#well he may had set his hair on fire

[bibannana]

Rex *walking into the barricks that are filled with smoke*: Why does it smell like smoke in here?

*Jesse, Tup and Hardcase making a human wall*

Dogma *terrible liar*: Smoke sir? Haha, what smoke?

Rex *raises an eyebrow*

Echo *jumping in*: Oh the smoke! Ah yes.......Fives was thinking.

Rex *unimpressed look*: Really?

Echo *nods*: Yes. It's a bit too much for his half a brain cell to process.

Fives *muffled*: Hey!

Kix *angry whispering*: Stay still you kriffing di'kut!

Rex *deep inhale, long exhale*: Right.

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

HOLY SHOWER

Summary: After an exhausting day, you finally wanted to take a shower, but the water stopped running in your apartment, so you decided to go to your neighbor for help. But you got more than help.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, overstimulation, unprotected sex (piv), shower sex, more rounds

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You came home from work, exhausted and tired. Today was probably the worst day at work, the boss yelled at you, you almost got fired and you destroyed your clothes by spilling your coffee all over it, great. The only thing you wanted right now was a warm shower that would help you release all this negative chakras and relax.

On the way to the shower, you were already planning in your head how you're going to spend the rest of the evening, making popcorn and watching your favorite series while the vanilla-flavored candles were lit around. You'll only be wearing an oversized t-shirt and rabbit slippers that your moronic neighbor Wade Wilson bought you, after he almost set your flat on fire as part of his fight with some villian.

Wade is not a normal neighbor who occasionally throws parties and fucks with whores. He does this too, but he's really special. If you had to describe him in three words it would be a jerk, a narcissist and a wretch, but sometimes he's also nice, you have to admit that.

After you finally get out of your coffee-stained clothes, you threw them in the washing machine and went directly to the bathroom, naked. Opening the shower door, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Now, only well-being and relaxation begin, you may even practice yoga and meditate if you'll be sufficiently relaxed and full of energy. Just the thought encouraged you further and when you closed the shower door behind you, nothing and no one could stop you.

You turned on the hot water switch and took the citrus scented shower gel in your hand, you were about to squirt some on your palm when you realized the water didn't start running.

,,That's…weird” you said to yourself and reached for the cold water switch. Nothing. Not a drop came out and you were slowly starting to get furious inside. You reached for both switches at once and turned them to full power, but still nothing. You really held on, every nerve in your body was ticking not to explode but it happened anyway.

"Fuck!" you scream across the whole apartment and drop your head in your hands. This was something you had been looking forward to all day, you dreamed about it at work and the idea of ​​warm water running down your naked body was discouraging you from having a mental breakdown in the bathroom. The shower was your reason to get through the day and they're going to take it away from you like that? Fuck no.

You weren't going to just give up, the feeling of lukewarm water cleansing your body and your darkest thoughts, right now you need it more than anything in the world.

A light bulb went on in your head and you were out of the bathroom in no time. You quickly threw on an oversized white shirt, didn't even care that you’re not wearing anything under it, and went forward. Your face was focused on only one goal, Wade.

He's a devious bastard who's tried it on you countless times, but right now you're at the stage where you're even able to sleep with him just so you can indulge in that holy shower.

You knocked on the door right next to your apartment and waited for an answer. You started to be a little suspicious, because the apartment was truly gravely silent, but the creaking of the door interrupted your assumptions about what it might be. You took a deep breath and were ready to blurt out everything that had happened and convince Wade to let you take a shower at his place, but your words got stuck in your throat when Wade wasn't standing in the doorway.

Instead, there was standing a tall, old muscular man with a brown beard and sideburns, his hair was in the shape of beast ears and he had a stern expression on his face that immediately caught your attention. Wearing a white tank top that beautifully highlighted his body underneath and most importantly, showed off his shoulders which were way more massive than your thighs. You swallowed loudly in fear and blinked a few times to bring yourself back.

"Um hi! Is Wade here?"you asked and no matter how hard you tried, your voice was quiet and shaky, the guy definitely had to sense that you were so fucking nervous.

"Who's asking?" a deep grainy voice answered you with a question and leaned against the doorframe, as he crossed his hands on his chest, making his biceps pop out. He was really manipulating you with them, you had an incredible urge to stare at them and your brain was already automatically creating a million scenarios of what you wanted him to do to you with those hands. Luckily you were still somewhat conscious and didn't let your dirty toughts take over you.

"I am his neighbor...right next door" you pointed your head to your apartment, trying to keep your smile on your face. That man slowly looks at the direction you pointed, then looked back at you. "Wade's not home right now” his stern voice made you flinch every time you heard it, because it sounded like you just killed his parents and now you're going to pay hell for it.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded a few times. "Oh...okay well, when he comes back tell him I was there" you smiled again, hoping your smile would soften him up a bit, but you're too naive for even thinking this would work.

He was just looking at you, no response, not even a tiny movement of his face, nothing. You probably understood that you should finally get the fuck out of his face, and that was what you had planned. You turned on your tiptoes and walked back to your apartment, but he stopped you in your way there.

"Hey!" You immediately turned to face him.

"What do you want from him?" his biceps still hypnotizing you.

"My water stopped flowing and I really really need to take a shower" you put on a cute-innocent expression and your tone sounded so convincing that even a kidnapper, who was going to cut your throat, would let you take a shower.

He looked like he thought whether or not to let you in, even though he already knew his verdict long ago. "Come in" he nodded and disappeared in the apartment, thinking you were following him and you really did.

You were so grateful and happy that you would blow this man right here right now, not just because he was ridiculously handsome, but also as a thank you gift.

You closed the door behind you and the man made himself comfortable on the couch, a loud groan came out of him as he dropped himself there, making you feel that weird burning feeling in your lower stomach.

Although you knew Wade’s apartment layout even with your eyes closed, you still found it a bit inhospitable that man didn't even tell you where the bathroom is, but you didn't worry about it for too long. After all, you're not here to teach that grandpa good manners, you're only here for the shower.

You were almost headed to the bathroom, but something stopped you in your tracks. Thirst. Your apartment has no water and god knows how long it won't work and since it's quite late at night, all the shops here will be probably already closed.

You had to take your chance, that's why you backed into the kitchen and looked at him subtly. "Um, could I have a glass of water?" you asked politely. You only got an annoyed look and a stiff nod as response. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen.

You swallowed the water as if you had just been in the desert for few days, even that bastard noticed it too, but he didn't say anything.

"And um...you're Wade's partner?" "Fuck no" you wanted to start a conversation, get to know the stranger a bit, but this was probably not a good start. He looked disgusted, just thinking about it. "I'm his roomate, Logan" you finally got to know something about him and it wasn't just one thing, but even two. Wow, you're moving somewhere.

"Ah, nice to meet you" you said with a smile and poured yourself another glass of water which you drink like an animal. Logan just stared at you, scanning you and sensing that you were only wearing a light white fabric and literally nothing underneath it. Quite risky, he thought.

"And you're name?" he finally continued the conversation and you couldn't help but smile even more. Maybe you softened the grump a bit after all.

,,Y/N...” you fizz looking at Logan who just nodded and looked away. You felt it was time to finally indulge in what you were here for. Without another word you therefore went to bathroom, ripped off your shirt in one graceful motion and stomped into the shower, but you couldn't ignore the smell that clearly screamed Wade was touching himself here. Whatever.

Trying to ignore the smell, you reached for the hot water switch. The water finally touched your naked skin and you threw your head back, nearly blinding yourself with the hot water. After a while it started burning, so you reached for the cold switch, but it got stuck.

You tried to turn it with all your strenght, but nothing. So you quickly turned off the hot water and decided to ask Logan for help. After all, he has much bigger muscles than you, he will definitely be able to turn it on.

You didn't even bother drying off, you just threw your white shirt back on and went straight to Logan. When you stood next to the couch and waited for him to look at you, he wasn't just looking at you, he was admiring you.

You didn't realize that you were all wet and the white shirt was wet too, stuck to your body and practically transparent, revealing everything. Logan surprisingly cleared his throat and stopped breathing for a moment but still with the stern expression.

"Would you please help me with the shower? The switch is stuck and I can't turn it on" you beg, having no idea that your shirt is pointless to even wear at this moment.

Logan didn't take in a word you just said, he looked away from your body to your face and just stared. So you repeated your request to him and he instantly nodded in agreement. You were a little surprised that he was suddenly so active, but you didn't complain.

Logan quickly got up and went to the bathroom without giving any sign of being annoyed by your request. You walked right behind him, his whiskey scent tickled your olfactory cells.

When you entered the bathroom, you ran ahead of Logan to show him exactly where the problem was. "Here...s-see?" you struggle as you tried to turn on the cold water, but again, no avail. Logan just quietly took over the switch and effortlessly turned on the cold water, like it was nothing.

You laugh from the excitement of finally being able to enjoy a shower. But the thing was that the cold water was not only flowing on you, but also on Logan. His previously dry white tank top that covered his divine body was no longer dry and is definitely no longer covering anything. You looked at each other, your smile fade away in a second.

Your gaze locked on his body. His hairy body, developed and veined, his abs looked so eatable, so does his arms and boobs. His hair was damp, he looked irresistible and you fought your demons not to jump on him like an animal.

You, on the other hand, were practically naked in front of Logan and he hadn't seen such a beautiful woman with a beautiful body in a long time. The way the water drops ran down your neck, under your wet t-shirt, around your chest to your stomach, this was the end for Logan.

Without any warning, he pounced on you like a beast, cupping your cheeks with his big hands, almost surrounding your entire face. You automatically joined in and cooperated, wrapping your arms around his veiny neck and just gently digging into him with your fingernails.

Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues fight with each other for dominance, sure thing that Logan won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what it can do to you.

Logan couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your shirt and took it off pretty briskly, even though it was practically useless. But he didn't leave you alone and took off his tank top too. You broke the kiss just to see the treasure he offers. Naturally, you reached for him and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught your breath.

,,You like it?” he asked hurriedly and smiled as he saw your shocked face. For someone who is really truly old, he's not bad at all. You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination makes a total waterfall between your legs.

He was holding you by your weist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. That itself make his erection begging to finally free him from those thigh boxers, what really keeps him trapped.

He didn't wait for another sound of yours and quickly started unbuckling his pants, his clumsy hands tried to take them off as quickly as possible and you tried to help him. Your hands touched, but there was no time for romance, his growls and your sighs said it all.

When you finally managed to unzip Logan's pants as part of your cooperation, they were on the floor next to the shower in no time, along with his black boxers. His dick sprang free, making a slappy sound as it hits his belly. You needed a moment to adore his little friend, and your eyes widened from his length. How can he even walk around with this thing?

He chuckled as he watched your surprised face once more, and got your attention by grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. "My face's right here, sweatheart" you melt at his words, his tone not as stern as it used to be just moments ago and his eyes...fuck his eyes were full of lust and desire just for you.

The rules have changed a bit, the shower is no longer what you longed for and can't live for, now it's Logan. You need him badly, like breathing or eating, you need him so badly that your knees almost start to buckle in desperation and Logan knew it and sensed it.

After all, he needed you just as much as you needed him. So he decided not to delay any longer and pinned you to the wall, the shower still continued with a flow of cold water that smoothed you at least a little, but still, you were burning with arousal and passion.

He glued his lips to yours again, his body was just as glued and his cock was poking you in your inner tight, unintentionally provoked your wet folds by moving his hips to feel at least a little friction. Of course, this movement made your neck make noises you didn't even know existed.

"I won't last long with you bub" Logan mumbled between kisses but he continued with both his movements and his uncontrollable kissing and biting of your numb lips. His wolfish voice excited you whenever you heard it and your legs were already shaking with anticipation.

Logan's tip started leaking with precum and this was a clear sign for him that he should finally fuck you like you deserved.

Before you could blink, he grabbed you by the neck, but not too hard to hurt you, but not too loose to not have control over you. He found the perfect center that suited both you and him and at that moment, he began to slide it into you.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes shut tightly as you felt his tip stretching your throbbing core. Logan growled, his face pinched but his eyes open to see your pleasing face. Oh he will remember this face for the rest of his life.

He was already fully in, fitting in perfectly as if you two were just meant for each other. Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you had the opportunity to open your eyes for a moment and admire his wet head. How the drops slowly ran down his face, down his whole body, it was so fucking hot.

After a while, when you started getting impatient and get used to his length, you started moving your hips, just a tiny moves, but Logan knew damn well you were ready for more. That's why he helped you a little by pulling out and pushing back his member into you, making you whine his name out loud.

It was peaceful steady movements, he played with you like a toy and you marveled at it. Your eyes were opened and you were holding eye contact with Logan the whole time. Every time he pushes into you, he squishes his nose and hisses and he does that again anytime he pulls out of you.

It was pain but also a thrill for him going so incredibly slow, but both of you enjoyed it like nothing else. The thing was that you were insatiable barbarians who kept wanting more and more. Logan decided to indulge both of you.

He let go of your neck, leaving big red marks and fingerprints there and moved his strong hands to your hips. He needed to keep you in a place, because what was going to happen wasn't for some weaklings.

You looked at him with hope and curiosity of what was going to happen, and you found out really soon. Without any warning or hesitation, Logan started thrusting into you with no mercy. Now this was exactly what you needed.

His animal awoke in him, his teeth clenched as his balls was slapping against your ass. It all makes easier the running water, which served as a natural lubricant, keeping you both still wet, even though you didn't really need it.

He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it. Your hands were tightly glued to his back, your nails digging deep into his flesh but it was just a tiny, hardly felt pinch for him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Logan was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. The moment you knew you loose it completely, was when he grabbed you by your ass and lifted you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist and you weren't touching the ground. In this position, he easily found your g-spot and he was hitting it with rage and passion, sending you straight to your orgasm.

But Logan wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

He snarled like a beast, watching the part where your bodies connected, being so desperate to cum inside you, filling you up so that his sperm would drop out of you. You were already losing your senses, your eyes rolled back and you make a really long and deep bloody lines on Logan's back by your sharp nails, as you were really close.

,,Logan I-" you wanted to warn him, to inform him but it was useless, because before you could finish your sentence, you clench tightly around his member, your lower body started vibrating and the pleasant feeling of relief finally flooded you all over.

Your juice started dropping on the floor and you tried to catch your breath and gain your senses back, but Logan was still going in his full speed and strength. He was really frantic trying to catch up his orgasm, which he succeeded in after a few strong and wild thrusts.

The last one was the strongest and loudest one, he screamed really loudly, not caring if Wade was already home or not, the most juiciest and the most deepest.

The only sounds in the bathroom now were your heavy breathing and the steady flow of water that didn't stop. You felt dizzy, overstimulated, but the feeling of pleasure and relief was irreplaceable. Logan felt the same as you, although he didn't see twice unlike you, but this was an unforgettable experience for him. But he didn't want to stop yet.

"You ready for round two?" he asked, keep trying to catch his breath. This question woke you up like a slap in the morning and you looked at him with wide eyes. He was serious, he meant it and you were speechless. Although you were tired, you knew that the moment Logan will let you on your feet you wouldn't keep your balance, but of course you wanted a second round.

Logan waited impatiently for your answer and when you nodded your head, it warmed your heart to see a sparkle in his eyes. Immediately, his lips were on yours again, his dick that never leave your insideness started moving again, heating you up and creating another arousal.

The overstimulation was insane, you knew you would cum soon again and it made you feel a little embarassing, but Logan was on the same boat as you. His balls were so full that he could explode at any time, he needed to empty himself inside you.

He was starting to pick up his pace and speed again and before long you were in the same situation as few minutes ago, his hips thrusting into you with no limit, you mercilessly destroying Logan's back and praying your pelvis won't crack.

If he could, he would have turned you around and fucked you from behind like a brute, but he could feel your legs being weak and practically non-functional, so he held you tightly around his waist and continued in a position that soon brought you both to your second orgasm.

You both whimpered and wailed as you struggled to fill your lungs with oxygen. Logan was still full of energy but you're only human and when a beast like Wolverine jumps at you, there's no way you'll end up in better condition than him.

After you finally breathe normally and calmly, Logan started laughing out the two powerful orgasms and dropped his forehead to yours. You joined him and you both laughed like idiots while you were still inside each other and the freezing water was pouring over you.

Wade is going to be really surprised when his water bill comes.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[tsukimefuku]

3rd of july ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ nanami kento

piece written in collaboration with my beloved friend and one of my favorite people, @rahuratna, for nanami's (a.k.a. internet's collective husbando) birthday. 💜🧡 content warning: fluff/comedy/sugestiveness word count: 1k

Nanami wasn't one to make big celebrations on his birthday. Up until he met you, he'd usually go about his work day quietly, saving up a few extra hours to simply go bowling or visit his favorite restaurants for dinner.

After you both started dating, not much had changed. You'd simply tag along for whatever he had planned, and would usually surprise him with something by the time you both got home - a box of dark chocolate, a new set of lingerie, a nice warm scented bath, a new CD album he had been looking for.

This time, however, you decided to push your luck on teasing the poor man.

On his birthday, of all days.

"Kento, how do you feel about surprise parties?" you ask, hiding the smile pulled on your cheeks behind your tea cup.

On the couch by your side, you could feel Nanami holding the urge to flinch the moment you were finished speaking.

"They are not my favorite," he answers in earnest.

"Seriously?" you inquire with a faux disheartened look.

"Yes," Nanami replies, with a tinge of concern to his voice.

"That is... unfortunate, then," you ensue, putting your tea on the coffee table and pulling your robe tighter around your body.

His Adam's apple bobs as he silently gulps.

"Why?"

"Well, my plan was to surprise you when you got home, but I figured you wouldn't want to get instantly jumped. So I told them to wait in the room," you finally say, with a grave finality, pointing to the closed bedroom door.

Truth is, he has no clue what you are really up to.

"Darling…" Nanami sighs, ever so patiently, "I thought it would just be the both of us unwinding, like the past years."

"I… I'm sorry, I really wanted to surprise you with something different this time."

You do sound regretful, and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek in response. Even now, he doesn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed at you, even if the prospect of Gojo lurking around his bedroom is enough to send disgusted shivers down his spine.

"It's… fine. Let's get this over with at once, and then have the house to ourselves."

"Are you sure? I could always go in there and tell them to-"

"No," he counters firmly. "You've arranged something a little different this year, and I'm going to appreciate it."

"Come on, then."

As perceptive as he is, Nanami doesn't notice the mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Naturally, since you have successfully planted a seed in his mind, a terrifying image of his pristine suits being tried on by students and his custom made bowling ball being transformed into a disco light by the white-haired menace he calls a colleague.

When you reach the door and step aside for him, he visibly braces himself, fingers almost straightening a phantom tie at his throat.

"Sweetheart, I need to go and fetch a scarf. It's a little chilly in here."

Bless his heart. He's actually playing along.

You raise your voice.

"Oh, I left the blue one on the top shelf. Your closet."

"Right."

Nanami heads in with the air of a man charging from the trenches to face a volley of cannon fire. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes taking in the room.

It is empty of people, for starters.

The comforter on the bed has been pulled back, the white sheets scattered with rose petals. Candles have been placed strategically on the bedside table and vanity, emitting the subtle scent of the ocean. On a corner of the bed, a few ribbon-wrapped gifts await; a small stack of books and a box of his favourite dark chocolate with orange.

You saunter in behind him and he turns to you with a look that is both a solemn reprimand and a loving promise of a punishment you may appreciate later.

"Hmm. It's awfully crowded in here, my dear."

"Well, the rose petals were quite chatty, Kento. They've taken up all the space on our bed."

"They have indeed, you little-"

You laugh as you slip out of his reach, standing coyly in the doorway.

"Have a look at your gifts first."

He narrows his eyes, but approaches the bed, fingers unraveling the ribbon that holds the books together.

"What do we have here? 'The Master and Margarita.' Ah, wonderful. 'Bowling your way home: A salaryman's escape from bondage.'"

He pauses and raises an eyebrow and you gesture airily for him to keep going.

"Fine. What's this one? The-"

His voice cuts off abruptly.

"Kento? Are you all right?"

Very slowly, he turns to you.

"You got me the Kama Sutra?"

"I figured it would make a nice addition to your collection. I may even borrow it, from time to time."

You approach him now, casually opening the book to where you've placed a strategic leather marker within the section on sex positions.

"Since it's your birthday, maybe you'd like to start with the Virsha here?"

He considers the page seriously, before taking the book from you and flipping through it.

"I'm not sure, darling. You've put in enough effort setting all of this up."

Handing it back to you, he watches the flush that spreads upwards, across your neck as you are presented with the Indrani pose he has chosen instead.

"How about you let me do the work from here on out?"

"Well... "

"No, I insist."

His voice has that special intonation now, the husky rumble of desire, the inflection of hushed intimacy, the promise of that playful nature that only reveals itself when you're entangled in the sheets together.

You lay the book down, open to the very instructive illustration.

"In that case, let me present you with my last gift."

"There's another?"

Wordlessly, the robe you've been so studiously arranging around yourself slides to the floor. His kindling gaze takes in the sheer, violet lace, the tiny flowers embroidered strategically over the parts of you that he will discover at leisure.

***

Later, when the gossamer material lies discarded on the floor, when his exhausted limbs entwine with your own, when his golden hair runs like silk between your fingers, you speak into the hush of the bedroom.

"Happy birthday, my love."

His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed against your stomach.

"That was quite the surprise party."

"Maybe we should have one every year."

He snorts indignantly, but his lips curve in a smile against your skin all the same.

[hemlock-dreams]

Not me absolutely frothing at the mouth about this AU. Can we get an info dump on the Lore? It's making me want to abandon my current Spideypool WIP for this. Absolutely terminal brainrot for this boy

BEHOLD: MASSIVE LORE DUMP!

Peter B. Parker is a young troublemaker who has a problem with authority. He also has a knack for picking tech apart and putting it back together, which puts him on the radar for a small-time gang that needs someone to act as their alarm system breaker for a big score.

Unfortunately, said score had bad intel and what was supposed to be a simple robbery turns out to be manslaughter when the resulting fire that was supposed to cover up their tracks ends up killing two guards.

Peter is tried as an adult with the rest of the gang and sentenced to Rykers for 5 years.

Check out the full page HERE.

At Rykers, Peter meets Marko Flint, who takes Peter under his wing. and teaches him how to survive and thrive when wearing the orange.

Life goes on for 5 years. He learns the trade, gets some tats, learns how to make some great shivs, and becomes a better criminal all around. Yay prison!

Peter gets out at 21, and reunites with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He does his best to clean up his act, but normal life is hard for someone who spent their formative years in prison.

(He also makes questionable hair and fashion choices. What can I say, he's catching up!)

He goes from job to job, trying to pay back his aunt and uncle for all their support but is completely unequipped for the 'real world.' After a few months working/getting fired from soul-crushing menial jobs (HS dropout!), he agrees to take 'one last job' with Marko that is 'guaranteed to set them up for life'.

*cough*

This robbery goes off without a hitch! No one is hurt and they make off after hitting a heavily armored Oscorp Transport with a ton of documents/tech that they aim to sell to the highest bidder.

The biggest mystery is that one glowing vial of untested, experimental serum they found...

Unfortunately, Oscorp doesn't take robbery lightly. Marko finds out through contacts that the serum (whatever it is) is too hot to sell on the market, so he instructs Peter to get rid of it so it can't be traced back to them.

Peter, a rational 22-year-old ex-con, 'gets rid of it' by mixing the serum into ink and tattooing it onto his wrist, triggering the start of his mutations.

It takes a bit, but Peter get's all the regular spiderman benefits (webs are organic), plus one more. The serum was created from the venom of the Portia Spider, a hunting/jumping spider known to be uniquely intelligent among arachnids.

Alongside the speed/strength/spideysense, Peter also grows some fangs that secrete a powerful venom.

The venom speeds up the body's processes, working almost like an insane performance booster and enhancing an injected person's strength, speed, and senses for a few hours.

Unfortunately, repeated doses also eventually induce shock, paralysis, and, later, death.

He gives a few samples of it to Marko as an exit fee.

Uncle Ben was suspicious of how Peter suddenly got so much money, but took him on good faith. But, while he was watching the news that covered the Oscorp robbery, connected the dots and had a blowout fight with Peter that ended with him having a cardiac event.

Unfortunately, he did not survive.

Aunt May and Peter were estranged over this for several years.

This event crushes Peter, sobering him up immediately. He goes back and gets his HS diploma, and works on night courses in college.

However, he spends much of his days wandering, angry at himself and what he did. He beats up a mugger one day and realizes that he could be using his powers to back up the faith Ben had in him.

Spiderman is born!

Eventually, he and Aunt May reunite, and their relationship is slowly healing.

A few years later, Peter is on the up. He and Aunt May are close again! He's got a bachelor's in computer science, has a (semi) steady job, and is well-liked as Spiderman by the populace at large. His rogue's gallery is roguing- etc.

Unfortunately, a variant of his venom (developed by Kingpin) hits the streets as a drug. It's favored by both criminals for its performance-enhancing strength, as well as civilians, for the time-slowing sensation/high it gives them.

His girlfriend, Mary Jane, who has been sober for a few years, relapses. Peter, knowing that he can't stop her from getting it on her own, reveals his identity and becomes her main source.

At least, this way, he can control the dosage.

Marko (who sold Peter's venom to Kingpin) manages to fire off his only two brain cells and realizes that Spiderman IS Peter Parker.

Then he outs him to the world because Spiderman made it personal.

Peter's life catches on fire. The entire world is after him. His loved ones have to go into hiding because there's no shortage of criminals and psychopaths who want to get their hands on MJ and Aunt May to get to Spiderman.

Peter ceases to exist. It's not safe anymore. He spends days (weeks? months?) in the suit. Eventually, on the run and burnt out, he pleads his case to Dr. Strange in desperation. (Ala No Way Home)

"Everyone deserves a clean start."

Dr. Strange agrees, but the spell can't work with Peter still existing as part of the equation. So it fires him off into a reality where Peter B. Parker, and by extension Spiderman, never existed.

So how's an ex-con/ex-superhero (for now) supposed to carve a space in a world that never knew him? By finding somewhere that doesn't ask any questions.

And it just so happens, that St. Margaret's School for Wayward Children has a reputation for both being a bar of questionable repute and looking the other way.

Might as well start there.

~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for this lovely, lovely ask! I hope this massive lore dump wasn't overkill, but I'm having a lot of fun with this world and wanted to share.

And I offer this lore dump ONLY on the condition that you do not drop whatever you're working on. There is always space for more spideypool in the world, don't deprive us!!!

[idksmtms]

For Anyone But Us (Criston Cole x Alicent's Daughter!reader)

A/N: Sorry Daeron, you didn’t exist here either 

Summary: You had grown up with Ser Criston as your protector, and almost a father figure. You didn’t know when exactly you began to crave him in carnal ways, in ways that had you blushing redder than a summer strawberry and running to hide away. But now you can handle it no longer. You must have him. 

Word count: 3,867

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap, oral f & m receiving, handjob, smut smut smut, self-hating, slightly manipulative reader (??), daddy issues, sexualising a father figure, era-typical negative view of sex, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You sat in your mother’s quarters, embroidery on your lap and a gentle melody humming from your lips. She was answering letters at her writing table while you reclined on her couch, enjoying the sudden breeze that had settled upon king’s landing and blew through her open windows. Occasionally you looked up to Ser Criston, standing stoic as ever by the door, and offered him a joyful little smile, one which he returned in his own muted way. 

Since you were born, you have been your mother’s constant companion. From her breast to her lap to her side, you have spent almost your entire life beside her. You are her youngest child, the apple of her eye by far, and the one that looks most like her. When you cried, she was the only one to comfort you, when you showed an interest in music, she had the best musicians come to foster your talent, when you said you wanted to learn history, she had as many books as would fit in your chambers brought from the library. You may be half Targaryen, but you will always be Alicent’s daughter. 

Due to being your mother’s constant companion, you soon became one for Ser Criston as well. Alicent trusted no guard more than Ser Criston and so he often had the task of being your carer. He has soothed your tears and washed your cuts when you’ve played too hard. He has tickled you until your laughs became shrieks and been the first to compliment every single one of your new dresses. You have grown up watching Ser Criston be your mother’s protector, be your protector. When you think of safety, you think of his face. So it makes sense that when you look upon his face as he watches out the window, a stoic set to his lips and brow, that your chest heats up and an errant throb pangs between your legs? 

You don’t really remember when you started feeling this way for him. You vividly remember one night, a feast for some celebration or other, and your mother had gifted you a new dress made of silk dyed in thin red water to make the prettiest baby pink. The maids had done your hair with intricate braids and curls that fell down your back but left your neck and chest exposed. You had rushed out of your room and found Ser Criston first, hopping in front of him to show off the dress. You had spun around in excitement, swishing the skirt of your dress back and forth and asking him what he thought. He had said you were the most beautiful girl in the world with a smile on his face and those dark eyes of his that never truly softened and kept a certain harsh quality to them. Your whole chest had turned red and your stomach had twisted in the most pleasurable way and you had wanted him to watch you for the rest of eternity. Even during the feast you had kept standing by him despite your siblings scolding you to mingle, pouting like a child if he turned his attention away from you for even a minute. 

Another memory, only a few years past, when Aegon had said something to upset you and you had come sobbing to your mother. After soothing your tears she had left you in her quarters under the watchful eye of Ser Criston to go and scold Aegon. You had sidled up to him, asking if whatever taunt Aegon had made was true. He had been quick to shush you, telling you that Aegon was a young man and he could still be stupid, that you needn’t take everything he said to heart. You had pressed yourself to his chest then, wrapping your arms around the armour on his midriff. He had gently rubbed your back for a few moments before clearing his throat and pulling away, guiding you back to the couch and bringing you whatever embroidery project you had left on the side table. But the feeling of his large hand on your back, his palm and fingers spanning so wide, his smell and even the look of his skin from so close had stuck inside your mind and body and you had tossed and turned that entire night to thoughts of him. 

You startled out of your thoughts of the man when your mother abruptly stood from her chair, tutting as she mumbled to herself about the time. You knew she was overdue to tea with Larys Strong so you smiled cheekily at her as she breezed past you, pressing a kiss to your head before heading to the door. 

“Ser Criston, stay here with Y/n, I shall take Ser Berrill with me to my meeting,” and she was out the door before Criston could nod his assent. 

You smiled then, looking to where Ser Criston stood and abandoning your embroidery to skip over to him. He smiled at you, bowing his head in greeting and you giggled. Criston didn’t know when that had become his favourite sound in the world but it was better than even the Septon bells on a wedding day. 

“I think I shall head back to my quarters Ser Criston, accompany me?” You asked, reaching to grab his arm and threading yours through his. Criston cleared his throat and nodded, his neck and cheeks going hot at the feeling of your body pressed so close to his side. It was inappropriate for a girl of your age and stature to be standing so close to him. But you had been doing this all your life, and despite the whispers that now began to pervade the keep about this behaviour, you refused to stop. (And of course Ser Criston was incapable of saying no to you). 

