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whitedarkmoonflower · 4 months

Text

Indelicate proposal

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @thatawkwardlittlefangirl and @itzavahere I told you I'll blame you both for planting this idea into my head. So here it is and I've no idea why this initially short drabble grew into something so monstrous as it is now. I just hope you'll enjoy. And this is the meme that actually triggered it all 😅

Warnings: fluff, SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, sub/dom undertones, slightly dominant reader, praise kink, hints to past abuse, Sihtric being a bit lost but absolutely the sweetest (don't know whether this is a warning but just in case 😅)

Summary: an unexpected proposal leads to more unexpected actions as you discover the surprisingly soft core of the young warrior seeking your attention. Can't claim there is much plot despite the word count

Word Count: 7,1 K

"Sihtric is with us now," Uhtred declared simply, devoid of any pomp or solemnity. The decision was made, requiring no further confirmation.

From the sidelines, you had observed the scene unfold beside Lady Gisela, your hand poised on the hilt of your sword, ready to spring into action if need be, prepared to protect her if necessary. Your eyes scanned every slight movement of the young prisoner, who held Halig hostage.

His slender yet well-built frame was taut like a drawn bow, every muscle vibrating with tension. His eyes darted nervously around the gathering, briefly meeting your scrutinising gaze before settling on Uhtred.

Wide and expressive, his eyes, framed by thick lashes, gleamed with a blend of despair and determination. Despite the tightness in his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, there was no hint of malice or cruelty in his gaze, only a fierce resolve to endure, akin to that of a trapped wild animal.

A fresh wound above the Dane's temple left a hint of red in his short-cropped hair on the sides. The purple blue bruise marrying his left eye, the fresh cuts and scrapes on his arms, and his bleeding nose and lip added to his battered appearance. He was young, likely even a few summers younger than yourself, but the way his muscles rippled beneath the skin, told you there was much more hidden beneath his youthful and even soft features.

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed the young Dane, realising that his greenness might have lulled the vigilance of the guards tasked with watching him. It was a tactic you knew well, one you had used to your advantage countless times before.

Gisela's worried whisper broke through your thoughts. "Do you believe he can be trusted?"

"We'll have to see," you responded with a nonchalant shrug, drawing your dagger from its sheath, prompted by Uhtred's nod in your direction.

Approaching the young man cautiously, your eyes locked onto his, noticing the dilation of his pupils and the tense set of his muscles. It was evident he was unsure of what to expect from you and braced himself instinctively for an attack.

"Hands," you demanded, tilting your head. He tried to maintain composure, but his breath betrayed him, quickening as his chest rose and fell unevenly. With a hesitant glance at Uhtred and the others dispersing from the clearing, leaving just the two of you behind, he extended his bound hands toward you. They trembled slightly, his chest now still as he held his breath in anticipation.

Pressing your dagger against the ropes, you made a swift cut, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric. His eyes followed the falling remnants of the ropes, landing at his feet, his hands remaining outstretched as if in disbelief of his newfound freedom.

Raising his gaze to meet yours, your eyes locked - two deep pools of different colours filled with a mixture of alarm and trepidation, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you.

"You're free," you confirmed, and a faint smile touched the corners of the young warrior’s lips, though it failed to reach his eyes, a subtle sadness lurking within their depths.

Sheathing your dagger, you turned to leave, but halted after a few steps, casting a questioning glance back. Sihtric remained where you had left him, rubbing his wrists, a perplexed and somewhat sheepish expression gracing his handsome features. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed him, a curious warmth blooming within you. It seemed he was at a loss for what to do now that his audacious plan to gain Uhtred’s attention had unexpectedly granted him freedom.

"Sihtric, are you coming?" you called out, surprised when the young Dane visibly flinched at the sound of his name. His eyes flicked towards you, and in the next moment, he hurried into motion, falling into step behind you.

"Can't you sit still?" you whispered with exasperation, your patience wearing thin. Cleaning Sihtric’s head wound had become a challenging endeavour, akin to trying to pin down a spooked animal. He squirmed and shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench, his hands restless as they roamed from the collar of his armour to his sides and back again, as if uncertain where to settle.

It was evident that the simple act of being tended to was deeply unsettling for him. As you reached out again with the damp rag, Sihtric, caught off guard by your movement, flinched and nearly leaped from his seat. In his startled reaction, he accidentally overturned the bowl of warm water you held, splashing both you and the ground.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hastily clasped his hands between his knees. Avoiding your gaze, his eyes darted around the tent, searching for a means of escape.

You furrowed your brow, taking a step back to observe the young Dane before you, who seemed as though he'd prefer to vanish into thin air.

It all felt painfully familiar, an almost long-forgotten image emerging in the back of your mind like a jagged shard of glass. You saw her clearly, that young girl with wild hair and desperate eyes, caught in the act of stealing from a lady with cascading dark curls and a smile that could melt the coldest heart.

You had snarled and recoiled when she reached out to touch your unkempt locks, expecting a whip but met with only kindness. She offered you food, a bath, and clothes to replace the ragged remnants hanging from your frail frame. Yet, despite this generosity, you fled the very same night. Sneaking out of the room offered to you, you ran without looking back, incapable to comprehend why you were treated with such goodness, feeling suffocated by it all, unable to bear the weight of her compassion.

A month later, you encountered her again in the bustling marketplace of Eoferwick, your fingers once more grasping for the purse at her side.

"My name is Gisela," she had said, her smile unwavering as you returned the stolen purse later that evening, cheeks flushed with shame. From that moment on, you never strayed from her side.

Meanwhile Sihtric’s gaze had shifted downward, fixated on his worn boots. Shoulders slumped and slightly hunched over, the young warrior, possessing the strength and skill to disarm two grown men with his hands securely bound, resembled a child caught in mischief, anticipating reprimand.

You softened your expression and extended a reassuring smile towards him. "It's alright, Sihtric," you said gently, your tone soothing as you reached out, resting your hand on his shoulder. "Just try to relax. Can you do that for me? We'll get through this together. You’re safe here."

Retrieving a bowl from the ground, you headed outside to fetch warm water from the kettle over the crackling fire.

"Would you mind if I tended to your wounds?" you asked, your tone tender, pausing to give him space. You sensed how crucial it was for him to feel in control, so you waited patiently, allowing him to make his own decision.

After a moment of uncertainty, Sihtric acquiesced with a slow nod, exhaling deeply. His gaze remained fixed on you as you drew near, this time handing him the bowl to occupy his restless hands. As you resumed your task of cleaning away the blood and applying salve to the bruises, a sense of relief washed over you as Sihtric remained seated, clutching the bowl as if it were a lifeline. Despite his body still being tense and his breaths ragged, he managed to keep himself still long enough for you to complete your work.

"It looks much better now," you remarked with a smile, stepping aside to assess the result of your efforts.

"It seems you've got yourself a new admirer," Gisela teased, nudging you in the side with a playful smile.

"What?" you replied, pretending to be clueless.

"Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the way that young Dane looks at you. What was his name again?"

"You mean Sihtric?" you confirmed.

"Yes, Sihtric," Gisela chuckled, holding onto your hand despite your attempt to pull away.

"Tell me all about him!"

"There's not much to tell," you dismissed, feeling a bit bashful.

"Come on, he practically can't take his eyes off you. Your horse has never looked better, and your gear is always impeccably cared for. How many times has he leapt to his feet, overthrowing the bench he was sitting on, to fetch you ale before you've even asked?"

Of course, you couldn't overlook any of it. Over the past week, Sihtric had become like your shadow. Your horse received extra care, your weapons gleamed with attention, even the loose ropes of your tent were neatly secured, and the kettle by your fire was constantly refilled with fresh water.

You tried to reason with him, insisting that such efforts weren't necessary. You were perfectly capable of handling your own belongings. Yet, he remained resolute. He didn’t argue with you, offering only a simple, "Yes, lady," with his gaze cast downward and his arms stiff at his sides. The following day, when you approached the horses, your mare was already tended to, her coat gleaming and her feed replenished.

"Sihtric, what are you doing here?" you exclaimed, surprised to find the young warrior curled up near the entrance of your tent, wrapped in the furs and blankets you had provided for him on his first day in camp.

Lost in discussions with Uhtred and Gisela about Guthred's intended negotiations with the Turgilsons brothers, time had slipped away from you. Sihtric had proven invaluable, gathering crucial intelligence on the brothers' forces and camp location, earning praise and rewards from Uhtred. Alongside his prowess with a blade, the young Dane showed remarkable cunning as a spy and scout, excelling at remaining unnoticed.

Regret washed over you as your words escaped, realising the abruptness of your tone. Sihtric practically jumped to his feet, rubbing his eyes and trying to regain composure, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and panic as he surveyed his surroundings.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in your tent?” you asked, lowering your voice and aiming for a soothing tone.

“I... Um... Clapa snores,” he offered uncertainly.

“Are you spying on me?”

“No, lady, why would I? I... I wouldn’t dare. I just wanted to be close in case you needed something.”

“Sihtric, we've had this discussion before. You're not my servant. I can take care of my horse and my weapons just fine,” you said firmly, the frustration evident in your tone.

Sihtric's shoulders dropped, and he cast his gaze downwards. “Are you upset with me, my lady? Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Sihtric, my horse will burst if you keep feeding her like this, and I fear there'll soon be a hole polished into my sword.”

“I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean any harm. I only wanted to help, to be of use. I won't bother you anymore,” Sihtric stammered, hastily gathering his belongings.

A pang of sympathy tugged at your heart. You hadn't intended to hurt his feelings, but you clearly had.

“Wait, don't go. I didn't mean it like that,” you reached out instinctively, gripping his arm in an attempt to stop him from leaving.

Sihtric froze as your fingers grazed his skin, his breath seeming to catch in his throat. Sensing his discomfort, you quickly withdrew your hand.

“I'm sorry,” you apologised, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I truly appreciate your help, Sihtric. It's just that sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at the young man before you. Despite your initial suspicions, you couldn't deny the genuine kindness in his demeanour. His innocence and vulnerability reminded you of yourself in many ways, and the way he often appeared completely lost and overwhelmed by his new surroundings was so familiar to you that against your better judgement, you found yourself growing fond of him. Perhaps even more than you were ready to admit.

“Can I offer you some hot tea?” you suddenly asked, eager to show him a bit of appreciation. Sihtric nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You held the tent flaps open, inviting him inside with a graceful gesture. Sihtric followed, still clutching the bundle of furs and blanket in his arms. Inside, you swiftly illuminated the tent with the warm glow of candles, then located two cups and filled them with herbs and hot water. Turning back to your guest, who stood just a few steps from the entrance, you offered him a welcoming smile.

“Would you like to take a seat?” you asked, extending your arm with the cup towards Sihtric. He set the bundle on the ground and accepted the offered cup, but remained rooted to the spot. You watched as he wrapped his palms around the cup, which seemed almost small in his large hands. The intricate lines tattooed on his fingers caught your eye, and wondered if they held any special meaning, but you decided against asking.

Sihtric shifted nervously from one foot to another, lifting the cup to his lips for a small sip. Several times, he seemed on the verge of speaking, but each time, the words eluded him.

You observed him quietly for a moment, allowing the soothing silence to linger a little longer. It was evident that something weighed heavily on the young warrior's mind, but you didn’t want to press him.

Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, prompting you to break the silence. “Is there something you want to say, Sihtric?” you inquired, offering him an encouraging smile.

“I… I’m not sure how to put it,” Sihtric muttered, his gaze flitting around as he took a tentative step back towards the entrance, as if contemplating a hasty departure. It wasn't the first time you noticed his tendency to seek an exit strategy.

With deliberate steps, you approached, trying not to appear too imposing, and halted directly in front of him, meeting his gaze with gentle assurance. “Go ahead, I’m all ears,” you prompted, offering him your full attention.

“I mean… I wanted to… I wanted to ask you… if maybe you and I… if I could…” His words stumbled over each other, his breath quickening, cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. “Would you mind if I… if I humped you?” he finally blurted out in a single breath, his gaze darting nervously to the ground.

“You what?” You choked on the hot liquid you had just brought to your lips, spluttering it onto Sihtric’s leather armour. The surprise and incredulity in your voice were difficult to mask.

"Gods… I… I like you. You are so beautiful and kind. I’ve never met someone like you and… and… please don’t be angry with me. I… I can give you everything I have, all my rings, look, I mean it,” he hastily removed his arm rings, recently gifted by Uhtred, and began pulling rings off his fingers, the cup in his hands hindering him until it finally fell to the ground.

You looked at Sihtric, unsure of how to respond. You should have felt offended, but the earnestness and embarrassment on his face suggested he hadn’t meant to offend you.

Sihtric stretched his arms toward you, presenting all his valuable belongings.

"Do you think I'm a whore?" you finally asked, meeting his gaze with a mix of surprise and concern.

"What? No, why? By the Gods, no…" Sihtric's voice faltered, revealing his nervousness. You noticed him taking a cautious step backward, edging closer to the exit. "I didn’t mean it that way… It’s just… back home, in Dunholm, the girls always asked for something in return to let me hump them. And ... and they said they enjoyed me. I didn’t have much to give, but I always found something, like a piece of cloth or a blanket, or fresh-baked bread. So I thought… I thought… since you're a lady… if I offered you silver…"

Sihtric gulped, clearly sensing your disapproving gaze. “The other warriors and Kjartan used to mock me for giving away all my belongings. I know they were having the girls even against their will, but my mom always told me that real strength isn't about hurting those weaker than you. I mean… back then when she was still around,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush like an unstoppable stream.

“Gods, now you are really angry with me. You must think poorly of me. I’m such a fool. Please forgive me, lady. I’m sorry. I better be going before I say something even dumber. It’s all yours, anyway.”

Before you could respond, he hastily deposited all his silver and gold into your hands and turned to leave.

Staring down at the glimmering wealth he had thrust upon you, disbelief washed over you. "Hold on! You can’t just give me all this! Wait!" you protested, but Sihtric was already halfway out of the tent. "Stop, get back here," you commanded firmly, and to your relief, Sihtric froze in his tracks.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly, turning back to face you, though he avoided meeting your gaze. "Please don't think badly of me. I'm not like my father, I never wanted to be."

It was just a tiny glimpse into his past life, but even that filled you with sadness and sympathy. Setting the unexpected gifts down on a nearby table, you made your way to the tent entrance, drawing the flaps closed behind you. You turned back to Sihtric, blocking his way out. You couldn’t leave it like this; you needed to have a talk.

"Hey, I'm not angry. I'm just kinda surprised," you said, stepping closer.

"Surprised?" Sihtric let out a relieved sigh, but he still wouldn't look you in the eyes, his embarrassment clear even in the dim candlelight, with his cheeks flushed red.

You shook your head as you continued to observe him. He was undeniably good-looking, his muscular build catching your eye, and you couldn’t deny you felt attracted to him, but there was something about the young warrior that went beyond looks. You had already gathered that his life hadn’t been a smooth ride on a paved road, and you wondered how deep the scars in his heart ran, realising that the few visible ones he carried on his handsome face were merely the surface of a much larger tapestry of pain and suffering.

"I like you too, Sihtric, and I just want to know you better," you said, stepping forward slightly.

"You do?" disbelief and even suspicion were evident in his voice.

You moved with deliberate care, allowing Sihtric to observe every motion as you reached out and tenderly cupped his face. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. Your thumb softly traced his cheek, and with a heartfelt sigh, Sihtric leaned into your touch, snuggling against your palm.

You pulled back your hand quickly, worried that he might misinterpret your gesture as anything more than a reassuring comfort to show you were not angry. The faint whimper that escaped his lips, followed by a sigh, cut through you sharply, echoing in your mind.

"Please... could you... do that once more?" Sihtric said under his breath, opening his eyes to meet yours, his expression filled with earnest pleading.

"Do what?" You paused, momentarily confused.

"That... that thing you just did," he replied.

"That thing? You mean when I caressed your cheek?" A gentle chuckle escaped you as you noticed the blush spreading across Sihtric's cheeks. "Like this?" you asked, reaching out again to cradle his jaw gently, your thumb skimming the corner of his mouth. Sihtric immediately responded, leaning into your touch, his eyes closing and his breathing deepening.

You closed the gap between you, gently tilting his face toward yours, and he instinctively followed, your foreheads lightly touching. "When was the last time someone touched you like this?" you asked, and although you suspected the answer, it still caught you off guard.

"I don't remember," he whispered back, his voice tinged with a faint tremor.

