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author-morgan · 2 months

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Title: A Dove and a Hound Rating: T Pairing: Sandor Clegane x fem!Reader Summary: A little dove with broken wings must save her wounded Hound. Or in which Sandor Clegane finds something sweeter than killing. Word count: ~3.7k Warnings: Injury/blood and typical Westerosi shenanigans.

ARYA STARK LOOKS at the bleak landscape around where they had made camp for the night in the northern Riverlands—almost in the Vale. It’s all craggy with sharp boulders and high patches of land, and hardly any trees. The names roll off her tongue as they do every night. The Mountain, The Hound, Cersei, Illyn Payne, Meryn Trant...she doesn’t make it to the next name after hearing the scraping of boots on rock nearby. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Syrio Forel’s words are burnt into her memory.

"What’re you going on about now, girl?" The rasp of the Hound's voice makes her jump, and she curses him, looking up at the night sky, watching for shadows when she hears the soft noise again.

“We’re being watched,” she tells him, turning on her bedroll to face the Hound, her hand resting on the hilt of Needle.

His laugh cuts through the air—a rough sound that hurts her ears in a strange way. A man like the Hound should never laugh. "Here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?" His scarred face looks all the more hideous with the light of the fire licking at his skin. "Finish your little list, girl, then go the fuck to sleep." Arya frowns and looks around again at the land but sees nothing but boulders and empty plains, but she knows someone is out there.

Sandor Clegane won’t admit it, but the Stark girl’s warning is the reason he stays up for over half the night. Then, when he’s certain Arya is asleep, he rises from his bedroll and unsheathes his sword, setting off to search between boulders and in the shadows cast by their dwindling campfire. But there’s nothing there. The Hound moves to return to his bedroll, but that’s when he hears quiet cursing and soft crying. And then he finds a woman huddled between two rocks, trying to nurse an injured leg.

You see the hulking shadow approach too late to muffle your grunts and groans of pain. “Come any closer and I’ll put a fucking arrow through your eye!” You shout. But Sandor Clegane can see the bow in your hand is broken, even if you try to hold the two wooden pieces together to make it seem whole. Then he sees the broken arrow shaft sticking out of your swollen calf, too—the reason for your caterwauling.

“With a broken bow and the only arrow you got stuck in your leg?” The Hound asks, laughing. “Pay a couple of hundred silver stags to see that done.” Sandor drives his sword into the dirt and awkwardly kneels near you, looking over the wound. He can feel your eyes on him, gaze nigh burning. But the soft white light of the moon softens the sight of his half-burned face. He looks familiar. Like you’ve seen him in passing somewhere—or maybe on the parchments nailed outside taverns noting bounties and the enemies of the Crown.

You swallow the knot in her throat and look up at him—you might not be able to place who he is, but you know he’s dangerous, a killer. “Well, go on,” you snap, tears stinging in your eyes. “Kill me and get it over with.”

The Hound recoils as though stung by the words—he knows he’s put a lot of people in the ground, but for some damn reason, he can’t stomach the thought of landing the mercy blow now. You close your eyes and wait—no longer fearing death or pain. But the cold bite of steel never comes. Instead, Sandor Clegane lifts you into his burly arms and heads back toward the dying campfire.

Arya’s surprised when the Hound returns and lets you down to rest against the boulder nearest the fire. The girl’s quick on her feet, bringing a half-filled skin of water, and you greedily drink. "Think I'll end up losing it?" You ask the girl—wiping your mouth with a torn sleeve—a glint of humor shining through as you pat your thigh, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shoots down to your calf and makes your toes curl.

“If you’ve gone this long” —Sandor crouches down and looks closer at your injury— “it’ll take more than an arrow to kill you,” he says. It earns him a dry and humorless laugh with a surprising grimness. Given enough time, he thinks he could come to enjoy the company, but right now, he and Arya Stark are already pressed for time, luck, and coin. Neither of them needs the liability of an injured woman—another mouth to feed—on the path to the Eyrie. Be best to leave her come the morning, he thinks, but now that he’s brought you back here, he knows the Stark girl won’t let that happen.

“May I have your name, good ser?” You finally ask—it only seemed proper to know the name of your white knight.

Sandor Clegane looks at you, and the firelight paints the tangled and twisted mass of scars on his face red—pocking the flesh with craters and cracks. “Not a fucking knight,” he bites back.

And then you can piece everything together—his brute size, the burned half of his face, the posters scattered around the Riverlands. The rumors people whispered are true then, you think. Joffrey’s dog tucked tail and ran while the Blackwater burned. “You’re The Hound.” He grunts. You glance at the girl staring down at you with wide ice-grey eyes. If he’s the Hound then... “You’re Arya Stark.” The girl nods.

