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comphy-and-cozy · 12 days

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down bad - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x unnamed OFC

Summary: Mat takes a late night booty call to the next level.

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY): Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), creampie. Mega simp Mat. This has barely any plot but has potential to expand into a universe, maybe? Masterlist

The Snapchat notification brightens the screen for a few moments, catching Mat’s eye even while he focuses on shooting down his opponent on-screen. Beau shouts a warning in his ear, and Mat emits a low curse when he gets sniped from behind.

After one more round, and after bidding goodbye to his friend, Mat’s attention draws back to his phone sitting on the table beside him, tapping to see who the Snapchat was from. His jaw pulses, just slightly, when he sees the name attached to the notification. Instinctually, he feels a gentle throb below the waistband of his gray sweatpants, just at the mere sight of her name.

The photo isn’t set to a timer, and Mat sends a silent thank you to the higher powers that he gets to gaze at it for as long as he desires. The foggy mirror is what he notices first, eyes quickly drawing to the generous cleavage exposed underneath the loosely-wrapped towel, a sliver of delicious skin dragging his eyes down to where the countertop regrettably cuts off the view he would have—of hip bones, leading his eyes down to the apex of two thighs he desperately wants to splay open.

There’s no caption, no commentary needed; the message is loud and clear. A calling that he responds to without fail despite his every effort to remain the nonchalant, professional athlete playboy. Obedient and eager, it’s almost Pavlovian the way his senses kick into gear when her messages come through.

Some might call him whipped, but he prefers the term ‘infatuated.’ He has been, ever since he got that first mirror selfie showing off generous curves clad in Calvin Klein underwear. He’d never admit it outside of the privacy of messages that disappear in 24 hours, but he had never come as hard as he did that night, hand gripping his length while his mind was flooded with images of that body, of those gorgeous lips, of the hips that looked like they were made for his hands.

Mat swipes through the photos he’s saved from her texts, for his eyes only. They’re more private, more sacred; selfies in bathroom mirrors with her top pulled down, videos showing a few specific details of her slutty nurse Halloween costume, and his favorite: his girl, perched on the edge of her bed, a Barzal jersey bunched up around her hips and revealing a gratuitous shot of her ass in a deep blue thong.

When he first matched with her on Raya, he never anticipated that he’d meet up with her, let alone see her multiple times after that. A free night in Chicago before a game, he was lying in the hotel room bed in search of his evening plans, in need of a good release. It was her eyes that drew him in first; the same eyes he stared into while she took him in her mouth later that evening. After finding heaven between her legs and climaxing so hard he saw stars, he told her he’d call her the next time he was in Chicago—and he meant it.

Since then, he returns dutifully to her bed when the Isles come to town, and he leaves the door unlocked for her when she travels to New York City for client visits as a CPA (hot and smart; a lethal combination). It’s become an excellent arrangement, the distance far enough to keep things casual, though on nights like tonight, when all he wants is to be buried inside her, he really wishes she was much closer.

Mat’s attention snaps back to his phone when he sees another notification come through with her name on it, and this time, the dark purple square has his heart fluttering. Clicking into the video, his heart leaps into his throat when he sees the same shot as earlier, only this time, she lets her hand slip so the white towel sags against her body. He’s practically panting, eyes glued to the way she teases him, until she drops the towel altogether.

He’s hard in an instant, flipping back to his Snapchat app to send a photo back of his sweatpant-covered erection.

‘Wish you were here,’ comes her reply. ‘In the mood to get railed.’

Swallowing thickly, Mat feels the twitch against his pelvis. He lets his mind draw back to the last time he saw her; thinking about the feeling of her perfect, wet heat gripping onto him, the way she moaned his name in his ear. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours with her, hadn’t spent enough time buried between her thighs and worshiping her the way she deserved. The way he craved to. Now, with his last trip to Chicago complete and tax season in the books, he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see her—this fall, at the earliest.

The thought flits through his mind out of nowhere. He considers it for a millisecond, then with a blink, laughs it off. Fly to see her? Tonight?

No, that would be wild, though. It’d be insane.

But you have an off-day tomorrow. You could be back before anyone would notice you’re gone.

Mat shakes his head, pushing away the impulse. He opens his phone, hoping to distract himself by scrolling on Instagram. But the thought doesn’t go away; instead, it patiently nudges at the corner of his brain, lingering until he grants it his full attention. His dick twitches again, as if it knows he’s only a few steps removed from being inside her.

A glance at the airline app can’t hurt, he thinks. Just to see if it’s even a realistic possibility.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to see when he opens the Delta app—the perfect timed flight, or a flight that doesn’t work with his schedule. A quick search confirms the former, and he can’t help but laugh out loud at the situation he’s found himself in. Mat shakes his head, the reality of his decision sinking in: are you really about to do this?

He texts her, hoping the distinction of message type symbolizes that he’s serious. The response comes a few minutes later, and he lets out an audible groan when he sees that she’s naked, an arm draped across her breasts seductively. The caption comes next: ‘This is what’s waiting for you if you do decide to come.’

Twenty minutes later, he’s pulling on a baseball cap as he shuts and locks his apartment door, small duffel bag in hand.

Once the Uber drops him off, he briefly notes that it’s strange to be using the public entrance, used to the special business aviation sector that the team used for travel. He could’ve taken a private jet, if he really wanted, but purchasing a commercial ticket was both quicker and easier. And much, much less embarrassing.

He’s halfway through the security line when the reality of what he’s about to do hits him, and he can’t help but laugh at himself. Purchasing and boarding a flight within an hour—for a booty call. Talk about impulsive. And desperate.

The question of ‘why?’ briefly flits through his mind, contemplating his life choices. But then his mind trails to those gorgeous lips, pressed against his mouth, his neck, his—

“Sir, may I please have your ID?”

Mat blinks, coming back to reality, embarrassed that he let his imagination run wild in the middle of the fucking airport. As he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, he does his best to subtly adjust the half-hard erection threatening to make an appearance, smiling innocently at the TSA agent.

If he’s recognized by anyone, no one says anything, though he keeps his head down as he finds his way to his gate. ‘Chicago’ lines the monitor, the flight number and departure times floating across the bottom of the screen. Her last text buzzes in his pocket once he takes a seat, duffel bag seated on the floor by his feet.

The text is actually a photo that has him slapping the face of his phone against his leg, glancing around to make sure no one near him is in sight of his screen. Once he’s sure he’s in safe territory, he sneaks a glance at it again, thirsty for another peek of her completely nude body, a sizable pink dildo pressed against her pouty lips.

Hurry up, the message reads. I’m getting impatient.