You weren’t really sure what made you do it; it wasn't something you'd planned. You just wanted to smooth over the awkwardness caused by his indelicate proposal and unexpected admissions, to let him know you weren't upset. It was evident the young warrior had no real understanding how inappropriate his offer actually was.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask, so much you wanted to understand. But instead of asking anything, something inside you took over. You found yourself standing on your tiptoes and kissing him, holding his face in your hands and pulling him closer.

Your lips brushed against Sihtric’s, a little rough from the wind, and you could taste the faint hint of ale and the tea you’d made earlier in his quick, shallow breaths. Your heart was racing, pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears, and a fluttery feeling filled your stomach. Sure, you’d kissed before—some who were charming and passionate, and some who definitely weren’t princes—but this somehow felt so different and it was a bit embarrassing, especially since Sihtric didn’t kiss you back.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." you stammered, pulling back abruptly, taken aback by your own spontaneity. So much for just wanting to talk to him. Sihtric stood there, eyes closed and hands at his sides, as still as a statue. The silence thickened around you as you tried to steady your pounding heart. It was perplexing; the young Dane had wanted to hump you, yet he didn’t even respond to a kiss. What the heck?

Just as the wave of embarrassment hit its peak and you considered asking him to leave, Sihtric’s hand reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Please, can we... Can we try again?" he breathed, leaning in and tentatively pressing his lips against yours..

It was a soft and cautious kiss, his lips barely brushing yours, as tender as a feather's touch against skin—a gentle probe for warmth and connection. Feeling your head spin slightly, you kissed back with more intensity and passion, drawing a low groan from Sihtric.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, breaking the tender embrace of your lips but keeping his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was warm and ticklish against your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued to stroke your cheek with his thumb, his breathing shallow and unsteady.

"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I... I do. I've never been kissed like that before," Sihtric admitted, his voice carrying a note of surprise mixed with sadness.

His response took you aback once more. "Did the girls in Dunholm require extra payment to let you kiss them?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

With his eyes still closed, Sihtric shook his head. "No, they never allowed me to kiss them. They never touched me the way you just did. Not even the women in the alehouse that Tekil paid for," he added, his voice fading into a whisper.

Without speaking, you reached out and drew him into a firm embrace, feeling his body stiffen briefly as if he might pull away. But you held on, your fingers gently combing through his hair. After a moment, his resistance eased, and Sihtric relaxed into your hold, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Slowly, his arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer against his chest.

For a while, you both just stood there, the warmth of your bodies wrapping around you like a soft blanket. His deep longing for attention and warmth, for genuine love and friendship—those simple joys that breathe life into existence tugged at your heart. You had found such treasures in Gisela's unconditional care and friendship years ago, and now you just tried to convey at least a small fraction of that same comfort with your gentle touches and steadfast embrace.

As Sihtric's breath warmed your neck, you felt his large hands pull you closer at the small of your back, his lips seeking yours again with a newfound passion. The kiss unfolded slowly, deeply, and you savoured each moment, losing yourself in the tenderness of his embrace. Your lips moved together in harmony, his hands tenderly stroking your back and hair, fanning the timid spark that had flickered to life at your first touch into a fervent blaze, making you crave for more.

Breaking the kiss elicited a soft whimper from Sihtric. "Come," you said in a low voice, gently taking his hand and leading the way. Sihtric followed, a slight bewilderment crossing his face.

"I don’t want you to hump me," you began, looking up at him as he stood beside your fur-covered bed.

Sihtric’s eyes dropped to the ground once more. “It was so stupid of me to ask, I’m sorry…” he said hastily.

"Shh, listen to me," you interrupted, placing your index finger to Sihtric’s lips to silence him. "I want to show you something. Do you trust me?"

"Lady, I would trust you with my life," he replied, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an intensity that made you smile.

"Good, because I want to share something special with you, and I need you to trust me, to feel safe. I want to make love to you, Sihtric," you spoke softly, placing your hand on his chest and gently urging him backward onto the fur-covered bed. "Trust me," you repeated, and with wide eyes, Sihtric allowed himself to be guided down.

Seated on the cushioned surface, he watched you with anticipation as you settled onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. You pulled him into another kiss, and this time, you abandoned all restraint. Your fingers wove through his hair as your tongue eagerly explored his lips, seeking entry into his mouth. With a soft gasp, he yielded, allowing you to deepen the kiss, and you revelled in the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped Sihtric as your tongue explored his mouth, clashing against his. His hands tentatively wandered up your hips and along your back, drawing you nearer to him.

You traced a trail of soft kisses along his jaw, playfully nipping at him with your teeth. Each touch of your lips drew a low moan from Sihtric, encouraging you to linger on his sensitive neck and suckle at his skin, leaving behind a few lingering marks. Even through the layers of fabric between you, you could feel his arousal growing, prompting you to grind your hips against his, seeking friction.

Sihtric responded with a deliciously soft moan, his hips rising to meet yours, his breathing growing rapid. Your hands skillfully loosened the laces of his leather armour, but as you began to pull it away, he suddenly tensed, his hands catching yours to stop you. "You may not like what you see," he murmured softly.

Confused by his hesitation, you gently insisted, "Why? Sihtric, let me. I want to see you, to feel you. You told me you trust me," your voice soft but persuasive, and eventually, his resistance crumbled as he released your hands.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his well-defined abdomen, muscles rippling under his skin, but it was the scars crisscrossing his torso that held your attention. Some were thin, precise lines across his chest, likely from a blade, while others, more rugged and widespread across his shoulders and back, were surely traces of a wip. Gently, you traced these marks with your fingertips, emotion rising within you.

"My goodness, Sihtric," you whispered, guiding his chin gently to keep his gaze from averting, and then you brought your lips to his in a tender kiss. "You should never feel ashamed of these. Wear your scars with pride. They're evidence of your strength and resilience. Don't let your past dictate your future," you murmured against his mouth, feeling the tension that had crept into his body begin to melt away.

He looked up at you with a shy smile and released a soft sigh, as he licked his lips before he drew you in closer. His kisses along your neck were soft and filled with gentleness and purpose, sending shivers down your spine, the feeling of his tongue against your skin igniting a growing desire between your legs.

With a chuckle, you asked, "Could you give me a hand?" and guided Sihtric's hands to the laces of your armour. His puzzled expression brought a smile to your lips as you nodded, and together you swiftly worked to remove your armour. You giggled at the sharp exhale that left him as your breasts bounced out from beneath your tunic.

“You can touch them, and you can kiss them, just be gentle,” you encouraged with a smile.

“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric uttered softly, his hands hesitantly cupping your breasts. You arched your back with a soft sigh as his lips wrapped around your hardened nipple and gently suckled on it, hands caressing your bare back.

“Yes, just like that,” you didn’t even try to muffle the moan that tore through you, your fingers tangling in his soft and thick hair, as he turned his attention to your other nipple, while his hands traced down your spine to your buttocks, squeezing them.

Your hands found their way to the hem of his breeches, unlacing them and slipping inside. Sihtric groaned at your touch, his breath picking up rapidly, as you stoked his already fully hard length.

Sihtric effortlessly lifted you, his grip firm as he flipped you onto the furs and settled himself between your thighs.

With eager breaths, you shed the last remnants of clothing, allowing your bodies to meld together. Sihtric's tender kisses and gentle touch on your bare skin setting ablaze a fiery sensation within you.

"Come closer," you mumbled, drawing Sihtric into a tight embrace, cradling him between your legs. Your fingers traced gentle paths over his scars as you savoured the sensation of his warm, muscular form against yours. You listened intently to his heavy breathing, feeling the heat of his body seeping into your bones, while his fingers grazed your skin and his nose nestled against your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I’ve heard the pleasure one can bestow with the tongue could be indescribable, but I’ve never done it before. Will you teach me?” he asked and you almost choked on your breath as Sihtric’s lips started to trail a path of tender kisses down your naked body.

“Oh, Sihtric,” you gasped as his hot breath hit your core. You reached out, grabbing his hair, and he moaned as you guided him, where you craved for him.

“Yes, here, use your tongue, pretty boy. Oh, gods,” the first laps of his tongue against your pulsing bundle made you squirm and whine. “Just keep going. You are so good ... oh, oh please don’t stop … it feels godly … you are made for this,” you mewled, rolling your hips against Sihtric’s face.

You heard his breath stutter with every praise you gave him, as he got more and more eager to please you, his tongue alternating between quick and soft licks and long and teasing wipes, the soft moans leaving him telling you how much he was enjoying this.

Your grip in Sihtric’s hair tightened as you felt your climax quickly building up and you tugged him closer to your perl. “Here, suck on it,” you panted, and your head snapped back as Sihtric’s lips encircled your oversensitive nub, sucking gently at it.

The lewd sounds, that rolled over your lips, spurred him on, each lap of his hot tongue sending waves of increasing pleasure through your body, each swirl around your clit making you whimper and whine.

“Put your finger inside me,” you mewled between heavy breaths and whined out loud as Sihtric did as told, sucking harder on your clit. “Oh by Freya and Freyr, yess, yessss, you are such a good boy,” you tugged harder on his hair, pushing your hips up against his eager mouth and Sihtric groaned in pleasure against your cunt.

You had no idea whether he knew what he was doing or was it pure instinct, as he added another finger and started moving them in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. His tongue kept lapping through your folds, and after a few thrusts the pleasure exploded within you as he pushed you over the edge. You moaned his name into the silence of the night, as you came undone, tugging on Sihtric’s hair and gasping for breath.

With a satisfied smile on his lips he kissed his way back to your lips, your eyes glassy and chest heaving heavily as you slowly came down from your high.

“You are so delicious,” he murmured quietly, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“I thought you had never done it before,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, still floating between this world and the afterglow of the probably most intense orgasm you had ever had.

“You are such a good teacher and I learn quickly,” he murmured between kisses.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your belly, and you let your hand wander down, your fingers sliding over the sensitive tip, gathering precum and spreading it all over his rigid length with slow sensual strokes.

Sihtric moaned at your touch, pressing his nose against your skin, his breath getting more and more rugged with each movement of your hand.

“How do you want me?” you asked, putting a bit more pressure in your hand and eliciting a breathless groan from Sihtric.

“I … I want to see you,” he whispered and another moan escaped his parted lips, as you continued your ministrations, and he eagerly bucked his hips into your hand.

“I want to look into your eyes and see you falling apart on my cock,” he murmured in your ear, his voice hoarse and breathing uneven, as he struggled to control himself. “Will you let me? Please, say that you want me. Say that you want me to pleasure you.”

“Of course I want you, silly boy. You are almost too good to be true. Come, take me, pleasure me, I’m yours,” you breathed in his ear, guiding him at your entrance.

“I want to be good. I want to be a good boy for you,” Sihtric breathed against your lips.

You eagerly rolled your hips into his. ”I just want your cock inside me, good boy,” you chuckled.

You both moaned in unison as Sithric slowly pushed himself inside you until the very end of his shaft, his thick and long cock filling and stretching you perfectly. You spread your legs wider to welcome him. Buried deep inside you, he stilled, letting his lips run along your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy open mouthed kisses, burning on your skin and leaving you yearning for more, as he waited for you to adjust to him.

His large palm ghosted your skin on your side, trailing down to your thigh, as he pushed your leg up and dragged his cock out of you before making his first thrust. Moaning breathlessly, you arched your back against the soft furs beneath you, digging your nails into Sihtric’s shoulders.

His hips started to move against yours as he fucked you so torturously slowly but thoroughly, pushing himself deep inside you. Holding on to his broad shoulders, you met each thrust moving up against him, tensing your inner muscles and savouring every inch of him brushing against your pulsing walls.

Your fingers found their way back into Sihtric’s hair, and you pulled hard on them, a smile tugging on your lips from the delicious moan it elicited from Sihtric.

“Use me, mark me, I’m yours,” Sihtric groaned, pulling out of you and thrusting back in one smooth go. “Please, I want to be yours,” he begged, and you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red marks in his pale flesh.

“More, Sihtric,” a needy whine left your lips. “I need more of you.”

With a low groan, Sihtric fastened his pace, hips pounding against yours. You gazed up at him, a strange feeling curling in your stomach. You felt safe. You felt loved and adored, and so wanted like never before in your whole life.

You were in his power, pinned down beneath his muscular body as he fucked you into the soft furs of your bed, his soft whimpers like a music to your ears, as he begged you to pull harder on his hair, to use him, to mark him, to allow him to please you. You savoured the pretty and desperate sounds he made in your ear, finding them both beautiful and so arousing, your climax approaching with each snap of his hips against yours.

“Do you enjoy me?” Sihtric uttered quietly in your ear, his voice quivering slightly.

“Yes, by the gods, I do,” you muttered, your eyes starting to roll back in your head, feeling the pleasure intensify within you. Sihtric let out a low growl at your words, his breath catching.

“Please, say it again,” he pleaded.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised him. “You feel godly within me. Even Thor itself couldn’t bring me more pleasure.” Sihtric whimpered in response and you felt his cock twitching inside you.

His moans grew louder and more fevered, his thrusts getting harder and deeper, breath panting and hot against your neck. You felt almost like drowning, gasping for breath from the intensity of pleasure building up within you.

“Such a good boy for me,” you murmured, gripping his hair tightly and eliciting another moan from him. Sihtric’s thrusts started to get sloppy, his moans more heavy with each thrust.

“I’m so close,” he whimpered, his body tensing, “I will not last much longer.”

You took his hand and guided it to your perl. “You know what to do,” you breathed and Sihtric’s fingers instantly started to rub and circle it. That was all you needed, the last touch to push you over the edge. You felt your walls starting to clench around him, your head snapped back and you came with Sihtric’s name on your lips, shuddering from the waves of pure bliss washing over you.

A few thrusts later Sihtric pulled out, and you felt his hot seed painting your belly as he groaned in the crook of your neck. He slumped down beside you, his breath heavy and laboured. For a moment you both just lay there, coming down from your highs.

You turned your head toward him, watching his handsome features. You had never had a more gentle and attentive lover, so concentrated on your pleasure instead of chasing his own. You wanted to pull him closer, to let him feel the same. You wanted him to feel loved and accepted, and cared for just as he had made you feel, but before you managed to do anything Sihtric abruptly jumped to his feet, glancing around the tent. Grabbing a cloth and dampening it with warm water from the kettle, he returned to the bed and carefully cleaned you up.

You watched, your eyes widening, as Sihtric scrambled to gather his scattered clothes from the ground and began to hurriedly dress. He fumbled with his breeches, hopping on one leg in an awkward dance.

"Sihtric, what are you doing?" you asked, a lump forming in your throat. The bliss of moments before now replaced by a wave of embarrassment and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You tried to catch his eye, but he kept his gaze firmly on his clothes, avoiding yours.

"You don’t have to say it. I know. I’m leaving," he stammered, clumsily trying to pull on his boots while clutching his wrinkled clothes.

"Sihtric, look at me," you insisted, sitting up on your heels to face him better.

Finally meeting your gaze, confusion was written all over Sihtric's face.

"So, you just wanted to hump me and now you're leaving just like that, without a word? Like a coward?" you asked, your voice tinged with hurt and disbelief. You didn’t even remember the last time you had cried, the wetness suddenly pearling in the corners of your eyes taking you by surprise.

"What? No, it's not like that," he replied, clearly taken aback. "You mean you want me to stay?" His voice was filled with astonishment, leaving you momentarily speechless.

A tense silence hung between you, both of you regarding each other with bewilderment. Sihtric let his clothes fall to the ground as he approached and slowly crawled back onto the bed towards you.

Noticing the tears starting to form in your eyes, his expression softened. "You really want me to stay?" he asked gently, cupping your face in his hands before pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Please don't cry. I'm not worth a single tear of yours," Sihtric whispered, his fingers gently caressing your back and threading through your hair. "I would do anything for you. Just say the word, and I'll move mountains. I… I didn't dare to hope... I mean look at you. And look at me—I'm nobody. Why would you want me to stay?"

"Sihtric, just be quiet," you murmured, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

The next morning, you awoke still nestled in Sihtric's arms. As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tent, he stirred, slowly opening his eyes. Seeing you next to him, a soft smile spread across his face.

"You're still here, it wasn’t a dream," he murmured, his voice filled with relief and a hint of hope.

"Yes, I'm still here," you replied, your voice gentle yet firm, as you traced a finger tenderly along his jawline, "And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

You moved closer, trapping him between your thighs and propping yourself up on your elbow. Leaning in, you kissed his lips softly.