Criston opened the door and led the way out into the hallway, walking slow enough for you to keep pace with him. You were chattering on about something or other, he was too busy surveying your surroundings to fully pay attention, and the glimpse of your breasts that he caught every time he looked down to you was enough for him to keep his eyes away from your form completely. 

“...and that’s why Aemond has cemented his place as my favourite brother.” You giggled and he couldn’t help but look down to you again, smiling distractedly when he caught sight of the way your breasts curved under your emerald green gown, at the slight bumps of your nipples that he could see through the fabric. 

“He is a true prince of the realm and a great brother for you, Princess,” Criston answered, hoping it would be enough of an answer for you. You smiled and nodded and began on another story but stopped as you reached the doors to your chambers. You paused outside the door, opening and closing your mouth a few times. You chewed at the tip of the nail on your index finger and looked up at Criston with big doe eyes that had his entire body clenching up. 

“Ser Criston… would you come into my chambers with me? I don’t particularly feel like being alone right now.” You were twisting side to side at the waist lightly, hoping he would cave. 

“I do not think that is appropriate Princess,” he replied quietly, voice going low and gruff. 

“Please, Ser Criston? There is nothing wrong with my protector joining me in my chambers,” you argued, eyes going teary. 

“Princess…” he sighed, shaking his head. “We may know we are not doing anything scandalous but others will not know. I will not be responsible for anyone questioning your honour.” You sighed, almost admitting defeat, before looking up at him once more. 

“What if there is someone in there right now, waiting to destroy my honour? Then it would be irresponsible of you not to accompany me into my chambers,” you smiled triumphantly, before quickly pouting again when you remembered that cheekiness would not work in your favour. 

“Do not speak of such things Princess,” he replied sharply, swallowing aggressively at the thought of someone daring to come close to you with those intentions. 

“Then do not risk it Ser Criston and accompany me into my chambers,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Criston sighed once more before nodding in acquiescence. He knew you would always win, it was only a matter of how long he was willing to fight against you. 

You smiled brightly and grabbed onto his arm, dragging him into the room with you and shutting the door firmly behind you, sliding the lock closed before Criston could even realise you had done it. 

You leaned back against the door and watched him stand in the middle of the room, looking around the entire room before deeming it safe for you. He turned back to you and saw the mischievous smile on your face before sighing once more. 

“The room is safe Princess, I must return to my guardpost now,” he said, but he knew it would be easier said than done leaving now that he was inside. You just shook your head, continuing to block the door. 

“But I don’t feel safe Ser Criston, you must stay and continue protecting me,” you whined, rushing forward and falling to your knees right in front of him. You clasped one of his hands between yours and pouted as he began trying to get you to stand up. If someone walked in now and saw the princess on her knees in front of a knight, he would be sent to death quicker than he could pray for forgiveness. 

“Stand up Princess, please, you should not be on the floor,” he sounded pained, holding onto your elbows and trying to get you to stand without yanking you up. You just shook your head and did something that made his heart stop directly in his chest. You brought his hands to your lips and gently kissed the backs of both, staring up at him from under fluttering eyelashes. 

“This is exactly where I should be, Ser Criston. You have protected me my entire life, you have cared for me like no other, loved me like no other. I am devoted to you even beyond the gods. It is only right that I show you my devotion, show you my thanks, right here on my knees.” All breath abandoned him as he looked upon you, innocent and pure, on your knees with your face right by his cock. He swallowed harshly, shaking his head. No, no, no. He could not do this. He had abandoned his vows once already. And while he wholeheartedly believed that if he abandoned them with you then it wouldn’t be a waste as it had been with Rhaenyra, the thought of sullying you, of allowing himself to feel all that… heat and desperation, filled him with a shame that would eventually kill him. 

“Princess, please heed my words, you cannot do this, we cannot do this. You say I have protected you my entire life, and it is from this too I have protected you. From the men who wish to steal your honour and sully your body. I will not be one of them.” He wanted to sound firm but it came out pleading, almost verging on a desperate whine that had you frowning and tilting your head. 

“I only want you, Ser Criston. I don’t want any other, and I know I never will. You have never denied me anything, please do not deny me this,” your lip began to wobble and tears pooled so quickly in your eyes that they began to spill over before he could try and sway you away. You began to blubber and he dropped to his knees awkwardly in his armour, 

“Please don’t cry Princess, please don’t cry,” he begged, throwing off his gloves and cupping your face with his hands as you began to sniffle. His skin was rough and warm and you rubbed your cheek into his palm like a puppy. 

“You will not be sullying me, you will still be protecting me. If you do this for me then I will know what love feels like and I will know how to judge a suitor. I-I will know what pleasure feels like,” you added shyly, leaning closer to him. “You will only be teaching me. There is nothing wrong with teaching, you have been teaching me and my brothers since we were children.” 

Criston sighed and shook his head, grunting at the battle that waged a war in his head. He closed his eyes, knowing that if he kept looking at you he would break much too quickly. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for anyone. It was wrong to be such a lustful creature. But you whimpered and whined in his hands, turning to press open-mouthed kisses against his palms and he could feel the cracks appearing in his resolve along with his shame. When you took his index finger into your mouth, sucking on it like a child with a treat, the feeling of your warm, wet, mouth had spikes of hot pleasure shooting through his body and any remaining resolve dissolving as easier than salt into water. 

Criston moaned, too loud for his liking, and his breath shook out of him, head bowing as he panted against his chest. You could see the change in him, could see that you had won as his free hand began to roughly tug at the straps of his chestplate. It fell away and clattered onto the floor as you continued sucking on his finger, swirling your tongue around the digit. Criston sucked in a breath before pulling his finger from your mouth, cupping your cheek with the same hand and spreading your spit over your face. He pulled you into a kiss, a harsh thing that had you gasping and keening and yelping slightly when your bottom lip pinched between his mouth and your teeth. But all bonds on him had been unleashed, and he was ravenous. 

You fell against him, becoming just as desperate though with far less experience. You shoved your hands into his hair and pressed your chest to his, settling yourself onto his lap as he fell back onto the floor, torso held up by his elbows. He plunged his tongue into your mouth while you collected your skirts into your hands so you could sit on him without any intrusion. Criston pulled away from you, panting against your mouth for a moment before gently shoving you off and standing up again. He began undoing the rest of his armour and you sat on your knees and watched him. His hair was mussed from your hands and his cheeks had gone rosy pink. You heard the clanks of metal as each piece fell away and more of his body was revealed to you. The soft clothes he wore underneath were next, his shirt pulled over his head and tossed to the side without a care in the world. 

The soft bronze skin of his abdomen was taut and curved along each defined muscle. A light dusting of dark hair sat along his chest and trailed down his stomach until it disappeared below his breeches. You couldn’t handle being away from him any longer, a desperate heat crawling over your skin as if bugs had begun buzzing under your skin. 

You shuffled forward on your knees until you were right before him. You pressed a hand to the warm skin of his stomach, lightly scratching your nails down toward the waist of his pants. He shuddered, curling forward slightly and resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Princess…” he sighed, but he didn’t stop you either. 

You slipped your fingers into the waistband and slowly began to move it down. His cock caught in it before popping out and gently slapping against his abdomen. You stared at it, mouth suddenly full of saliva and legs trembling. You reached out and grasped it, the skin soft and burning hot. The tip was bright red and glistening, a small pearl dribbling out of it and sliding down the length. Another pearl dribbled onto your hand and you tightened your hold on him, listening to the gasps and moans he let out. You didn’t know where the desire to kiss it, to lick it, came from but you didn’t deny a single thing your body desired. You leaned forward and licked just under the head of his cock, smacking your lips slightly to try and decipher what exactly the taste was, before going in for another lick. You ran your tongue up the length of his shaft and back down. The hand on your shoulder clenched tight into your gown and pulled you closer to him. You opened your mouth wide and took the head just past your lips, suckling on it. You stared up into Criston’s face, his mouth open as he panted and moaned like he was in the most pain a man had ever felt. The sounds of your mouth smacking as you suckled on his cock echoed into the room and you rubbed your legs together. It sounded so wrong but oh so good. 

You pulled off of his length before going back to drag long licks along the length of his shaft. Everywhere you could reach you licked until Criston was keening loudly and pulling away. 

“Princess! Princess, please,” he huffed, cupping your face as you sat there staring up at him. You reached to your back and pulled on the ties to unlace your dress as much as you could on your own. The top loosened and the collar fell below your breasts, baring them to the cool air and the eyes of your protector. Your nipples had pebbled and you shivered as the cool air of the keep brushed over your skin. 

Criston stood you up and you allowed the dress to fall fully to your waist, smiling unashamedly as he continued to stare at your body. You wanted him to see you, to see every part of you. You loved him like you had loved no other, and you wanted to show him somehow. He led you to your bed, sitting on the edge and staring up at you. He bent forward and kissed the space between your breasts, rubbing his cheeks against the flesh on either side of his head. He breathed in the smell of your skin, kissing along the softness to your left nipple. He swirled his tongue over it, flicking it, before engulfing it with his mouth and sucking lightly. His mouth felt too hot against your skin and you moaned as you leaned back slightly to continue watching him. 

Criston pulled away and cupped your other breast, massaging it and rubbing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. It felt almost ticklish on the sensitive skin but sparks shot through you all the same. 

“Ser Criston,” you whimpered, pressing your chest further into his hand and hoping he would put his mouth back to the skin. 

“Yes, Princess, yes,” he said hurriedly, but instead of returning to your breasts, he bent at the waist and brought his face to your pussy. You gasped, his thumbs resting against either side and peeling your sticky lips apart. 

You had felt the slick begin to seep out of you and slowly spread from your hole and over your lips, but to see his face begin to press between your thighs, to feel his thumbs gently rub the soft skin and hear the way he inhaled deeply as he settled his chin on the crevice of your thighs had you moaning louder than you ever had before. 

“We must be quiet Princess,” he whispered, but you paid it no heed as he dove his tongue between your thighs right then. 

His tongue was hot and wet, the rough bumps rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin of your pussy. He licked from bottom to top before focusing on a little nub near the top of the crevice, suckling on it so heat shot straight through you and your legs buckled. You were bowing over him now, nails digging into the skin of his back as you rested on his shoulder, panting and wailing. He lapped at your cunt like a dog drinking water, desperate and aggressive. He slurped and pressed his face as far as it would go into your flesh. You could feel his chin rub against the skin of your thighs, slipping and sliding in the juices that had dribbled out of you. From this angle only the tip of his tongue could reach your hole and he pushed it in just so, pulling it out and pushing it back in so your entrance clenched and unclenched over it, the rim becoming sensitive. 

“Ser Criston!” You wailed, bucking against his face as he moved it back and forth, his nose rubbing against that swollen little nub that made you feel like the world was bursting behind your eyes. 

You pressed your mouth to his back, and in a fleeting moment of clarity remembered that he needed to reach his release as well. You slid one of your hands between your bodies and grasped his cock, choking on a gasp when he moaned right into your flesh and the vibrations spread through every nerve ending. You grasped him tighter and he hissed. You mumbled apologies into his skin before beginning to jerk your hand back and forth along his shaft, listening to the squelch of not only his mouth on your pussy but his cum spreading over his shaft beneath your hand. The pleasure rose within you, his hips bucked frantically up into your hand, your legs twitched uncontrollably, your skin was on fire. Everything felt like it was moving too fast all of a sudden, a wave rising in your legs and stomach and deep in your core. He was moaning against you and the vibrations finally sent you over the edge, heat and overwhelming pleasure throbbing through you. Your fingers twitched and your arms felt like jelly and your ears were rushing with blood. You couldn’t hear Criston’s moans as he spurted onto your thighs and hands, as he pressed his face to your stomach and moaned. 

When your ears quieted you could hear the mingling of both of your panted breaths, could feel the saliva that had drooled from your mouth and smeared onto his back under your cheek. Your weight was completely resting over his shoulder and you could feel the stickiness all along your thighs, the breeze beginning to cool it and sending shivers down your spine. Your hand was sticky and you slowly peeled it away from his cock. Criston shivered and slowly brought you off his shoulder and into his lap. You stared into his eyes, deep brown and endless. He leaned down and kissed you, lips salty and slick. 

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” you said, smiling against his mouth.

Taglist: @autumnhymns

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks. 

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway. 

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you. 

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator... 

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk. 

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer. 

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such. 

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined. 

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different. 

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her. 

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment. 

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger. 

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails. 

And finally, he answers. 

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat. 

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning. 

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder. 

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary. 

But, you don’t. 

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile. 

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms. 

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting. 

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk. 

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever. 

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“ 

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth. 

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp. 

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead. 

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla. 

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.” 

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

[bumblesimagines]

With Fire and Blood

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Unable to deal with his mother's indifference to his worries any longer, Jace turns his anger onto the dragonseeds

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, classism?, bastardphobia lmao, Jace is an angry lil hypocritical twink, suggestive content, era typical insults and such, spoilers for s2

