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wolven91 · 2 days

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Drifting - Part 12

“Drop zone approaching. Get ready.” Called the dropship’s pilot from far up in a cockpit somewhere. Casper’s body was encased in his own pilot casket and felt none of the violent shaking and sudden drops as the craft rapidly dropped into the atmosphere, heating its belly until it glowed a brilliant orange.

However, the rig that the young man was piloting, still shook and rattled in its clamps. Thanks to the fearless sensations of piloting such a sturdy piece of machinery, unlike his body that was fallible; he never felt worry or fear from these worrying judders.The optics of the mech were already online and scanning the bay carefully. He’d zoomed in on the only other creature, a geckin, that was in sight too many times to count already. Casper shut off the optics as the geckin, unaware it was being observed, picked its nose before happily consuming the prize it had retrieved.

[Grim.] Casper sent, mildly annoyed that emotions never came across in the text-like messages the two pilots could exchange without speaking.

{What?} Qik returned, in a separate craft that likewise, was dropping into the combat area.

[Our benefactors. Just watched one put their whole ass hand up one nostril.]

{Yummy. Looked like your breakfast, didn’t it?}

The nutrient slop, or ‘slurry’ as they oh so appetisingly called it, was what Casper had to eat both in the morning and at night if he wanted to maintain his already drastically lowered weight. It had the consistency of the word ‘goop’ and, now it had been pointed out to him, the colour of geckin snot.

[I am literally never going to eat again.]

Casper didn’t get a reply, but clicked his optics with the feeling that Qik was laughing or grinning in her own rig at his words. They remained in silence for a minute more before the geckin Casper was watching touched a hand to his own ear before making his way to the exit.

“Inbound! Ten seconds!”

The digging geckin fled the room as moments later the floor beneath Casper’s feet opened and a roaring wind blasted up and into the space. The young pilot couldn’t tilt his body down, so most of his view was obscured by his own body, but he could see a dark, grey landscape far below what would be his dangling feet.

{I’m dropping after you, my original LZ is no good. Get eyes on the operation area, don’t approach yet.}

[Yes ma’am.]

{You’re going to make a fine merc.}

“Dropping!”

Despite not ‘having’ a stomach, Casper still felt a phantom one fall out from beneath him as the sturdy metal clamps that had held his rig steady during the transport, released him as one. Gravity took hold of him, along with inertia and both he and his rig were launched from the dropship at great speed toward an infinite ground. As soon as the mech was cleared, the craft did a sharp upward swing, arcing into the clouds and away from any danger that lurked below.

Casper kept himself upright as he fell despite feeling himself tilt forwards and backwards. Blue streaks of his boosters fired in short, sharp bursts, righting himself perfectly as he threatened to tumble. As he careened toward the pockmarked terrain at speed, the man checked he was coming in at an angle, roughly forty five degrees to ensure he could slide to a stop, bleeding his speed without pummelling the ground at full force.

It wasn’t a danger to do that, but he wasn’t specifically built for that.Some rigs could dramatically enter like that, and it was overall better for them to punch straight down, some even incorporating an air burst landing deployment, igniting the surrounding area of the drop point in an explosion that would merely liquidise the internals of anything organic in the area. Those rigs were super heavies, designed for ‘hot’ drops.

But that wasn’t Casper. He’d never wanted that style of machine. Zeet and he, along with Qik, had chosen from a wide selection of parts to create the mech that ‘felt’ closest to what he would be, if ‘he’, Casper, were a mech and not merely piloting one.

The result? As he fell, he felt light, like he could almost glide down if he wanted to. He felt as if one arrange twitch of his shoulder would get the same from his metal body.

He felt ‘right’.

It took a scant few seconds before his legs hit the terrain with such force it sent rocks and dirt flying all around in a great cloud that obscured him from suddenly awake and watching eyes in the distance for a moment. A fraction of a second later, those eyes watched a dark grey machine fly out of the dust cloud on skis, trailing smoke and dirt in its wake that followed it like vapour trails from a jet.

The mech skidded to a halt a hundred metres away from its landing site, its legs bracing into the skid and a series of three large blue cones of fire slowing him to a halt. It remained still, its two optic ports, scanning and watching the city where the unseen eyes watched it back, undetected by the interloper. The long blade in its hand was not ignored, the machine held it out to one side, the metal perfectly flat. The rain that hadn’t ceased in three weeks, merely pinged and beaded along the perfect edge.

The fisheye lens that was watching, clicked its aperture beforing zooming in rapidly and reading the stencilled text across the interloper’s chest, reporting it to its absent masters.

S P E C T R E

Meanwhile, Casper kept low. He used one hand to brace the front of his mech against the ground as he lowered himself further. Chances were, if there was anyone in the bombed out mega city in the distance, they would have noticed the giant walking mech falling from the sky and causing the same size dust cloud as a building falling over would.

Then again, they also could have dismissed his landing as another shell fired from the distant geckin artillery that had peppered the city with a sustained bombardment before he and Qik arrived for the last forty eight hours. The enemy wouldn’t know when the bombardment would stop, they could use this ignorance to gain a brief element of surprise.

{Spectre, I’m down and inbound. Anything?}

A friendly ‘blip’ began to grow in Casper’s perception. The motion radar, or ‘MR’, along with both ‘friendly’ signals still felt strange to Casper, but it was one of the aspects he had demanded from Zeet. A low profile for himself, but a more sensitive sensor suite for him. He wanted to see the enemy, but not have them see him.

What it meant was, he could ‘tell’ where something was, without needing to look away at a radar readout, or even flick his eyes to a compass with markers. A tiny advantage, but one that had already served him well, way back when he had first fought Qik.

At this time, there was no movement from the dead city.

[Negative Scrub. No one is moving.]

A red mech appeared at Casper’s side, its recon unit briefly turning his way, nodding before turning back. Qik’s mech, compared to Casper’s, felt clunky to the human now. It had none of the articulation his has. When he turned her way to nod back at her, his shoulder pulled back, his arm dropped a fraction. He was fluid. Her whole torso turned, her ‘head’ bobbed, then her whole frame twisted back. It wasn’t her fault, but now the man knew what to look for, he had access to whole other level of movement compared to hers.

She knelt, her body remaining upright, while he stayed low, his legs supporting him, but his whole body brought low by his efforts. His profile was far lower than hers. Still, she knew combat better than him.

He’d seen her in a fight through several of their training sessions. It was one thing to be able to move out of the way of incoming shots, it was another not to expose oneself in the first place.

Casper, or rather, ‘Spectre’ as was his code name on mission, focused up.

The pair of them began to systematically scan the seemingly dead city. Spires and towers were burnt out, some having toppled over. There were ssypno forces in the area, the geckin intel had explained that. Since ssypno equipment was high end and dangerous, it was harder for them to replace it.

Their job was to make this planet expensive for the noble conducting this battle. It was the only language that kind of person understood.

[Scrub, I got a question.]

{Go on.}

[Why ‘Scrub’ of all things?]

When Qik had offhandedly told Casper that her own callsign was ‘Scrub’ she was offended and confused when he barked a single coughing laugh before getting a reign on it. She was deadly serious and rather proud of her callsign. The young man, besides an errant comment, had left it there, but now felt as good a time as any to ask; why ‘Scrub’ of all things?

{Because I scour the battlefield clean. My ops are always described as the cleanest, unless I'm working with someone. They’re always the messy ones.}

[I’m just saying, humans might interpret it differently.]

{You said, but I didn’t spend my career building a name for myself to just change it on a whim. You read?}

[Aye aye Scrub.]

{Right, let's get this done and then we can get paid and you can get a taste of the good life. You ready?}

[When you are.]

Casper urged himself forward as he felt Qik’s ‘blip’ move away to the west, taking a wide route around the edge of the city itself. His ‘feet’ were elongated, turning them into skis that glided across the terrain with amazing ease. His spinal mount, a dedicated jetpack pushed him forwards with vents that could open and close in an instant, allowing him to adjust and change direction with a single thought. He could still walk and run, if he wanted to, but the idea was the ability to lean into the slide and ‘skate’ across the landscape, pushing against the ground with the side of his feet.

The speed at which the city approached and became large, imposing buildings that suddenly dwarfed him, was alarming. He slowed and dropped into a run, then walk, as he made it into the city proper, using the wide streets to fit his mech between the buildings with ease. He kept his blade held low, in both hands, ready to bring it up and swing at a moment’s notice.

Before reaching this planet, Casper had never held a weapon before, but now, with copious amounts of software all feeding him instincts and knowledge that wasn’t his, there was a vague sense of longing for a long range weapon, instead of being limited to the length of his blade.

That said, there was nothing for him to attack. He raised the blade to step around another building before lowering out and ready down the next street, but it was just, yet another, empty thoroughfare.

He didn’t need military software to tell when something felt… off.

[Scrub, do you read?]

{Loud and clear Spectre, what's the situation?}

[Zero contacts. MR isn’t picking anything up and there's nothing in the streets. No sign of any mechanised forces. Are we sure we’re in the right place? Are we getting played?]

Casper couldn’t help but think of the contract the geckins had forced him into. In a desperate need to get something more from the human and his unprecedented lack of drifting when mentally piloting a machine, the geckins had not taken it well when he had expressed he wanted to leave. So much so, the only way for him to ‘win’ his freedom, was to complete the op, without getting disabled. If he wasn’t able to walk away from the op, then the geckins, or more specifically, one of their corpo-nations would *own* Casper outright, changing his designation from a person, to a ‘thing’.

Whilst the geckins hated the ssypno with a passion, a trick or trap to retain access to Casper, might not be outside their morals.

{I wouldn’t put it past the geckins to try something, but if the op is a wash, then they still have to pay us and we’re free and clear. They wouldn’t have fed us bad intel for us to go out here for nothing.}

The Spectre mech peered down street after street, holding the blade out, ready to cut anything that moved or scuttled in half, yet each time; it was devoid of life until he found himself, quite deep into the city.

Closing his optics for a moment, Casper willed himself to send a ping out, searching for *anything* that might show where his enemy was hiding. All he needed as a fraction of movement.

He focused, his mind mentally tuning the sensitiveity of his radar, it sensed the rain, a beehive of noise that was too much, so with an errant twitch of his head, he tuned out the rain. He sensed himself, receiving false reports of a mech, but it was only him. He removed that too. Blind to the outside world, he stayed in place, reaching out with invisible hands, groping blindly for anything.

There were creatures, things that scuttled and things that moved. Living organic creatures of small size. They reminded him of rats, but no rats survived the destruction of Earth to his knowledge. The things were squidgits, vermin if left unchecked, cattle if desired. They scurried and hid in the sewers far beneath Casper’s mech’s feet. Oddly, whilst plenty of the buildings still had these creatures inside, several, were *devoid* of movement. Not a single living thing could be felt by his sensitive suites.

The optics snapped open, and clicked again. Turning his head towards the nearest towering building, he leaned forwards, trying to peer through the destroyed structure to the otherside, but found it dark and unable to see the whole way. This was only one of the nearby buildings that the squidgits avoided for some reason. The building was a husk, burnt out from some unchecked fire, most likely caused by the geckin shelling. The inside was too dark to see anything.

With a mere thought, a floodlight attached to Casper’s head, winked on and bathed the building and its bombed out floors in a brilliant white light.

The sea of cyclops eyes constricted to tiny points as the sea of fisheye lenses reacted to the sudden wash of bright light. In turn, the countless laser cannons strapped to their spines whined as electricity suddenly washed through them.

The MR was suddenly bombarded with with a crowd of movement as the buildings all around Casper came to life.Casper merely ducked as the space his mech had occupied only moments before was dissected by no less than seven beams, all wishing to decapitate him in one fell swoop.

[They’re in the buildings!] He sent frantically, as a wave of scuttling mechanised bots surged from the building and landed on his mech.

Not wanting them on him for a single second, Casper brought his arm up to protect himself and braced his shoulder. Spectre’s main booster, sitting firmly in the dead centre of his back, roared to life and launched the human’s rig into the building and out the other side in a shower of destroyed rebar and materials. The smaller multi-legged technicals were sent flying in all directions, having no hope of holding onto the mech as it punched through a building.

[Jesus!] Casper exclaimed as he turned his head back and watched the buildings suddenly come alive as each floor seemed to disgorge multiples of the round, bulbous, skittering machines in a manner that reminded the man of infestations from Earth. If his rig had skin, the young man was certain it would be crawling.

Remembering his sword, Casper swung it in a downward swipe along the edge of one of the buildings, cutting clean through two with zero feedback as his sword found zero resistance. The metal hulls sparked and fizzled before burning brightly as they fell despite the rain even as they hit the street below.

Bright lines of light lit up the air between the buildings and scorched down the front of Casper’s mech, leaving deep valleys of burnt metal in their wake. Gritting his teeth,a side vent snapped open and a gout of blue flames pushed his mech sideways by pure instinct, breaking line of sight with the swarm and preventing further damage.

{Spectre, report.}

[Contacts! Lots of contacts!]

{I see them, locking on but I need to see more. Just keep moving!}

[They’re crowding me, how are they this organised?!]

{They’re computers, no living crew. They seem smart, but it’s just a swarm. Stick to the plan!}

Casper barely made it to the next intersection where his rig could fit before he saw the bright yellow lines of the spider tank’s weapons cutting into the concrete like material of the surrounding buildings. He practically dove down the next street and picked up the speed again.

As he glided down the road, he saw yet more of the machines breaking through the exterior walls of the buildings and began crawling down towards the ground.

{Head west; towards me. Try and get as many as you can in one long line.}

[Wilco. One conga line, coming up!]

East, North, East, North, South.

Casper used his boosters to jump from corner to corner, flitting from side to side, avoiding and evading the growing crowd that was mere feet behind him. Any building, or even corner of a building that was in his way was destroyed. He felt like a cannonball, fired from its home and would merely bust through anything foolish enough to get in his way.

The bright streaks of line that burnt and destroyed the concrete around him only served to remind him that the enemy was still on his tail. Despite his confidence, he couldn’t let his guard down. Overconfidence would mean his and Qik’s destruction.

West, North, East, North, West.

When he turned down what had to have been a main artery for the destroyed city in the past, Casper could feel that Qik was roughly in front of him in the far distance, she was just on the very edges of his sensor suite’s range. Firing his boosters, his skis slid him down the road until the spider tanks began to pour onto the main thoroughfare from either side.

Using his sword in an upwards sweeping motion, he cut several through their centre mass, but it was a mere handful out of the seemingly endless hoard that was following. He speared several more on the tips themselves, not slowing his escape in the slightest.

From the distance, Casper watched as countless red lights suddenly appeared on the horizon in a beautiful dazzling sunburst. They hung there for a second before the lights turned into red streaks that raced up into the rainy sky, leaving behind white trails of smoke. They then seemingly paused before Casper’s entire early warning system lit up that he was in the direct path of this bombardment, his fiddling with his sensor suite had left him blind to such threats and had him duck in the very last second as they screamed towards their true targets.

They hadn’t been pausing in the sky, they were arcing towards him.

Spectre leaned forward, nearly toppling forwards, and willed itself onwards, increasing its speed until it began to pull away from the amazingly agile spider tanks.

Moments later, Casper could see the bright flashes of explosions somewhere behind him illuminate the surrounding buildings for a brief second. That didn’t matter. If it was behind him, it wasn’t hitting *him*. Relief washed over him as several of the moving, angry ‘blips’ that had been racing after him winked out of existence.

{Brilliant! Just got a few to mop up, but that was excellent!} Qik sent, as Casper rapidly approached where she waited at the city’s edge. From her bulky torso, several flaps opened as he approached and yet more of the red lights were launched from her. The lights were the burners for the rockets that streaked into the sky before taking a harsh turn and streaking into the city, where Casper suspected that they would rapidly meet some of the creepy, crawling tanks.

The Spectre mech shuddered as one, its various metal parts and hydraulics complaining with a loud crash. Scrub ponderous turned to face Spectre expectantly as the remaining targets seemed reluctant to approach, having had their numbers vastly cut down.

[I hate those things!]

{Yeah, MGUs or AATMGUs to be correct. Automated, all terrain mechanised guard units. Nobody likes them, they’re annoying to get out of an area because you have to expose yourself.}

The two machines stood there a moment, facing the city, scanning for any of the MGUs that decided to pop their head out. Whilst they were constantly scuttling, demanding both of their attention, they were staying out of sight for the moment.

{Thanks for being bait.} Qik sent without prompting. Having Casper’s head turn to face her.

[No worries, I knew you had my back.]

{Always.}

Casper was turning to look back into the city and question if they were going to have to mop up the remaining MGU when there was a flicker of a ‘blip’ in his mind’s eye. He had messed with so much of the sensor suite’s settings and was so focused on the city that he couldn’t make out what he was perceiving straight away.

He didn’t even get a chance to send the [What was that?] as a long missile streaked into the side of Qik’s mech, forcibly sending the rig into the buildings and launching Casper backwards with the force of the blast. He rolled in the air, having his legs go over his head, supported by the jets as they turned him rapidly until the bottom of his skis slapped against the ground again. Sparks and debris flew up into the air as his optics searched for the threat, all the while his sensors pinged Scrub.

Casper watched as a new machine, undetected by his own system until now, flew in from the sky. It had solid wings that jutted out of its back, but before he could even observe more of the aircraft, it flew low, close to the ground before it unfolded into a mech, skidding to a halt at the city’s outskirts.

Two study legs slammed into the asphalt of the landscape. Its arms unfurled and without saying a word or even hesitating for a moment, the two arms opened fire with a rain of flashing lasers that peppered the surrounding buildings and Casper’s mech with hits.

The strikes were damaging, several connections and wires were burnt and fused instantly, forcing Casper to reroute connections and energy as he spun away from the gunfire and slipped into the city. Pressing his back against the building that weathered the new storm from the new threat.

He turned his head and saw the smoking remains of Scrub, the mech that contained Qik. Her legs were missing and the torso portion was scorched all along one side. She had been through into a now collapsed building. She didn’t move.

[Qik?] He sent, dumbfounded as laserfire continued over the sound of sizzling rain.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #rabbit #lopeljack

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balladofchefsalad · 29 days

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#gw2 cryptid #sightings #i have so many good sightings at this point but this one is hot off the presses #gw2 #norn

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stargirlrchive · 6 months

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── KINKTOBER DAY NINE

mirror sex w/ simon riley ─ female!reader

cw: reader being insecure, fingering, p in v, slight choking, slight hair pulling, soft dom simon, cum play(?)/finger sucking, PRAISE AND BODY WORSHIP (RAHHHH)

NSFT ✩ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST ✩ GENERAL MASTERLIST

“you can’t be serious, love.”

your shoulders shrugged softly as if to brush it off, as if this hadn’t been weighing on your heart so heavily.

“i just don’t-” you cut yourself off before sighing defeatedly, “i don’t like how i look right now. i prefer not to go out and just be home, where im not going to be hyper-aware of how i look.”

simon’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion, his eyes glazing over you entirely. you were perfect. he didn’t understand what there was not to like. but as you began to fidget under his stare, guilt ate at him.

guilt for not realizing your own insecurities had begun to eat at you and that they had festered to the point where him looking at you caused you to squirm. he leaned closer, hands rubbing up your thighs and towards your waist to pull you to him.

he sat you firmly on his lap, his face digging into your neck as he inhaled your familiar scent. “has my pretty girl not been feeling her best?”

your face grew hot as his hand laid on your belly, toying with the elastic of your shorts. you answered him with another shrug.

his fingers stilled for a brief moment, “do you want me to make you feel better, hm?”

you gave him a short nod before he pried your legs open. his fingers dipping between your thighs to rub at your clit through your shorts. a soft hiss leaving your mouth as you relaxed into him, “need you to tell me when you aren’t feeling good, baby.”

you whimpered when his fingers left your clit, standing up and taking you with him. his big hand moved back up to your belly as he guided you both to your bedroom.

when he walked the two of you past the room and into your bathroom, your eyebrows furrowed together.

“i thought-”

he nipped at your ear, closing the door behind him with his foot as he caged you in between the restroom vanity and his hard muscled chest. “we are. but i want you to look at yourself while i fuck you.”

his fingers slowly removed your shirt, pressing his hardening cock against your ass as he kissed down your throat, “want you to remember just how fucking beautiful you are.”

you were about to protest but a soft growl came from simon and the words died on your tongue. his fingers unclasping your bra. his eyes hungrily devouring the sight before him as his fingers skimmed over your belly and towards your breast.

“so pretty,” he mumbled more to himself, but it didn’t stop the familiar ache that began to throb between your thighs.

his thumb gently swiped across your nipple and it hardened beneath his touch. his face tucked into your neck as he groaned quietly, “fuck.”

through the mirror, he watched you with an almost drunken haze. watching the way your body reacted to his touch.

his fingers slowly pulled down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear. his fingers slipping into the fabric and rubbing at your clit. sliding his thick fingers between your folds.

“already so wet for me.”

your face colored in embarrassment and tucked into his neck to not look at yourself anymore. simon gave a soft click of his tongue, showing his disapproval.

his unoccupied hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your face and forcing you to watch yourself. your thighs quivered gently as one of his fingers sunk into you.

“i said i wanted you to watch.”

you whimpered softly at the command in his voice, still so very gentle but firm that you felt it in your bones. your cunt clenched around his finger.

the flat of his palm laid against your puffy clit as he eased a second finger into you. “how could you possibly think you aren’t beautiful?”

your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as his cock rutted against your ass. “do you have any idea of how many times i have to restrain myself from just fucking you wherever we’re at?”

you cried out softly as his fingers gently tightened around your throat, your eyes snapping back open to watch yourself as he fucked you with his fingers.

“or how many times i have to stop from fucking ripping the eyes out of some idiot who’s lookin’ at you for too long?”

you came around his fingers quickly and unexpectedly, and simon grunted when your thighs closed around his hand.

“you drive me crazy, baby. it’s not fair.”

you were breathless and loose, simon slipping his fingers out of you and towards your mouth. your lips instinctively wrapping around his fingers as you licked them clean.

you whined quietly when he pulled his fingers out, “see? you even taste good.”

his fingers unwrapped from your throat and your panties were being pulled down your legs. simon was spreading your thighs before you knew it.

his sweats pulled down only enough for his hard cock to be out. “no fair-”

he laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your hair as he tapped his cock against your clit, one hand on your stomach to keep you up right, your back against his chest. and the other guiding his shaft through your slick folds.

he pushed the tip of his cock into you, grunting softly, “say it, baby-”

your fingers gripped at the counter, even with him stretching you out with his fingers he was still so big. it always took some getting used to.

“say you’re my pretty girl.”

he sunk fully into you, pressing soft kisses to your hair before delivering short, shallow thrust.

your eyes had locked onto simon’s through the mirror, and maybe it was the conviction in his voice, or the sex haze, but either way you did feel it.

like you were his pretty girl.

“come on, baby. say it.”

one of his hands laid on your hip while the other tangled in your hair. his thrust increasing in speed as he grunted soft praises into your ear.

“i-im your pretty girl.”

“damn right you are.”

his thrust picked up pace, fucking into you as his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you and holding you against him. grunting into your ear as you squealed softly from pleasure.

“my sweet girl, you make such pretty noises too.”

you were sure your face couldn’t have burned hotter. his compliments seeping into your skin as you tightened around his cock.

your body spasming against his hold as he held your gaze through the mirror. fucking you through your orgasm.

a quiet groan fell from his mouth as he came, deep inside of you and not once did he let you go. the both of you panting and exhausted as he kissed your neck.

“want you to tell me next time you’re feeling like this. i’ll make sure to remind you just how lovely you are.”

and you knew that he would.

taglist: @trashfox @king-julian6201 @cyberfreaky @tojisun @lazystorycollector @cosmicanakin @yeoldedumbslut @httpsmama @punk-22 @youcraveet @moxiz @hisa-plush @alastairheir @ra-im @ifellinthebong @darlingvinny @aeplern @tallmanlover @screamingoverfiction @mixling-blog @pretty-npeach @babygirl-riley @cringeycookies ; lmk if you would like to be tagged <3

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #cod smut #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #kinktober #STARGIRLRCHIVE — KINKTOBER

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fangswbenefits · 11 months

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Revelations

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel asked you to keep a secret, so naturally everyone is about to find out.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Just a humorous drunk!reader drabble :)

“How much did she have to drink?”

“Maybe three beers?”

“Oh, she’s out of it.”

“How so?”

