you had woken up alone due to Sherlock going to work. You decided to go and visit Max and see how he was doing as he was currently trying to woo a woman.

♡When you got there you were immediately encased in a hug and Max dragging you down the streets of London to go shopping while he spoke about how he was going to find the perfect bouquet of flowers to woo his lady.

♡As you were both strolling down the market with your arms linked, you felt eyes watching you. No doubt the folks that detested you for stealing Sherlock from his work.

♡When you turned to look you were shocked to see, Sherlock and Ebola stood there. Enola was talking to him yet he had his eyes dead set on you. You could see his jaw tighten and his hands crumple into fists.

♡You felt your heart race, Sherlock had never been angry, let alone angry at you which is why you were so nervous to see him angry now.

♡Max pulled your arm and dragged your attention away from your fiance babbling excitedly about seeing the perfect bouquet.

♡As you stood next to Max as he was looking at the variety of flowers, you heard the familiar voice of Enola grow closer.

♡Before you could even turn to see the girl, a hard chest was pressed against your back and an arm wrapped around your waist making you gasp. You turned and there was Sherlock.

♡He wasn't glaring at you, rather at Max. He jaw still clenched. You squeezed his bicep and he focused his attention on you. You raised an eyebrow at him.

♡Max turned his attention to you both and Sherlock spoke, "Dove, come on we must return home. We must continue planning our wedding. Enola had a few ideas."

♡You looked at him shocked, "My darling, can it not wait? I am busy here trying to help my friend."

♡"My dear, I do not care if he is your friend, I am your fiance and I require your attention more than him."

♡You glared at him, "Sherlock how hypocritical of you. You never pay me any attention so why should I give you any? If you are going to let your foolish jealousy talk for you then I suggest you stay away from me."

♡Max stared and looped his arm through yours and you continued strolling down the street, all the while Sherlock felt his heart crack.

♡He turned to Enola, "Have I really not shown her how much I adore her? Does she feel that deprived of my presence?"

♡Enola stared at him, placing a hand on her hip before glaring at him, "You are silly dear brother. You often go to work rather than talk to your dear future wife. You haven't even professed your love for her you stupid man."

♡Sherlocks eyes widened, "Help me Enola, help me fix my wrong."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡It had been a day since you had seen Sherlock and you felt your heart ache a fraction over not seeing him.

♡Max had been wonderful and allowed you to stay at his house for the night where finally revealed he was trying to woo Lady Ristunberg.

♡You were awoken by a knock at the door. You grabbed a night coat and sorted yourself out so you looked mildly decent and opened the door.

♡Your heart hammered at seeing Sherlock stood there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

♡"Sherlock? What are you going here? It's so early." You stared at his beautiful puppy dog eyes and how he was starting to get eye bags. "Have you slept?"

♡He stared at you, "I have not my lady. You see I require you to be happy with me so that then I can sleep peacefully. And due to the fact you are not, I have not slept and have dedicated the night to searching for ways to prove my love for you."

♡You stared at him and then at the flowers in his hand. "Will you give me a minute to change so that then we may return home?"

♡A sigh left his lips, and he nodded relieved.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡When you arrived back with Sherlock hiding in your shadow, you were surprised to find the flat organised.

♡You watched as Sherlock walked past you and handed you 5 books. All the books that you had given him to read while he was trying to court you.

♡"What is this Sherlock?" He walked over to you and took the first book you ever gave him from your hands.

♡He opened the book and flicked to a page where a flower rested. A pink camellia. You looked at him, "A pink camellia. It symbolises longing. The first book you ever gave me when I was courting you. I marked the pages with how I longed for your love."

♡He took the second book, and there rested a blue salvia. "The second book, where you started to slowly give in to my advances. And then the first time I heard your laugh, your cute little giggle. I marked it that day with a blue salvia, it means thinking of you. I thought about the beauty of your voice for days on end."

♡The next book was taken and the next flower shown, a pink rose. "Happiness. A pink rose is happiness because everything you did, you do, makes me happy."

♡You felt tears gather in your eyes, as the fourth book opened and there was a red rose. He smiled shakily, "The day you agreed to court me I marked it with a red rose. It means I love you. Truly my heart belong only to you."

♡You felt a few tears slip at finally hearing those words. Sherlock leaned forward and wiped your tears before he took the last book from your hands and opened it.

♡Held between his fingers was a red flower, he handed it to you and you took it before staring at him. "A red salvia."

♡"What does it mean?" Your voice was so soft.

♡He chuckled, "It means forever mine. The day you agreed to marry me, you were forever mine. But the day you first spoke to me, I was forever yours. You held my heart before you even knew it. I know I am a hard man but my love,"

♡You watched as he got on he knees infront of you and stared up. You placed the flower on the side close to you, and put your hands on his face.