The silence that grows between the three of you is heavy and tense. You shift and grimace again. Then your gaze flits back over to the Hound. “Well, are you going to help me get this arrow out my fucking leg or not?” You ask, not understanding why he hauled you back here if he didn’t mean to do something about your current state. “'Cause if you aren’t, I’d sooner you cut the damn thing off or put me out of my misery.”

Sandor moves to you after that and cuts away the fabric of your britches from the arrow, then calls Arya over to set his dagger in the flames—unwilling to go closer. She does as he says, pushing the blade into the hot coals, but then Arya Stark leaps to her feet when she sees Sandor’s hand grip the shaft of the arrow—like he means to tear it from flesh. She knocks his hand away then pushes back on his shoulder, almost hard enough to knock him off balance from where he sits on his haunches.

“We can’t just pull it out!” She tells the Hound like it should be obvious. But he’s not the one who grew up with a maester in Winterfell or spent time reading any books.

“Then how you gone get it out, girl?” He asks, gruff and impatient. You glance between the odd pair, wondering how they haven’t killed one another by now. Arya crouches down and prods the swollen and bloody flesh, then without warning, she grips the arrow shaft and breaks off the fletching. Seven hells, you think, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep a wail of pain at bay, I am going to lose my leg.

“Push it through,” Arya says, remembering the time she watched Maester Luwin remove an arrow from a hunter's shoulder. The Hound grunts and draws a second, smaller dagger, starting to whittle away at the splintered end of the broken arrow shaft.

Arya goes to fetch more water and brings back a cloth with her before settling down to watch with wide, curious eyes. Blood starts to seep down your calf around the entry and exit of the arrow shaft from being handled so roughly. Satisfied with his woodwork, the Hound steadies your leg against his trunk and starts to pull on the iron-forged arrowhead.

You grit your teeth together, fingers digging into the soft earth below, as he begins to ease the wooden shaft through gently and quickly as he can. Arya watches your face twist in pain, but somehow, you don’t cry out. It feels like an eternity. Sandor sets the arrow aside and takes the waterskin from the Stark girl, dumping the cool water over your leg to wash away the blood—there’s a cool but welcome sting.

Sandor tosses the empty skin back to Arya. "More water, girl,” he rasps.

“Bring wine too,” you insist, and the Hound howls with laughter.

“Seven hells,” Arya remarks. You’re just like him. The girl heads off, then comes back with more water and looks at the open wound on your leg with a scrunched-up nose.

“Needs to be sealed with fire,” Sandor says, sitting back on his haunches, that’s why he already had Arya put a dagger into the flames. They don’t have salves and ointments and teas and brews to keep infection at bay, and despite his fear and hatred of the fire, he knows it’s the best way to clean and seal a wound like this.

“I’ll do it,” Arya offers. Her hands are steady, and the fire and heat don’t bother her like it does the Hound. He nods, and the girl goes to fetch the hot knife. They give you a strip of leather to bite down on, and then the Hound looks away when the girl presses the flat of the blade against your flesh—you do scream then. He knows that pain—that scream—and the putrid scent of burning flesh that jumps into the air. Black dots and white stars dance around in your vision. It hurts worse the second time. But you fight through it.

Your gaze settles on Arya after a while, struggling to stay awake. “Where are you taking her?” You ask, eyes flitting to Sandor Clegane. The two are an odd traveling party that much is certain—a Hound and a wolf—made even stranger by your sudden arrival.

“The Vale,” he tells you, “she has an aunt there.” You hadn’t expected a man with his reputation to do something so kind, not even if heavy coin purses were offered as rewards. A hush falls over you, but then the Hound rises and picks up a threadbare blanket from his bedroll. He drapes it over your shoulders, not ungently. “Best get some rest,” he says. “It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

THE DAYS ARE both quick and slow to pass, and soon, you’ve lost track of the time since meeting Arya Stark and the Hound—it could have been a few weeks or maybe months. But since that fateful night, your wounds have healed cleanly, and the only reminders of them are a fading scar and the limp in your stride after long days or over strenuous terrain. You remember the first time you insisted on walking instead of riding Stranger—a great black, unruly destrier. When you slowed, Sandor Clegane slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour before depositing you back on the horse and complaining about the slow pace. Arya Stark was particularly amused by it all.

Disappointment is all that awaits you all at the Bloody Gate of the Vale. Lysa Arryn is dead, and her young son and named protector, Petyr Baelish, will not accept visitors—not even one of Lysa’s own kin. So at the point of arrowheads and tips of steel blades, the Hound turns back, and you and Arya follow, trekking through the Vale and back to the Riverlands, unsure of what to do and where to go. Arya says they should go north, to the Wall—she has a brother in the Night’s Watch—or across the Narrow Sea.