Mat hopes nobody notices the way he twitches beneath the dark fabric of his joggers, willing his erection to chill the fuck out as he gets in line to board the plane.

When he lands 3 hours later, Mat’s knee bounces anxiously as he glances out to watch the plane make its way down the tarmac. A quick check on his Maps app tells him he isn’t far from her apartment, and he sends a silent prayer that he can get deplaned quickly.

Waiting is excruciating, and he already has the Uber app loaded as he exits the plane, a ride called by the time he steps off of the jet bridge. Mat’s footsteps quicken when he sees the signs pointing toward baggage claim, and it isn’t long until he’s getting into a red Toyota Camry, his driver, Todd, greeting him from the front seat.

‘The door is unlocked,’ her text read. ‘I’m in the bedroom.’

The lights are off when he enters, though the light over the sink illuminates the small kitchen just enough for him to toe his shoes off and head toward the bedroom door. Mat’s heart thuds in his chest as he nears it, nears her, fingers itching to caress every inch of her body. His dick gives another wanton pulse, like it knows its wait is almost over.

What he sees when he opens the door has him speechless—and that’s hard to do to Mat Barzal.

The room is dark save for the small string of fairy lights by her window and a sandalwood candle burning on the bedside table. Flickering candlelight casts a warm glow over the room, dancing on the panoramic photo of Wrigley Field on the wall across from her bed.

But Mat isn’t looking at any of that.

Instead, his eyes are locked on his girl, lying on the bed, gazing straight at him. She’s completely naked, save for the very sheer black lace kimono, untied in the front, revealing her bareness to him entirely. Her legs are spread in a way that he has the perfect view. The warmth of the candle makes her skin look like it’s glowing, soft and golden and delicious.

This time, his dick doesn’t just twitch. It throbs.

He thinks he might’ve let out a whimper, dropping his bag on the floor; his body moves of its own accord, approaching her bed and immediately slotting between her legs. His lips are on hers before he even realizes it, unable to deny the yearning to feel her touch any longer.

“Hi,” he murmurs against her mouth. She giggles, lips curling into a smile against his own. “Missed you.”

Her reply is a hum, hands carding through his hair, hat knocked on the floor. His lips suck, lick, and nip their way over her jaw and to the place he can feel her pulse against his lips. Mat likes the way she shivers when his breath skitters over her skin, body shuddering at the sensation.

“Can’t believe you’re actually here,” she breathes, drawing his lips back up to hers for a heated kiss. The pressure mounts, his tongue desperately seeking out the seam of her mouth; involuntarily, his hips begin a slow grind, pressed right against her bare heat. There’s no hiding or denying his own rigid erection, groaning at the feeling of finally getting some friction after hours of waiting.

“Had to have you,” he whispers back. “Teasin’ me with those pictures like that.”

She moans when his mouth makes a sloppy, wet path from her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbones, landing on her breast. Mat licks and sucks every inch of skin he touches, drinking in the taste of her nipple between his lips. “Makin’ me so hard with these tits.”

“Just wanted to see if you were really whipped enough to fly here,” she purrs, raking her hand over his scalp when he takes her hardened peak between his teeth, biting down. His cheeks warm, embarrassed at the attention to just how desperate he is for her.

But he can’t deny it, so he doesn’t. Instead, he allows himself to indulge in her body, thinking that he might as well live up to his newfound title.

“Need this pussy like I need water, baby,” he says with a sleek grin, letting his hand drift between her thighs, hissing with delight when he finds her drenched. She rolls her eyes at the exaggerated comment, though she can’t ignore the flutter in her belly at his carnal need for her.

Her mouth opens to quip back, and he revels in the way a gasp usurps whatever sass she was about to deliver when he plunges a finger into her tight heat. She grips his digits snugly, squeezing him so tightly he wonders how he’s gonna fit another finger in, let alone his dick. The appendage gives another wanton throb.

The lemony jasmine of her shampoo invades his senses as his hand continues to pump, working his girl into a slow, maddening frenzy. Her back arches upward, kimono falling open so she’s all but bare to him. The slope of her breasts, curve of her waist, soft breath of her whimper draw him into her, pulling him into her trance.

Mat can tell by the high pitch in her whine that she’s bordering on desperate for something more. Slipping in another finger, he smirks against her lips when he hears the audible squelch of his digits pressing into her drenched center. The sound has his mouth watering, suddenly quenched of thirst.

Gripping the plush, soft skin of her thighs, Mat pries her legs open—“jus’ a little more for me, sweetheart”—to make room for his broad shoulders before shifting his body down until he’s at eye-level with her waiting, wanting core. He doesn’t wait for her whimper before he’s pressing his face against her, moaning when his tongue tastes her slick.

His girl is divine, her pussy a certain, secret entrance to the pearly gates. Each lap of his tongue isn’t nearly enough to curb his addiction, the craving never satiated. Her fingers twist into the long locks of his hair, tugging and pulling him exactly where she needs him; he’s pliant, moldable, eager to please. He’d devour her cunt whole, if he could.

Unabashed moans encourage Mat to allow his fingers to rejoin his tongue, teasing the swollen nub at the apex of her gorgeous, heavenly slit. He drinks in her nectar like it’s the elixir of life, greedy and indulgent. The soft moans that he coaxes from her throat are just an added bonus.

He’s precise, paying close attention to the way she reacts to each flick of his tongue, each twist of his fingers. Between the choked gasps slipping from her pretty lips and the way her thighs tighten around his head, he knows he’s close—that she’s close.

Another long, languid suck of her clit sends her hurtling into orgasm, spine arching off of the mattress. Mat’s hand rests firmly on her hip, holding her in place even despite the way her body writhes with the force of her release; he savors the taste of her flooding his mouth.

Mat loses track of how many times he makes her come, flooding his mouth with her nectar. Three? Four? Five? His jaw aches, his mouth, chin and cheeks glistening with evidence of her arousal like he’s at a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet. He wishes Lou would let him grow a beard so he could taste her on his face for hours.

“Matty,” she sighs, and he can hear in her voice that she’s done with the foreplay. Her hands weakly tug at the cotton of his t-shirt in an attempt to draw him up to her. He obeys, pressing his mouth to her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue; as he does, the clothed tip of his erection bumps against her open, waiting center, and she whines.

“I know, baby,” he coos, massaging the inside of her thigh with a large hand. She’s practically putty underneath his touch. “Wanna fuck you so bad I think my dick might fall off.”

“Too many clothes,” she says, voice still distant and hazy from her orgasms. Mat feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the way she weakly paws at his clothes, fingers searching for purchase in the cotton of his t-shirt. She’s right, though, and he wrenches his body from hers in favor of pulling his shirt over his head.