♡"I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I am thankful to be near you. I adore you, and though I am terrible at showing it, I hope you know that I truly mean it."

♡You got on your knees and kisses Sherlock embracing the overwhelming amount of love that was in the room.

♡When you both pulled away, you placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You felt him take your small hand in his and you smiled.

♡"I love you too Sherlock Holmes so very much, all I ask is that you come home and spend time with me more."

♡"My dearest dove, I promise you I will. I will make sure you wake up drowning in my love. And then when your Mrs. Holmes you will carry our love." He chuckled and you blushed.

♡"You were quite attractive jealous though I must admit."

♡A laugh echoed around the room and he pulled you up against him and he dragged you to the bedroom. "Well then I must admit you're quite attractive covered in my marks."

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elvisabutler · 2 years ago

Text

she's there watching for me

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 2593 warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). insecurity regarding weight. the word fat being used in the narrative. implied breastfeeding kink. light sub elvis. mommy kink. light dom reader. implication that elvis is girthier than normal when he hasn't had release in a while. brief mention of pills/detoxing. elvis is a selkie. bit of fingering. use of the words mama and baby boy. a hefty chunk of belly worship. author’s note: welcome to day 3 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, mommy kink with selkie elvis presley x reader. so for context i feel like i need to make it clear, so the original selkie au i wrote was set pretty much in a timeframe of about 1971 to 1973. basically allowed y'all to read it and decide which age you wanted elvis at. i erred more toward '73 in my mind mostly because that was pretty close to 40 and i had made the comment in the fic about him being surprised he got that close to forty. that being said, this means the more time that passed in the universe the closer i was getting to 1977. i— have never intended this to have a sad ending. honestly if y'all must know out of all the series i've inadvertently written, this has the most gentle ending other than spark for elvis as far as when he eventually dies. so this takes place in an alternate 1978 where elvis is still alive and is about big daddy build. there is also a hint to the future breastfeeding kink fill and a little surprise in here. know that— the fact that a certain name does not have the middle name attached to it is important. also if you have no idea what this series/verse is, the masterlist is right here. beyond that long winded author's note, special thanks to @stylespresleyhearted and @eliseinmemphis for being my feral little gremlins. to @prompted-wordsmith for being seal!!! always and to my discord wives, birdy, christi and marina, y'all know i love you till the end of time. also once again, i really do love how y'all liked this and received it and live to see your thoughts on my writing.

"Mama." A sleepy murmur leaves Elvis's lips, a pout firmly planted on them as he feels your side of the bed. It's empty and starting to chill, a common occurrence when you're not occupying it. You always forget that he's a bit of a light sleeper until a certain hour of the night when you think his brain and body finally shut off. That hour of the night was at least two hours away but you were for once experiencing your own sleeping issues caused by one Lisa Marie, one John Baron and one little Jesse. A bit of a bug had found itself circulating around the younger three in the house and you found yourself taking care of your little seal pups. After all you were if nothing else, a good seal wife. A good seal wife who happens to be sneaking into your own bedroom like a guilty woman.

"You should have already been sleeping. Didn't you keep telling me how exhausted you were?" You ask, sliding into bed next to Elvis, your hand cupping his face. "I think you dozed off on the way home from the concert."

Elvis can't help but flush a bit in embarrassment as he looks at you, trying to come up with some excuse. "Can't— Feel all keyed up...ya know how I get 'fter a show. Can't go swimmin' to burn it off." He licks his lips, watching the way your chest moves up and down in your nightgown, "jus' worried 'bout how the paper's gonna talk 'bout me."

"It's Memphis, Elvis. They're not going to talk about you like everyone else, you're their son. Honorary King of the city," your hands move to his front, brushing against his stomach, marveling at the feel of the silk of his pajama top and how it reminds you of his skin. "That why you're wearing a shirt to bed? Hiding it away from me?"

It meaning his stomach. Elvis looks away and shrugs. "Mama— don't. I know 'm still packin' on some weight." He had thought when he met you it was just his body betraying him, trying to blubber up like a true seal and it had fluctuated enough as you helped him sweat out his uppers and his downers and everything that wasn't strictly required. He thought maybe you'd get something resembling the man you met all those years ago.

But you always take such good care of him and he should have realized that when you made sure he was well fed with his pups that his own body— his genetics would rear their head and he'd stay a stocky and fat sort of man no matter what exercise he did. Damn human body seems to think he needs blubber as much as he does as as a seal.