“She’s been tellin’ everyone she has a boyfriend.”

Jessica Drew’s eyebrows shot up. “Who?”

Hobie merely shrugged.

You threw them a death glare before trying to negotiate with Peter Parker for another bottle, but all to no avail.

“Please! Give me another one,” you whined, sitting down with a thump on the chair oposite to his. “I’m not drunk!”

“How many fingers am I holding up, then?”

You shove his hand away. “Seven… don’t be silly!”

He banged his hand on the table. “See? You have zero tolerance.”

“You have seven fingers on that hand, Jerry!”

“Who’s Jerry?”

You gasped loudly at the sight of Gwen sitting to your right. “When did you get here?”

“What? I was here the whole time.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Gwen, take a good look at her,” he mustered a serious voice. “You don’t want this to happen when you grow up.”

You leant back in your seat with a sigh of frustration. “I want Miguel.”

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

“Gwen, she’s drunk,” you heard Peter whispering.

“Hey! What did we miss?”

Miles and Pavitr nade their way through the busy crowd of fellow spiders, each holding a glass of apple juice.

“Took you some time!” Peter beamed with a wife smile, scooting to the side so they could join the group at the table. “Nice job, kids. The mission was a success.”

“Miguel seemed unimpressed,” Miles grumbled into the heel of his hand.

Peter hid a bottle away before you could snatch it from him, earning a grunt. “I’m sure he’s delighted!”

“Yeah? That’s his delighted face? Looked like someone had just threatened to break canon.”

Pavitr patted his back. “That’s just his regular face, Miles.”

“But he’s really hot…” you said dreamily with an ear-to-ear smile, leaning into Hobie’s shoulder.

Multiple pairs of eyes blinked at you.

Pavitr spoke first. “Miguel?”

Both Miles and Gwen were looking at you like you’d grown a third arm.

“Maybe we should get him here?” You heard Jess saying from behind you. “And you,” her hands gripped both your shoulders to straighten you up in your seat. “You need to sober up.”

You stuck out your tongue as the other spider-woman brought her travel watch to eye-level.

“Lyla, I’m guessing Miguel doesn’t want to come, but—”

The AI cut Jess off with a cheeky smile. “He’s on his way, actually.”

“Miguel is coming?” Peter beamed, unable to contain his excitement.

“Great!” You clapped your hands a couple of times, eager to see him.

Hobie took a sip of his drink. “Bet he’s gonna ruin the vibe.”

Miles nodded right away.

You were about to protest when a chorus of greetings from diverse spiders echoed throughout the bar.

“Evening, boss.”

“Miguel! Great to see you here tonight.”

“Howdy, boss.”

“Meow!”

He was here and once he came into your field of vision — albeit slightly blurred — you felt your heart flutter.

“Look who decided to come out of his cave,” Jess said, her lips quirking up into a smile.

“Miguel!” Peter punched his bicep playfully.

You were waving your hands enthusiastically at him. “Hiiiiii!”

But Miguel wasn’t amused.

His eyes roamed across the table.

“Who brought the beer?”

Everyone immediately pointed at Peter — you included — who was already smiling sheepishly while raising both hands in defense.

“Miguel, we’re just celebrating a successful mission and—”

“Peter, how many times must I tell you not to bring that stuff here?”

“She only had a couple of beers,” Peter replied. “It’s not that strong. I don’t thin—”

“That’s your problem! You never think,” he replied, jabbing a finger at bim.

You giggled. Miguel looked extra hot when he was pissed off. Poor Peter, though.

“Up you go,” Hobie said, hoisting you from your seat, trying his best to keep your balance. “Mind your feet.”

“Wait where are we going?”

“You need to get some fresh air,” he said, helping your arm around his neck for support. “Mr. Grumpy here is about to ruin the mood, I reckon.”

You didn’t want to leave, but figured Hobie was right. He was always right.

“Where are you going?” You heard a voice call out once you’d turned your back.

You twirled on your feet nearly tripping and knocking Hobie down in the process.

“Wait… why are there two of you?” You hiccuped.

Both Miguels arched an eyebrow simultaneously. Impeccable synchronisation. “Two of… what?”

You reached out with your hand to touch one of them but it met with nothing but air.

Huh?

“We were goin’ out for some air.”

You shook your head and the two spider-man 2099 had finally merged into one.

You fluttered your eyelashes dramatically at him. “The just one last beer… pleeeeease…”

“I really can’t do that.”

“But you can do me!” you blurted out with a wink.

Miguel pursed his lips.

Chaos immediately erupted from the bar table, causing some of the spiders nearby to shift their attention to the commotion.

“Language! There’s kids here!” Peter said, trying to cover Gwen’s ears.

“We are not kids!”

Jessica clicked her tongue. “No more drinks for you, young lady.”

“—you are still kids at heart!” Peter was now dealing three very grumpy young spiders.

Hobie, however, saluted you with a proud smile on his face. “You just left Miguel O’Hara speechless. Respect.”

You giggled at Miguel who was definitely not amused. At all.

Before your brain could process what was happening, your body was being hauled from the ground and tossed over someone’s shoulder.

“Time to go home.”

“PUT ME DOWN!” you protested, balling your fists and smashing them against a very hardened surface. “MY BOYFRIEND IS GOING TO DEAL WITH YOU!”

You felt your stomach lurch violently from the motion and decided to tap your webshooters in an attention to free yourself.

The result was…

“HEY! Get-get this off me!”

“I’m sorry, Pavitr!”

Your blob of web had landed on his face, sending the young spider into a frenzy as both Miles and Gwen hurried to aid him.

“Who’s the bloke, hm?” Hobie asked with a grin.

“It’s classified!”

The spider-punk scoffed. “Is that code word for ‘capitalist knobhead’?”

“Funny, ‘cause when I first met Miguel he—” Gwen started.

But was promptly cut off. “Lyla, deactive her webshooters before someone loses an eye.”

“On it, boss!”

You growled in annoyance as an orange beam hit your wrists, rendering the devices uselss. It didn’t take long before you were being dragged out of the bar, multiple spiders glaring you and whispering to each other.

“We can take her home,” Jessica offered, patting the top of your head endearingly. “It’s close by.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Hobie seemed visibly amused. “Maybe we should wait for her boyfriend to get here.”

The big man carrying you halted his steps.

“What?”

You blinked a few times as you saw the pavement start to tilt and go into a swirl. “I’m going to fall!”

A strong arm came to wrap around your waist, keeping your firmly in place.

That was close.

“Yeah she’s been sayin’ her boyfriend’s gonna be here,” Hobie shrugged.

“She’s had too much to drink,” Peter said dismissively.

“And he is!” you snapped. “See, he’s very strong, Jerry.”

“Really?”

“He’s the strongest spider-man,” you smiled, pride evident in your voice. “Very handsome…”

The spiders in front of you exhanged confused looks and as the motion resumed, your insides flipped momentarily.

“He’s really big, too…”

Jess spoke this time. “Big? As in… tall?”

You nodded. “Right! But also… his dic—”

“Enough!”

“Bloody hell…”

“Woah!” Jess gasped.

Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives.

“Miguel’s face!” Gwen chuckled as Miles leaned on her shoulder fighting back the tears.

Oh. Right.

Miguel was the one carrying you…

Peter was absolutely scandalised, urging them back inside. “Let’s finish our apple juice,” Peter called, ruffling Pavitr’s hair. “I have these amazing photos of Mayday to show!”

None of the budged, though, enjoying the show.

“Real shame your boyfriend isn’t here to witness this,” Hobie said.

You grinned. “But he is! Right here!” you accentuated each word with a pat between Miguel’s shoulderblades.

“Ah, knew she was talking gibberish,” Hobie clicked his tongue.

Jess came to take a look at Miguel’s face. “I… don’t think she is.”

“Well! What a fun night,” Peter said in his usual cheerful voice.

“Wait… WHAT?!” Gwen and Pavitr half-yelled in unison.

Miguel let out growl. “Go back inside. We’ll talk about the next mission tomorrow.”

“But—”

He turned to face them, which had you clamp one hand on your mouth from the turbulence.

All three of them rushed back inside with Peter following closely behind.

“No wonder you showed up for once,” Jess said adjusting her glasses.

“Please… don’t start,” Miguel sighed. “Especially you.”

Hobie adjusted a couple of pins on his vest. “Chill, bro.”

“Say bye-bye,” Miguel said, tapping the back of your thighs.

You waved your hand clumsily at them. “Byeeee!”

Both of them returned the gesture, chuckling.

In no time, you felt yourself being hurled into the night sky across the tall buildings that covered the landscape of Nueva York.

The cool air and silence allowed the realisation to suddenly dawn on you as Miguel carried you effortlessly with each swing of his web, red glow flashing around you.

Fuck…

“They all know, don’t they…” you mumbled into his embrace when he made a quick stop at a rooftop.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, Miguel…” you hiccuped.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “It was only a matter of time, I suppose.”

You curled up against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as he heaved a deep sigh and ran one hand along your back in a loving caress.

He had wanted it to be a secret mostly because he feared others might see it as a liability. After all, as long as he put up a front that he had nothing to lose, then it would be a great asset to have in this line of work.

Or so he thought.

Feeling the pounding headache brewing inside your head, you merely groaned into the crook of his neck.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction

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studioghibelli · 4 months

Text

bewitched, bothered, bewildered.

a joel miller x reader

summary: after your parents leave on a cruise for winter break, your best friend sarah invites you over to her house for the holidays. she failed to mention her father is the hottest man in the world.

warnings: best friends dad!joel, slight canon divergence as in Sarah is college aged come 2023, a big phat girthed up age gap, alcohol consumption, reader has just gotten out of a relationship, various media references, smut (fingering, female masturbation, f receiving oral, dirty talk, pet names, tiniest sir kink.) mdni!

note: this could be a series. i’m not too sure right now. let me know if you’d be interested in this as multiple parts!

You had never been to Texas before.

Tales of obnoxiously large barbecues, ten gallon hats, and vast, desert plains where rattlesnakes roamed freely filled your mind. Sticky sweet iced tea, kind old women who called everyone “honey”, and dry, arid heat were also things you associated with Texas.

And, sure, Texas was hot and humid as hell.

But it was beautiful.

While the plane made its final descent down to the Austin airport, your eyes took in the most beautiful sunset you had ever gazed upon, never before seeing oranges and reds quite as beautiful. By the time you deplaned, the deep navy of the night sky showcased millions of glimmering stars. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw so many stars. It must have been ages, but nonetheless they had ignited you with a sense of wonder.

“It’s about an hour, to my place.” Sarah warned, standing by your side as you both waited to catch sight of your luggage.

You nodded a bit, patiently looking to see your dark teal suitcase pass through the conveyor belt.

“Hey,” she nudged you in the side, causing you to glance her way. “Are you still thinking about your ex? Not good for you, so you better stop.”

“What if we were soulmates?” You grumbled, knowing how stupid you sounded. Your shoulders slumped forward. You didn’t actually think that idiot was the person you would spend the rest of your life with, but it was nice to have someone. To have… your person.

“If you two were soulmates, you wouldn’t have been broken up with. Now would you?” Sarah smiled sadly, gently patting your head. “Winter break is a month long. Who knows? Someone here might catch your eye!”

You rolled said eyes at her wiggling brows, grumbling beneath your breath. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe.”

“My dad has loads of hot guys working for him. They stop by the house sometimes, maybe you could…. I don’t know- waltz downstairs wearing a tight shirt and stick your ass out.” She wiggled her butt against you with a faux-seductive dance move.

“Sarah!” You laughed, gently pushing her shoulder.

“Dad says he should be here in about 5 minutes. Oh! There’s our bags.”

You grabbed your luggage in unison, lugging them off the machine before rolling through the crowds of people, no doubt travelling to and fro for the holidays.

“Look for a black Chevy!” She warned as you walked outside.

“I don’t know what that looks like!” You shouted earnestly, over the hustle and bustle of the pick up area.

Sarah looked at you, before rolling her eyes with a laugh. “There he is!” She waved both her hands towards a truck in the distance. You watched as it pulled to the curb, windows tinted black. When the driver door opened you heard Hank Williams crooning from the stereo, still unable to see the figure that was Sarah’s dad.

The shadow on the sidewalk was broad as it made its way towards the two of you, and when you finally dragged your eyes up, you saw Joel Miller in all his glory.

Tall, rugged, a little rough around the edges- but undeniably handsome. He wore a regular tan crew neck underneath a brown flannel, jeans spread out tight against his thick thighs, with the pointed toes of two leather boots sticking out. His dark hair, littered with strands of drool worthy gray, was slicked back from a fresh shower, one stray curl managing to sneak its way out.

And when he stepped closer, you smelled him. God, you smelled him. He wore just the right amount of cologne, and it made your knees weak. Joel smelled like woody vanilla, swirling with cracks of cardamom and whiffs of lavender tinted flowers of iris. You almost moaned. He smelled delicious.

Joel greeted Sarah, but quite honestly you were too overwhelmed to hear anything they were saying. And then he turned to you.

You.

“Hello.” He smiled a bit, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite pin point. “I’m Joel. It’s real nice to have you stayin’ with us.”

You smiled. A real smile. He was kind, too? What a fucking dream. “Thank you.” After telling him your name you went to pick up your luggage, before a hand grabbed your arm gently.

His hand. Well worked, rough, calloused- an honest pair of hands that were scarred by a lifetime of hard work. Honorable hands. Sexy hands.

“There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ a pretty thing like you lift that suitcase all by herself. You’re in Texas now, honey. Don’t you know we practically invented gentlemen down here?” He joked, grabbing your bag and tenderly sitting it down in the bed of his Chevy.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I guess I’ll just let you do everything for me, since you’re a gentleman and such.” You teased. You watched the hint of a smile ghost across his lips.

“Well, you might just have to, darlin’.” With a wink that made your belly tighten, he opened the door for you, and you joined Sarah in the backseat.

“Dad, what the hell are you listening to?”

“Hank Williams.” You both said in unison. He put his eyes on you from the mirror, winking at you.

“Bring this one around more, Sarah. I like her.”

Sarah smiled, looking at you with love sparkling in her eyes. The kind of love that only existed between two bonded women, the kind of love that only two girls in a deep, genuine friendship could share. You smiled, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Dad, you know she just got dumped.”

“Sarah!” You guffawed. And that special moment was over. Tenderness now replaced with annoyance.

“Who got broken up with?”

Sarah nudged her head towards you.

“Her?!” He spoke incredulously. As if Joel could not wrap his head around the idea of someone ever leaving you.

You buried your hot face in your hands, mumbling a bit. “Was a fucking jerk.” You grumbled after a long moment of silence, pulling away from your palms to look out the window, watching the city pass by.

“Must have been, breakin’ your heart.”

“Dad, you have no clue. So it all started-” As Sarah started explaining your past relationship and breakup, you watched the backdrop of Austin rush past your window.

Beautiful buildings shimmering in the night, the distant noise of the city clamoring, vibrant grass and trees scattered about. It was stunning, alive, noisy. It was nothing like what people had described Texas as. And the only person who had called you ‘honey’ so far, was your best friend’s hot dad.

You pulled away from where you looked, coming back in to reality. Sarah was still going on and on with her drama spilling. Joel was still listening, or at least looked like he was listening. His plush lips were cemented into a tight line, eyes dark and focused on the highway ahead. He met your gaze in his rearview mirror once again, and the tightness of his furrowed brow softened momentarily. You offered him a hint of a smile, and he gladly took it.

“So, what’re you majoring in?” He asks you. You didn’t quite catch his question. You were examining how his hands looked around the steering wheel as he turned it, the way the pad of his thumb caressed the leather, the way his thighs looked spread out against the brown of the sleek seat. God. Was it normal to wish you were a fucking steering wheel?

You clenched your thighs together. You wondered if he noticed. He seemed rather perceptive.

“I’m sorry sir, what did you ask, Mr. Miller?”

Joel swallowed thickly, sucking in a sharp breath. “Joel, please. Call me Joel. I asked what you’re studyin’, back at school.”

Sarah laughed a bit, not looking up from her phone. “What isn’t she studying?”

You grinned a toothy grin at the comment. “It’s true. I’ve changed my major loads of times. I started with French, then anthropology. Now I’m stuck between film and history. There are a lot of things I love learning about. I just…. want to see the world, experience it all.” You explained softly, looking out the window as you thought. “It’s kind of hard to focus on one thing when your heart is all over the place. Y’know?”

Joel nodded a bit, clearing his throat. “You sound way smarter than me. Been contractin’ my whole life. Nothin’ special like French or history.” You giggled to yourself at the way he pronounced ‘French’, his Texan accent thick on the syllables.

“Contracting is honest work. Takes a big, strong man, you know? It can’t be easy. I admire that.” You hummed. Your eyes met once again. Joel’s tongue flicked across his lower lip, nostrils slightly flared.

Sarah was none the wiser, scrolling through her phone. You hummed a bit, settling in to your seat. By the time you looked at Sarah, she was passed out, fast asleep.

“So,” Joel began, turning on to a dirt road. You saw a few cows in the pasture fast asleep, the moon hanging above them. It looked like something from a storybook. “You heartbroken’ over this break up?”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t…. really know. It’s just weird…. it’s- it’s like I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Like, yeah, I was cheated on, then dumped. But we did everything together. Went out, grabbed dinner, saw movies. I just don’t know what to fill that up with. I do all those things with Sarah, obviously, but it’ll still be weird. I don’t know. I’m rambling.” You huffed out a breath of air you had been holding, shrugging a bit. “Probably sounds stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid.” Joel reassured softly, his deep voice rumbled like a song through your ears, filling your mind with symphonies and day dreams. Day dreams of feeling his mouth on your own, hearing that voice from behind your back while he took you- wait, what? No! He was Sarah’s dad! You shook the thoughts away. “Don’t uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t feel bad for feelin’ any sort of way. Alright?”

As he pulled into the driveway of his home, you nodded slowly. “I’ll try not to.”

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

You laughed. “Star Wars! I love Star Wars.” You cooed, rubbing a hand down your cheek in an attempt to stifle your giggles.

“Sarah would never watch it with me. Been beggin’ her for years.” Joel admitted through a cracked grin.

“Well, I’ll watch it with you.”

Joel shot you that glance once more. “I’d like that.”

Was it a date? No. Surely not? Stop getting ahead of yourself! You took in a deep, shaky breath, gulping down a thick lump that had been forming. No. Calm down. There was no way.

Sarah woke up with a yawn, smiling when she realized the truck had finally pulled in to the driveway.

Joel helped you all unload your things, showing you to the guest room. “Feel free to help yourself to anything. Fridge, drinks. In the garage we got beers and some of them fruity mixers that Sarah likes. Our home is your home.” He explained, extending that Southern hospitality that you had heard so much about.

You felt your body warming up. “Thank you.”

“And, uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost nervously. “I’ll be downstairs in the livin’ room watchin’ some movies, if you want to join me.”

WHAT?!

“Okay. Sure. I’d like that.” You said calmly, stiffly, and definitely not using a oh-my-god-did-he-really-say-that tone of voice. Nope. Not you. Not at all.

“Don’t feel pressured or nothin’. Just a thought.”

Before you could respond, Joel had walked through the hall and down the stairs. You threw on your pajamas, a simple pair of fleece bottoms and a tank top, rolling the thought over in your head. It would be nice, to sit next to him, hear his laugh, cast glances at his side profile. But you weren’t too sure if you could be trusted. Just out of a relationship, full of emotion, irrevocably attracted to this man….. No. No. It wasn’t a good idea. What if you did something you regretted?

So you climbed in to bed, shutting your eyes tight.

And then thirty minutes passed, and your eyes were wide open.

And then an hour passed, and your eyes were still wide opened.

What-fucking-ever.

You threw the covers off with a huff and walked out of your room, quiet as not to wake Sarah. She had had a rough finals week, and you knew she needed a good night’s rest. You on the other hand? Your body was aflame, every nerve lit up like a Christmas tree by Joel’s charming laugh, perfect hands, stern face. God. Why was he so attractive? So alluring? You buried your face in your hands as you shuffled down the hallway.

You were really doing this.

You reached the couch, and saw Joel watching the television, strong arm thrown across the back of it.

“Uhm, Mr- Uh, Joel?”

He turned to look at you, and you noticed a smirk tease the corner of his lips. “Well, hello darlin’. Started to think you weren’t goin’ to take me up on my offer.” Joel patted the empty space beside him. The couch was small, meant for two people.

You weren’t complaining.

“Yeah, well.” You let out a nervous giggle, sitting down beside him. “Couldn’t sleep, so.”

“Oh. So you’re tellin’ me I’m your rebound?” He joked.

“Yeah. Sorry… I’m real desperate these days.” You teased back, holding an embroidered pillow to your chest.

Joel chuckled a deep, beautiful, throaty chuckle, his arm not moving from the back of the couch, brushing every so often against your shoulder blades. “Do you want a drink?” He asked, turning to look at you.

“Sure.” You smiled softly at him, eyes lingering for a few beats to long. He shook his head a bit, as though he were thinking something he really shouldn’t be thinking, before looking away. A moment of awkward silence fell between you two.

Without missing a beat, he slapped his hands on his knees through a deep sigh, getting up and walking to the garage. When he came back, he had a six pack of beer in one hand, and a box of pre-mixed Strawberry Daiquiris in the other.

“Didn’t know which one to grab for you. A bit of everythin’, I suppose.” He sat the cartons in front of you, and you opted for the Daiquiri.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels. “Anythin’ sound good?”

You hummed out in thought, eyeing all the movies. “Oh! Stepbrothers! That’s a good one.”

He looked at you. “Really?” He teased dryly.

“Sarah and I quote it all the time.”

Joel nodded for a moment, before turning to you, a serious look on his face. “Did you… touch my drum set?”

A long bout of silence passed, before you took in a deep breath and looked up at him. “No.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together, clicking his tongue. “It’s just weird, cause it seems like someone definitely touched my drum set.”

“Yeah, that is weird, cause I didn’t touch them.”

You stared at each other intensely, both feigning fake anger, before you broke out into giggles. He shook his head with a chuckle.

“So, Stepbrothers then-”

“Oh!” You cut him off excitedly. “Look! The Empire Strikes Back!”

He hummed in agreement, clicking it on. You both got settled in, your shoulder touching his side, his arm thrown behind your back again. Comfortable silence blanketed the room, and you took in the scene around you.

A small living room, a flat screen propped on a wooden console that looked handmade, a nice rug spread out over the hardwood floors. There were some car magazines on the table, a pair of work boots sitting in the corner. It smelled like him, and his electrifying cologne. It felt like him, too. Masculine, woody, comfortable. It was incredible.

You had finished the box of drinks before the end of the movie, and by the time Han Solo was frozen solid in his fancy little fridge, you were crying your eyes out.

Not because of the movie.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Joel’s eyes slightly widened as he turned to you. “Hey, honey, what’s the matter?”

You sniffled, face planting in to his chest. You were tipsy, the newest recipient of a so called broken heart, and he was warm. So, so warm. Without missing a beat, Joel’s arms wrapped around you, his grip tight and secure. You had never felt more protected, more wanted, more cared for.

“Shh, it’s okay.” His long fingers ran through your hair, gentle and soothing. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m such an idiot.” You grumbled into his husky chest, no doubt leaving a stain of tears. “I should have seen it coming. Everyone warned me about… about… even Sarah knew. But I didn’t listen. And now I’m here, crying to my best friend’s dad who is way too hot for his own good, full of all these feelings, and-and-….. oh, fuck.” You realized what had spilled from your mouth, pulling away sheepishly and stuffing the pillow in your face.

Joel sat for a moment, wordlessly, slowly looking at you. He gently pushed the pillow away before his index and thumb grabbed your chin, demanding and gentle, tilting your gaze to meet his own. “Too hot for my own good, huh?”

Your face heated up with embarrassment. You wanted to recoil away, maybe throw up a little. You wanted to climb beneath the couch and die there. Anything but own up to your words.

“It’s okay. Think you’re the first of Sarah’s friends to get a little crush on me?” He joked softly, gently rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

A pinch of jealousy surged through you. It wasn’t making you feel any better. You sniffled loudly, your eyelashes fluttering.

“I will say, you are the first of Sarah’s friends I’ve…. well, you’re beautiful. And smart. And, you know.” Joel paused, clearing his mind. He was usually much better with his words. “Look, darlin’. I like you, a lot. And I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anythin’, but I can help with that broken heart of yours.”