A rush of emotion crossed Sihtric's face as he pulled you closer, and you gasped, feeling his hardening cock pressing against your inner thigh.

"I would do anything to hold you in my arms forever," he confessed, his eyes locking with yours, filled with sincerity and a deep longing.

"I think I know how you can convince me," you said softly with a tender smile, and you kissed him again, deeply and passionately, cradling his face in your palm.

Sihtric's smile grew even brighter as he tightened his arms around you, flipping you over and pressing you into the furs with the weight of his body.

“Tell me, my lady,” he hummed, his lips trailing a hot path down your neck. “I'm all ears, how can I please you today?”

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starry-eyes-love · 3 months

Text

Lord of the Manor

Main Masterlist Joel Miller Masterlist

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader- AU, no outbreak

Summary | Joel Miller is Lord of the Manor, and you are the woman who has been helping him for years in raising his two daughters. Joel, holding a matchmaking party, decides to dance with every maiden in the room, everyone but you. After seeing him do this, you are exhausted and jealous, so you leave the party early. Joel notices your absence and follows you down the dimly lit hallway, where you confess your feelings for him. It ends with him telling you he wants you in his bed.

Word Count: 4.2 K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut

Language, M! (Handjob)- you walk in as Joel is pleasuring himself, kissing, sexual tension, slow burn, references to customs in society with Lord of the Manor, the lady (you) is common folk, a slight sprinkle of angst throughout (but it ends with a happy ending), kiss and reference to sex.

A/N: This started as a drabble, and then this happened. It got away from me, but that's ok. I’m thinking about continuing their story, but I can't decide. In the meantime, Enjoy!

Images by CAImages Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel slowly backed you up against the wall, caging you against his body as his hands slowly roamed over your curves. He moved down your neck, softly kissing and nipping your sensitive flesh, enticing moans from your mouth. “Shhh, you got to be quiet, baby. I don't want anyone else to hear you. Those moans are just for me.”

You hated parties ever since you were a little girl. Women always took hours dressing, fussing over whether a proper suitor would ask them for their hand at a dance. Meanwhile, on the dance night, men would stand and ogle over women as if they were prized cattle for auction. You had convinced yourself for the longest time that attending these parties would be a mistake, especially since you were never the one chosen for a dance. Yet here you were, fussing over your hair and makeup because Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, extended you an invitation.

You weren’t like all the other maidens at the party, coming from rich fathers, lords that ruled over the lands. You were a common folk woman, taken in by your father’s friend to be raised in a proper household after your parents died. Your foster father felt guilty just abandoning you when you were young when his best friend died of a horrible fever that swept through your village and created a lot of orphans. But that was what you were: an orphan, someone without living parents, and someone none of these men thought suitable as a wife or even for a simple dance.

You thought that maybe things would be different with Joel Miller, especially since recent events, but as the night went on, you started to feel your hope dwindling. Like every other dance you attended, you found yourself stuck on the side of the dance floor. No man approached you or requested a dance from you all night, especially Joel.

Joel Miller was an eligible bachelor and a man of many talents. He was older and a widower, his wife dying young while she gave birth to twins, both daughters, Ellie and Sara. Joel, raising his girls on his own, had stepped away from the duties of the Kingdom to choose an ordinary life as a farmer for a while. But two years ago, when his father became ill, he was called back to the kingdom to perform his duties as the only living heir to his father’s kingdom.

Joel wasn’t like the other men here; he was older, a man in his later 30s, strong and capable. Word had it that when he took a woman to bed, he focused on her pleasure instead of his own, something that was unheard of, especially in this day and age. He treated women as equals and couldn’t stand when anyone did anything less. Most days, he was seen in the courtyard with his daughters, with light and playful banter going back and forth between them. He cared, and everyone knew it. He also hasn’t picked a suitable wife, which many had frowned on with him. But how can you force love?

You had gotten to know Joel over the last several years, being the woman who helped raise his daughters when duty called him back to his kingdom. You were always pleased to speak with him, and he always treated you with mutual respect and dignity, often unheard of in these parts of the world. Over the past six months, Joel teased you, joked with you, and even looked at you like only a husband would look at his wife.

At first, you were shocked to see Joel looking at you with stern eyes, drinking you in like you were his favorite meal. But when you accidentally walked into his bedroom, returning laundry, and found him sitting on his bed, stroking himself to obtain pleasure, you discovered that you were no longer the only one who was nervous.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Lord Miller. I didn’t know you were here,” you had said, shocked at the sight before you. Joel was sitting at the edge of his bed, thrusting up into his hand, trying to pleasure himself in the most personal way. His cock was thick and large, swollen with veins that ran down the underside of it. His balls were plump and hung heavy below him, desperately needing to be drained. The sexual tension was thick in the air, especially when you glanced down and found Joel throbbing in his hand, probably seconds away from relief before you walked in.

Earlier, Joel was with you in the garden, and you teased him about his love for roses even though you knew he had planted them for you. The light banter was fun back and forth, with somewhat of a charged sexual energy in the air. You had suddenly injured yourself, cutting yourself on the thorns as you pulled weeds from the ground. Joel stepped up immediately and took your hand to examine the injury. When he determined that you were alright, he kissed your hand sweetly and told you to be more careful. As Joel left, you noticed him re-adjusting himself in the front and disappearing in the Manor. That was 15 minutes ago, and now you were face to face with a man who was moments away from his pleasure release.

As you stood there, you stared at Joel as he panted, holding himself on the brink of release. You didn’t know what you should do or how you should behave. It was obvious that you were the cause of some of his pent-up frustration. You wanted to put your mouth on it and feel it swell against your tongue, but such behavior was not deemed worthy by someone like you. But yet here you stood, looking at Joel panting, unable to look away.

Joel flared his nostrils, breathing deep as he twitched in his hand. It had been a long time since he had properly bedded a woman, and right now, he desperately wanted to fuck your cunt. You were the cause of this moment. You had been teasing him all morning, and then you got hurt, and he helped you. He barely could contain himself before he got in his room and ripped off his pants to start thrusting in his hand. Joel has wanted you for quite some time but has never voiced it. But now, you were standing there looking at him with wide eyes, pupils dilated slightly from your arousal. Joel knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the statement when he heard you apologize again for what you saw.

“Joel, I-”

“Baby, don’t apologize, please. Now, either get over here or shut the damn door when you leave.” Joel didn’t mean to snap, but he was right on the edge, borderline of it being painful. Joel had already edged himself a few times and desperately needed to come. When Joel saw you momentarily hesitate, he stood up and approached you. Feeling embarrassed, you immediately retreated and left, gently shutting the door behind you. As soon as Joel touched himself again, he was coming all over his hand at the memory of you standing there looking at him with wide, lust-filled eyes. That night, you made yourself come three times on your fingers alone, just at the thought of Joel’s cock inside of you.

It had been a week since you walked in on Joel in his bedroom. At first, you tried to avoid Joel, but eventually, you couldn’t, especially when he requested you to bring him his supper in his room as he worked.

“Please forgive me, my lady, for the other day. I don’t know what came over me,” Joel had said, apologizing for his behavior as he glanced at the kingdom maps on his desk in his room.

“It’s okay, Joel, I don’t mind,” was all you could respond. How can you tell him you’ve never come as hard as you did from seeing him? Within the week, everything was back to normal between you.

Another week passed before Joel announced that he would host another dance again. Joel didn’t ask you to work the event this time; instead, he asked you to attend as one of his guests. You had agreed, hopeful that maybe this time he’d be the one to ask you for a dance.

So, like all those times before, you had spent all day getting ready. You had several lovely dresses in your wardrobe to choose from, all gifts from your foster parents.

While growing up, you were required to attend dances as a guest, hoping that a suitor would eventually ask you to dance one day. But as the years ticked by, more and more men stopped looking your way at these dances. The biggest reason was because everyone knew you were adopted and were not of pure royal blood. Ordinary women, or common folk, were never allowed to marry those with money. You knew Joel didn’t take societal customs seriously, so you were hopeful that tonight would be the night he’d ask for your hand at a dance.

But as the night went on, it appeared your dream wouldn’t come true. You watched Joel dance with every other woman except for you. To his defense, he never once walked up and asked for anyone's hand at a dance. All the women introduced to Joel were from the maiden’s brothers or fathers, hoping Joel would settle down and wed one of them. Being a true gentleman, Joel never argued with the men, and he always smiled at the women while extending his hand for just one dance. But he never danced with you or even glanced at you once tonight. You were invincible to everyone, including the man you secretly had a crush on.

You assumed you could just leave after seeing Joel escort another woman to the dance floor for another song. You slowly backed away, finally turning to go after a few steps. When you got to the hallway to head back to the sleeping quarters, you paused and hoped you'd find someone standing there asking you if you could have a dance. But when no one turned to look at you, you knew that tonight was a mistake. No one wants to dance with a commoner like me.

And that was what you were, a commoner, a woman men weren’t interested in because you had no royal blood. It didn’t matter that your foster parents were of royal blood. You were still just ordinary folk. And ordinary folk do not get to dance with the Lord of the Manor, no matter who that person is.

As you walked down the dimly lit hallway, the soft murmur of the party downstairs slowly faded away into silence as the heaviness of your heart took root within you. You were dealing with a turmoil of emotions. Your heart ached with exhaustion and jealousy of the events from this evening and how everyone else appeared to have a good time.

You wished you could have danced by yourself, but laws and customs forbid a woman to dance without a proper escort from a man. A woman also cannot go up to a man to ask for a dance, or else you would have asked Joel. The only people who could request a man to dance were other men extending the hand of their daughter or sister, and you didn't have anyone like that around for you anymore. You, indeed, were all alone in this world.

You were about halfway down the hallway when you stopped to lean against the cool wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The air was heavy this time of year with the scent of roses from the garden. Usually, the smell would calm you and remove any heartache you'd have. But not tonight. It felt almost suffocating tonight as it reminded you of what you couldn’t have, Joel.

When Joel heard that roses were your favorite flower, he ordered his gardener to plant different colors and species around the entire manor. Usually, the gardens would wipe away your tears when you felt lonely, but tonight, they were the cause of your heartache and tears, and because of this, you silently wept. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear his approach.

“Are you well, my lady?” Joel said softly, approaching you slowly in the dimly lit hallway. Your head was in your hands, and your eyes were wet from your tears. When you lifted your head to look at Joel, he took in your face and immediately felt concerned for your appearance.

"Why are you crying, my lady? Did someone hurt you?" Joel asked, his voice gentle yet firm. He wanted to know who had upset you, and if he found out that another man had placed his hands wrongly on you, Joel knew he would end that man’s life himself.

You lifted your head higher to face Joel. Your emotions won over to reason in answering him appropriately. "Do you need to ask, do you not know?" Your voice trembled, frustration spilling out before you could stop it.

"I’ve watched you all night, Joel. You were smiling, laughing, and entertaining every suitable maiden who batted an eyelash at you. Do I need to remind you of our customs and what a Lord must do, especially when choosing a bride?”

“I did my duty as Lord of this Manor. I danced with every woman attending tonight.” Joel spoke, confused as to why you would ask him your question.

“Really? Do you honestly enjoy treating me like this?”

Joel’s eyes widened, surprise mixed with his frustration flashing across his face. “What in the hell are you talking about?"

"All night, Joel. All night, I’ve been a silent spectator to your affections. Do you even care?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do I care? What the- I’ve danced with every available maiden tonight from God's know where. I’ve done my duty. Who gives you the right to criticize me for my actions when I’ve done nothing wrong, especially when I am Lord of this Manor.”

"But you did!" you interrupt, frustration boiling over. "I was standing there all night.”

“Tell me, woman, to whom did I neglect my duties? Tell me. I’ve danced with every woman in that hall, every woman who is worthy of a man like me, Lord of the Manor.” Joel shouts at you, not understanding why he is entertaining this argument.

Joel Miller was always someone who spoke with reason and with knowing the purpose of the discussion. But right now, Joel had no idea of the purpose of your anger or frustration nor where this argument stemmed from. Somehow, this argument felt very personal, even though it shouldn’t have. Joel was the Lord of the Manor, and he demanded respect. It puzzled him why he seemed to tolerate this disrespectful behavior from someone who wasn’t even his wife. A woman should never raise her voice to a man. The only time she could, if she could, would be when she was talking to her children or husband, and you were neither of those.

“And what am I, Joel, huh? What am I?”

“You’re a woman,” Joel shouted and then froze, finally realizing his mistake. He danced with every woman attending that was available, everyone but you. You weren’t there tonight as a working woman. You wore a beautiful dress with your hair pinned up properly instead of down off your shoulders, and your makeup was neat and stunningly beautiful. You weren’t wearing your working ensemble, meaning you were a guest at his party. A guest that he gave a formal invitation to, no less than three weeks prior.

“Do you even know how I feel about you? Do you even see me?” Your voice was trembling with the weight of your confession. "I've felt it for so long, me and you, wanting you to properly see me as the one you could be happy with, a wife. Do you even know how much I love you?"

Silence stretched between you both, lacing the air thick and heavy with it. For a moment, admitting your feelings for Joel felt freeing. But as the silence continued, your heart immediately sank. You realized that maybe Joel didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

When you glanced up at Joel to look at his face, you noticed that he had a stone-cold look in his eyes. Joel wasn’t saying anything, nostrils flaring, as he ran a hand over his face while taking a step back and exhaling. When he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head while glancing at the floor, you felt embarrassed at what you had just done. Even though Joel was friendly to you in private, constantly teasing and flirting with you, you were still the help and common folk. And that was something that no man could ever see past.

You momentarily reached for Joel to comfort him, but as you did, you saw that he had taken a step backward, away from you. Your hand froze in mid-air, and you quickly placed it at your side. As the silence continued, you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Please forgive me, my Lord. I don’t know what came over me tonight for speaking in such a raised voice.”

“And for voicing such inappropriate things to the Lord of the Manor,” Joel said, still not looking up at you.

“Of course, my Lord. Please forgive my words-”

“And your mouth,” Joel mumbled under his breath yet again.

“Yes, of course, my Lord. Please forgive my words and my mouth for speaking out of turn. I don’t know what came over me.”

Then, Joel looked at you and said in a commanding voice, “Make sure you never speak to me like that ever again. I am the Lord of the Manor, and you better remember that before you stand there in my house and accuse me of things you have no right to say. To disrespect me when I’ve never once disrespected you.”

Joel went to step towards you, anger seething in his mind, but as he did, he saw you flinch and take a step back. You were shaking, closing your eyes while saying quickly, “My apologies, my Lord, it won’t happen again. Please, no lesson is required for me to remember this. I’ll- I won’t open my mouth again, please.”

Joel froze mid-stride. What were you talking about? Slowly, Joel touched your chin, tilting it toward his face, giving you the soft but firm command to open your eyes and look at him. When your eyes finally met his eyes, he saw your fear of being struck by a man. That was something that Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, never did. Who has hit this woman for just opening her mouth?

Joel has never once laid a hand on any woman who has worked for him, been related to him, or been in his bed. It truly upset Joel that you have not received the same respect in return. That someone has delivered punishment and force when dealing with you. Joel became angry at thinking someone would strike such a beautiful soul.

As Joel studied you, you felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It was one thing for him to glance at you and another to study you so intently, as you wore your emotions on your sleeve. You glanced down at the floor, submitting to the man before you. Whatever his choice of punishment was going to be, you knew better than to look him straight in the eye.

“Baby, please, look at me,” Joel whispered, gently cupping your cheek. When you finally glanced back at him, he softly smiled at you.

“Darlin’, no lesson is required, and for the record, I will never hit you. I- fuck,” Joel whispered, running his thumb over your cheek gently. You were looking at him with such gentle, soft eyes. You wanted him to close the distance and to kiss you, to see you in front of him as the choice of a life and not just someone of hire.

"Is what you said earlier true? That you love me, baby.” Joel spoke with a soft but steady voice.

"Yes," you whispered, your throat feeling tight with emotion as another tear slid down your cheek.

It only took two seconds before Joel’s thumb swiped the tear away. He looked at you with such tenderness that it took your breath away. "I had no idea, baby," he murmured before his thumb brushed away another stray tear. "I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry."

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes at the tenderness he was showing you. "Joel, I—I’ve always seen you, and I'm sorry."

“Shhh, baby, it’s ok,” Joel whispered as he slowly leaned in, giving you ample time to pull away. But you didn't pull away. Instead, you tilted your head up, your heart pounding as Joel’s lips brushed yours in a tentative, gentle kiss. It was a kiss of unspoken emotions, long-suppressed desires, and a future that suddenly seemed possible.