Heat floods her eyes and Mat watches the way her gaze falls to the cut lines of his muscle, shamelessly running over the abs and the biceps he’s worked so hard on. He’d be lying if he didn’t think of her—think of this—on the early mornings he dreaded getting out of bed to workout; the thought of her lips, her hips, her body never failing to encourage him to do one more rep. Mat knows his role, his duty, as the professional athlete: maintain the god-like physique that has her all but drooling.

And when she looks at him like that, how is he supposed to deny it?

Mat shimmies his pants off, palming his aching erection through his boxer briefs. His girl’s hand reaches up to aid him, the thin material barely a barrier between her skin and his, and he can’t help but groan at the contact.

“How long have you had this?” she purrs, stroking him leisurely. He can hardly process her words and she’s barely touched him.

“Since—fuck—since you sent me that picture.” His voice is more of a choked whisper, breath hitching in his throat when she offers him an affectionate squeeze.

“But that was hours ago, Matty,” she says, but the evil glint in her eye tells him that she isn’t really feeling sympathy for him; instead, there’s smug pride hidden behind a coy smile. “You must be desperate.”

All Mat can do is hum in response, every nerve on heightened alert as her hand drags slow, languid lines up and down his length. He knows if he opens his mouth, only nonsensical gibberish is going to come out and probably ruin the moment.

“Desperate enough to fly from Long Island to Chicago just to fuck me,” she continues musing. “I’m flattered.”

Pulling himself together—eyes closing when she gives him a squeeze—Mat steels himself to say, “Best pussy I’ve ever had. ‘Course I’m desperate for you.”

“Aww, Matty,” she says with a wry, teasing smile. “You have such a way with words.”

Impatience huffs out of Mat’s lips, doing his best to suppress a whine and a plea to please, grant him some relief. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

Her fingers dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging it down before he’s hurriedly shucking the material down his hips. “You gonna be polite?”

“Please,” he tacks on, pressing himself forward to connect his lips with hers, needing something—anything—to take the edge off. “Please, baby, swear I’ll fuck you so good.”

His girl hums, returning his kiss, letting his tongue slide into her mouth; symbolic in its action as he teases, dragging the muscle in and out in intentional, suggestive motions. He shifts his approach, letting his voice take on the sickly sweet, honeyed purr that she loves. “Know you want it, sweet girl. Bet you’re jus’ drippin’ for it, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

If Mat had a single ounce of resistance left in him, he’d tease her back, but he can’t draw out his own torture any longer. He lets his hand trail down her body, meeting her own that’s wrapped around his hard, bare length. His fingers brush against her, placing themselves over her hand before guiding himself toward the apex of her thighs. She smiles against his mouth, exhaling softly as his tip broaches her entrance.

“Think I can hear her purring for me,” he says, pressing his hips forward to plunge into her with a groan. A gasp leaves her mouth, hands quickly finding purchase in the dips of his shoulders. The feeling of her walls gripping him tightly nearly makes his eyes roll back in his head.

There isn’t a whisper of a retort on her tongue, his quick-witted girl rendered speechless with him sheathed inside her. As much as he loves her quick wit and feisty attitude, he can’t deny that it’s extremely satisfying to be the one to shut her up.

For awhile, he’s content to simply stay that way, feeling the way her walls flutter around him, her body silently begging for more. But then she remembers how to speak, saying, “Mat, fuck me.”

It takes a moment to ensure he isn’t going to completely ruin everything by finishing immediately, but once he does, he lets his hips tick forward, then back, then forward again. He works the pace up to one that earns a lusty gasp in his ear, arms holding himself above her, silver chain dangling between his neck and her chin.

“Squeezin’ onto me like your life depends on it, baby,” he grunts. “Fuck, this cunt is so worth the 3 hour flight. Would charter a private jet just to have it in my bed every single night.”

She hums, responding by wrapping her legs around his waist, welcoming him deeper. “Better make the most of it then, Barzal.”

And, well, when she puts it like that.

Mat fucks her slow, fucks her fast, doing his best to remember everything he’s thought about doing to her since he kissed her goodbye when he slipped out of her apartment two months ago. His voice is low in her ear, filthy words strung together between nips at her neck and sloppy, heated kisses against her mouth. She feels so fucking good, and he makes sure to tell her that—communication has always been one of his stronger points.

He presses his hips firmly against the backs of her thighs, burying himself as deep as he can go. His hands wander freely, one making a path between her neck and her breast, the other languidly trailing along the slope of her ass.

Her ass. Of course.

Lost in the euphoria of seeing her, touching her, tasting her, he’d almost forgotten about his very favorite body part of hers—the one he thought about on nights where he missed her, furiously fisting his length, that never failed to bring him to orgasm. Slowing his hand’s movements, he matches his smooth strokes to the tempo of his fingers kneading the globes of her ass.

She loves it. He can tell in the way her hips roll, grinding herself against him, a feral-sounding moan coming from deep in her throat. Mat can practically feel the orgasm building inside of her, keeping his movements careful and precise, unwilling to change a single thing; he can’t tame the desire to feel her come around him.

“Matty,” she whimpers, a hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. His eyes glance down to the movement, cursing lowly at the sight. “M’close.”

“Yeah, baby? You gonna come for me? Come on my cock after I flew all this way just to fuck you?”

If she tries to answer, nothing comes out other than another moan. Her eyes squeeze shut, and he imagines the fireworks that will soon dance beneath her eyelids. Fingers stroke at her soft skin, almost as if he’s willing her orgasm into existence. He lowers his voice to murmur, “I’ve been dreaming about feeling you come all over me for weeks, baby. It’s the least you can do.”

When she reaches the precipice, her body freezes beneath him, time standing still for a millisecond as she shatters. He can almost feel the way it courses through her, the way her pussy clamps onto him so tightly he sees stars of his own.

It’s glorious. Sinfully, decadently, maddeningly exquisite.

Mat’s patient with her comedown, whispering soft words of encouragement, hips resuming a gentle motion that probes her sensitive core. She whines, pawing at his shoulder to push him away. Her voice is gentle, a soft command. “Matty.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky smile. “Y’feel too good.”

He’s aware, though, wants to give her a moment of reprieve before he bends her over the way he wants to. So, he suppresses a huff as he pulls out of her delicious heat, distracting himself from the loss by kissing her hotly. She seems distracted, too, sighing into his mouth, enjoying the way it feels like he’s devouring her whole.

“Wanna fuck you from behind,” he murmurs against her lips. “Watch this ass bounce on me.”