A gulp of air caught in your chest. With shaking hands, you gently grabbed his own, pulling him closer to you. A deep breath, and then: “Please. Help me forget.”

Joel chuckled, his palm dragging down the side of your body. “I can do that.”

His lips met yours. Hungry, passionate, deep. Joel kissed you like he’d never kiss again, and you happily let him, lips parting, heart mending. He pushed you down onto the soft couch with his weight hovering above your own, fingers tangling into your hair. He wanted you. All of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, hand moving down to your pajama pants.

“Please.” It came out choked, a plea, a prayer.

He pushed your pants down, allowing you to kick them off, before his palm found your core. Hot, soaked, weeping for him. He groaned, gently rubbing your swollen clit from behind the material of your underwear.

“God damn, girl.” He smirked, eyes darkening. “This all for me?”

You nodded meekly, the inside of your cheek caught between your molars. “Touch me.” You begged.

“Here?” He whispered, his thumb dragging across your soaked slit, over the cotton material.

“Anywhere. Just, please- make me cum.”

“Oh, I’ll make you cum alright, girl. But you’re going to have to stay quiet for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pushed your legs back, slipping between them as he lowered himself, now face to face with your pussy. Joel slipped your underwear to the side, his tongue sweeping across his lower lip, before leaning forward and taking your clit in his mouth. You shuddered at the contact, groaning softly.

“I think,” he whispered quietly, your ears straining to hear him, “I want you to rub this pretty clit while I finger fuck your pussy.”

You groaned softly, eyes blown wide and dark, as you slowly sat yourself up on your elbows. “Ye-yes sir.” It just slipped out. You were too horny to care.

A guttural hiss seeped through his teeth. “I like that.” He warned deeply. “Go on, rub it for me.”

You lowered your shaking hand, the tip of your index slowly tracing up the length of your clit. It was screaming, begging, throbbing for any semblance of pleasure.

Joel’s eyes were on you.

He was inspecting your every movement like a panther stalking its prey, eyes full of lust, tongue dripping with desire.

You took in a sharp breath before rubbing your bud between your index and middle finger, a soft breath leaving you.

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praised, middle finger sinking in to your tight cunt. Joel sighed out a string of curses. “You’re fuckin’ tight, baby. That little pussy is drippin’ for me.”

“For you.” You whispered.

He looked up at you as he kissed your thigh, biting down on the soft, supple flesh. “You’re fuckin’ delicious.”

You threw your head back at his words, hips bucking. You felt your orgasm growing nearer, stomach tensing. Joel pushed your hand away, and you jerked your head to look at him, so quick it almost gave you whiplash.

“Sorry, I just can’t help myself.” He leaned forward, sucking at your clit again, his tongue swirling and flattening against it. Joel knew what he was doing.

As his finger still hit inside of you, you brought your hands down to his hair, tugging at his curls, the once slicked style now rampant and messy. You tried to stop yourself from moaning too loud, fearful of waking Sarah, but how could you not?

Joel fucking Miller, the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on, was worshipping your pussy. You shivered, thighs clenching.

He was worshipping your pussy.

His hot tongue felt like Heaven against you, and Joel was eating you like a starved man, like your cunt was the nectar of the gods. He did what your ex had never done before- he made you feel wanted, made you feel desired.

Joel moaned into your pink flesh, sucking and licking, nibbling and swirling, until your stomach grew tight with a looming climax.

God, he was good at this.

“Gonna cum. G-gonna cum, Jo- oh, oh. Oh.” You hummed out in relief as your orgasm washed over you, eyes widening as he continued licking, sucking, finger fucking- he didn’t care that you were getting sensitive. All he cared about was you. Your sweet pussy, delicious cum, soft folds- he wanted all of it.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He whispered, bringing himself away from your core. “Sweet little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your cheeks heated, and you slowly sat up, legs still shaking. “Jesus Christ.”

Joel chuckled, reaching towards you as he fixed a few strands of messy hair. “Yeah, Jesus Christ.”

You stared at one another for a moment before he tackled you with a deep kiss, hungry and crazed. You wasted no time kissing back, feeling the outline of his cock on your bare thigh. You gasped for air at the touch, already knowing he was big, thick, perfect.

Your hand was moving towards his shirt before the hallway light switched on.

“Fuck. Here.” He tossed you your pants and you quickly slipped them on, resuming your positions on the couch as normally as possible.

As Sarah walked down the stairs, your chest tightened with a sudden realization.

This was going to be a great winter break… if you made it out in one piece, that is.

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l0v3tast3 · 10 months

Note

Ok but older perv bf ghost would be such a menace like he would destroy your cunt in his back seat and then shake ur dads hand.( these older bf hcs make me go feral bb)

anon you are so right. he'll be so mean but like it's literally his fault that he's hot asf and u just wanna jump on him 24/7 ??? anyways tysm for the request and the kind words i hope you enjoy this anon !! ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 20's, simon is late 30's), dumbification, conditioning (consensual), orgasm control, spanking, degradation/praise kink, overstimulation/edging, car s3x, size difference/kink, possessive!simon, c0ckwarming

✎ word count: 1.8k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants to see you become absolutely brainless because of him. you're such a smart girl usually, among the top of your class at university, and simon just loves to see that whole façade crumble away. he knows a good fucking is just what you need to unwind from your classes, and he is more than happy to give it to you.

✧ ˖ ° seeing you go all dumb on his cock makes simon nearly giddy, the feeling of how you stop pushing at his abs and just take it once he bullies his dick in far enough to fill your brain with him instead of whatever you're studying, the sight of your eyes rolling back and your little hands weakly grabbing at whatever they can reach for some semblance of grounding yourself. you know just as well as simon does that it's useless; he makes damn sure that you have nowhere to run to when he has you in his hold.

✧ ˖ ° another thing he makes sure of is that you steadily become the one to come onto him first. simon wants you to be his own little nymphomaniac, addicted to his cock, to him. it all works towards melting your brain quicker and quicker each time. there's a certain dedication he puts towards it- even by the time he was done with you the first time you slept together, he's planning it out, figuring out which muscles to press into to get you to mewl for him, just the right angle to pound his dick into you, how much you can take before he starts seeing dew drops collecting on your waterline.

✧ ˖ ° even outside of the bedroom (or kitchen, or living room, wherever he has yet to christen next in his house) simon's working on it. he'll give you so many hoodies, jackets, boxers, anything that smells like him that you want, and then he tells you that if you're going to touch yourself without him that you better be at least wearing his clothes while you do it. eventually you'll get to the point where you can't get off without the thought of him, without his scent, then without him. there's no doubt either that whenever you do get worked up without him, simon makes sure that you always tell him. text him, call him, send a damn carrier pigeon with a letter, he doesn't care, but he's going to guide you through every orgasm you have.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who can get to be a mean dom. he loves punishing you for whatever reason he can find, especially when you touch yourself without telling him. simon is an experienced special ops soldier who's used his hands to torture people as much as he's used them to pleasure you, so he has not a single problem with knowing how to get the truth out of you. obviously he doesn't torture you, though (not in a way you don't like).

✧ ˖ ° if it's been a long stretch of time where you haven't been able to see each other, he'll pull you onto his lap and start out all soft. he'll run his hands all over you, move his lips against yours sweet and slow, whisper about how much he missed his pretty little girl. he'll listen with a happy hum while you tell him how much you missed him, how much you need him. he'll guide your hips lightly when you can't help but start grinding against his thigh, hands pushing up your skirt to see which pair of underwear he gets to rip apart this time. and then he'll ask you how much you missed him.

✧ ˖ ° from the start you know the question is a double-edged sword, but you always answer truthfully. it only took you one lesson to learn that simon knows when you lie to him (he didn't let you cum for three days while he kept you at his house the entire time). he always appreciates the truth, praises you for being such a good girl for him when you honestly tell him that you only touched yourself during the short phone calls he was allowed while he was away. there's a little part of him that's always a bit disappointed though, the same part that turns into glee when you sheepishly admit that you couldn't wait for him.

✧ ˖ ° simon's always a bit too quick at flipping you over so your laying face-down over his thighs. one hand wraps around your neck to pull you up and arch your back, the other flipping up your skirt and grabbing roughly at your squishy ass. "couldn't fuckin' wait f'me, huh? y'so desperate for cock that y'can't follow simple orders? thought i already taught ya how to be patient," he spits, letting you fall back against the couch so his hand can move down to plant itself across your back. that's when he starts, not even waiting for you to try to apologize meekly or defend yourself. slaps that leave bruises you'll be feeling for days rain down across your ass and simon makes you count each one. if you lose count or stop, he'll push open your legs to smack your cunt and start all over. simon doesn't let up until you're sniffling and whining and your underwear is soaked through (which of course he makes fun of you for).

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who really is an absolute menace with you. he dangles your pleasure over your head like something he grabbed for you out of the cabinets, keeping it just out of your reach until he decides to give it to you. there won't ever be a moment where simon doesn't have most, if not all of the control. there's something about having that command over you, feeling you hand over your trust, your body and mind to him that's addicting. so no matter how cruel he can get, he'll always make sure to ply you with as many orgasms as you can handle (and then some) to show his appreciation.

✧ ˖ ° his brutishness can come in the form of wanting to see just how messy he can get you to be. he'll bury his face and fingers into your cunt until there's a puddle forming underneath you, and when he's done there, simon stuffs you full with his cock and fucks you until your makeup is running with your tears and smearing across the sheets. he'll rip off the clothes that bar him from seeing your gorgeous body so that you have to wear something of his afterwards. and god help you if he wants to fuck in the backseat of his car before you both go someplace. which, (not) shockingly, is something he wants to do before he meets your parents.

✧ ˖ ° with the car parked not too far from your parents house in some spot where people won't think to give the tinted windows a second look, he'll have you working your way down on his cock. every time you whine about how you're going to be late, they're going to know, they won't be happy, simon gives your ass a sharp slap and snaps his hips up into yours. "would y'rather i fuck you in your room while they're home? don't think you can keep quiet enough for that," he mocks, his tone condescending despite the fact that he's already planning on doing just that at some point.

✧ ˖ ° once you're practically limp against his body, letting him use you like his personal toy, he'll finally cum. you finish with him, your third orgasm in less than an hour, as he buries his cock to the hilt inside you and grinds his hips up. once you're semi-conscious again he helps you put on your underwear and pants and gives you his hoodie. and after you've taken off your ruined makeup and redid at least some of it, you'll drive the remaining minute to your parents house, where simon seems to know just how to get them to love him. meanwhile, you'll be shifting in your seat next to him while his cum creates a stain on your jeans.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants you to be with him basically 24/7 while he's not away on missions. you're his girlfriend, of course he wants to spend as much time as he can with you! never mind the fact that this man has probably been boxing away his libido for years. so while he's at his home, so will you be.

✧ ˖ ° you'll find that any clothes you bring over to your stays with simon don't really go missing as much as he blatantly makes them unwearable for you as long as you insist on still bringing them. why would you have any need for those when he has plenty for you? it's not like you'll be wearing clothes much anyway while he has you. it's a lesson you learn quickly to pack light, otherwise you'll be going home with scraps of fabric. simon doesn't not like your clothes (he thinks your style is adorable on you), but the way you smell like him with his hoodies and shirts, the way they're basically dresses on you serving to remind how much bigger he is than you, it drives him even crazier.

✧ ˖ ° because of how touch-starved (and horny) he is, simon prefers to always physically have you close to him. which means lots of cockwarming; he won't lie about how much he loves watching you try your very best not to squirm on his lap, not to lose yourself to how full you always feel with him inside you. whether you're watching a movie or he's working in his office or even just trying to sit down for a meal, simon will preemptively have you sinking down on his cock, chastising you about how eager you always are for him to just fuck you. it's nearly torture for him just the same as you, but the difference is that he has a lot more self-control than you do- just enough to give your thigh a stinging pinch every time you move a muscle.

✧ ˖ ° no matter how long he keeps you there, it'll always turn into simon pushing you against the nearest table or wall and fucking away the last few straggling thoughts in your head. he always waits until your breathing gets ragged and your nails are digging in hard. until you're panting against his neck from the effort it takes to not bounce yourself on his dick. until you're begging. "what? turned y'into that much of a whore that y'can't go five minutes without my cock? fine." he'll say it as if he's doing you a favor, as if he's going out of his way to satisfy the nymphomaniac that he himself has proudly created.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #reader insert #— ask!#— lilly writes! ♡

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tightjeansjavi · 10 days

Text

My Joel,

A/N: I have not written a fic with this many words in a HOT minute, and boy does it feel good! What a cathartic experience this has been for me after writing Joel’s letters. I did not expect so many of you to want Joel and his dearest to have an alternative ending, but here we are 🤭 writing this has been a real treat, and I hope I have done their backstory and alternative ending justice! Buckle up, because you’re in for a wild ride! Thank you to @beardedjoel for letting me spam you with all the updates and screaming along with me 🥹 thank you to @strang3lov3 for betaing and creating these STUNNING divider mood boards for each section of the fic 💘

~word count: 14.4k~

Summary: the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.

Pairing | forbidden lover!joel x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, infertility, canon typical violence, mutual pining, child abuse, mentions of S/A accusations (not by Joel) misogyny (not by Joel) homophobia/homophobic slurs (not by Joel) mutual pining, hopeless romantics, forbidden love, societal status, somewhat historically accurate language, arranged marriage (not to Joel), language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco products, virginity/virginity loss, happy ending/alternative ending, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

My Dearest,

June 1st, 1844

“This evening you are to meet the banker's son, daughter.” Your mother’s sickly sweet voice floated through your room, where you sat along the cushioned bench beneath the long window, your palm resting along your chin as you gazed out towards the gardens, the grass an unnatural shade of green compared to the common folk and farmers that would only dream of stepping foot on your family's estate. Your wealth was directly a result of your fathers parents, and their long lineage of thoroughbred horses. Your own mare was a descendant of the original three stallions imported into England in the late 1600’s.

But you were more focused on the man leading your mare, and her two stallions flocking at her hindquarters from the pasture: your Joel.

Joel Miller was a mere stable hand who was entrusted by your father himself to care for your family's prized horses. But to you? Joel was much more than just a stable hand. In fact, you begged your father one summer to increase Joel’s pay when he proved to be knowledgeable with the horses and their needs. Your father agreed, but refused to dote Joel with a new title. He was penniless compared to you, but you saw his heart before you saw his status in society. And he? He loved you from the moment you first met.

Spring, 1839

“Sir, sir!” A young Joel, 13 years of age burst into your fathers parlor, his hand-me-down clothes were soaked to the bone as the storm raged on outside the estate walls. “Dahlia’s womb has breached! Her foal is on the way!” He exclaimed with excitement.

Outside of your families prized stallions, the mares were just as valuable, bearing the next line of champions, no doubt. Dahlia belonged to your mother, and this was her third foal. Your mother couldn’t stand the presence of Joel in her home, dripping all over the floor, creating a puddle of water along the artisan rug beneath his muddy boots.

“Boy!” She snapped, setting her book down along her skirts where she was sitting near the fireplace, with perfect posture. Her eyes held a cold, unnerving stare. “You are in no state to be in my home looking like—” her pointed comment was cut off by the double doors leading to the parlor bursting open, to reveal your excited, and visibly out of breath face.

“Dahlia’s foal is on the way?!”

It was past your bedtime, but down the hall you heard the news of Dahlia, and couldn’t contain yourself. You were still in your nightgown, your hair in braids with bows tied into the ends. Joel felt a flush immediately rise to his damp cheeks at the sight of you. You were as pretty as a flower, the same age as him, and he wondered why this was the first time he’s seen you, till he remembered that most girls your age spent their days indoors preparing for marriage to a suitable husband of their fathers choosing, and inevitably bearing children down the line.

Just as quickly as his gaze fell upon you, he looked away, clearing his throat to hide the redness rising in his cheeks.

“Daughter!” Your mother scolded you when you rushed into the room and didn’t curtsy upon your arrival. She had yet to notice the bows in your hair when you quickly curtsied, fingers delicately grasping the hem of your nightgown as you bent down at the waist, one foot in front of the other just as it was ingrained into your brain for years. “Apologies, mother.” You softly squeaked out in embarrassment.

She shook her head, a displeasured look fell upon her hardened features. She rose from the couch, silk shawl clenched in her fist as she crossed the room and draped the garment across your shoulders. “Cover up your modesty.” She snapped unkindly. “Men should never see a lady in her night garments.”

I am not a lady, mother. I am a child! Is what you wanted to say, but instead you weakly nodded, muttering another apology under your breath. That’s when your mother took notice of your braids and the bows tied at the ends of them, a sign of innocent youth when you were to become a woman. She scoffed, nose upturning at the sight of them. Her cruel hand rose and fell, landing harshly against your soft cheek.

Joel visibly flinched from the sound, feeling his blood begin to boil under his soaked clothing. You had done nothing wrong! And who in their right mind slaps their own child!

Your skin stung, tears welling and nearly breaching down your cheeks when she yanked the bows from your braids and mockingly held them in front of your face. “These are for little girls. You are to become a woman, or have you forgotten?”

Your lower lip wobbled, and your knees trembled. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing upon your father who paid no mind to your distress. He was too busy puffing away on his cigar, and even if he didn’t agree with his wife’s treatment upon you, he didn’t dare speak up about it.

“Joel, be a good lad and fetch my daughters coat. I will not be treading out in a storm such as that one, but someone from our family should be present for the birth of Dahlias foal.” He gruffed out. “Let us hope for a strong colt. There are too many fillies prancing around here.”

“Sir—” Joel started, but was cut off.

“Fetch her coat, and do not make me ask you a third time, boy.” He sternly reiterated.

“Yes, sir. Right away!” He nodded, quickly turning on his heel and exited the parlor, his eyes met your teary-eyed one briefly before he disappeared behind the open doors.

“Our daughter has no business going out in this storm, husband! Especially not with the likes of that—boy.” She seethed, stepping back from your trembling frame and walked in the direction of the fire, the now crumpled bows in her fist. She wasted no time to throw them directly into flames, watching as they were burnt up into ash immediately.

“Relax, wife.” Your father sighed, tapping out the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray along the table, “she is in good hands with Joel, I trust him.”

“Excuse me, miss?” a timid, youth filled voice appeared behind your shoulder, hand outstretched with your coat grasped between his fingers.

You sniffled, turning to face him and quickly wiped at your brewing tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, fingers brushing his gently as you removed your coat from his grasp.

He nearly shied from your touch, a series of tingles and sparks shooting up his spine when he felt your soft touch for the first time. You reacted all the same; shocked gazes meeting before he was stepping to the side for you to pass by him first, a gentleman in nature despite coming from nothing. He cleared his throat, offering you his elbow to brace against the pounding rain and blustering winds. “I’ve got you, miss.” He whispered as your palm gently rested along the crook of his elbow.

Despite your mother’s incessant protests, Joel Miller guided you outside, acting as a physical shield as you endured the storm together. Once inside the safety of the barn, Joel parted from your side, grabbing a nearby stool for you to sit upon before entering Dahlia’s stall. You watched in pure curiosity and amazement as Joel spoke softly to the mare while her head rested in his lap. Beast trusted man; man trusted beast.

When Dahlia’s foal was born, she was not blessed with a strong colt like your father hoped for, but instead a filly. She was smaller than Dahlia’s other foals, and coal black unlike her mother’s dazzling, dappled silver coat. Joel helped the young filly stand on her long, spindly legs so that she could nurse. He was incredibly gentle, letting the filly lean her weight into him. Although Joel knew he was not allowed to name the horses, he started to call the filly ‘Little Shadow’ and only left the stall when he was certain she could stand on her own.

That’s when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and that you were still sitting upon the stool, hands clasped in your lap.

“Wanna meet her?” He suddenly asked, wiping his hands down on a nearby towel.

“Oh…” you trailed off, “I’m unsure if—”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, a small, boy-like grin tugging on his lips. “M’sure your father would want you to have the full experience, would he not?”

“Yes, I suppose he would.” You agreed and graciously took his hand when he offered it. “He will be displeased to hear that Dahlia did not bear a strong colt.”

“I never understood that.” He mused, helping you down from the stool and gently released your hand. “A healthy foal, no matter the sex, is better than an unhealthy one, is it not?”

“Yes, this is true.” You nervously toyed with a loose thread on your coat, avoiding making eye contact with him. “She is…small though, is she not?”

He took no offense to your lack of direct eye contact. He felt undeserving to be in your presence, let alone hold your gaze? “Forgive me if this comes across negatively, miss. But must you always speak so…proper?”

You turned your nose up at his question, dropping the loose thread from your fingertips, “I am to be a lady, Joel. This is how ladies talk.”

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose you are right. And to answer your question, she may be smaller than the rest of Dahlia’s offspring, but her legs are long, and strong.” He commented thoughtfully as he walked over to the nursing foal. “She will be a winner one day, no doubt.”

“Do you wish to name her, Joel?” You asked softly, standing alongside him with your hand outstretched to gently pet the fillies jet black neck.

“Oh, miss—I could never. I was only calling her Little Shadow because well, she is like a Little Shadow.”

“I don’t think father would approve of Little Shadow…but I think Shadow is a fine name for her, sir.”

“Miss, I am not a sir.” He sighed, reaching behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just a stable hand. I do not possess any titles, and I never will. I agree, Shadow is a fine name for her.”

“Joel, I have heard that you are more than just a stable hand, but I address every man as sir. It’s how I have been taught.”

He looked over at you, eyes scanning the side of your face, the same side where your cheek had been struck by your mothers cruel hand. “That it be true, I am not a man, miss. I am just a boy.”

Silence fell between the two of you while you continued to gently stroke Shadow’s neck. You could feel Joel’s gaze landing on your cheek, but you chose to ignore it despite the heat that was slowly beginning to rise to your cheeks.

“Miss…?” He sounded unsure of himself, nervous, apprehensive of the words he was about to speak next,

“Yes, Joel?”

“Forgive me, I should not be uttering these words to a lady like yourself, but the bows in your hair…I thought they were quite—pretty.” He whispered the last bit, expecting you to scold him, to scream, and surely send him to the gallows for even thinking of you in that inappropriate manner, but instead, you smiled softly.

“Thank you, Joel. Mother…doesn’t approve of them. Says they are for little girls, and not for a lady to be. But they are just ribbons, are they not? I like how they look, and I wish she did too.” You sighed, eyes casting downwards.

He was more bold this time around as the images of your mothers hand making contact with your soft cheek flashes in his mind, “she should have never laid a hand upon you like that, miss. You did nothing wrong! Forgive me—I have forgotten my place.” He dropped his chin between his shoulders in shame.

You wept then, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the phantom sting of your mothers palm. You slowly sank down into the straw bed, head in your hands. You looked so small, frail, weak, and Joel never wanted you to feel this way again.

At first he didn’t know how to react to your distress, but soon he found himself sinking down to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to grasp your covered shoulders, “my dearest, do not weep, please. Your mother has never learned kindness in her life, but you? You—” he struggled to find his words, his empathetic nature coming out in full swing.

You slowly tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze, glassy eyes boring into his. You both took a sharp inhale of breath, time seemed to cease completely. The storm outside raged on, the wind whipped and howled outside the heavy barn doors when Joel Miller’s calloused palms gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your glistening tears.

1842

Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. Your Joel transformed into a man before your very eyes. In your youth he showed you how to run, to make mud pies, to swim in the river, despite your mothers disapproval. Your father showed an inkling of care to allow your years before marriage to be spent with Joel by your side.

On the approach of your sixteenth birthday, Joel Miller no longer looked like a boy in your eyes. He was a man, and for the first time in your life, you felt that forbidden part between your thighs come alive at the sight of him. He had grown taller, his arms filling in, paired with strong thighs. The muscles in his back and shoulders were defined with laborious hours of work. His chiseled jaw was speckled with facial hair, paired with unruly curls that you wished you could feel their softness between your fingers. You found yourself transfixed by his lips and often imagined how they would feel pressed to yours in a heated embrace. The only thing about your Joel that didn’t change with age was his eyes; the deepest pools of brown that always appeared lighter when he was graced with your presence.

Your father treated him like a son, inviting him out on the weekends to go fox hunting with your brothers. The prospect of attending college was even on the horizon for him, and Joel could taste his new life brewing on his tongue. His feelings grew for you over the years, feeling his heart flutter and clench whenever you would look his way. Even in your modest attire, he envisioned your womanly figure beneath your layers of tooled skirts. Every night before he laid his body to sleep, he would imagine your lips pressing to his own until the thought of it had begun to drive him mad.