"And? Are we not married? Did I agree to love you no matter what?" Even as you try and answer a little flippantly your eyes dart across his face and his body looking for a tell-tale sign that you pushed too hard with that retort but only see a shrug. "I know my pussy doesn't have your tongue, so Elvis— you want to answer?"

"Yes, Mama," he whispers, shifting in the bed a little at the way your tone shifts from purely loving to one that's just commanding enough that he has to focus on breathing and willing his cock to stay down. You're both exhausted but damn if lil Elvis isn't wanting to bury himself so tight in your snatch that he has no choice but to sleep afterward.

At the word Mama you feel your toes curl just a little bit at how it sounds leaving his lips. It's not the first time he's ever called you Mama, after all, you are the step mother to his daughter and the mother to his sons. There's something in his tone though, something that has your body strumming with what you've affectionately dubbed your seal wife sense that tells you something is off. This is different. "You don't have to call me Mama when we're not talking about the pups, Elvis."

Elvis's tongue darts out to lick at his lips as one of your breasts finally makes an escape from the top of your nightgown. You hear the sharp inhale of his breath before without warning his face burrows into your chest frowning at how they don't feel full of milk and pulling you close as his arms wrap around you. "Ain't callin' ya it 'cause of the pups, Mama."

A shiver passes through you at his hot breath against your chilled chest. He's not just calling you Mama because of the pups. You're— you take care of him as well as anyone would take care of a baby boy, don't you? You make sure his meds are taken, make sure no one takes advantage of him when he doesn't want to bother with particulars. You make sure everything is in tip top shape with him and everyone around you. You're his Mama too, aren't you?

Your words come out a unintentionally a little shaky, your nerves starting to get the best of you before you finally ask a simple question. "Do you want Mama to take care of you? Show you how much she loves you?"

Elvis very rarely sounds like a seal when he's in his human form. He very rarely can make the specific vocalizations he needs to in order to achieve it but sometimes even with his body in his human form, he can manage it. You swear you see a flash of his skin, almost as if he wants to shift before you hear the whimper and whine against your skin in between kisses to your chest. "Please."

Denying Elvis isn't something you're good at since you came back together and especially since you've been married. He is the love of your life, the seal to your seal wife but you need to have the control today, he needs to cede over his control to you for you to take care of him. It's with that knowledge in hand that you push him away from your chest even as you hear a growl and a whine fall from his lips. Your hands push on his chest, forcing him to lay down even as one hand moves to unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest hair to you first and then exposing his stomach— that filled out out swell that tell the story of how you're taking care of him and damn anyone who'd say anything different about it even if you know sometimes his body acts up and makes things twist and turn and hurt him. Your hands run through his chest hair as you move to kiss his lips and down his neck to his chest where you nip at both his nipples earning two short barks of surprise. When you reach his stomach you feel him shift more, his hips bucking just a little as if to distract you and get you to move down to his aching cock that you haven't even touched but is pressing against the bottom of his stomach. Precum starts to smear against the underside of his stomach and he needs you do something to it.

"Did Mama say you could move, baby boy?" You coo as you rub his stomach, hands forcing the silk of the shirt completely away and exposing his bare torso to you. "Let Mama show you how much she loves this. How she has to stop herself from grinding her beaver on it. You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby? Want Mama to come on this big stomach of yours? Have the hair on it all shiny from my come?"

As you talk you feel yourself growing more and more aroused, your underwear quickly becoming drenched despite him not even touching you. You can't help but grind a little against him, leaving a little wet spot where your nightgown and underwear block your body from his. A whimper that almost sounds like an angry growl leaves his mouth as he tries to keep himself from moving. His hands itch to grab your hips, to tear your panties off in a fit of animalistic fervor and bunch up your nightgown so he can sink his cock between your folds and feel just how drenched for him you are. What he does do is move to take off his pants only to have your hand grab at his wrist. "Patience."

"Ya teasin', Mama," he grunts out a warning, trying to act as if he's not cededing all control to you. You aren't focusing where he needs you to and that just won't do. "Gonna come in my pants if ya don't do somethin'. Wanna feel that tight—"

His words are cut off when you use the grip you have on his wrist to bring his hand to between your legs, his fingers easily gliding into your glistening cunt. The only thing that leaves his mouth is a groan of pleasure, his head falling back as he allows himself to play with your clit. You don't stop him.

"So needy, my baby boy." You tease as you maneuver to take off his pants, pulling them down just enough that you can hear the smear of his cock against his stomach. Hear how he's leaking so much already that you won't really even have to prep yourself. You had originally planned to suck at it, to put it in your mouth until it managed to stand at attention but that isn't needed tonight, is it? No, he's ready and aching and throbbing in your hand as you grip it. Your other hand moves to lift up his stomach just enough to fully expose his cock as you slide the foreskin down to reveal it in all its glory. You can't help but lick your lips and clench around Elvis's fingers.