When Joel finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours. "I love you too," Joel said softly, his voice filled with hunger and desire. It was in that moment of his confession that you relaxed. When Joel’s lips met yours again, he gave you a hungry kiss. Joel licked into your mouth, tilting your head back as he finally claimed your lips the way he did the last time he kissed his wife. Joel had made up his mind; you were the woman for him. He didn't know how it would work with societal customs, but that was not his concern tonight. Tonight, he wanted you in his bed, underneath his body, as he made love to you.

Joel's kisses were full of lust and passion, full of emotion for denying you for so long. And you met him with equal hunger back, wrestling your tongue against his, telling him what you were feeling through actions.

“Shhh, you got to be quiet, baby. I don't want anyone else to hear you. Those moans are just for me.” Joel whispered as he slowly trailed his tongue up your throat, softly kissing and nipping your neck.

“Please, my Lord. I can't; it feels too good.” You mumbled as you let out another soft moan.

Joel growled at your admission, his cock impossibly hard against his pants. It's been a long time since he's had this much of a reaction to a woman who was fully clothed. He needed you underneath him, in his bed right now, but he was trying to be a gentleman.

Joel gave you a few more passionate kisses with his mouth, and when you whimpered against him again, he felt his resolve crumbling.

“My lady,” Joel whispered as he rested his forehead against yours, “you will be the death of me and my gentleman ways if we don't stop.”

Then, Joel took a step back, placing some distance between you both for a moment to clear his head. You straightened yourself, flattening the slightly rumpled dress.

“My apologies, my Lord, I-”

Joel raised his hand, silencing you from continuing. After another moment of silence, he took a long breath before continuing. “I am a man of honor, and I will not disgrace the honor of a woman in the hallway of my manor by engaging in inappropriate actions that only a man and a woman married should do. But, if I could be so bold as to say, my lady-”

Joel then slowly reapproached you, gently cupping your cheek as he gave you a tender kiss to your pulse point while whispering, “I want to fuck you in my bed later if you have me.”

As Joel slowly pulled back, he gave you a smirk. He noticed your cheeks were flushed a lovely rosy shade, which was both a combination of arousal and embarrassment at his bold statement. He also wondered if your cunt was dripping wet from the combination of his kisses, language, and the sheer presence of him being around you.

“But first, my lady, I would like to court you properly. I do not intend to shame your name based on mere animal instinct. But I do intend to bed you properly when the time comes if you'll have me.”

“Yes, my Lord, whatever pleases you,” you whispered, trying to get your heart rate under control again.

“You please me, my lady. Now come, let me escort you back to your bed chambers.”

Joel gave you a delicate kiss to your hand when he delivered you back to your bed chambers, telling you to dream of him. As you closed the door behind you, your heart raced in your chest; you couldn't believe the events that transpired for this evening.

Joel Miller was many things, both kind and gentle but also rough and forceful. You couldn't wait until the moment came when he'd take you in his bed properly. You also couldn't believe it, but you were falling harder for Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, more each day.

End Story

269 notes · View notes

siribaes · 8 months

Text

WHO’S BETTER THAN ME?

RIO x blackfem!reader (oc - Angel)

“After their breakup a decade ago, Rio reunites with high school sweetheart making up for lost time—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee, What You Want by Ma$e & Total, Throwback by Usher & Jadakiss, Thugman by Tweet & Missy Elliott, Only U by Ashanti

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, or*l (fem receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, slight possessive k*nk, Rio being a bedroom bully lol, some light use of Spanish, makeup s*x, cursing, etc. (UNEDITED/ NOT PROOF READ) / GIF CREDIT: @blackisblackisblack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full-blown fic, but anyway LOL. so i did a lil AU for rio, essentially he pulled a griselda blanco moved operations to Long Beach (Rio is so west coast coded to me) but yeah, the backstory of these two is that they were childhood friends turned high school sweethearts (class of 2005 in my AU lore of these two, hints at the music choices, etc.) before they went separate ways yada yada, the oc’s face claim is danielle brooks 💖 as always enjoy y'all

Makeup sex shouldn’t be this good. Like this was too good, like ultimate dream-fantasy level type of makeup sex. It felt unreal, except this was very real. Very, very, real.

Angel never imagined that her night would've ended up like this, in the arms of her high school sweet-heart, or rather sitting on top of a very expensive, entry way console, as her high school-sweetheart-turned-ex, used his nimble hands to fondle at her luscious curves, and pillowy-soft lips to suck on the sensitive part of her neck. From how hard Rio sucked and kissed on her neck it was surely going to leave a hickey, which might've been on purpose on Rio's part.

Since they were young, Rio always had a slight possessiveness towards Angel, nothing that was too domineering or chauvinistic, but still a possessiveness that was rooted in a love and a true appreciation of her. This of course was expressed in a way that only a sixteen-year-old Rio could, buying Angel's favorite snacks for school, littering her neck with hickeys during make-out sessions, and even saving what little he had to buy a gold necklace with an angel shaped pendant. It was the subtle ways Rio showed how he felt. That in addition to the verbal ways, in true young-Rio, braggadocious fashion. Even then Angel knew, deep, deep, down, that there would be no one who could measure up, or as Rio so accurately foretold the night of their break-up, "Who else is like me, hm? Who's better than me?"

Angel of course buried that fact deep into her subconscious, well, not deep enough, because in each of her relationships since, it managed to rear its ugly head every single time. Most recently, with her ex-fiancé, Nathan. Nathan was great at first, good conversation, amazing dates, lavish gifts, he treated her like princess. But slowly, over time, Nathan stopped trying, it especially became bad after their engagement. They rarely talked, unless it was about work, or wedding plans, he neglected her, especially in the bedroom. Angel soon realized that despite Nathan's neglectfulness, she made no effort to confront him about it. She didn't care, not a single bit. In the end, Angel had to accept that her heart belonged to someone else. That Rio was the only man for her.

Which brings her too tonight, Angel's high school class's reunion. It was a big one, celebrating 20 years, and Angel thought it would be the perfect remedy to cheer her up. She could let loose, reunite with some old classmates, and celebrate with her friends she's had since then. Something that could put her mind at ease, pull her focus away from the abysmal ending to her engagement.

She was having a good time, truly, cutting up on the dance floor to a killer set of music from 04' and 05', with her besties, Clarissa, Benny, Keke, and Dre. Angel was having the time of her life, dancing to Lose My Breath by Destiny's Child, when her friends froze, their eyes all staring at the bar of the ballroom. Clarissa leaned and whispered.

"Rio's, here."

Angel's mind and heart went to full overdrive, as memories of their relationship flooded her mind. Apparently, while Angel and her friends were having the time of their lives, Rio showed up and instantly became the talk of the town. He had a few breezy conversations with old classmates, charming them of course, and when asked about what does for a living, he smoothly responded that he was an entrepreneur, that he's always been good with numbers. Which wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Of course, none of their classmates were aware of Rio's true dealings, only Angel and her close circle were privy to that info.

Despite the nerves that bubbled in her stomach, Angel, knew that she had to face Rio at some point. She marched over and sat at the bar next to him. After some awkward pretense, more on Angel's part than Rio's, and shot of whiskey later, they talked. The conversation flowed and soon before they knew, it was like old times. They caught up and laughed about old memories. More and more Angel felt her heart swell in her chest, her latent feelings for Rio were bubbling to surface. But Rio surprised her, after sharing a couple dances to slow jams, a proposition slipped freely from his lips.

"Come home with me?"

From a safe distance, her friends watched the exchange, seeing the chemistry they still had after all this time, and despite some reservations, they encouraged to follow her heart, or as Keke put it, her pussy. When they were parting ways, Clarissa hugged her tight and encouraged her, whispering in her ear, "Just go with him, girl. Have some fun, we both now you deserve it after the shit you've been through."

So, here she was, whimpering and writhing underneath Rio's touch, while simultaneously admiring the backyard view. An ink-colored sky served as a gorgeous back drop, for the glowy lit infinity pool, in the distance was twinkling lights from buildings near the coastal beach. It was truly a sight to see. Angel snapped back to reality when she felt a firm hand, cradle her chin.

"Where'd you go?" Rio asked. His Coca-Cola colored eyes stared back at her. His head tipped to side, long eye lashes fluttering against the tops of cheeks as he blinked.

His gaze was heavy was lust, completely unrelenting. Its intensity caused Angel to squirm in her seated position. A warmth bloomed underneath her skin as she rubbed at the part of her neck Rio just was. It was still wet from his kisses.

"N-nowhere, baby," Angel stammered.

Slowly, Rio lips curled into a half smile.

"Good," Rio nodded his head as his gaze traveled down to Angel's chest, zeroing in on the exposed skin the peeked through her top, "now take this shit off. I wanna see them titties, Nena."

Completely under his spell, Angel quickly took of her top, leaving her in a lacy, cerulean colored bra, her mini skirt, and a pair of thoroughly soaked panties. Immediately Rio, hand's palmed at Angel's breasts, rubbing and squeezing them. A soft moan escaped her lips, as Rio's lips latched onto one of nipples.

"Yes, baby," Angel sighed, her hands cradled Rio's head close to her. His tongue alternated between soft flicks and harsh sucks at her left nipple. He released her nipple with a pop and went to the right nipple, repeating the same thing, "Fuck, baby, just like that. Shit!"

Angel could feel the wetness pool inside of her panties, as her clit began to throb. She needed Rio, real bad.

"Damn," Rio breathed out. He pulled away from Angel's chest, while his large hands rubbed at her ample thighs. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he admired his handywork. Angel's boobs glistened with sweat, as her hardened nipples stood at full attention, with spit dripping from them, "I missed them titties, girl. Fuck, I need to that pussy too. Lift up for me."

Angel obliged. Rio supported her with one hand, while with the other, slipping off her mini skirt and panties. He tossed the skirt to the floor, while he pocketed her panties. A storm swirled in his eyes, a thick haze of lust, as he admired Angel's, wet, glistening, pussy.

"I dunno if I can wait, mama," Rio rasped. He brought a finger to Angel's core, swiping at her wetness, and brought it back to his lips, sucking on it, "You taste good, mama. All this shit for me?"

Angel nodded. "Yes, it's all for you baby,"

Wordlessly, Rio plunged his fingers inside of Angel, who let out a yelp in response. He quickly fell back into old habits, fucking Angel with his fingers, just the way she liked it.

"Yeaaahhh, just like that," Rio rasped, he bent down and licked at her lips, "Be a good girl and fuck my fingers back," Angel whined loudly, following his instructions, lifting her hips slight and fucked his thick, fingers.

"Fuck! I'm close baby!"

"I gotchu, mama. Fuck, I feel you on my fingers. You gonna let me take care of you, huh? I'll give you anything you want mama, fuck, you being so good for me. Cum for me, darlin',"

And she did. Angel's eyes squeezed shut as she gushed over his fingers. A string of curses and pleases slipped from Angel's lips as Rio continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She could feel the cum slipping down her thighs.

"Mi alma, you look so good cummin' for me," Rio praised her. He captured her lips and kissed her sweetly. His tongue swirled around in her mouth as mimicking the move with his fingers. Angel pulled away from him, mewling.

"Riooooo, fuck, slow down baby,"

Rio landed a firm smack on Angel's ass. He cradled Angel's chin bringing her eyes towards him. His eyes hardened a bit, still holding its lustful haze, now a bit possessiveness broke through. Rio crooked his fingers, slowing down his pace just a tad, but driving into Angel's pussy much harsher and deeper.

"Fuck, I say about that shit," He growled.

"Shit! Baby, I-I'm s-sorry," Angel whimpered. Her mind flickered back to them making out in the car, he only to wanted to her his name, his real one, "Christopher, 's too much,"

A look of pure satisfaction bloomed across Rio's face. Got her.

"Just one more, mama. Be a good girl for me," Rio sunk down to knees, he slowly placed small kisses at Angel's inner thighs. He worshiped the plushness of her thighs, while Angel writhed and whined. He inched closer, spreading Angel's thighs further apart. He admired how she dripped around his fingers. "Fuck, mama I want you to cum on my tongue, 'k?"

Rio kept his eyes on Angel as he licked at her entrance, swirling his tongue around his fingers, continuing on until he reached her clit. Rio pressed a soft kiss to Angel's clit.

"Christopher!" Angel shouted.

Rio worked in tandem, his long fingers plunged in and out of Angel's, while his tongue swirled around her clit, flicking at the sensitive bud. Angel's hands rubbed at the soft hair of Rio's buzzcut, while the familiar thrumming of her orgasm quickly approached.

"Christopher, fuck, I'm soooo close,"

Rio pulled back, "Say it again,"

"Christopher,”

“Again,”

“Christopher, Christopher, Christopherrrrr, keep fuckin’ me, I’m so close,”

Rio grinned as he returned to her pussy. He latched onto her clit, sucking so harshly, Angel for sure believe that it was going to be bruised. His fingers fucked her even faster, as she clenched around them, as Rio French-kissed her pussy. He was completely relentless, wanting to see her cum, again, again, and again. With one last, harsh suck at her clit, Angel, exploded. She screamed in pleasure as she rode out her orgasm. Rio rose up, slowly pumping his fingers, before pulling out.

"Did so good for me," He mumbled against her cheek, holding her close as Angel rode out the aftershocks.

“I love you so much, baby,” Angel whispered in his ear.

Rio captured her lips again, kissing Angel. He licked at her mouth, allowing Angel to taste herself. Rio arms snaked around Angel's torso, and with ease, managed to throw her over his shoulder. Angel giggled and kicked her feet and Rio moved to the stairs.

"Baby! What are you doing?"

"It's time for the real show to start, Nena," Rio teased, he playfully smacked her ass, "You ready for me?"

"Always."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #good girls fanfiction #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction

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asvterias · 3 months

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𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 ~ 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘦

clarisse masterlist

warnings: none

pairings: clarisse la rue ✘ black!fem!demigod!reader (daughter of poseidon)

summary: clarisse accidentally confesses that she isn’t a good swimmer to her girlfriend and y/n offers to teach her.

word count: 1.9k+

tag list: @lvrue @kyuupidwrites @xanasaurusrex @urdeadpoet @aurorailvsm @quinnsadilla @st4rzl7 @p0rkbun @star-girl69 @aphroditesmoon @voidashh @lcvved @tinytea-biscut @dearlydarlings @rocknr0ll @nvirskies @k4zuhas-visi0n @urbisexualfriend @marlswhore @anominous-writer @lovelyy-moonlight @thegiganticgirlkisser @thewritingbarbie @apocalypticlibrary @solecitoszn @blackchubbyqueen @mira-belcul18 @sleighingstella @ampitrit3 @mthefae @drlover11037 @ratjoe @mag03 @kroumi @hoku-k @zhivaxo @lacytalks @kazerka @liv444me @korizzybee @mariposa555 @inejsknifes @cherriesnbutter @justintinderlake4 @natasha-took-fall-damage @lixtinystay @2k7-sparkles @importantpotato @laughingcheese037

author’s note: writing this drabble is kinda ironic considering i can’t even swim! sorry it took so long to publish this, writer’s block had me serious about this!

requested by an anonymous

being one of many and the youngest daughter of poseidon, the god of sea, had its perks.

from a young age, you were bonded with the ocean in unexplainable ways to your mom’s human mind. your mom refused to reveal your true identity, not because of possibly endangering you but simply wanting you to discover yourself.

you were taught the way of water, everything relating to aquatic life, different animals and plants, amazed by all types of species. studying, learning, and practicing the techniques of different wave currents and methods of using water to your advantage was your favorite way to bypass time.

unlike your girlfriend clarisse who was taught about being resilient, intimidating, and cold. she had no interest in studying or learning anything non-sports or non-fighting related. you could tell she wasn’t the best academically in school, but athletically…that girl was— woo, that’s another story for another time.

however when the two teen girls explore their friendship further, developing into a romantic relationship and a cute one at that. the two demigods shined a light on each other’s weaknesses, in hopes of better improvement and dimming their shared strengths, no longer making them stronger than necessary.

during one of your sneaking out espacades with your beloved girlfriend clarisse, you two met each other by the lake. whenever you couldn’t sleep properly, you’d find yourself stumbling towards this exact lake, finding your sense of comfort. clarisse caught on and soon joined you for this late-night lakeside reconciliation, so you wouldn’t be alone.

but then again, you never truly felt alone, not when the water was flowing beautifully underneath the magnetic moonlight and the breeze was cool.

this time was no different, sitting closely by each other, entrapped by each other’s presence with your toes buried in the sand.

staring ahead at the lake in complete silence, you loved the silence, especially at night. it gave you a clearer mind to reflect on and the ruffling waters were a hypnotic melody to your ears.