There’s a small village not far, and you take a handful of silver stags and copper stars in hopes of replenishing your stock of ointments and bandages—especially with the now festering wound on Sandor’s neck, a nasty bite from a rogue—and maybe a decent bottle of wine or ale too. But by the time the sun is beginning to set and you return to Sandor and Arya, they’re not to be found.

The campsite is empty. The fire still burning. The bedrolls laid out for the coming evening. You look around the craggy landscape, feeling panic seize your heart and stomach—mind racing. “Arya!” You shout, but there is no response from the girl. “Sandor!” And again, there is nothing but silence.

If not for the fading evening sun glinting off tarnished pieces of silver armor, you think you might not have found him. You stumble over to him, kneeling at his side, fearing the worst. But his chest still rises and falls, and he starts when you touch his cheek, hand wrapping around your wrist, leaving a thick smearing of blood.

There’s something in your eyes, not pity, but he’s not seen that look before —almost doesn’t want to think of what it could be, could mean. Sandor’s grip goes slack, and he grimaces, each breath a ragged rasp. You look over his mangled shoulder, the bruises and scrapes on his face, the muscle-deep cuts on his palm, and his lame leg. These wounds are beyond your skills, and there are not like to be any travelers on this path for days.

The Hound tugs free a dagger from his belt and places it in your hand. "Go on,” he rasps, nodding toward the knife, resigned to his new fate. “Get on with it." The Stark girl wouldn’t put him out of his misery for the hatred she still bore toward him, but maybe you would.

Your fingers curl around the hilt of the blade, grip tightening, but frozen in place—unwilling and unable to move. "I can't," you breathe, fervidly shaking your head. I won’t. He curses you when you drive the blade into the hard earth and not his heart. Sandor Clegane saved you from certain death, and now you’ve a chance to return the favor.

You wet a strip of cloth and dab it over his bloodied face until he turns his head to look at you. "If you think I'm some wounded pup you can redeem, you're stupider than I thought, woman,” he snarls like an aggrieved dog.

But you don’t pay any mind to his hateful words. “Be still,” you chide, gently, going to collect the pack of supplies from Stranger’s saddle. The Dornish strongwine eases the pain, and he lets you clean the rest of the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities —his broken leg, though. You aren’t sure what to do, but you know if something isn’t done soon, Sandor Clegane won’t be using that leg again in this lifetime. You lose track of how many times you have to wander down to the nearby stream. All you know is the limp in your step has come back. By nightfall, the wine and pain claim him, and you’ve said your prayers to the Seven, asking them to spare your poor wounded Hound.

There’s a dim lantern on the dark horizon, steadily drawing nearer and brighter, and then you can hear the rattling of a cart and the braying of a mule. You rise from your post and go to intercept the rickety cart thumping along the winding trail. The mule comes to a halt—the path forward blocked.

The driver has a kind face, rounded from smiles and wrinkled with wisdom, and eyes that are deep and thoughtful but speak of the horrors of the world. “A lady and her knight,” he muses, sparing a glance at the makeshift medicinal supplies illuminated by faint firelight and the state of the brutish man sleeping—half-dead more like.

“Can you help us?” You ask. “Please.” And the broken plea strikes something deep down in the man’s heart.

He thinks on it for a moment. “Aye,” the man says, “I can try.” If he couldn’t, the others on the Quiet Isle could—especially the Elder Brother. His dusty brown robes dust across the rocky ground as he goes to the Hound’s side. It takes all your strength combined to lift Sandor Clegane into the cart—even with the weight of his armor gone. Then you clamber to the front of the cart next to Sandor, letting his head rest in your lap, and with a snap of the reins, the mule walks on again, heading south along the bumpy road—it would be a long night.

Weary and exhausted, you look between the Hound and the driver. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Ray,” the kindly man says. “I’ll take you both to the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can help.” You’ve heard tales of the isle—where men go to atone for their sins and take vows of silence. Some even say those who reside in the Bay of Crabs live in a world unlike the one ravished by war and pain. Brother Ray can see the growing trepidation on your expression. It’s nigh common knowledge women are not allowed to dwell on the Quiet Isle. “Won’t force you and your knight to be parted,” he tells you.

“He’s not a knight,” you murmur, eyes trailing from the road ahead to Sandor, knowing he doesn’t like being called a knight—and for good reason.

“No, but it seems he’s your knight,” Ray says with a chuckle, sparing a wayward glance back at you and the Hound. You flush at the thought and turn your gaze to Sandor, his head resting on your thigh.