So upon your sixteenth birthday, he approached your father in his office with only one thought on his mind; asking for your fathers permission, and blessing to court, and eventually marry you.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rasped behind the closed door.

Joel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms along the front of his trousers, bringing one hand up to smooth down his untamed curls. His calloused palm grasped the brass handle and slowly pushed it open.

Your father was seated behind his desk, cigar smoke wafting through the air in a swirling pattern from where it rested between his lips. He looked at Joel expectantly, arms crossed behind his head in a lax position. “Joel, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him softly. He momentarily glanced out a large window overlooking the gardens where in just a few hours, your party would be in full swing. “Good afternoon, sir.” He nodded curtly, “beautiful day we’re having, yes? The weather will be exceptional for your daughter's birthday this evening.”

My Dearest.

“Yes, indeed. The weather has been lovely.” Your father mused. “If you’re asking if you can attend tonight’s festivities, you already know my answer, Joel. The lady of the house wouldn’t stand for it.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Yes, of course, sir. I won’t be on the grounds this evening. A few friends have invited me to the tavern for drinks. I won’t be out late, I swear it.”

“I see.” Your father nodded, “a handsome young man such as yourself oughta get out there more.” He agreed, “So, what are you here for then?”

Shit.

“Sir, I have—known your daughter for many years now, as you are aware. I am also aware that she has many suitors lined up to offer her hand in marriage, but sir, if I was given your blessing, and permission, I would—”

“Joel.” Your father’s tone cut through the younger man like a sharpened blade. “My daughter has already been promised to another. Do not take me for a fool, boy. I have seen the way your gaze lingers on her longer than what would even be described as appropriate. I see the way she looks at you, Joel. I have bit my tongue on this matter because I happen to like you, son. What I can offer you is another lady, at your choosing. You can live a happy, comfortable life and hold a title that you would never otherwise possess. My suggestion is that you accept my generous offer, and throw away your fantasy of ever marrying my daughter.”

Joel swallowed his disappointment down with a heavy gulp. He was naive to believe that he could ever be granted with your fathers blessing. How foolish of him to believe that a man such as himself, would ever end up with the likes of you. It was a fantasy, an unattainable dream that he was better off extinguishing now instead of dwelling on what could never be. He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his heart submerged to the very pits of his stomach. “I understand, sir.” He finally spoke.

“Good lad. I knew you were a smart one from the start. Now, this stays between you and I, alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. You didn’t hear this from me, but the lady of the house plans to retire early this evening. If you see the opportunity to whisk my daughter away for one evening, take it. If it sours, do not even think about taking me down with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir?” Joel sounded confused, his eyes going wide momentarily, “I’m confused—”

“Treat my daughter to a night that she will never forget, so that in her later years, when she is in misery after bearing her husband's children, and finds herself in a loveless marriage, she will have her memories of you to look back on. Do not, and I mean by any means, get caught and throw your life away so foolishly.”

“I—I understand, sir.” He stuttered out, his heart lurching in his chest at the prospect of one evening with you in his embrace. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He gushed earnestly.

“Leave now, Joel. Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise.”

All evening you danced merrily and socialized with the upper socialites of Texas with a fake smile plastered on your pretty painted lips. You searched high and low for your Joel all evening. Your gaze lingered, heart skipping a beat anytime a man that resembled him would stride past, only to be met with bitter disappointment when they would turn their cheek towards you and the resemblance would dissipate like the bubbles in your champagne flute. Your mother had retired for the evening, and your father was in his parlor with his colleagues, smoking, drinking, and playing hands of poker.

And then you felt a presence brush past your bare shoulder, the skirts of your dress ruffling in the warm summer breeze. A shred of parchment was placed into your palm discreetly as you watched the inconspicuous figure disappear in the direction of the nearby stables. Once you were certain no one was paying any attention to you, you unfolded parchment, your heart surging at the familiar penmanship.

My Dearest,

Happy sixteenth birthday. Meet me at the stables in exactly one hour.

Your Joel

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the butterflies erupted and fluttered wildly in your stomach, Your Joel. You brought the parchment to your lips, kissing his words, your lashes fluttering shut.

As the minutes ticked by, your excitement heightened, and when it was ten minutes to the hour, you snuck off to the stables with a visible pep in your step. The barn door was left ajar upon your entering, and when you turned the corner, you found your Joel inside of Shadow’s stall, bows and flowers were braided delicately throughout her luscious mane and tail. When he sensed your presence, he turned around, the biggest grin plastered on his face, dimples peeking through, one stray curl falling across his forehead that was begging to be brushed away by your soft fingertips.

“Joel.” You breathed out, smile mimicking his own.

“My Dearest.” His heart surged in his chest, and then you were launching yourself into his arms unexpectedly. He caught you, of course, hugging you tightly to his broad frame. “No one saw you, right?”

“No.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands fell to your waist. “Shadow looks beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

He chuckled warmly, tilting his forehead to rest upon yours with a sigh of relief, “she doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as you, darlin.’ And why for your birthday, of course!”

His warm, timbre laugh sent your stomach somersaulting, and your mind feeling dizzy. “An evening ride through the countryside, is that my present from you?” You teased him lightly, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.

“No, no, my sweet. It’s actually…a surprise. Are you up for it? Oh! You’ll be needing these, however.” He reluctantly departed from your embrace, stepping off to the side to lift a rucksack from the ground. “I believe they’re your size.”

You raised a curious brow as he handed the rucksack off to you. “You mean, I get an excuse to wear something outside of my fine dresses?” You gasped softly.

“Mhm.” He nodded, smile playing on his lips at your pure excitement over something so small. “I’ll uh—give you some privacy to change.” He cleared his throat, eyes dancing in the direction opposite of you as he turned on his heel so his back would be facing you.

Secretly, you wanted him to see you undress from your obnoxious layers and reveal your untouched skin to his admiring gaze. The times that you would swim in the river together were different. You were both still children, and your womanly curves hadn’t made their appearance just yet.

He silently listened to your fine skirts fall to the dusty barn floor and he was half tempted to peek, but remained respectful as you undressed. Once you gave him the okay, he slowly turned around to face you once more. Gone were your frilly heavy skirts that dragged along the floor with each step that you took. Your skirt was still long, but not as weighted and while the bodice was still fairly constricting, the sleeves were dainty and hung off the side of your shoulders like silk drapery. Your mother would certainly have a fit if she saw you dressed so un-modestly.

“So…” You trailed off, “how do I look?” You twirled on your heel, your smile never faltering.

He unashamedly looked you up and down, twice, before one strong arm looped around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, caging you against him.

“Pardon my French, mademoiselle, but you look fuckin’ stunning.”

You giggled, hands resting against his chest to brace yourself against him. It was the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears; your laugh.

“Thank you, sir. Mother would scold me if she saw me dressed like this!” You giggled again when his nose came to nuzzle against your cheek, bristles in his beard gently scraping against your skin, “she would, my dearest. But don’t worry about any of that, okay? Tonight you will have the time of your life with me, and your mother will have no say in it.” He assured you.

—

You rode into town on horseback, Shadow moving swiftly with Joel steering her with the reins and you behind him with your arms wrapped around him, pressing yourself as close to his back as possible. You had never been to a tavern before, but tonight would certainly be a night of firsts.

Your first sips of Ale were with Joel by your side, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over, warm breath fanning your face as he asked you what you thought about the taste.

Truthfully? Ale was not your first drink of choice, but you had an understanding for the appeal of it. Joel agreed, and whispered in your ear that he thought it tasted like shit. His tone and crude remark sent you giggling in tandem.

Now, whiskey on the other hand? You enjoyed the smoky flavor that lingered on your tongue and the way it instantly sent a warm fire simmering in your belly, and heat to flood your cheeks. You danced, laughed, drank and you even played a hand of poker! No one in the tavern knew of your status, your wealth. Everyone in the rowdy establishment was just there living, and you silently wished for your life to always be this freeing.

When the tavern closed for the night, you and Joel strolled down the street, hand in hand. The late evening air held that familiar summer sweetness, crickets chirping, fireflies dancing around your heads. Another pair of lovers strolled in front of you and Joel, seemingly unable to keep their hands off of one another as they neared the town inn. Would that be you and your Joel?

His palm felt clammy in your palm, but his face gave no distinction that he was absolutely freaking the fuck out inside at the prospect of finally getting the privilege to press his lips to yours.

“Shadow is staying at the inn’s barn for the evening, my dearest. It’s far too late for either of us to return back to the estate…” he trailed off, eyes casting in your direction to await your response.

“Joel…” you sighed, loosening your grip around his hand, nearly dropping it entirely. “We—we have to go back. Father, mother—”

“My dearest, your mother has retired early for the evening, and your father is probably too deep in a hand of poker to even notice your absence.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing your entwined fingers up to his face, illuminated in a soft, warm glow from the flickering street lights lining the walkway. He brushed his lips against the outside of your hand, eyes locking onto yours, “I understand if you don’t desire me the way I desire you, my dearest. And if that is the case, we can leave immediately—”

“I—I desire you plenty, my Joel. All evening at the party, I kept seeing the resemblance of your beautiful face in every male passerby, but none of them were you. I’m just—I’m so afraid, Joel. My heart—it feels so deeply for you, but it’s forbidden. You and I both know the bitter truth of what we can never be.”

“My dearest, tonight we need not be afraid, okay? It is your birthday, your special day, and there is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, than here with you. I ask you for nothing, only to trust me. Trust your Joel.”

You could feel yourself caving into his words, your body drawn to be closer to him as if by some invisible force pulling you into his chest. “I trust you always, my Joel.”

He nodded, pressing another sweet kiss to the outside of your hand. You moved in sync, his strong, broad body caging you against the brick wall of the inn, his hands, calloused and warm, holding your face between them as if you were fine delicate china. His forehead came to rest upon yours, warm breath fanning your face, “can I kiss you, my dearest?”

“Please, my Joel.” You breathed out, fingers gently resting along the nape of his neck. “You—you will be my first.” You whispered.

“And you will be mine, my dearest.” He rasped, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, feeling his heartbeat faster, and faster, when his lips finally brushed upon your own, both of your inexperience showing, but nature took over when your lips finally met, pressing against one another. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around his soft curls, pulling him in closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, make a home inside of his heart and never leave.

“I—have never felt a sweetness upon my lips till I have kissed you, my dearest.” He murmured sweetly against your locked lips, taking the leap of what felt right when your lips parted like the narrow sea for him to slowly lick into your mouth so your tongues could meet, and dance.

An unexpected moan slipped past your lips when he licked into your mouth, a sound only for his ears, sending blood flowing southwards beneath his trousers and directly to his groin. He parted from the kiss momentarily, a string of translucent saliva hung between your swollen lips. He dived back in seconds later, but this time you felt his lips upon your neck, sucking, kissing, licking at your throat and all the way back up to your lips.

“I scraped up enough money to afford us a night at the inn, my dearest.” He let out a soft grunt when your nails lightly scratched his scalp, and your fingers tugged on the root of his curls, “do you wish to—”

“Yes, my Joel.” You didn’t even wait for him to finish his question, you already knew your answer was going to be yes.

He chuckled at your eagerness, letting his hands drop from your face and rest along your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, “lay beside me tonight, my love?”

“Yes, my Joel. I wish for that.”

He smiled into the kiss, the butterflies in his own stomach were no longer fluttering wildly, his nerves were gone because never in his life had he been more sure about his feelings till now. It was a moment of calm that both you and he felt in one another’s embrace. “Then let it be known that tonight, beneath the stars, I will make love to you, my dearest.” The words he spoke fell like a sweet oath upon your lips.

You kissed him once more, before your lips parted, but only for a little while. He took your hand in his, fingers entwined and led you to the entrance of the inn. The room was paid for, and the excitement was beginning to tingle once more as he unlocked the door to the room you would share. A single bed to accommodate you both.

And when he laid you down, fitting in the space between your thighs, kissing every inch of your untouched skin, drawing sounds from your throat that you had never felt, nor heard before. Calloused palms moved with languid ease, undressing you with methodical care. You did the same to him, marveling at the flex of his muscles beneath your touch. He was so gentle, so patient as you parted for him like a blooming flower. He kissed you there, too. Dark head of curls moving between your thighs, strong fingers spreading you open where his tongue quickly found the little bud that had your whole body quivering, and your back bowing, arching from the mattress.

He kissed, licked, worshiped, suckled on your womanhood, the taste of you was something so foreign, yet familiar, and his cock grew heavy between his thighs, hips rutting into the mattress for any form of relief.

Your speech was slurred, broken, fragmented moans dangling from your lips, and you were only able to say one word; his name.

Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

And when the coil in deep within your tummy was pulled tight, and a burning warmth that could only be described as the feeling of heaven on earth, traveled from the tips of your toes and up your spine, you convulsed around his tongue, eyes rolling back into your skull, muscles spasming, your cunt pulsing, leaking along the sheets. He lapped up every sweet drop of your release, swallowing it down as if he was quenched with thirst. His eyes opened, dark pools of brown staring intensely into yours, grinning like a devil. His chin and beard glistening in your sweet nectar, illuminated by the pale moonlight casting in through the thin, billowing curtains.

He kissed up your body, finding your lips and molding his tongue around yours so you could taste yourself, too. He whispered sweet nothings between kisses when the heavy weight of his cock slowly began to press into you. Tears sprung from the sudden sharp pain caused by the stretch of him easing inside of you. He kissed away your tears, shushing you softly and promising you that it would feel good so soon, my dearest.

Your nails left crescents in his back, thighs wrapping around his waist when he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing, hugging warmth. It was the tightest vice he ever did feel, and he never wanted to part from you.

“I’ve got you, my dearest.” He whispered upon your lips, drawing his hips back slowly, oh so slowly, before guiding them forward. The coarse dark hair on his pubic bone brushed against your own with each gentle thrust he gave you. A rhythm set in with his movements, your body naturally began to mold to his as you became one. Sweat soaked skin, tangled moans and limbs, wet kisses and words of love shared between what little space was left between you.

And when he spilled his seed deep within your womb, and he moaned your name, proclaiming his love and devotion for you with his face buried against your neck. You refused to part from one another, even as his cock softened inside of you, and your cunt no longer fluttered. You pressed your lips to his scruffy cheek, tangled your fingers through his now sweat soaked curls that were matted to his forehead and back of his neck. You held him, and he held you as the sun slowly began to rise, and the birds chirped cheerfully just outside the window.

“I don’t want to go home, my Joel. I want to stay here, with you…forever.” You whispered softly through the early morning air.

He shifted deep within you, lifting his chin and turned his cheek to the side, brushing his lips sweetly against your soft cheek. His eyes were sleepy, a dopey, boyish grin graced his features, lips curved in a perfect pout, swollen with your kisses, “I need not yet to part from you, my love. But I must return you home before your father and mother awake.”

You sighed softly, dropping your fingers from their grip on his hair to then drag across his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “our home, my Joel.” You gently reminded him.

He kissed you back, lashes fluttering shut to savor the moment before opening again so he could once again gaze upon your face and paint a picture in his memory to hold onto forever, “our home, my dearest.”

Reality began to rear its ugly head into both of your minds and he reluctantly parted from your kiss, drawing his hips back slowly to release his cock from your warmth. “We must return home, my dearest.” He sat back on his haunches, his softened cock wet, sticky with a mix of your combined releases and a thin layer of blood.

You slowly sat up, taking the coarse sheet with you as you gazed upon his groin for the first time. Even soft now, your sex induced eyes widened at the girth of him.

He, however, was more focused on the stain of blood on his skin, and swiped his thumb across it before his gaze landed on you, “have you…bled before, my sweet?”

You nodded, “yes, my Joel. I bleed the same time every month since my thirteenth birthday. Mother told me that it means I am ready to bear children, and I have become a woman. She told me that I would bleed again when my husband makes love to me for the first time.”

His chin falls between his shoulders, feeling them sink from the realization that he would never be your husband, and you would never be his wife. “Does it hurt…to bleed? Did I hurt you, my love?”

You shook your head, letting the sheets drop from your chest as you reached out to comfort him. “No, my love. It can be uncomfortable, but you did not hurt me. A dull sting is all I felt, nothing more. You took care of me.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as you emerged from under the covers, “my dearest, what is to happen if…you end up bearing my children? We are both so young, I wish not to steal what remains of your youth. You deserve so much more than only what is expected of you, my lady.”

You found yourself straddling his hips with your thighs on either side of him, caging his body around yours while his arms wrapped around your waist, using his core strength to stay upright as your hands came to rest upon his face, “if I bear your children, then we could marry, Joel. We could—be together!” You spoke excitedly.

“My dearest, I—have nothing to offer you. I am penniless…we are not of the same status, and your mother and father would never allow it.” His thumbs gently stroked the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine.

“I will speak with my father! He will understand, he must! No man will ever wish to marry me if I am bearing another’s child! Father—he’ll have to agree!”

“My dearest, what if my seed doesn’t take to your womb the first time? What if we are unable—”

You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, pulling him in close with your hand resting along the nape of his neck, “then we keep trying till my womb is swelling with life.”

He kissed you deeply, feeling his cock begin to stir to life between your tightly pressed bodies. He nodded, a silent agreement as he dropped one hand from where it rested against your spine and dragged it between you so that he could grasp the base of his cock and slowly press himself inside of you once more.

By the time you and Joel arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to rise high above the sky. The stables were empty upon your arrival as Joel helped you dismount from Shadow. He urged you to change back into your attire that you wore to the party so that your mother, nor father would raise their suspicions. You parted ways with a kiss, a longing behind his lips as he watched you leave his embrace and walk back into the life you had always known.

At the breakfast table your mother was quick to question why you were not present in your chambers at sunrise, but you already had a rehearsed script planned in your mind. Without missing a beat, you told the story of how you had a few too many flutes of champagne, and fell asleep in the gardens.

Your mother, of course, scolded you, but your father? He had a hidden, knowing smile playing beneath his mustache.

You and Joel were extremely cautious and strategic when it came to planning your rendezvous. They happened frequently, under the cover of night when everyone was sleeping. Sometimes in the stables, sometimes in the gardens, and you even returned to the inn a few times in secret. He could not get enough of you, your kisses, or your touch. The feeling was mutual, and you both knew that the deep, profound feelings you were both experiencing was not infatuation or lust, no, you and Joel Miller were madly, deeply, tragically in love with one another.

Even in the daytime he would seek your presence, asking your father if he could accompany you on a ride through the countryside as your guide, and protector. You had picnics by the river where he would lay his head upon your skirts, eyes closed blissfully as he listened to you read love stories from Shakespeare till he would drift off, soft snores escaping his lips, your voice lulling him to a sweet slumber. Your horses would graze side by side, his stallion, your mare. Their tails swishing to fight off the pesky flies.

Upon the approach of your eighteenth birthday, you wept in Joel’s arms, for no matter how many times he spilled his seed inside of you, your womb did not swell with life; his child. You feared that his love for you would sour and rot when you broke the mournful news to him beneath comfort of the shimmering moon, and twinkling stars.

“My dearest, why do you weep? Who, or what has caused my sweet love to shed her tears?” He sank to his knees with you crumbling in his arms. His heart felt like it was being shredded to fragmented pieces when your sobs echoed off the nearby hedges in the garden where your embrace was hidden.

“My Joel!” You cried, clawing at his arms with fat, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks, “I—I’m so sorry. I have let you down, my love.”

“My dearest, how have you let me down? Tell me what is wrong! What has happened?” He spoke urgently, tone hushed.

“My womb does not swell with life, Joel! We have tried, and tried! No matter how many times, it has been fruitless! I bear you no sons, no daughters—” you wailed mournfully.

“My sweet, are you certain of this? Oh, my girl…” he felt his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he began to gently rock you in his arms. “Do you weep in sadness, or in fear? I do not care that you cannot bear me any children, my dearest. My love for you will never sour.”

“Do not lie to me, lover!” You were on the edge of snapping through your tears, “when my sole purpose in this life is to marry and bear children to my husband! There must be something wrong with me, Joel! How can you say you love me when I cannot be the woman I am expected to be! I never can fucking—”

You surprised yourself and him by your sudden crude language, but then again, spending as much time as you did with Joel, his verbiage began to rub off on you, and yours onto him.

“Then don’t be the woman you are expected to be, my love! There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you as you are! You are my lady, for fucks sakes! You can be whoever you want to be with me! Do you wish to be a poet? Be one! Do you wish to be a scholar? A singer? Do you wish to live a normal life where your choices are not already chosen for you?!” His voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse rasp deep from within his chest.

You fought the urge to scoff and chide him for being so naive. “My life will never be normal! Don’t you understand?! All I know is what has been chosen for me! It doesn’t matter what I want, Joel! I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth! My studies, my thoughts, opinions, have all been predisposed! Even the fucking food I consume, and the clothing on my back has been chosen for me!”

“Of course I understand! All I have ever done is understand that you and I were never cut from the same cloth! And yet, I love you all the same because what else is a man to do? My sweet, we are weeks away from your eighteenth birthday! We can run away together and carve out the life of our choosing! Fuck your parents, fuck the society we live in! Do you want to marry a man you don’t love and live in misery?! Or do you want the chance to live! To wake up at your choosing, to wear what you desire, to love freely with no prejudice? To never again live under your parents control? Don’t you want to…love me?” He was exasperated, chest heaving, nostrils flaring from the pure passion oozing from his words.

You fell silent, your lower lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears as you looked into his eyes, taking in the redness in his cheeks, the puffing of his chest—the love pooling in his dark irises, “of course I want to love you, my Joel. I—I’m afraid! Can’t you see that? I’m expected to marry and bear my husband's children and now I cannot! If we run away together, I’ll never be able to return home! What if our love isn’t destined to make it! What if we fail—”

“Of course I can see you’re afraid, my girl. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice! You are safe here, with me. With your Joel! I would never, ever, ever let anything happen to you. We may not live a life of riches, but we would live a life rich in love! I—I can get a job! I will work until my bones break if it means that I get to be with you. I’ll work the railways, the mines! Any job that I can take, I will, and I’ll do it all for you.”

You kissed him then, tasting the salt from your own tears and his upon your locked lips. “We’ll move west! As far west as we can! We’ll see the ocean for the first time, plot out our land and live out our days together!” You murmured against his lips.

“California.” He promised you, kissing you deeply as his hands came to cradle your face, “a sheep ranch with Shadow and Sunfyre.”

“Why sheep, lover?” You asked softly between desperation filled kisses,

“They’re quiet, do as they're told.” He teased, chuckling when you gently swatted at his chest for making such a comment.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You giggled, which soon turned into a moan when his fingers slipped down to your waist and hastily began to unlace your bodice, while your hand drifted downwards to undo the string on his trousers. Neither of you knew that one of your own ladies, the same lady that had been promised to Joel by your father, caught the two of you in the gardens while she was out for a midnight stroll. Her presence was undetected as you sank down around Joel’s cock beneath your skirts, moaning his name unashamedly as your entwined bodies moved in sync.

June 1st, 1844

“Yes, mother.” You responded in a practiced, complacent sweetness to appease her.

“He will make a fine husband to you, one day.” She added, her perfectly dainty fingers came to rest upon your shoulder, squeezing it with anything but a comforting touch. She didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered on your secret lover, nor did she sense your longing.

“Yes, he will, mother. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

“Good. You have grown into being a fine young woman, daughter. Your father and I are so very proud of you.”

If only they knew that you were not the perfect, proper lady than they believed you to be, and that your heart belonged to another man.

Your Joel had requested a private audience with your father leading up to the festivities surrounding your monumental birthday. And so after bringing the horses in from the pasture, he made his way to your fathers office, closing the door quietly behind him when he was given permission to enter.

“Sir, I have wonderful news to bestow upon you, Shadow is expectin’. She was showin’ early signs a few weeks back, but it is official.”

“Wonderful news indeed, Joel. And who is the lucky stud?” Your father asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Sunfyre, sir.”

“Ahh. What a combination. A filly, as black as the night, and a colt, as golden as the sun. I wonder what their offspring will look like.” He mused.

Joel swallowed the lump growing in his throat, his palms growing clammier by the second. He took a deep breath to calm his budding nerves, “Sir, I need to disclose something to you, but before I do, I just wanted to say that I have appreciated being able to confide in you in some capacity. I am grateful that you have taken me under your wing and offered me the chance at having a better life, but your daughter—”

“Joel.” He warned, leaning forward in his chair with his hands clasped together. “Be extremely careful with your choice in words for whatever it is you are about to tell me. Perhaps I need to remind you where your place is? Maybe I should have been wary of confiding in you, boy.”