Mat helps her up, allowing her to tear her lips away from his in favor of flipping over. Once she’s settled on her hands and knees, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight, he takes a moment to admire the view: pussy glistening with the remnants of her orgasm, framed by the globes of her perfect ass. Heaven.

“Gotta be inside you,” he says, a statement that’s more like a declaration.

“Quit making me wait.”

His eyebrow raises. “Thought we were being polite.”

“You are. I can be whatever I want,” she shoots back with a smile. His dick gives another mild twitch.

Mat hums. “Guess I better give the lady what she wants, then.”

Judging by the way she’s backing up to meet him, he assumes she’s had plenty of reload time and slips back into her. This time, he doesn’t take his time to ramp up, instead setting a grueling pace from the start, his hands gripping tightly onto her hips.

A groan, followed by a loud curse. “Think about this every damn day. You, taking it from behind like this. Bent over jus’ for me.”

Her reply is to lean forward farther, spreading her arms forward onto the mattress and opening herself to him even more. Mat accepts the invitation to drive deeply into her, hips slapping loudly against the back of her thighs. The thought of her neighbors briefly flits through his mind, but another glance back down at her ass has that consideration slipping away as quickly as it came. He doesn’t care who hears or who he wakes up; hell, he’d be fine telling the entire world that he gets to fuck her.

“Since you came all this way, you deserve a treat,” she says, twisting her head to glance over her shoulder at him. The sight of her peachy, round ass and her bedroom eyes looking up at him makes his balls tighten.

“And what might that be?” Mat accentuates the question by squeezing her hips tightly. He swallows down the comment that this, here, being inside of her, is already reward enough.

“I’ll let you come inside.”

Since their trysts began, she’s made Mat relieve himself elsewhere—her chest, her ass, her face; his mind briefly flits to each, reminiscing on the mental snapshot he took each time. The thought of not just not having to pull out moments before the strongest climaxes of his life, but at the idea of finishing inside of her is enough to have his heart pulsing rapidly in his chest.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” he says with a grin, leaning forward to brush his lips against her ear. The action presses him even deeper inside of her, his hips snug against the curve of her ass as he whispers, “Fuck my load deep inside this perfect little cunt?”

She nods, mouth opening in a silent gasp when he gives a particularly hard thrust. “Yeah. Wanna feel you, Matty.”

Her eyes shoot open when he pauses his movements, glancing back at him in protest when he pulls away. Both hands pull lightly on her hips, encouraging her to flip over onto her back. When she does, her eyes catch his and he smiles.

“Wanna see your face when I come,” he says with a shrug, easing himself back into her waiting core.

“Oh, he’s down bad.”

He laughs, face crinkling into a smile despite the way the burn of euphoria builds in his stomach. A hand drags down the outside of her leg, tucking her calf around his hip. “Fuck off.”

“Are you gonna come in me or not?”

“You begging for it?”

The four words dramatically change the mood; Mat watches her eyes darken as they sink in. Like he gave a secret code to have her submissive and pliant beneath him. Her voice is barely above a whisper, her lips pouty. “Please, Matty.”

Mat slows his hips, savoring the way her pussy sucks him in, greedy. He can’t help the grin that curls up on his face, watching the way her eyebrows knit together. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please, baby,” she whines, “wanna feel you come in me. I—I need it.”

He hums. “Been dreaming about filling this tight pussy up for months, baby. Wanna watch my cum drip out of this slutty little cunt.”

“Please,” is her whispered plea—quiet and desperate.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he says with a smirk. The pace of his hips increase, balls tightening with the threat of his climax. He listens to her moans, the sound of his skin against hers, the rustle of the sheets beneath his knees. His girl’s hands tighten around his shoulders, holding onto him as she absorbs the weight of his thrusts, body shifting up and down on the mattress.

Mumbles of her name, of obscenities, flow out of his mouth, low murmurs in her ear. His rhythm starts to falter, no longer a steady metronome but a series of sloppy, uneven thrusts as Mat finds it harder and harder to stay focused.

The release starts deep in his core, bursting through with a loud groan as he finally meets his end, reveling in the feeling of spilling inside of her. It’s freeing to have no barriers between him and her, to feel her in all of her pure, whole self, the way she contracts tightly around him as her own final climax barrels through her. Mat’s vision goes fuzzy, and for a moment he’s pretty sure his soul ascends out of his body.

It occurs to Mat that he’s slumped on top of her, panting into the crook of her neck while soft, small hands trace lazy lines up and down his spine. The touch ignites his nerve endings, sending another wave of consciousness through his system. Her nails drag delicious, soothing lines onto his scalp, and he feels his throat vibrate against her collarbone in a moan. His vision gradually grows from fuzzy to just a bit of a haze when he peels his eyes open.

“Baby, that was the—”

“Hardest you’ve ever come?”

Mat blinks, fully back in reality now, shifting his head to look at her in disbelief. “How did you know?”

She chuckles, lips brushing against his ear. “You said that last time, too.”

#mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #hockey smut #nhl fanfiction

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zepskies · 3 months

Text

Take Me Home - Part 1

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now. I’m so glad I finally get to start sharing this with you! I truly hope you enjoy the ride. (Note: This is set towards the beginning of season 3.)

Song Inspo: “Fly Away” by John Denver. And remember, you can listen to the full Take Me Home Playlist ⬅️ here.

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of setup, “Glamper Girl,” and a side helping of cops enjoying baked goods…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 1: All of Her Days

“This really feels like cheating,” you mused.

Yet again, you surveyed the sheer size and luxury of this tent you were supposed to be “camping” in.

Between the giant king-sized bed with crème and burgundy comforters, a two-seater dining table, a dresser (with a vanity), and even a small bookshelf, it looked like the Taj Mahal of glamping.

“Can’t you just enjoy it?” your best friend replied, poking a teasing finger into your side. She smirked when you flinched and gave her some playful side-eye. “My parents are the ones footing the bill, anyway.”

“Of which, I intend to pay them back for my half,” you said. Mary just rolled her eyes and waved you off. Her parents’ money was something she’d never had a problem spending.

“Come on, they’re getting ready to go on the hike without us,” she said, tossing her little purse over her shoulder. You were a bit more practical with your backpack, filled with a bottle of water, a couple snacks, bug spray, and your sketch pad.

Mary bumped your shoulder with hers as you two walked out of the tent, and you gave her a smile. You were glad she insisted on this little week-long excursion. It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

“So where are you guys from?” you asked a couple of walking companions on the early-morning hike.

The woods of Helena, Montana were vast and deep, and you found them a bit intimidating. You were a city girl, through and through, but you were learning to appreciate the mountains and the steep trails flanked by dense trees. You were also grateful that you weren’t alone.