All bro did was serve face and I cannot stop writing for him

~~~

Jace was well-aquatinted with the hot emotion that made his blood boil and hands curl into fists ready to swing at any moment.

The maesters claimed when he was born, he left his mother screaming and kicking wildly, nearly wriggling himself out of the maester and midwives' arms whilst they tried calming him enough to hand him off to his exhausted yet amused mother. He supposed it meant he'd always been short-tempered but he hardly found it to be his fault when he'd been brought into the world with looks that firmly branded him as Other. 

He'd been a child when it first dawned on him that there was a possibility he was not Laenor Velaryon's son, that neither of his little brothers were either. His mother never provided him with a full answer, only strained smiles and reassurances that he was a Targaryen.

Some nights, he'd stay up and stare at himself in the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair and imagining it was as silver as his uncles; poking at the area around his eyes and envisioning them to be lilac instead of mud brown. Jace tried ignoring it as best he could but the whispers and glances always tightened around him, reminding him he'd never be seen as anything but a bastard. 

Things grew easier in Dragonstone. Until the war broke and his mother took his idea of searching for kin to the filthy streets of King's Landing.

Truthfully, he nearly wept hot tears of anger when he first saw the army of bastards trekking into the castle. They were peasants, mongrels, filth who stole, lied, and betrayed for their own means, and they looked more like his family than he did. He despised it, despised the fact no one would ever question their parentage or blood when people would look puzzled or disgusted when they saw him.

It frightened him, too.

He'd grown uneasy when Rhaenyra fell with child soon after her marriage to Daemon, and the uneasiness grew when she bore him a little brother with those striking violet eyes and vibrant silver hair. A sister, he may have forgiven, but a brother? And one who looked more Targaryen than he did? Born to the power-seeking Daemon?

When four men stepped out from the blood and fire of the massacre with three dragons, Jace practically saw his future before his eyes; finding himself in his mother's spot, tearfully fighting against his own blood in desperate hope of claiming the birthright nobody believed to be his for the stain in his blood. He despised them, he decided. He'd already been distrustful of mere peasants so far below them entering the castle, but for those same mere peasants claiming dragons? 

That familiar flush of anger swept over him and he stared forward, his palms digging into the armrests below him. His mother had publicly chosen, right before him, to ride out with Addam of Hull over him, her own flesh and blood! Jace caught Baela's eye from across the table and she offered him a soft grimace followed by an empathic smile. 

"Well," One of the bastards broke the silence. Jace believed his name to be (Y/N), although he'd hardly been paying any attention when Rhaenyra brought the dragonseeds forth for everyone to become acquainted with. He only recalled the way his mother sucked in a sharp breath when the young man revealed himself to be the son of Daemon and a brothel worker. (Y/N) set his cup down on the table, swiping his tongue over his lips and rising. "I'm, uh, taking my leave, or whatever it is you're supposed to say." 

Baela blinked. "You have yet to finish your meal. You should finish." The softness in her voice made Jace's brows knit together. They were merely half-siblings through blood, not through any special means. A lady such as Baela had no need to speak so kindly to an unwanted pest from King's Landing.

"I have no desire to." (Y/N) responded, and Jace's fingers twitched when he left without bowing or acknowledging his prince. 

"More for me," Ulf said disgustingly through a mouthful of food, his hand scooping up the plate and scraping the remaining food onto his before he handed it off to a bewildered servant. Without his mother there, Jace allowed himself to scoff freely at the childish act, his eyes rolling as he cut into his meat and chewed on it.

By the time dinner ended and the dragonseeds slinked off to their newly given bedchambers, Jace still couldn't help but stew in his disappointment and bitter anger. He escorted Baela to her rooms, chewing her ear off with his complaints and growing insecurities on the way there, before bidding her a grumpy goodnight that she chuckled at.

Jace walked, or rather stomped, in the direction of his bedchambers but a figure standing in one of the balconies caught his eye, only fully capturing his attention when he noticed a dragon head peeking over the railing. Jace stopped and stared, marveling at the light gray coloring of the dragon, something akin to the glow of the moonlight. A soft, almost lavender color dusted the tips of the dragon's scales and horns and added to her beauty.

The Dragonkeepers claimed Chyrys had hatched from a clutch of eggs belonging to Silverwing just a year before his own dragon, Vermax, had hatched in his crib. After her failure and near-death at claiming Vermithor, Rhaena hoped the docile Chyrys would accept her as a rider, but the she-dragon refused to allow her on. Yet, she'd accepted a bastard as her rider. 

"Have you come to complain some more, Prince?" (Y/N)'s voice echoed in the silence of the night. His hand dragged over the snout of Chyrys, enticing a soft rumble of contentment from her. "I hear you've exchanged words with your dear mother over us." 

"You do not belong here." Jace told him before he could stop himself, the anger he'd tried desperately to entertain only in private moments spilling over. "You will never be one of us. You will never be a true Targaryen or a prince, no matter who your father is." He spat, lingering in the archway connecting the hallway. (Y/N)'s lips curled upward, and his amusement only made Jace's hands tremble with barely contained rage. How dare he laugh at a prince?

(Y/N) peered over his shoulder and retracted his hand from his dragon, the sound of rocks tumbling down the cliff toward the crashing waves below filling the air when Chyrys pushed herself away from the cliff and took off into the night sky. "You are aware that while my eyes may be (E/C), my hair is a color you'll only obtain when you've grown old and weary, no?" Jace's jaw clenched.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, you mongrel." Jace snarled, forgetting all about his desire to appease his mother by begrudgingly accepting the bastards' presence. It was unprincely of him to even be in the presence of someone of such low station, let alone bicker with one. His words struck his pride, however. "I am Rhaenyra Targaryen's son, I am her heir. You are the bastard of Daemon and the son of a whore."

He struck a nerve with the mention of his mother, he realized it when (Y/N)'s amused grin vanished into a scowl. His weak spot. "What? Are you not used to hearing the truth? I know your mother was a whore, and I am certain if it weren't for your silver hair, no one would believe you are the son of the late King's brother." Jace continued, eager to release his anger on someone deserving of it. 

"Just as no one believes you are the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon?" (Y/N)'s tone was edged with irritation, sharp enough to dip into Jace's gut painfully. He stepped forward toward him and Jace's hand instinctively flew to his side where his sword typically was, but for the sake of dinner, he'd left it in his bedchambers. Jace swallowed thickly when (Y/N) grew near, the smell of salt heavy on the bastard's skin from his time on the balcony. "Your brothers were never meant to rule Driftmark because your ancestral seat is in the very place Daemon Targaryen flew out to. You should have flown there first, treated with your family. I'm certain they would have welcomed you with such loving arms." 

"That is a vile accusation worthy of-"

"A vile accusation? Or the bitter truth you do not wish to hear?" (Y/N) arched a brow, the look of irritation he'd sported replaced with cruel amusement. He held eye contact as he stepped aside, his shoulder slamming into Jace's roughly enough to force the prince to stagger backward from the force, a hand raising to clutch it. Jace's features contorted. 

"You were born nothing, you will die nothing!" Jace called, his voice bouncing off the stone walls but (Y/N) paid him little to no heed, his indifference to Jace bringing him to his tipping point. 

A prisoner to the very anger that'd sent his true father away to his death, Jace's legs sprang into action and marched after him, his hands curling and uncurling. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, the flush of anger over his face, and the aching desire to dig his hands into something until it broke. His palm slammed against the door leading into (Y/N)'s bedchambers, throwing it open enough for Jace to step through before he tossed it shut, the wood vibrating from the force. 

"Someone ought to teach you animals some manners." Jace hissed when (Y/N) faced him, the dragonseed blatantly rolling his eyes at him and staring at him like an exasperated parent would their troublesome child. He stepped right up to him, their chest and noses bumping together from the proximity but Jace's hands remained pinned to his sides. His mother would surely scold him for laying a hand on him, and he refused to disobey her further no matter the temptation. 

"Careful now," (Y/N) said lowly, his breath fanning against Jace's face and drawing his attention down to his lips. "You should recall we're cut from the same cloth, as Ulf said." 

His blunt nails dug into the skin of his palms until they left deep imprints, sharply inhaling through his nose as his eyes darted back upward to meet (Y/N)'s. Jace stared at him, the tension in the room nearly beginning to suffocate him before he lunged forward, his hands grasping the collar of his shirt and lips slamming against his. A muffled noise of surprise left (Y/N) and the two staggered backward until (Y/N) collapsed back on his bed with Jace atop him. Jace pulled back with heavy pants, his hands still clutching the shirt and his brain beginning to process what exactly he'd do. 

Mortification slipped in ever so slowly, followed by guilt for having his first kiss be with anyone but his darling betrothed. (Y/N) stared up at him with widened eyes and parting lips that suddenly looked enticing to Jace. Gods be good. Jace squeezed his eyes shut, desperately reminding himself he was engaged and that laying with someone such as (Y/N) would be an utter stain on his royal title. His eyes tentatively parted to absorb (Y/N)'s reaction, but his features had softened instead of hardened. 

"I hate you." Jace exhaled quietly and released his shirt, his hands planting themselves on either side of (Y/N)'s head. "You are a commoner. The smallfolk have no place in court, no reason to even step within a castle unless it is to beg for our kindness. I wished for nothing more than to watch Chyrys burn you to crisp-"

"But alas, here I am." (Y/N)'s hands cautiously settled on Jace's hips. "And with or without my presence, you are and will always be a bastard." 

Jace huffed. "Shut your mouth."

"Make me, Lord Strong."

With little to no hesitance, Jace swooped down and delivered a rough kiss to his lips. He had no experience, as embarrassing as it was, and he hoped it was far from obvious as he pressed his mouth harder against (Y/N)'s. He resisted the urge to jerk back when (Y/N) licked into his mouth and focused on clumsily trying to rid himself of his clothing. His cheeks flared at the soft groan that felt him, his spinning mind edging him on to entice those noises out of (Y/N) rather than allow someone such as the dragonseed to elicit them from a prince. His teeth caught (Y/N)'s bottom lip and lightly bit down, satisfied when the hint of metallic hit his tongue.

(Y/N) only chuckled despite the blood sliding along his lip, his hand rising to cup the back of Jace's head and fingers slipping through his brown curls before he tugged. A sharp, whiny curse escaped Jace and humiliation filled the prince when he felt his breeches grow annoyingly tight against him from the act. (Y/N) laughed in response, his eyes bright with mischievous delight at the discovery that made Jace's skin warm further. 

"Bastard," Jace swore.

"I know I am," (Y/N) pushed himself up into a sitting position, his head burying itself in Jace's neck and teeth clamping down hard enough to leave a mark. He brushed his lips up along the side of his throat until he reached Jace's ear, his free hand pushing into Jace's hips and making their hips press together. Jace cursed again. "And so are you, My Prince."

[lis-likes-fics]

A Deal’s a Deal

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 11.7k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, smoking, oral (f and m!receiving), dom/sub themes, degradation, virgin!reader, gun kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Tommy is mean and she wants him to be ... A/N: So this was absolutely filthy and I will not apologize. I am American, but I used to British spelling for (as many of) the words that I caught because sometimes I like it better and it also just fit more for the fic. Also, when I say “gun kink”, I mean gun kink. This is filthy shit. Who knows? I may consider writing a second... Enjoy.

Keen eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed as Aberama Gold walked onto the yard, a sly smirk set in place among blond hair and a suit likely just as expensive as his own. The way his eyes surveyed the yard, examined every inch he could without touching any of it, even stopping by Charlie for a word, made Tommy aware it was for more than just surveillance.

Aberama finally approached, his men following after with their own vigilance. "I just took a look around. I like this place," he announced. "Fire for melting silver, canal to get it away." He stopped in front of him, well out of reach but just as imposing as the growing headache Tommy felt nagging at the back of his head. "How much?"

Tommy took a long look at him, still as a statue as blue eyes pierced through blue eyes. He considered not even regarding the question, moving on to more pressing business and pretending it had never been asked, but he knew better. Arthur drank from his flask.

"Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold."

He disagreed. "Oh, everything's for sale. Everything."

Tommy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, bringing it to his lips but not quite slipping it through yet. Aberama spilled the rest of the tea in his cup into the fire, which roared with the fuel to its flames.

"You tell Mr. Strong I'm going to buy his yard." He didn't leave room for debate.

But Tommy didn't care. "This yard has been in his family since they settled." He moved the cigarette between his lips.

"But I've decided to make it a part of our deal."

There was a long pause as the men stared each other down, testing the other's strength, their tolerance of cold eyes. The sounds of metal and fire and cups on tables next to them filled the silence and fueled the suspense of a standoff.

"Charlie?" Tommy finally spoke, calling to his uncle. "Charlie, come here." He obliged with a sigh. As he stood next to him with a dirty rag to clean dirty hands, Tommy continued. "Gonna spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."

Frustration was quick to settle at his words. He dropped his hands at his sides. "You're goin' to what?"

Tommy didn't spare him a glance, never breaking contact with Aberama as he spoke. "If it's heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing."

"Tommy?" Charlie warned, upset.

"And if it's tails…" he considered for a moment, gesturing to Aberama with his cigarette in hand, "I fuck your daughter, Mr. Gold."

Aberama's grin fell. Arthur laughed, a stifled laugh into his arm at the offer. Tommy's demeanour did not change.

Now, Tommy was a smart man who did his research. He knew all about Aberama Gold's family, but more specifically about his daughter—and, even more specifically, about his oldest. He knew she was a primary school teacher, how that came to be, he was sure it was with the help of her father. He knew she was Aberama's firstborn, born from another woman he'd fallen for but lost too quick to be left without love. Lastly, he knew she was without a husband, or even a suitor with the potential of wedding bells. With how beautiful you had been rumoured to be, he didn't understand it.

He was shocked he hadn't already had you yet.

"You have three daughters, I hear, and Y/N is the oldest and also the prettiest, so I'll have her. So make her part of the deal and spin against the yard." He replaced his cigarette between his lips, putting his hands in his pockets.

Arthur was still amused. The same could not be said for Charlie as he stepped closer. "Tommy, for fuck's sake."

Tommy fished for a coin in his pocket, flicking it over. "Here, you toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

He caught it easily, staring down Tommy before moving the coin in his palm to examine it thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, ready to call a bluff.

Tommy shook his head, just as serious and solemn as before as he took in his grin. "No." He shook his head, raising a finger to point at him with grim intent. "Please don't believe this is a joke, the coin to us is sacred. Yes, Arthur?"

"Sacred," Arthur agreed, his eyes as still and as menacing as his brother's.

They continued to stare. Aberama continued to think.

Tommy gave his warning. "You toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses, and if I win…"

"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement…" Arthur tried again, "wager are fulfilled."

Tommy's eyes held a threat. "Toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

Aberama considered, setting the coin on the crook of his finger and propping his thumb underneath. He contemplated, debating himself and his luck silently as the sounds of metal and fire raged against the silence and pulled the tension taut. Loud, defeaning.

"Tommy Shelby, OBE," he mumbled, still considering. Tommy saw the moment of decision behind his eyes before it reached his face. The challenge, the question of "Perhaps?" warring in his mind. Aberama smiled a small smile. "I'll take your wager."

The Shelby boys tilted up their heads.

Aberama flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent into his hands and he sighed as he closed his palm and slapped it onto the back of his hand. The coin seared his flesh as he stared at Tommy, hoping to see the right side of the coin staring back at him when he unveiled the result.

They stared, tense. "Well?" Tommy raised a brow.

Aberama removed his hand.

And his luck drained as he stared down at the coin tails up to the world.

He lingered for a moment, feeling the eyes on him burning into his skin just as the coin did. "...Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," he breathed. He took the coin and showed the boys. "Tails."

Tommy's lip twitched, although it was hardly susceptible to the eye. "Tails," he repeated, his voice darker than before. He readjusted his stance, regarding Aberama as he spoke to the uncle at his side. "Go on back to work, Charlie. Your yard is safe."

Charlie stepped closer, asking the question as though he was whispering it just to him. "Are you actually going to fuck his daughter, Tom?"

Tommy still didn't look at Charlie, watching Aberama intensely, as if to remind him that this was all his fault.

People seemed to forget who he was. They seemed to forget that you shouldn't fuck around with Tommy fucking Shelby, OBE.

"A deal's a deal, Charlie," he said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gold?"

He stared back with fire in his eyes. "Aye, Mr. Shelby."

~

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the large estate you were an expected guest in. Looking out of the window and through the dark, your stomach flipped at the prospect of the meeting you were meant to attend.

Your father had told you that the infamous Thomas Shelby was interested in meeting you. You were grading loads of papers at the time when you stopped to look at him, frozen in confusion. You asked him why and he brushed off the topic like he hadn't even brought it up, giving you a time and date and leaving it at that.

And now you're here, staring at his house and feeling the anxiety of how this evening would go as you stepped out of the car and watched him drive off. You fixed your dress, straightened your spine, and released a breath before beginning the looming evening with a walk up to the door through the dark, guided only by the lamps outside.

You clicked the knocker three times, waiting with your clutch held tightly in front of you. As the door was pulled open, you were somehow relieved to be met with an older woman. Though her blue eyes were shocking and her quirked brow was intimidating, she offered a kind smile and you were put to ease.

You really shouldn't have been as anxious as you were. You were a Gold and a gypsy—if something bad was going to happen to you, you would know and you wouldn't be there in the first place.

But this was Thomas Shelby, and you were terrified. He was rumoured to be the devil himself.

The woman opened the door wider. "Hello." She looked you up and down before stepping aside. "Come in."

You thanked her quietly, walking into the house and glancing around. It was nice. "How may I help you this late in the night?" she wondered, clasping her hands behind her as she awaited your answer.

"Um…" You smiled bashfully but not without the air of respect you've grown into and been taught to demand. "I don't actually know why I'm here. My father, Aberama Gold, sent me to see Tommy Shelby. I am to have an appointment with him?"

She hummed, "Of course. Wait here while I go fetch him." She began to walk off before correcting herself, looking back at you with a respectful smile. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you."

She left.

You stood in the foyer, twiddling your thumbs atop your clutch as your heart skips in your chest. With a calming breath, you steadied yourself, closing your eyes and waiting patiently.

You swung a foot out, taking a step forward as you wandered farther down the hall to see inside the main room. It was large, decorated sparsely with paintings and tiny statuettes. You didn't get a good look.

When she came back, she was not alone. Turning at the sound of shoes descending stairs, you saw him.

He still wore a suit. Although his jacket was removed, his timepiece was still in place connected to its chain. His sleeves were rolled up—you weren't sure why you noticed that so clearly.

He stared at you with a cigarette between his lips as his cold, blue eyes pierced your soul. Your heart jumped again. Anxious.

He watched you, looking you up and down and taking you in. He brought his hand up to remove his cigarette from between his lips, releasing a long, smoky breath. The look in his eyes shook you.

"Thank you, Mary." His voice was deep as it rumbled in his chest. "You can go to bed now."

Mary looked you up and down briefly. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

You didn't break eye contact with Tommy as she ascended the stairs. Even when she was completely gone, he didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze was hard to keep up.

You looked away.

"Come," he finally spoke, walking down the rest of the stairs and meeting you. He lingered in front of you for a moment, as if he just wanted a closer look, before continuing to move. You willed your feet to do so, following slowly behind him.

He took you to his study just off from the main room, pushing the door open to allow you inside. You entered silently, glancing along the room to take it in. He had a library, a burning fireplace, plenty of sofas, and a large wall of windows. The drapes were already drawn for the night, and the large room was illuminated by a small chandelier. You set your purse on the nearest table.

You watched Tommy walk toward his desk in front of the windows. He leaned on it, crossing one leg in front of the other. He stared at you again, and you quickly became frustrated with his gaze as you sighed gently and stood across from him, keeping plenty of distance.

Silence stretched on as he continued to stare and smoke, and you were growing impatient as you stared back. The longer he watched you, unyielding, the more you felt the need to squirm. It was only when you broke his eye contact again, like you had before on the stairs, that he decided to speak.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Gold?" he asked.

Now that this was finally going somewhere, you sighed. "Y/N, and no," you replied.

He raised his brows. "What did your father tell you, Y/N?"

You shrugged. "That you wanted to meet me and nothing else." His vagueness was really beginning to frustrate you after enduring all of that staring. Why had he stared for so long?

Tommy hummed deep in his chest, looking you up and down with a little nod of his head. He put it bluntly as he gestured toward you with his cigarette. "Your father lied."

It was your turn to raise your brows. "I'm sorry?"

Tommy reached behind him to put his cigarette out, stifling it against the ashtray on his desk. "Your father flipped a coin for a bit of property and lost. In return," he looked at you again, speaking slowly, "he gave you to me to fuck."

Your heart was slamming into your ribcage at the knowledge. Images of such a thing flashed behind your eyes, and your throat went dry. You looked down at your shoes for a moment, blinking rapidly as you stretched your jaw. "I-I don't understand," you confessed, releasing a humourless chuckle and licking your lips. "He… he wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?" he shrugged. When you didn't reply, he furrowed his brows. "Why else would you be here?"

You still didn't respond. He allowed you to process, though part of you felt like he was enjoying all of this, and you did not.

The anticipation started at your heart and spread through your body as it made a home in your chest, curling and writhing there in a bundle of anxious energy.

You swallowed thickly, "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Shelby?"

He considered your question, mumbling quietly to himself as though he was mocking you, "Am I going to hurt you?" His eyes raked over your body, considering something silently in his head before he spoke again. "Come here."

You didn't move, otherwise frozen in place as you stared at him. Your disobedience seemed to astound him for a moment as he raised his dark brows and pointed to his shoes. "Here. Now." His voice was deeper with the command. He left no room for defiance.

Your body responded before your mind, not eager to see what would happen if you refused a second time. Your feet took you carefully toward him, slow steps treading the space between you until you were hardly a foot apart from him. His expression seemed to ease then, just enough to tell you that you were close enough now.

He took in your face from this distance. You could almost feel his breath. He spoke to you in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest and resonated with you.

"I am a devil, but I'm no monster." Where you expected a crook of his finger to lift your chin, he gave you his hand to take a hold of your jaw and pull you close. "I won't force myself upon you, but if you agree to this, I will not be gentle. So, yes… I am going to hurt you."

You didn't respond—you couldn't. His words echoed in your mind and your mind warred with your body over what you would do in response and, thus, created none. You were frozen, staring at him as he held your face in a slight grip and held your attention in a much tighter one. You forget the fire burning smoke up its chimney. You forget the rows and rows of books lining the shelves of the office. You forget the clothes on your back, for his stare had stripped you bare for him to see.

He let go of your face, but you were not sure how well your brain registered that as you lingered in the same position, gripped in the same attention.

"If you want to leave," he said after a moment, "you'd better walk out of that door right now under the lie that the wager between your father and me was fulfilled. Hell, I'll even make you a cup of tea while you wait, and you can be on your way."

You considered that option. It would be like you never even came—except you did. And you knew you did. The stain of his stare, the hole he had burned into your clothes, into your skin, would never wash away. You would feel it every hour of every day as a reminder of the time you met the Tommy Shelby and lived not to tell the tale.

"But if you stay…" the corner of his lip twitched up at the idea, his pupils darkened and his voice deepened, "you're not leaving until I say you can." Even with their simplicity, his words made you shiver.

"Now, I will ask you once and one time only…" he leaned forward, his head very slightly tilted, his nose nearly brushing yours, "Are you leaving?"

As if you could say no with him this close to you. As if you could say anything with him this close to you.

Your options were idiotic.

Leave and live with the memories you gained here—the closeness, the silent obedience, the cold stare you could never wash from your soul. You would always feel it, feel him. He would never go away, plaguing your mind like a ghost of what could have been.

Or…you could stay. You could stay here and see what happened. You could let him ravage you, let him tear you apart and lick at your flesh and bone as he took you under his primal gaze. You could succumb to the ice in his eyes and let the burn of his touch mix together in some powerful, searing concoction. You would never wash his stain off, no matter how hard you scrubbed, but some part of you was alright with that.

And Tommy seemed to see that in your eyes.

He was amused as he shook his head, leaning back and away from you. He was teasing, you knew it now, heavily amused by the tiny reactions he earned from you as he pulled away to make you suffer a hint of withdrawal. It was with that distance that you realised you'd fallen in his trap, gone in too deep to turn back and be rescued from this tragic and ungodly addiction.

"No, you're not," he said—and, for a moment, you forget what he was talking about. "I can see it in your eyes, the same look your father had before he flipped that coin. You want to know what'll happen if you stay."

You seemed to snap out of it almost as you took a step back, establishing a bit more space as he revealed things you didn't want revealed. In doing so, you proved his point.

"You know exactly what happens if you leave. You go back to your regular life as a school teacher with siblings and a father to take care of." He chuckled silently, and you clenched your teeth. "No, you want to see how far this will go."

He raked his eyes over you for the hundredth time, and he knew the rumours were true. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty blushy cheeks. There was not a flaw on you that he could see. You were a beauty, an unconquered beauty he intended not to leave uncharted.

You looked away from him, glancing down between your feet and your hands and anywhere but his face as you processed his words, digesting them for what they were—the ugly truth you wished you could throw a blanket back over, swept back under the rug and hidden from view.

Tommy tilted his head as something dawned on him.

"Are you a virgin, Y/N?"

You kept your eyes on the ground, like you were watching his shoes—which you probably are—and shook your head. "I change my mind. You can call me Miss Gold." He could almost laugh at the idea, in fact, he almost did laugh. You brought yourself to look at him, your eyes stern with poorly hidden dismay. "And if I was?"

It made sense. No husband, no suitor, no time for one anyway. His lip lifted very slightly in the corner, and it felt like he was laughing at you. "The proper phrasing is 'and if you are?'" He leaned in, taunting you. "Because you are, Y/N."

You huffed to keep your eyes from fluttering at the effect he had on you. "How do you know?" you asked, doing your best not to sound as upset as you were. Your best was very poor.

He breathed a silent chuckle. "Because if I say the word 'sex'..."

You licked your lips and shifted your weight to your other leg, realising your mistake as soon as you made it but not showing it. You glanced away from him, and that was when you showed the realisation of your second mistake.

He pointed at you, ever amused. "You do that."

You thought for a moment over a way to say your next words without confessing anything—even if you knew it would be rendered unnecessary, as he seemed to read you like an open book.

"What if I did want to see what would happen?"

He inclined his head, lifting a brow. A small huff of a breath made up a tiny chuckle at your words. "Look at you," he said. "A good girl so bored she wants a go with a gangster."

You shrugged a shoulder. "All my family's gangsters and gypsies. It's in my blood."

He stared at you, cold and frozen like a statue. You stared back, gaze darting from eye to eye.

"In your blood," he muttered to himself.

You had no time to process what happened next. All you felt was his hand on the back of your neck and then your cheek against the cold wood of his desk. You groaned at the suddenness of it, stunning you completely—especially when his body pressed against the back of yours, crushing you against the desk and keeping you there.

Your breath was erratic, your pulse loud in your ears. Everything had happened so quickly, you were still catching up. The only thing that grounded you was the cold shock of something against the back of your head and the cock of a gun in your ears.

It was all suddenly very real—the anticipation, the suspense. You held your breath.

"Maybe I lied," he rasped in your ear, his voice just as dangerous as his gun to your head. "Maybe I want to see what's in your blood instead, eh?"

Your lips parted as shallow breaths passed between them, loud in your ears but likely nearly silent to him. You swallowed hard, frightened and exhilarated. "You're not going to kill me, Mr. Shelby."

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" He seemed to press the gun even closer, trying to scare you some more. But you were a Gold, and guns to heads were not as effective to you as it might have been to someone else from a family that wasn't yours.

"Because you want to see what will happen."

Surprised by your answer, he scoffed. "Maybe you are a whore." He pushed his hips harder into you, thus pushing you harder against the desk. The edge of the wood cut into your thighs, aching and proving very uncomfortable. A strained breath grunted from you.

You smiled slyly, looking back at him as best you could. "Which is it?" you chuckled, "Whore or virgin?"

He took pause, shaking his head as he uncocked the gun. "No," he chuckled darkly. "Just a twisted little girl who gets off to guns at her head."

Your smirk dropped, amusement gone at his words. You furrow your brow, thoroughly upset that he would accuse you of something so crude. "I don't."

"No?" he asked before leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver. "Then why are you so wet?"

You stilled. You hadn't realised it until he said it, the wetness between your thighs, the arousal hiding beneath your thundering pulse. That tingling sensation of simmering lust was now weighing down on you like an anvil, a terrible sentence you wanted to escape but found yourself physically incapable of. Your legs trembled, but you couldn't tell if it was from the ice or the fire rushing through your veins. God forbid it be both.

Your silence made him smirk against your ear. "You really are," he scoffed again. "That was just a guess, sweetheart."

You huffed, doing everything you could to avoid clenching your thighs. With how close he was to you, his body pressed against you so tightly, he'd surely feel it. The shame was thick enough as it was.

"Fuck you," you spat.

He was not fazed by your aggression. "I intend to."

With a sudden burst of defiance, you pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to face him. Your faces were so close, breathing in each other's scent as the both of you refused to back down. You heard him uncock his gun, tossing it onto the table behind you without breaking eye contact.

"This isn't the first time I've had a gun to my head, nor will it be the last," you told him. "And it's definitely not the first time a man's expressed his desire to fuck me."

"But it's the first time he's been able to, eh? Because before you had Daddy's protection." His hand landed on your waist, roughly pulling you toward him so your bodies were touching. It was useless to try to hide to fluster he put you in, but you did your best anyway. His voice was nearly a growl. "Well, where is he now?"

You shook your head, breathing shallow breaths. "I don't need his protection."

His smirk was small and taunting as he stared at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

"You do from me."

His lips crashed down upon yours as he pulled you close. Your surprised gasp was cut off, silenced by his harsh kiss. The feeling was foreign but not entirely unwelcome. Even as the force of his lips had his teeth smashing yours, cutting into the top of your own lip and greeting you with the taste of blood, you welcomed it.

You kissed back, moving your lips with his and following his lead but doing no more than that. Even if you had already compromised yourself, it would help not to encourage him.

When he pulled away from you, you chased his lips and felt the shame of it hot on your cheeks. He smiled at your eagerness, even chuckled at your breathlessness as he shook his head.

"My, my," he goaded. "You really do want this, you twisted little whore."

You shivered at his words and still denied. "And if I don't?" you countered, practically staring at his pink lips and proving him right.

He shook his head. "You should've walked out that door."

He kissed you again, silencing you once more until his lips had a moan clawing up your throat. He placed a hand on your chest, pulling you forward just a slight from turning you in one arm and shoving you back.

You stumbled backward, catching your footing again as you stared at him between the long distance he had put between the both of you. It surprised you and now you were trying to put your mind back in order, as though it hadn't been scrambled enough from his kiss.

"If you want to go so badly, prove it to me." He pointed to the door, urging you to leave with dark eyes and darker words. "Run. Run away, before I catch you."

You stared at him, catching your breath and contemplating. He was giving you one last chance for an out, one last chance to turn away and forget about tonight.

But you could never forget what happened here, especially not now, and not ever. Staring back at his dangerous eyes, you made your choice, knowing there was no turning back.

So you would prove that you wanted to stay as you trudged the distance between you and closed it with your lips on his, addicted to the taste of him—the taste of danger and intrigue and all things twisted in the world.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he opted to devour you, allowing your fingers to work at the buttons of his vest to remove it. You gasped into his mouth and made your decision before your inexperience could talk you out of it, separating from his lips only to kneel down before him with your eyes locked on his.

Amazed by your initiative, he encouraged you by leaning his hips out as you worked at his belt. You fumbled for a moment too long before you finally got his trousers open, finally reaching what you were aiming for as you pulled him from his underwear.

You stared wide-eyed at him as you took in the sight of his cock, the tip flushed red and the vein along the underside pulsing with his well-disguised lust. You looked up at him, finding him staring back down at you with those cold, dark eyes.

"Well, go on then," he mumbled as you continued to stare, conflicted between different courses of action.

Your body heat seemed to rise at the realisation that you were staring like a fool. You swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up and wrapping it gently around him, gliding your thumb along his tip and feeling a little more confident when his unyielding eyes fluttered. You continued on, rubbing your thumb at the head of him before stroking your fist along the length of him, up and down in a steady rhythm as you navigated what he liked and didn't like.

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, urging you forward as your face pressed into his hips with the warmth of his cock on your cheek. Slowly, you kissed it, your lips gliding along the length as you took in the unfamiliar sensation. You slipped your tongue through your lips, licking along the side until you reached his flushed tip. Kissing the slit at the head of his cock, the bead of pre-cum there spread over your lips as you darted your tongue out to lick it.

You opened your mouth at the taste, setting his tip on your tongue and shivering at the feeling as you closed your lips around it. You built yourself up for it as you felt his heavy stare at the top of your head, bobbing your head slowly back and forth as you took the smallest bit more with each comeback. As he reached the back of your tongue, that tickling feeling in your throat began to tease you before the threat of gagging became too much to try to pass through.

By now, his cock was glistening with your saliva. As you looked up at him with eyes beginning to tear from your efforts, he stared back, lost in the pathetically illusioned look on your face. "You can't be done already," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You spoke breathlessly, "Tommy–"

"No," he shook his head. "Not Tommy. You call me 'sir' while you're sat there on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You understand?"

You took in his authority, deciding whether or not you would listen. You began to scoff, "I'm not–"

"You will," he said finally, giving you that look that demanded respect. You knew, staring at him now, that he held the key to your pleasure. If you wanted to feel good, you would have to obey. As much as that annoyed you, it thrilled you all the same as he continued to look down on you like he was.

Your jaw ached with resentment, but you knew it was a front, you fighting the submission you were not meant to have. But you wanted it. You wanted him to break you down to some common whore, to strip you of your importance as a Gold and turn you into his plaything. But it was so firmly embedded, you would just have to keep fighting against it.

But that didn't matter right now, not with you on your knees with his cock in your hand.

"I can't do it…sir," you replied.

He raised a brow. "Can't do what?"

He was taunting you, insulting you by trying to make you say something you didn't want to say. It sat on your tongue like venom. Admitting what you classified as "it" felt like a new kind of torture.

"What is it you can't do, eh?" he questioned, even smirking at you like he knew he held all the cards. Because he did.

"I can't…" you swallowed thickly, bowing your head.

"No, no," he tsked, lifting your head with his hand in your hair to force you to look at him. And he wasn't lying before—he wouldn't be gentle. "Look at me and tell me what you can't do."

You huffed, speaking in a squeak of a voice. "Can't… take it all."

"What was that?"

"I can't take it all," you repeated, not yelling but not whispering either.