A MONTH PASSES and Sandor is as well as he’ll ever be. The damage done to his leg makes him limp after long distances or strenuous tasks, but no one would be able to say such injuries made the Hound a feeble man. Even now, you’ve never seen a man split firewood with so much power and anger. Sometimes, you wonder if he hates you for not ending it when he pleaded for the blade’s mercy. But on the day when the brothers let you see him again, he wore a fleeting smile, soft and weak—the first time you’d seen such a sight.

Storms roll in for the night, and lightning flashes through the window—thunder rattling your featherbed. You pull the covers tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, praying for sleep to come. It feels childish to be afeared of a storm, but it’s a reminder of the night the Lannister men destroyed your home and family and put an arrow in your leg. Rousing from the uneasy rest, you pull on your dressing robe and wrap the wool and linen blanket around your shoulders before setting off in search of company.

His bed is empty, and you frown. Disheartened, you turn back only to bump into a solid wall of flesh and muscle. No man his size had a right to move around so quietly. “What are you doing awake, little dove?” Sandor asks, and you’re unable to meet his gaze with your flushed cheeks as you search for a valid answer. “Can’t sleep?” He surmises, and grateful he spake first, you nod sheepishly. The hand that wraps around your wrist is warm and calloused, yet his touch is light—as though you’re some bird with a broken wing. But wordless, you climb onto the bed next to Sandor, still huddled under your blanket, but not alone, and even with the storm raging outside, within these walls with him, you’re safe.

The morning light breaks through the small window—only glowing embers remain in the hearth, not enough to chase away the chill in the air. You wake to find yourself alone, and it sends a strange pang of sadness through your heart. Making your way back to your chambers, you change into a plane shift and stride from the cottage to find him—the wet grass tickling the soles of your feet as you head down a winding path toward the water’s edge.

Sandor is sitting down on the rocky shore of the island, his dusty brown cloak fluttering in the wind. You go to him and sit on the weathered rock next to him. The morning is cool, and the spray of waves breaking against rocks in the bay kisses your cheeks. Wordlessly, the Hound pulls his cloak free and drapes it around your shoulders. In comfortable silence, you pull the coarse material tight and rest your head against his arm, looking out over the water and the clear blue sky—as though the Old Gods had not unleashed their wrath upon the land last night.

After a long while, Sandor rises, knowing it’ll be time to head to the Sept and see what tasks the Brothers need help with today. You’re quick to follow after him, but before he can start up the rocky path again, you brush your hand against his with all the timidness of a mouse, daring to have a lingering touch as you gather the nerve to ask something that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach, in the darkest parts of your mind and the deepest parts of your heart. You take both his hands—rough and twice the size of your own—and look up at the Hound. "Sandor,” you breathe, his name like a birdsong in your voice, “will you kiss me?"

He laughs—thinking you are playing him for a fool. No sane woman would ever wish to have his touch or his kiss. “With this ruined mouth?” He mocks. But the next jape dies on the tip of his tongue when you fist your hand into his woolen tunic, hauling him down with all your strength to just the right height where if you stand on the tips of your toes, you can kiss him. And you do. Sandor is surprised at first, but his hard exterior fades, and then a strong arm curls around your middle, hoisting you up and then off the ground entirely. You pull back for only a quick second and smile for him.

“Little dove,” he rasps when you move your hands to hold his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks—one marred by the flame—and down into his thick, wiry beard. He half expects to find a shred of fear or disgust in your eyes, but there isn’t any. There never had been. You kiss him again, softer and sweeter this time, and he returns it in full.

Reluctant to part, he places you back on the ground but is quick to pull you into his side and hold you close in the golden hour of the morning. And for the first time since he can remember, Sandor Clegane has a handful of happy memories, and perhaps, in the end, he's found something even sweeter than killing.

[Game of Thrones taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @hc-geralt-23 / @holysmokesblog / @Idkjj04 / @lady-stark-winter-rose / @mikariell95 / @misskatiewrites / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @nyotamalfoy / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Sandor Clegane #The Hound #Sandor Clegane x Reader #Sandor x Reader #The Hound x Reader #Sandor Clegane Imagine #Sandor Fanfiction #Sandor Clegane Fanfiction #Game of Thrones #Game of Thrones Fanfiction #ASOIAF #ASOIAF Fanfiction #my writing #i really wanted to rework this previous one-shot (posted to AO3 and Wattpad) I had with my current writing style #and thus we have Sandor being a big hard man but also soft and squishy on the inside

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ladylooch · 2 months

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Our Little Family [Miles Wood]- Chapter 18 Honeymoon

A/N from 👢 anon: Hey guys, here is another little family update. I hope you guys enjoy it. Still having time jumps, and you bet there is smut here. Also, the woods have some important conversations.