Emily seemed to be a nice girl around sixteen, while her stepfather Avery was a lightly graying man in his 40s. You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke's attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

“Well, I met her mother in Houston,” Avery replied, nodding at the girl beside you. “She and Emily joined me here in Helena after we were married this past spring.”

Emily confirmed with a nod. “Yep, starting school here in a few months.”

At that, you could smile. “Me too, actually.”

Emily gave you a confused look while she fiddled with an app on her phone.

“What? You’re still in school?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m—”

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

Emily tried not to smile at your expense. You just shook your head at your friend.

“Thanks,” you said wryly, despite your amusement. “We can’t all be personal trainers. One can only take so much Spandex.”

Mary rolled her eyes and prepared to fire back a retort, but your attention shifted back to Emily, who seemed to be debating whether to press a red button on her phone. You thought it looked like a voice recording app.

You followed her line of vision and saw Paige and Luke up ahead—a young “happy couple” here at Sunny Day Excursions. They were whisper-yelling at each other, sniping something about Luke’s birthday. Apparently, he had a problem with getting another year older.

Don’t we all, you thought, with no small amount of sarcasm. The guy had been a sour apple since the start of this trip, and to be honest, he was starting to get on your damn nerves.

“This is like, prime time stuff for my podcast,” Emily whispered.

You looked over at her. “Oh yeah? What’s your podcast about?”

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

You almost grimaced. Good luck finding willing subjects for that one.

Mary snickered on your other side. She leaned close to your ear so only you would hear.

“God, Paige’s voice is so effing annoying. Like a chipmunk on helium,” she said. “I feel sorry for him.”

You shot her a dry look. “He’s the one asking for it, if you ask me. But they’ve been going at it the whole time. Makes me feel sorry for both of them.”

You shook your head and kept walking on the trail. Mary sobered as she stared back at you. She was reminded of why you two were really here, and what you’d been through this past year…

What you all had been through.

You and Mary fell behind Avery and Emily on the trail, giving Mary the opportunity to touch your arm and stop you in the middle of the trail.

“Do you really plan to stay here?” she asked. “In dusty-ass Montana? With the snakes and the bears and the old hicks?”

“Well, I got the key to my apartment before we got here,” you said. And she knew that. “My aunt is letting me crash with her until the rest of my things ship over in a couple of weeks, and I start a new job in the fall. So yeah, I’m staying.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She gave you a long look, but you held your ground. You even popped your Airpods in for good measure. You were done with this conversation.

She huffed and kept walking.

You watched your friend go in annoyance. You knew she would try to talk you out of your decision at some point on this trip, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Heaving a sigh, you looked up at the clear sky above you, filtered through the tall trees. You took a moment to collect yourself in this great big no man’s land, where you could finally let yourself slow down for a minute, and breathe.

You raised the volume in your Airpods when a particular song came through.

“All of her days have gone soft and cloudy. All of her dreams have gone dry,” crooned the soft melody. You nodded to the rhythm of the mellow notes, but all the while, you tried to blink through the sting of tears.

“All of her nights have gone sad and shady. She's getting ready to fly…”

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

“It’s really okay, sweetie,” Mary tried to console you, rubbing her hand between your shoulders.

After the hike, you all had returned to camp and sat down to brunch. It was an amazing spread, with waffles and muffins and Danishes, eggs done three different ways, toast with jam, assorted sandwiches, coffee and orange juice (and sparkling wine for the adults).

But even with a huge plate of appetizing food in front of you, you were sulking a bit. You had your face covered by your hands as you rested your elbows on the table.

“One of my only goals on this trip was to ride a damn horse, and I couldn’t even do that,” you said.

Sunny Barnes and her husband Buck were the heads and hosts of this whole trip. And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse.

In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

You hadn’t been able to speak. You just shook your head vigorously every time Cormack asked you if you were okay.

So he’d graciously patted your back and gave the mare to Emily instead.

“I’ve never been able to ride a horse either,” Avery offered in commiseration. You lowered your hands and gave him a wan smile.

Emily was carving an apple with an impressive (and somewhat scary) looking pocketknife. She shrugged.

“It’s not so hard,” she said. But, perhaps realizing how she sounded, she looked up and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get it! It’s hard in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it’s like riding a bike.”

Right. A bike with hooves, you thought, ripping a piece of bread from your egg and cheese sandwich.

Mary bumped your shoulder with a teasing smile. “You just got showed up by a high schooler. Again.”

You pursed your lips in amusement. You tossed the piece of bread. It hit her dead between the eyes. You giggled at the way she jumped with a start.

“Real mature,” she shot back.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a giant bite of your sandwich for good measure. “I learned from you.”

Even Emily snickered, making Mary roll her eyes in amusement.

Shortly after, Avery and his stepdaughter were finished with brunch and got up to get back to their tents.

You glanced over and noticed that Emily had left her knife on the table, now closed in its sheath.

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

He’d agreed to accompany Cassie, the local private investigator (and his friend), up to this mountain pass to look for a missing backpacker. Questioning Buck and Sunny Barnes and their crew was just good old-fashioned, thorough police work.

But if it also gave Beau a chance to check on his daughter up here “glamping” with her half-baked stepfather, then he couldn’t pass up on that opportunity, now could he?

After talking to Buck and Sunny, who hadn’t seen hide or hair of the backpacker, Beau let Cassie take care of questioning Cormack Barnes while Beau found his daughter outside her tent. After giving her a big hug and inspecting her “tent” (Really? he thought. Looks more like a hotel room than a tent.), he asked her how her trip was going so far.

“Good, Dad. But you really didn’t have to come all the way out here just to check up on me,” Emily said. She was amused, but no longer surprised to see him.

“No, no, no. I didn’t, okay?” Beau refuted. Though at the look on her face, he knew he wasn’t fooling her. She was a sharp kid. “All right, maybe not the only reason. We had to talk to Sunny about a missing backpacker. It’s something Cassie’s investigating.”

Emily’s amusement faded into surprise, and then concern.

“Wait, what?” she said.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just, you know…parents probably didn’t get the memo that ‘off-the-grid’ was part of the deal,” he said, giving her a meaningful raise of his brows. Maybe his daughter didn’t have to screen so many of his calls while she was on this trip.

“Overprotective parents, huh?” Emily dryly remarked.

“The worst,” Beau agreed, shaking his head.

But he smiled. Just seeing her made his whole week better…and it alleviated some of the hurt in his heart. Not getting to be with her on a trip like this stung. And knowing Avery was the one who got to be there for her grated on him.