He smiled at you then, an evil, nasty smile that you wanted to wipe from his face. "That's all?" he questioned, laughing when you broke his eye contact. "Well, sure you can. Let me show you."

The exchange was promptly ended as his hand in your hair guided your head back to him as you took his cock in your mouth again, and he pushed you down, inch by inch, back onto him. You felt his tip pushing into your mouth, deeper and deeper on your tongue until he brushed the back of your throat. You gagged around him, feeling the sensations of the invasion rushing down your spine, resting in your belly and tingling all over.

As your nose brushed against his pelvic bone, your eyes welled up as tears spilled over your cheeks. He shushed you as you gagged on his cock, your throat adjusting around the intrusion. His hips bucked a couple of times, pushing his cock further until he could go no deeper. When he pulled out, you took as much air into your burning lungs as possible before you were interrupted by a few coughs.

As much as you wanted to slap him for the assault on your throat, one look at the pleasure on his face calmed the fire of frustration and fed the ache of arousal between your legs.

"Don't– do that again," you huffed, still catching your breath as you leaned forward on your knees to take him into your hot mouth again. You didn't go nearly as far again as you licked along his length, suckling around his cock and laving your tongue along his tip and the vein on the underside.

"The hell I won't," he mumbled, not the biggest fan of your telling him what to do but not necessarily put off by the idea. His hand remained a tangled mess in your hair as you continued to suck and lick and kiss.

You weren't expecting it when he pushed you down the second time, but at least you knew what to expect as you shut your eyes tight and took it, accepting the twisted pleasure that blossomed in your belly until he pulled out of your mouth again, keeping you back as he groaned.

You wiped your mouth off, staring at him with wet eyes and breathing through an open mouth. A deep breath exhaled from his lungs as he hoisted you to your feet, searching out your lips to bring you into another kiss. He turned you both around and pressed your back into his desk as he continued to kiss you roughly, pushing you back until you collapsed on the dark wood.

You gasped in surprise but barely had time to process as his lips continued to attack yours. His hands grasped the neckline of your dress, encouraging shivers down your spine. When he suddenly ripped and ripped at your clothes tearing them off you like a beast, you gasped and watched him turn your dress to rags.

It wasn't long before you were bare in front of him, save for the pantyhose hiding nothing from him. Then those were gone, too. Your hands instinctively flew to your body, trying to cover yourself up. There was really no reason for modesty, not now that you had already seen his cock and had it shoved down your throat, but this was entirely new and you would have rather liked a warning beforehand.

"Don't cover yourself now," he said as he entwined his hands with your own and pulled them away, spreading you out to see every inch of you with those hungry eyes. Your body trembled with the feeling of his eyes on your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the mix of emotions ruling you.

Where some would take pity, Tommy just smiled darkly and tsked gently as he leaned forward and began kissing your neck. Your mouth fell open as your eyes fluttered to see him. A slight moan caught in your throat escaped at the sensation of lips to skin and your hands struggled where he restrained them, wanting to touch him again.

His kisses were not so patient after a moment as teeth began to scrape skin, sucking and nibbling on flesh in order to mark uncharted territory. The pleasure it gave him to know that no man had ever done this to you before was intense, driving him crazy with lust, a desire to claim you as his hips cant into your own, pushing you further into the desk and otherwise hurting you—if you had not been so preoccupied with his kiss.

You moaned into the air when his hand tightened around your thigh, squeezing roughly as he groped and kneaded the flesh. His other hand busied itself around your throat and tilted your head off to the side, sitting securely there but not quite squeezing the same. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist nonetheless, though you didn’t know whether you were trying to make him stop or keeping his hand there, wrapped around your throat and effectively putting him in charge.

The hand on your thigh travelled up, smoothing along your skin until he reached your hip. It never stayed there, moving back down as his fingers brushed over your exposed cunt. Your breath stopped in your throat when you felt his fingers ghosting over your lips and gasped when you felt his middle finger slip between them before biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to silence yourself.

His lips brushed your ear as he spoke in his low tones. “You like being touched by me? Eh?” A whimper left your throat when his finger pressed into you, pushing past your folds and into the warm, wet feeling inside of you. You clenched around it, the feeling foreign and but so good. "You're practically a whore now. I did buy ya after all—cost me a penny."

Your legs trembled as he stretched you out around his finger, a second playing at your pussy before carefully joining the other. "A penny?" you stuttered. "I personally think I'd be worth at least two."

"Well, let's see then," he said, lifting his brows as he pulled his finger out of you.

You whimpered, granting him an annoyed expression at the absence of his touch so soon. "See what?"

"If you taste good enough for two pennies."

You stared at him as his lips kissed your chest, sucking on your nipples on the way down and continuing on down to your thighs. A shocked yelp came from you when he bared his teeth around a chunk of flesh, only soothed when he kissed over it.

He gripped your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, taking your hips in his hands and pushing himself up so your body was nearly folded in half. He didn't stall you at all as he buried his head between your thighs, licking and sucking on your folds as he shoved his tongue between them.

Your head flew backward, banging against the table. You hardly noticed, even with the full throb at the back of your head, the slight dizziness in your brain. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in dark strands and tugging him forward. His tongue was just as skilled here, commanding your body to his every will, as it was during his speeches while he commanded armies of men to join in his cause or to intimidate against their own.

One hand left your hip to play with your cunt, toying with your clit. He pushed two fingers into your fluttering hole, swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned for him to continue.

"Fuck," you mewled, closing your legs around his head and digging your heels into his back. He didn't seem to care, not until you messed up. "Please don't stop, Tommy."

But he did. His fingers and tongue retreated as he pulled back, straightening his back and letting one leg fall from his shoulder, though he kept the other firmly held to his chest.

You whined, looking at him with shallow breath. You watched him lick his kiss-swollen lips as he stared at you with black eyes. The emotions in your belly swirled between lust and frustration and fear and intrigue. He was so intimidating and you wanted more. You wanted him to keep kissing you, to keep dragging his tongue along your wet pussy. But you also wanted him to push you into the floor and take you from behind, his hips slapping into you, his hand planting your cheek against the cold floor, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, too desperate to care about how pathetic you sounded.

He lifted a brow, saying nothing and staring. When you tried to sit up to reach his face, he pressed a hand into your chest and pushed you down roughly, leaning forward himself to paralyse you with his dangerous glare. Even with his hand on your chest, you tried to sit up still to kiss his pretty lips but he wouldn't let you. Your thigh ached from the position.

"Please," you whispered again, a broken moan as the lack of pleasure became too much, welling in your chest and making your body tremble.

He tilted his head.

You let out a shaky breath, moving your free leg outward to spread yourself even wider for him. "Please, sir," you concede. "Please keep going. I want it."

He didn't continue. His eyes bore into yours and you shuddered. With a gentle huff, you handed over the last of your dignity. "Please, sir, I need it."

He lingered there for a moment longer before smirking. You thought he was going to kiss you when he leaned forward, but instead he took your bottom lip between his teeth and but down before returning to his previous position between your legs.

He began again with the same intensity, devouring you as though you were his last meal. You whimpered and moaned and cried from the pleasure he forced into you. As he shoved his fingers into you, spreading them apart and thus stretching you wider, suckling on your clit and kneading it with his tongue, a coil tightened in your belly as everything seemed to follow.

Your moans built to whining breaths—too high and pitchy to be real—but genuine nonetheless. He didn't let up or slow down, drunk on the taste of you and too far gone to stop just yet, not without his reward.

The warm, wet feeling of his mouth became too much, the suckling of his lips even moreso. You squeezed your eyes tight, arching your back as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your breath was rough and forceful as it rasped in and out of your throat, and your hands clenching in his hair tugged and tugged as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure took siege of your body, attacking every nerve ending until you were naught but a pile of flesh and blood and bone.

The high slowly descended to bring you back to Tommy Shelby's study, his tongue at your pussy a distant sensation in the back of your mind before it burnt with oversensitivity. You tugged at his hair, grunting as you pulled his head away to catch your breath.

His chin glistened and his lips were plump with blood as he stared at your recuperating body. He pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, taking them between his lips to taste you.

"Too much?" he asked, not in any way sensitive as he stared. "What, it feels too good, it hurts?" All you could do was nod. He breathed a laugh. "Have you ever touched yourself before, love?"

You didn't have it in you to be shy as you shook your head. He didn't take that answer this time—not humiliating enough, you supposed.

"Eh?" he urged, lightly smacking your arse to get a proper answer.

You grunted, shaking your head. "No, sir."

"That's your first time cumming then," he said more than asked, watching your dazed eyes slowly return to the dull bite of their natural rebellion—though he knew he broke you down enough for it to be too weak to matter.

He still awaited an answer. "Yes, sir," you obliged.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "Most men don't know how to please, so most women don't get to cum."

You disregarded his comment, still stuck on the aftershocks of pleasure as your eyes wandered the room. You whimpered when he licked you again, suckling around your clit and earning a jerk from your body.

He sat up, moving your legs off his shoulders like they were nothing important to him. He wrapped a hand at the base of your skull and pulled you up to sit. "Come here," he said, bringing you close to his face. "Have a taste."

He pulled you forward and crashed his lips against yours, too rough but just as amazing as all the rough ones he'd given before. The taste of you was strange but addictive as you came back for more, even as he pulled you away.

Tommy backed away from you, leaving you bare and hot on the desk. His hair was a mess, and he licked his lips again. He gestured toward you. "Stand up." You did as you were told, steadying yourself on unsteady feet. "Turn around."

As you obeyed, he came up behind you and pushed you onto the desk again, just as he'd done before. You grunted at the impact and clenched your thighs at the effect it had on you. You hated how good it made you feel, his treating you so roughly, without a care to just how rough. You hated even more how much rougher you wanted him to be.

Your prayers may have been met with extremity when you felt his gun to your head again as he spoke into your ear.

"I could kill you," he considered, pressing the gun further.

Your heart kicked up, and the adrenaline took over as his unwavering voice promised your demise. You held back your moan and responded, "But you won't."

"Why not?"

"You need me," you insisted. He laughed. "It's true. You kill me, well I'm Daddy's favourite. There'll be war. You make me go, I'll just keep coming back to finish it. You fuck me now, your wager is fulfilled and you get to fuck a virgin. What man doesn't want that, eh?"

Oh, you were good. Even if he was going to kill you, your words were enough to persuade him otherwise. He pressed the gun into your temple and the clicking sound of him clocking it reverberated in your ear. You moaned a long, deep moan as you clenched your thighs tightly together.

He smiled, laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head. "A proper whore, you are."

"Then fuck me, sir. That's the purpose of a whore, isn't it?" You gripped the edge of the table when he pushed his hips into you, aching that same spot on your thighs from before and making your lust all the worse.

He lingered, the cold barrel cocked and ready. You held your breath and awaited his decision before he removed it from your head. You sighed gently, missing his warmth when he stepped away from you.

Your hips jolted when the cold tip of his gun pressed to your pussy, spreading your lips apart to see you still wet for him. With the gun still cocked, your heart pounded against your ribcage and you felt the anxiety building deliciously in your body. He hummed, considering something in his head. You stayed as still as possible, certain your breath was loud as you wondered what he was thinking.

You heard him kneel, hyperaware of every sound he made behind you. His hand nudged the other side before he was leaning forward to taste you again.

You whimpered. "You're a dirty whore for being this wet," he said. You bit down on your lip.

He stood again and bent himself over your body. "You got my gun dirty," he tutted, shaking his head like he was scolding you as he shoved the barrel in your face. You could see your arousal gleaming off of it, shaking at the sight of it so close. "Clean it up."

You didn't move, paralyzed by fear. He didn't like that. "Clean. It. Up."

You let out a wavering breath, "Yes, sir." You leaned forward slowly, not even certain you were actually moving, and stuck your tongue out the slightest bit. You shut your eyes, making contact with the gun and a tiny whine slipped.

He watched you do as you were told, licking your slick from his gun and loving every second. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and beautiful. He kissed it from your skin as you cleaned the gun.

When he deemed that you'd done well enough, he uncocked it and put it away. Your body relaxed, all of the pent up energy inside of you calming a slight as the threat of so much danger lifted from you.

He slipped his hand around your throat and leaned into your ear again. "Such a good girl, crying for me" he husked in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."

You felt the head of his cock push between your folds, coating himself in your slick, and there was plenty to go around. He straightened his spine as he took a hold of your hips, just as rough as you were expecting, before he shoved his cock into you. You moaned loudly as the harsh drag of his cock invaded your cunt, stretching you out around him.

"Fuck," you cried, gripping the desk harder. He held you steady as he fucked into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust. The slick you'd gathered would have to do.

You clenched down on him, thighs aching and trembling and becoming too much already as the tears built in your eyes.

Chants and cries of "yes" and "more" and "harder" spilled from your mouth and into the air, a loud and filthy cacophony of blasphemous praise. He held you down and he held you still, dominating your body as your new god as he ruined you for any man.

"You want more? Sure you do, so desperate for a fuck," he taunted, his harsh words accompany the harsh smacks of his hips. It was loud and continuous and it felt so good. "Such a dirty little thing, filthy and twisted. You like having a gun to your head, you like me being mean to ya. Where's all that pride gone, eh?"

The tears streamed down your face, decorating you in a way that Tommy could only describe as "beautiful".

"That's right. Cry for me, little whore," he grunted.

You did. Your thighs hurt and your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the desk so hard, but you cried for him and the overwhelming pleasure, a depraved sound he fed from.

One of his hands left your hip to toy with your clit as he pressed his chest to your back. He bit the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, cruel and uncaring, before kissing the spot like an absent-minded apology. Your voice was raspy as he drew quick circles at your clit, chasing your next high as though it were unattainable.

And who knows? With Tommy, it might be.

"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, sir, more." He cursed under his breath.

That crashing high from before curled in your belly again, hot and searing, like molten lava. You shuddered when it erupted, squeezing around his cock as you nearly sobbed. "Ahh, fuck!" Your head went fuzzy at the sensations as you gushed around him, sucking him in tighter.

Tommy grunted, his hips stilling before he pulled out of you. You thought he was done, but he seemed far from it as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, lifting you from the table and turning. You thought he was heading for the sofa, instead he lowered you to the ground on your hands and knees, which shook with the aftershocks of an orgasm you were still recovering from.

He pressed down on your back, pushing you onto the floor so your hips were angled up. He grasped your waist, smacking your arse once and earning a cut-off shriek.

He steadied you before burying his cock in you once more, sighing from the warmth your body provided. You whimpered at the feeling so fresh after cumming, slowly adjusting to the pleasure as he fucked into you with the insistence of a starved man.

Once you settled into it again, you moaned into the sensitivity, easing the rock of his hips rubbing you against the floor with your palms planted on the wood. It was cold and hard but the way his cock brushed in and out of you was so electric that you didn't care.

"There we are," he said, guiding your hips quickly as he pulled you in against him. "Fucked on the ground where you belong. Don't you agree?"

You struggled with nodding—though you knew he wouldn't accept it anyway. "Yes, s– Ah!– sir." He rutted into you, his thrusts almost animalistic, and he kept on.

He leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.

"Good," mewled. "Feels good, sir."

"Yeah?" he asked, a particularly harsh slap making you whimper. "You want more, you pathetic whore?"

"Please, sir."

"So polite all of a sudden," he spoke breathlessly.

When he pulled out of you again, you thought you'd scream. But he eased you up to flip you onto your back, standing on his knees and staring down on you. You watched him unbutton his shirt, undoing each button one by one until he was able to shed it from his arms. You stared at the bare skin of his chest, taking in his tattoos, his muscles, the light patch of hair.

Grabbing you by your legs, he pulled you into his lap after leaning back. He set your legs over his shoulders once more, guiding himself back into you before he leaned forward. Your legs ached from being put in this position so much—but hell if you cared, because when he seated himself fully inside of you, the moan you left out was deep and guttural. He reached so much deeper than before, brushing a spot inside of you that set your body ablaze.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hips snapped into yours. His thrusts were shorter in this position, grinding into you and brushing that spot over and over and over again. You whined and moaned through every moment of it, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.

Your hand splayed out over his cheek as you tilted his head toward your face, wanting to watch him as he fucked into you. His eyes gazed at you, the intimidation from before not quite as cruel as it melted into the intimacy of the moment. His forehead pressed against yours and you breathed in each other's air as he shoved your hips together.

The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you were intoxicating, filling the air with a filthy cadence that mixed with the carnal pleas on your tongue and the raucous groans on his.

"Look at you," he said, planting his hand next to your head once more as the other held your hips up for the right angle. "So desperate, pathetically beautiful."

You gave him a drunk smile, looking between his eyes and lips. "You think… I'm beautiful?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, shutting you up with a rough thrust. Your head fell back and exposed your neck, which he graciously nipped between his teeth.

You yelped when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit again, sinking into a breathy moan as you looked between your bodies to see it. You looked back up at Tommy, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body, succumbing to his touch.

"Fuck," you breathed, clenching around him at the feeling of your aching clit being stimulated again. You weren't sure you could cum again, but to hell if you weren't going to try.

Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails took root in his shoulders, scraping down his flesh to find purchase for the overwhelming passion. The sound Tommy made was nearly a moan, which he covered with a hiss as he clenched his teeth.

You kissed him, lips bruising, teeth clicking, tongues flicking as you drank the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum again, sir."

He raised his brows, though his rhythm was wearing. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

You corrected yourself, kissing him again to add in your favour. "Please, sir, can I cum again?"

His grin was almost sinister as he regarded you. You were learning, and fast. His unsteady hips rocked you back and forth on the ground, and his breath was timed with each little thrust. You could tell he was going to lose it, so close to joining you as you encouraged him by clenching and squeezing, sucking him into your cunt and getting him addicted to it.

"Fuck, yes. Go on and cum for me, sweetheart," he groaned, giving you the permission you needed as the pleasure washed over you like a wave of fire.

Your back arched, your weak moan stuttered in your throat, and you couldn't help but utter his name as the ecstasy shook you. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan continued until it melted to helpless little whimpers which then dissolved into each breath.

Tommy buried his face in the crook of your neck when he came after you, growling in your ear and his muscles tensed under your hands. His hips rutted into you, sinking in nice and deep and putting you in a position that would have been fairly uncomfortable, had you not been so devoured by his deep fucking that you hardly even noticed. All you could feel was the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milked every drop.

Slowly, his muscles loosened and his grip on your hip let up. He sighed, a long, deep sigh that released the rest of his tension as he began to straighten his back again. You stopped him, wrapping your hand around the back of his head and pulling him down for one more kiss. This one was so soft, a slow kiss that rendered your body useless. Everything was limp and lazy as the tender kiss changed the entire dynamic of the night.

It lasted longer than it properly should have as you both came in for more, treasuring it, cherishing it, until it had to come to its imminent end. He pulled away from you, staring at your face for a moment longer before he sat up, pulling out of you and making you shudder from the sudden loss and the even more sudden chill.

You stayed on the floor as he walked toward his desk and tucked himself back into his underwear. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping down as you lacked the strength to stand. As Tommy picked up his case of cigarettes, he looked at you over his shoulder, still laying there. Your legs were still spread out, your pussy dripping with both your cum on display and your arms framing your head. You'd passed out.

Tommy rubbed his cigarette between his lips before he lit it. His eyes never left you as he took the first puff before discarding the light and walking over to you. He knelt, tucking his hand under you to take you into his arms and set you on the sofa. He readjusted your body, your legs closed and one of your arms covering your chest.

He stood there a moment. You looked peaceful as you slept—absolutely debauched with your messy hair, tear-stricken cheeks, and swollen lips—but peaceful. Your face nuzzled into the cushion, and your lips twitched with whatever was going on in your head.

It took more than he would like to admit not to brush the apple of your cheek as he cleared his throat quietly. He picked up his disregarded shirt and draped it over your shoulders before choosing to walk back to his desk. He sat down and sifted through some files he pulled from a drawer to busy himself.

He didn't keep track of how long you slept or how long he sat there. He hadn't realised when he dozed off, tired out from you and from work.

You stirred from your place on the couch, opening your eyes and wondering why the floor was so soft. It took a moment to remember where you were, why you were naked, and why your thighs were so sticky.

Taking a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose as you noticed the shirt over your body. You sat up slowly, pulling it to your chest and taking another deep breath. The scent made you dizzy, and you slipped it over your arms. The shirt was big on you, hanging low as you pulled it closed around your body.

Your body ached as you moved to stand, running a hand through your hair and stretching your sore limbs. Why were you so sore?

You took two steps, examining the floor and taking in all the clothes—scraps and fully intact—laying there, before you looked up and saw him. Tommy was passed out at his desk, bracing his face on his arms as he slept.

The events of that night flooded into your mind all at once and suddenly, everything made sense. You looked down at your dress of scraps again with a frown as you picked it up, rolling your eyes before using it to wipe away the cum glueing your legs together and discarding it back to the floor.

You padded over to Tommy, glancing over him and silently making your way to the window to peek behind the curtains. It was still dark out, so you hadn't slept long.

You returned to Tommy, lifting up his half-burnt cigarette and putting it out properly in the ashtray it was sitting in. You stared at him, watching him sleep.

You never thought the devil himself could ever look so peaceful.

You couldn't help yourself—you reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. You just wanted to see him a little clearer. In doing so, he woke. It wasn't a slow waking like yours. His was fast, nearly startled as his eyes opened and his sharp inhale shocked his senses. Before he could jolt up to his feet, his blue eyes found you and his dark brows almost convinced you that he despised you as he granted you a hard stare.

But his expression shifted at the sight of you, after he'd properly taken you in and recognized you. He blinked away and sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down before reaching for his case of cigarettes again.

He picked one out, rubbed it between his lips, and lit it up in silence. And, in silence, you took it from between his lips and set it between your own. He stared at you, lips parted and amused—though, you had to look closely to notice.

"Apologise."

You stared at him with a raised brow, blowing out a billowing breath of smoke. He was surprised you smoke.

He looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back again. "Alright, I'll bite," he said. "What for?"

You took another deep breath before moving it again, blowing it out before gesturing toward him with his cigarette. "You called me pathetic."

"You are pathetic."

"And you called me a whore."

"You are a whore."

"You called me a pathetic whore."

He opened his arms, shrugging as he watched you. You raised a brow and blew out some more smoke.

"Apologise."

You weren't harsh as you said it, and you didn't look particularly hurt. In fact, you looked like a fucking angel dressed in his shirt, smoking his cigarette, and demanding he apologise for something you so obviously enjoyed.

He gave in, smiling as he rolled his eyes. "I apologise for calling you a pathetic whore…even if you are a pathetic whore."

You watched him for a moment, considering whether you'd accept his apology.

"I also want you to apologise for pointing a gun at me. Twice. And then touching my fucking cunt with it."

"No." He said it so simply, so finally. There was no way you'd get him to budge. "You liked it too much."

You thought about that and shrugged. Fair enough.

"I also–"

"Shut up and come here," he said, turning toward you with his open legs and arms.

You smiled and stepped between them, letting him take hold of your waist—even if you were still sensitive there because you didn't want to give up the affection. You guided the cigarette back between his lips, your fingers pressing against them as you did. He smoked it before taking it out and staring at you, blowing the air out as he thought.

Tommy reached into his pocket, digging around to pull out a coin. He handed it to you, and you shook your head at him. "That's not funny," you mumbled, stifling a laugh.

"Congratulations, you're worth two pennies."

"Fuck you," you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I've already done that." You laughed again, shaking your head and ignoring the warmth in your belly.

You stared at him, rubbing the coin between your fingers as you toyed with it. He watched you think to yourself, biting your lip as your eyes so obviously flicked between his eyes and lips.

"Thank you, Tommy," you told him softly. "I needed this."

His smile faltered slightly as he continued to watch you. He sighed, unaware of his thumbs stroking patterns into your sides, "I didn't do it for you… but I'm happy to have helped."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted. Looking down at the penny, you smiled slowly and held it up. "How about a wager?" His subtle amusement encouraged you.

"If it's heads…you get me a new dress because you ripped mine to shreds."

He let out a small scoff, shaking his head gently.

"And if it's tails…" you smiled. You lifted your leg, slipping into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands found your arse, pulling you forward so your bodies were flush against each other. Your eyes fluttered as his cock brushed your pussy, already exciting you for the probable future. You focused on him again, "...you fuck me again—this time naked."

He smiled and nodded his head. "Toss the coin, Miss Gold."

You licked your lips as you readied it between your thumb and finger. Your eyes locked for a moment between moments, drinking each other like forbidden wine. You flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent, you caught it, and you took a moment to close your eyes and hope before you let it show.

You couldn't hide your elation as you picked up the coin and showed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," you smiled. "Tails."

"A deal's a deal." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in, "I would've fucked you otherwise." He kissed you in a mix of the roughness and sweet tenderness from earlier.

Between breaks, you sighed heavily. "Thank God because I need you," you confessed, kissing him again.

You undid his pants once more, this time pushing them down his legs and finally ridding him of them. He let you wear his shirt, refraining from admitting just how much he liked seeing you wear it.

The kiss was a mess as you devoured one another. He rocked your hips in his lap and you moaned at the pressure as his cock spread your lips apart. "Fuck, this is gonna be a long night," you hummed.

"Shut up and ride my cock," he demanded, not nearly as harsh as before but just as breathless as you now.

You smiled. "Yes, sir."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr Tag yourself here...

[novaursa]

Where Honor Burns

- Summary: After the tragedy Above the God's Eye, you decided to go to King's Landing, in hope to prevent more bloodshed. Even if it means your death.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and was bonded with Silverwing. These events happen right after The Chains We Break. To read all parts in chronological order visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Also, in this AU Rhaenyra never sized King's Landing.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 017

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs @sachaa-ff

- A/N: you guys liked this so much I've decided to push next part out early again, since I have the entire thing finnished already for some time and I feel unfair to keep it from you, as it's very well recived series. There will be one more part of this posted, then it's done. Enjoy. ❤️

The day dawns with gray skies, heavy with the weight of impending rain, as if the gods themselves mourn what has been lost. You stand at the edge of Dragonstone’s cliffs, fingers tightening around the rough parchment in your hand. The inked words smudge slightly from the salt in the air—or perhaps it is the tears you refuse to shed.

Daemon is dead.

The news is sharp and bitter on your tongue, like ashes. You should feel grief, yet what blooms in your chest is nothing more than an emptiness edged with relief. Daemon’s death severs the last frayed threads binding you to him, a marriage that was doomed from the moment it began. The years of ambition, control, and quiet disdain have left scars deeper than any sword could carve. The day you and Rhaenyra agreed to release Gwayne to Otto—sealed your doom as Daemon’s wife. He never forgave you for that. 

The sound of footsteps draws you from your thoughts. Vaeron approaches, his brow furrowed, his usually confident stride hesitant. He’s grown into a fine young man—strong and determined, the fire of Old Valyria running hot in his veins, a fire that no doubt still confused him, born as he was not of Daemon’s blood but of Gwayne’s. The tension between them had only worsened in recent months, yet Vaeron was still the same boy Daemon had taken under his wing, raising him as his own.

“Mother,” Vaeron’s voice is tight, the pain behind it unmistakable. “Is it true?”

You nod, unable to bring yourself to repeat the words. “Daemon and Aemond both perished above the Gods Eye.”

He inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, full with the silver of his true heritage. “He was a fool to challenge Aemond alone,” he murmurs, but there is no triumph in his voice, only a deep-seated sorrow. Despite everything, Vaeron still sought Daemon’s approval, still yearned for some semblance of affection from the man who had twisted the role of father into something cruel and cold. 

You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath his skin. “He made his choice, just as we all have,” you say, your voice soft yet firm. “This war has gone on long enough. Too much blood has been spilled, and more will be if we do nothing.”

Vaeron’s gaze sharpens as he looks at you, the young warrior ready for battle in his eyes, but beneath it lies uncertainty. “What are you planning, Mother?”

You straighten your back, steel in your voice as you declare, “I’m going to King’s Landing.”

The words hang in the air like a thunderclap. Vaeron’s eyes widen in shock, a flicker of fear quickly masked by anger. “You can’t! They’ll kill you the moment you set foot near the Red Keep. You’re the one who crippled Aegon at Rook’s Rest! They’ll flay you alive for that alone!”

A bitter smile touches your lips. “Perhaps. But we cannot keep hiding behind dragons and armies, waiting for a decisive blow that may never come. Rhaenyra has the right to the throne, but we cannot burn the realm to the ground for it. Someone must act before there’s nothing left to rule.”

“Mother, please,” Vaeron’s voice breaks with desperation now. “If not for yourself, then for me. You’re all I have left.” 

You feel the sting of tears prickling at the edges of your vision, but you blink them away. You’ve made your choice, and there is no room for doubt. You cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm, and see the boy you once cradled as a babe, a child of love born in secret. “I am doing this for you, Vaeron. For you, and for the realm. The bloodshed must end, and if it is my life that brings peace, then so be it.”

He looks at you, eyes shining with unshed tears, his jaw clenched. “You can’t do this alone.”

“No,” you agree, your voice softening. “But I must be the one to start it.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The wind howls around you, the sea crashing violently against the rocks below. Vaeron pulls away, shaking his head as if trying to ward off the inevitability of it all. “I’ll go with you,” he finally says, determination hardening in his voice.

You shake your head gently. “No, my son. You’re needed here. If things go wrong, Rhaenyra will need someone she can trust—someone with a clear head. You must protect your family, no matter what happens.”

He clenches his fists, trembling as he battles between wanting to protect you and knowing you’re right. “I hate this,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I hate all of it.”

“So do I,” you reply, your voice breaking. “But sometimes, we must do what is necessary, even if it costs us everything.”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his brow, and for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to hold him close, the way you did when he was small, and the world was far simpler. When you pull back, his face is set in a mask of determination, so much like yours when you were younger, filled with dreams and desires that have long since turned to ash.

“Stay strong, Vaeron. For our family. For the future.”

With that, you turn and walk back toward the fortress, your steps heavy with the weight of what you must do. Behind you, the wind carries the sound of your son’s quiet sobs, a painful reminder of all that this war has taken and what it will still demand before it is over. 

You do not look back. You cannot afford to.

You have a realm to save.

King’s Landing reeks of decay, the stench of rot clinging to every breath. Gwayne Hightower stands on one of the parapets overlooking the city, the once-proud banners of the Greens fluttering lifelessly in the breeze. His gaze is fixed on the distant horizon, where storm clouds gather ominously, but his thoughts are elsewhere—always elsewhere. No matter how far he tries to distance himself from the past, it haunts him relentlessly, like a ghost that refuses to be exorcised.

It has been months since his return to the capital, and yet every corner, every shadow in this city, reminds him of her. Of Y/N. His beloved, and the sister of the woman the Greens have fought so bitterly to keep from the throne. He grips the stone ledge tightly, knuckles white as he remembers the day he was brought back, humiliated and paraded like a traitor, a stain upon his family’s honor. 

He had expected death. He would have welcomed it if it meant sparing him from the hollow gaze of Ser Criston Cole, who had demanded his execution for treason. The memory of Cole’s cold sneer, his self-righteous fury, still makes Gwayne’s blood simmer. The man had practically salivated at the thought of executing him, of making an example out of the “traitorous” Hightower who had saved Rhaenyra’s sister from the flames at Rook’s Rest. He would never regret that decision. Not for all the power, gold, or prestige in the world. 

But it was not Cole who held Gwayne’s fate. It was his father, Otto, and his sister, the Dowager Queen Alicent, who intervened, silencing Cole’s demands with a forceful refusal. Yet, they had not been merciful. No, they had allowed the rotting head of Silverwing to be mounted for all to see, a cruel display meant to drive a wedge deeper into Gwayne’s heart. Silverwing, Y/N’s dragon, who had died protecting her—left to wither and decay like a forgotten relic. It was an injustice that Gwayne bore like a festering wound, a humiliation barely concealed beneath the mask of duty.

He shuts his eyes, and her face comes to him unbidden—the softness in her eyes that had never wavered, not even in the face of Daemon’s cold disdain, or the harsh realities of war. He remembers the warmth of her hand in his, the way her voice had soothed the fear in his heart, even when the world around them was crumbling. How could he not have saved her that day? How could anyone expect him to do anything less when it was her life at stake?

The rustle of skirts and the subtle scent of lavender and rosemary pulls him from his reverie. Gwayne opens his eyes, finding his sister standing beside him, her expression unreadable. Dowager Queen Alicent still carries herself with the grace of a woman who has shouldered too much, yet refuses to break beneath the weight. Her once fiery determination has dulled into a cold resolve, a woman shaped by grief and loss, and the endless machinations of court.

“Brother,” she greets softly, her voice carrying the echoes of weariness. “It’s been too long since we spoke.”

He offers her a tight nod, forcing the tension from his jaw. “It has, Your Grace.” The formality is deliberate, a barrier between them. Though they share blood, the distance between them has grown insurmountable over the years. 

Alicent’s eyes flicker with something—regret, perhaps?—before she turns her gaze to the city below. “I’ve heard whispers that you’ve been restless of late. The men say you spend too much time brooding alone, staring into the distance as if searching for answers the gods have hidden from us.”

“I am where I am needed, as you and Father commanded,” he replies curtly, unwilling to entertain her probing. He knows what she’s doing. She’s always been good at drawing out what’s hidden beneath the surface, even when he wishes she wouldn’t.

She sighs softly, a sound filled with unspoken words. “You blame us for what was done to Silverwing.”

Gwayne’s grip tightens on the stone again. He doesn’t deny it. “It was a needless cruelty. She was a noble creature who died protecting her rider. Displaying her head like that—it was an insult to the memory of what she represented.”

“An insult, perhaps,” Alicent admits, her tone carefully measured. “But it was necessary. The people needed a symbol, something to remind them of the cost of defiance.”

He scoffs, bitterness curling his lips. “Defiance? Is that what you call saving someone I love?”