“i have a surprise for you,” you started, excitement laced in your tone.

“what is it?”

“it’s a gift that i spent all day working on,” you squealed.

“are we playing ‘guess the gift’ again?”

before you could reply to her question, a hermit crab crawling over caught your attention and you smiled. the tiny red hermit crab, despite its size and visibility under the moonlight, kept the bracelet crammed tightly in his front claw.

“did you command that hermit crab over here?”

“maybe…” you trailed off, grinning as you allowed the hermit crab to crawl in your hand. the sea animal dropped the baby blue decorated seashell bracelet in your hand.

“holy shit,” clarisse breathed out.

“you wanna say hi to hanna?” you eagerly asked, shoving the animal in your palm directly into clarisse’s face. she flinched at your sudden movements, skeptically staring at the pocket-sized defenseless creature.

“you named the hermit crab?” she raised an eyebrow.

“hanna,” you slowly enunciated, “her name is hanna the hermit crab,”

“my apologies,” she feigned bashfulness, now staring at the small sea creature, “hello, hanna the hermit crab,”

the hermit crab turned to you, blinking her small beady eyes at you once, and then faced clarisse again. her tiny legs felt ticklish against your palm every time she squirmed.

“it’s quite rude to not say anything back, hanna,” the la rue girl muses, “of course, you can’t reply back, you’re a damn animal.”

you scowled at her response, pinching her arm with your free hand.

“oh please, don’t tell me she can understand me now,”

“she can’t, but i can,”

hanna the hermit crab waved her giant front claw at clarisse and you giggled at the cute interaction.

“she said ‘hello back, strange human,’,”

“that’s it, i’m never speaking to another sea animal again,”

“yes, you are. that was your fifth time declaring that, nothing’s changing, we both know that,”

“well, i mean it this time,”

“sure, babe,” you hummed, certainly unconvinced by her declaration.

you kindly thanked the sea animal and placed it back on the sand, watching it scurry away. resting your head onto clarisse’s shoulder as you looped your arms together, feeling her curly hair shimmering down on your face.

“every day i’m more amazed by your abilities,” clarisse swoons, biting her lip, “the fact that you can talk to them or control them at your will. can you mind control every sea animal?”

“yes, i can, risse. me and percy haven’t tried to summon dolphins or sharks or orcas yet, but we’re willing to change that next time we visit an aquarium,”

“holy shit, my girlfriend’s a badass,”

“i guess i kinda am,” you blushed at the compliment.

clarisse accidentally admitted her main weakness, “did you know i can’t swim?” her eyes widened immediately after she spoke, not realizing her own words.

that statement heightened your curiosity, causing you to lift your head from her shoulder.

“are you serious, babe? you can’t swim, like at all?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow. she caught you by surprise with that random mention.

your beautiful masculine buff girlfriend can’t swim at all. with how the ares girl acts around camp, you thought she demolished every activity or sport this camp had to offer, but swimming blindsided her. out of all sports, swimming is recommended to be the most vital and effective sport, so it’d make sense to learn.

she gives you a death glare, shoving you a little harder than intended. “yeah i can’t swim, so what? don’t make it seem like a big deal.”

“it kinda is! what if we get into a war that requires us to swim?”

“then you’ll save me,” she shrugged her shoulders. “besides, that’s a very low possibility of us fighting in war requiring us to swim for our lives,”

“what if i’m not there to save you in time?” you rhetorically asked, placing your homemade seashell bracelet around her wrist.

she dangled the bracelet on her wrist, admiring it, smiling widely, “if you’re not there with me, then what reason do i have to be there?”

“c’mon i’ll teach you how to swim,” you suggested to your girlfriend, stretching your legs to stand. brushing off the sandy residue off your pants as you looked down at your girlfriend who kept her eyes trained on you. smiling sweetly in response, you offered a hand to her, looking down with a patient gaze.

“you’re gonna teach me to swim at night?” she was very skeptical, observing the familiar shadow of chiron and his upbeat huffs clicking against the ground. “i love you, angel, i really do, but i’ll take my chances,”

“would you rather it be during the day when everyone can see you?”

she pondered in thought, if other campers witnessed clarisse in a vulnerable state, her reputation might be at risk, and she didn’t want that. you had a strong point. she had a reputation to uphold. therefore, a decision was already made and clarisse wished she wouldn’t regret this.

“besides it’d be weird if you’re dating a daughter of poseidon and is unable to swim, water is exactly my expertise, it’ll be an absolute shame for you to miss out on,”

“yeah right, it’s your father’s forte,” she snorts.

“do you wanna know how to swim or not?!”

“no, not really,”

“well too bad, la rue, get your ass in the water now!” you demanded, narrowing your eyes and strictly pointing towards the lake.

“so demanding,” she playfully rolls her eyes.

“oh please, you love me more when i act like this,” you blow a kiss at her.

clarisse can complain all she wants but she definitely knows that she loves a woman in charge! especially her favorite girl, who goes by the name of y/n l/n, and no one else.

“let’s get this over with..” she grumbles, standing up to her feet, using your hands to pull her shirt over her head, and flinging it to the ground. you stared at her in adoration and shamelessly checked out her toned body.

“what, are you speechless all of a sudden?” she feigned innocence knowing your attraction to her body.

you stammer out a few words, letting the embarrassment overtake your features as clarisse chuckles at your sheepishness. as soon as the embarrassment washed over, you remove your pajama shirt, leaving you in your bra and pants.

the water splashes loudly because of the carelessly invading movements the two girls caused, disrupting the calm lake motion. not stopping until reaching a decent level, the water hitting slightly above your chest, immediately cooling you down.

“okay, just let go,” your hands travel to her waist, holding them gently, “feel yourself relax in the water and float.”

she heavily sighed, doing as carefully instructed and surprisingly managed it…for a good while.

“you must learn to stay afloat first, then i can teach you the basic swimming poses.”

“there’s different swimming poses?”

“no there isn’t,” you deadpanned.

despite her hard efforts, she couldn’t find the right mindset to relax.

“this isn’t working,” she groans, losing both her balance and patience, becoming instantly flustered by your soft touch, maintaining her weight.

“it takes time and practice.” you give a little nod, holding onto her back underneath the water, keeping her balanced.

“c’mon, you realize who you’re talking to, babe.”

“alright, let’s move on to another technique.” clarisse nods her head, agreeing with you.

to be honest, you’ve never taught anyone to swim nor were you taught yourself. as a result of your father’s heritage, swimming came naturally to you so there wasn’t anything to worry about.

teaching someone else to swim was considered to be quite a hassle, especially if that someone was impatient. but you wouldn’t want it any other way or with anyone else, you were doing splendidly with your favorite girl.

“do you wanna watch me float? maybe you’re a visual learner,”

“sure,” she shakes her head.

“my braids will certainly weigh me down after,” you rolled your eyes, “and i just got it done,” you complained, groaning throwing your head back.

“can’t you control the water mass in your hair?”

“oh, yeah, you’re right,”

once she stands up again, you start to float on the water, keeping your ears underneath the water and your face above the surface. you kept your legs closed and your arms spread out as clarisse shuffled closer. the water ruffles against your skin gently, silently rocking you with its movements.

turning your attention to your smiling girlfriend peering down at you, she bites her lip, admiring you.

“how are you so talented at everything?”

“just comes naturally to me,”

“it’s more than that, but you refuse to share your secret,” she commented.

“how about you learn how to float instead of flirting with me?”

“why though? i’d rather much prefer flirting with you,”

“and i’d rather much prefer you have survival skills in swimming,” you retorted, “flirting can’t save your ass,”

“it might with you,”

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue x black!reader #clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue drabble #daughter of poseidon

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torushawty · 1 year

Text

reblogs & interactions always appreciated !

all works are rightfully owned by kazushawty. song recs are for you to listen to while reading for extra immersion

| key: [ ★ ] = fan fav | 18+ | fem! reader unless otherwise |

| key: [🔞] = smut [💢] = angst [🌀] = sfw / fluff

@LONG FICS—!

SUMMARY: toji finds a new apartment finally after getting abruptly fired, despite someone already living there. yet that’s when he stumbled upon you, a pretty young ghost woman.

SONG REC: in the next life

@THIRSTS/ASKS —!

toji teasing reader about her oral fixation [🔞]

long distance bf! toji sending you nut videos [🔞]

toji comforting you after work [🌀]

toji d!ck description [🔞]

toji comforting you during a panic attack [🌀]

toji when it’s your birthday [🌀]

bratty or shy gf

virgin!reader x toji [🔞]

@DRABBLES —!

toji eating you from the back [🔞]

sucking toji off while he’s driving [🔞]

toji flexing his muscles then pounding you [🔞] — ★

stubborn/brat! reader who doesn’t want prep [🔞] — ★

prone bone with toji [🔞] — ★

toji eating you out and you ask him to spit on it [🔞]

toji‘s daughter waking him up to play [🌀]

mean!dom toji x shy reader w/ degrading k!nk [🔞] — ★

toji accidentally whines while you ride him [🔞] — ★

toji spanking your 🐱 until you squ!rt [🔞] — ★

brat reader riding toji’s thigh as punishment [🔞]

more whimpering toji [🔞] — ★

toji who’s obsessed w filling you up [🔞]

hate fucking toji [🔞]

0rgasm denial w toji [🔞]

toji doing push ups while you lie on his back [🔞] — ★

toji having you tied up for hours + overstim + toy [🔞]

reader calling toji small but he knows what’s real [🔞]

reader interrupting toji’s workouts [🔞] — ★

riding toji while he‘s watching tv [🔞] — ★

toji manhandling a 5’0 gf [🔞] — ★

feeling toji’s scar while he eats you out [🔞]

toji with a voice kink [🔞]

#— ( ★) toji fushiguro!#toji fushiguro smut

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angelbwrry · 1 month

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𝒥𝒰𝒥𝒰𝒯𝒮𝒰 𝒦𝒜𝐼𝒮𝐸𝒩 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯

choso k.

☙ camera shy! choso k. 519.

cw 𐙚 twitch streamer! choso, sex on camera, explicit language, cervix kissing , black reader, drabble . . . in which choso buries his cock inside of you on live . . . minors not welcome.

☙ birthday girl. choso k.

cw𐙚 drinking, unprotected sex, drunk sex, dirty talk. choso is a horny drunk . . . minors shoo!

nanami k.

☙ doe eyed gal. kento nanami. 6k.

cw ᯓᡣ𐭩 nsfw link, age-gal, oral, feet-fucking, squirting,creaming,hair pulling ,handcuffs, anal plug,vibrator, spanking, unprotected sex, umm reader is on the thicker side (yummy), black bimbo,dirty talk. omfg I think that’s all . . . i lied, older!nanami has a crush on his young college neighbor! he luvvvvs watching you through his upstairs window. ironically, he’s also a police officer. woop woop!

kitten. kento n. 1.5k

cw꣑ৎ nsfw link, black reader, self pleasure, sex toys, fingering, creaming, oral, dirty talk, hitting. or in which nanami catches you mid act . . . mdni

☙ while we’re young. kento n. 435.

cw ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ nsfw link, unprotected sex,tent sex, dirty-talk, creaming, ummm praise? just a drabble . . . minors go away

toji z.

☙ strawberry shortcake. toji z.

cw 𐙚 boxer! toji, oral, fingering, ass eating, unprotected sex, creaming, praise, cream-pie, masterbation. ummmm i think that’s all? oh yeah, you’re toji’s highschool sweetheart who hates his boxing career . . . minors shoo!

☙ let me in. toji zenin. 7k.

cw ᯓᡣ𐭩 nsfw links, choking, slapping, mouth-spitting[oops,not sorry] , unprotected sex, oral male + female , dirty talk, a little bit of ass eating, fingering, creaming, multiple orgasms, cream-pie, dirty talk ummmm i think that’s all! oh, toji is an emotionally unavailable boxer and you’re his project partner . . .

sukuna r.

☙ peeping tom. sukuna r.

cw𐙚 age-gap, dirty talk, self-pleasure . . . in which you peep in on your roommate! mdni

☙ how they react inside you and their favorite positions ft jjk men

cw𐙚 nasty so if you’re under 18, bye!

🫧 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐧𝟒𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

#𝐢𝐟𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐭 #jjk x black reader #jjk oneshot #jjk smut

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gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year

Text

M E A N D T H E D E V I L W A L K I N G S I D E B Y S I D E

Sukuna isn't the type of person to say "I love you." He's not the type of person to love. He was a demonic warlord, known for his cruelty and lack of empathy. What part of that screams "lover boy" to you?

baby, you're a haunted house

Society will tell you that playing with ouija boards is a bad idea. this fic begs to differ. a demonic Sukuna smut

close calls

Love is scary, Isn't it Reader? Sukuna thinks it is. but at least he's facing his fears for you. a soft Sukuna smut.

sacrilegious

Feeling holy? Maybe a little less than holy? Do you want to have your guts rearranged by a God in his own temple? yea, me too. a holy Sukuna smut.

unholy

Did you like the idea of the previous fic, but think you'd relate to it better if the reader was of the male variety? well, do I have news for you! A smutty Sukuna drabble

seven minuets in heaven

Maybe you're feeling something a bit more modern reader. Something more relatable? Like a college au where you lose your virginity to a frat boy named Ryomen. A modern day Smut

better off as lovers

Dating is hard and falling in love is harder. Ryomens love isn't up for debate, but if he's truly ready to give up his playboy life style for you is a little more questionable. Part two of Seven Minuets in Heaven. A smutty hurt/comfort fic

new mistakes

I would say being left at the altar was the worst thing that could have ever happened to you, but I think the revenge sex with Ryomen makes it all worth it, don't you agree Reader? A modern day revenge smut.

bad miracle

Gojo has always been an idiot, but he's really done it this time. He's kidnapped the wrong girl, and now, leader of The Syndicate Ryomen Sukuna has to figure out what to do with you.

A Mafia Au smut

heir to the throne

Sukuna never wanted to be a father. Why why hell would he want that? A sticky, stinky, ball of chaos that feels the need to destroy everything. Why would he want that? It's no surprise you hid your pregnancy from him for so long.

A Dadkuna fluffy fic

urban legends

You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? A TrueFrom!Sukuna smut.

change of plans

Funny how something as small as a grain of rice can cause such a shift so massive in so many lives. Deny all he wants, you're having a baby and now Ryomen has to comes to terms with being a young dad. Part of the Frat Boy AU Some introspective fluff

tiger hybrid! headcanons

We've all wondered what he would be like as a tiger hybrid, right? Right? some Smutty Headcanons

breaking up headcanons

While you would be entirely within your rights to leave Sukuna, what on earth made you think it would be that easy? some more smutty headcanons

feral nights

Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? An omegaverse Smut

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna masterlist

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azriels-shadowsinger · 1 year

Note

can i please request a drabble where rhys gets reader pregnant when they’re young, and his father finds out before him when the camp healer informs him of readers visit. He threatens reader and tells her that he’s about to become a high lord and doesn’t have time for distractions. he tells her that he’ll hurt rhys if she doesn’t leave, so she breaks up with him and runs away. When she hears the news of his fathers death their son is already 3-6 years old. she moves back to velaris bc she wants to stay close to him, she meets either cass or az when she’s shopping and they tell rhys who immedietly winnows over. He sees the kid with her and suspects… they finally talk it out, she shows him her memory of what his dad said, and get back together, the kid finally have a dad🤍 and she has her mate back🥹

this is such a good idea i love it!! also i did a daughter instead bc girl dad rhys is such a necessity

wc: 1.3 k

warnings: none

6 Years Ago

“You will not bear the future heir and you will not keep Rhysand from achieving his full potential as future high lord.” The high lord had cornered you outside as you were leaving a secret visit with Rhys, which was apparently not so secret. You didn’t speak, only nodded.

“If you don’t get rid of that baby and leave the night court, I will make sure there that Rhysand is not around to raise that child.” You had no idea how he found out about the pregnancy, but you also knew he was not one to make empty threats.

It would be hard, but you knew you could raise this baby on your own. The high lord never had to know you kept the child if you left. And neither did Rhys.

———

“I don’t understand why you have to leave. Please stay!” Rhys pleaded. It broke your heart to do this, but you could not risk his safety or the safety of you and Rhys’ baby.