Beau was already missing too much of his daughter’s life, and he still wasn’t too sure on how to deal with that.

Speak of the devil, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avery approaching. Beau forced himself to look as close to pleasant as he could get around his ex-wife’s husband.

While Mary went back to the tent to freshen up, you grabbed Emily’s pocketknife and went to look for her so you could return it. It had a wood-carved hilt and had her initials, E. A., engraved on the side. The knife looked special, not the kind of thing you wanted to lose.

You found her outside her tent with her stepfather, and a man you didn’t know. He had broad shoulders and short brown hair that swept above his brow. When he turned to look at you, the first thing you noticed was the cut of his bearded chin, and then the green of his eyes.

You didn’t realize it, but your insides stilled, just for a moment. Then you remembered to smile.

Avery looked a bit tense, as did the newcomer. You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete.

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry,” you said, and extended the sheathed knife toward Emily. “Just wanted to get this back to you. You left it at the table.”

“Oh! Thanks,” Emily said gratefully.

“Well, hi there,” said the new guy. He was tall, you noted, wearing a beige jacket over a buttoned-down shirt, some jeans, and boots. It was a casual look, but all worked very well for him…in a rugged cowboy sense.

“This is my dad,” Emily supplied.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am,” he said, giving you a more friendly smile that you matched in kind when you shook his hand. You also gave him your name to go along with it.

“You here for a little belated vacation, Sheriff?” you added.

“No. Matter of fact, I’m here on police business,” he replied. That concerned you, but he was quick to wave a dismissive hand. “Everything’s okay here. Just checking on a missing backpacker. But it looks like we’ll have to continue our search for him elsewhere.”

You hummed at that in concern. “Well, I hope you find him.”

“I do too,” he agreed with a nod.

Then, Emily took the slight pause in the conversation as her chance to escape.

“Okay, Dad, well, we’re gonna go hike down to the lake,” she said, gesturing at Avery. “But as you can see, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Beau’s smile became a bit tight, but he nodded in understanding. He gave her a big hug, and you could see he was reluctant to let her go. Avery stood behind them. He held tension in his shoulders. You felt a bit awkward yourself, being in the midst of what was clearly an uneasy family dynamic.

Beau released his daughter. After she took off with Avery following close behind, Beau turned to you next. You tried not to blush at the sight of his handsome face.

“Sorry, again,” you said, raising a placating hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

His lips twitched upward, and he shook his head. “You’re fine. Though you don’t look like a local. You from outta town?”

I could say the same thing about you, cowboy, you thought. There was a slight southern drawl in his voice that sounded like Alabama. Maybe Texas?

“You got me,” you nodded. “I’m from Chicago originally, but…I’ve actually just moved here to Helena.”

“Ahh, a city girl,” he remarked. “Small world. I just got here a few months ago myself. Houston, Texas.”

Your smile brightened. Right on the money.

“Yeah, I figured,” you couldn’t help teasing him a little. His grin kicked up in the corner.

“How’re the mountains and fresh air treating you then?” he asked. “Better than that blanket a’ smog in Chicago.”

“We do not have smog…or, well, not that much,” you laughed, “but yes, I’m actually really liking it here so far. I mean, I just got here about a week ago. I’m still learning. Though Emily actually tried to help me ride a horse today.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised. “How’d that go?”

You had to laugh. A kind of self-deprecating laugh that had you half-covering your face to stem off your blush.

“Not well,” you admitted.

Beau ducked his head with a smile. He met your eyes in amusement, but not without kindness.

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.”

You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

It made you blush in earnest.

“Ah. Good to know,” you said with a laugh. He treated you with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“Hey,” someone called out.

Both of your heads turned to a tall black woman with long curly hair. She gave you a polite smile before she nodded up at Beau.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ah, yep,” Beau nodded. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta get back to the station.”

“Oh, of course,” you said. But you held up a finger. “Wait, just a sec.”

You hastened back over to the table of confections from brunch and offered them a chocolate chip muffin each for the road. Cassie politely declined, but Beau gladly took his.

“Although, are you trying to stereotype me or somethin’?” he teased.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but after a moment, it hit you. You’d just given a cop a baked good.

“At least it wasn’t a donut,” you quipped, despite your embarrassment. Beau still looked bemused, but he let you off the hook.

“That’s okay. I’ve never been known to turn down free food,” he assured.

“He really doesn’t,” Cassie confirmed. You noticed how she was waiting, arms crossed.

“Well, there you go! Sorry for keeping you,” you said.

“Not at all, darlin’,” said Beau. His smile had a charming gleam. “Nice to meet you.”

You quirked a smile back. “Wow, you are from Texas.”

You didn’t think you’d ever been called darlin’ in your life.

Beau’s good humor shifted into slight embarrassment himself.

“Sorry. I’ve been told to stop doing that,” he said. When he chuckled, you did along with him. You weren’t offended by it, just surprised by the old-fashioned endearment.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Nice to meet you too, Sheriff.”

You raised a hand in goodbye, and Beau returned it, watching you go. Meanwhile, Cassie watched him with a small smirk. He stepped down from the short platform in front of Emily’s tent to meet her.

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Beau shot her a look of denial. “I did no such thing. I’m a professional. And a gentleman, mind you.”

Cassie rose a brow at him. It stirred up a bit of his defensiveness.

“But, I’ll have you know that Em had already moved on when I had a friendly conversation with the glamper,” he said.

Cassie rolled her eyes. Right.

That afternoon, you decided to bring your sketchpad and your modest collection of paints to the lake. You sat on the bank and tried to paint, while Mary joined the others in swimming.

“That looks nice,” Emily’s voice startled you from behind.

You twisted to look at her, and she gave you an apologetic look. She was dressed to go for a swim in a one-piece bathing suit and some shorts. She seemed more of a conservative dresser than typical high school girls her age. Maybe that had something to do with a policeman being her father, or maybe that was just her personality.

“Sorry,” she said, raising her hands.

“It’s okay.” You waved it off and gestured for her to sit beside you if she wanted. She did so, admiring your work over your shoulder. You felt a little embarrassed by it, but you didn’t mind her watching you try to paint ripples of light on the water.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

You shot her a smile. “You’re very sweet, but no. I just started this year.”

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy. You just knew that if you did, your aunt would probably tell your parents, who would never let you hear the end of it. Specifically, why it was a waste of time. Your father especially would have something to say.

But one of the sources you found suggested trying out some creative outlets to calm the mind and think productively, but not create more stress for yourself. You’d tried a few different things, but landed on painting. It was working for you so far, even if you didn’t think you were that good.