“Sir, please. You must hear this! If you care about your daughter's happiness, and her well being, you will listen to what I have to say. I swear that our conversations have remained confidential! I have spoken about them to no one, I swear it!”

Your father let out a deep sigh, bringing his hands to his face where he pressed the pads of his fingers into the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. “Go on then.”

“Your daughter—she is unable to bear children. She is afraid of what is to become of her if she cannot bear children for her future husband, sir. And I fear for her as well! Sir, men are unkind, and she is sweet. She is sweet and kind and deserving—”

Your fathers heart slowly began to sink, his composure crumbled because of his darling little girl, who would certainly face a life of hardship and misery if you could not bear children and enact your duties as a perfect wife for your husband. He didn’t agree with it, but that was how society worked. Men ruled the house, and the women cared for their husbands and children. “How do you know of this, Joel?” Your fathers tone wavered, his eyes casting in Joel’s direction and he saw a younger version of himself in your forbidden lover.

“Sir, you know the answer to your own question.” Joel nearly whispered, avoiding direct eye contact and let his gaze fall to a portrait behind your fathers desk, two young men with their arms around one another’s shoulders.

“You love her, don’t you?” His question hung heavy in the air.

Joel froze like a deer that was inevitably caught by hunters in the meadow. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think as he listened to the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his pulse pounding, “with all of my heart, sir.”

Your father slowly nodded his head in understanding as he let out a sigh, “then you must know that you have to swallow down your feelings for my daughter for her benefit and your own. You are playing a dangerous game, Joel. One that could very well cost you your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. I have never loved another being outside of your daughter. Our love may be frowned upon and forbidden, but it is real. I have felt for her since I was just a mere boy, when the storm was raging outside and she accompanied me to see the birth of Dahlia’s foal. My love for her will never sour, it will never over ripen and rot like the low hanging fruit upon the trees. I have nothing to offer her but my heart, and that holds a weight more valuable than gold or silver.”

Your father smiled, one that did not reach his eyes as he slowly stood from his chair behind his desk and walked in front of it. “You remind me so much of my younger self, Joel. Willing to do anything for the person you love. Despite all the odds being stacked against you.”

Joel took a hesitant step back, the heel of his boot nearly catching along the rug, “do not patronize me, sir. I love your daughter, and nothing will stop me from loving her. Even after death, my love for her will remain.”

“Of course nothing will stop you, Joel. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He smiled sadly, a look of longing hidden behind his eyes. Joel knew the look all too well.

“I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you have to swear you will never utter to anyone. It is a secret that you must take to your grave, Joel. You cannot even tell my daughter. Are we clear?”

“I swear I will not tell a single soul, sir. Not even your daughter will know.”

“Good, I trust you. You have a good heart, Joel.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Your father reached for his box of cigars, silently offering one to Joel who politely declined. It had been many, many, years since your father spoke about his past, and while he lit the end of the cigar, those memories began to surface. “I meant what I said when I told you that you remind me of my younger self.”

Joel nodded in understanding.

“When I was your age, the world was at my fingertips, Joel. It was my oyster, and I could have any lady of my choosing, but I had to marry. That was my parents one rule upon me was that I had to marry.”

“You could have any lady of your choosing, but it wasn’t a lady that held your affections, was it, sir?”

“No. It was not a lady that held my affections.”

“The man…in the portrait behind your desk, was he your…?”

“Yes, Joel. The man in the portrait was my lover. The butler's son nonetheless. I of course tried to appease my parents and court the finest lady in town, but my heart longed for my lover. We were going to run away together, Joel. It was all planned out, and I was ready to throw away my old life for him. It was, and still is taboo and forbidden to lay with the same sex. We were careful, until I came to him with the grave news that I would have to marry, and that we could no longer be together. He was angry, I was angry, we got reckless, and one night we were caught.”

“By…the lady of the house? Your now wife?”

He nodded, leaning back against the front of his desk, “yes, she was the one who caught us in the act, in my chambers. She screamed so loud, as if she was witnessing a murder! I begged her to keep her voice down but she wouldn’t listen. She was disgusted with me, and proclaimed that I would rot in eternal hell for the sins I committed.”

“What happened…to your lover, sir?”

“My own father nearly beat my lover to death in front of me. I was forced to watch the life drain from his eyes. I begged and begged for him to stop, to let him live! Maybe he would have, if it wasn’t for the lady of the house to spread a rumor that the butler's son came onto me against my will. My father didn’t want to believe that his son was a fairy, and so my lover was sentenced to hang. I visited him for the very last time when he was shackled, malnourished, and begging for death to take him. I stayed with him all night, praying that the sun would never rise. The following morning I was forced to watch him hang. Every single spectator in the crowd, except for me, cheered for the death of another fairy!” He used the back of his hand to swiftly wipe at his eyes when his tears began to well and roll down his cheeks.

“He was buried in an unmarked grave and I went through with marrying the lady of the house. I wasn’t given another choice, and on the night of our wedding, she whispered to me that she knew the truth, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail me for it.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Your lover—you, I’m so sorry. I do not understand why people are so cruel and hateful. Love is love, is it not?”

“Please do not sympathize with me, Joel. I do not seek your sympathy. I am telling you this because if you do not swallow your feelings for my daughter, you will surely face the same fate that my lover did! Don’t you understand? She has been promised to another. She meets with the banker's son tonight and in time, they will be married. It is her duty and expectation. And you will have the choice to marry the lady I have chosen for you. Your love for my daughter will fade, and you will be grateful that it did.”

“How dare you! How dare you stand there—you coward! You could have been with your lover now if you had run away together! You had the opportunity, and didn’t seize it?! Don’t stand there and claim that my love for your daughter will fade, when yours for your dead lover has not! You stand there, weeping for him! Your life could have been different—”

Crack

Your fathers cruel fist made direct contact with Joel’s beautiful nose, the force of impact sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his face in despair as blood trickled and dripped between the grooves of his fingers, staining the golden threaded hearthrug in splotches of crimson.

“Get the fuck out of my office. It is clear that you have forgotten your place, boy. You will never marry the likes of my daughter.”

Joel retreated through the office doors with what remained of his dignity. He confided in your father purely out of trust, and he thought it was a mutual feeling. For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, you did not see your Joel.

The banker’s son was polite, well-mannered, but goodness—was he a bore. You had no interest in hearing him drone on about the stock market in New York City. He didn’t bother to ask you about you, or your interests as they were already predisposed by your mother.

Fucking cunt.

He strolled with you in the gardens with your hand lightly grasping onto his elbow. Your eyes wandered off, in search for that familiar stature, and head of distinguishable dark curls as you passed by the stables, but your Joel was nowhere to be found. Your heart sank and you asked the banker’s son, Timothy, if he would mind giving you a moment of privacy in the garden's gazebo. He obliged, but not before he could press an affectionate kiss to the outside of your hand. The bristles in his perfectly groomed mustache tickled your skin before he reluctantly pulled away.

You let out a sigh of relief, your posture returning to a relaxed state as you watched him walk back towards the festivities inside. When you were certain that he was not lingering, you began to nervously pace the short distance inside of the gazebo, muttering about how Joel would never just leave you like this, would he?

Where the fuck was he?

Then you heard it, the groaning of the tired wood beneath his boots, and that warm, deep rasp in his voice. “My dearest.” He croaked, and you immediately knew something was wrong, something had happened. His voice sounded far more nasally, and when you turned around to face him, that’s when you noticed the dry, crusted blood beneath his fractured nose, the rusted blood stains in his white shirt. You ran to him, delicately cradling his beautiful face in your palms.

“My Joel!” You cried, “what has happened? Who has done this to you! Your nose—your beautiful nose!”

“Hush, my darling. It’s—just a fracture, lover. It will heal.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, his hands slowly coming to rest around your waist. “It does not matter who did this to me, my dearest.”

“How can you say such a thing? Joel, please, my love, who did this to you?” You softly begged, thumbs gently stroking the scruff speckled on his strong jaw.

“Your father.” He murmured, bitterness laced in his words.

“What?” You murmured in disbelief, dropping your hands from his face, refusing to believe it. “Why would he do such a thing to you! Joel, please, please tell me what happened!”

“My love, please promise you will not hate me for what I am about to utter. Swear to me that you won’t.” He pleaded, tightening his grip around your waist in fear that you would slip between his fingers like grains of sand.

“I swear it.”

“He knows about us, my dearest. He knows that I love you, and you love me. He knows that you cannot bear children because I am the one who confided in him this afternoon. I did it in hopes that he would understand, and stop the banker's son from courting you tonight. I—I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to run away, and we would be accepted as lovers!”

“Oh Joel, they will never accept us! You stupid, stupid, beautiful little fool.” You sniffled sadly, feeling your tears oncoming. “You are too good for this world and everyone in it! Your heart is made of pure gold, and I love you for it, but now you have put yourself in grave danger! That was so fucking stupid of you to do, lover.”

“My sweet, I may be a fool, but what else is a man to do when he is in love? Your father knows, yes, but now we must seize our opportunity to leave, tonight! The party is in full swing, is it not? No one will notice your absence, my dearest. If we don’t leave tonight, I fear we will never have another chance at eternal happiness.”

You swallow down your tears, melting into his embrace and his words. “The banker’s son waits for me inside, it will be suspicious if I do not return to him within the hour…” you trailed off.

“Are you having your doubts, my love?”

“No, no! Of course not. I am in fear that we will be caught if we aren’t careful, my Joel. I will return to him and you will go to my chambers. Lock the doors and do not open them for anyone. Take the back entrance, through the kitchens! No one will see you, I swear it.” You reached for his hands on your waist, interlocking your fingers through his.

“And you? I cannot fathom thinking of the banker’s son touching—”

“My Joel, please do not allow your thoughts to sour. I am expected to dance with him and when the timing is right, I will come find you. I promise.”

He nodded, bringing your clasped hands up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles, wincing from the dull ache in his nose.

“Together?” He murmured, eyes locking onto yours.

“Always.”

You parted ways after he kissed you, promising you that all this pain would be worth it in the end, and of course, you believed him, for what else is a girl to do when she is in love?

You returned to Timothy’s side, assuring him that you just needed to be alone with your thoughts. He was an understanding man, and you could understand why your father assumed that he would be a perfect match for you, but no one would ever be your Joel. And while you danced, and made small talk with him and his friends, Joel was making his way through the kitchens, ducking into one of the main hallways, muscle memory guiding him the way to your chambers, but unbeknownst to him, he was being followed.

It was a quarter to midnight and your lover could hear the party growing rowdier by the minute even behind your locked doors. He grew weary, doubts settling into his mind that perhaps you had forgotten him. Perhaps you were having a good time with the fucking bankers son. His spirits lifted when he heard the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He sprung up from the edge of your perfectly made up bed, heart racing in his chest when the doors opened.

His face fell, blood running ice cold when the person revealed behind the door was not you, but the lady who was promised to him by your father. He took a step back, palms growing clammy.

“How did I know that you would be lingering in her chambers, Joel?” She closed the doors behind her and locked them for good measure. “What would her father say if he knew you were in here…hmm?”

“You fucking followed me here, didn’t you, Lady Florence?” He seethed, feeling like an animal trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Because you were promised to me, or have you forgotten?” She cocked a brow in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I never approached you. Never even attempted to court you. Just because her father promised me to you, doesn’t fucking mean shit until actions are taken after words.” He snapped.

“I suppose, but then again, you’re in a not so favorable position, Joel. Trespassing after hours, and in his daughter's chambers nonetheless? I’m almost certain you would hang for such a crime.” She mused, stepping closer to where he had tucked himself nearly into a corner closest to the window. “Perhaps he would love to hear how I caught you and his daughter fucking in the gardens a few weeks back. How truly reckless of you both.” She tsked.

He scoffed at her attempt at blackmailing him in such a petty way. “Your threats are made in vain. Her father already knows about my love for his daughter. He’s well aware, and you look fucking desperate and pathetic at your attempt to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail you? Joel, you have me all wrong!” She laughed, “I don’t have the heart to blackmail you!”

“Then what the fuck do you call what you just attempted to do, hmm? Don’t take me for a fool! You are nothing but a jealous little—”

“Joel? It’s me, my love. I don’t have my key…someone must have nicked it!” You whispered through the outside of the closed door, looking around the vacant hallway anxiously. “Are you in there?”

He strode past Florence, shoulder checking her on his way to the door and quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside before closing and locking it again.

Your eyes landed on his face, and then trailed over his shoulder to Florence, one of your ladies, who you had believed up until this point was loyal, and not a conniving little—

“Lady Florence? What are you doing in my chambers? What is going on?!”

Joel reached for bare forearm with a gentle grip to pull you back. “My dearest, it isn’t what you think! Lady Florence is the one who nicked your key and followed me to your chambers! She cornered me, threatened me with blackmail, and claimed that she caught you and I in the gardens weeks ago!”

“Is this true?” You felt saddened, betrayed, and disappointed. “Flo, how could you do such a thing to me? I thought we were friends!”

“My lady—he lies! I never would steal from you, he is the one to corner me! He sought me out, forcing me into your chambers—” she lied between her teeth, digging herself in a graver hole than she was planning.

“LIAR!” you yelled, ripping your arm from Joel’s grasp, “he would never lay a hand on a lady, nor pressure her! You speak only of lies Florence!”

“Lover! We do not have the time for this! We have to go, we have to go now!” Joel urged you from behind, reaching for your arm again. “She isn’t worth it! Please, we must—”

And then you heard your fathers voice booming down the hall. Your biggest fear was coming true, and now there was nowhere for you or Joel to hide when the doors bursted open, the locking mechanism snapping in half from the force of your father.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.

Lady Florence, being the snake in the grass that she was, immediately flocked to your fathers side. “Sir! You arrived just in time!” She said exasperatedly, “Your daughter was in her chambers freshening up and I went to go check on her, being the good friend that I am, when I heard her dreadful scream! I came upon the heinous crime of the filthy stable hand taking your daughter against her will!” She wept her crocodile tears. “He threatened to—”

Your father wasn’t buying it for he knew that Florence was a terrible liar, and a rotten friend. “Lady Florence, this does not concern you. Return to the party immediately, and speak this to no one.”

“But sir—”

“GET OUT!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She narrowed her eyes at both you and Joel before slinking out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

You immediately stepped in front of Joel, silently vowing to protect him no matter what would happen, you would not allow your father to harm another hair upon your lover's head.

“Daddy, please, I love him! Please, let us be! I know it goes against what is expected of me, but Joel is a good man! He has only ever been good to me, father!”

“Your mother will never allow it, daughter. All Joel has done is tempted you and filled your head with fantasies! You have been promised to the banker's son and that is final! You think of me to be cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you!”

“I do not care what you think is best for me, father! I do not want to marry the banker's son! I wish to be happy with my one love, and I do not care if that means that you and mother will exile me! I do not care that it means I will no longer live a life of riches! I am rich in love and happiness with him by my side!”

Your father ignored your pleas, even when you clung to his arm and dug your heels in the ground to stop him from advancing towards Joel. “Please, father! Please! I am begging you to leave him be!” You cried, and your words were caught in your throat when the backside of your fathers ring clad hand made swift contact with your cheek, sending you tumbling to the floor in shock. All Joel could see was red behind his eyes when your fathers hand made contact with your cheek. He sprung into action, but your father, despite his age, was quick, ready for Joel’s attack.

“YOU DARE FUCKIN’ LAY A HAND ON HER?!” Your lover yelled with a rage you had never heard leave his lips, “I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A HAND UPON HER AGAIN!”

Your father used Joel’s rage to his advantage, letting the younger man assume he had control of the situation when he was shoved against your tall, wooden chifferobe.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cried, “BOTH OF YOU, PLEASE STOP!”

In your moment of distress, Joel was distracted for a millisecond too long when your fathers fist connected with Joel’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed another hit, and then another, weakening Joel enough that he crumbled to his knees, bringing his arms over his head to block out the fists raining down upon him.

Your father was relentless, grabbing your lover by the back of his neck, yanking it upwards so he was forced to look up at the older man from his knees. He bent down to his level, getting close to his ear and whispered only for him to hear “I warned you this would end badly if you weren’t careful, boy.”

Joel spit a mixture of congealed blood and saliva directly onto his face, spattering it in speckles of crimson. “Fuck you, you coward.” He hissed between gritted teeth.

Your fathers fist trembled, his hand surely was broken, but all he could think about was how he was forced to watch his own lover be beaten in the same fashion, and now he was on the delivering end of it. “Get out.” He seethed. “Leave the property before lady Florence runs her large mouth to the lady of the house and spreads a false rumor about you and my daughter. Leave before I change my mind, Joel.”

Defeat; complete and utter defeat is all Joel Miller felt in his bones when your father released him with a rough shove to the ground. He struggled to sit up, coughing up more blood, and when you attempted to crawl to his side, your father grasped your elbow and yanked you to the door.

your fading screams of his name echoed down the hall as your father dragged you further and further away.

Bruised, beaten, and feeling hopeless, Joel Miller forced himself to his feet and obeyed your fathers word to leave while he still had the chance. He felt like a coward now, but what else could he do? If he stayed, surely he would face the gallows for a crime that he didn’t commit. Lady Florence had infact gone to run her big mouth to the lady of the house, claiming that Joel Miller raped you in your bed chambers. It was of course a fabricated lie, and only lady Florence, Joel, your father, and you knew the truth.

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealousy drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel

Unspecified date.

My Joel,

I write this to you in secret. My words are only for your eyes, and when you receive my letter, tell no one, my lover. Father is angry, so very angry, and mother only speaks of hate towards you. She is determined to make me press charges against you to hang for a crime you did not commit! Father won’t stand for it and instead we have abandoned the estate, left all of our belongings including our dear horses! They will not tell me where we are going, but I miss you terribly, my Joel. My brothers have been free to marry by their choosing, but I? I cannot. It’s rather cruel, isn’t it? To be given one life and since birth, since I first opened my eyes and gazed upon the new world, my choice has been stolen from my grasp. Oh, my Joel, you speak in sorrows, but the fault lands upon my shoulders. I’m so sorry, lover. I should have been more careful and discreet with our planned rendezvous. I deeply loathe Lady Florence for spying upon us! You are right of her jealousy, and now she claims to be remorseful! Oh, I feel your lips now. Your kiss, your touch upon my skin. My love for you has not weakened, I promise. Hold my words close to your heart, my Joel. I fear I will not be able to write to you again, but I will try, for you. My Joel, you are in my thoughts, always.

You have my heart,

Your Dearest.

January 1848, one hour after dusk

The decision to leave Texas and travel to New York to stop yours and the banker’s son’s wedding could quite possibly be the last thing that Joel Miller would ever do. But how could he sleep at night knowing that you were out there, somewhere in the city, thousands of miles away. You had not written to him in so long, but that didn’t deter him from following his heart back to you. He couldn’t fathom life without you in it any longer, and what else is a man to do when he is in love?

That’s how he found himself in the familiar stables, the horses peeking their heads out from their stalls and nickering softly to him in greeting. He kept the single letter you wrote to him safely tucked away in the pocket of his coat, rucksack thrown over his shoulder with what little belongings he possessed. After a new family moved into your home he was given a higher title, a warm bed to sleep in, and he could have married his new boss's daughter and lived a comfortable, happy life, but he declined, for she would never be you, his dearest. Despite turning down every single one of her affections, she still lingered, hoping that one day she would be good enough for his affections and heart.

He was frantically tacking up Sunfyre, cinching up the girth when the barn doors creeped open and Phoebe, his boss’s daughter appeared.

“Joel?” She whispered through the cool evening air, lantern in hand to peer into the low-lit stalls, “what…are you doing?”

He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from the girth and turned around to face her, “lady Phoebe, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out after hours.”

“Neither should you.” She chastised. “Where are you going at this hour, Joel?”

“My lady, that is none of your business. Please, return home. Forget that you ever saw me.”

“You’re going after her, aren’t you? Joel, it’s been years, and she has only written back to you once! It’s in all the papers that she is marrying the banker's son. You could be happy here, with me.” She whispered the last bit, feeling her heart ache for a man who would never feel the same for her.

“Lady Phoebe, “You are a dear friend to me, but I cannot love you, for my heart belongs to another.”

“But I can love you, Joel. I’m right here! She is thousands of miles away and—”

“She is my love, my one true love, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow my heart. Your heart sings for me, but it’s not my tune to hear. You will belong to another, I promise.” He moved from Sunfyre’s side, grasping Phoebe's hands gently in his calloused palms, “you have to let me, and what could never be between us go.”

May 6th, 1848

My Joel, if you’re out there…please, please come find me, lover.

Your Joel wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was supposed to find you in a city as large as New York City. All he knew is that today you were expected to marry the banker’s son, and he would be damned if he didn’t stop this wedding from happening. He asked nearly every passbery in the street if they knew where the biggest wedding of the month would be taking place. It took less time than expected to find his answer, and once he did, he rented the finest suit that he could afford, tucked the ring box safely in his suit pocket, and rode to the chapel.

The wedding bells were already beginning to sweetly chime, and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. Was he too late? He would never forgive himself if he was.

“If anyone here, in this room objects to the unifying marriage between this man and woman, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant spoke at the head of the altar, just as the doors leading into the chapel burst open.

“I OBJECT!” Joel’s familiar voice boomed up the aisle. Hushed murmurs, and surprised gasps echoed throughout the chapel when your eyes landed upon your Joel. All time ceased as you dropped Timothy’s hands, racing down the aisle, the train of your perfectly fitted wedding dress dragged behind you.

Tears flooded your eyes as you threw yourself into your lover's embrace, clinging to him in disbelief with your hands cradling his face. “MY JOEL, YOU CAME FOR ME!”

“Of course I did, my dearest. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He murmured, unable to truly process all the feelings he was experiencing at once. But what did it truly matter? The time apart was years, but it was all worth it leading up to this moment.

Your father was already making his way down the aisle, followed by your mother and Timothy when Joel grasped your hand tightly in his and whisked you down the aisle towards the exit. He wasn’t going to let them take you away from him again, not this time.

His grip on your hand did not loosen at the harsh sound of your fathers voice, and even when you were running down the chapel steps in unison, he did not let go until you and him were safely tucked behind a wall of a building, out of sight from the wedding party.

He kept you safely caged against the wall, a burst of memories from the night of firsts that you shared together all those years ago. “My dearest,” he breathed, “I thought I was too late! I thought the wedding already happened and you—”

“My Joel, I—I never thought I would see you again! I only ever received your single letter and I thought that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about me!”

“What?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing every inch of your skin there. “My Dearest, I wrote to you many, many times! Did you receive all of my letters? I thought the same! I thought you forgot about your Joel.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck! I bet it was mother, or father! I bet they were keeping your letters from me, lover! Maybe they thought that if I believed you had forgotten me, I would be more inclined to marry the banker’s son!”

“I would believe that to be true, my sweet. But none of that matters, okay? I’m here now. Your Joel is here, and I will never leave your side again.”

“I-I can’t believe you’re here! Oh, my Joel, I’m so sorry—for everything! I have not stopped thinking about you all these years, I swear it. My heart only has ever belonged to you. I wear his ring, but it means nothing to me!”

“Shh, my love. I know, I know. My heart has only ever belonged to you, my dearest. Only to you. Fuck his ring. I will remove it from your finger so you never have to gaze upon it again.” He rasped, gently grabbing your left hand, scoffing at the enormous rock on your ring finger. “And I will replace it with my own.”

“Please, my Joel.”

He slipped the banker’s son’s ring off of your finger, tucking it into his pocket before he pulled out his own ring box, revealing a smaller, dainter ring beneath the velvet cover.

“It’s not much, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t grace your finger with the largest diamond the world has ever seen, but—I love you, dearest. I came all this way because I couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of losing you to another. I have never loved another soul as I do you, and while I don’t have riches to offer you, shiny carriages, silver platters, I have my heart and I know that it’s worth something to you, darlin.’”

He slipped his ring onto your finger, where it always belonged, and then you finally kissed him, your lips meeting in gentle brush before he surged forward, kissing you with everything that he had to offer. He believed that he was hallucinating, that he was back in Texas, longing for you in his empty bed. But you were here, you were real beneath his fingertips as he licked sweetly into your mouth, hands splayed around your waist, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, my Joel.” You murmured against his lips.