Your baby. He can never know.

“I have to leave. I don’t want to be in Velaris anymore.” You lie. “I want to move home to the Winter Court.” Each word felt more painful than the last.

“We can visit there more often! I’ll go with you! Just please don’t go.” Tears are forming in his eyes, and you have to look away or else you will give in. You know what you have to say. The thought of it makes you sick, but it’s the only way he will never come looking for you.

“I don’t love you anymore Rhys. I’m sorry.” The look in his eyes when you said that will haunt you forever, but at least he will be safe.

———

Present Day

It had been years since that horrible day. His broken-hearted face still haunts your nightmares. Usually, you can go a few days without thinking about him, but your daughter, Nova, is getting to such an age where she asks a million questions. The most frequent being related to her father. You try to evade the questions as best you can, but it always results in you crying yourself to sleep and having nightmares of Rhys watching you say you don’t love him anymore.

Last night had been one of those nights and you were exhausted from the nightmares. You decided to stop in a local cafe for some coffee with your five-year-old next to you, sipping her juice. After several minutes of peacefulness, you overhear the barista talking with a member of Kallias’ court who had just entered.

“It was just a few months ago! I wasn’t sure if it was true, but once I saw Rhysand at the high lord’s meeting last month I knew it must be.” The man whispered not so quietly.

You froze.

“His father was such a brute. He gave the night court such a bad name. Hopefully, High Lord Rhysand will be a better leader for the Night Court.”

You drop the mug, spilling it all over yourself and the table. The barista rushes over to help you clean, but all you can do is stare at your daughter.

———

It took all of 24 hours for you to pack your and Nova’s belongings and find a horse to travel on. After weeks of travel, staying in old inns, and a constantly cranky five-year-old, you finally arrived in Velaris. You find a local inn and clean yourself and your daughter up. You knew that if you walked the streets of Velaris for long enough, he would hear that you were back.

But what if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he hates you for what you said? The anxiety starts to bubble inside you until you begin to second guess this entire plan.

“Mommy look! Cookies!” Nova is standing on her tiptoes and looking out the window of the inn at the bakery across the street. You shove the insecurities back inside yourself.

“Let’s go get you a cookie, honey.”

———

The two of you sit at the tiny table outside the bakery to enjoy your cookies. For a moment, you don’t feel as nervous. Until you feel someone watching you. You turn around and a familiar pair of wings are ducking into an alley. Well, you can’t back down now.

Not even 10 seconds later, you hear a commotion behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know that Rhys just winnowed to the street. You take a steadying breath and turn to meet his gaze, but the look you get in return breaks your heart all over again.

“Hello, Rhys.” You try to break the ice. His eyes dart from you to the dark-haired, purple-eyed girl sitting next to you. A talon is caressing your mental shields, and after years of keeping them up, you finally let him in.

“Is she mine?” He speaks into your mind, getting straight to the point. The familiar feeling of his voice in your head is enough to make the tears start falling

“Yes. I can explain everything. I’m so sorry, Rhys.” You hope he will let you explain. Three long strides and then he is next to you. He kneels in front of your daughter.

His daughter.

Nova looks up at him, eyes glazed over as he speaks to her in her head. He puts a gentle hand on her cheek and softly rubs his thumb across it. A few minutes pass as they have their silent conversation before Rhys finally speaks.

“Let’s talk at home.” He reaches out a hand for you to take. Home. You never thought you would return. You take his hand as Nova takes his other one, and instantly you are winnowed away.

The moment the three of you are alone, he falls to his knees and hugs you both, tears freely falling.

“Rhys, I can ex-“ He cuts you off.

“I don’t care. You’re back. Even if you don’t love me anymore, I will do anything you ask if you will let me be a part of her life.” He looks at you with the same heartbroken stare that has haunted you for years. You drop to your knees with him and take his face in your hands.

“I never stopped loving you. I had to leave to keep you safe. And to keep Nova safe.” You start to explain but his eyes light up at the name.

“Nova?” He whispers. You nod.

“Like the stars. Just like her dad.” The word dad sets him off again and he hugs tighter. “I can show you everything. I can explain it all. I want you to be in her life…. In our lives, if you want.”

Rhys pulls you both close and just whispers. “You’re home. Finally.”

———

6 Months Later

After the announcement of the new High Lady and new heir, Velaris celebrated for weeks. You finally got settled into your new home, and Rhys even decorated a room for Nova all by himself.

It took some time after your return for him to fully open up again. Some wounds take time to heal, and Rhys spent a while feeling upset that he missed so many of Nova’s milestones. Even now, he asks you to replay her first steps in your head for him to watch. But once he started getting to know Nova, she had him wrapped around her little finger.

The three of you are sitting cozy on the sofa while Rhys reads Nova to sleep. You never thought you would get to experience this. Nova dozes off in your arms and Rhys shuts the book. The smile he gives you warms even your darkest dreams.

“You kept her safe long enough for me to meet her. You did an impossibly difficult thing to keep us both safe. I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did.” He rests a gentle hand on her cheek.

That night, your dreams are filled with images of your future lives together. You, Rhys, and Nova together for centuries.

#rhysand #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar drabble #acotar blurb #acotar fluff #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #my writing

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seelie-buddy · 1 year

Text

Little One

summary : wanderer stumbles upon a surprise— a child, specifically. he does what he believes is right.

contains : an abandoned toddler ; the drabble is set to take place in the period after the 'inversion of genesis' interlude quest

word count : 1k

The bustle of Sumeru City once night fell was nothing more than a hassle for Wanderer. The calls of the merchants and the chatters of the common folk were too loud. The wilderness beyond the city, however, was welcoming. Unlike the outdoors in Inazuma, thunder and lightning didn't follow his every step, and the serenity in silence was all he could ask for after hours of buzzing akademiya scholars.

He didn't venture out too far, for going south towards Gandharva Vile would only mean to walk into the forest rangers area, and north were too many hilichurl camps ready to disturb his peace. And so, his chosen path was towards Vissudha Field; not too far, but far enough.

Wanderer kicked at a stone at his feet, watching as it rolled downhill before claiming its place under a tree. From here, he could see the city without having to hear the unwanted banter between customers and merchants over prices, or the boastful bluffs of prideful scholars. To be alone meant to be at peace… or at least that was his belief.

Peace, what a delicate thing it is. Even the most insignificant of actions from anyone was enough to shatter it. But that only meant that you must treasure it, be careful with this fragile feeling.

The silence of the forest quickly disappeared and the Wanderer turned his head at the sound of crying. A scowl made its way to his face, but betraying his expressions, Wanderer got up. Earlier, he didn't have a destination nor a motive in mind, but now he moved with intentions to find out the source of the sound.

Any child could have run off from home while playing, only to be terrified once the moon rose. Wanderer picked up his pace, sensing the crying to come from somewhere near. Whatever was so terrifying about the this part of the forest? Definitely not the green grass nor the Sumeru Roses.

But those questions quickly dissipated when he spotted a child, far too young to have ran off— let alone walk— away from home. And... hilichurls. A 'tsk' left his mouth faster than he could think, and upon nearing the scene, he saw that the hilichurls simply stared, occasionally speaking something in a language long forgotten to time. And much to the Wanderer's surprise, the hilichurls merely walked off at the sight of him. Were the hilichurls only checking on the child for a moment? Hmm... maybe monsters too have their humanity. But those fleeting thoughts weren't much pondered upon because—

"Mama!" The child, now no longer crying, stretched out its hands towards him, as if asking to be picked up. Wanderer had never snapped his head in such a manner before.

"Who are you calling— ugh..." he sighed, knowing his words were futile, for they made no sense to the babbling baby.

"Mama?" The child once more said, this time as if discerning that the one present wasn't its mother. Wander sighed once more, kneeling down in front of the child.

"You're all dirty," he whispered, making note of the fresh dirt upon the child's hands and clothes. It wasn't long before it was left here, at the mercy of the wilderness. Not the smartest idea if anyone were to ask him.

"Were you too abandoned by your mother?" He asked, not anticipating an answer— not that the child had the ability to say anything other than—

"Mama..."

In the full moon's light, Wanderer was able to make out the tears filling the child's eyes, and he sighed once more.

"Such delicate beings humans are," he muttered, plucking a sweet flower from the ground before waving it in front of the child. Much to his expectation, the child had quickly forgotten the idea of crying as it stretched its hands above its head.

"Mama!"

Wandered furrowed his brows. Did this child even know what 'mama' was? Or did it just keep repeating what it heard? He wouldn't know.

A huff left his lips as Wanderer watched in amusement as the child took the sweet flowers from his hand, one hand clenching onto the stem of the flower, and the other taking his finger. But as soon as the child was occupied with the flower, a set of questions floated into his mind.

What should he do with the child? He couldn't leave it out for wild animals to find. But he had no business babysitting a child he didn't know. So, what now?

"Hey!" Wanderer tsked, pushing the hand of the baby away from its mouth using not more than his forefinger. He knew he had power to take down more than just humans, so to be with a child, he was more careful and cautious than he would accept he was.

"Flowers are not for you to eat," he scolded. What was he even doing, talking to a baby? But, much to his surprise, the baby blinked at him, then threw the flower down. Not what he meant for it to do, but a good enough try.

"Do I take you— why would I take you with me?" He thought out loud, waving a finger in front of the baby, amusing it just enough to keep it occupied. Should it start crying, it might attract more than just a few hilichurls.

"The traveller is a goody two shoes, but if I remember right, they are to leave soon— far too busy with journeying Teyvat to look after you." Despite his initial reluctance, it took not long for Wanderer to reach a decision.

–

"Oh? Who is this little friend of yours?" Nahida turned around, hearing footsteps and the babbling of a baby.

"Someone," Wanderer answered half-heartedly before the child in his hands pulled at his hat, resulting in him making a sound alike the hissing of a cat.

"You didn't kidnap someone's child, did you?!" Came the yells of Paimon along with the traveller's stare, both astonished at the sight.

"If you're so smart, why don't you figure it out?"

A/n : I had this random thought: 'how would he behave with a child?' And that thought now resulted in this haha! I initially thought of Xiao in this scenario but ended up writing this first ( keep an eye out for the Xiao fic! )

Ps : I couldn't find of two pictures of wanderer with a similar colour scheme as my blog for making the headers... but i guess this works, kinda??? Oh and, if you liked this, then perhaps check out my Kazuha drabble!

#leaf : writes #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact platonic #genshin fluff #genshin platonic #wanderer #scaramouche #the balladeer #kabukimono #kunikuzushi #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #scarameow

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

Text

K’s Reading List — JUNE

Hey there! Thanks for stumbling upon this reading list! I figured that as a way to support the lovely writers within this fandom that I’d compile a reading list of all of the stories I read over each month.

June was a wonderful month filled with incredible stories. Below is the list of stories that I read. I hope you will find some that you like as well!

As always, please make sure you heed to the warnings on each fic!!

@fallatyourfeet

No Negotiations - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@darklydeliciousdesires

Improper - Young!Luca Changretta x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Storm - Tommy Shelby x Reader Drabble — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Arthur Shelby Drabble — contains slight 🔞 NSFW themes!

Untitled - Tommy Shelby x Reader

John Shelby Blurb

@zablife

Nothing Gold Can Stay - Tommy Shelby x Reader, Aberama Gold x Reader

Stolen Kiss - Tommy Shelby x Reader Drabble — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

John’s Return - John Shelby x Reader

@look-at-the-soul

A Night At Delux - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

@shelbywhiterose

Mio Amore - Tommy Shelby & Reader , Luca Changretta & Reader

@brummiereader

Uptown Girl - Tommy Shelby x Reader (on-going series) — some future chapters may contain 🔞 NSFW themes!

@holacia3

Tommy Shelby x Magic-Time Traveler Reader - moodboad and blurb

@little-diable

The Devil’s Son - Cowboy!Tommy Shelby x Reader AU — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

#k’s reading list #k’s fic recs #k’s recs #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #well it’s a little longer than the previous months #here’s hoping there’s even more reading in july

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fayes-fics · 2 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Five hours of snowfall, four miles from the nearest paved road, three weeks before Christmas, two old friends and one bed….

Warnings: 18+smut, minors DNI, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex, passing mention of oral sex, all sorts of feelings.

Word Count: 7.9 k I'm so sorry...

Build a blurb prompt 1: Benedict 👅 smut 🌲 mutual pining 🛌 only one bed - from @amillcitygirl Build a blurb prompt 2: modern Benedict 👅smut 👥friends to lovers 🌲mutual pining 🛌only one bed - from anon

Authors Note: *beep beep* make way for the trope bus, it’s coming thru!! Is this original? No. Was it fun to write? Hell YES! This thing was supposed to be 1k follower celebration Drabble (HAHAHA) but it grew its own legs and took over my brain for the last week. This is my winter epic and I even listened to the namesake song as I was editing it. I hope you all enjoy. Betaed by the total trooper @makaylan and beautiful artwork above made especially by @bridgertontess thank you 🧡

“You’ll just have to stay here,” he shrugs, peering out at the falling snow.

You glance at your watch. It’s 5pm and already dark, snowflakes swirling furiously in the glow cast by the window.

This was not your plan. You are booked onto a late flight back to London tonight. You only came out to the beautiful Highlands for a day in nature after your business trip to Glasgow. OK, and a dose of time with the most handsome friend you have, but mainly for the scenery.

He’s rented a tiny cottage for a week as a painting retreat. Why he would do that in early December is a slight mystery. However, the scenery will undoubtedly be even more breathtaking with a blanket of snow tomorrow—an artist's dream.

“Look, the roads here are tiny and treacherous. It’s too risky to attempt the airport drive tonight in the dark in this snowstorm. I will pay for you to fly home tomorrow instead,” Benedict assures, “penance for not checking the forecast before inviting you?” he winces in the hopes of forgiveness.

“But…” you protest weakly, not exactly hating the idea of being trapped in a remote cottage in the mountains with the man who has haunted your dreams for more years than you care to remember.

“This place is warm,” he points to the roaring fireplace. “And well stocked, in more ways than one,” he adds, gesturing to the kitchenette full of supplies and, with a flourish, to the small selection of single malt bottles on a nearby shelf. “There’s even some festive decor,” he argues.

You are entertained that he believes some sprigs of holly, which he has obviously collected on one of his hikes, count as Christmas decorations. Although, to be fair, wrapped around the bookshelves and candles the way it is, it does look lovely.

‘Yes, but… there's also only one bed,” you argue, nodding to the not-exactly sizable double bed at the other end of the room, partially obscured by a room-dividing bookshelf. Even as you mention it, your belly has a warm fizz at the fleeting thought of waking up pressed against him.

“I can sleep on the sofa,” he says hurriedly in a reassuring tone.

“Ben, don't be ridiculous. You are six feet tall, and that thing is barely five. We are not so young we can just sleep anywhere and still be okay anymore,” you remind him.

“Yeah, thanks for that reminder,” he deadpans.

“We are grown-ups; we can share a bed,” trying to keep your tone breezy, but it feels like the reassurance is for yourself as much as him.

You pretend not to see how he swallows thickly at your suggestion, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

“If it makes you more comfortable, I can fashion a barrier with some throw cushions,” you shrug, a short nervous laugh bubbling up as you secretly chastise yourself for suggesting such a thing.

“No, no,” he rushes out very quickly. “What I mean is… it’s not a big bed, so by the time we do that, we would both be clinging to the edges. Let’s just, as you say, be adults about this and share the best we can.”

“Agreed.” You give a business-like nod, wanting to change the topic.

“Besides, the night is young,” he states, clapping and rubbing his hands together as if reading your mind. “What do you say we cook dinner together? Then, well, it’s card games or jigsaw puzzles, I’m afraid,” he skews his mouth with an apologetic twist.

“Sounds delightful on all counts,” you assure and bump him with your shoulder.

The evening seems to fly by, and the snowstorm outside somewhat abates as you make a delicious spaghetti bolognese together. Even though it's a tiny kitchen space, you make it work, moving around each other with an almost balletic fluidity as soft music plays from a Bluetooth speaker. There's no Wi-Fi or even much phone signal out here, but he came prepared with songs loaded onto his laptop. You exchange easy chat about mutual friends and what has been happening since you last saw one another a few weeks before.

As you sit down to eat together, the conversation flow continues. It's one of those meals you sop up the sauce from your plate with the warm bread rolls you serve as a side. Lingering in your chairs long after eating is complete, chatting amiably and animatedly about anything, everything and nothing all at once, with a delicious bottle of scotch.