“How do you like Montana so far?” you asked your companion. “Your dad told me you guys just moved here too, a few months ago.”

“Yeah, when my mom got remarried, my dad moved to stay close to me,” Emily explained.

Your brows raised. Your painting hand paused with the brush near the page.

“Well, that’s a good father,” you said. You smiled at the thought of Beau Arlen. The way he hugged his daughter before, like she was his entire world, and the fact that he’d moved entire states just to stay with her, told you a great deal about the town’s new sheriff.

Emily nodded, but her lips were pressed. “He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Well, he is a cop,” You said, smiling. “I assume that’s just part of the package.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s just…a bit much sometimes.”

You gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand. My dad can be like that too. He’s got his soft moments, but he can be a real tough nut too… He’s a retired fireman.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” Emily said. She looked impressed. “Did you ever want to be a firefighter?”

You chuckled. “No, and he never wanted me to. It just wasn’t my beat, anyway.”

In the many years before your father had risen in the ranks to firehouse chief, your mother had often worried about him when he was on shift. Being a firefighter in inner-city Chicago had brought some hard and dangerous calls.

But you had always been more bookish, and both your parents were grateful for that.

You sighed. Your paintbrush made a stroke of deep green on the page, creating darker shades in the bottom of the lake.

“I did end up dating one though. Almost married him too,” you muttered, before you could stop yourself. You forgot you were talking to an insatiably curious girl.

“Really? What happened?” she asked. You looked over at her, and she was staring at you with her full attention. You remembered then that her podcast was supposed to be about relationships, but you had no desire to be a subject.

“It didn’t work out,” you said at last, and with difficulty.

“Why?” Emily asked.

Your internal struggle kept you quiet. It gave time for Emily to really see the withdrawn, almost pained look on your face, the slight hunch of your shoulders. She deflated guiltily.

“Uh, sorry,” she said.

You offered a small smile. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I’ll uh, just let you get back to painting,” she said. You waved her goodbye after she got up and left, giving you one last look before she joined her stepfather in the lake.

You let out a deep breath. The teen was tenacious, and naturally curious. That in itself wasn’t such a bad thing. But as you watched her splash at Avery, laughing that weightless laugh that kids got to have, you realized how much you missed being that young and free in your heart.

Again, out of habit, you set down your brush and rubbed at your empty left ring finger.

Mary finally joined you back in your shared tent after a long night of socializing by the fire. You had kept to the tent, reading Much Ado About Nothing for one of your classes that would start in the fall. It wasn’t your first time reading the Shakespeare play, by any means, but you did want to brush up on it.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to be vacationing on this vacation,” Mary pointed out. She started changing into her pajamas for bed. You were already cozy in one of your old college hoodies and some shorts, not to mention snuggled under the warm blankets.

“I am,” you said defensively. “I hiked, I painted, I ate no less than one burger, a basket of fries, and three smores, and now I’m reading.”

“Yeah, for school,” she pointed out. “I may not be as smart as you, but I know homework when I see it.”

You shot her a smile. “You’re plenty smart, M.”

She snorted and slipped into bed beside you. It felt like the sleepovers you two used to have in college, years ago, when she’d come to crash in your dorm, or you in hers. She’d been a philosophy major (despite not giving two shits about Socrates), forced to attend college by her parents. You were an English major, working three part-time jobs just to get you through until graduation.

“Hey,” she said, laying a hand on your shoulder. You turned to her in question. She seemed more serious than usual.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And I’m not the only one.”

You sighed. Lowering your book, you leaned back against your pillows and stared up at the tent’s fairy lights.

“I know,” you replied. “But you don’t need to be.”

“Yeah you keep saying that, but you know the real reason I’m here, right?” Mary asked. Her insistent hand on your arm made you meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this," she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head.

“I’m not going to change my mind. So if that’s really why you’re here, and not to just spend some time with me, as my friend, then you should just go home,” you said. “I’ll leave here and go to my aunt’s house. I’m sure your parents can negotiate some kind of refund.”

Mary got angry and huffy, just like you thought she would. You weren’t playing around though. This was your life, and your decision.

If your friends and your family couldn’t be happy for you, or at least understanding, then they could at least respect you. You just weren’t sure when they’d get the hint that this was real.

You were moving to Montana, permanently.

On the drive back into town from the camping site, Beau ate his chocolate chip muffin and tried his best to listen to Cassie—to her theories on where the backpacker might’ve gone, and how best to tell the parents to keep her on this investigation.

A good part of him was still thinking about his daughter, wishing he could be there with her right now.

And maybe, his mind occasionally wandered…thinking about the pretty shade of your eyes when you smiled at him.

AN: And there we have it, Part 1 of a new series! If you liked it, please let me know! 🥰

And a special Happy Birthday to @jackles010378! 💖 I was going to say we're both Aries (mine is next month) but forgot Pisces comes first lol. ♓

Next Time:

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 2

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#All of Her Days #Take Me Home #Part 1 #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #Emily Arlen #cassie dewell #beau arlen x you #Beau Arlen smut #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #zepskies writes

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shitposttcentral · 13 days

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What The RDR2 Characters Would Do At Pride || pt 3

Orville Swanson - He's there to preach that God loves all his children ESPECIALLY his gay children. Tells the homophobes they should be ashamed of themselves. Gives out lots of hugs and becomes AA sponsor to a person or two by the end of the night. Karen Jones - Is scouting for a gay best friend. Arthur gently tells her how that's not cool and she stops and is instead just having a good time. Gets super drunk with Sean and joins in the "I LOVE GAY PEOPLE" "I HAVE GAY FRIENDS" stuff being overly friendly to every person until they're taken home. Has a wicked hangover and a sunburn the next day. Javier Esculla - Insists he's just there to support his friends but he ends up with some guys number and it makes him really question some things. John Marston - I love my bisexual wife T-Shirt. Proudly tells everyone his wife is bisexual. Isn't she beautiful? She's bisexual. I love her so much. Jack Marston - Got to get his face painted, eat lots of candy, and watch a parade. So basically it's the best day ever and when Abigail and John come to tuck him into bed later he says he wishes every day was pride. Molly O'Shea - Sitting under a tree writing poetry at a pride festival is actually the perfect place to find a girlfriend apparently. The gang looked for her at the end of the night only to see a selfie of her and some stunning masc woman with the caption don't wait up. They ended up in a serious relationship. Leopold Strauss - Attempts to take up collections for a "queer children charity". Hosea spots that real fast and gets him to give back the money and get the fuck out. He's no longer in the group chat. Penelope Braithwaite - Counter-protesting the protestors. Shouting over them so no one has to hear their bullshit. Holding up signs in support of LGBT individuals. She is the ultimate ally. Beau Gray - Was Penelope's ride so he stayed to hold up a sign during her protest and make sure they were all okay. When things wound down and they stopped the protest the two of them met up with Arthur and the gang to hang out for a while.