The admission slips out before he can stop it, the rawness of his emotions slicing through the air between them. Alicent’s eyes widen slightly, surprise momentarily breaking through her composed mask. But she recovers quickly, her gaze softening as she studies him. “You still think of her.”

“Every day,” Gwayne says quietly, the ache in his chest tightening. “I think of her every godsdamned day, and I regret nothing. You can have me stripped of titles, cast me into the black cells, and I would still choose to save her.”

For a long moment, there is silence between them, broken only by the distant clamor of the city below. Alicent’s eyes are misty as she watches him, her lips parting as if she’s searching for words that won’t come.

Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Love makes fools of us all, Gwayne. It blinds us to what is prudent, to what is wise. I once knew a man who would have risked everything for love, but time and circumstance have a way of teaching us that such devotion often leads to ruin.”

Gwayne meets her gaze, defiance burning in his eyes. “Then let me be a fool, Sister. I would rather be a fool than a coward who sacrifices what is right for what is safe.”

A flicker of pain crosses Alicent’s face at his words, but she doesn’t flinch. “I pray that the choices you’ve made do not bring you to ruin, Gwayne. We’re all caught in this web of power and bloodshed, each of us trying to hold onto what little we have left.”

Her words linger, heavy with the weight of their shared burdens. Gwayne looks away, his heart still tethered to thoughts of Y/N, of what might have been had the world been kinder, had fate been less cruel.

But the world is what it is—a place of suffering, where even the most noble acts are punished and love is a weakness to be exploited. Yet, even knowing that, he would still choose her. Every time.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now,” Gwayne says after a long pause, his voice thick with resignation. “Daemon and Aemond are dead. The game we’ve all played has grown cold, and soon it will be Rhaenyra or Aegon who claims the last move.”

“Perhaps,” Alicent murmurs, though her eyes are distant, as if she’s looking at something far beyond this moment. “But war has a way of devouring everything in its path. Whatever happens next, we must be ready.”

Gwayne doesn’t reply. His thoughts drift back to Y/N, to her strength and the resolve she must be clinging to now. He wonders where she is, if she’s safe, and if she ever thinks of him the way he thinks of her. 

But such thoughts are a luxury he cannot afford. He is here, bound by duty, trapped in a city where his only solace is the memory of what once was—and the unshakable knowledge that he would do it all over again, consequences be damned.

The clouds overhead break, and the first droplets of rain begin to fall. As the chill seeps into his bones, Gwayne turns away from the edge, leaving the ghosts of what might have been behind, even if they’ll never truly leave him.

The streets of King’s Landing are thick with discord, and the air hums with the whispers of the crowds. The cobblestones are slick with grime and spilled wine as people press closer to watch, their eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity. The moment you arrived at the city gates, there was no ceremony, no dignity—only the iron grip of Ser Criston Cole’s men as they dragged you from your mount, jeering insults trailing in their wake.

“Look at the whore! Just like her sister!”

The words sting like poisoned arrows, yet you hold your head high, refusing to break. The crowd surges, pressing closer, feeding on the spectacle of your humiliation. You’ve been paraded through the streets like a common criminal, Cole’s grip never loosening as he drags you closer to the Red Keep, his eyes alight with vindictive satisfaction. It’s clear he’s been waiting for this moment, to claim victory over the woman —Rhaenyra— who once defied him and the family he serves so devoutly.

He stops abruptly before the gates of the Red Keep, turning to the gathered throng with a sneer curling his lips. “Behold! The dragon’s whore, sister to the pretender queen, come to grovel for mercy she does not deserve!” His voice carries, cold and mocking, inciting the crowd further. They howl their approval, eager for blood—yours or anyone else’s. It makes no difference to them.

But you do not bow your head. You meet Cole’s gaze with icy defiance, refusing to let him see how your heart hammers in your chest. The memories of Silverwing’s rotting head flash in your mind, a stark reminder of the cruelty that awaits you here. But you force yourself to stand tall. You’ve faced worse than this.

You’re brought into the throne room, where Alicent Hightower and her father, Otto, wait. Aegon’s absence is notable, but you know the reason. The rumors speak of his broken body, of his delirious cries as the milk of the poppy steals his sanity away. The once-proud king is now nothing more than a husk, a shadow of the tyrant he once was.

Alicent’s expression is tight with a mixture of weariness and caution, her eyes flicking between you and Cole as if assessing the weight of this confrontation. Otto stands beside her, his face carved from stone, every line etched with ambition and ruthlessness. It’s clear they intend to wring every ounce of leverage from this moment.

“You have a great deal of nerve coming here,” Otto begins, his voice clipped, “knowing the crimes you’ve committed against this family and this realm. You crippled the king, threw the Greens into disarray, and now you slink back like a beggar, expecting what? Mercy? Forgiveness?”

You square your shoulders, refusing to cower. “I came to end the bloodshed. How many more sons, brothers, and fathers must die before you realize that this war has no victors? Only ashes.”

Alicent’s eyes darken, the mention of sons clearly striking a nerve. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, the doors burst open, and Gwayne strides in, his face a mask of barely-contained fury.

“Enough of this!” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the chamber. He moves to rush toward you, but Cole steps forward, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, blocking Gwayne’s path.

“Stay back, Ser Gwayne. This is not your concern,” Cole snaps, his disdain for Gwayne evident in every word.

Gwayne’s eyes blaze as he turns his glare on Cole. “Not my concern? You dare speak to me of what concerns me when you’ve dragged the mother of my son through the streets like some common criminal? You’ve no right to degrade her like this!”

Otto’s eyes narrow at his son, but his voice remains calm, almost condescending. “You forget your place, Gwayne. This is not a matter for your heart to decide. The woman stands accused of treason, of crimes against the Crown.”

“I care nothing for your accusations, Father!” Gwayne’s voice cracks with the intensity of his emotions. “I will not stand by while you humiliate the woman I love—while you let her suffer when this war has already taken too much from all of us!”

There is a silence that follows his words, thick with the weight of what he’s just confessed. Alicent’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, her gaze softening with a flicker of sympathy as she studies her brother’s desperate expression. She’s lost so much—Aemond to the skies above the Gods Eye, Daeron at Tumbleton, and Aegon reduced to a broken shell. For a moment, her mask of cold resolve cracks.

“What would you have me do, Gwayne?” she asks quietly, almost pleading. “What resolution is there, when every path leads to more bloodshed?”

Gwayne takes a step forward, his voice gentler now, imploring. “Let me marry her. Let Viserys’ refusal be buried with him. If we end this cycle of vengeance, perhaps—just perhaps—we can stop this madness. Rhaenyra’s forces are strong, but even she tires of the bloodshed. The realm cannot survive more of this conflict.”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, uncertainty warring with her long-held beliefs. “Marrying her would be an insult to the Greens, to everything we’ve fought for. How can you ask me to allow such a union?”

“Because you’ve already lost two sons,” Gwayne says, his voice raw with pain. “Daemon is dead, and so is Aemond. Aegon is no longer fit to rule. You know it, Alicent. We’re fighting a war for a crown that no one truly wants anymore—not in the way it once mattered. The people starve, the dragons die, and for what? The Iron Throne is a curse, not a prize. Let there be peace. Let us find some measure of hope before it all crumbles to dust.”

His words hang heavy in the air, each one a plea, not just for your freedom, but for an end to the suffering that has stained this realm. Alicent looks away, tears glistening in her eyes as the truth of his words gnaws at her heart. 

Otto, however, is unmoved. “You would throw away every gain we’ve made for the whims of your heart? This woman’s marriage to Daemon was a slight to our family’s honor from the beginning. To accept her now would be to admit defeat.”

But before Gwayne can respond, Alicent raises a hand, silencing them both. Her voice is quiet, but it carries the full weight of her authority. “No, Father. Perhaps Gwayne is right. How much more can we lose before there is nothing left worth protecting?” Her gaze turns back to you, and for the first time, you see not just a queen, but a mother who has lost almost everything. “If there is a chance to end this, to save what remains of our families, then we must take it.”

Gwayne exhales shakily, relief flooding his features as he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Let me marry her, Alicent. Let this be the beginning of something better—something that might actually last.”

Alicent stares at you for a long, agonizing moment, weighing the choice before her. Then, finally, she nods, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Very well. The marriage will be sanctioned. But know this—if this decision leads to more chaos, more ruin, it will be on your head, Gwayne.”

Gwayne bows his head in gratitude, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Sister.”

Cole steps back reluctantly, anger simmering in his eyes, but he knows better than to openly defy the queen. As the tension in the room finally begins to ease, Gwayne moves to your side, his fingers brushing against yours, a touch meant to ground you both after everything that has happened.

You meet his gaze, the storm of emotions within you barely held in check. This was not the path you envisioned, nor the life you had dreamed of, but it is the one before you now. And perhaps, in this fragile truce, there is a glimmer of hope—for your son, for Gwayne, and for the future you might yet carve from the ruins of war.

For now, you allow yourself the comfort of his presence, knowing that whatever comes next, you won’t face it alone.

The room is dimly lit, the flickering light of candles casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The scent of roses and herbs wafts through the air as the servants bustle around you, their hands quick but gentle as they prepare your bath. You can barely focus on their movements; your mind is still spinning from the events of the day, from the jeers of the crowd to the cold fury in Otto’s eyes. Your body aches, the cuts and scrapes from being dragged through the streets stinging sharply with every brush of fabric against your skin.

When you finally lower yourself into the steaming water, a hiss escapes your lips as the heat bites into your wounds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out, determined not to show even the smallest sign of weakness. The water slowly works its way into your muscles, easing some of the tension, but your thoughts remain a tangled mess. You think of Vaeron, of what he must be feeling, and of Gwayne—the man who risked everything for you, who still fights for you.

The sound of the door creaking open draws your attention. You glance up, expecting one of the servants, but instead, you see Gwayne. His presence fills the room, his eyes blazing with barely-contained anger. The servants freeze, their hands mid-task, exchanging nervous glances.

“Out,” Gwayne says, his voice low and commanding.

The servants hesitate, torn between obeying their orders and respecting the strict instructions they’ve been given by Otto. But Gwayne steps forward, his gaze hardening. “I said out,” he repeats, more sharply this time.

The authority in his voice leaves no room for argument. The servants bow hastily, gathering their things and scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with him. The door closes behind them with a resounding thud, and the room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker.

You watch Gwayne as he strides toward you, his expression softening as he takes in the sight of you in the bath. But there’s still a dark fury simmering beneath the surface, a quiet rage barely held in check. He kneels beside the tub, his eyes raking over your body, lingering on the cuts and bruises that mar your skin. His jaw tightens as he reaches out, his fingertips grazing a particularly nasty scrape on your arm.

“They did this to you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with barely-suppressed anger. “Cole did this to you.”

You can see the guilt in his eyes, as if he blames himself for not being there, for not stopping it before it happened. You reach out and touch his hand, trying to reassure him, but the moment your skin meets his, something shifts between you. The air grows thick with tension, a tension that has been simmering for far too long.

“Gwayne,” you whisper, but it’s all you manage to say before the words are stolen from your lips by the intensity in his gaze.

Without a word, he leans forward, cupping your face with both hands, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. His touch is soft, almost reverent, but beneath it, you feel the tremor of barely-contained desire, of need and longing that has been held back for far too long. He moves closer, and you feel his breath against your lips, warm and ragged.

“I can’t bear seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t stand knowing what they did to you, how they hurt you.” His eyes darken, his expression raw. “You deserve so much more. You deserve everything, and all they’ve ever given you is pain.”

His words are laced with a desperation that pulls at something deep within you. You’ve both suffered so much, sacrificed so much, and yet, here you are, still drawn to each other with a pull that’s stronger than duty or fear.

You don’t know who moves first—whether it’s you or him—but suddenly his lips are on yours, and the dam that’s held back your desire for so long shatters. The kiss is not soft or tentative; it’s fierce, fueled by months of longing and years of denied affection. His hands cradle your face, and you respond with equal fervor, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, turning frantic, as if you’re both afraid that if you stop, the world will tear you apart again. You can taste the salt of your own tears mingling with his as he kisses you with a passion that’s almost overwhelming. Your bodies move of their own accord, and before you know it, you’re both reaching for each other with a desperate urgency.

Gwayne pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes searching yours, filled with a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation. “Let me have you,” he breathes, his voice husky. “Let me show you how much I need you.”

You nod, the words caught in your throat, and he rises to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours as he sheds his cloak and begins to unlace his tunic. You watch, your heart pounding, as he strips away the layers, revealing the body you’ve longed for, the one that’s haunted your dreams. There’s no more hesitation, no more fear—only desire, raw and unbridled.

He steps closer, helping you out of the bath, his hands warm against your damp skin. You undress him as he guides you toward the bed, your hands trembling with anticipation. The kiss is reignited the moment you’re close enough, fiercer now, more demanding. There’s no gentleness this time—only a primal need to feel each other, to claim and be claimed.

When he finally presses you down onto the bed, there’s nothing slow or tender about the way he moves into you. It’s not like the times you’ve been together before, where every touch was measured, every caress deliberate. This time, it’s raw, almost rough, driven by months of pent-up desire and longing. He thrusts into you with a desperation that makes you gasp, your body arching beneath him as you cling to him, meeting each of his movements with your own.

It’s frantic, unrelenting—a tangle of limbs and fevered kisses as you both give in completely to the storm that’s been brewing between you. Every thrust is a declaration, every kiss a vow unspoken. There’s no room for words, only the sounds of your shared pleasure, the feel of his body against yours as he takes you with a hunger that has no end.

You’re both lost in it, in the release of everything you’ve held back for so long. The tension, the heartache, the desire—it all spills out in this moment, leaving you breathless, trembling with the intensity of it all. You give yourself over to him completely, letting him take you in every way you were once denied, and he meets you with the same fervor, as if he’s been starving for you.

And then, in the midst of it all, you reach your peak together, a wave of pleasure crashing over you both. The world narrows down to this single, perfect moment—where there is no war, no crowns or thrones—just the two of you, lost in each other.

Afterward, you collapse against him, both of you breathless, your hearts pounding in tandem. Gwayne wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He presses a lingering kiss to your hair, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your back.

“I should never have let you go,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world outside seems distant and unimportant. “You didn’t let me go,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his lips. “We were both trapped by the choices others made for us. But now… now, we have a chance.”

His grip tightens around you, a silent vow in the way he holds you close. “I won’t let them hurt you again,” he promises, his voice low and fierce. “No matter what happens, you’ll never be alone. Not anymore.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself believe in that promise, even if it’s only for this fleeting moment.

[heytheredelulu]

ready to comply part 2? 👉👈

As you wish!

I may have left this one on a cliff hanger as well. 🫣

I’M SORRY! I was just having so much fun I had to leave it open in case there was interest for a part three. ❤️

Ready to Comply - Part Two

Requested by @littleone2001

Soldat!Bucky Barnes x PlusSized!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, gun play (sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex, rough sex, a lil boob slap (once, because I had to), spanking, fingering (f receiving), anal fingering (f receiving), brief discussion of kidnapping/making reader his sex slave

✏️ A/N at the end.

“All I can smell is how wet you are.”

Oh fuck.

You muster up a small, broken sound from your chest when the realization finally hits you that your desire is overwhelming Bucky’s senses to the point that he’s struggling just to think.

“I-“

His fingers hook beneath the saturated fabric of your panties, his fingers grazing against your folds and igniting a heat in your body that sets your nerves on fire.

He tears them away, reducing them to a tattered rag in his fist which he brings to his nose and inhales deeply before he discards them to the floor with a growl.

He forces your thick thighs apart, spreading you open with his trembling fingers to observe your tight, wet hole as it clenches desperately around nothing.

“Fuck!”

His breath catches in his chest and he stumbles back, withdrawing the gun from his shoulder holster and brandishing it at you.

Your eyes widen as you snap your legs shut, raising your hands defensively and shrinking back in horror.

Bucky steps forward and presses the barrel of the gun against your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out.

“You’re going to kill me.” You whisper, fear taking hold as your eyes screw shut and a tear slips down your cheek.

He shakes his head slowly, tracing the cool metal of his weapon along your jawline. “No, I ain’t gonna kill you. Not yet.”

Your eyes open, your expression twisting into one of confusion. “Then why.. why are you sorry?”

He sets his jaw, lifting his left hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Because I’m gonna hurt you.” He rasps.

Your brows knit in concern. “What do y-“

Bucky cuts you short, replying only by dipping his gun between your legs, pressing it firmly against your bare, weeping cunt.

Your entire body seizes in terror but as he drags the cool, hard weapon along your slick folds, the fear gives way to something else entirely.

“You don’t wanna hurt me..” You say slowly, carefully, biting back a moan as the barrel of the gun grazes across your clit.

“But I do.” He taunts, pulling the gun away and gripping your jaw with bruising force. He presses it to your mouth, your slick coating the metal and wetting your bottom lip. “Open.” He growls, leaving you little choice with how hard he’s holding your chin. He forces the gun into your mouth, your eyes wide in apprehension. “Suck.” He demands, pressing it down on your tongue. You swirl your tongue around it, tasting yourself on the bitter metal. He groans, withdrawing it harshly from your mouth with a string of spittle and tucking it back into its holster.

“I’m gonna fuck you. And it’s gonna hurt.” He mutters, his calloused fingers moving to unbuckle his belt.

“Bucky y-“ He pinches your cheeks together painfully in his metal hand, effectively silencing you.

“Quit fuckin’ calling me that!” He snaps, using his grip on your jaw to yank you forward to him.

“Soldat.” He corrects in a menacing tone, nodding your head for you to ensure you understood.

“That is my name. I suggest you remember it, because you’re about to be screaming it.”

He releases your face harshly, reaching to pull his hard, thick cock from his jeans and spitting into his palm. He curls his hand around his impressive length and pumps himself lazily from base to tip, rubbing his thumb roughly over the slit and smearing beads of precum along his shaft to mingle with his saliva.

Your eyes follow every stroke of his hand as he closes in on you, your brain working to comprehend just how in the hell your body was going to accommodate his size.

He’s right. This is going to hurt.

He clutches the neckline of your dress with his free hand, ripping and tearing the fabric until you’re bared to him and he kneads at your breast roughly pinching the pebbled flesh of your nipple harshly between his fingers, drawing a small cry from you.

“Buc-“ You stammer.

He slaps your tit hard and you wince from the sting as it radiates across the tender flesh of your ample breast.

“Soldat.” He growls through clenched teeth, hiking your legs to rest your heels on his shoulders and tilting your pelvis upwards as he lines himself up with your aching entrance.

You suck in a sharp breath as the crown of his cock breeches your tight, wet hole and you writhe underneath him against the sting as he splits you open, stretching your cunt and filling you in a way you’ve never experienced.

A shameless moan erupts from your throat when he begins to snap his hips, fucking into you with a merciless rhythm. What was once pain is quickly building into pleasure and your back arches up off the desk.

“So fucking tight.” He grunts, his heavy sack swinging with every deep thrust into your dripping cunt. His jaw clenches and he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading you wider as he tucks his chin to watch himself disappear into your wet heat with a predatory gaze.

Pleasure builds in your abdomen and you rock your hips to meet his hungry thrusts, biting down on your bottom lip as his thick cock massages your inner walls. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s biting back a smirk when he registers you eagerly moving in sync with him. He snakes a hand down between you, tracing his fingers along the girth of his cock where he’s filling you and gathers your slick along his fingertips, raising his hand and spreading his fingers to admire the sheen of your wetness with a thoughtful expression.

Without warning he withdraws, leaving you desperate and empty when he lets your right leg drop and curls his hand around your left ankle, flipping you hard onto your stomach. He grabs your hips and yanks you backwards towards him so you’re bent over your desk with the lip of it biting into your pelvis. He delivers a harsh smack to your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand, then dipping his head down to suck a bruise into the skin before biting down hard into your plump cheek. You yelp and raise yourself up on your palms, but Bucky splays a large, calloused hand across your back, forcing you back down and kicking your legs wider with the toe of his boot.

He plunges two fingers in your thoroughly fucked hole, coating them in your arousal before withdrawing them and sinking his cock back into your swollen cunt. Strangled noises of pleasure catch in your throat and you push your hips back greedily to meet him, your walls throbbing around him as ruts into you, his balls slapping against your clit and sending shockwaves through you with every brutal thrust.

He spreads your ass cheeks roughly, teasing his wet index finger along your backside, circling your puckered hole and causing you to squirm. He presses into you, working his finger in sync with his hips, massaging it into you until you manage to take him to the knuckle and he lets out a satisfied groan that you nearly drown out in your own wanton moan.

“Fuck.” He rasps out, pain blooming as he moves to add a second finger. You cry out at the intrusion, your hands clenching into fists above your head and your nails biting into your palms as he rocks his fingers into you, scissoring you open.

You thought you’d been full when it was only his cock but fuck, were you wrong.

It was too much.

It was too good.

The tension wound tight in your abdomen finally snaps and you completely shatter.

A choked sob rips from your throat and your pussy spasms, your walls fluttering around his cock and your asshole contracting around his fingers as you scream, your orgasm tearing through you with enough force to make your head spin and your ears ring.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He slips his fingers from your tight hole, grabbing hold of your hips with both hands and slamming into you with unrelenting force, fucking you through each wave of euphoria as they crashed over you in succession.

“I’m gonna tell them I killed you.” He grunts, his cock kissing your cervix. “So no one will ever come looking for you.”

You mumble incoherently, tears of ecstasy staining your cheeks as you lay limp in the wake of your earth shattering release while he continues to pound into you at a steady pace.

“I think I’ll keep you tied to my bed.” He whispers in a menacing tone, his thrusts growing frantic as he chases his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna fuck every hole in your body, every day, until you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

Bucky snaps his hips forward in one last powerful thrust and then stills, shouting a string of curses as his cock pulses and he pulls your plump ass flush to his pelvis, emptying himself deep inside of you.

He tilts his head back, his chest rising and falling erratically and then pulls out, staggering back as you rise up and turn to face him with flushed cheeks and hair slicked against your sweaty forehead.

“Get dressed.” He orders, tugging his jeans up and fastening his belt. “You’re coming with me.”

You nod and move on weak knees, feeling his cum slowly leaking from your cunt as you gather your blazer. He watches you carefully as you pull it on, buttoning it in an attempt to cover your naked body.

Bucky holds out his hand impatiently and you take it, cautiously moving closer to him, your thighs sticky as they rub together with every step you take.

You place a palm flat against his chest and he looks down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion at your gentle gesture before you rise up on your tiptoes, pressing your mouth against his. He stiffens momentarily but quickly reciprocates, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in a silent demand to deepen the kiss. You comply, moving your tongue slowly against his in a sensual dance and tracing your hands along his broad chest as you lean further into him.

When you break the kiss abruptly and step back out of his embrace, he blinks in bewilderment before his face contorts into rage as he registers that he’s staring into the barrel of his own gun.

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe

A/N: My husband gave me so much shit for this while I was writing it: tHiS iSnT cAnOn, BuCkY wOuLdNt Do ThAt, iT dOeSnT mAkE sEnSe

Look, I know. It’s a fanfic, it’s AU, it’s not canon.

Anyway, now I’m really anxious about posting this, worried that it won’t meet your expectations. So I hope you enjoy so I can tell my husband to suck it. 😈

💋Sj

[moonstruckme]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 7K MAE THAT’S AMAZING YAYAYAYAYAYAYA 😭 could i please have an apple pie with sirius and prompt 27? 💖

Of course you can!

²⁷⁾ sirens at midnight 

neighbor!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 528 words

You spot Sirius as soon as he comes outside, though you tell yourself you weren’t looking for him. He’s got a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair is disheveled and poofy. He squints in the streetlight, looking through the sea of your neighbors until he finds you, too. 

You wave lamely. 

He makes his way over. The fire alarm from your apartment building is nearly deafening even outside. Even when Sirius is right in front of you, you have to raise your voice to be heard. 

“Glad to see you’re not charred beyond recognition.” 

“I tried to go back to sleep for awhile,” Sirius replies. “I hoped it might shut up. Who set it off?” 

You shake your head, pulling your coat tighter around you as the wind picks up. You’re only wearing your pajamas underneath, much like everyone else here. “I don’t know.” 

Sirius pulls his blanket closer, too, glowering all your neighbors around you. “I’m gonna kill them.” 

“Oh.” You can’t find it in you to be surprised, but you do yawn, covering your mouth with a hand. “I don’t know how you’d have the energy.” 

“I’ll find it.” Sirius joins you, leaning against the side of your building. 

“When do you think they’ll let us back in?” you ask.

He groans. “It’ll probably be forever. The fire department has to come, and they have to sweep everything…I may as well go in to work now.” 

“Dressed like that?” 

Sirius gives you a sideways grin. “They’re lucky I come in at all. And if the blanket slips a bit, it’ll probably just earn me some extra tips.” 

You laugh. “Are you not wearing pajamas underneath?” 

“I’m wearing my pajamas. Some of us choose more modesty in bed than others, gorgeous.” 

Your face heats ferociously, but the silence that lapses between you isn’t uncomfortable. You watch your neighbors try to calm frenetic pets, swap coats and coverings against the chill, fall asleep on each other while sitting on the curb. Despite the wailing of the alarm, your own eyelids start to feel heavy again. 

When it finally cuts out, your relief is so immense you drop your head to Sirius’ shoulder without a thought. 

“Thank god,” you mumble. 

“What was that?” Sirius teases. “My ears are still ringing.” 

In the new silence, you hear sirens approaching. Red lights glow in the distance. 

“That’ll be the fire crew,” he says. You realize your head is still on his shoulder, and you lift it to find Sirius looking at you. He seems more awake than he had been. “Do you want to get out of here for a while? We could grab a coffee and wait them out.” 

“Is anywhere even open right now?” 

“Absolutely.” He gestures down the block with his chin. “That cafe there? Open twenty four hours a day, just for us.” 

“Nice of them. Are you okay to go like that?” you ask, though you’re already walking with him. 

“What, like this?” Sirius spreads his arms halfway open, giving you a brief view of his tattooed chest and boxers. “Sweetness, I might even get us a free meal. Don’t worry about me.” 

[fairytalelover33]

Are Those Tears?

Thorin x Female Reader

Prompt: When Thorin stares death in the face, you both realize your feelings for each other may be a little stronger than friendship.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Some slight blood/gore, mentions of death, Thorin being a softie for once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing could have prepared you for this journey. No amount of training would have sufficed. The whole company making it this far virtually intact was a miracle within itself. You had all survived attempt after attempt on your lives. It seemed that the odds of completing this journey were in your favor, having escaped each encounter with mere scrapes and bruises.

But this time you might not be so lucky.

The muscles in your arms and core ache, as you cling desperately to the branch of a fallen tree on the edge of a cliff, your legs dangling hundreds of feet above the ground. You can hear the grunts and bellows of your incapacitated comrades, confirming that they are in the same predicament as you. The snarls and howls of the Wargs add to the cacophony, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You realize that the only thing keeping the large predators and their riders from swooping in and slaughtering you all is the blazing fire surrounding the tree you all cling to. Azog the defiler sits astride a white Warg, pacing back and forth in front of the wall of flames separating them from you. You see Azog and his mutt pause in their pacing, the pale orc's scarred face hardening.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"Thorin, no!" Balin exclaims quietly. You lift your head as a large boot plants onto the tree trunk next to you. The figure makes his way past, through the flames, towards the pale orc. The long dark hair, peppered with streaks of grey, the broad shoulders, the determined stride. It was unmistakably Thorin.

No.

A sudden wave of desperation crashes over you, making your stomach turn. You just want to reach out and grab him, yank him back. You want to scream, to beg, to yell at him to just turn around. Your breathing becomes ragged, and one quiet word manages to claw its way out of your throat, repeating over and over under your breath, like a prayer waiting to be answered.

"No. No. No. No." Thorin's steps do not falter, his sword glinting in the light of the blazing inferno that lines his path. It feels as though the world is moving in slow motion as Thorin charges the pale orc, armed with his sword and his shield. His Oaken Shield. How life has a funny way of coming full circle. Azog the defiler guides his pale furred Warg in a mighty leap from the boulder he had been perched upon.

The blow dealt to Thorin as the white Warg collides with him in mid-air snaps you back to reality with a rush of dread. The force of the beasts bodyweight stops Thorin in his tracks, sending him crashing to earth. Reality sets in as you hear the rest of the company fighting the pull of gravity, straining to hold on to the strand of life that is this fallen tree.

Azog wheels his pale beast around, charging at Thorin once more, and sending a bone rattling blow of his mace to the dwarf's chest, knocking him back to the ground. A pang hits you directly in your heart, and flows through your bloodstream, some desperate feeling you can't quite place seeping into your very bones. You don't understand the feeling well enough to give it a name. All you know is that it gives you enough strength to muscle yourself up with a strangled cry, huffing and gritting your teeth as you clamber up to the trunk of the tree. You can barely feel the heat that burns the palms of your hands, red and raw from clinging to the rough bark of the tree branch.

The Hobbit, Bilbo, seems to have the same rush of bravery that you do, and you see his small form scramble up to the trunk of the tree, pausing to take one deep breath to right his turbulent mind before charging into the fray, armed with his little elvish knife.

The wretched hound of hell clamps its jaws around Thorin. The sickening sound of Thorin's ribs cracking reaches your ears, making your head swim. You can feel yourself call out his name in agony, but it sounds like someone else's voice is coming from your mouth as you stumble a few steps along the fallen tree. You right yourself in time to see the mutt toss Thorin like a farm dog tosses a snake, his form crashing onto a patch of hard rock on the hillside.

"(Y/N)!" Balin shouts as you start hauling it to where Thorin lays, hot on Bilbo's heels. "No, Lass! It's too dangerous!" No response comes from your lips, your mouth set in a grimace as you have a clear view out to where one of the Defilers minions is preparing to behead Thorin. He lies pinned upon the rocky ground, his breathing ragged, teeth clenched in defiance as he grasps around desperately for his sword.

You quickly overtake Bilbo, and with a muffled grunt you stiffen your shoulders, tackling the Orc with the force of your body weight, bowling it over. You can hear Azog's roar of dissent as you stop the orcs deadly blow mid swing. A sharp pain explodes like a lightning strike in your right shoulder, making you cry out. As you and the orc tumble away from Thorin, the filthy monster rolls atop you with a snarl, pinning you down. You struggle futilely beneath it, flailing like a madman, grasping for something, anything to protect yourself, and finding nothing. The orc raises its armored fist, pulling back to deliver a skull crushing blow.

Suddenly, the orc shrieks, blood spewing from its mouth, spraying you in the face. It falls to the side, revealing a fiery eyed Bilbo, delivering continuous blows with his small, but mighty blade. You gasp for air, viciously wiping your face with the sleeve of your tunic and scrambling away.

You crawl to the barely conscious form of Thorin, not caring about the rocks and twigs scraping your skin through the thin fabric of your clothing. Ignoring the shooting pain in your shoulder, you pull yourself up to your knees, cradling his head in your lap. His half-lidded gaze holds yours for a moment, as if trying to see into your very soul. A thin sheen of sweat coats his face as he murmurs a single word, before slipping into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

"(Y/N)..." Thorin breathes out softly. If you had not been watching his lips move you would have assumed you imagined it. His eyes flicker shut, his ragged gasps slowing to shallow breaths. Tears well up in your eyes as you brush some of his sweat drenched hair from his regal face.

"Just hold on. Please." You whimper helplessly, gazing down at him. You look up to see the heart wrenching sight of Bilbo all alone, standing his ground as the monsters descend upon you, his hands shaking as he holds his sword at the ready. The hobbit plants his feet, swinging his sword wildly around in an attempt to intimidate the foes before him. Sparks fly from the burning portion of forest that surrounds you, and you feel a deep sadness, wondering if this is truly the end of your adventure.

You take another moment to gaze down at Thorin. You trace his face with your eyes, trying to memorize every feature and contour. Running your thumb over his cheekbone in a way you would have never been brave enough to do before, a sigh escapes your lips. With a shaky breath, you lean down, hesitating for a moment before pressing a feather soft kiss to his forehead, holding back the tears that threaten to spill. Wishing more than anything that you had been brave enough to tell him how you feel, you now vow to not go down a weeping, helpless mess. You hold back your tears, forcing yourself to stare defiantly back at the group of vicious carnivores that approach the three of you.

One of the Wargs snaps its head to the side, sniffing the air. A sudden battle cry makes you start, and you whip your gaze in the direction of the commotion. Your spirit lifts as the unmistakable figures of Fili and Kili come charging in from a gap in the flames, tailed closely by Dwalin. They attack the Wargs and their riders swiftly, slicing and hacking with their weapons. You try to get up to help, but your energy is sapped from wrestling the Orc. You opt to be a close-range protector to Thorin, crouching in front of him, your fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword that you spotted lying a few feet away.

A vicious noise that you didn't know you were capable of making tears its way through your throat as a Warg stalks toward Thorin with a snarl. You grip the hilt of the sword tighter, your knuckles white as you prepare to fight tooth and nail to protect Thorin. You shift on your feet as you crouch low, poised to spring up and drive the blade straight through the roof of the beasts' mouth and into its brain.

Before you get the chance, a giant flurry of wind and feathers scoops up the Warg, the beast yelping as it is hurled unceremoniously from the cliffside. You scramble back slightly, your mouth falling open as you look to the sky in disbelief and slight fear.

Eagles bigger than you have ever seen circle the cliffs edge, swooping in to snatch and dispose of the Wargs and their riders. Some of the mighty birds use the wind from their wings to fan the flames that burn the forest, singeing a group of mutts. You feel a moment of peace, but it doesn't last long. Your eyes widen slightly, terror etching your face as one of the birds makes a beeline for you.

"Wait. Wait! WAIT!" You shriek, as the giant bird envelops you in its claws. The fur of Thorin's jacket, which you had been holding on to, slips from your grasp as the creature tosses you off the edge of the cliff. You tumble through the air, screaming bloody murder, before landing with a thud on the back of another eagle, knocking the wind out of you slightly. You curse under your breath as you gasp for air, trying to regain your bearings. Your eyes scan around, realizing that every member of the company was either caged safely in the claws of one of the Avians, or sat comfortably atop one.

You hear a rage filled roar in the distance as the eagles whisk you all away. You feel a pit in your stomach, realizing that Azog is still alive, and you know that he will never stop hunting down the line of Durin. Your stomach drops as your worried mind flickers back to Thorin. You try to spot him, your eyes scanning each of the birds. The morning sun makes it nearly impossible, partially blinding you. You tuck your face into the soft feathers you sit upon, tears pricking your eyes as you pray the eagles will land soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Groggily lifting your bruised and battered head, you scan around, realizing the eagles are making their descent. They all circle slowly down, landing atop a rocky spire, where you can see for miles around. Your eagle lands last, and your heart drops as you see Thorin lying still upon the flat ground, the company standing around him. You slide down from the back of the eagle, crumpling slightly as your legs hit the ground. Fili and Kili appear at your side almost instantly, supporting you under your arms as you try to regain your balance. You wince as Kili bumps your shoulder, hissing through your teeth.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Kili asks in concern, releasing your arm slightly.