Later, you take turns in the bathroom, cleaning teeth and changing into pyjama bottoms, and then you drift to the living room area. You watch as Benedict pours you both a nightcap into scotch glasses and glance outside to see the storm has picked up again, large clumps of fluffy snow gather in the corner of the window pane; you feel very cosy in this small but perfectly formed little rustic cottage.

“So, how have you been entertaining yourself all alone here for the last four nights?” you inquire, enjoying the smooth, smoky burn of the single malt.

Benedict is now sprawled across the nearby armchair in the most Benedict way, legs akimbo.

“I’ve read two books, and I’ve slept for nine hours every night,” he confesses, taking a sip of his drink and looking at you over the top of his glass.

The room feels like it's getting warmer regardless of the fire; how much is due to the delightful fog of whisky in your veins versus the handsome man across from you is indecipherable.

“Are you not lonely?” you blurt out.

“I live alone in London. What's the difference?” his brow knitting in confusion.

“Alone in the city is very different to alone out here,” you offer, “you can’t be that lonely when you’re only twenty feet from your neighbour through a wall.”

“Hmm, never thought about it like that,” his mien turns thoughtful, scratching his palm on the shadow of stubble on his chin.

You hear the rasp from where you sit, and you almost squeak in surprise as your treacherous mind supplies a vivid snapshot of that stubble teasing the soft skin of your lower belly as he looks up at you with a seductive smirk. You have to shake your head to get rid of it.

“Fear of murder out here is different,” you offer, trying to reroute your thoughts.

“Morbid,” he shoots back, raising an eyebrow with a bemused expression on his face.

“Out here, no one can hear you scream,” you jest, aping the movie line.

He guffaws into his glass. “Sometimes that can be a good thing.”

“Murder?!”

“The ability to scream and not be heard,” he clarifies, his tone markedly more languid than before.

“Painting not going well?” you ask with a chuckle.

“It’s going great, but not what I was referring to,” he argues, and you can’t seem to look away from his mouth all of a sudden.

Damn, how much whisky have you had?

“Had a girl here, Bridgerton?” your venture, a flutter in your chest even as you ask.

“Not until now,” he scoffs, but the intensity in his hazy blue stare causes a riot in your stomach.

You have to look down at your feet before you do something stupid, like climb into his lap and suck on his luscious bottom lip.

“Have you been masturbating loudly?” you quip, still looking down, the thought leaving your lips before you can censor it.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, making you look back at him—big mistake. His eyes look stormy, and you can see a vein in his neck pulsing hard. Like you’ve awoken something.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you stutter even as your mind floods with images of just that—him stroking his cock and panting, preferably your name.

The atmosphere feels a little too thick, and you briefly curl your lip into your mouth and bite it to give yourself something else to focus on.

“More whisky?” you offer, standing up and changing the subject.

“Sure.” He holds out his glass, and you swear his fingers intentionally slot between yours as he passes it to you.

You use the few moments it takes to refill your drinks, with your back turned, to gather your thoughts and slow your breathing. Having served, you sink onto the couch again but intentionally shift to face him more directly. The alcohol makes you bold and intrigued to know where this might go. He seems to do the same, his feet looping over the armchair's edge and almost touching yours.

“Hey, do you remember that summer when we were, l think, maybe twelve and…”

“Excuse me, point of order,” you butt in, “If you were twelve, I was ten. OK? Continue…” you motion with your hands for him to go on.

“Yes, thanks for reminding me I am older,” he snarks and skews his mouth into an affectionate pout.

“You are welcome, old man,” you tease with a slight smirk.

“Well, anyway… do you remember that summer Colin came home with headlice? And Ant’s answer was to shave all of our heads? Mum almost had a heart attack when she walked in on that. She was forever grateful he’d only gotten around to doing us three boys. She might have died if we’d made it down to Daph or El…” he is laughing heartily around his scotch glass at the memory.

“Remember it?!?” you pipe up, “of course I do! Don't you remember you were trying to push me in front of your sisters in Ant’s barber line? You seemed concerned to ensure I either got rid of or never got them in the first place; I don't remember which,” you laugh, an ache of fond nostalgia in your chest at little Benedict.

“Well, of course, I’ve always looked out for you,” he rolls his eyes as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You smile a genuinely warm smile at him. He's been a wonderful person in your life for as long as you can remember.

“But you’ve always looked out for me too. I remember you brought me a Malteser every day when I was sick with the mumps.”

“I did?!” your voice incredulous; you do not remember doing so.

“Yes, and I've never forgotten it,” he voices sincerely before he takes a draw of his drink. “But then there is so much about you that is unforgettable, isn't there?” he adds, looking at you with an intensity you don't know what to do with.

“Stop it,” you answer bashfully, embarrassed to meet his gaze, staring beyond his shoulder at the snow falling heavily and sticking to the window in fluffy clumps. “And if we’re on this flattery train, what about you? You think I don’t know it’s been you sending me an ‘anonymous’ rose every single Valentine's Day?”

He gapes at you in surprise. “Wait, how did you know it’s from me?’”

“You are the sweetest person I know. It could never be anyone but you, Ben.” You shrug as if the answer is obvious, “and I know it was never out of pity for the times I’m single because you sent one those years I was with Dan, which used to make him so mad, by the way, and when I was with Julian and Paul….”

“Urgh, Dan deserved to be mad,” his tone dismissive, and his face ticked, “I always hated him.”

“You hated everyone I dated, that you met anyway,” you point out, that fact just dawning on your as you speak it.

“But him the most,” he grouses with a sour expression.

“Why?”

“‘Cos he got the closest to marrying you. And I really didn’t want to have to do that whole stand-up in church and object thing. But, by god, I would have.”

His powerful words stun you; you had no idea how deep his feelings on the subject ran.

“Y… you would?” you stutter.

His eyes are so intense now. Even as he takes a swig, he doesn't look away. “He was not worthy of you,” he declares, slow and deliberate, enunciating each word crisply.

“So, who is?” you ask quietly as you take a sip, the question echoing hollowly in your glass.

“I haven't met anyone yet,” he notes with finality.

You had no idea he had judged every single one of your boyfriends and, what’s more, found all of them to be somehow lacking. In hindsight, he was correct, but he never said anything to you at the time, and you can't decide if you want to hold that against him. It might have saved you a lot of heartache and possibly a lot of money.

“Well, if you meet someone that has the Benedict seal of approval, you’ll be sure to send them my way, yeah?” you volley, your voice light.

He breaks into a smile that makes something flutter strong in your ribcage.

“Certainly. I hope you don't mind waiting until possibly your eighties for me to find a worthy suitor,” he jokes.

“Oh god, really?” you groan, “but I can’t not have sex until then,” you lament and kick your legs out as if in a fit of pique.

“Oh, you can have all the sex you want,” he lobbies back, waving his hand dismissively, “you just can’t fall in love,” his eyes twinkle with mischief you’ve always found beguiling.

“Duly noted,” you giggle.

There is a beat where you just look at each other with a shared fondness that makes your heart ache a little—perhaps under different circumstances, he could be the one person worthy of you, as he puts it.

“Well, that is the last log on the fire dying down. I'm not going out in that damn snow to fetch more, so I think the safest thing to do is get under the covers before it gets too cold in here.” he opines.

“Ben, it's 10:30 pm… really?” you whine, “are you really going to bed already, grandpa?” but as you complain, you stifle a yawn.

“Haha, I saw that yawn!” he retorts triumphantly, “and I've got news for you, missy. You are going to bed too.” He grabs both of your hands and easily hauls you off the sofa.

“Why?!?” you scoff but are secretly enthralled when he rounds behind you, his sizable hands landing warm on your hips and propelling you towards the bedroom area.

“Because I’m not having you crawl under the covers later bringing in all that cold air with you, nope, no thank you, not happening,” he chimes over your shoulder.

“So I have to go to bed now?!” you throw your hands up in the air, but he keeps propelling you forward.

“Yup,” he grins, popping the ‘p’ rather obnoxiously.

You capitulate with a weary sigh. “Urghhh, fine. But I will be up reading for a few more hours, so I hope you can sleep with the light on.”

“Fine with me,” he chuckles, herding you towards the bed. “I once slept in your dorm room when your flatmate was having a full-on dance party. I think I can sleep through your reading.”

You collapse onto the bed giggling at that memory, tugging off your shoes and socks but nothing else as he does the same. He pulls the covers back, and you both settle under, still in your fleecy jumpers. Without your socks, however, your feet feel freezing, and with a wicked grin, you cook up a solution.

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with your feet?!? Why are they so cold!!” he exclaims as your toes wrap around his exposed ankle.

He twists to try and get away from you, but your feet chase him under the covers, you laughing, him shrieking.

“My hands are cold too,” you chortle, clamping them onto his surprisingly muscular forearm.

He squeals in the most undignified manner, trying to shake your grip, but you just limpet on harder, giggling in that way only tipsy people do.

There is the most delightful resulting tussle, him trying to wrestle your hands and feet away as you try your damndest to keep them on him—the duvet entwining around all of your limbs.

You end up with his weight and warmth partially on top of you, pinning you down, him triumphantly ensnaring your wrists and holding your hands firmly onto the pillow. Your joint heavy breathing and giggles slowly die out as you stare at each other. Your faces have never been so close before. You have no doubt your pupils are as blown as his, and you are certain that he can feel the racing heartbeat at your wrists where he pins you down. His breath is warm on your cheek.

After a few silent moments, his gaze drops to your mouth; he suddenly mutters an apology and starts to pull away.

As if in slow motion, you push up and press your lips to his. You are not thinking at all, just going with your instinct. His lips are warm and plush, and you want more. So much more.

You feel the moment his whole body freezes; he is stunned in the truest sense of the word.

You pull back quickly, sinking into the pillow under him.

“Oh god. I’m so, so sorry,” you whisper, mortified, “please forgive me, I….”

Your words die out as he makes a noise you’ve never heard before. It seems to come from deep inside him, making every hair on your body stand on end.

Then he is on you. Closing the gap between you and capturing your lips with a passion that steals your breath and thoughts. He is kissing so hard, so quickly, you feel lightheaded, pressing you into the mattress under his body. His lips open over yours, his tongue teasing against your lips. He tastes of toothpaste, traces of whiskey and something that is all him, and you flood your underwear; there's also a noise from your throat that doesn’t sound human. He kisses like a storm, hot and electric, and you want to drown in him.

Suddenly his hands are everywhere, and so yours follow suit. It’s a desperate clambering of wanting more. Before you can completely acknowledge it, his hands are questing under your jumper, squeezing your waist, sliding up and over your bra, and tweaking a nipple as his tongue parries with yours.

“Please, please take this off,” he implores passionately into your mouth, tugging at your top. His voice, this close and breathless, is lethal. He is everywhere, surrounding and covering you, and your focus narrows to just him as he sits up to peel off his jumper and t-shirt together, exposing his torso. You freeze. Your arms crossed, halfway through taking off yours.

“Fucking hell,” you exhale before you can stop yourself.

You figured Benedict would be in shape from the feel of his body when you hug, but you haven't seen him shirtless in a long time, and just how much in shape he is, is a revelation. He smiles demurely at your outburst, which makes you want him even more if that were possible.

“Take yours off,” he sounds impatient, and you realise you are still frozen in the same position. You quickly whip yours over your head; his responding noise is your new favourite sound. You feel so grateful you only brought nice underwear on this trip; your lacy bra appears to work for him.

“The knickers match,” you murmur, revelling in the flash in his eye.

You grab his hand and move it to the drawstring on your pyjamas. His long slender fingers pluck the bow tied there; his gaze is on your face the whole time, his kiss-damp lips glowing softly in the low light. You breathe deeply and can’t look away from his captivating face. When the string relents, he winks. Rather than pull them down, his hand quests inside and between your legs.

You gasp and buck up off the pillow as warm, strong fingers press on your clit through the lacy fabric. You know he can feel your heat, just how wet the material is.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he rumbles low and sinful as his fingers tease a circle over your clit. “Although this seems unreal - I half assume I’m going to wake up in a minute with my hand wrapped around my cock, alone.”

Hearing him say the word cock makes you moan. He licks his lips, and his fingers curl firmer on you.

“Tell me this is real; I’m not dreaming again,” he pleads fervently, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing your air. He is achingly beautiful this close up, his eyes just a thin ring blazing around dark inky pupils staring into your depths. This man has always been able to make you feel seen, but this close, this intense, it feels like he’s peering into your soul.

“You’re not dreaming, Ben,” you reply shakily, trying not to lose all composure at what the word ‘again’ might imply as he gradually tortures you with unhurried, steady movements.

He is watching your face, so closely observing, cataloguing your micro-expressions. His fingers move, spidering along the lace trim before pushing under the fabric this time, sliding down through your trimmed pubic hair and into your naked, soaked folds.

“Ben!” You call out, grasping that strong forearm again, biting your lip and staring into his fiery gaze.

“What do you need?” he questions. It’s the first time anyone has ever asked you that in bed.

“You,” you reply honestly.

“You have me, 110% you have me,” he asserts in a tone that melts something in your chest. “As if you don't know it, you’ve had me for many years,” he admits as his hand slides lower. You cry out as he pushes two fingers just a fraction inside you.

“Fuck, you are on fire,” he exclaims, a shaky exhale across your lips.

“Only for you,” you answer, knowing you’ve never been this turned on before in your life.

He growls, actually growls. And then his lips are back on yours in the most potent kiss yet. You pulse around him and groan into his mouth as he sinks his fingers deeper. When the kiss ends, you glance down your body, seeing the stiff peaks of your nipples poking insistently through the lace and his sinewy forearm buried into your pyjama bottoms.

“Do you like what you see?” his voice a velvety tease.

“I’d like it even more if we were naked,” you respond honestly.

He chuckles at that, and his lips descend, dropping light kisses down your neck as his fingers tease you, surging in and out of your body so achingly slow. His thumb rests on your clit, a little nudge of pressure every time his fingers rock into your channel.

“I need to make you come like I need air,” he confesses, his voice resonant, his warm breath skittering over the sensitive skin of your throat. It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“Please do…” it’s a quiet plea.

You feel the curve of his cheek as he smiles, and the fingers inside you flex.

“I suppose if you’d like to be more naked, then I’d better strip you down first,” he remarks, gently withdrawing his fingers.

Warm hands hook into your underwear, and he scooches away, pulling them down your legs, taking your PJs with them. Suddenly, the image that flashed in your mind earlier becomes a reality, his stubbly chin grazing your belly as he crawls back over you.

“You look amazing,” he sighs over your belly button and leans his forehead on your stomach as he takes a deep breath. “You smell it too.”

He runs his nose and lips over your skin as he surges up and nuzzles your bra, pleading with his eyes for you to remove it as he pulls the straps down over your arms, kissing along the lacy cup edge.

When his lips wrap around one of your nipples, you grab his hair and push up against him, the swoop of sensation in your belly like riding a rollercoaster, the thrill tingling along the back of your scalp.

He moves to lay beside you, and you watch the duvet move as he strips off his bottoms under it. Suddenly there is a thick wave of body heat as he rolls next to you; you feel something sizeable and solid brand your hip.

“Oh, Ben,” slips out on instinct, but he stops your questing hand.

“Not yet,” he shakes his head and smirks at your corresponding pout. “When you have come, preferably screaming, then you can touch my cock. Okay?”

You physically feel the shiver down your spine at that line. Who even says things like that?

He smiles against your temple as he slips his fingers back into you, and you moan at the sensation. He curls his body around you, legs twining around your right one to hold you open. That cock is still rigid on your hip; it feels sizeable and delicious.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing a circle over your clit his fingers stroking in a come hither motion.

“This… exactly what you are doing,” you reply breathlessly, “just please don't stop and maybe go a little harder?” you request timidly.

He smirks and pushes his fingers deeper; his motions get stronger and faster. You close your eyes and nod, licking your lips.

“Yes, that oh god Ben, thattttt,” you stumble as his magical fingers spiral you higher.

When they jab a spot inside, a bloom of pleasure hits you, and your eyes fly open, going wide.

“Oh, that’s the spot,” he preens, redoubling his efforts as you start to pant loudly, clinging to his arm and whining his name—the hot and intense pleasure building remarkably fast.

“That’s it come on,” he encourages, whispering into your hairline right above your ear; his tone is both soothing and achingly filthy.

“Ben… I,” your words morph into needy noises, drunk on the sensations rippling through your body, fanning out from his fingers buried inside you.