“Only because the lady that wears it is the most beautiful in the entire world. Sunfyre is waiting for us down the street. We can go as far east, west, wherever your heart desires. I will love you eternally, and no one will ever keep us apart, my dearest. I swear it.”

“Let’s go home, my Joel. To Texas. Take me home.”

And so he did, for what else is a man to do when he is in love?

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hsdiaries · 19 days

Text

The Secret Spot

5.1k words

Golfrry, quick escalation, shy Harry into vocal Harry, oral m recieving, p in v, quickie situation.

I didn’t edit this at all, just written in a whim lol.

“Cassie! You’ve been assigned to a party today!” Martin called out as he walked through the locker room handing everyone their assignment slips. I brushed my hair up into a ponytail high on my head so I could slip my visor on.

“Is it a big one?” I said, pulling out my white apron and tying it around my waist, slipping in my small order pad and favorite green pen with the small golf ball topper. It was always a conversation started with the club members; and conversations always led to good tips.

“It's a small three person party, I heard it's a big name, haven’t confirmed who yet - you'll have to pick up your slip at the front desk. It's a bit hush hush.” He shrugged and I nodded, making sure my shoes were tied properly as my friend Kyle came up to me.

“Hush hush, huh? I hope for your sake he’s hot,” He smirked, pushing all his weight onto his left hip. Whoever thought it was a good idea to let Kyle interact with the older men at the golf club had no idea how many sugar daddies he would end up by his second week on the job.

“Kyle, sweetie, I don’t need them to be good looking to get good tips, I just need them to have heavy pockets,” I said standing up straight and slamming my locker shut. Pushing him out of the way gently with my shoulder I made my way out of the room heading out to the front desk.

“Be a good whore!” I heard him call out, making me shake my head and laugh. The lunch time crowd was beginning to flow in quickly; lunch time was the prime time to have a shift, people hardly ever wanted to let go of these shifts for that reason. Small waves were thrown my way from the usual crowd, I made sure to make note of my usuals, sending them extra greetings especially since I wouldn’t be assisting them today. As I approached the front desk, Cedric, the club manager spotted me, perking up instantly.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little waitress,” he smiled, eyes back on the computer screen in front of him.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little boss. I heard I have a part assigned today?” Leaning on the front desk, I reached over the counter, grabbing a mint packaged in the signature green of the Ocean Wells Country Club, earning me a soft smack on the hand. I pulled the mint to my chest, quickly opening it and popping it in my mouth, Cedric rolling his eyes.

“Yes actually, and I’m sure you will thank me for it. I had to pick wisely and my soul told me you would be the only one to not act like a crazed fan girl when I told you who you would be serving today,” I watched as the small slip printer started printing out our usual assignment slips, he quickly ripped it off the machine and slid it across the front desk to me.

Raising an eyebrow, I slowly picked up the slip and looked it over, my eyes widening at the sight of the names on the slip.

Niall Horan

Harry Styles

Mitch Rowland

I looked up at him, jaw slightly dropped, “You’re fucking joking right?”

“Nope, not a joke at all. As a matter of fact, they are walking in at this very second,” he smiled, pointing his chin in the direction of the front door. My body seemed to turn quicker than my head, but once it followed, my eyes were instantly drawn to Harry. He was wearing a navy sweater over a slightly brighter blue dress shirt, matching slacks and brown golf shoes. He has recently cut his hair, a frenzy in the media, but it had grown out to perfection, short on the sides, a swoop of curls wanting to remake their appearance on the front. His face was perfectly layered with growing facial hair, it made him look so mature and well cultured. He looked like money, and well, he was. It wasn’t until they were almost in front of me that I noticed the three of them had made their way to the front desk - and that I had been staring like a gawky girl in love.

I quickly cleared my throat and turned to face Cedric who chuckled a bit as I made myself busy organizing the business cards on the desk, chewing on the mint in my mouth. I felt their presence next to me soon after, Niall standing the closest to me, Harry doing most of the speaking for the party.

“Hello, we had reservations under Styles?” He said kindly, his voice so soft spoken and kind. I didn’t expect anything less if I was being honest.

“Yes, Mr. Styles, Mr. Horan and Mr. Rowland, we are all ready for you. You have been assigned to start on the left, two golf carts have been assigned, one for you and one for your caddies. Your personal waitress, Cassie here, will also have her own cart to bring drinks, cigars, food and any other desired items here at the club,” Cedric spoke, his hand gesturing over to me, causing all three men to turn their eyes to me. Each smiled, making eye contact, but only Harry’s lingered just a moment longer than the rest.

“Nice to meet you all, I’m here for whatever you may need, even making sure that the other isn't cheating,” I smirked, making them chuckle a bit.

“She's a club favorite, you’ll enjoy her ever present company,” Cedric said in a slightly condescending tone.

“I’m sure her services will be appreciated,” Niall said, clearly noticing Cedric's tone.

“Very well then, here are your keys, golf clubs should already be loaded, enjoy your time here at Ocean Wells Country Club.”

I nodded at Cedric, turning to the front door and holding my arm out to let the gentleman know they could carry on ahead of me before I began walking slightly behind them. I noticed Harry’s pace slow a bit more than the others as we made our way over, his attention turning to me for a moment, clearing his throat.

“Would you mind starting us off with some whiskeys, over ice please. We will need lunch reservations at around two, we should be finished with our game by then,” he said, unable to make eye contact fully.

“Might I suggest 2:15 to make room for any delays and travel time back to the cafe?” I said politely, his eyes shifting to meet mind more predominantly. They were a beautiful shade of green, tricking the eyes to think they were blue, crystal clear in certain lights - glimmers of aquamarine.

“You know the place better than I, 2:15 is fine,” he smiled small my head nodding, for some reason my cheeks found themself washed over with a flush of pink.

We exited out into the warm summer sun, a sigh instantly leaving me, eyes closed as my face moved to look up into the sun, taking in its heat. Summertime was my favorite time of the year, it’s when I thrived most, when I felt most alive. Bringing my face down, I opened my eyes to find Harry already looking at me, quickly looking away when he noticed my eye contact.

We all stepped into our individual golf carts, they drove off to their first hole as I drove to the cafe to pick up their first round of drinks. I placed the order, waiting until they were brought out, throwing in some complimentary pretzels and beer cheese to start them off right. I carefully loaded everything into the cart, driving my way over to where they were. By the time I had made my way over, they were on the second hole, Niall currently lining up his shot before swinging effortlessly, the ball landing right next to the hole but not quite making it in.

I watched as he handed Harry a twenty dollar bill, Mitch and Harry laughing at how upset Niall looked. I pulled up behind their carts, Harry’s attention quickly moving over to me. He walked over as Mitch chose his golf club for his turn, reaching for the tray of drinks as I moved out of the cart.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, I got it,” I smiled, both our grips steady in the tray.

“Truly, I got it,” he smiled, his hand brushing my hand away. I felt my breath get caught in my throat as I swallowed, turning back to grab the tray with the pretzels and cheese.

I faced him, smiling shyly, “I figured you all would do well with some post game fuel? No one has ever hated our pretzel and beer cheese. It’s a club favorite,” I smiled, his eyes took in the food as Niall and Mitch made their way over to us.

“What’s all this?” Niall smiled, Harry’s eyes staying on me as he spoke.

“Cassie brought us a club favorite apparently,” he finally broke his eye contact, handing a drink to each of the boys as I nodded.

“I could drink the beer cheese if it wasn’t frowned upon,” I shrugged as Mitch reached over, ripping off a piece and dipping it in the cheese. He took a bite, eyebrows raising, nodding as he pointed to the tray with the remaining piece in his hand.

“Holy shit, let the stuck up pricks stare at us cause I’ll down it with you in a second,” he exclaimed making the rest of us laugh.

Niall and Harry took a piece each, copying Mitch in every single aspect, quickly praising me for my choice in game starting fuel. For the next few moments they stood around me, eating and drinking to their satisfaction before agreeing to move onto the next hole before anyone else began the same course, though I of course knew that wouldn’t happen. They were elite guests, no one would be assigned to this side of the club until two hours in so they would take all the time they wanted.

I loaded the empty glasses and trays into the back of my golf cart, hearing Harry yell out as my eyes caught Niall and Mitch driving off without him, middle fingers in clear sight, “Fuckers!”

Covering my mouth, I bit back my chuckle, shaking my head, “Need a ride?” I called out, his body shifting to face me, an eye roll following.

“I swear they know how to act proper,” he shook his head, shy dimples imprinting on his cheeks.

“Proper isn’t exactly my style, so, eh,” I chuckled, getting in my cart and patting the seat next to me. He walked over, getting in, hands wiping down his thighs. I took in his actions, my eyes taking in his face with a soft smile, before facing forward and starting up the cart.

“So how long have you been doing this for?” He asked softly, facing forward.

“Umm? Three years? Trying to make enough money to pay for college. The goal is to finally start this coming spring, but we shall see,” I shrugged, glancing over at him. He turned to me for a moment before we both looked forward again.

“What are you wanting to study?” He continued the conversation, his voice a bit stronger than before, almost as if he was slowly getting more comfortable.

“Social work, work with youth in the foster system. I want to be able to help people in a way I wished someone helped me when I was in foster homes,” I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly on the wheel as I drove. I could see Niall and Mitch in the close distance.

“That sounds like a beautiful full circle moment?” He said, questioning if that’s what it really was to me.

“Uh…sort of? I guess. I mean, you’re not the first person to tell me that, but I’m not exactly sure if I see it in that light. Just because, I don’t know if it’ll give me the healing most people think it will,” I said as I parked behind the other carts. We both turned to face each other and he nodded slightly.

“Mm, that’s understood. Your trauma isn’t healed just because you helped others avoid the same,” he said softly, a smile pushing into my left cheek.

“Exactly,” I breathed out, his lips rolling into his mouth. I couldn’t help but linger there, linger on the plumpness, the perfect rosey pink, the perfect Cupid’s bow. I shifted in my seat, “Um, shall I get you all some iced tea? Or water? Second round?”

He cleared his throat, moving to exit the cart, “Um, water and another round please, thank you.”

I watched as he moved towards his friends without another word and I drove back to the cafe to pick up their next round.

HARRY'S POV

I walked towards Niall and Mitch, willing myself to not turn back towards Cassie. Since laying my eyes on her upon arrival, something struck my heart in a way I hadn’t been struck in a while. She radiated electricity, not warmth, not light, electricity. She seemed to shock my entire system by just standing there. It didn’t help that I was aware it wasn’t just my eyes lingering for too long - hers on my lips just now shocking my soul.

Running my fingers through my hair, I approached Niall and Mitch, Niall’s hand slapping Mitch’s chest, “Told you!”

“Told him what?” I said, raising an eyebrow, walking over to my caddy and picking out my next club.

“You’re already smitten, been smitten since we walked in,” Niall said, my eyes narrowing in his direction.

“What the fuck are you going on about? I’m just being polite, she’s treating us well,” I said, picking my club and walking over to prep my swing.

“Full of shit, you both are eye fucking each other any moment you get!” Niall said, my eyes rolling and Mitch just laughed.

“He kinda has a point,” he said, standing next to Niall, arms crossed in front of his body.

“You both are idiots,” I said, turning back to the ball, pulling back and taking my first swing. It was such a lousy swing, the back of my hand meeting my forehead. They were wrong, it was obvious they weren’t, but I didn’t want this to be just another damn hook up situation. She seemed like a good person who didn’t deserve that, even if she didn’t mind it.

“That swing shows me that we aren’t,” Mitch teased, and I shook my head.

“Look, she’s beautiful, there is no damn denying that, but I’m not letting it get to my head, alright? Let’s just play the damn game.” I pushed past them, switching clubs so we could just continue playing.

We finished up the hole and moved onto the next when Cassie finally joined us again. She brought over our drinks and water, making conversation with Niall. I tried to avoid her this time around, watching her from a distance. At least this way I could take her in, and not deal with the teasing from my mates.

She was so animated when she talked, often twirling her long brown hair as she spoke, the white uniform, trimmed with green making her tan skin pop against it. She smelled like an apricot, something I noticed on the drive to the previous hole with her. Sweet, fresh, something I would gladly bite into. I shook the thought from my head, bringing my hands behind my head, linking my fingers together. I closed my eyes, inhaling the summer dry air, it was my favorite season to bask in, just taking in the sun, letting it warm my skin.

“Seems like they left you again,” I heard Cassie’s voice next to me, my left eye opening to peek over at her.

“I feel like it’s going to be a thing for the rest of the game,” I let my arms drop down next to me, a small giggle coming from her.

“Well, it’s okay, you have the best golf cart in the entire club to save you,” she winked playfully.

“Thank goodness for that,” I smirked, as she shrugged, walking backwards to the cart before turning around completely. I followed like a lost puppy behind her, watching her full hips swing from side to side as she walked away from me. I licked my lips, biting down on my lower lip, walking around the cart as I reached it, getting in.

“So, are you enjoying your break from work?” She asked, her eyes shifting towards me, and I let mine meet hers instantly.

“Yeah actually, nice to not have to be moving constantly unless it is my choice to do so. I like that I can just settle for a bit,” I said, her eyes shifting down to my hand then back in front of her.

“I like settling. Just knowing somewhere is home. Moving around so much when I was younger, it made me crave stability, you know?” She said, and I nodded.

“It’s like, rooting your feet somewhere long enough to actually make it feel like it’s your home,” I responded, bringing a big smile to her face.

“Exactly, exactly that,” she giggled a bit.

We drove for a bit longer, trying to find the boys at the next hole but they were nowhere to be seen. She came to a complete stop, pulling out her phone, “Maybe I went the wrong way? But I doubt it, I know these pathways like the back of my hand.”

I rolled my eyes, tossing my head back knowing exactly what they were doing, “I’m sure it’s not you. I have a feeling those assholes are long gone right now.”

“Oh..,um, I can head back if you want? You don’t have your clubs so…” she suggested, her face glancing over her shoulder then back at me.

Staying quiet for a moment, I took in the situation, analyzing the possibilities and that one that stood out the clearest was - I didn’t want to leave her just yet. I brought my hand to my lower lip, pinching it softly as I turned to face her, “You know this place like that back of your hand right?”

“Basically.”

“You have a place you like to hide out, that no one knows about?” I said, her eyes narrowing a bit, before a slightly devilish smile appeared on her face.

“I do actually,” she said, putting the cart into drive without another word.

“Going to show me?” I said, and she nodded.

“An adventure on company time? Why not.” She giggled, making me laugh with her.

We drove for a good five minutes, the golf cart cutting through different courses, avoiding people’s games and paths. We reached what seemed to be a back corner, a giant tree settling into the corner. It’s long thick trunks and branches seemed to bend, creating perfect nooks to rest in the shadow away from the sun. She park just to the side of it, turning off the cart, holding her hands out.

“Voila!! My secret spot,” she smiled, getting off and walking over to the tree. I watched her climb on top of it, effortlessly finding her perfect spot, settling into the curve that seemed shaped perfectly for her.

“How many people actually know about this?” I said, walking over, trying to pick the perfect place for me to climb up and settle.

“Just my friend Kenny, but he wouldn’t know how to actually get here. Just knows it exist….so like please don’t kill me or anything cause then I’ll never be found.” She pointed at me, making me laugh as I found my spot directly in front of her, our legs extending out next to each other.

“I won’t, I promise, I wouldn't know how to get back without you,” I said, sitting up for a moment to slip on my sweater before settling back. Unbuttoning the sleeves on my dress shirt, I rolled them up to my elbows, finally relaxing.

“Did the tattoos have stories?” Cassie said.

“Some. Others were just crazy ideas, things I thought would fit the bare spaces. A couple friends have chosen,” I smiled over at her.

“So if I said to get a turtle near your palm tree you would do it?” She asked, my head tilting slightly knowing my palm tree wasn’t currently exposed.

“And how do you know about that?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, both eyebrows raised at her. I watched her eyes widen, reds and pinks covering her sweet cheeks.

“Oh….I just…um, Niall he uh —…”

Bursting into laughter, I cut her off, shaking my head, “Cassie, I’m aware some people know more about me than I may know, I’m just twisting your arm.”

I kicked her legs softly with my foot, her eyes narrowing and returning the same gesture. For the next moments, we just sat in silence, taking in the small noises of the golf course, the bits of wind on the tree leaves. Every now and then we would ask one another questions about our personal life. I had no problem opening up to her and her with me, letting her tell me about the things that seemed to just magically pop into her mind.

As we sat, our bodies also seemed to scoot further down, feet and legs sharing soft touch against one another, knees rubbing gently against her thigh, her fingers also moving to dance around my calf. I let my own do the same, small chills forming on her bare legs. We stayed this way until she let me know we needed to head back soon, the time we were meant to be out on the course was almost over, and she would have to finish the rest of her shift.

I nodded in agreement as we both moved to begin our climb down. I made my way first, extending my arms out towards her to help her lower herself the rest of the way down, her perfect self landing perfectly in front of me. Her eyes locked on mine, tongue licking over her lips, breath heavy from our proximity.

“How much longer did you say we have?” I said softly, my hand moving to push her hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t specify,” she said, her voice shaky, my head nodding as I bravely closed the distance between us and kissed her. It’s what I wanted, and though her movements were hesitant at first, her eagerness in kissing me back let me know she wanted it too.

I wrapped my hand around the nape of her neck, gripping at it, pushing her closer to me, her mouth opening up and letting my tongue meet hers. I ran it across the roof of her mouth, pulling away as my teeth pulled her lower lip with them. She shuddered softly, a soft moan escaping her pretty pink lips.

“And to think I thought you were shy,” she whispered, hands trailing down to my hips, fingers tapping softly against them.

“Mmm, being shy doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, and what excites me,” I quipped back, earning me a small raised brow.

“And what do you want?” She pushed up on her toes, kissing nose as her hands began pulling my dress shirt out of my pants.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, fire growing in my stomach, blood beginning to rush to my prick, “Fuck sake, you really wanna know?”

She nodded, undoing my belt buckle and pants, working the zipper down as her hand slipped into the band of my brief without question.

“You. You on top of me in that golf cart. Fucking me until you can’t anymore,” I groaned as her hand wrapped around my length, freeing me from the restriction of my clothes, pumping up and down my length.

“Mmm, get in the cart, Harry,” she said, releasing her hold on me, pushing me back. I watched as she began stripping free of her clothes, and I did the same as we walked over to the cart, sliding into the back seat. She climbed into the space next to me, bending her body over to take me in her hand, pumping up and down my shift before slipping me in her mouth. Her tongue rounded around my tip, teasing along my slit making my abs contort, my legs shooting up slightly, body tensing at the feeling.

She chuckled, the vibrations adding to an additional sensation around my cock, as she pushed her mouth further down me, bobbing up and down until she took me completely, nose meeting my happy trail. I felt her swallow me further down her throat, my hand instinctively wrapping around her ponytail, holding her there as my hips bucked forward.

She pushed against my hold, pop off me with a gasp of air, her spit covering my cock, her hand replacing where her mouth was as she wiped her mouth with the other. She moved closer to me, kissing me deeply, my hand curling around her jaw, not able to get enough of her, of her taste.

Of her sweet apricot scent.

My hand moved down to her hip, gripping at it and directing her over my body, her legs straddling my hips, her hands both moving to my shoulders. I pushed her wet center onto my shaft, guiding her hips up and down it, her slick and spit creating enough lubrication to guide her movements further.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, her hips rocking back and forth on me, her thighs clenching as she did, “Mm, I need you.”

She moaned, her eyes moving to mine, pants falling from her lips as her movements grew incredibly sloppy, her face was so flushed, nails digging into my shoulders.

“Yeah? Where do you need me? Huh? Tell me where,” I pressed into her lips, her moans growing more frequent, lips pressing an open kiss into my chin as I felt her come on me, arousal coating my cock thickly.

Her body trembled, her teeth biting at my chin, my hand moving up to her face, gripping under her jawline tightly, “Hmm, you need more than that?”

She nodded, “Please.” She basically begged.

“Mm? What more do you want, huh? Tell me Cassie,” I groaned at the thought of her saying she needed me inside her, at what that would feel like.

“Fill me up, please. God, Harry, please,” she breathed, pushing body up, gripping at my cock, bringing it up to meet her wet cunt, rubbing the tip against it before slipping herself down on me. It was a slow moment of taking me inch by inch, each moment further down met by the tight squeeze of her walls. She finally took the last bit of me in, each of us groaning out in pure ecstasy, before she began to lift her hips again, bouncing up and down on me effortlessly. Her perfectly round tits were in front of me, bouncy with her, begging to be in my mouth, my hands wrapping around them and bringing them to my lips. My tongue flicked at her nipples, pulling at them between my teeth, her moans escalating just like her pace on my cock.

“Fuck you do that so good, that wet cunt is so good,” I groaned into her tits, biting at the plump fleshy skin, kneading it with my hands. I slipped on arm around her waist, pumping my hard cock up into her, matching her pace.

“Oh, yes, Harry, just like that. Fuck just like that….god,” she moaned, her hands pulling my face to hers, kissing me deeply, our tongue sloppily running against each others. I slipped my fingers between us, rubbing her clit as I continued to pump in and out of her, her movements hardly existent, her legs trembling, her head knocked back in pleasure.

I could feel her tight cunt fluttering around me, pulling me deeper into it, her arousal already soaking down my thighs and hers. I wanted to taste every bit of it, I wanted it to coat me completely, make me filthy in it.

“You wanna come for me, Cassie? Come all over my hard cock, sweet girl? Hmm? Cock so hard for you, wants to fill you up. Can I do that? Can I fill up that wet cunt? Watch you squeeze me out after? Yeah?” I whispered into her neck, kissing along it up to her ear.

“Oh yes, Harry, fu-fuck, yes, yes, fill me up, oh…Ha-Harry I’m going to…I’m..” she gasped, her walls clenching around me, her hips pushing forward, legs clenching around me tighter, “Oh fuck, yes.”

She breathed out in relief, a moan so damn sexy I could have came at the very sound of it. I kept bucking my hips up into her, letting her ride out her high on my hard cock, taking in the way her body and face reacted to the feeling, only turning me on more. Both my hands gripped at her hips, fucking into her harder and quicker until I came, my hips bucking up and holding place their, shooting warm ropes into her fluttering walls.

We both came down from out high, her face nuzzled into my neck, my hips final relaxing and lowering back down, bring her carefully with me.

“Cassie baby, do something for me?” I whispered, a tired nod coming from her. She carefully sat up, eyes locking with mine.

“Pull off me sweet girl, squeeze out my come for me, let me see it drip out of you? Yeah?” I breathed out and she nodded, lazily doing as I instructed. She pulled off of me, both of us groaning. My eyes locked into her sweet cunt, watching her squeeze my come out of her, “Fuck, yes.”

She smirked tiredly, reaching down and covering her fingers in it, bringing it to her lips, licking them clean slowly. I met the other side of them, helping her, until she pulled them away so we were sharing the mix of our arousals on our lips.

Pulling away, she sighed, pushing her forehead on mine, “Mmm, I’ve never christened my secret spot before. Must be my lucky day.”

I chuckled, pressing one more kiss onto her lips, “We can do it again tomorrow. I have time. Find other places in this club to christen.”

“Mm? Sounds like a challenge.”

“I never liked when things came easy anyways.”

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becca-e-barnes · 8 months

Note

Imagine being stepdad Bucky’s dirty little secret😩🤫

I've been listening to 'Bad Man' by FIGHTMASTER and it's inspired some filthy fantasies that would fit stepdad Bucky perfectly 🤤

I have so much I'd like to talk about but I'll start with how hot it would be to have him catch you playing with a toy when you think no one is home. Especially if you'd already been sleeping together but maybe you decided to stop when you got a new boyfriend.

You were so sure the house was empty, you didn't even think twice about slipping your vibrator from it's hiding spot. With your earphones in, you hadn't heard the footsteps down the hallway towards your bedroom. You didn't notice that your door wasn't closed tight either. All that mattered was the delightful buzzing of the toy against your clit, your hand squeezing your own breasts and the flithy thoughts that inspired you to touch yourself.

Fuck, this was a show for Bucky. He hadn't meant to invade your privacy but he wasn't quite sure how to look away. The memory of you writhing in pleasure kept him up at night but now he's getting to see it up close again.