"Yes, I just... never mind me." You tear your eyes away from Thorin, finding Bilbo a few feet away. You pull away from the brothers, limping over to hug Bilbo. "Thank you." You whisper, pulling back and meeting Bilbo's gaze. He nods, and nothing else needs to be said. Bilbo is smart enough to be able to read the emotion behind your eyes. Your hand rests on his shoulder, and you both smile softly before you turn your gaze back to Thorin.

Gandalf kneels beside Thorin, his hand hovering over his face as he murmurs some spell over his unconscious form. You can feel the tears of desperation welling up in your eyes as you look on helplessly, silently begging whatever God is listening to please, let him live. You can feel yourself shaking as the company waits with bated breath. Then, his eyes finally flutter open, the dwarf drawing a deep breath.

Hot tears fall from your eyes, and you don't bother to stop them. You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. He lives. He clambers to his feet, aided by Dwalin and Kili. He shakes them off, the angry look on his face surprising you all. He locks eyes with you, before flickering his gaze to Bilbo.

"You two." Thorin says in an accusing tone, glaring at the both of you. A confused look crosses your face, the rest of the company looking on.

"What were you doing?" Thorin snaps. "You nearly got yourselves killed!" Your eyes lock onto his, and you don't bother wiping the tears from your face as you stand bewildered.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden?" Thorin hisses, stalking towards you. "That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?" You hold his gaze, teary eyed as he looks between yourself and Bilbo, seemingly berating you. He pauses for a moment, the rest of the company sharing glances in disbelief.

Emotion suddenly takes over Thorin's face. "I have never been so wrong, in all my life." He steps forward, embracing Bilbo, patting him on the back. You could almost laugh at the look of shock on Bilbo's face as he tentatively returns his hug. Thorin pulls back, meeting Bilbos eyes with an apologetic look. "I am sorry I doubted you."

Thorin's eyes turn to you, his face softening as he looks at your tear-stained face. He takes the few steps to close the distance between you. The company becomes rather quiet as he silently approaches, his eyes never leaving your face. He stops in front of you, pausing, and you sniffle slightly, looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Your heart stops as his rough hand rises to your face, gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he wipes away a fresh tear.

"Are those tears, Amrâlimê?" Thorin murmurs, making your heart skip a beat. He brings his other hand to your face, wiping away the rest of your tears, even as your eyes well up more. "No more of those." He says quietly, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against yours gently, before pulling back to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He murmurs, his eyes scanning your form. His hand still cupping your jaw gently. You shake your head, your eyes locked on his. Kili speaks up at your lie, knowing you are indeed hurt.

"She hurt her right shoulder." Kili says, before falling silent with an apologetic look. You glare at him, sighing in defeat as Thorin calls over Oin to take a look at your shoulder.

"What about you? You definitely need to be checked out, Thorin." You say sternly as thorin guides you to sit on a rock a few feet away. A small smile graces his face.

"I appreciate your concern. But you come first." He says softly, making you blush profusely. He gives a nod to Oin before stepping away to speak with Gandalf. Fili and Kili make their way over to you, giving each other a knowing look. You narrow your eyes at them before tugging on Kili's sleeve, making him kneel down to your level on the hard ground as Oin examines your shoulder.

"Kili, what does... Amrâlimê mean?" You ask inquisitively, as you know minimal Khuzdul. The brothers share another look, smiling at each other.

"You will find out in time." Kili says cryptically, standing up with a grin after giving you a pat on the back. You give him an exasperated look, cursing as Oin adjusts your shoulder. The brothers turn away with smirks plastering their faces, leaving you to ponder what Thorin could possibly have said.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Between the Sky & the Horizon

Status: Complete.

Pairings: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Set in a small Texas town during the 1940s, Joel Miller, a grieving widower, and father, is thrust into a marriage of convenience with the Reverend's pregnant daughter, Dorothy.

Word Count: 16.5k words

A/N: My ADHD brain went into overdrive and I wrote this in one sitting. No edits, not beta'd. Warnings: Main OC has an assigned gender and name. Timeline inaccuracies, this was set in the 1940s but I may have included inaccuracies in technology etc., marriage of convenience, angst and fluff, emotional hurt/comfort a bit of drama, SMUT so yes, a little explicit sexual content, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, graphic depictions of childbirth.

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

The air was thick with the scent of freshly turned earth as Joel Miller stepped off his tractor, wiping the sweat from his brow. His fields stretched endlessly in all directions, a patchwork of gold and green under the late afternoon sun. It was the kind of quiet that had grown comfortable to him, the kind that came with long days and longer nights alone. He’d gotten used to it, even preferred it, in the years since Sarah had passed. Noise felt like an intrusion now.

He crouched down to check the soil near the newly planted rows, letting his fingers dig into the cool, damp earth. The rhythmic clucking of the chickens behind him and the distant barking of his old dog, Scout, were the only things breaking the silence. It was peaceful, or as close to it as Joel allowed himself to feel these days.

That was until the sound of a truck pulling up the long, gravel driveway caught his attention. Joel glanced over his shoulder, frowning as a black Ford truck came into view. Not many people came out here uninvited. He stood, dusting off his hands on his worn jeans, and waited as the truck rolled to a stop in front of his house.

The door creaked open, and out stepped Reverend William Hargrove. Joel’s frown deepened. He hadn’t seen the reverend since Sarah’s funeral. The man had changed since then—his once well-groomed hair had gone gray, and there were deeper lines etched into his face. But his eyes still held that same fire, a flame that had burned even hotter since he’d found God and sworn off the drink. Hargrove shut the door and walked towards him, his steps heavy with purpose.

“Joel,” the reverend greeted, tipping his hat. His voice was rough, but there was an undercurrent of something that made Joel’s gut twist.

“Reverend,” Joel replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Hargrove nodded, looking around the farm before turning his gaze back to Joel. “Got a proposition for you. Something… out of the ordinary.”

Joel crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the tractor. “Go on.”

The reverend hesitated, then sighed deeply. “It’s about my daughter, Dorothy.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t seen Dot in years, not since she’d left town to chase a life beyond this small, dusty place. “What about her?”

“She’s come back home,” Hargrove said, his voice dropping. “And she’s pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like a curse. Joel didn’t say anything, just stared at the man in front of him, waiting for the rest of it.

“The father… he’s gone,” Hargrove continued, clearing his throat. “Naval officer. She won’t say much about him, but it doesn’t matter. She’s alone, Joel. And this town… well, you know how folks talk.”

Joel did know. This place thrived on whispers and judgment. A woman like Dot, unmarried and pregnant, would be torn apart by the gossip. But that wasn’t his problem.

“What’s this got to do with me?” Joel asked, though he already had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

Hargrove shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting Joel’s eyes again. “I need a man to marry her. To give her and that baby a name, protection. And you need someone to take care of your home while you work this land.”

Joel pushed off the tractor, pacing a few steps away. He didn’t need this. Didn’t need someone coming into his life, stirring things up. But the reverend’s words echoed in his mind—protection. He knew what it was like to be alone, to feel like the world had turned its back on you. He’d been living that reality every day since Sarah died.

“She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?” Joel asked, turning back to face Hargrove.

The reverend shook his head. “No. But she’s desperate, Joel. I know it’s a lot to ask, but she needs help. And maybe… maybe you do too.”

Joel clenched his jaw. It wasn’t that simple, nothing ever was. But there was a part of him, buried deep under the weight of grief and loneliness, that considered it. He could offer her a place to stay, a way to survive this town’s judgment. Maybe, in return, she could offer him something too—someone to come home to, even if it was just a formality.

“How soon are you talking?” Joel asked, his voice low.

“Soon,” Hargrove replied. “Before anyone can start asking too many questions.”

Joel nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what possessed him to agree, but before he could stop himself, he said, “Alright. I’ll do it.”

The reverend let out a breath of relief, stepping forward to shake Joel’s hand. “Thank you, Joel. You’ve done a good thing today. We’ll make the arrangements quickly.”

Joel nodded again, feeling the weight of his decision settle over him like a heavy coat. As he watched the reverend get back into his truck and drive away, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

-

Dot stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, staring out the window at the garden where her mother once grew flowers. The familiar scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, a remnant of her father’s attempt to make things feel normal. But nothing about this moment was normal. She absently traced a finger along the edge of the counter, lost in thought.

When she heard the front door creak open, she turned, her heart skipping a beat. Her father had said Joel Miller was coming by, but she hadn’t expected him so soon. And she hadn’t expected the nerves that twisted in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again after all these years.

The heavy footsteps that followed were unmistakable. Joel had always had a presence—quiet, but solid, like the earth beneath her feet. When he walked into the kitchen, she almost forgot to breathe.

He was more handsome than she remembered. The years had etched deeper lines into his face, and his hair had more silver in it now, but there was something about him that made her pulse quicken. Maybe it was the way he filled the space with that same quiet strength, or the way his eyes—still that deep brown she remembered—looked at her with a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t quite name.

“Dot,” Joel said, his voice low and rough.

“Joel,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She forced herself to smile, though it felt strained. “It’s been a long time.”

He nodded, stepping further into the room. “It has.”

Her father, Reverend Hargrove, appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression unreadable. Dot’s gaze flicked between the two men, unease settling in her chest.

“What’s this all about, Dad?” Dot asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Hargrove cleared his throat, glancing at Joel before speaking. “I’ve spoken with Joel about… your situation. He’s agreed to marry you.”

Dot blinked, the words hitting her like a punch to the gut. “He… what?”

“I thought it’d be best for everyone,” Hargrove continued, his tone cautious. “You’d have protection, and Joel… well, he could use someone to take care of the home while he’s out working.”

Dot’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, anger surged through her. “You can’t just—” She stopped herself, forcing the words back down. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Turning to Joel, she asked quietly, “Did he force you into this?”

Joel’s gaze met hers, steady and calm. “No, Dot. He didn’t force me.”

She shook her head, her voice softening. “You don’t have to do this, Joel. You don’t owe him—or anyone—a favor. This… this isn’t your problem.”

For a long moment, there was silence. Then, Hargrove cleared his throat again, sensing the tension, and murmured, “I’ll leave you two to talk,” before slipping out of the room, leaving them alone.

Dot stared after him for a moment before turning back to Joel. “You don’t have to do this,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can handle the gossip. It’s nobody’s business if I’m pregnant.”

Joel studied her, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak right away, and for a moment, Dot wondered if he would just walk out and leave her standing there with her unanswered questions. But then, he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers.

“It might not be anyone’s business,” Joel said quietly, “but that won’t stop them from talking. You know how this town is, Dot. They’ll tear you apart, whether it’s their business or not.”

Dot swallowed hard, knowing he was right. The town had always thrived on gossip, and a pregnant, unmarried woman was the kind of scandal they’d feast on for months.

Joel continued, his voice steady and calm, “I’m not doin’ this because I owe anyone. I’m doin’ it because… I know what it’s like to lose everything. And I know you don’t deserve to go through this alone. We can make it work—on our terms.”

Dot searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. She knew Joel wasn’t the kind of man to say something he didn’t mean. He was offering her a way out, a chance to protect herself and her baby from the town’s judgment. And in a strange way, she realized he was offering himself a chance too—a chance to have someone by his side again, even if it was just for convenience.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside her. “What if it doesn’t work?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something—maybe understanding, maybe hope—in his eyes. “Then we’ll figure it out. But at least we’ll be in it together.”

Dot held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, Joel. Let’s do this.”

Joel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and gave her a small nod in return. It wasn’t a grand declaration of love or anything close to it. But it was an agreement—one born out of necessity, maybe even mutual respect.

And in this town, that was enough.

- 

The sun was setting when they stood in the small living room of her father’s house, the last rays of daylight filtering through the lace curtains. Reverend Hargrove stood before them with his Bible in hand, his expression somber but steady. Tommy Miller and his wife, Maria, stood off to the side, witnesses to the union.

Hargrove cleared his throat and began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a sacred bond, one that requires trust, faith, and love.”

He turned to Dot first. “Dorothy Hargrove, do you take this man, Joel Miller, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

Dot swallowed hard, her pulse racing, but she nodded. “I do.”

Hargrove then turned to Joel. “Joel Miller, do you take this woman, Dorothy Hargrove, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

Joel’s voice was calm as he responded, “I do.”

Hargrove nodded, and after a pause, he opened his Bible to a passage and began to read: “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.”*

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Dot kept her eyes on Joel, feeling the weight of what they had just promised, even if love wasn’t the reason they stood here today.

“And now,” Hargrove said, closing the Bible, “by the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I pronounce you man and wife.”

Dot and Joel exchanged a brief, awkward glance. There was no call to kiss the bride, no fanfare. Instead, they simply nodded at each other, silently acknowledging the moment.

Tommy stepped forward with a grin, breaking the tension. “Well, looks like it’s official now,” he said, his voice warm. Maria joined him, smiling gently at Dot and Joel.

“We’re happy for you both,” Maria added, sincerity clear in her eyes. “Congratulations.”

The reverend handed them the marriage contract, and Dot signed her name with a steady hand. Joel followed suit, his signature finalizing their union. Tommy and Maria added their signatures as witnesses, making it all official.

As Dot looked up at Joel again, her heart still pounding, she realized that they had crossed a line they couldn’t step back from now. But maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make this work.

Together.

-

The sky was painted in shades of twilight as Joel and Dot loaded the last of her belongings into the bed of Joel’s old truck. A single suitcase held all of her clothes, while a couple of boxes were filled with books, paper, and a well-worn typewriter that she had carried from place to place over the years.

Joel secured the boxes with a practiced hand, tying down the items to ensure nothing would shift on the hour-long drive to his farm.

Maria handed Dot a carefully wrapped cake, a warm smile on her face. "Here, take this with you. And there’s a casserole, too—figured you might not want to cook your first night there."

"Thank you, Maria," Dot said softly, accepting the food.

Tommy stepped forward, his grin infectious. "You two take care now, y’hear? And don’t be strangers."

Dot managed a small smile. "We’ll try not to."

Her father, Reverend Hargrove, approached, placing a gentle hand on Dot’s shoulder before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “You’ve done the right thing, Dorothy. Remember that.”

She nodded, fighting back the wave of emotions that threatened to surface. “I will, Dad.”

Joel stepped forward, offering his hand to the reverend. “Thank you, Reverend Hargrove. I’ll take care of her.”

Hargrove shook Joel’s hand firmly, his eyes carrying a mixture of gratitude and something unspoken. “I know you will, Joel.”

With everything packed, Joel opened the passenger door for Dot. She hesitated for just a moment before climbing in, and settling into the worn seat. Joel circled around to the driver’s side, sliding in behind the wheel.

As they drove out of town, the houses grew sparse, replaced by open fields that stretched endlessly into the horizon. The silence in the truck was thick, but Dot finally broke it, her voice soft.

"You’ve got quite the setup at the farm, haven’t you? My dad says you’ve got a whole team of workers."

Joel nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yeah, I’ve got a few hands helping out. We grow a bit of everything—corn, wheat, some vegetables. There’s always work to be done."

Dot glanced out the window, watching the landscape blur past. "Sounds like you don’t really need me around, then, if you’ve got that many people."

Joel shook his head slightly. "They tend the fields, keep the crops goin’. But the house… it’s just me out there. Haven’t really kept up with it the way I should’ve. That’s where I could use some help."

Dot chuckled softly, more to herself than to him. "So I’m more of a housekeeper than a wife, huh?"

Joel glanced at her, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn’t put it that way. But it’s somethin’ I figured we could work out together."

The truck rumbled down the dirt road, the only sound between them the steady hum of the engine and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. Joel glanced over at Dot occasionally, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t come out awkward or forced. It was easier when they were working, but conversation was another matter.

After a few minutes of silence, Joel cleared his throat. “You ever think about comin’ back here before all this?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

Dot shook her head slightly. “Not really. I mean, I’ve visited a few times over the years, but I never thought I’d be back for good. Too many memories, I guess.”

Joel nodded, understanding more than he let on. “It’s not the easiest place to come back to. But sometimes… sometimes it’s the only place that makes sense.”

Dot turned her gaze out the window, watching the fields pass by. “Yeah, I suppose. Guess I thought I’d be somewhere else by now, doing something different.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Joel asked, genuinely curious.

Dot hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know… something more than this. I wanted to see the world, write stories, maybe even publish a book someday. But life has a funny way of getting in the way of dreams, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “Writing, huh? Never knew that about you.”

Dot gave a small, wistful smile. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Stories, poems… anything that came to mind. But it’s hard to find the time or the inspiration to actually finish anything. I guess I just kept waiting for the right moment, but it never really came.”

Joel considered her words, understanding that feeling all too well. “Farm life might not give you much in the way of excitement, but it’ll give you time. Quiet, too. Maybe that’s what you need.”

Dot looked over at him, surprised by the insight. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll have to see how it goes.”

Joel nodded, letting a comfortable silence fall between them. After a moment, he spoke again, changing the subject slightly. “Farm’s big, but it’s not as busy as it used to be. We got the crops to tend, and the workers handle most of that. It’s the house that’s a different story. Never been much good at keepin’ it in order.”

Dot chuckled softly, the tension easing just a bit. “So, I am a housekeeper after all, then?” She joked.

“No--Jesus, that's not what I meant." Joel chuckled, shaking his head. "Just think of it as… a partnership. You help with what I can’t manage alone, and I’ll do the same.”

Dot nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes sense. And who knows, maybe I’ll find some of that inspiration out there after all.”

As the truck bumped along the dirt road leading to the farmhouse, the building came into view—a large, two-story structure with a wraparound porch and a few outbuildings scattered around. The place had seen better days, but it was sturdy, built to last.

Joel parked the truck near the porch and got out, moving to help Dot with her belongings. They carried everything inside, placing the boxes and suitcase in the foyer.

"This is it," Joel said, almost to himself. "Let me show you around."

The inside of the house was simple, with wooden floors and white walls. It had a lived-in feel, though it was clear Joel wasn’t much for decorating. He led Dot through the rooms on the first floor—a cozy living room with a fireplace, a dining room that looked rarely used, and a spacious kitchen that was surprisingly well-stocked.

"There’s a room down here," Joel said, opening a door to reveal a small bedroom with its own bathroom. "Figured it might come in handy if you ever have any guests in or too old to get up and down the stairs."

They both laughed a little at that. 

Upstairs, Joel showed her the four bedrooms. "This one’s yours," he said, stopping at a large room at the end of the hall. It had its own bathroom and a view of the fields stretching out behind the house.

Dot set her suitcase down near the bed, glancing around the room. "It’s lovely, Joel. Thank you."

He nodded, somewhat awkwardly, before motioning to the room across the hall. "I’m just over there, if you need anything. Right here is another guest room." He said, pointing to another door down the hall. 

Dot noticed one door at the end of the hallway that remained closed. Joel’s eyes flicked toward it for a brief second before looking away. She didn’t need to ask; she understood.

"That’s Sarah’s room," he said quietly, almost as if the words slipped out before he could stop them. "Built this house hopin’ to fill it with kids…"

He trailed off, clearing his throat and turning away. Dot, sensing his discomfort, smiled gently and placed a hand on his arm. "It’s a beautiful home, Joel. You did a wonderful job. How about we see what Maria packed for dinner?"

Joel looked at her, grateful for the change of subject. "Yeah… yeah, that sounds good."

Back downstairs, they unpacked the casserole and cake, setting the table in the kitchen. They ate in relative silence, the weight of the day hanging over them. When they did talk, it was mostly about other people—Tommy and Maria, Dot’s father, the workers on Joel’s farm. Neither seemed ready to delve deeper into their own stories just yet.

After dinner, they worked together to clean up, each movement deliberate and careful, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between them. Dot washed the dishes, and Joel dried them, the clinking of plates and cutlery the only sound in the kitchen.

When the last dish was put away, they both paused, looking at each other with a mixture of uncertainty and something close to understanding.

"Well," Joel said, breaking the silence. "Guess we should call it a night."

Dot nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Good night, Joel."

"Good night, Dot."

They lingered for a moment longer before turning to head upstairs, each retreating into their separate rooms. As Dot closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath, feeling the enormity of the day finally settling in.

She was in a new place, with a new life ahead of her—one that she hadn’t planned for, but one she was determined to make the best of.

And somewhere across the hall, Joel was likely thinking the same thing.

–

The sun rose early on the farm, the first light of dawn spilling over the horizon and casting long shadows across the fields. Joel Miller had always been an early riser, finding solace in the quiet hours of the morning before the day’s work began. But lately, those peaceful moments were tinged with a restlessness he couldn’t quite shake.

He’d lie awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, his mind wandering through a landscape of memories he’d long tried to bury. Memories of Sarah, her green eyes so full of life, and of her mother, who had passed too soon, leaving him to raise their daughter alone. The pain of those losses had never really left him; it had just settled into a dull ache that flared up in the quiet moments.

And now, there was Dot.

Dot, with her gentle way of moving through his house, her soft humming as she went about her chores, her growing belly that served as a constant reminder of the new life she carried. It was hard to ignore the way she had changed things. The house that had once been silent and still now held a new energy, one that Joel hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

He found himself watching her more often than he liked to admit, noticing the little things she did—how she’d pause in the middle of a task to catch her breath, or the way she’d carefully arrange flowers in a vase, as if trying to bring a bit of beauty into a space that had known too much sorrow. Joel wasn’t sure what to make of these feelings, the way his chest tightened whenever he saw her, or the way he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave the house without checking on her first.

The days were long, filled with the endless tasks that came with running a farm, but it was the evenings he looked forward to most. He’d come in from the fields, the sun dipping low in the sky, and find Dot in the kitchen, a meal waiting on the table. They didn’t talk much at first, the silence between them thick with unspoken words, but over time, the quiet had become something comfortable, almost companionable.

Joel couldn’t deny that she had a way of making the house feel like a home again. He wasn’t sure how it had happened—how they’d gone from being two strangers thrown together by circumstance to something more. But as the days turned into weeks, he began to realize that he looked forward to those small moments of connection, those fleeting touches, and shared glances that hinted at something deeper.

-

It had been a few weeks since Joel and Dot had settled into their new routine on the farm, but something felt different this morning. As they prepared to head into town for Dot’s check-up, Joel noticed the way she seemed more withdrawn than usual. She moved through the house with an absentminded air, her hand frequently resting on her growing bump, gently caressing it as if to soothe the child within. Joel couldn’t help but think it was just the pregnancy making her moody and uncomfortable, the summer heat weighing on her like it did on everyone else.

“Ready, darlin’?” Joel asked as he opened the truck door for her, his tone gentle. Dot nodded, but there was a distant look in her eyes that made him pause. She climbed into the truck, her movements slow and careful, and Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more on her mind.

They drove in silence for a while, the only sound the rumble of the engine and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. Joel glanced over at Dot from time to time, noticing the way she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her hand never leaving her belly. He figured she was just tired, the weight of the baby and the strain of the heat getting to her. But as they got closer to town, the tension in the air seemed to thicken, and Joel knew something was off.

When they arrived at the doctor’s office, a hush fell over the waiting area as they stepped inside. Joel moved to Dot’s side, taking her small hand in his, their fingers interlocking as they walked to their seats. Joel noticed the curious glances from the other patients, the way conversations dropped to a murmur as they sat down. Dot’s grip on his hand tightened slightly, her fingers trembling against his skin. Joel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, offering silent support.

The doctor called them in after a few minutes, and they followed him into the small examination room. The check-up was routine, the doctor’s hands gentle as he examined Dot’s belly and listened to the baby’s heartbeat. “You’re about five months along now,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “Everything looks good. You and the baby are both healthy.”

Dot nodded, a small smile of relief crossing her face, but Joel could tell she was still troubled. As the doctor finished up, Joel opened the door for her, and they stepped back into the waiting area. Dot barely gave Joel a chance to catch up before she hurried toward the exit, practically dragging him behind her. Her hand cradled her bump protectively, her steps hurried and anxious.

“Dot, what’s wrong?” Joel asked as they stepped outside, the door closing behind them with a soft thud.

Dot didn’t answer at first, her eyes darting around as if she were searching for an escape. Finally, she stopped, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she turned to face him. “It’s the way they look at us,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “The way they’re already gossiping, speculating about us… about this baby. They’re judging, Joel. They’re thinking… all sorts of things.”

Joel’s expression softened as he stepped closer, his hand finding her shoulder in a comforting grip. “Darlin’, this town’s been talkin’ since the day it was built. Let ‘em talk. Ain’t nobody’s business but ours.”

Dot’s hand instinctively moved to her belly, caressing it in slow, soothing circles. “But it’s not just that… It’s the way they look at us, like they know everything about us. I hate it.”

Joel gently cupped her cheek, tilting her face up so she had to look at him. “They don’t know anything, darlin’. All they got is gossip, and that doesn’t change a thing between us. This baby is ours, and we’re gonna raise it together, no matter what they think.”

Dot searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was the quiet determination that had drawn her to him in the first place. She nodded slowly, her fears beginning to ease in the face of his steady reassurance.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Okay, Joel. I’ll try.”

He gave her a small, comforting smile, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek. “That’s my girl.”

They stood there for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling between them, before Joel glanced at the truck, then back at Dot. “You ever learn how to drive?”

Dot blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “Not really,” she admitted. “My dad tried to teach me, but I never got the hang of it.”

Joel nodded, his smile widening just a bit. “Well, I reckon it’s time you learned. Come on, let’s get in the truck.”

Joel led Dot back to the truck, the tension from their earlier conversation slowly dissipating as they moved into the next task at hand. He opened the driver’s side door and gestured for her to get in, his smile widening as she hesitated.

“Come on, darlin’. You can’t learn if you don’t get behind the wheel,” Joel encouraged, his tone light, trying to ease her nerves.

Dot glanced at the truck, then back at Joel, a mixture of apprehension and determination in her eyes. “Alright,” she said, more to herself than to him, and she climbed into the driver’s seat, her hand instinctively resting on her bump as she adjusted herself in the seat.

Joel circled around to the passenger side and got in, closing the door with a reassuring thud. He looked over at Dot, who was gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Relax, Dot. You’re not gonna break it,” he said, his voice gentle as he reached over to adjust her hands on the wheel. “Just take it easy, and listen to what I say.”

Dot nodded, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Okay. I can do this.”

Joel pointed to the key in the ignition. “Go ahead and start her up.”

The engine roared to life, and Dot jumped slightly at the sound. Joel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re doin’ fine. Now, put your foot on the brake, and shift into drive.”

Dot followed his instructions, her movements cautious but deliberate. The truck rolled forward, and she felt a small surge of confidence as she navigated the empty stretch of road. Joel kept his eyes on the road ahead, but every now and then, he’d glance at her, noting the determined set of her jaw, the way she bit her lip in concentration.

“Now, ease off the brake and give it a little gas,” Joel instructed. “Not too much, just enough to get us moving.”

The truck picked up speed, and Dot’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “It feels… different,” she admitted her voice a mix of nerves and excitement. “I’ve never driven something this big before.”

Joel smiled, his voice filled with quiet pride. “You’re doin’ good, Dot. Just keep it steady.”

They drove for a while in companionable silence, the countryside rolling by in a blur of green and gold. Joel guided her through the basics, his instructions clear and patient. As they drove, Dot’s tension began to ease, and she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the drive.

“You’re a natural,” Joel said, breaking the silence. “Once you get the hang of it, you’ll be able to drive anywhere.”

Dot glanced over at him, a shy smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, Joel. I never thought I’d be learning to drive out here… like this.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Figured it was about time. Besides, it’s a useful skill to have, especially out here. You never know when you’ll need to get somewhere in a hurry.”

Dot nodded, understanding the practicality of his words. But there was something more to this moment, something that felt like progress. She was doing something she never thought she’d be able to do, and Joel was right there beside her, guiding her, encouraging her.

As they neared the farm, Joel directed her to a quieter path that led around the back of the property. The road was narrower here, flanked by trees that cast dappled shadows across the ground. It felt like a different world, a peaceful escape from the worries that had weighed on her earlier.

“Let’s take it slow here,” Joel advised, his tone easy. “This part’s a bit trickier, but you’ve got it.”

Dot navigated the winding path with careful precision, her confidence growing with each turn. The truck bumped along the dirt road, and she couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of accomplishment that welled up inside her.

When they finally pulled back up to the farmhouse, Dot turned off the engine and sat back in the seat, letting out a breath of relief. Joel watched her, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You did good, darlin’,” he said, his voice full of pride. “You’re a quick learner.”

Dot’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and bashfulness. “Thanks, it was a little scary though...”

Joel nodded, the moment of connection between them settling into something comfortable, something real. “Anytime, darlin’.” He whispered and leaned in hesitantly until there was only a breadth of distance between them. Joel contemplated giving her a peck on the lips, but instead, he brushed his lips on her forehead. 

“You did well.” 

They lingered in the truck for a moment longer, the weight of their earlier worries forgotten in the wake of this small victory. They shared a brief laughter of relief… It was a simple thing, learning to drive, but it felt like a step forward, a sign that they were finding their way through this new life together.

Finally, Joel opened the door and stepped out, offering Dot a hand as she carefully climbed down from the truck. “Let’s get inside. I reckon we’ve earned ourselves a break.”

Dot smiled, taking his hand as they walked toward the house, the warmth of the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the yard. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—a moment of progress, a sign that they were building something that just might last.

-

After their driving lesson, Dot and Joel fell into a routine that began to feel almost natural. The farm was vast, and the work was endless, but they found comfort in the rhythm of their days. Mornings were quiet, the only sounds the soft clucking of chickens and the distant lowing of cattle as the sun rose over the horizon. Joel was always up first, slipping out of bed before dawn to tend to the animals and check the fields. He’d return to the house as the first light of day filtered through the kitchen windows, finding Dot already awake, her hands busy with some small task.

Dot had taken to waking early as well, her body adjusting to the demands of farm life. She’d start the day by tidying up the kitchen, her hands moving in gentle, deliberate motions as she wiped down the counters and set the table for breakfast. Her belly was growing larger with each passing week, and she found herself moving more slowly, her hand often resting on her bump as she worked.

One morning, as Joel entered the kitchen, he found Dot standing at the stove, carefully stirring a pot of oatmeal. The smell of cinnamon filled the air, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, so focused on the task at hand.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Joel greeted her, his voice soft as he crossed the room to stand beside her.

Dot looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Morning, Joel. Breakfast is almost ready.”

He nodded, reaching out to take the spoon from her hand. “Let me finish that up. You should sit down and rest.”

Dot hesitated, her hand instinctively moving to her belly as she glanced at the pot. “I’m fine, Joel. I can manage.”

Joel shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “I know you can, but you don’t have to do it all yourself. Go on, sit down. I’ll bring it over.”

Dot finally relented, taking a seat at the table and watching as Joel finished preparing breakfast. It was a simple meal, but it felt like a shared effort, something they had both contributed to. As Joel brought the bowls to the table and set one in front of her, Dot couldn’t help but feel a warmth in her chest, a sense of belonging that she hadn’t expected.

They ate in comfortable silence, the early morning light casting a golden glow across the kitchen. Dot found herself glancing at Joel now and then, noticing the way he moved with an ease that came from years of hard work. He was a man of few words, but she had come to appreciate the way he showed his care through actions rather than speech.

After breakfast, Joel rose from the table and grabbed his hat from the hook by the door. “I’ll be out in the fields if you need me,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Dot nodded, her hand resting on her bump as she watched him go. “I might come out later, see if there’s anything I can help with.”

Joel paused, his hand on the door handle as he turned back to her. “You’re always welcome, Dot. Just don’t overdo it, alright?”

A small smile crossed her face, and she nodded again. “I won’t.”

As Joel left the house, Dot finished tidying up the kitchen, her thoughts lingering on the man who had just walked out the door. There was something comforting about the routine they had settled into, something that made her feel less alone in the world. It wasn’t what she had expected when she had agreed to this arrangement, but it was beginning to feel like something she could build on.

Later that morning, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, Dot decided to join Joel in the fields. The air was warm, and the sky was a clear, endless blue as she made her way out to where he was working. Joel was by the fence, mending a section that had come loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he worked.

Dot approached slowly, her hand resting on her belly as she took in the sight of him. He looked up as she neared, his expression softening as he saw her.

“Didn’t expect you out here so soon,” Joel said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Dot smiled, her hand still resting on her bump. “Thought I’d see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Joel straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “There’s always somethin’ to do, but I don’t want you pushin’ yourself too hard.”

“I’m not made of glass, Joel,” Dot replied, a touch of humor in her voice. “Besides, I need to keep busy. Sitting around all day isn’t good for me.”

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at her. “Alright, darlin’. How about you hand me those nails over there?”

Dot nodded and moved to retrieve the small box of nails from where they sat on a nearby post. As she handed them to him, their fingers brushed briefly, and she felt a small jolt of electricity at the contact. It was a fleeting moment, but it left her feeling oddly warm inside.

They worked together in companionable silence, with Joel giving her small tasks that wouldn’t tire her out. As they fell into a rhythm, Dot found herself enjoying the work, the sense of purpose it gave her. She asked questions about the farm, about the crops and the animals, and Joel answered them with a patience that surprised her.

“You’ve been doing this for a long time,” Dot remarked as she watched Joel hammer a nail into place. “I can tell by the way you move, like you’re part of the land.”

Joel paused, glancing over at her with a thoughtful expression. “Guess you could say that. This farm’s been in my family for generations. It’s in my blood, I suppose.”