Enjoy.

Everything after the wedding was a little crazy, Miles went right back into hockey mode after you guys went to the courthouse to make it official.

Now you're watching from home as his season comes to an end. He's not going to be thrilled once he gets home from the road. That's not how you wanted things to go for him.

You wait for him. Lily's sleep schedule is getting better and better every day. You appreciate that very much. You are watching the news when you hear his keys at the door.

You rush to the door, and as soon Miles open the door, you're holding him in your arms. Miles sighs, feeling your body against his. He hugs you tighter. You play with his hair as you say that you got him.

Miles nods. That's what he needed. You push the door behind you two. You hate seeing him like this. You say that you'll prepare him a bath, and you peck his lips.

Before lacing your fingers, you close the door and move his bag to the side. You lead him to your room. You ask him to sit while you prepare his bath.

“Do you want me to bring Lily ?” You ask him over your shoulder.

“No, not yet.” Miles' voice comes out so low and defeated.

You nod, get the water running in the tub, and grab all the salts and smells. The ones he enjoys. When the water is at a good temperature, you move to grab him.

You strip Miles gently. You're pretty sure he's sore and has a lot of bruises. You watch him move inside the tub. It makes you smile hearing him sigh.

You kiss his cheek, and you move to get up to separate his suit for the dry cleaning. But Miles stops you. He rests his hand on top of yours. You kneel beside the tub, you watch him. You hate seeing your husband like this. It sucks so much. Hopefully, he doesn't mope for too long.

“I don't think I'm ever going to win the cup.” Miles says what he's really thinking. That hurts you more than it hurts him.

“Babe, that's not true. It's going to happen, I know your name is going to be there. I promise you that. And I'm not going anywhere if it doesn't happen.” You show him your rings, which brings a soft smile to his lips.

You peck his lips before letting him have his moment. You move to make sure the bed is comfy and you grab him some underwear.

Miles stays in the tub until you're back. He's disappointed that he couldn't move forward in the playoffs. But seeing you doing everything for him, without asking or saying anything. Just being there for him, means the world to him.

You move to help him get out of the tub. You wait until he dries himself before you give him the underwear. You empty the tub while Miles stares at his reflection in the mirror.

You hug him from behind, kissing his back. Miles rests his hand on top of yours, and you ask him to come to bed. You guys can deal with his beard in the morning.

Miles nods, and you lead both of you to bed. Tonight, you're the big spoon. It's a little hard because he's a big man, but you guys make it work.

Seeing your big, strong man like this breaks your heart, but Miles needs you, and he'll be okay soon. You know that.

The next morning, you take Lily to cuddle her dad. Miles' appreciation for you only grows. Yeah, that's his wife. He stays mopey for a couple of days, and then he's back. He watched every move you made, everything you did for him.

When he's better, he wakes up early. He prepares breakfast and a whole day just for you. Lily will help her daddy. She's having fun with him at home. So chatty, waddling around, keeping him on his toes.

You wake up to Miles, boosting Lily into bed. She calls for you as she crawls to you. You smile seeing your two loves. Miles smiles, holding the tray of food.

“What is this ?” You ask him as Lily settles beside you. You kiss her head after saying hi baby, while you wait for Miles' reply.

“Breakfast for my girl.” Miles replies moving around the bed to place the tray in front of you.

“You didn't have to do this.”

“I did. Now it's my time to take care of you.”

You shake your head, pulling him into a kiss.

Lily giggles seeing you guys kiss. It makes you so happy that she can see you both showing affection and love to each other.

You motion for Miles to sit with you to have breakfast. You feed Lily more than eating yourself, but it's fine.

Miles looks at you with his “I'm sorry” look, but you brush him off, it's fine.

------

You're across the room, talking to Cheryl and Miles' sister during your wedding reception in Massachusettes. You keep feeling his gaze on you.

Miles can't keep his eyes away from you, having you as his wife around the people that he loves, his family and friends makes his heart so happy.

He crossed the room to meet you. Miles rests his hand on your lower back and kisses the side of your head. Your body leans against his touch, needing more. You chuckle, seeing Lily having a hockey player wrapped around her little finger.

Miles follows your gaze and groans a little.

“I'm going to be in trouble when she grows up, aren't I ?” He asks you.

“Yeah, probably. She's your daughter, after all.” You reply with a chuckle.

Miles groans before saying that he needs to steal you, to introduce you to a few people. That's what happens the rest of the day, Miles shows you off. You guys have your first dance in front of everybody, and Lily has her daughter daddy moment too. It makes her so happy.