"You really ought to close your door if you're going to do that, sweetheart." You miss the first half of what he said because you weren't able to take your earphones out fast enough, choosing instead to cover yourself.

Bucky only rolls his eyes. "No point covering up, honey. Did you forget I've kissed, licked or bitten pretty much every inch of you already?" There's an overwhelming cockiness in his tone and it makes knots twist in your stomach.

"Look, if that new guy you're dating can't take care of you, you only had to tell me." He steps inside and closes the door behind him and you swear he hasn't taken his eyes off you yet. "I'm not surprised he's not enough for you. I bet he's selfish, isn't he. He doesn't think about you. He won't take the time to learn what you like. He can't make your thighs shake the way I do."

His stare is intense but when you look away, he catches under your chin with two fingers, redirecting your line of sight back to him.

"You don't need to be shy." His voice is soothing, his hand creeping under the sheets and you don't make any effort to stop him from finding what he's looking for. He trails his fingers up your thigh, groaning softly when his fingertips reach the slick, messy folds of your sex.

"We shouldn't do this..." You protest feebly but that only makes him laugh.

"You're right. We shouldn't. So tell me why you're grinding yourself against my fingers like you're in heat." It's humiliating but he's got a point. "If he's not taking care of you, I'll have to remind you how sex is supposed to feel." Two of his thick, long fingers glide into your eager body and you feel him hook them inside you exactly how you always loved.

"You don't know how many times I've stroked my cock and tried to remember exactly what this little cunt feels like. I’ve tried to remember the way you squeeze me when you're cumming. Nothing feels like you do. Your body is a fucking luxury." He's losing his self control far faster than he wants to.

"Get on your hands and knees." It's an order you only start to respond to when he slips his fingers out of you and you reposition yourself in front of him. He tugs his zipper down, freeing himself from his underwear, giving his cock a few firm strokes before lining it up with your entrance.

"Oh sweetheart, it's been a while." He groans, pressing just the tip into you at first.

"Feels so fucking good." You babble, pressing yourself back on him, encouraging him to inch into your body. You haven't felt this blissed out in months and he's only getting started. You knew this wouldn't last. There was no way you'd be able to turn down the one man who truly knows your body. He understands your needs in a way no one else has ever even tried to. Maybe it's the age difference or the extra experience he's got but this man really understands your pleasure.

"Fuck, it does, doesn't it?" He laughs, pressing the rest of the way into you and giving you a couple of sharp, half thrusts.

It's not long before he's established a good rhythm, his cock slipping in and out of you while he reaches around you to rub your clit. You feel him kissing the back of your neck, groaning against your skin that he missed your body, up until a faint buzzing sound makes him pause.

At first you'd thought your vibrator switched back on but then you notice your phone screen illuminated on the sheets beside you and your boyfriend's face filling the screen.

"Answer it." Bucky demands, resuming his thrusts at the same pace as before. "I want you to answer it. Tell him what we're doing. Or hide it from him. It's up to you."

#asks answered <3 #sergeantbarnessdoll #becca writes spice #stepdad!bucky #bucky Barnes smut #stepdad Bucky smut #tw: stepcest #I got carried away with this #I'm going into work tomorrow fully intending to be a nightmare #and I'm so excited about it #my self confidence rn can't be matched #I've been getting back into weight training #and I've started to notice a difference #and my skin is looking really nice too rn #It's just me and my water bottle and my hopes and dreams against the world

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rippersz · 8 months

Text

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

A Larissa Weems x F!Reader four-part mini-fic. Read the first and second parts here: Heat, Heat II; (NSFW: Vulgar, Breeding Kink, Mommy Kink, G!P, All That Jazz)

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

“Well… it’s um- hot. Of course.” You started, choosing to look down at your knees in embarrassment. “Like my skin is always… sticky. Sweaty. That’s why my shower is literally constantly drying,” your arm gestured vaguely to the open bathroom door. “It helps but not for long because… b-because… um…” god it was so humiliating, “because I just get like all- I get all-” your hands pinwheeled, catching at the air like moving tires as you sifted through your vocabulary for the perfect word, “I- I get all!- you know-”

“Needy.”

You startled, looking up with wide eyes.

Larissa’s gaze was unexpectedly intense. Dark. Staring into your soul with a depth and weight you couldn’t decipher. The sight of it had you freezing in your spot, blushing as she stared at you unblinkingly. There were cogs turning in the older woman’s head. You wondered about her thoughts before you nodded, feeling the embarrassed heat of your cheeks start to turn into a blaze. Needy… she had called you needy. She looked you in the eye and called you needy. The feeling of the duvet curling around your fingers, pushing into your sweating palms, had you pulling your mind out of the gutter with gusto. The object of your affections (and daydreams) was right in front of you. Fantasizing was off the table. Many things were off the table. Including yourself… which could be on the table if there were a table nearby and Larissa had the nerve to bend you over i-

“Apologies, it was- just the first word that came to mind. Please, continue,” she said suddenly, looking sheepish about her outburst.

You observed her for a moment longer, noting the straight posture and the fidgeting hands and the dark blush on porcelain cheeks. She just wanted to help, you reminded yourself. She just… wanted… to help. So you looked away, unclenched your hands from your duvet, and nodded.

“Right- yeah- that. I get um… that- easily. And it’s- it’s really hard. It gets to a point where it hurts. A lot. And then at that point it’s just- all sense is… gone. Disappeared. I sort of fall into this- this haze… where I feel the um- the need to like get rid of the- the feelings really badly. The… desire.”

Oh. Oh it was… it felt like heaven to finally get it all off of your chest. Like the weight of your situation, the strength of the lust that overtook you, shameful and devious in its nature, was lugged off of your shoulders and thrown onto your bedroom floor. You’d been hiding it for nearly four weeks, knowing it would only get worse. The desire would overtake you at some point, you were certain. And then- well then you weren’t sure what you’d do. Die, maybe? Or pass out? Goodness, how terrible would that be? If you fainted and couldn’t wake up without the assistance of another? Surely, someone would find you eventually, no? Larissa would make sure of it - even if she had to show up herself. Maybe. Probably. The very thought of that had you letting out a sigh; one of mixed relief and exhaustion.

“So,” your boss started gently as she rounded the bed and headed toward the windows. Her pace was slow. “You… get flare-ups, so to speak… and have to ‘cure’ them… by uh- well- let’s say ‘taking care of it’? Am I correct?” You were a bit confused as to why Larissa’s voice sounded so strained- and why she was facing the window and not you- but you eventually decided it was most likely a way of giving you privacy. Rather sweet of her, honestly. It made you feel better as you looked at the bedroom door and nodded.

“Yeah it gets pretty intense. Like.. umm..”

“Painful?”

You hummed out a ‘yes’, figuring that was a good word.

“Excruciating?”

You hummed again.

“Just……. agonizing?” Larissa sounded breathless.

You turned, too focused on the tall figure by the window to notice the way the straps of your nightie slipped down the curves of your shoulders. Larissa looked tense, but you could see the way her body moved with breath - as though she were breathing heavier than normal, but you couldn’t hear anything. In fact, the world was quiet. Weirdly quiet. Like the lingering notes of nothing before it exploded into everything. Or the calm before the storm, as some liked to coin it. You weren’t sure what had changed exactly, but you knew something did. The tone of Larissa’s words… her desire to help, practically shining out of her eyes… did she- no. No, there was no way. You blinked, squinting in the dim light of your bedroom as if that would help you peer into Larissa’s thoughts.

…Just what was going on in that head of hers?

—

Larissa Weems knew exactly what was happening.

She knew exactly what was happening and she knew exactly how to help. Or- how to aid you in what you needed.

What you craved.

Oh you poor thing… her poor thing…

Trembling with restrained lust, nearly bursting at the seams with it. Trying oh so hard to act ‘normal’; to keep up appearances and mask the desire simmering- bubbling- beneath the surface. Waiting for it to boil over. Nervous for the moment in which it would.

Larissa had clocked you even before you opened the door. Her senses were sharp. Her veins swam with blood that sang for you; that smelled your… predicament… and wanted to relieve it. Wanted to get rid of it. Wanted to satiate it.

Wanted to make it all her own. Grasp the situation with both hands. Push you down and take you until your begging ceased and fell into mindless whimpers. Until you couldn’t stand being awake anymore and fell asleep in her lap, plush thighs framing her own, warming her throbbing co-

“Are you… okay? Larissa?” Your sweet little tone rang out, hesitant and questioning. It made blue eyes turn from the window, seeking out the slightly worried expression on your pretty face.

She swallowed as discreetly as she could and worked to unclench her hands from the fists they found themselves balled into. Clearly things were affecting her far more than she realized. It wasn’t really her fault though. No, it wasn’t her fault you smelled… so… so good. Larissa took a deep breath, utilizing it as a sigh when all she wanted was to push her head into the slope of your neck and breathe you in, swallowing your scent like a woman that had gone without water for a week. And it wasn’t her fault, likewise, that you were so… lovely. So beautiful. So perfect opening the door like that, trying to hide the way you were dying inside with desire. If she were a bolder soul that lived without shame, Larissa surely would have stepped up and walked into your room, slammed the door behind her with a click of the lock, and pulled you into the most passionate kiss you’d have ever felt. Oh yes, she would have given into her own instincts and taken control with vigor. She would have slipped her fingers beneath the lacey straps of that nightgown and pulled them further down your arms - slowly, teasingly, just to fuck with you and see how desperate you’d get if she took her time. And her nails, trimmed and painted a deep red, would caress so mindlessly - up and down and around in circles that would lapse over each other so many times they would become uncountable…

But she wasn’t that bold. And she cared far too much about your feelings to act so recklessly. So instead of listening to the hum of warmth that tugged at her soul, Larissa kept her head and clasped her hands politely at her waist.

“Yes, of course. I’m merely- trying to understand,” and she smiled as gently as she could, preening secretly beneath your undivided attention.

—

You hummed, looking your boss up and down once more. There was something up… but it wasn’t your place to ask. If she wanted to leave, she knew very well that she could. If she was uncomfortable, she’d just have to say so and the conversation would end. So whatever was going on… it was not for you to know just yet.

“Okay.” It was a simple response but you mirrored her smile to signal that everything was alright. The topic was strange… the last thing you wanted to do was put her in an uncomfortable position.

Larissa didn’t seem to mind too much though as she stepped away from the window and turned to sit in one of the armchairs in the room’s alcove, working to make herself comfortable. You observed like a captivated audience at the opera, unable to take your eyes off of every move she made. The measured steps of her stockinged feet… the steady sway of her hips and canter of her legs and the almost lazy way her arms fell to her sides… you felt your lust rise again, laughing maniacally from somewhere inside you as it spread from the depths of your abdomen up to your heart. There was an ascending pinkness to your cheeks and heat to your body that you sincerely hoped Larissa couldn’t see.

If she did, she didn’t comment on it and instead gestured with a flippant hand wave for you to continue. Her posture was finally relaxed, you were happy to see. Reclined, one leg crossed over the other, pulling her skirt tight while she pressed her elbow to the arm of the chair and rested her cheek on the hills of her knuckles. If she stayed just like that, contoured beautifully by the dim light of the room as the sun waved her last goodbyes, you were sure even the most esteemed artists would pay good money to catch even a glimpse of the Larissa Weems. Beautiful woman and shapeshifter extraordinaire, looking natural and calm in her willingness to help. God she was stunning…

“Um- yeah I think that may really just be it. The pain gets really bad and I just kind of- need to get rid of it at that moment otherwise I… freak out? I guess? The flare-ups are the worst part though,” you frowned, knowing that the eventual next wave would be worse than the last.

Larissa replied with a hum, looking thoughtful for a moment as her eyes- blazing and dark- traced over your form. You weren’t exactly the prettiest picture, you knew. Hunched over as you were on the edge of the bed, playing with the lace hem of your nightgown and anxiously bouncing your right foot off of the floor without much thought. From her perspective, you probably looked like a strange sick mess. Out of your mind with desire - itching to get rid of the buzz your body felt 24/7.

“...Are you aware of what usually happens during heats?” She paused. “Besides the- lust, of course.”

You nodded. “Um yeah, I think so. Usually, I mean for wolves I know there’s an alpha and omega and they do that whole thing. With the mating and the nests. And then the um- like um- the- the b- b-,” ugh god how embarrassing that you couldn’t even say it- “the br- bree-”

“Breeding?”

Your hands flopped down to the bedspread, fisting into the fabric without thought as a whimper- keening and loud and pathetic- threatened to fall off of your tongue. Your throat bobbed with the willpower it took to swallow the sound.

Breeding, she had said. Breeding. Breeding, breeding, breeding… Bearing children for one’s partner… giving up the body to accept the sacred fruits… oh it- it sounded- it sounded delicious rolling past Larissa’s lips. Breeding… oh just the concept-!

‘Yes…,’ your soul called, ‘meant for it. To breed. To be bred. To take. To take and take and take and take and take. To be good. Take her seed- her children- warm her. All for her. Every part. Meant for Larissa. All Larissa’s. Larissa’s. Meant to be hers. All hers.’

You could feel yourself trembling. Keeping the noises in, locked away, and the heat down, resistant in its simmer, was becoming too much. You swallowed, only to feel that your throat was dry. You sniffed, only to find yourself sniffling instead, trying to calm the sudden pound of your heart. It was in your ears. Your neck. The aching heaven between your legs.

“Oh Y/n, I’m sorry,” you dragged your eyes up to look at Larissa. Her expression was full of remorse. “I didn’t mean to trigger anything.”

You shook your head immediately, working through the grasp of your libido as you could feel it pull at you. None of it was Larissa’s fault. She didn’t know. She didn’t have to apologize. And when you tried telling her that, allowing your quivering lips to part so you could explain, the only sound that came out, rising from the back of your throat, was a sharp whine. It sounded like an instrument note for just a second before you abruptly closed your mouth and swiftly brought your hands up to your face, shielding yourself from embarrassment. If you were in better control of yourself, you would’ve apologized immediately, but the best you could do was shake your head and try to regulate your breathing. In and out… in and out… slowly but surely…

Larissa waited with patience as you collected yourself. She was silent, observant… tense. You couldn’t see the way she leaned forward in her seat, lips parted, heart throbbing within her own chest, mind running wild with thoughts that surrounded you and only you.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of your mouth when you finally managed to come back down to Earth. It was murmured on repeat, without thought. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

The whispers in your psyche were fading but they still threaded themselves through your body, making your blood hum with ardor, signaling that ‘the next wave’ was going to come about soon and you had limited time to prepare. Not that there was much to do from a preparation standpoint. Throwing the nightie off of your body and laying back on the bed was easy. Cracking your knuckles, taking deep breaths, and waiting was a little harder. Like the anticipation that grew within your body, waiting for the switch to click from off to on, would kill you if it didn’t happen soon enough. And maybe it would. Maybe that was something you had to ask Larissa. Yes. Definitely.

So with as much sense as you could muster, you stopped your apologetic rambling and said into your hands, “Will- will this kill me, Larissa?” You preferred not to think about the pathetic crack in your voice. “Cuz it f-fee-feels like it will….”

That was no exaggeration. It did feel terrible. It did feel fatal.

“Oh… darling, no,” came your savior’s soft voice as she stood up from her spot and crouched before you, placing one cool clammy palm on your bare knee. “You’re not going to die, Y/n… You’ll be alright.” And her coo made you shiver as her thumb, most definitely without realizing, drove you to the brink of madness with its slow circles over your sensitive skin.

It was strange, the reaction you had then. As soon as Larissa touched you, as soon as her long fingers clasped your knee gently and caressed the softness found, the whispers went away. Blinked out of existence. Threw themselves into the ether. Your heart still pumped wildly, remnants of what happened, but there was no more anxiety. No more harm. It was as though your soul had just decided to… settle. Nearly unnaturally. Nearly… impossibly. You felt the graze of your eyelashes along your fingers as you blinked and breathed into your palms. Slowly, the burn in your lungs went away. Slowly, the fierceness of your libido was tamed. Laid to an easily awoken rest.

“Y/n, darling…” Larissa’s voice made you sigh in relief. It felt like cool water being poured down the rivets of your spine. “...look at me.”

And she sounded so sweet… so careful… so aware of your predicament… that you couldn’t help but obey. Like a bitch with her master.

You moved your fingers and peered through the spaces between them, not at all surprised to see the concerned line between your boss’s eyebrows. Oh she looked so beautiful even like that… looking at you with a small pout on her face, like she really did feel bad about your situation. Though when your eyes met, the expression melted into something that nearly had you closing your fingers and covering the entirety of your face again. The corners of her lips drew up and her eyes started sparkling and the lines of her face deepened with warmth, happy to see you listening to her and being so good- being so… so….

“There we go,” Larissa cooed, “Hello~” And then she grinned, silly and amused, looking hopeful in her endeavors to calm you down just with her closeness alone.

It worked, thank goodness, and you found yourself rolling your eyes begrudgingly and smiling behind your hands. At least she didn’t think your reaction was embarrassing. At least she understood.

“Thanks,” was all you could think to say as you took your hands away from your face and sniffed. Larissa wasn’t going to judge you, you finally realized. She was just going to roll with the punches - and hopefully help. Her comfort alone was already doing a whole lot. And the nod she gave you, paired with the kind smile on her glorious face, had you relaxing even more. Just another reminder that it would be okay. Only a few more days. It would be fine. Everything would be fine.

“Are you alright now?”

“Yeah- yeah I think I’m okay. It just- blegh,” you gestured to your head and sighed.

Larissa chuckled very softly beneath her breath before she tilted her head, blue eyes shining with eternal mirth.

“Blegh?”

You nodded, confident in your words and rosy with humor. “Blegh. Yeah.”

“Well alright then…,” she supposed as she shrugged and stood up, put her hands on her hips, and bent her back to straighten it with a firm groan. “Gods, these old bones…”

That little comment had you giggling as you admired her from your place, tempted to swing your feet as you looked on with appreciation. So beautiful in her casualness… so stunning in her calm demeanor…

“Old bones?” Came your soft exclamation, “You’re not old at all! You’re just- um-...”

Larissa paused while you searched for the proper word, putting an end to her stretching so she could look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Just…?”

A hint of challenge crawled around behind her gaze. It made your hands return to the bedspread, grasping onto the duvet for discreet support. The way she was- she was looking down at you- so tall… so strong… so aware of your little vocal slip-up. Your position wasn’t really helping either… when you removed your focus, trying to look anywhere but at her face with its shifting expression and domineering sort of arrogance, you found yourself at eye level with Larissa’s waist. And her hips. And that soft portion of stomach that one could see through a pencil skirt, with the way it pushed gently against the fabric, all womanly curves and respected existence. Protecting one of the most precious things about her… protecting the sweetness of her womb… the promise of life…

Usually, you wouldn’t focus so much on having children. But evidently, a woman’s heat had no qualms about outwardly desiring a baby. Or two. Or three. As many as it would take to have the emptiness of one's womb filled up entirely. And yours begged for it.

Oh if only… if only Larissa had a cock. The things she could do with it… the pleasure… it had you biting your lip as you stared off into space.

Then a cool hand was placed on your forehead and suddenly you were blinking, looking up at your boss with confusion.

“Um-”

“Hmm,” she cut you off, “no fever.” And then the hand was taken away.

You scoffed, swatting her out of your personal space (mainly for your sanity).

“Yeah duh- I’m not sick,” you spat playfully. “And you’re not old, your skeleton is just- I dunno- speaking to you,” you shrugged, spouting out whatever damned thing came to mind just to distract Larissa and keep her attention from getting stuck on your behavior.

And it seemed to work as she stared down at you, blinked, and then let out a confused little laugh. It was tinged with hilarity - like she was finally unwinding after a long day and could allow herself to break through whatever seams she was stuck in. Principal Weems, you noticed, had become Larissa- in every beautiful and silly way. It was heartwarming to see her place a hand on her chest as she laughed. You wished you could take it into your palms and kiss it. Over and over until she grasped your chin and shoved two fingers into your mou-

“Speaking to me! Ugh- goodness, honestly where do you come up with the things you say?” She giggled as she shook her head.

Your only reply to that was to smile a little wobbly smile, trying with all of your might not to remove your eyes from her beautiful face. One look down and you knew you’d descend into madness again. Your mind would run away from you. Your heart wouldn’t want to chase after it. And your libido would rise from its slumber, grumpy and angry and raw as it faced the tantalizing curve of Larissa’s lower belly. Just the thought of it had you sighing wistfully and looking away, pulling your attention to the windows behind you.

“It’s getting late,” was your quiet observation as you noticed how the sun was nearly gone, only leaving the very last lingerings of her golden rays.

“Ah. So it is,” Larissa agreed, her voice taking on a quiet hush as night fell like a stage’s red curtain.

And with the red curtain came the momentary silence before the audience erupted into cheers.

But there, in the dark of your Nevermore quarters, with the door locked and the rain picking up outside, you figured there would be no applause. And no cheering. And no congratulations and smiling faces afterwards. No, it would just be the quiet of your shared breathing and the steady pound of your heart that you could hear ringing in your ears. The moment felt like a strange reset. Or a lull, perhaps. Not so tense but not so relaxed. You felt your body teetering on the edge of desire. Instead of nipping at you, tugging at your heart and lungs with sharp claws, the symptoms of your heat rose like a wave. Impending. Inescapable. Just waiting to take you under and drown you. Just sitting there, on standby, smiling something evil as its dark ministrations plucked at your nerves. The muscles in your thighs twitched, wanting to move, wanting to push you into motion and make you rock back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Eager to quench the thirst your instincts craved. Eager to have you writhing around on the bed, grinding against anything you could find.

“Larissa,” your voice fell into a gasp, “you- you have to go. I- I- can’t do this.” It was time. It was time and she had to leave immediately before things became worse.

“Another flare-up?” She questioned gently, worry in her voice.

You nodded and turned to look at her. ‘You gotta go’ was on the tip of your tongue. ‘Unless you wanna stay for this next part you have to g…o…’ but the words died. Perished. Disintegrated as you came to find that she had gotten closer. Much closer. So close you could smell her perfume - gardenia and jasmine. It filled your lungs and made you dizzy; made you grasp onto the hem of her skirt, thumbing the fabric and tugging on it gently - like a lifeline; made you swallow and crane your head, nearly whimpering as you felt your chin graze the plushness of her abdomen. A whimper pushed at your lips, eager to fall into the silence, eager to seal your fate as you stumbled into a gaze of pure deep blazing blue. Dark with passion and desire and something else. Dark with… with… with need? You swallowed.

No. No no no. She wasn’t- she couldn’t be- she- well- you felt your heart stop. Was Larissa….?

“You’re going to be okay,” her voice interrupted, soft and kind as two palms, beautiful and desirable and heavenly, cradled your head. You felt her fingers card through your hair, tender and light.

If you were in a different situation, you were sure you would’ve sunken into the feeling and embraced Larissa’s closeness - but you were rooted in the moment and very much aware of the fact that her expression had changed. She was suddenly very serious, looking down at you with hesitation. Like a push and pull was happening inside of her. You didn’t even realize you had moved your hands from her skirt until they were framing her palms, running over her knuckles, silently telling her that she could speak. That she could be honest. That whatever was spoken about in that room would stay in that room. You were to be trusted. You were different.

And so the cord snapped - and Larissa began speaking.

“Y/n…” she started, voice shaking with breath, “…I need you to listen very closely.” You nodded, your thinking thrown to the wind; hanging onto her every word. When she paused, looked between your eyes, and saw your sincerity, she continued. “I may have an idea as to what’s causing this… but you have to stay with me while I explain. I understand it’s difficult, but you’re strong. Can you do that? For me?” And her blue eyes widened, fixing you with a stern look and a demand.

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesyes all for you for you for you Larissa yes yes yes. You nodded again, immediately, without a second to lose, and croaked out a gravelly “Yes. Of course.”

Her explanation would be important. Her knowledge would be valuable. Even though your body was quickly warming up, becoming acquainted again with the desire to fuck, you grasped your mind and held it tight. The fingers in your hair were distracting. The closeness of her warm body was distracting. The smell of her perfume was distracting. The little relieved smile on her face was distracting.

But… if you got to see that smile again at the end of her spiel, as sweet and soothing as it was, then holding on until the last second would have been worth it. So you worked against your instincts and sat tight, giving all of your attention to Larissa.

—

Y/n was making it very hard for her to focus.

Very very hard.

So hard that she could barely keep herself in check.