“Yes, yes,” he hisses, “you’re close now; I can feel it. Look at me,” he orders.

And you do. Mouth hanging open, squirming on his fingers, feeling something primal washing over you. His eyes burn into yours.

“Don’t fight it,” he warns.

It's almost like permission; you feel something inside you give way. You scream loudly as a tide of orgasm washes over you. Blood rushes in your ears, and you feel his leg bear down over the apex of your thigh, holding your pelvis onto the bed as you cry and convulse. Your body fights his fingers, trying to push them out as your whole channel clenches in strong waves.

After a few moments of deep breaths, you open your eyes, and he kisses your cheek, then your lips.

“Wow… that was…. absolutely amazing,” he confides, kissing more. “And it's a damn good thing no one can hear us here. You scream like a horror movie queen, and I mean that with all the very best compliments.”

You laugh a little abashed and bury your face into his armpit, loving the smell of his deodorant and just him.

“Your turn,” you mumble, deciding to be bold and snake a hand down your side to grab his cock at your hip.

It’s large and thick enough your fingers don’t quite meet when you wrap around it. It makes your insides melt at the thought of how it would feel sliding into you. He makes the neediest huffing noises as you twist onto your side to face him and begin an unhurried rhythm, watching that pretty cock twitch in your hand.

You tease him with a gentle twisting motion, squeezing a little as you reach his head, swiping a thumb over the bead of precum that appears, gently massaging his frenulum as he lets out a faint moan. His hand covers yours, stilling your movements.

“This is so wonderful, but I need you to stop if you want sex. Do you want to… have sex?” he asks so demurely your heart clenches.

“Yes, Ben, please,” you whisper.

“I didn't bring any condoms with me,” he says quietly, “I didn't think I’d meet another soul up here, let alone well…” he trails off, pitching forward, so his lips are warm on your cheek.

“I didn't either, but I'm on the Pill,” you shrug. You've never had first-time sex without a condom, but this man isn't a stranger; he's a lifelong friend, and you trust him with your life.

“I know,” he says softly, kissing your nose.

“Wait, how do you know that?” your brow knitting lightly.

“I know everything about you,” he asserts against your skin, staring into your eyes. “How you take your tea - English breakfast before 2pm, Earl Grey after, both with milk and one sugar. I know how the tip of your tongue here,” he softly trails his nose over the corner of your mouth, “sticks out of your mouth when you type on your laptop. I know you always loop your glasses into the neckline of your top,” a finger tracing gently over the swell of your breast, “and somehow always forget they are there and have a ten-second panic every time.” He laughs gently. “I even know how you prefer plain Hobnobs over chocolate; I have no idea why, and you are so wrong on that, by the way,” he shoots you a devastating lopsided grin. “And I know you are on the Pill because I've watched you take them religiously for years; when I stay at yours, and you make coffee in the morning, it’s the first thing you take before your multivitamin.”

His casual recounting of so many little, human things that make you, you, astounds you. This man knows you better than you know yourself, and you get a weird swooping sensation in your chest. Of elation that you've finally figured it out, he might just be the one - your human, but also a crushing regret you haven't done so sooner. You could have been doing this, intimately entwined with this wonderful, thoughtful, sensitive, handsome man, for so many years.

Not wanting to waste any more opportunity and so very desperate to have him inside you, you use all your strength to roll him onto his back and climb on top. Surprised and aroused, he looks up at you devotedly, his pupils blown wide.

Silently and without breaking eye contact, you reach between your bodies, line up his weeping beautiful cock, and sink onto him without another thought. The needy noise he makes is like poetry.

He feels perfect, and you close your eyes to revel in being stretched around him, a solid hot presence filling you up and holding you so open. Just the perfect length and girth for you, almost like his cock was made for you.

Warm hands grasp your hips, and your eyes fly open and look down at him, his expression pleading with you to move. Gradually you rise up, then drop down just once, savouring the sensations as he drags against your walls.

“You feel perfect,” he groans “please….”

You know what he is asking, begging for - more. Something in you wants to draw this out, go so achingly slow both of you get mindless. Luxuriate in this carnal, sensual meeting.

“Talk to me,” you implore, starting a leisurely pace.

“What about?” you watch him glance down between your bodies, watching his cock disappear into you as you sink down.

“Talk to me, Ben,” you repeat but pointedly, grabbing his chin to look at you and raising an eyebrow.

There's a lightbulb of understanding behind his eyes, and that killer crooked smile spreads across his face.

“You like my voice, don't you?” he says, pitched low, and you bite your lip, grabbing his hands as leverage for your movements.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, gasping as the pleasure grows between your legs just as he says those few words.

“I know,” he smirks, “I’ve known for years.”

You look at him in surprise. “Wait, how?” you breathe, disbelieving.

He grabs your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him: so much heat and warm flesh.

“I have noticed your pupils dilate every time I drop my voice just like this,” he murmurs low and sinful into your ear. “The temptation to say so many dirty things has been so strong. God, I love it when you are aroused, and you think you can hide it. I knew you were getting wet; it would take all my willpower not to grab and kiss you senselessly. Especially those days when you are only in a little floaty skirt, I could actually smell it. Delicious and sweet and so fucking sexy. That little squirm you would do. How you move your body is fucking sinful. And now I get to enjoy it. You riding me like this. Fuck, if this isn't every fantasy I've ever had coming true.”

By the time his filthy soliloquy is done, you are panting hard, not from the exertion as you rock on him but the way he has pushed you so close to orgasm with so little effort - just his voice and words.

“Ben,” you shudder, “I….” words fail as you feel your body flush.

“I can feel you are fluttering. Are you going to come so soon?” he exhales, impressed. “Oh god, please, please do it,” he urges. “I need to feel it.”

You sit up and reach down to touch your clit, and he swears at the sight. You are tipping over the edge, stilling your movement as you sit with him at your hilt and clench around him. He feels impossibly huge inside you, twitching and pulsing.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” he groans long and loud, clenching his teeth. You know he is also fighting the urge to come, wanting this to last much longer.

Greedy for more, for another stronger climax, you go to move again, but he stops you.

“Please don't move, not yet,” he pleads, grabbing your hips and quelling your movement. “I need… a few moments, please.”

You smile down at him indulgently and link your hands again, bringing the back of his hand to your mouth and kissing it delicately. Then to be a tease, you envelop his middle finger in your mouth, running your tongue over it, tasting his tangy skin. He growls as you add his pointer finger and suck hard, staring down at him heatedly.

“This isn't really helping,” he warns reluctantly with a playful pout.

You let his fingers slip out of your mouth and guide his hand to your breasts, pressing his now-damp fingers against your nipple. He enthusiastically grips your flesh, and you throw your head back and moan as he teases your sensitive buds, pinching them between his fingertips. You gyrate your hips, dragging his tip against your cervix.

There is another growl, and suddenly you are tipped over onto the mattress, him still buried inside you. He grabs your legs and loops his arms under them, pulling your body so open under him.

“Hold onto me… twine your arms around me,” he instructs.

You do, fingers digging into his smooth, muscular torso. Panting in anticipation; at the feel of him holding you down, his pelvis crushed against your engorged clit.

He begins to move, and you can't help but make noises; he just overwhelms all your senses. His kisses, his skin, his arms, your legs held high and wide. He is almost delicate in his motion, but you can tell he is holding back.

“Don't be too gentle, Ben,” you beg, bringing one hand up to cup his jaw and running your thumb over his bottom lip. “Please just fuck me.”

His mouth captures your thumb, and you gasp as he spears into you hard. You hiss your approval as he crowds over you to kiss you fiercely. Then everything is a haze as your mind switches off, and you are rooted in your body, chasing sensation as he takes you hard. He feels so hot and rigid, pounding into you as you lay under him, pinned and almost helpless to this onslaught but wanting nothing more than being right where you are. For a first time together, it’s not awkward or timid; it's exciting and mindblowing but somehow still safe, knowing you can trust him with everything, including your body.

Between kisses, there are whispered encouragements against lips and hands grasping so tight to each other as movements become more frantic and fast. He is hitting your clit on each stroke and panting, so present in the moment, eyes boring into yours. You know he is so close, hanging by a thread when he screws his eyes shut and pleads with you to come with him. A few more strokes and it is happening, your orgasm hitting you hard and breaking over your body in waves, fanning out from your core as you clench around him, making your muscles spasm and your toes curl. You feel him coming hard, too, a warm bloom inside you as he jerks a few heavy thrusts, then stills, mouth open over yours and huffing gulps of air as he twitches.

After a few moments of deep breaths and slumped limbs, he pulls his face up to kiss you tenderly.

“Wow,” he breathes, and you giggle and nod your head. “Why haven't we been doing that for the last god knows how many years?” he shakes his head, his voice a little ragged and rough-edged.

“I don't know, but we should be doing a lot more of it,” you respond brightly, “make up for lost time?”

He laughs warmly and agrees, taking his weight off you and rolling and rearranging your bodies so you are both on your sides, facing each other, hands laced together, noses touching. And that is how you fall asleep.

—

You awaken to dazzling sunlight streaming in, reflecting off all the snow. You wince against the brightness and clamp your eyes shut, burrowing back into Benedict. You feel surrounded, in the best sense of the word. He is a warm solid presence behind your back, an arm slung around the dip of your waist, a hand curled around your breast, legs entangled, downy hair tickling your calves. And best of all, a hard cock nestles the back of your thighs. You flex your hips and shuffle until his tip is poised right at your entrance. He stirs, and there is a hot exhale on the back of your neck.

“Get inside me, please,” you petition quietly, voice scratchy from sleep.

Wordlessly, he rolls his hips, surging into your body in one swift stroke. You moan so loudly that he huffs a laugh, then stills, buried inside you.

“Now go back to sleep,” he grumbles affectionately, arm pulling you into him tighter, your whole body flush to his, curling his legs up so you are almost in the fetal position.

“Like this?!” your tone incredulous, as his fingernails trace an idle ellipsis around your areola.

“Mmm hmmm,” his hum vibrates into your spine.

“Bennnn…” you protest, clenching around him, so he groans deeply.

“I promise to fuck you so hard you forget your name… later, if you let me sleep just a little more,” he proposes, nuzzling your hair.

What a lovely thought. You lay still in his arms for a few minutes, but his cock holding you open is far too distracting.

“Bennn…” you try again.

“Shhhhh…” he reacts, but you can tell he's not sleepy anymore; there is a smile on the nape of your neck.

“You feel too good; I can’t sleep,” you whine, slightly petulant.

“You’re not even trying,” he chuckles richly.

“You can't do this to me,” you wheedle, your breath hitching triumphantly as he tilts his pelvis and slips a fraction deeper.

“If I fuck you right now, will you stop complaining?” his tone laced with amusement.

“Hmmm, maybe,” you shoot back, twisting to glance at him over your shoulder, seeing his eyes dancing with mirth.

Your lips meet, and it's a breathy passionate kiss, all open mouths and tongues, teasing each other and fighting for dominance.

As your mouths dance, he starts to move at a languid pace, just rocking into your body gently, and it’s the best wake-up you have ever had. You cover his hand on your breast, and he intuits what you are asking, squeezing the swell, your nipple snagged between his middle and pointer finger. You break the kiss, and his teeth gently skim the cord on your neck as he speeds up a little.

“Will you wake me up like this every day, please?” you sigh, not thinking about the implications of your words, just drunk on the sensation.

“Happily,” he rumbles and spears a little stronger, making you call out his name.

“The sound I really want to wake up to though….” his voice teasing and low. “is this one…” and his hand slips from your breast to between your legs.

You moan and writhe in his strong hold, little sparks of pleasure firing where he touches.

“That’s it, that’s the sound,” he encourages as you both move together in sync.

It’s a wonderfully sensual experience, growing in intensity until he rolls you over onto your front, still inside you, fucking into you from behind, covering your entire body with his. His hand is trapped between your body and the mattress while teasing your clit.

“Oh god, Ben,” you cry as he seems to slide deeper than ever, your thigh trapped shut together, his legs bracketing yours, using all his effort to drive into you, the tone shifting from languid to vigorous. You’ve never been taken in this position before, and at this angle, he is hitting all the right spots inside you to make your eyes roll back and bite the pillow.

It hurtles you fast, beginning to pant raggedly, and you urge him on, asking for more and harder, and he obliges, thrusting so strong your whole body rolls and the bed squeaks loudly in protest. Your voice becomes one long moaning sound; you are pushing back onto his cock as much as possible, a chorus of please don't stop as he drives you fast towards a climax. His body is bowed, breathing hot puffs of air across your upper back, with an occasional kiss, his lips soft and wet.

He holds you on a precipice for a moment; you crane to look back at his face pleadingly; his expression is wild and so gorgeous it catches your breath.

“You are magnificent,” he rasps against your skin.

Then the hand not on your clit suddenly spanks your butt cheek while his teeth sink into the top of your trapezius muscle, pushing you over the edge, calling his name as you pulsate hard around him. Him grunting and thrusting deeper, fighting your clenching muscles. Then he stills, and every muscle tenses as he empties into your body, almost shaking from the intensity.

He collapses onto your back, breathing in wracked sounds.

“Fucking hell,” you both say almost in unison, then giggle at your matching assessment of the experience.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and flops down onto the mattress to your left, wrapping an arm around you and manoeuvring so are the little spoon once again.

“That was intense,” he voices, and you make a noise of agreement, lacing your fingers with his and holding your joined hands up, watching his fingers sink between yours and curve over, his fingertips resting on your palm.

“We are awesome at sex,” you opine. Benedict chuckles at that, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “And you know what that means?”

“What?” his tone lilting.

“We just have to keep doing it all the time,” you observe with a mock, burdened sigh.

“What a terrible hardship for us,” he concurs with an ironic laugh, nuzzling your neck with a grin on his face. __

Half an hour later, you have showered together - which proved almost as distracting as morning sex until the hot water tank ran out, and you jumped out squealing as the water turned ice cold - and are now leisurely making brunch. You both only wear towelling robes you stole from your Glasgow hotel room, the fireplace roaring again. You agree to go for a walk in the snow later, neither of you mentioning booking your flight home.

“Wait, why is this sofa so bloody uncomfortable” you bemoan, taking a sip of coffee and flicking idly through a book you took from a shelf. “I don't remember it being this bad last night,” you ponder aloud.

“Well, you had had a couple of whiskeys by then,” Benedict points out as he cooks an amazing-smelling breakfast a few feet away in the kitchenette.

“True, but honestly, what is going on with it?” you grumble, putting the book aside, not yet sufficiently caffeinated.

“Sofa beds tend not to be comfortable. As either a sofa or a bed,” he rattles out, flipping a slice of bacon in the pan.

You grind to a halt in your efforts to get comfy.

“Sofa bed…?” You echo out loud.

He suddenly freezes and realises what he has admitted.

“Benedict bloody Bridgerton!!” you exclaim loudly, standing up, “did you trick me into sharing your bed?!?”

He turns around slowly, knowing he is foiled and pulls a sheepish face.

“Yeahhhh, a lil bit…” he admits as you gape at him, attempting his most winning remorseful smile. “But, in my defence…” he adds, waving the spatula, “you are the one who kissed me first. I just stacked the deck; you drew the first card.”

He expertly swerves the cushion you throw at him before flicking off the stove and pushing aside the pan.

“Right…” he charges at you as you squeal.

He corners you with ease in the compact space and throws you over his shoulder.

“We are using this stupid sofa bed right now,” he instructs and, rather attractively, casually flicks a handle on the side with his foot to open it. He practically throws you onto the (admitted thin, rather uncomfortable) bed and tugs open your robe, snaking his way down your body and throwing your legs over his shoulder, shooting you a molten hot gaze from between your thighs.

You have no arguments with this development. None whatsoever.

—

You return to that tiny cottage every year for that same week as a ritual—a little private anniversary. Sometimes you stay through New Year, just the two of you ringing in the entire festive season.

He buys it for you as a wedding gift, and you cry at the sentimentality of the man buying you the place you first got together. (One thing you do early on - buy a new, comfortable sofa.)

It becomes a haven for your lives together, even when you have to bring cots and camp beds for your children, all sleeping communally in that one room. (You don’t tell them, but all of your children are named after characters in an obscure old book he finds hidden in the rafters when you are renovating while pregnant with your firstborn.)

Nothing brings you more joy than when you can escape to that little cottage in the Highlands. You never tell anyone besides your children where it is—it’s your escape, your sanctuary. The “somewhere only we know,” as Benedict always called it.

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