You're so happy. Being married to a hockey player has its challenges, but so far, it's been the best thing. You and Miles have come a long way together.

Later that night, you're getting ready for bed when Miles show up at the bathroom door, shirtless making you want to jump his bones.

He crosses his arms, watching you go through your skincare routine.

“We leave in the morning.” Miles says, locking eyes with you in the mirror.

“But, I thought we were going to spend more time here.” You're so confused right now, that was the plan at least.

“We are, but you and I, we have a honeymoon to attend to.” You blink a few times before turning to face him.

“What do you mean ? What about Lily ?”

“We're going to the Bahamas for a couple days, mom will take care of her for us.”

“But….”

“Babe, we need a honeymoon. You need a honeymoon. You didn't ask. You were so understandable after our wedding, with the season starting to get harder...” Miles moves closer to you. He laces your fingers together, bringing your hand to kiss.

You watch him with teary eyes. You really thought that a honeymoon wasn't going to be in your plans. And it was okay with you.

“You deserve this, and I promised you I'm going to do anything for you.”

You nod as Miles brings his hand to clean your tears, and then he pulls you into a hug. You just can't believe he's taking time off his training to take you to the Bahamas for your honeymoon.

“What about your training?” You ask against his neck.

“Don't worry about it, I'll find a way.” You nod, hugging him tighter.

“I love you.” you say softly.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Next morning, you dropped Lily at Cheryl's. It's hard for you to leave Lily, but you need time with Miles before the season starts. You don't want to get in his way.

So your goodbyes with Lily take a little time, Miles keeps reminding you that Lily is going to be okay and you guys will be back soon, plus if you take too long you guys will miss the flight.

You thank Cheryl again, she assure you that she'll update you guys. While you talk to Cheryl, Miles talks to Lily, saying that mommy and daddy will be back soon. She'll have lots of fun with grandma and grandpa, but they need to do this for Mommy. You ease your mind, and you let Miles lead you to the car.

You are resting your eyes when Miles squeeze your hand. You look at him, Miles says that you guys are there. You nod before looking around.

You guys are at another part of the airport, the private one. You look at Miles a little shocked.

“Are… we… going… private ?” You struggle a little bit to say the words.

“Yep, everything for my wife.”

You squeeze his hand, you don't know what to say right now, your brain is not working properly. This is so new for you. Not only the private jet, but the way Miles is taking care of you during this summer.

Miles gets out of the car, he opens your door and helps you. You smile thanking him. You have a feeling Miles will treat you like a queen for the next few days.

The flight is smooth, as soon as you land, Miles has everything planned. First, you will stop at the hotel for check-in and change clothes, then lunch. The first day is more to settle in.

After lunch, Miles decides that he would like to take a nap with you. You join him but can't sleep, so you just stare at your husband sleeping. Still feels like a dream calling him your husband.

Half an hour later, you decide to go to the pool and enjoy the sun. You leave a note telling him where you went.

Sitting at the pool chair, it's time to relax. You lose yourself in your book, the peace and quiet, the distant waves sounds. It's so peaceful. Then there is a shade blocking your sun, looking up, you see your man in his shorts shirtless. What a view.

Miles hands you a drink before pulling the chair beside you closer. You thank him for the drink with a kiss. That makes him very happy.

“Thank you.” You say to him softly.

“You don't need to thank me for anything, babe.”

You nod, taking a sip from your drink. You stare at him, not really knowing what to say. Life changed so much, and for the better.

Miles smirks at you before leaning in to kiss you, and then he gets up to get into the pool. He knows what he's doing, and you know too. You're not going to complain about it.

You watch Miles swim around. When he comes out of the pool, your panties turn into the pool. Those water drops dripping down his body, the ones in his V line that you want lick it. You squeeze your thighs, turning your gaze back to the book.

“Do you like the view, babe ?” Miles asks as he runs his hands through his wet hair.

You lick your lips before answering.

“Yep, loving it.” Both of you chuckle with your reply.

Miles makes you scotch for him to lay beside you. You rest your head on his chest resting your hand on his abs. Playing with his hair, running your thumb up and down his V line. Miles hums at your touch.

This moment is so peaceful, even if you're turned on right now.

“Babe ?” You bring Miles' attention to you. He looks down with those gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah ?”

“I would like to be fucked and lick that water from your V line.”

Miles smirks as he gets up from the chair, bringing you with him.

“I think we can do something about that.”

That's what you like to hear for sure. You guys rush the room. As soon you ] are inside, you're pushing Miles against the door.

You kiss those lips, right now you just need him. You lick every inch of Miles chest and abs. When you get to his V line, you take your time. You can see that it's driving him insane. His little whines show you that he's going to make you pay later.