Her pupils were blown, she knew. And her hands were shaking. And her cheeks and chest were flushed and her throat was dry and she really couldn’t help the way she ran her tongue over her lips as she looked down at the sweet thing beneath her.

You were very cute, not even realizing the extent of your own desire. How it showed on the outside. How the clench of your thighs was quick and rushed and desperate. How the bob of your throat and quiver of your lips signaled that you were holding back pretty sounds. How the tendons in your hands flexed when you twisted the duvet into your palms, poorly concealing your slipping self control. It was arousing.

And distressing.

Larissa remembered the first time she had gone through the cycle. She was capable of falling into a heat and a rut considering her genetic makeup. Born a female at birth with the ability to change that if she so wished; at a base level, that made for an interesting time with intimate partners. But on a level more carnal, more animalistic, it was something else. Something entirely different. Something… she didn’t often like to show. It wasn’t everyday that she stumbled upon people who experienced similar things anyway. Werewolves were fascinating creatures and those that could shift into animals had interesting abilities, but Larissa had yet to meet a person who satiated that side of her.

Who… gave themselves up to her. Submitted. And allowed themselves to be owned.

Others often took one look at the headmistress and saw a challenge. But you… oh you… you saw a dream. You saw all of your wishes coming true. And as Larissa watched the depraved little fantasies play out within that brilliant mind of yours, she was brought back to the painful glory of mating season. And just how delicious it was to feel the burn between her thighs and the ache within her core. And just how nice it was to relish in her own touch and embrace her own desire. And just how precious it was to drive her partners mad. Crazy. Insane with lust. Bonkers with ardor. To run them into the ground with need and push them off the precipice of the most wonderful climaxes. It was nearly addicting. It flashed through her mind during the times she wasn’t drowning in her heat. It flashed through her mind in that exact moment.

While looking down at you. While collecting her thoughts. While trying to explain.

Larissa inhaled a shuddery breath and averted her eyes from the tantalizing beautiful twinkle in your gaze. The dark ceiling, she found, was much less distracting. It gave her enough reprieve to begin speaking, allowing her fingers to play with your hair mindlessly as she picked through her words.

—

“Last year, over the summer, I returned to the United Kingdom to visit my brother.” Blue eyes glanced down at you before darting away again. “We stayed in Norfolk, deciding that we both needed a break from Worthing. That’s in West Sussex, it’s-”

“I know,” you interrupted softly, giving her a small smile once she looked down. You’d also gone to Norfolk over the summer. It was just for a week- a vacation of sorts- to get away from the drone of everyday living. It was crazy that you’d both gone during the same summer, but there was no way you’d been visiting at the same time. Right? You were sure you would’ve noticed her. You were sure you would’ve taken the chance to say hi.

After a delayed nod, Larissa continued. “Of course. Well, it was a nice trip for what it’s worth. It was good to see him again. But…” she swallowed, raising her eyebrows, “toward the end of my stay, something happened. Neighbors were complaining about bad water. The taste had changed, the color too. And when authorities found out what it was…” Larissa trailed off, getting lost in thought for just a moment. You watched with interest as the cogs turned in her head - and then blinked when she finally cleared her throat and continued. “..well. Turns out a werewolf died in one of the lakes. It happened near one of the smaller intake structures, the ones that take clean water and make it consumable. By the time authorities found out, it was too late.” She sighed, her chest heaving with breath.

You frowned. The water… that definitely rang a bell. It had been a strange thing at the time; the water tasted vaguely of metal and it sort of burned the back of your throat, prompting you to switch to plastic water bottles. You’d only had a few cups at most before making the change, but still. You’d still… you still had… some. Your eyebrows scrunched together in mixed confusion and surprise as you stared up at Larissa. Before she opened her mouth, you knew what she was going to say.

“I’d already had some of the water…” she paused, taking that moment to massage your head and tilt it back the slightest bit; fingers framing the space beneath your ears and the apples of your cheeks. Her expression was warm. Apologetic. “...And I know you did too.”

—

Larissa let out a little sigh when she saw your face fall. Part of her wanted to strengthen her hold and keep you in place when you began moving away, but she controlled herself and let you go; watching with eyes of pity as you reared away from her hands and put your feet firmly on the floor. When you got up, she took a few paces to the left and went to turn on the lamp on your bedside table - to distract herself and give you space.

“...A Himalayan salt lamp?” Larissa couldn’t help but question once she saw it, letting out a sweet little chuckle as she trailed one finger down the side of the pink-tinged crystal.

She was amused by the sight of it… and quite delighted when the beautiful golden glow lit up a small portion of the room. It was very adorable. It was very ‘you’.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” she heard you say distractedly with the slightest bit of hesitation - as if you were nervous that she was judging you. She wasn’t, of course. She’d never.

And to prove that, Larissa turned to you, a soft look in her eye as she watched you think over her words.

—

It was a lot to take in, but you knew it was coming. There had to be a reason for all of your strife - it couldn’t have just happened. And there it was. A bit strange but apparently true. You drank werewolf’s blood. Without realizing it. That was that. Done and done.

Well - not entirely. You had one question.

“How did you know I had it too?”

Your gazes met. Larissa’s eyebrows raised as she let out a breath.

“Well I… saw you. It was an odd coincidence, at first I thought I was hallucinating,” she let out a little amused scoff, “but no. There you were. Drinking a glass of water at an inn.” The look she gave you then was pointed- as if to say ‘My story is true and I was correct in my assumptions.’

But you knew she was right. You remembered that glass of water - and you remembered cringing at the odd taste. At the time, you finished it because you were parched, but after that you switched to the water bottles. And Larissa had seen you drinking, there at the same time, entirely unaware of the overall predicament and how it would affect you b- oh.

Oh.

Your eyes widened, body tensing with surprise once your mind caught up and everything clicked into place. Larissa’s flushed skin… her odd breathing… her dilated pupils and enraptured, concerned, knowing expression… You looked away from her so quickly you thought your head was going to snap off of your neck.

Larissa… Larissa was in heat. Or- or rut?

Oh god Larissa was in rut-!

“I was unsure of how to tell you earlier… if you are uncomfortable now, just tell me and I’ll g-”

“No. No no no no no,” you whispered, harsh and quick. “I want you, Larissa.” You were facing the wall, unable to look her in the eye as you spoke and cut her off as softly and kindly as you could. “I want- I-” your eyelids fluttered until you closed them and pressed your lips together, letting out a sigh as one of your hands went up to rest against your forehead. It was so hard to say- so hard to admit- but it was obvious what had to happen. It was obvious what you wanted to happen. “I want you… but only- only- if you want me too.” Your words hid the plea you yearned to share. Please. Please want me back. Please want me too. Please do this with me. Please be mine.

And as if stirred by your words, by your realization, your body came alive; thrumming with many strong lightning bolts of want. Of pure want and desire and ardor and admiration and lust. Your mind was running in circles, jumping from one fantasy to another.

Larissa on top of you. You on top of Larissa. Hips bucking and lips grazing and little moans- little muffled whimpers- leaving each of you and ringing like songs. Pretty beautiful songs that left your thighs shaking and fingers twitching and body humming for her. All for her. All for Larissa and her white teeth and red nails and red lips and pink cheeks and oh god- Larissa’s hands on your hips, Larissa moving your body back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, again and again and again against her. Pressing and writhing and coming undone beneath her touch. Bouncing on her lap, her soft velvety thighs; pulling her closer to your face, mouth open and wanting; seeing your legs out of the corners of your eyes as she pushed them up and back, pressed to your chest, so she could sink deeper and deeper and deeper into you-

“Y/n,” the object of your affections softly called from behind you, voice heavy with mixed concern and uncertainty.

An anxious sigh escaped your pursed lips. Of course - you shouldn’t have said anything. Of course - she didn’t want you. Of course - she thought it was odd. As your boss, god as your boss!, she definitely thought you were mad, didn’t she? Yes, terribly mad and terribly horny and just out of your goddamn mind with lust - to the point where you didn’t realize (until it was too late) that you were propositioning your own boss!

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” you began shaking your head, moving your hand down to cover your mouth with a sigh. The heat coiling within your abdomen wasn’t helping in the least; it only served to haunt you as you figured out how best to escort Larissa out of the room without jumping her bones.

She was in- in rut, for gods’ sakes! She was in rut and she was- oh just the thought- of her at night… hand between her thighs… moaning into the pillow… wrapping around her length or sinking into her heaven and thrusting, thrusting, thrusting… You swallowed hard to hold back a sudden moan and blinked rapidly, grasping onto your dwindling sanity and trying to dispel the wandering thoughts. Your heart was a rock concert in your ears. Sweat gathered along your spine.

It seemed, for once and for all, after teetering on the edge of desire for so long! - it seemed that it was finally time. So you spoke quickly and swallowed your embarrassment, shame, and lust for just a moment more. You’d deal with repercussions later - after getting Larissa the hell away from your bedroom.

“I’m sorry I even suggested that. If you don’t want this, just- just go. For your sake and mine I can’t- I can’t- be around you right now.” It was unnatural hearing yourself so panicked and serious, but it was necessary. The situation had become dire. If she thought you were rude, you’d handle that later too.

The sound of stockinged feet padding up behind you had you tensing. Your body felt stiff already. Tired. Hungry. Like you’d spent your entire life in heat and this quick reprieve left you sore and exhausted. The feeling would be gone in a few moments you knew. Soon enough, the pleasurable warmth in your womb, kind and gentle at that moment, would blow up and start screaming and scratching at you - and then you’d have no choice but to turn around and shove Larissa out of the room. But even when you were about to turn, to gently take her hand and lead her away and insist that staying wasn’t worth it and that she could probably find someone else to help her through her rut - someone better, more equipped - you were stopped. By hands. Two elegant feminine hands that gripped your biceps and kept you in place, facing the wall, body rigid and breath dipping into the shallows. Her hold wasn’t tight, but it was enough. It was enough. You felt your legs quiver.

“Y/n,” she spoke slowly, her tone a deep velvety whisper, “I do want this.” Her hands squeezed gently. “But I need to know,” and she stepped forward until your back was pressed to her front, resting against her, soaking in her warmth, “that you’re not just saying it.”

“I’m n-”

“Shush.”

You shushed.

“I know. I know you think you want this, but Y/n heats are… intense, for lack of a better word. They make you say yes to things you may not usually agree to. They make you-” Larissa inhaled sharply before she let out a bone-shaking sigh. The clammy press of her forehead against the top of your head had you blushing. “-they make you regret. And I don’t want you regretting something… I know I will cherish,” she finished in a whisper.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you gasped for air, chest heaving with relief. The scent of her- of your boss- elegant and mischievous and everything everything everything- blanketed your lungs like a cold woman’s duvet at night. It was intoxicating. Liberating. The scent of… of-... of your mate?

“I won’t.” You spoke suddenly- sharply- desperate to make her see that you’ve always wanted her and you were sure you always would. “Even if I wasn’t in heat, even if this- this wasn’t happening… I’d still want you Larissa. I’d still say yes, if you asked.” And though you felt the need to hang your head in some strange mix of shame and embarrassment, you didn’t want to displace her resting - so you stayed still. Eyes facing the wall, peering at the wallpaper for all it was worth, allowing yourself to revel in the closeness of her. Finally finally finally - the missing puzzle piece your body longed for. The hymn it yearned to recite and sing and cry.

“You will be the death of me,” Larissa whispered sweetly, quickly, like a prayer, before you were being turned around and pushed.

Your back hit the wall with a thud. Your gaze melted into hers. She looked between your eyes- hurried and desperate. You’d never seen Larissa so close to the edge before. Her chest was rising and falling unsteadily, shakily, and there was a wildness to her expression that felt so terribly deliciously exciting. Her lips were parted, her cheeks were very flushed, her eyelids were fluttering. The only word you could think of to describe Larissa, as you gazed at her and felt yourself melt, was the word need.

“I need you.” It was true. It was perhaps the most truthful thing you’d ever said in your life. You wanted her, yes - but if you had to survive the night, since you finally had her in front of you, then you needed her. Her and her warmth and touch and body and all of the pleasure she could give and give and give.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning closer, pressing your chests together, forcing your gaze up through your lashes. You could feel her through the fabric of her dress and your nightie. The hardened peaks of her nipples, the soft flesh of her body- her midsection- the tops of her thighs. Her head was bowed, her nose nearly grazing your own, her shoulders caging you in. Larissa was staring at you; dark blue depths invading your senses, asking you only one last question and insisting that you answer it. She took a shuddering breath; you watched, enraptured, as her lips moved. “Are you certain? Are you- are you absolutely certain?”

You were. Absolutely.

But you knew that if you said no, if you changed your mind and didn’t want it anymore, she would step back immediately. She would step back and she would nod and she would understand and she would politely excuse herself - hunger and desire be damned. She’d leave you be and probably never mention it again. She’d bid you goodbye with a sweet smile and leave you to your own devices. She would never hurt you. She would never cross that threshold. She would never destroy that line. If you reconsidered, Larissa would understand. No matter what.

“Yes. I’m certain.”

And that’s why you couldn’t let her go.

“I’ve never been so certain in my life.”

You craved her.

Larissa’s eyes darted down to your mouth as you spoke. Lust curled like mist within her eyes. It reached for you. Called for you. It whispered your name and beckoned you closer.

So close… until your lips were pressing against each other, into each other, heads turning and mouths melting. Drowning in bursts of warmth. Interlocking finally. Both of you groaned, filthy and deep and full of breath, chests rumbling with satisfaction as the beasts within roared excitedly. Distantly, you felt clawed hands grab at your waist, wrapping around the thick of your hips, eager to be close. Eager to hold. Eager to own. God her lips were so soft. And full. And talented. Wicked. Devilish. They parted, teased, kept you slow and eager as your hands fumbled for purchase somewhere on Larissa’s body. Eventually, they ran up to her shoulders before draping over her neck and playing with the little baby hairs at the base of her updo. It would be ruined by morning. You couldn’t wait to be the culprit.

Larissa pulled back to glance at you, admiring as though you were the stars. “Open your mouth.”

The part of you that burned for her nearly collapsed, entirely too pleased by the demand to give you any pause as your lips fell open instantly. Then you leaned back in, both of you meeting halfway, acting as one until her tongue licked at your lower lip and dipped into your open mouth, curling in and dancing with your own tongue. The sensation had you whining, heart squeezing with pleasure, throat humming with sound. Larissa’s lips twitched into a smirk, smug and proud as she kissed you breathless. As she ran her hands along your sides. As she bent her knees and tucked her palms beneath your thighs, quick and smooth, before standing tall again. Taking you with her. Lifting you like Hades with his bride. Never letting your mouth leave her warmth for even a second as her muscles flexed beneath her shirt. And whatever surprised little sound you let out was quickly muffled- rectified- by a low moan from your lover’s lungs. Oh, she sounded so beautiful. So happy. So satisfied. And enraptured. And starved. Not even a tremble wracked her body as she leaned forward and kept you pinned to the wall. Pinned and spread. Your legs pressed against her curves, your thighs squeezed her waist, not letting her go even though you knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else. Even though the way your body fit against hers was something no god could ever experience. It was too good. It felt too right.

And you kissed until your lips tingled, pink and swollen and just as gorgeous as Larissa’s - both of you smeared with the red of her lipstick. The taste of her mouth, red-wined and human, lathered your tongue, making you swallow as you tried committing her to memory. But even as you leaned your head back against the wall, catching your breath, trying to relish in the feeling, Larissa continued her attack and struck gold.

Wanting lips trailed from the side of your mouth to your chin, soft and slow, running down down down until they grazed the sensitive skin of your neck and had your mouth opening with a gasp. She was ravenous but restrained, moving like a hungry snake to strike at your flesh and kiss kiss kiss her way to heaven. The little wet sounds her mouth made had your eyes rolling back, quickly falling into darkness as you closed them and hummed in delight.

“How long have you wanted this?” Larissa’s voice was gravelly, interrupted only by her soft pants. “How long have you wanted me?”

“So long,” was your whimpered response. “So long- so l-long-” there was a crack in your tone when she moved her head and decided to lick a long thick line up the side of your neck, pushing her tongue against your skin with fervor. Like she was trying to eat you. Consume you. Resist the instinct to sink her teeth into your warm flesh.

“Hm,” was the last thing you heard before Larissa removed her mouth and started to loosen her hold on your body.

Panic tugged at you.

“N-no no, what are you doing?” You shook your head, trying to tighten your hold around her. But Larissa had always been stronger and she easily let you slip away and forced your feet to touch the ground. “No no no-”

“Shh,” she murmured, running her hands up to your face. “Do as I say and get on the bed for me. Yes?”

You swallowed, resisting the urge to smile as your heart did somersaults within your chest. Yes! It’s happening! Yes yes yes finally! This is it this is it! Yes yes!

“Yes. Sure,” you nodded into her hold, blushing hard when her palms tightened around your cheeks.

There was a sudden sharp edge to her eyes as her brows set, falling to shadow her gaze.

“Yes, who?”

Yes… who? You frowned.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Yes. Who.” Larissa repeated herself, leaning down until the tip of her nose brushed yours. Her hands moved, one shifting down to tug at your waist, to bring you even closer, while the other wrapped around your chin and tightened. “Think, darling. I know you have a brain in there somewhere,” she whispered, sounding like velvet and feeling like heaven.

She was right, naturally. You did have a brain. It was half mush due to her attention, but it was still somewhat there. You took a moment to search through it. Yes who yes who yes who yes who yes- who-

“Yes, a-alpha?” Came your little squeak. It didn’t sound quite right but if she wanted to be technical about it, and if she liked that, then that was what she was.

A warm twinkling laugh met your ears. It was soft and amused, leading you to smile in reply as you admired the way Larissa’s eyes squinted with mirth. Clearly you’d gotten it wrong.

“Cute,” she nodded, “but not the one I’m looking for, sweet girl. Try again for me.”

Right. Try again. Okay. You bit your lip, growing antsy in your waiting.

“Um- Yes… Mistress?” It was a shot in the dark - and you missed.

Larissa tsked, her breath huffing against the curve of your lips as you watched her raise an eyebrow. She felt so good… so warm… you swallowed, eyes darting down to watch her lick at her lower lip.

“No, darling… Do I really need to coax it out of you?”

Then her tone changed- flipped like a tossed coin; it became high and taunting and coy as she moved her head and pressed her lips to your ear.

“Or are we both going to pretend that you don’t want to call me Mommy?”

It was said so sweetly- so slowly- that you thought you may be hallucinating. When you go to move your head back, to look into her eyes properly, the hand on your chin wraps around your throat and presses. It’s not hard, not by any means. Just the slightest pressure - barely there. A silent claim. Ownership. And Larissa doesn’t stop.

“Hm? Is that what we’re going to do sweetheart?” The hand on your hip moved down to squeeze your ass; the bite of her nails through your slip, digging into your skin, made your thighs clench- desperately trying to provide friction for an ache you had yet to take care of. “Are we going to ignore your desire for Mommy instead of Mistress?” There was a pause as she pressed a soft kiss to the shell of your ear. “Unless you want to call me Alpha-”

“No,” you gasped, quiet and quick. Alpha was not her title. She wasn’t a dog. And she wasn’t a ruthless violent angry horny authoritative creature.

She was Larissa.

She was..

She was -

“No.. Mommy.”

The noise that rumbled up from her chest made your skin run hot. It was full of deep pleasure. Like the bits of wolf that ran through her blood were very happy with your submission. So happy, in fact, that she pulled back to give you a large toothy grin.

“That’s my girl.” Came her chimed praise as the hand around your throat slid away and her fingertips went to caress the side of your face. “So obedient for me… so good…”

Yes yes yes so good always so good always hers always need her- need to be kissed by her- fucked by her- dominated by her- always-!

Your hands landed on her shoulders before you could blink, instantly going to push- push push push until she’s backing up. Spurred on only by your deep desire to see her on the bed, spread out, panting, just as wanting and desperate as you. But you don’t get very far. Maybe one or two steps backward, making you think you’d actually be able to bend her slightly to your will - but then there are strong tapered fingers wrapping around your wrists and tugging them off of her shoulders.

“Ah ah ah,” Larissa admonished, shaking her head and looking deep into your eyes. “I don’t remember you being the Mommy.” She was smug, so smug, as she turned you both around and began walking forward.

You nearly stumbled over your own feet in your haste to back up toward the bed.

“I can be the Mommy,” you grumbled, shooting her a playful glare.

It was a lie, of course. You were a strong soul, but rarely one to take full control of a sexual moment. If it was something less… kinky… then you could certainly provide pleasure; but in that moment, with every inch of your libido working against you- forcing you to desire the floor beneath your knees and the thick of Larissa’s cock in your mouth- well. That was different.

“Oh can you?” A light eyebrow rose, ticking up at the exact moment that the backs of your legs hit the side of the bed and went buckling beneath the sudden feeling.

Your hands reached up to go for her shoulders, but the iron grip around your wrists kept you suspended. Then her hands were gone, in the blink of an eye, and you were released - and Larissa watched, with a flicker of sadistic delight, as you let out a small hiccuping gasp and fell backwards onto the mattress. When you looked up at her, an unserious glare in your eyes, you felt your heart skip several beats. Back again were you in that position… with her hips so close… and her body towering… and her carmine lips curled into an evil smirk.

“You were saying, love?” God she sounded so good… So soft and perfect, with her strong accent and delicate words and good lord- you couldn’t stop staring!

The only thing standing between you and the heaven between her legs were only about three pieces of cloth that could easily be torn in half- right off of your bodies- thrown to the floor. Your hungry gaze traced the curve of her thighs- from the soft dips of her skirt’s drape, to the plush spot in which those long gorgeous legs pressed together… leading right up to…

Your fingers twitched.

Please… please let me feel… please I want- want so bad- want to- have- lick- need-

“Y/n.” You looked up. Larissa tilted her head.

“Yes?” God you sounded so hoarse-

“Yes…?” Her nostrils flared.

Oh. Right.

Warmth shot through your heart.

“Yes, Mommy?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, taking a moment to run her gaze over your face- your body- your soul. “...Tell me what you want.”

You blinked.

“What?” There’s no time for that! I need you and I need you now!

“I said,” two large palms slid into your hair, cupped the back of your head, and pulled you closer, “tell me what you want.”

She smelled so perfect. All floral-y and jasmine-y and precious and when your face was lightly pressed to the fabric of her skirt, you couldn’t help but take a deep breath and close your eyes. If heaven existed, it was most certainly between Larissa Weems’ thighs - both under her skirt and above it. Your arms, meanwhile, wrapped around the backs of her legs and curled under the skin beneath her knees, keeping her steady as she held you there. Not with enough pressure that you couldn’t breathe, but with all the intent to make you flushed. To have you panting. Thinking. Wanting.

Wanting so much… desiring so much… needing her- needing all of it- everything she’d give you-

“A-anything,” you stuttered, pulling your head back into her hold. Mmm her palms were so warm- so soft-

“Anything?” There was a gentle blush on the apples of Larissa’s cheeks - magnified only by the vague glow of your lamp. She outshined the sun, then. By far more glorious than any beautiful phenomena at dawn or dusk…

“Mhm,” you nodded, “anything.”

A bit of her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth, tucked under her teeth, bitten hard by a woman who clearly had things on her mind. Seeing you there, looking up at her as though she placed the very moon into the sky… oh she wanted to see you ruined. She wanted to see you owned. She wanted to see you begging, pleading, needing her, barely able to breathe without her in you- taking her- wanting her- calling her name- calling Mommy- Mommy-!

Falling prey to your body again, your gaze drifted back to Larissa’s waist- taking in the curves and the feminine beauty- imagining your hands gripping her hips, her thighs, her ass, pulling her closer; looking lower still to rest on- on- o- on… on…. oh… was- was that-

A bulge. Beneath her skirt. Straining against the material, held back by her waistband and her panties. Obviously hard and obviously- so obviously- big.

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Wow Ripley, way to drop this out of nowhere and end on such a vulgar note oooo.

Anyway, there will be a part IV (4). At some point. Don’t hold your breath. I love you. - Rip x

(Tell me if it’s good cuz I’ve never written smut before and I know we’re not even there yet.)

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Tag list: @weemssapphic @eveymay @enchantressb @machi-avelli @kimiinou @fyrecatz @i-wanna-be-a-deer @gwendolinechristieiscute @maviscreates @im-a-carnivorous-plant @readingtheentrails @queercodex @a-queen-and-her-throne

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#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wlw fanfic #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #heatfic #smut fic #smut #g!p #principal larissa weems

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