"Christ, Mama." He curses as his cock twitches, begging to be buried inside of you. He pulls out his fingers and moves them to his mouth, watching you with hooded eyes and labored breaths as he sucks on them, tongue taking in every last bit of your juices. His fingers leave his mouth with a pop. "Taste so fuckin' sweet. Please help me out."

"Don't I always?" The words slip from your lips with a smile as Elvis's eyes look up at you through his eyelashes and he gives you the same answering smile. You take a moment to pull yourself on top of him and situate yourself before you sinking down ever so slowly. Your breathing sync up, becoming shorter as you get more and more of his cock inside you. This isn't the first time you've had sex, far from it but it's the first time Elvis has truly given you this much control over what's happening between you. A whisper of his name escapes your lips as you move down to kiss him softly at first before worrying his bottom lip between your teeth. It reminds you of your first kiss with him and from how he shakes underneath you— you think he remembers too. "Baby boy, you're— you feel bigger than normal. You've been needing Mama that bad all night? Got it all pent up inside you?"

He nods, not trusting how his voice is going to sound. Figuring it'd take on a high pitched quality it hasn't had since he was first starting out or even from before then. You might be his Mama and he's your boy that you take care of so well but— he can't let ya hear him like that. Almost as if you sense he's holding back, one of your hands moves to cup his face, brushing your fingers against his sideburns until you reach his hair. You yank just a little at some of the strands and force him to look at you. "Don't— don't hold back for mama. Let it all out, baby boy. It isn't healthy to hold back. Let me hear you while I help lil Elvis feel better."

It's then that the floodgates open, a string of curses and growls and every noise in between leaves Elvis's mouth as you bounce in his lap, clenching your cunt every so often in between bounces. Elvis's own hips can't be contained as he thrusts up against you, earning more than a few shouts from you as you feel him deeper than he ever has been. You know from how keyed up both of you are that neither of you is going to last long, but you don't want Elvis to come before you. No, you want to come on his cock, drenching it with your release before you feel his warm release coating your insides.

"Mama— gonna come. Gotta— gonna burst. Fuckin' beaver so goddamn tight and ya tits just bouncin' like that all empty, can't even suck 'em." His words are practically gibberish but you can't help but huff out a laugh even as you grab his chin and force him to look at you, his pupils blown, lips shiny with spit and forehead with a sheen of sweat.

"Not till Mama says. Be a gentleman. Be a good boy for Mama," you practically croon at him even as your voice lilts up just a little. "Mama wants to come on your cock. Can you help Mama do that?"

"Yeah, Mama, I—Wanna help ya. Do so goddamn much for me, let me—" His words get eaten up by your lips on his and the moan you let out against them when his hand moves past his belly and your own to play with your clit, the calluses on them adding just enough friction that you don't even have time to warn Elvis before your orgasm comes, your pussy squeezing his cock tighter than it ever has as your release covers his fingers and his cock. You haven't felt the warmth of his come yet, though, and you know he's being good. Being the best boy he could be for the best mama he thinks you are. You struggle to catch your breath but manage to say one word.

"Please."

Somehow he knows what you mean by the word. Somehow he knows it's you giving him permission to finally come and release every bit of tension and insecurity that's kept him up tonight. He comes with a roar— or maybe it's a bark, but all you know is that it sounds so animalistic that it had to have done something good. It had to have achieved something for him just from how you see his head flop back against the pillow as you watch his chest and belly rise and fall with deep breaths.

After what feels like a lifetime you manage to get up and use the bathroom, grabbing a warm washcloth on your way out to try and clean up the mess between you two. Elvis practically looks like he's passed out as you clean up his cock, marveling at how it twitches just a little in your grasp— almost as if to say it wants another round. When you finally slide under the covers, you feel Elvis shift beside you and pull you closer to him, to where your head is over his chest. You can hear the steady but still quick beats of his heart.

"Thank you, Mama."

That whispered bit of thanks puts a small smile on your face. "Any time for my baby boy."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7 @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @elirobin, @goldieharry. wanna be added to the taglist? go here and follow the directions. if i tagged you in this and you didn't want to be, give me a heads up/clarify what you really really don't wanna be tagged for. also if the tags messed up i'm sorry i hate tumblr sometimes because of it.

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfiction #austin butler elvis #austin butler elvis presley #austin elvis #austin elvis x reader #austin butler elvis x reader #ally writes #ally's wet hot smut summer #selkie!elvis

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