Both V lines are taken care of. You lick his happy trail just to hear Miles hiss. And it gives you confidence, a lot of confidence.

You pull his shorts down, smirking at the sound of his cock hitting his abs. Miles whines 'baby' seeing you lick his tip, gathering some pre-cum. You look at Miles as your hand plays with his balls.

Miles is a mess, and you love it. He holds your hair with both of his hands. You lick his length, locking eyes with him. It brings the most primal moan from his throat, and it's the sexiest thing. You take him inside your mouth, and with the help of your hand, you jerk him.

You take him as deep inside your mouth you can, gagging around him. Miles curses as you dig your nails into his thighs for support. You pull back to breathe, but you continue jerking him with your hand.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” You smirk asking him.

“Are you sure ?”

“Yep.”

Miles closed his eyes. He almost came with your request. He takes a deep breath, he puts his thumb in your mouth, you suck his finger with a pop.

Miles puts his cock back in your mouth as you prepare yourself by holding his thighs. He slowly starts to thrust inside your mouth, with time he starts to speed up and you know he's seeking his high.

You just hold his thighs, your eyes are getting teary, and you're gagging a little bit. Miles grunts that he's going to cum, you swallow as much cum possible. It dribbles a little on the corner of your mouth.

When Miles stops his movements, you pull back to jerk him through his high. You look at him, heaving, breathing against the door all blissful. You smirk when he looks at you with soft eyes.

He helps you get up, he leans to lick the cum from the corner of your mouth before kissing you deep and hard. Miles hums against your lips, your hands rest on his sides.

Miles scoops you up without breaking the kiss. He carries you to bed, placing you gently in the middle of the bed. After placing you in the bed, he just stares with an awe look.

“God, I'm so damn lucky.” He murmurs under his breath.

Your cheeks burn a little bit; that man is really in love with you. Miles licks his lips before connecting them with yours again. Miles' hand wanders over your body. He unties the knot from your bikini top, making you sign into the kiss when his hand reaches for your boobs.

You arch your back so he can take the top off. His weight is so welcomed on top of you.

Miles attacks your neck as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Babyyy” you whine a little. “I'm going to need you to rebound faster, I need to be fucked.” Miles nibble your skin before pulling to face you.

“Angel, you need to be patient. Things don't work that fast.”

You pout, looking at those gorgeous blue eyes. Miles winks as his hand moves to your bikini bottom.

You wiggle trying to help him take your bikini off. Miles chuckles as you pull him for a kiss. Miles starts to explore your body again, he moves a finger to your pussy.

He hums feeling how wet you're for him, he rubs his thumb over your clit and then slides a finger inside you. You moan, it feels so good even if you want his cock.

He pumps that finger in and out. You're a mess under him. Miles makes you cum with his finger, instead of working you through your orgams as soon as he's ready. He's sliding that cock inside you.

You curse, then you adjust, and it's heaven. Miles holds your hands above your head. His thrusts are deep and hard.

“That's what you wanted, babe ?” He asks as he is deep inside you.

You nod because you can't speak right now.

“I need to hear you.” He states.

“OH fuck.” You say at another deep thrust. “Yeah… that's exactly what I wanted.” Miles smirks, slamming his hips against you.

“Good girl.”

That praise does things to you. Your eyes are rolling back inside your head. Miles knows what he's doing, and you knew you were going to pay.

You want to touch him so badly, but he's not letting you touch him. Maybe later. Miles praises you as he goes deeper inside you.

You call his name a few times when your orgasm starts to build up. As much he wants to make you wait, he's not going to. He moves his thumb to rub your clit.

Your orgasm hits hard. You scream his name and get so tight around him that Miles struggles to keep moving. You tell him that you want his cum, that's the motivation he needs. Miles pumps for a couple more minutes before he's giving you all his seeds. You dig your heels on his thick ass to hold him there.

He drops himself on top of you, trying to put most of his weight on the bed. You smile, running your hand through his hair. Miles smiles against your neck.

“That's the best way to start a honeymoon, being dicked down by my husband.” You say out loud.

“Yeah, and we have five days to do that as many times as possible.”

You like that idea a lot. Miles pulls out of you before bringing you on top of him. You stay like that for a while before you need to pee.

You decided to shower while you're in there. You call for him to join you, and that's exactly what Miles does.

You guys have a soft shower together. You guys take turns cleaning each other, Miles lets you take care of his curls,and it makes you so happy. You're on a mission now, taking care of those curls.

Miles dries you gently. You grab one of his big shirts and lay in bed. You and Miles go through the menu to order something to eat.