Dot nodded, her hand absently caressing her belly as she considered his words. “Must be nice, having that kind of connection to something.”

“It is,” Joel agreed, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. “But it’s hard work too. Takes a lot to keep it goin’. Can’t do it alone.”

There was a weight to his words that Dot didn’t miss, and she looked at him with a newfound understanding. “You’re not alone, Joel,” she said softly. “I’m here now. I want to help.”

Joel looked at her, his brown eyes searching her face as if trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. After a moment, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I appreciate that, Dot.”

They continued working, the conversation flowing easily between them. It was as if the barriers that had once stood between them were slowly crumbling, replaced by a growing sense of trust and partnership. Joel found himself enjoying these moments with her, the quiet camaraderie that had begun to take root.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields, Joel suggested they head back to the house. Dot agreed, her body feeling the fatigue that came with a day spent in the sun. They walked back together, their pace slow and unhurried, with Dot’s hand resting on her bump as they talked about the day’s work.

When they reached the porch, Joel held the door open for her, and they stepped inside. The house was cool and dim, a welcome respite from the heat outside. Dot made her way to the kitchen, intending to start dinner, but Joel stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“Why don’t you sit down for a bit, darlin’? I’ll take care of dinner tonight.”

Dot looked up at him, surprised. “Are you sure? I don’t mind cooking.”

Joel nodded, his expression firm. “I’m sure. You’ve done enough today. Let me handle this.”

Dot hesitated for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “Alright, but I’ll be your assistant if you need one.”

Joel chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dot settled into a chair at the table, watching as Joel moved around the kitchen with a practiced ease. It was clear that he knew his way around a stove, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for him. He was a man who took care of what needed to be done, no matter how big or small the task.

As Joel worked, he glanced over at Dot now and then, noting the way she seemed more relaxed, more at ease. He found himself wanting to make her feel comfortable, to take some of the burden off her shoulders. It was a new feeling for him, this desire to care for someone else, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Joel,” Dot said after a few minutes of quiet, her voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you ever think about… what it’ll be like when the baby’s here?”

Joel paused in his work, his back to her as he considered her question. “I think about it, yeah,” he admitted, his voice steady. “A lot, actually.”

Dot looked down at her hands, which were resting on her belly, gently caressing the growing bump. “It’s hard to imagine sometimes. Everything’s going to change.”

Joel turned to face her, leaning against the counter as he met her gaze. “It will, but change isn’t always a bad thing. And darlin’, a child… our child… that’s a good change. It’s a challenge, sure. Caring for a newborn is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. There’ll be sleepless nights, lots of crying, and plenty of moments when you’ll wonder if you’re doing it all wrong.”

As he spoke, Joel crossed the room and knelt down beside her, his presence warm and comforting. He reached out and gently placed his hand on top of hers, which was resting on her bump. The touch was tender, reassuring, and Dot felt a shiver of surprise at the intimacy of the gesture. But as Joel’s hand began to caress her belly, she found herself welcoming it, loving the feeling of his large, warm hands on her skin, grounding her in the moment.

“But,” Joel continued, his voice softening as he looked up at her, “it’s also one of the most beautiful things you’ll ever experience. You’ll discover a kind of love you didn’t even know your heart was capable of. It’s a love that grows with every smile, every tiny hand that grips your finger, every moment you hold our baby close and feel them breathe.”

Dot’s eyes softened, but there was a hint of sadness that lingered in them, a shadow that Joel could see all too clearly. She looked down at their joined hands, gently caressing her belly together. “I’m scared, Joel,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared I won’t be enough. That I’ll let this baby down.”

Joel’s heart ached at her words, and he squeezed her hand gently, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “You won’t, darlin’. You’ve got a heart bigger than you know. You’re gonna be a great mother, and our baby… our baby’s lucky to have you.”

Dot looked at him, her eyes searching his for reassurance. “You really think so?”

Joel nodded, his voice steady and comforting. “I know so. And you’re not alone in this, darlin’. We’re in it together, every step of the way.”

She offered him a small, grateful smile, though the sadness in her eyes remained, a reminder of the losses she had endured, the dreams that had been left behind.

Sensing her need for something lighter, Joel cleared his throat and let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “You know,” he began, a hint of playfulness in his tone, “there are other changes about having a baby too. Like the first time you realize that diapers don’t just get dirty—they get downright explosive.”

Dot’s eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a small, unexpected laugh. “Explosive?”

“Oh yeah,” Joel replied, chuckling along with her. “You’ll be amazed at what a little baby can do. One minute, you’re holding this sweet, peaceful bundle of joy, and the next… well, let’s just say you’ll never look at mustard the same way again.”

Dot’s laughter grew, the sound light and genuine, easing some of the tension that had been building inside her. Joel grinned, pleased to see her smiling, and continued with his lighthearted tales.

“And then there’s the time when they start talking,” Joel said, still kneeling beside her, his hands resting warmly on her belly. “You think you’re ready for it, but when that first word comes out, it’ll knock the wind right out of you. And don’t get me started on when they start walking. You’ll be chasing them all over the place, and you’ll swear they’ve got rocket fuel in those little legs.”

Dot was laughing now, her earlier sadness momentarily forgotten as she listened to Joel’s stories. There was a warmth between them, something that felt like the beginnings of a new chapter, one filled with hope and possibility.

“And then, of course, there’s the first time they spit up on you right after you’ve finally gotten them to sleep,” Joel added with a mock grimace. “You’ll think it’s the worst thing in the world, but looking back, you’ll laugh about it.”

Dot shook her head, still smiling as she wiped a tear from her eye. “It sounds like it’s going to be a wild ride.”

“It will be,” Joel agreed, his voice softening as he looked at her. “But it’s worth every second. And when you hold our baby in your arms for the first time… well, that’s a feeling you’ll never forget.”

Dot’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of wistfulness as she gazed at him. “You must miss it… being a father.”

Joel’s expression grew somber for a moment, the memories of Sarah flickering behind his eyes. He cleared his throat, pushing the sadness aside as he forced a smile. “I do,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “But I’m grateful for the time I had with her. And I’m looking forward to what’s ahead.”

Dot nodded, her heart heavy with empathy for the man kneeling beside her. She could see the strength in him, the resilience that had carried him through so much loss. And in that moment, she felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in her life, for the way he had taken her in and given her a place to belong.

Joel reached out and gently squeezed her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “We’re gonna make this work, darlin’. You and me, and our baby. We’re gonna be just fine.”

Dot squeezed his hand back, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. It wasn’t just about the baby anymore—it was about the life they were starting to build together, the partnership that was slowly taking shape.

Finally, Joel cleared his throat and stood up, breaking the moment with a lighthearted grin. “Now, how about I finish this dinner before we burn the house down?”

Dot laughed, the sound a welcome release from the emotions that had been swirling inside her. “I think that’s a good idea.”

They spent the rest of the evening in a comfortable rhythm, moving around the kitchen together as they prepared and shared their meal. The conversation was light, filled with stories and laughter, and it felt like a small victory, a sign that they were finding their way through the challenges and toward something stronger.

As they cleaned up after dinner, Dot handed Joel a dish just as he reached for it, their movements synchronized in a way that spoke of growing familiarity. It was a small thing, but it felt significant—a sign that they were beginning to understand each other in ways that went beyond words.

When the dishes were done, they lingered in the kitchen for a moment, the warmth of the evening wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. Dot felt a sense of peace, a quiet contentment that she hadn’t felt in a long time. And as she looked at Joel, she realized that this, whatever it was they were building together, was worth holding on to.

“Goodnight, Joel,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” Joel replied, his smile gentle as he watched her head toward the stairs that led to their rooms. “Sleep well.”

Dot gave him one last smile before heading up the stairs, leaving Joel standing in the quiet of the kitchen, his thoughts lingering on the woman who had come into his life and changed it in ways he hadn’t expected. He knew there were challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to face them.

–

The days had grown shorter, the crispness of fall settling over the farm as October gave way to November. Dot found herself adjusting more to life on the farm, her routines becoming familiar, comforting even. But with the baby’s due date approaching, Joel had become more insistent that she take it easy.

One morning, as the sun filtered through the kitchen windows, Dot entered the living room to find Joel standing beside a large oak desk that hadn’t been there the night before. Her books were stacked neatly on a newly installed shelf, the typewriter Joel had seen her use once or twice placed prominently on the desk. He turned to her with a small, proud smile, clearly pleased with his work.

“Morning, darlin’,” Joel greeted her, a warmth in his voice that made Dot’s heart flutter. “Thought it was about time you had a proper space for your writing.”

Dot’s eyes widened as she took in the setup, her hand instinctively resting on her bump. “Joel, this is… you did all this?”

He nodded, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. “Made the desk myself. Thought you’d appreciate somethin’ sturdy. And I know you’ve been itchin’ to get back to your writing, so I figured now’s as good a time as any.”

Dot walked over to the desk, running her fingers over the smooth surface. The wood was polished to a rich sheen, the craftsmanship solid and precise. She couldn’t help but smile, touched by the effort Joel had put into creating this space for her.

“It’s beautiful, Joel,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

Joel’s smile widened, and he reached out to gently touch her arm. “You’re welcome, darlin’. I just want you to take it easy. You’ve been workin’ hard around here, and I thought maybe it’s time you did somethin’ for yourself. Read a bit, write if you feel like it.”

Dot felt a warmth spread through her chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else, something that made her heart race a little faster when Joel was near. She had noticed it more and more lately—the way her eyes would linger on him when he worked around the farm, the way her pulse quickened whenever he smiled at her. Joel was older, yes, but he was strong, his body still fit and toned from years of hard work. And despite the gruff exterior, there was a kindness in him, a gentleness that drew her in.

As she sat down at the desk, Dot looked up at Joel, her gaze lingering on the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” she said, her voice soft.

“I wanted to,” Joel replied simply, his eyes meeting hers. “You’ve brought a lot of life back into this house, Dot. Just tryin’ to return the favor.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow warmer, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Dot felt her cheeks flush, and she quickly looked down at the typewriter, her fingers brushing over the keys.

“I’ll try to get back to writing,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “It’s been a while, but I miss it.”

Joel nodded, his hand resting on the back of her chair. “No rush, darlin’. Just take your time. The desk’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

Dot smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection. “Thank you, Joel. Really.”

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back, a quiet, thoughtful look in his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

As the days passed, Dot found herself spending more time in her new office space, occasionally writing but mostly just enjoying the comfort of the room Joel had created for her. It felt like a small sanctuary, a place where she could relax and let her mind wander. But as her belly grew, so did the aches and pains that came with carrying a child. Joel noticed it too, the way she winced when she stood up too quickly or how she shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position.

One evening, after dinner, Joel found Dot in the living room, her hand pressed to the small of her back as she stretched, trying to relieve the tension that had settled there. He watched her for a moment, concern etched in his features, before stepping forward.

“Back botherin’ you again?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Dot nodded, sighing softly as she tried to ease the pain. “Yeah, it’s been aching all day. I can’t seem to get comfortable no matter what I do.”

Without a word, Joel moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her to sit down on the edge of the couch. Dot looked up at him in surprise, but he just offered her a small, reassuring smile.

“Let me see if I can help,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

Dot hesitated for a moment, then nodded, letting herself relax as Joel’s hands moved to her back. His touch was firm but careful, his fingers kneading the muscles that had tightened from carrying the weight of the baby. Dot closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the tension began to melt away under his skilled hands.

“That feel better?” Joel asked, his voice close to her ear.

Dot nodded, her eyes still closed. “Much better. Thank you, Joel.”

“Anytime, darlin’,” he replied, his voice warm.

As Joel continued to massage her back, Dot couldn’t help but notice how close they were, how his breath tickled the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She felt her heart begin to race again, a flutter of nervous excitement in her chest. When had she started to feel this way about him? And did he feel the same?

Joel’s hands moved lower, working out the knots that had formed along her spine, and Dot bit her lip to keep from letting out a contented sigh. She didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to lose the warmth of his touch. But as his hands stilled, she felt a pang of disappointment.

“All done,” Joel said softly, his hands resting gently on her lower back.

Dot opened her eyes, feeling a flush of warmth in her cheeks as she turned to look at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice catching slightly.

Joel’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, close enough to feel each other’s breath. Dot’s gaze flickered to his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel that closeness she had been craving. But before she could act on the impulse, Joel pulled back slightly, clearing his throat as he stepped away.

“Glad I could help,” he said, his voice a little rough.

Dot smiled, trying to shake off the lingering tension. “You did. I feel much better.”

Joel nodded, the warmth in his eyes still there, but tempered by something else, something cautious. “You should get some rest, darlin’. It’s been a long day.”

Dot nodded, standing up slowly, her hand resting on her bump. “I will. Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight, darlin’,” Joel replied, his voice soft as he watched her head toward the stairs.

As Dot climbed the stairs to her room, she couldn’t help but wonder if Joel had felt the same pull she had, that magnetic attraction that had been growing between them. And as she lay in bed that night, her thoughts were filled with the memory of his touch, the way his hands had felt on her back, so warm and strong. She didn’t know where this was leading, but she knew one thing for certain—she was no longer afraid of it.

-

The next few days passed in a blur of routine and quiet moments, but the tension between Joel and Dot continued to build. It was in the way their hands brushed when they passed each other a tool, the way Joel’s gaze lingered on her a little too long when he thought she wasn’t looking. And Dot, for her part, found herself stealing glances at him whenever she could, admiring the way his muscles moved under his shirt as he worked, the strength and solidity of him.

One afternoon, as the sun was beginning to set, Joel found Dot sitting on the porch, her feet propped up on the railing as she watched the colors of the sky shift from blue to pink to orange. He approached quietly, his hands in his pockets, and sat down beside her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dot said softly, not taking her eyes off the horizon.

“Sure is,” Joel agreed, though his gaze was fixed on her. “How’re you feelin’, darlin’?”

Dot turned to him, her heart fluttering at the concern in his eyes. “I’m alright. Tired, but alright.”

Joel nodded, his hand reaching out to rest on hers. “You’ve been doin’ a lot. You should take it easy.”

Dot looked down at their joined hands, her heart skipping a beat. “I know. I just… I don’t like sitting still for too long.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “I can tell. But you need to rest up, especially with our baby coming soon. You’ve been workin’ hard, and I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

Dot smiled at his concern, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I promise I’ll try to take it easy. It’s just… I like being busy. It helps keep my mind off things.”

Joel’s gaze softened, and he shifted closer to her, their shoulders almost touching. “I get that, darlin’. But you don’t have to carry everything on your own. I’m here, remember?”

Dot looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat at the closeness of his face, the sincerity in his eyes. “I know, Joel. And I’m grateful for that. More than you know.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Dot’s heart raced as she looked at him, her thoughts a jumble of emotions she wasn’t sure how to express. She knew she was attracted to him, drawn to his strength, his kindness, the way he made her feel safe and cared for. But there was more to it than that—something deeper, something that scared and excited her in equal measure.

Joel’s hand tightened slightly on hers, and she saw the same uncertainty in his eyes, the same hesitance. But then, as if some unspoken agreement passed between them, he leaned in, closing the small distance between them.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if they were both testing the waters. Dot’s heart pounded in her chest, her lips tingling with the warmth of his. She felt a rush of emotions—relief, excitement, and something that felt a lot like hope. She let herself lean into the kiss, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Joel responded by deepening the kiss, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin. There was a tenderness in his touch, a carefulness that made her feel cherished, wanted. Dot sighed softly against his lips, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she let herself get lost in the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to steady their racing hearts. Joel’s hand remained on her cheek, his thumb still caressing her skin, as if he couldn’t bear to break the contact.

“Dot…” Joel began, his voice husky, full of emotion he couldn’t quite put into words.

Dot opened her eyes, looking up at him with a mixture of affection and longing. “Joel, I…”

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over her lips, silencing her. “You don’t have to say anything, darlin’. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel. How much you mean to me.”

Dot felt a tear slip down her cheek, but it wasn’t one of sadness—it was one of relief, of joy at knowing that the feelings she had been wrestling with were shared. “I care about you too, Joel. More than I ever thought I could.”

Joel’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss her again, this time with more confidence, more certainty. The kiss was sweeter, filled with the promise of something new, something neither of them had expected but both of them wanted.

As the kiss deepened, Dot felt a warmth spread through her, pooling in her belly and radiating out to every part of her body. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted this, needed this, until now. She let herself sink into the sensation, into the safety of Joel’s arms, feeling a sense of rightness that had been missing for so long.

When they finally pulled apart again, Joel rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in soft, warm puffs against her skin. “Dot, I don’t want to rush you, but… I want you to know that I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Dot smiled, her heart full as she looked into his eyes. “I know, Joel. And I’m not going anywhere either.”

They sat there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the world outside the porch fading away. It was just them, and it felt like the beginning of something they both needed.

“Maybe we should head inside,” Joel suggested softly, his hand still cradling her cheek.

Dot nodded, her breath catching as she saw the unspoken question in his eyes. She knew what he was asking, what he was hoping for, and she found herself wanting it too, more than anything.

Joel stood up first, offering her his hand, and she took it without hesitation, letting him pull her to her feet. They walked into the house together, the warmth of the living room wrapping around them as they crossed the threshold.

Joel hesitated for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, glancing at her as if to make sure she was still with him. Dot smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

They climbed the stairs slowly, the anticipation building with each step, until they reached the landing where their bedrooms were. Joel paused outside her door, his hand still holding hers as he turned to face her.

“Dot… are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

Dot nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m sure, Joel.”

That was all he needed to hear. Joel opened the door to her room and led her inside, closing it softly behind them. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, casting a warm, intimate glow over the space. Joel turned to her, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and desire, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

He stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks. “I want this to be right for you, darlin’. I want you to feel safe, loved.”

Dot smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I do, Joel. I’ve never felt safer.”

With that, Joel leaned in and kissed her again, his lips warm and inviting. This time, the kiss was more urgent, more passionate, and Dot found herself responding with equal fervor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against her.

Joel’s hands moved down her sides, gently caressing every curve of her body, lingering over the gentle swell of her belly. Dot shivered under his touch, a mixture of anticipation and desire coursing through her. The tension that had been building between them for weeks was finally coming to a head, and she could feel the heat rising between them.

Joel leaned in, pressing soft kisses along her neck, his breath warm against her skin. As his lips moved lower, he began to undo the buttons of her dress, taking his time with each one, revealing more of her skin with every soft press of his lips. Dot’s breath hitched as he bared her shoulders, the cool air contrasting with the warmth of his touch. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to continue.

As her dress fell to the floor, Joel’s hands traced the curve of her belly, his touch reverent, as if he were worshiping the life growing inside her. He dropped to his knees, his lips following the path his hands had taken, pressing gentle kisses to the swell of her abdomen. Dot’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him, the sight of him on his knees before her, his hands and lips so tender, filling her with a deep, overwhelming emotion.

Joel looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re so beautiful, Dot,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Dot’s heart fluttered at his words, and she tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. Joel stood, quickly shedding his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers. As he stepped out of his breeches, his cock sprang free, thick and ready, and Dot felt a rush of heat flood her body at the sight of him.

Joel reached for her again, his hands sliding down her back to undo the last fastenings of her undergarments, letting them drop to the floor. He pulled her close, his hands running up and down her back, feeling the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body against his. Dot leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she felt his hardness against her belly.

He guided her gently to the bed, laying her down on the soft sheets, his eyes drinking in the sight of her laid out before him. Dot’s heart raced as she watched him, her anticipation building with every second. Joel knelt beside her, his hands running along her thighs, gently spreading her legs as he settled between them. His eyes were fixed on hers as he leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin just above her knee, kissing a slow path up her thigh.

Dot gasped as his lips moved higher, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers of pleasure through her. When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his hands gently holding her hips as he looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire.

“Joel…” Dot whispered, her voice trembling with need.

“I got you, darlin’.” 

Without another word, Joel lowered his head between her thighs, his tongue slipping between her folds, finding the sensitive bud at her center. Dot cried out, her hips jerking at the sudden surge of pleasure, but Joel held her steady, his hands firm on her hips as he continued his ministrations. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, exploring her with a skill and tenderness that left her breathless.

Dot’s hands clenched the sheets as her big belly wouldn’t let her hold on to the thick of Joel’s salt & pepper hair, her back arching as the pleasure built inside her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Joel’s mouth was relentless, his tongue working her with a steady rhythm that drove her closer and closer to the edge. And when he added his fingers, sliding them inside her with a gentle but insistent pressure, pressing on her back wall over and over again, Dot’s control shattered. She came with a cry, her body shaking with the intensity of it, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Joel didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working her through her climax, until she was left panting and spent, her body melting into the bed. When he finally lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal, Dot could only look at him in dazed wonder, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Joel… that was…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I know… so good, darlin’... you taste so good.”

He smiled at her, a satisfied, almost smug look in his eyes as he moved up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Dot moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his lips, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel all of him against her.

As Joel positioned himself between her legs, he paused, his hand resting on her belly, his eyes searching hers. “Are you okay, darlin’? Is this okay?”

Dot nodded, her hand covering his on her belly. “Yes, Joel. I need you. Please.”

With a groan of desire, Joel pushed into her, filling her slowly, letting her adjust to the size of him. Dot gasped at the sensation, the fullness, the heat of him inside her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. Joel’s grip on her hips tightened as he began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers.

Dot’s breath hitched as he filled her again and again, her body responding to his with a need she hadn’t realized she had. The weight of him, the strength in his arms as he held her close, the way his hips moved against hers—it was all too much, and yet not enough. She needed more, needed him to take her higher, to push her over the edge again.

“Joel… please,” she begged, her voice trembling with need.

Joel’s eyes darkened with desire, and he shifted, pulling her hips up slightly so he could go deeper, his movements becoming more urgent, more insistent. Dot cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders as she felt herself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.

When she came again, it was with a cry of his name, her body tightening around him, pulling him deeper as she shattered beneath him. Joel groaned, his hips bucking as he found his own release, his cock pulsing inside her as he spilled into her, his hands holding her hips in a bruising grip.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies still joined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Joel’s hand moved to her belly again, caressing the curve of it, his eyes filled with a tender, almost possessive emotion.

“Our baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She smiled up at him, her hand coming to rest over his on her belly. “I love you, Joel.”

“I love you too, darlin’,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “More than I ever thought possible.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly, his eyes still fixed on hers. “You’re everything to me, Dot. Everything.”

Dot’s heart swelled with love for the man above her, the man who had become her partner, her lover, the father of her child. No questions asked. As they lay together, their bodies still entwined, she knew that this was where she belonged, with Joel, with their baby, in this home they had built together.

They fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten for a little while. 

- 

The weeks that followed their first night together were some of the happiest Dot had ever known. The intimacy they had discovered that night became a regular part of their lives, a natural extension of the deepening bond between them. Joel was attentive, always careful with her, mindful of her growing belly and the changes her body was going through as her pregnancy progressed.

They quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, their days filled with the familiar routines of farm life, and their nights spent wrapped up in each other. The physical connection they had discovered only grew stronger, and it wasn’t long before they found themselves stealing moments together whenever they could—whether it was a slow morning in bed, a quick encounter in the barn, or a quiet evening in the living room after dinner.

One lazy Sunday morning, Dot woke to the feel of Joel’s hand resting on her belly, his thumb gently brushing over the swell of it. She smiled, still half-asleep, and snuggled closer to him, her back pressing against his chest.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

“Morning,” Dot replied, her voice soft and content.

They had started sharing a bed shortly after their first time together, the master bedroom becoming their shared sanctuary. It was a decision that had felt natural, as if it was always meant to be this way. Joel had taken to sleeping with his hand on her belly, his touch a constant reassurance that he was there, that they were in this together.

Dot turned in his arms, facing him, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Sleep well?”

Joel grinned, his hand sliding down to rest on her hip. “Always do when I’m with you.”

Their kisses deepened, a slow burn igniting between them as their bodies pressed closer together. Despite the growing weight of her pregnancy, Dot found herself craving Joel more and more, and he was always eager to oblige. He was careful, always mindful of her condition, but there was no mistaking the hunger in his touch, the desire that flared between them whenever they were close.

They made love slowly, lazily, taking their time to savor each other, the morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow over their entwined bodies. Joel was gentle, his hands and lips worshiping her, his every movement careful and deliberate. Dot arched into him, her breath hitching as he filled her, the familiar sensation sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

“Joel…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

He responded with a low groan, his hands gripping her hips as he rocked into her, his gaze never leaving hers. Dot felt the tension building inside her, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, sending her tumbling over the edge. She cried out his name, her hands clutching at his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Joel followed soon after, his own release crashing through him as he buried his face in her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. They stayed like that for a long moment, their bodies still joined, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

Finally, Joel pulled back slightly, his hand gently caressing her belly as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You okay, darlin’?”

Dot smiled up at him, her heart swelling with love for the man above her. “I’m perfect,” she whispered, her voice filled with contentment.

They spent the rest of the morning in bed, talking quietly, sharing soft kisses, and basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. It was a morning like so many others they had shared since they had decided to fully commit to each other, a morning that felt like the calm before the storm.

It was later that afternoon when the storm finally hit.

Joel was outside, repairing a fence near the barn, when he noticed the familiar truck of his father-in-law, Reverend Hargrove pulling up the long gravel driveway. Straightening up, Joel wiped the sweat from his brow and set his tools aside, watching as the reverend stepped out of the truck, holding something in his hand. There was a certain tension in the older man’s posture that immediately put Joel on edge.

“Afternoon, Reverend,” Joel greeted as he approached, his tone polite but guarded.

“Afternoon, Joel,” the reverend replied, offering a tight smile. He hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the house. “Is Dot around? I’ve got something here for her.”

Joel frowned slightly but nodded. “She’s inside. You wanna come in? Have a cup of coffee with us?”

The reverend shook his head, a look of regret passing over his face. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to take a rain check. I just wanted to drop this off. I’ll see you both this weekend for Thanksgiving.”

He handed Joel a letter, and Joel’s heart sank as he read the sender’s name on the envelope. Carson. The knot of anxiety that had been building in his chest tightened, and he felt a wave of anger begin to rise. He nodded curtly, his jaw clenched as he accepted the letter.

“Thanks for bringing this by,” Joel said, his voice strained.

The reverend gave him a concerned look, sensing the tension. “Everything alright, Joel?”

Joel forced a tight smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, everything’s fine. We’ll see you this weekend.”

The reverend nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. He gave Joel a final pat on the shoulder before turning to head back to his truck. Joel watched him go, his grip on the letter tightening as the sound of the truck’s engine faded into the distance. The moment the reverend was out of sight, Joel turned and stalked back to the house, the anger simmering just below the surface.

When he stepped into the living room, he found Dot standing by her desk, arching her back and rubbing the base of her spine with one hand under her almost due belly. She looked around when she heard him enter, her expression brightening when she saw him.

“Hey, Joel,” she said, smiling softly.

“Dot,” Joel replied, his voice tight as he held up the envelope. “This came for you.”

Dot’s smile faltered as she saw the envelope, confusion knitting her brows together. “Who’s it from?”

“Carson,” Joel said, his tone clipped, barely containing his frustration.

Dot’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the name on the envelope, her heart skipping a beat. Carson. She hadn’t thought about him in months, not since she had agreed to marry Joel and start a new life on the farm. But seeing his name now, written out in neat, familiar handwriting, brought back a flood of memories she had long since buried.

She reached out to take the envelope, her hands trembling slightly. Joel watched her closely, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and something else—something more vulnerable, more afraid.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Joel spat out, his voice rising as the emotions he had been trying to suppress began to spill over. “After all this time? After everything we’ve built together, now he decides to write?”

Dot flinched at the intensity of his tone, her heart aching as she saw the pain and anger in his eyes. “Joel, I—”

“He’s the father, Dot,” Joel interrupted, his voice laced with bitterness. “He’s the real father of this baby. Maybe this is what you’ve been waiting for, huh? A way out. Maybe now you can finally go back to the big city, to the life you really wanted.”

Dot’s eyes widened in shock, tears welling up as she realized just how deeply Joel’s fear of abandonment ran. “Joel, no, that’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” Joel cut her off, his voice growing louder, more frantic. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Your typewriter’s been gathering dust, you haven’t written a damn thing since you got here. Maybe you miss the city, maybe you miss that life. Hell, maybe you miss him.”

Dot’s hand tightened on the letter, her heart breaking as she saw the hurt and anger in Joel’s eyes, ignoring the growing pressure at the base of her belly. But she didn’t sob, didn’t let the tears fall or the pain show. Instead, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she scanned the contents of the letter. As she read the words, a bitter chuckle escaped her lips, and she tossed the letter aside, shaking her head.

“Joel,” she called quietly to him, her voice trembling with both anger and sadness. 

But Joel wasn’t listening. He was too far gone, his anger and fear clouding his judgment, making it impossible for him to hear the reassurance in her words.

“Maybe you miss him…” Joel snapped, his voice harsh as he paced the room, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment to swoop in and take you away, take everything we’ve built together.”

Dot shook her head, tears spilling over but still refusing to sob, refusing to let herself fall apart. “Joel, listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. I chose this life. Carson is in the past.”

But Joel was too deep in his own pain to hear her, his voice rising in desperation. “How can I believe that? How do I know you won’t just leave the moment things get tough? How do I know this isn’t what you’ve wanted all along?”

Dot’s heart ached at his words, the accusations cutting deeper than she had ever thought possible. “Because I chose you–I keep on choosing you every day, I–” But before she could say anything more, a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, doubling her over with a gasp.

“Dot?” Joel’s voice immediately shifted from anger to concern, his eyes widening as he saw the pain on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Dot’s eyes went wide as she felt a sudden rush of fluid between her legs, her heart pounding with realization. “Joel… my water just broke.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the gravity of the situation crashing down on them both. Then, in unison, they both cursed.

“Shit!”

Joel sprang into action, his anger forgotten as he rushed to Dot’s side, wrapping his arms around her to support her as she tried to steady herself.

“Alright, darlin’, it’s okay,” Joel said, his voice calm but urgent as he guided her toward the door but she wouldn’t move. “We’re gonna get you to the clinic. Just breathe, okay?”

Dot shook her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the pain intensified. “Joel… there’s no time. I can feel the head.”

Joel’s eyes widened in panic, but he quickly masked it, his focus shifting entirely to Dot and their baby. “Shit… okay, okay, we’ll do this here. We’ll do this right here.”

Dot nodded again, her body trembling as another contraction hit, stronger than the last. He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the sturdy oak table he had made for her, where her typewriter now sat. Joel guided her back to her oak desk, her grip on his arm tight as she struggled to breathe through the pain. 

“Here, darlin’, hold onto the table,” Joel instructed, helping her to lean against it. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Dot did as he said, gripping the edge of the table with one hand while the other clung to his arm. She could feel the pressure building, the baby moving lower with each contraction, and she knew there was no turning back now.

“How long?” He asked her.

“Two days,” She gasped out and he cursed out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked her.

“I thought it was just normal… just the discomfort… but…” Dot admitted through gritted teeth, her voice strained with the effort of speaking.

Joel’s heart ached with guilt as he realized she had been in pain all this time, trying to bear it alone. “I’m sorry, Dot,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry…” 

Dot nodded, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as she felt another contraction rip through her. She braced herself against the table, her knees buckling as the pain intensified, her body urging her to push.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” Dot cried, her voice breaking as the fear and pain overwhelmed her.

“Yes, you can,” Joel said firmly, his voice filled with determination as he positioned himself behind her, his hands gently supporting her hips. “You’re the strongest woman I know, Dot. You can do this. You’re not alone. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Dot’s breath hitched at his words, and she nodded, “Joel I think I can feel the head.” 