While you wait for your order, you both call Cheryl to know how your baby is doing. It makes you so soft seeing her face on the screen. She still doesn't understand the screen, so it's a little hard.

Seeing her happy makes you happy. You thank Cheryl again. While Miles go grab the food, you guys talk a little more. Cheryl does everything she can to assure you that things are okay.

You let Miles talk to his mom for a while. After he hangs up, it's time to eat, and you enjoy that a lot.

This is how you want to spend the rest of your life with him. Great sex, better communication, just being together. Miles smiles at you and occasionally steals some kisses.

………

For the next couple of days, you guys have sex in the morning, have breakfast, go sightseeing, nap, pool or ocean, more sex and cuddles. That's life.

By day 3, on your post sex cuddles at night, Miles decides that he needs to talk to you.

You have your head on his chest as he brushes his fingers over your arm.

“Babe…” He calls to you, and it sounds a little distant.

“Yeah ?” You say as you lift your head to look at him.

“I think we need to talk…” Hearing those words makes you hold your breath. You shift to sit.

“Okay.”

Miles can see that you're going through a million scenarios in your head.

“Babe, everything is okay. You can relax.” He squeezes your hand, trying to assure you that things are okay.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath and wait.

“I know, both of us are loving this routine and having as much sex as possible without Lily here. But the last time we did that I used you basically as a cum dump. Lily happened…”

You close your eyes because he's right, but you don't want to stop having sex with him. God knows how long it's going to take for your next time.

“... and I really don't want you to feel bad because I know you're not ready for that. I was an asshole and I don't blame you for not being ready....” Miles lifts your chin to look at him.

“....If and when we have our baby number 2, I want you to have the best pregnancy possible, with all the good moments. The ones that I took from you.”

“Yeah, you're right. I’m not ready, and Lily is so perfect after everything. I want that, too, if it happens. But I don't want to stop having sex. I missed this so badly.” You drop your gaze.

“Hey, we're not going to stop. Maybe just tone it down a little and not look like rabbits.’ You chuckle, bringing Miles in for a kiss.

“I love you, and thanks for looking out for me.” You whisper against his lips.

“I love you too, always, baby.” You both cuddle until you're asleep on his chest.

The next day, you guys do tone it down. Miles takes you for a boat ride with the sunset view and after you guys have dinner at the beach. Having one more day at paradise, you're taking advantage of everything.

On your last day there, you try to have morning sex with Miles. You guys start making out, but it is taking Miles more time than he normally does.

“Babe, I think you broke my cock.” He says with a chuckle against your lips. You cup his cheeks to make him look at you.

“That's not possible, Woody.” You chuckle “Now, answer me this. Do you want to have sex ?”

“Yeah ?” His answer doesn't convince you.

“Miles, for real, are you feeling it ? Are you turned on ? I'm not going to be mad or disappointed, but I need you to be honest with me.”

Miles sighs. “Not really, turned on yes, but I'm not in the mood.”

“Okay, and that's more than okay. You can say no to me, babe.”

His gaze drops. “I don't want to disappoint you.” He mumbles.

“You're not going to disappoint me. The only way you can do that, is by doing a half job just to make me cum. I want you…” you lift his chin to look at you. “... You're worth the wait, dude. I need you fully in and not just going because I want to. You can say no, baby.”

“Thanks…” He kisses you “ And you know you can say no to me too, right ?”

“Yeah, I do.” You kiss him before shifting so he can lay on your boobs.

And that's how you guys spend most of the day. Cuddling, some time in the pool before getting everything ready to head home. You guys leave first thing in the morning.

…..

The trip was amazing, but nothing beats getting home to your baby girl. Even if she wants her dad first, Miles sends his 'I'm sorry' look. But that's okay, you're used to it. You talk to Cheryl and catch up until Lily decides she wants her mama. She calls for you, and you take her with open arms.

Her soft cuddles are the best. It makes you feel more loved than you're already feeling. You hold Miles hand.

“Thank you for our life. Thank you for this amazing gift.” You look at Lily. Miles smiles

“ You don't have to thank me, sweetheart.” He kisses you with all his love.

Things were rough for a while, but the last couple months are the best you ever lived. You can't thank him enough.

#omg never gonna win a cup 🥺#reader being so soft and gentle with him is SO SWEET #flying in styleeee #V LINE CALL OUT!!!! ALERT!!!!#look id be insatiable for that man. I get it reader.#GOOD GIRL. FUCK #IM GONE #tone it down.... wow #the way that man has really changed #I DONT WANT TO DISAPPOINT YOU #SOBBING #OMG #THANK YOU FOR OUR LIFE. STFU OMG #👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻#miles wood x reader #👢 anon #blog submission #miles wood imagine #our little family

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