Joel wasted no time, getting on his knees, hiking up her skirt and pulling down her underwear. She was bulging, the head heavily sat behind her folds. She could feel the baby beginning to emerge into a crow, the intense pressure and pain making it almost impossible to think, but she focused on Joel’s voice, on his steady, reassuring presence beside her.

“Alright, darlin’, you need to push,” Joel instructed, his voice calm but urgent. “You can do this. I’ve got you.”

Dot took a deep breath, bracing herself against the table as she bore down, pushing with all her might. The pain was intense, a searing, tearing sensation that left her gasping for breath, but she kept going, kept pushing, Joel’s voice in her ear, his hands steadying her as she fought to bring their baby into the world.

“That’s it, Dot,” Joel encouraged, his voice filled with awe and pride as he watched their child begin to emerge. “You’re doing so good. Just a little more, darlin’, you’re almost there. Breathe, darlin’, breathe…”

Dot’s breathing grew more erratic, her body trembling as another powerful contraction ripped through her. She clung to the edge of the table, her knuckles white, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Hoo… hoo… haa… haa…” Dot panted, trying to focus on her breathing, trying to stay calm even as the pain intensified. “Joel… it’s too big… I can’t… I can’t do this…”

“Yes, you can, darlin’,” Joel reassured her, his voice strong and steady as he supported her, his hands firm on her hips. “You’re doing so good. Just keep breathing, keep pushing. You’ve got this.”

Dot moaned, the pain overwhelming her as she felt the baby moving lower, the pressure almost unbearable. “It hurts… it hurts so much…”

“I know, I know, darlin’,” Joel whispered, his heart aching as he watched her struggle. “But you’re almost there. Just a little more, and our baby will be here. You’re so strong, Dot. You can do this.”

Dot nodded, tears streaming down her face as she took another deep breath, her voice trembling as she whimpered, “Hoo… hoo… Jooooeeeel!”

With a deep, primal groan, Dot bore down again, pushing with all her might, the pain searing through her like fire. “It’s too big… oh God, it’s too big…”

Joel’s hands tightened on her hips, his voice filled with awe as he saw the baby’s head emerging. “You’re doing it, Dot. I can see the head. Just one more big push, darlin’. You’re almost there.”

Dot cried out, her body shaking with the effort as she pushed again, harder this time, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain was excruciating, the pressure almost too much to bear, but she kept going, kept pushing, determined to bring their child into the world.

“Haa… haa… haa…” Dot panted, her voice a mix of desperation and determination as she felt the baby’s head begin to fully crown. She gritted her teeth, her entire body trembling as she bore down once more, the intensity of the pain nearly blinding her.

Finally, with one last, agonizing push, Dot felt the baby’s head slip-free, the sudden relief mingling with the lingering pain. She gasped for breath, her body shaking with exhaustion, but she didn’t stop, didn’t let herself rest.

“You’re almost there, darlin’,” Joel encouraged, his voice filled with emotion as he supported her. “Just one more push, and the shoulders will be out. You’re so close, Dot. You’re so close.”

Dot nodded, tears streaming down her face as she gathered all her strength for one final push. She bore down with everything she had, a primal scream tearing from her throat as she felt the baby’s shoulders slip free, followed by the rest of the tiny body. The overwhelming relief and release left her trembling and gasping for breath.

Joel’s hands were there, steady and sure, catching their child as the baby entered the world. He let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding with a mix of relief and awe as he cradled the tiny, squirming body in his hands. The baby let out a loud, feisty cry, its voice filling the room, a sound that brought tears to Joel’s eyes.

“You did it, Dot,” Joel whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he looked up at her, his eyes shining with love and pride. “You did it, darlin’. Our baby… our beautiful baby.”

Dot collapsed against the table, her body trembling with exhaustion, but a soft, tired smile crossed her lips as she heard the baby’s cries. She turned to look at Joel, her heart swelling with love and relief as she saw him cradling their child, his eyes filled with tears of joy.

“Hi, baby,” Dot whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she held out her arms for the baby. “Hi there, little one. You’re finally here.”

Joel carefully wrapped the baby in the throw blanket from the couch, gently placing the tiny bundle in Dot’s arms. She looked down at their child, tears streaming down her face as she traced a finger over the baby’s soft cheek, marveling at the tiny, perfect features.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dot cooed, her voice filled with love as she held the baby close, feeling the warmth and weight of their child in her arms. “You’re so beautiful… so perfect…”

Joel’s heart swelled with love and pride as he watched Dot cradle their baby, the sight of them together filling him with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and awe. He pressed a soft kiss to Dot’s temple, his voice thick with emotion as he whispered, “I love you, Dot. I love you so much.”

Dot smiled up at him, her eyes shining with tears as she whispered back, “I love you too, Joel. So much.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, in the new life they had created together. The argument, the fear, and the pain of the past few hours melted away, leaving only love, only the overwhelming joy of holding their child in their arms.

As the baby continued to cry, Dot felt another wave of contractions rip through her, the pain sharp and sudden. She gasped, her body tensing as she realized what was happening. “Joel… the after birth… it’s coming…”

Joel’s eyes widened in realization, and he quickly moved to support her, his hands steadying her as she pushed once more, the placenta slipping free with a rush of fluid. Dot let out a shaky breath, her body trembling with exhaustion as she finally collapsed against the table, spent and drained.

“You did it, darlin’,” Joel whispered, his voice filled with awe as he gently cleaned her up, his hands tender as he worked. “You did so good… you’re amazing, Dot.”

Joel carried his wife into the guest bedroom next to the kitchen, laying down several blankets for Dot to lay out on as he cleaned her and the baby up. He took the scissors from the kitchen and, with trembling hands, cut the umbilical cord, severing the final connection between Dot and the baby. He couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes as he looked down at their child, a feeling of overwhelming love washing over him.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Joel whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he gently kissed the baby’s forehead. “You’re so loved… so, so loved…”

Dot watched him, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the man who had been by her side through everything. She reached out and touched his arm, her voice soft and filled with emotion as she said, “Joel… thank you… for everything…”

Joel turned to her, his eyes filled with tears as he knelt beside her, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “Don’t thank me, darlin’. I’m the one who’s grateful… for you… for this beautiful life we’ve created together.”

Dot smiled, tears streaming down her face as she looked down at their baby, the love she felt for both of them overwhelming her. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Joel leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers as he whispered, “I’m so lucky to have you, Dot. So damn lucky… Please, don’t ever leave me. Don’t take our son away from me. I can’t lose you… either of you…”

Dot’s heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and she shook her head, her voice filled with love and reassurance as she whispered back, “I’m not going anywhere, Joel. This is where I belong. With you… with our son… with our family…”

“But Carson…”

“Carson wrote to congratulate me. Congratulate us and our baby...”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his tears mingling with hers as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he whispered, “Thank you, Dot… thank you for giving me this… for giving me everything I never thought I could have again…”

Dot smiled through her tears, her heart overflowing with love for the man who had become her partner, her lover, the father of her child. “I love you, Joel… more than I can ever say…”

Joel kissed her again, his lips tender and filled with all the love he felt for her. “I love you too, Dot… so damn much… And I want more of this… more babies… more life with you…”

Dot let out a soft chuckle, her tears mingling with her laughter as she looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and joy. “More babies, huh?”

Joel grinned, his own tears spilling over as he nodded, his voice filled with hope and longing as he whispered, “Yeah… more babies… a whole house full of them…”

Dot laughed softly, her heart bursting with happiness as she leaned into him, her voice filled with love as she whispered, “I’d like that, Joel… I’d like that a lot…”

They stayed like that, holding each other, holding their son, the future stretching out before them, filled with love, hope, and the promise of more life to come.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Birthday Boys

It’s Fred and George’s birthday, and you wanted to give them something very special. It’s hard to give them something like that, but you are married to them for a reason. As if they would ever settle for someone boring, now would they?

Warnings: 18+, Double Penetration (A and V), teasing, breeding, overstimulation, dirty talk, birthday suits ((hehe)) lipstick kink(?) and of course Fred Lives. Because I said so ((George still missing an ear tho! Bleh-!))

“Well what’s this?” George would blink, as a paper airplane would land itself on his desk. Fred would raise a brow, as he set down the ink he had grabbed for his younger twin. It’s April First. The ever busiest day of the year, and their birthday as well. That meant they were swamped with work, and just trying to finish the day. The shop may be closed, now, but damn they were still drowning.

“Don’t just stare at it, open it up-!” Fred would bonk the younger twin, with his wand, making him fix at his hair. He would give a grumble, as he unfolded the neat little parchment. By the hand writing alone, he knew it was from you. What was written made him a bit flushed in the cheeks. Always was the more emotional of the two, so Fred was quick to look over his shoulder. Reading along.

To my special Birthday Boys. You two have been working so hard all day. Such a wonderful occasion deserves a present, doesn’t it? I better expect you to leave paper work for later, and hurry up to our bedroom. It gets rather chilly being all alone. I don’t want your present to get cold either. Not when I worked so hard to wrap it all up so nicely in purples and oranges. If you don’t want it, I’ll be more than happy to make use of it all myself. Sincerely yours~!

Never had they side alone aparated so fast in their life. Gave you quite the startle, to suddenly see them. You should have figured they wouldn’t waste time, but boy they move fast. Even after all these years together, it catches you by surprise. Though, this time they were the ones with wide eyes this time around.

There you were, in the middle of the bed, dressed to the nines. A array of orange, and purple, fabric against your skin. Stockings of lace. Done up so pretty to mimic that of a fire work, with little dots all around. The fingerless arm length gloves had to be, as to help bring focus to how bare the rest of you were. Nothing else to your skin, but your own birthday suit. Besides so heavy makeup, because you knew they loved it when it got all ruined. What really sold it was the bows all over you. Around your thighs, wrists, neck, just for the comical effect of a birthday present. Hey, it’s April Fools. Gotta get silly.

“H-“ Before you could get a single syllable out, they were on you. Like starving dogs. Clothes were flying, and your body was quick to be sandwiched between the two men. Your neck attacked in kisses, and their ever rough hands trailing your skin. Tracing all the invisible lines they had tracked on you.

“Guess you like the surprise-?” You joked, as you were leaning yourself against Fred. While George was enjoying your front. Sucking plenty of hickies on your skin, while Fred was enjoying playing with your nipples. Had you squeak, and flush, as he was enjoying the happily given toy.

“Taking that as a yes-“ You sighed, as you were just a meal for the wolves. Wolves that always had your flavor of flesh in mind. It just felt so good to be so desired. To be wanted so badly, it could hurt. Especially after such an exhausting day, they needed to get that pent up steam out.

“Been thinking about you all day long-“ George would sigh, as he stole your lips into his own. Happily allowing your lipstick to stain his own, while your hips rubbed onto the building hard on in Fred’s lap. Just a tangle of wild limbs, and you couldn’t have loved anything more.

“Come on, save some for me. Give em here-“ And you would be stolen by Fred next. Making sure he got his lips stained all the same. George didn’t complain, as he would let the lipstick residue trail over your exposured chest. Designing you, as Fred let his tongue do any talking he had left.

You enjoyed the sensual, and slow, pace. Made you fall into the mood far easier. But, you knew why they were being so gentle. Gentle starts always ended with you drooling and utterly delirious. They were going to destroy you, to your core, and that had you so hopeful.

“Just look at you.” They breathed, in unison, as you were just a doll in their hands. Your body leaning into Fred’s, with his legs spread to make sure you were comfortable. Meanwhile George was above you, on his knees, and taking in the sight. Just starving for you, while Fred was busy with the bedside table. Making sure to grab some lube, as you realized what you signed up for.

“Don’t say I never treat you.” That had them laugh, at your comment. Sweet little feathery kisses were given to your face, and neck, while the line was passed to each other. Slicking themselves up, before using the residue to make sure you were nice and comfortable. A thank you, for such a wonderful present.

“Wrapped up in such a pretty bow.” Fred sighed, as he stuck two fingers inside of you. That had you bite your lip, before the mimicking motion from George made it slip out. Fred was in your ass, and George was in your core. Able to copy each other’s movements in perfect unison. Some call it disturbing, you call it heaven.

“Damn, wet as hell. Don’t even need lube. We’re so excited to get to be our gift, weren’t you? Isn’t that sweet Fred-?” “Oh the ever sweetest George. We love it when you get excited. Gets us excited.” They echoed each other, while making sure to lather as much as they could. Knowing you would need it, and still remembering to put your needs first. Just gentle motions, as they made sure to cover as much as two fingers could. Teasing away at your sensitive spots, just to make you squirm.

“I can’t wait any more.” “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” And like that, the fingers were removed. You whined at it, which made them smirk. Now, you were feeling them pressed against you. They planned to go in, at the exact same time. It made your heart race. To imagine, being stuffed so quickly.

“How about we-“ But they broke through the tight barrier, and your mind was mush. Not so much from pain, just the over whelming sensation of being so full. To feel your insides grow so tight, as your muscles were being pulled yet pushed at the same time. Was a fluttery experience. Somehow so light, yet couldn’t be heavier.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You heard Fred whisper into your ear, while your blurry eyes could make out that George was hardly able to keep his own open. Biting into his stained lip, as to not whimper too early. To last, but damn. You knew he was fighting for his life.

Once they were both fully inside, the three of you just stayed that way. A mixture of wanting to make sure you were adjusted, and them not wanting to end the game so soon. How embarrassing that would be. Least that meant you were being pampered. With heavy breathing, and wet kisses on your skin. A means to help you relax, and it worked.

“Lucky me, I get to be the first one to pump you full. Isn’t that nice of Fred? To let me be the one to pump your little womb full?” That had your face burn. Yeah, you three were trying, but none of you exactly went into to much details on how such a thing would plan out. Given Magic was involved, with everything, isn’t a dumb guess to think these two will somehow knock you up at the same time. Just made you all the more flushed, as Fred would rub over your stomach.

“Don’t worry. When he’s done with you, we will switch. I can’t just waste it all in your ass. I love that cute thing, but I love you being full of out kids more.” Fred moaned, as he finally moved his hips. Just in time with George’s. The feeling of two at once, in different holes. Truly a fuzzy experience.

Your hands found George’s shoulders, while Fred grabbed your legs. Keeping you spread as wide as they could, as they rocked their hips into you. Such perfect calculations to make sure your mind stayed in that blissful fuzz. Was leaving you with your nails into Georges skin.

“Come on, love. You gotta moan louder for me. I’m missing an ear over here. Give me some noise-!” George cackled, as Fred took that as a que to pick up the pace. Your head was rolling itself back, and leaned on Fred’s shoulder. Giving George exactly what he wanted, after all. Louder moans, whimpers, gasps, and plenty of smacking flesh to fill in between.

“So cock drunk, and the night hardly started.” Fred teases, as he bit into your shoulder. Needing to steady himself, but the feeling was too much. George would have agreed, if it were vocal. They were getting sloppy with their movements, and you wouldn’t last long either. Especially since George was now planting sloppy kisses against your lips. Leaving you two a jumble mess of spit and moans.

Hearing their desperate breaths, and whimpers of trying to hold on, it was what brought you over the edge. By proxy, your tightening grip in your body had them gasp. Their hips stuttering, as they came inside of you. Throbbing, and having a shake in their system.

Riding it out was such a warm feeling. Felt like everything was on fire, in all the best ways. Already so exhausted, and ready to just sleep, but….They weren’t making any April fools joke with you. Just as your eyes closed, they moved.

You have a squeak, before a breathy moan, as they pulled out. Left such a mess between all your legs, before you were flipped around. Your hands now on Fred’s chest, and ass presented to George. Out right lining up again.

“Perk-A-Boo~!” Fred teases, as he poked your nose. Just as you wiggled it, they thrusted right back into you. The stimulation of being restuffed was mind melting. Right after your high, and with so much already running down your legs. The sounds of all made were so loud, and wet. Was utterly thrilling.

Fred was happy to drink in your moans, hogging as many kisses as he could. Meanwhile George was happily feeling over your hips. Letting those hard working hands trace the lipstick marks shared between them both.

“Don’t do poor Georgie like that, come on. You gotta moan a little louder. His hearing isn’t so good.” Fred would tease, as he forced your chin up. Trying to amplify your desperate sounds. It was all too much. You were going to reach your peak again, with tears running down your face. Smearing away the remains of your makeup.

“Just hang on a little more. I want to make sure I get nice and deep in there.” Fred comforted, as George planted kisses down your back. Making sure your skin was covered in whatever remained of their lips.

Everything was so blurry, but you knew this. You came again, and your insides were coated once more. The ringing in your ears were dancing with the shakey moans of your lovers. So happy, and satisfied, with wrecking you so much.

When you came back to reality, you realized the lingerie you wore was gone. Seems they made sure to give you a sponge bath, before they were knocked out. You between them, as they snuggled you.

Fred behind you, as he held your stomach. Ever a man that loved feeling your ass against him. Meanwhile George was infront of you, tangling your legs together, as he snuck his arms just above Fred’s. His face under your chin, so he could listen to your heart beat.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You whispered, as you made sure they both were kissed on their heads. Freckled smiles crossed their lips, as they snuggled closer. Fred, enjoying his nose in your neck, while George gave you a squeeze. Maybe you should gift wrap yourself more often.

[jaemmphilia]

heart stop (jung sungchan)

☾ featuring: gym bro! sungchan x m! artist! reader ☾ synopsis: sungchan gets to...sleep with his crush !! ☾ content: (3.3k words), smut (18+ mdni or i will kick you), the sex is protected in this one (gotta be responsible), consensual photo taking, honestly this is just standard smut, nothing special ☾ notes: PART TWO BABYYY, this is a special collab with kyu !!!! @luvkyu this is where the nasty, filthy magic happens ☾ jaemmphilia, 2024. plagiarism of any kind is forbidden.

part one (in case you missed it)

y/n stands at the edge of his bed, his hand holding his chin as he stares at the two sets of clothes laid out so nicely on his bed. his socked feet scratch his bare legs as he hums softly to himself.

y/n is aware that no one at the bonfire is going to care about what he's wearing, too occupied with cuddling close to the fire with their partners or crushes. and y/n is also aware that it's just an outfit, but he doesn't want to turn up to the function looking like hot garbage.

he considers the outfit on his left, but he realizes how much he likes the shirt on the right, it just doesn't go well with the pants on the left. he also considers going to seunghan's dorm and raiding the younger male's closet (seunghan has the best hoodies that smell amazing).

but then y/n's mind wanders to the reason why he's going to the bonfire in the first place.

sungchan.

he feels his face warm up at the thought of possibly snuggling close to sungchan as the light from the fire illuminates his strong features. sungchan's muscular arm wrapped around his shoulders as they whisper about whatever is on their minds.

y/n thinks about the way sungchan had given him a pat on the head just a hours ago, and it makes him chuckle. he doesn't know why sungchan went with a head pat, when there were plenty of other dismissal options in the entire world (a kiss on the cheek would've been less odd).

y/n just shakes his head and checks his phone. he has a few messages form seunghan, the other male announcing he would be barging into y/n's dorm in 5 minutes. y/n prepares himself for his best friend's presence, he quickly gets dressed and fixes his hair how it typically looks on a normal day.

--

when the two males arrive at the beach, bag of drinks in hand, they search around to see if there are any open seats for them to sit in.

"y/n! over here!"

y/n turns his head toward the voice calling his name and he sees shotaro, waving his hands and motioning for him to come over. y/n also notices eunseok and sungchan sitting next to him along with two empty chairs.

y/n smiles and walks over to the trio, seunghan right behind him. y/n picks the chair that's right next to sungchan, forcing seunghan to sit next to eunseok. y/n can see the pout on seunghan's face from his peripherals, but his eyes are on sungchan.

"we brought you guys some drinks," y/n says once he realizes he may have been staring for too long, "we didn't know if drinks would be provided, so we stopped at a 7-11 on our way here."

"y/n, ever the sweetheart. always thinking about others and not himself," shotaro says, bringing his clasped fits up under his chin and wiggling his body from side to side.

y/n stifles a laugh and shakes his head at his friend, "be quiet, taro," y/n chides his friend, reaching into the bag and passing a drink to sungchan to pass to shotaro.

as sungchan takes the can from y/n (he isn't looking at y/n, he's too busy listening to what eunseok is saying about some game), he feels his hand come in contact with something warm. he whips his head to look at the male beside him, his eyes staring intently into y/n's own pair.

sungchan just stares, his chilly fingertips laid gently on top of y/n's much warmer fingertips. shotaro snickers along with eunseok and he can faintly hear the shutter of a camera. he blinks and snaps out his lovestruck trance. he clears his throat and passes the drink down to shotaro who is still giggling like a schoolgirl. sungchan mutters a soft, 'shut up..' which only makes shotaro's giggles turn into full on cackles.

"i'm saving those pictures for a later day, b-t-w," shotaro says once his laughter dies down, and sungchan wishes he could just press the mute button on a remote and shut his friend up and save him from anymore embarrassment.

y/n just snickers and keeps passing the drinks around until there are no more. the group of five open their drinks and enjoy each others' company with light chatter and silly stories.

--

as the night goes on, there are laughs and happy energy shared between the five newfound friends. y/n checks his phone for the first time since they arrived a the bonfire, and he feels the color drain from his face. he gets up quickly, causing the other four guys to look at him with surprise and confusion.

"what's going on, babe?" shotaro asks, his brows furrowed at his friend's sudden frenzy.

y/n doesn't even acknowledge the pet name shotato insists on using. he's too busy digging his fingers into his eyes, a stressed groan falling past his lips.

"my roommate just texted that he was going to be bringing his long-distance boyfriend back to our dorm. so i can't go there tonight," y/n explains, leaning back in his chair, his head tipped back, exposing his neck muscles straining from the movement.

sungchan stares at the exposed skin of y/n's neck. he can't help but let his mind wander what the expanse of skin would look like with dozens of purple and red blotches littering the once clear skin.

sungchan is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels a pinch on his upper arm. he jerks his arm away and rubs at the sore spot as he looks at shotaro pointedly.

shotaro nods toward y/n, silently urging sungchan to offer his dorm and company to his crush. sungchan doesn't say anything for a second, his mind running a mile a minute at the thought of being with y/n in such a small place. he feels his stomach turn and he swallows the lump in his throat.

"you-" sungchan starts, his voice cracking but clears his voice before speaking again, "you can crash at my dorm tonight, my roommate is out of town for a few days."

y/n ponders the offer for a second. does he really want to be alone with his crush in a smaller space than he's used to? he weighs his options; he could either stay with seunghan, who tends to kick in his sleep and oftentimes talks in his sleep, or he could stay with sungchan and possibly get to know the muscular male better in the process.

after a moment of pondering, he replies:

"sure, it would probably be better than sleeping with seunghan, anyways."

"hey, that's mean, y/n!" seunghan defends, pointing a finger at the male who insulted him.

"i wasn't trying to be nice, hannie."

--

sungchan enters his dorm, y/n right behind him. he flips the light switch on, allowing y/n to get a good look at the room. y/n takes in his surroundings, taking note of the posters littering the walls. he sees a lot of sports posters and a few posters of musicians. as y/n's eyes look around, his eyes land on a little photo collage on the wall next to sungchan's bed.

he steps toward the bed to get a better look. he sees some landscape photos and some polaroid photos of shotaro and eunseok. a smile creeps onto his lips as he realizes that sungchan was the one to take the photos.

"i didn't know you did photography," y/n points out, making sungchan turn to the other male, "you're really good."

sungchan's cheeks grow pink at the compliment. not a lot of people are aware of his hobby, only his close friends and some of his family members.

"thanks. it's really just a hobby that i indulge in when i'm not in the gym or in class," sungchan explains, "i have more pictures. if you want to see them, that is."

"i would love to see them! besides, you've seen my art, i think it's only fair i get to see yours."

sungchan just chuckles and get his camera out of its bag. he powers the device on and waits for it to boot up. y/n marvels at the camera.

"woah, i didn't expect you to have a high quality camera. i figured you took them on your phone." y/n says, his eyes wide as he looks at the expensive camera.

"i mean, i like taking pics on my phone for portability reasons, but i like the outcome of the pictures way more when they're taken with this camera." sungchan explains, y/n letting out a soft 'oh' in understanding.

"i know how you feel. i have cheaper supplies available to me, but i like the outcome of the more expensive supplies better."

sungchan nods in agreement and he shows y/n the various pictures he's taken with his camera, the two of them sitting on sungchan's bed, their arms touching. neither of them seem to mind that their arms are touching because of how close they are.

once they get to the end of the photos, they look at each other and finally take in the proximity. sungchan stares into y/n eyes before his eyes automatically flit to the male's lips.

y/n takes notice of this and decides to lick his lips while sungchan stares. sungchan sucks in a breath, his eyes wide.

"is something wrong, channie?" y/n teases, and typically the nickname wouldn't turn him on, but the way y/n says it has sungchan's cock twitching in his pants.

"can i kiss you, y/n? i don't know if i can hold back any longer."

y/n just simply nods, and sungchan gathers up as much courage as he can, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips.

sungchan scoots closer and leans in to connect his lips with y/n's. the kiss starts out soft, their lips molding together for a moment before sungchan's hand comes up to cup y/n's jaw gently. sungchan's tongue swipes against y/n's plush bottom lip, the other male allowing him to slide the wet muscle inside his mouth.

the kiss only escalates from there, the male swapping spit and moaning into each other's mouths. sungchan pulls away and attaches his lips to y/n's neck, kissing the skin lightly. y/n just sighs, tipping his head to the side to give sungchan more room to work with. y/n slides his hands around to sungchan's back and he slides them under sungchan's hoodie, discovering that the male doesn't have a shirt on.

y/n lets his hands rub and grip at sungchan's muscular back. he feels the male nibble at the side of his neck and he moans softly at the feeling. it stings, but in a good way.

sungchan ends up lightly pushing y/n down to lay on the bed. sungchan is grateful that he and his roommate decided against putting their beds atop each other to make bunkbeds. if they had done that, sungchan would have definitely hit his head and possibly concussed himself before he was even able to touch his crush.

sungchan climbs over y/n and sits back on his heels. he quickly pulls off his hoodie, allowing y/n to see the one thing he dreamt about seeing. y/n takes in sungchan's bare torso, his skin the perfect honey color. y/n takes in the way sungchan's muscles ripple with every single movement he makes and y/n feels like he's drooling.

sungchan connects his lips with y/n's again, his arms on either side of the smaller male.

as they continue to make out on sungchan's bed, they take turns ridding each other of their clothes until the both of them are fully naked in front of each other.

as sungchan takes in y/n's naked form laid out on his bed, his eyes glance at his camera sitting on his bedside table. y/n notices that sungchan is looking at his camera and he already knows where sungchan's mind is going.

"i'll let you take one picture," y/n says, his hand reaching up to lightly pull sungchan's head to look at him, "if you keep it in a secret folder where no one can ever see it but you."

sungchan nods with out hesitation. he would hate to betray y/n's trust, especially before the two of them even had the chance to talk about their very obvious feelings for each other.

"yes, of course. i wouldn't dare show anyone something as intimate as this," sungchan says, reaching over to grab his camera and fiddle with the settings.

once he gets his settings exactly how he wants them, he holds his camera up to his eye to see what kind of angle he's looking for. sungchan gets into his photographer mode, his brows furrowed and his tongue poking out from between his lips.

y/n just giggles at the male, a soft smile painting his pretty face. sungchan quickly snaps a few pictures, capturing y/n's gentle smile and his eyes that are closed. y/n's wasn't posing purposely, he was just laying there on the bed, his body language comfortable, with this hardening length covered by his plush thigh.

sungchan removes the camera from his face and he takes a look at the results. his breath hitches and a warm feeling pools in his stomach. his cock stands at full hardness, which doesn't go unnoticed by y/n.

y/n sits up and reaches out to stroke sungchan's length. his hand wraps around the males cock, his up and down movements very slow, but his grip is snug.

sungchan almost doubles over, nearly dropping his camera. y/n apologizes with a laugh, his movements pausing while sungchan carefully puts his camera away.

once the camera is safe and sound, y/n begins to stroke the cock in his hand. he adjusts his position so he is able to wrap his lips around sungchan's cock. y/n bobs his head up and down, his tongue licking around the underside of sungchan's cock. his hands stroke whatever he can't fit in his mouth, and sungchan knows he isn't going to last if y/n keeps going.

sungchan shudders, a telltale sign that he's close to his release. sungchan places his hand on y/n's head and lightly grips at the male's strands of hair at his crown.

"y/n, baby," he sighs out, his head lolling backward, "baby, you have to stop before i bust."

y/n looks up at sungchan through his long lashes and detaches himself from sungchan's cock with a wet pop.

sungchan regains his composure and looks down at the male in front of him. y/n has drool mixed with precum gathered at the corners of his mouth and on his lips. sungchan gets the two of them back in their laying position, his hand snaking toward y/n's behind.

sungchan kisses y/n while his hand slips between the male's cheeks, his fingers gliding along y/n's rim. this action draws a shiver and a whine out of y/n, the male's eyes closing.

sungchan slips a finger passed the puckered muscle, taking note of how easy it was to do so. had y/n touched himself before the bonfire in hopes of getting fucked by him?

"my finger just slid right in," sungchan says after he stops kissing y/n, "did you prep yourself beforehand?"

y/n's face and neck gets warm at sungchan's question, he takes a second to answer, his mind clouded with sungchan, sungchan, and sungchan.

"i did, but not before the bonfire," y/n says, his voice shaky from the amount of pleasure he's under.

sungchan nods, slipping in another finger and spreading his digits to stretch the male (although he's stretched pretty good, what did he use?).

"you stretched yourself pretty good, baby. think you can take me?" sungchan teases, chuckling at how y/n writhes under him.

"channie, please," y/n begs.

"please what, baby? you gotta use your words."

"please fuck me, i can take it," y/n continues to beg and whine, his back arching off of the bed as his cock spurts precum from the tip.

sungchan wastes no more time, reaching over to dig in his bedside table's drawer to fetch his condoms and lube. once he retrieves the items, he tears the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls the rubber onto his cock.

he shuffles his way in between y/n's spread legs and guides his slick cock into y/n's entrance. the two of them let out moans in unison, sungchan's being deep and guttural, while y/n's was more whiny.

sungchan bottoms out and allows himself to really gauge his current situation. he's buried deep inside his crush, something he never thought he would ever get to experience. sungchan allows y/n to adjust to his length and once he notices the male begin to rut his hips, he starts to rock his hips forward.

sungchan hovers over y/n, his arms once again caging the male in. sungchan sets a normal pace, not too fast, but not slow either. sungchan is aware that y/n isn't a virgin and that he's fairly experienced in the sex department, but he doesn't want to overwhelm the male under him. this is their first time together and he doesn't want to ruin it by being greedy.

"you can pick up the pace, please," y/n says, his face twisted up with pleasure, but sungchan can tell that he wants more.

sungchan replies by rutting his hips at a quicker pace, his entire length disappearing inside y/n, making the two of them moan and groan together.

after a handful of thrusts, y/n starts to get even whinier and his grip on sungchan's bicep tightens. the male arches his back and his cock starts leaking, the whiteish liquid dribbling down the sides of his cock.

sungchan picks up the pace once again, his hips beginning to stutter as he feels that familiar band in his lower stomach stretching and finally snapping, spilling his load into the condom. y/n follows right after, his load splattering against his stomach, some of it landing on sungchan's lower stomach.

--

the sun beats into the window, the bright light shining right into sungchan's eyes, making him squeeze his eyes shut as he stirs. his body feels spent as he remembers what happened last night.

his arms also feel full and as he adjusts to the light, he sees y/n laying there in his arms, the male scrolling on his phone. sungchan can't quite see what the male is looking at, but he guesses it is either social media or pinterest.

"morning," y/n says as he feels sungchan stirring and waking up, "did the sun wake you up?"

sungchan hums an affirmative, his hand reaching up to rub at his eyes, his body stretching, muscles flexing. the early morning glow warms up the natural honey color of sungchan's skin, the shadows of the blinds making him look like a painting made by leonardo da vinci himself. he hears a camera shutter and he opens his eyes.

y/n is no longer in his arms, but he's laying across from him, his phone in front of his face as he wears a cheeky smile on his face. sungchan gives him a puzzled look and y/n just giggles.

"what? i needed a drawing reference," y/n explains himself, squealing when sungchan pulls him flush against his chest, his hands lightly grazing the male's skin and tickling him.

"i guess it's only fair because i took pictures of you last night," sungchan says, resting his chin on top of y/n's head.

y/n just nuzzles his face in sungchan's neck, his nose lightly rubbing the skin, making goosebumps form on the male's skin.

the two of them spend the morning cuddled up in bed, choosing to ignore their friends texts asking if they're both alive and if they're sore.

[fancyfeathers]

Hope this gives your muscles a bit of a working.

Yandere! Capilano who clings to a songbird that has come and gone in his existence. A witch, an elf who met Capitano at a festival before Khaneri'ah fell. A storyteller who was there to see the event.

She who popped up every few decades in his travels, a familiarity untainted by the event. A light.

This just gives me Alice and Andersdotter vibes, Klee’s mom and one of the creators of Simulanka, so Hexenzirkel darling anyone?

She was probably friends with Rhinedottir when Khaneri’ah fell, the two of them perhaps being the oldest out of the entire the entire Hexenzirkel, being alive long before it was even formed. Which is how they met, when she was visiting her dearest alchemist friend when a celebration arose in Khaneri’ah. Then certainly at that time the Captain would have been a sight to behold, a knight in shining armor, a rather odd pairing since the knight normally falls for the princess and not the witch, but she felt far from a witch in how she acted. She was not from or lived in Khaneri’ah but still managed to get everyone to warm up to her in a matter of moments, dancing with the children, making flowers out of thin air for a young man to give to a young lady he was in love with, helping a baby fall asleep while chatting with the baby’s parents.

He just manages to catch her in conversation and the contrast between them is clear, the lover and the fighter, the witch and the knight. There is just a joy in her that he cannot understand where it comes from, just like a constantly burning fire. Sadly their meeting does not last long, cut off by catastrophe…

The years go by and he does not see her until nearly a century later, after he left Natlan for the first time, after the Fatui had formed, and after the rot had begun to set in. He was on a mission in the Nation of Freedom and it was there he was her again, sitting under a tree, having tea with a few of her friends. A few of them are familiar to him, well only her and Rhinedottir, but she looked as if she had not aged a day, well she certainly had a change in style with her clothing and perhaps her hair but that was it. Honestly he did not expect her to recognize him especially at the distance he was walking past, after all their first meeting was brief and his helmet hid his nearly unrecognizable face, but still somehow she knew it was him. She ran up and hugged him like he was an old friend and as if she never had a care in the world, his subordinates were certainly not pleased by this. He only gets to visit with her for a short time before having to leave once again to continue his mission but when he does there is just undeniable yearning building up in his chest.

Then years go by again and he finds out the group she was with was the coven known as the Hexenzirkel, a group of witches who had strength who could rival that of the gods. He finds this odd as he could never see her as strong in that sense, she seemed like she would never even hurt a fly. This fact bothers him out of his mind, he cannot comprehend it nor can he accept it as it feels it only pulls what he wants further and further out of his grasp so that he may never obtain it.

It is not until he encounters her in Natlan and she just watches as the bloodshed from the abyss happens once again and she does not even help and just watches. He feels betrayed, someone who was to kind and held so much power in their hands would just let this sort of thing happen.

He will bring her to her knees after it all, let her lay bleeding on the ground like those people she refused to help. Though unlike those people she will not allowed to die, her punishment will be having to live with the thought that she could have done something to save herself know as the Captain drags her along with him, trapped in his hold forever more.