#orville swanson #karen jones #javier escuella #jack marston #john marston #molly o'shea #leopold strauss #penelope braithwaite #beau gray #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #don't like dont read

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disasterpurplebois · 20 days

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“I think the smartest thing to do in this situation is to just eliminate the offender,” Essek said as he lifted his mug to take a sip. The steam fogged up his glasses for a moment before clearing up and giving Essek a view of the woman across from him.

Yasha shook her head, her braids and beads clanking softly. “But what if I just chop the heads off? Then I can put them on display.” She pushed the tray of cookies towards Essek. “Try these, I just got the new recipe from Martina.”

Essek reached a hand out and plucked a still-warm cookie from the top of the pile. “Alas, no, cutting off the heads won’t kill them, their roots go deep. I’m sorry, Yasha, but you’ll have to rip them up if you want to protect your tomatoes.”

Yasha sighed. “I suppose I can dig them up and plant them somewhere else in the garden, away from the vegetables.” She glanced across the kitchen table and out into the back garden at the offending plants.

Essek noted that the garden was flourishing, much better than his own. He tried to employ the tips Yasha gave him but he found that growing vegetables required much more work than the simple picturesque flowers he planted at Caleb’s cottage.

“Do you want to take some more green bean plants when you—” Yasha started to say. Her voice was cut off by the sound of the front door slamming open and heavy footfalls entering the house. Essek heard Beauregard grunt a question to which Yasha answered, “in the kitchen, babe.”

Beauregard rounded the corner, clad in her blue and gray Expositor robes. She was clutching a stack of notebooks and looked a little wild-eyed when she entered the kitchen. She dropped a quick kiss to the crown of Yasha’s head before turning to Essek.

“Yo, Hot Boi, you gotta get home. Caleb got a message from that druid lady in Tal’dorei and it sounds like he needs you for something. I have to review these notes from what we found the Archive today. We’re on to something, there’s definitely a connection to Molaesmyr.” The Expositor kicked out another chair at the kitchen table and plopped down, already flipping open one of the notebooks and tapping her chin. Yasha got up and set another cup of tea down at Beau’s elbow before walking Essek out to the front door. She pressed a basket of green beans into Essek’s arms and waved at him from the doorway.

“I put Martina’s cookie recipe in the bottom, if you want to try it for yourself.”

Essek waved back to her and hurried away down the street, his mind already swirling with the possibilities of what Keyleth of the Air Ashari might want with him. Something to do with another Beacon? More about that echo backpack being used by the Exultant Thule? Did she have a location on Ludinus? Oh, how his mind raced with the unending potential.

He rushed down the busy streets, reminding himself several times that Caleb would have messaged if it were life-threatening. But, then, Essek was still a little shaken up by the recent events with Trent Ikithon, and he hadn’t even been present for the encounter. Maybe Caleb was downplaying it? Although Beau hasn’t seemed that worried about it, just anxious to find more information about how to take down Ludinus. It probably wasn’t worth wasting a teleport spell to get home faster.

In eight minutes flat, Essek was rushing up the little path in front of the cottage he and Caleb called home. He was breathing hard, having pushed himself to go faster than his usual. When he pushed open the front door he found Caleb pacing in front of the couch.

Caleb’s crystal blue eyes jumped up to meet his upon his entrance and Essek quickly closed the door before closing the distance between them. Caleb’s large, warm hands grasped his own and he intoned, “Schatz, I need you to speak with Astrid.”

#might i write more of this? possibly #but i had to get this out of my head first #love yasha and essek swapping recipes and gardening tips #critical role #cr spoilers #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #yasha nydoorin #beauregard lionett #beauyasha #shadowgast

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deanbrainrotwritings · 7 months

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jacklesverse bingo 2023 | MASTERLIST

most of these will be 18+ stories that include sexual or dark themes, individual warnings will be added for each one

hello y’all this is my first bingo and I’m so excited to start and finish my @jacklesversebingo card.

— eris

guidebook for sinners turned saints [smut, 8.8k]

description— dean uses the sexiest seduction methods to get laid when he keeps getting cockblocked by his gaming girlfriend.

the love letter collection : part II [fluff, 2.6k]

description — being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. this is the soft version.

seven [smut, 5.2k]

description — dean would rather be doing something else with his time rather than doing research, he’d rather be doing her.

the politics of knife fighting [flangst, 4.5k]

description — tom tried to live a normal life after getting away from his hometown, but he should’ve known his little slice of heaven would go bad eventually.

closer than this [smut, 2.2k]

description — something quick. something hot. in between busy tasks. when everyone else is distracted.

hero of the half-truth [smut, 3.7k]

description — you can’t decide whether it’s a punishment or not when you go to see soldier boy knowing that he’s trying to keep you safe from everything in his life

demonology and heartache [smut, 4.9k]

description — dean is a devout catholic and has never known a life outside the church, all his resolve is broken by the temptation of a hellish seductress.

same book but never the same page [fluff, 5.6k]

description — part III of the love letter collection. still dreamwalking. chasing after someone who can destroy worlds. and dean is jealous of his variants. what could go wrong?

two hearted [smut, 4.8k]

description — playing pretend, doing risky things, improv, Valentine’s Day is more than “unattached drifter Christmas” now.

sweet kansas honey [smut, 1.5k]

description — invited by her friend to a bee farm, but Dean wasn’t invited to their cute day out. Dean gets pouty… and, ya know, horny.

mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix [, ]

description — aka part IV of the love letter collection. still attempting to catch Lush. this time a variant of jealous of Dean. what could go wrong?

colder than my heart, if you can imagine [smut, ]

the love letter collection : part I [smut, 11k]

description — being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. this is the sad version.

god, if you are above [smut, 1.8k]

description — technically part two of demonology and heartache (which I haven’t posted, yet). an au in which dean is a priest and the reader is a demon with an obsession to corrupt him.

I believe in a thing called love [smut, 4.2k]

description — dean thinks you’re playing a game but he slowly realises you’re not.

when broken is easily fixed [fluff, 2.7k]

description — priestly broke up with tish (yes!) uh, i mean… you watch him be pathetic and sad with his big wet green eyes and decide to do something about it.

your sword versus my dagger [ , ]

description — a quick look over at the relationship between the reader and soldier boy in the jump on into the fire/all I wanna do universe. the past, the future, what was, what could be.

taglist

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

beau arlen masterlist

soldier boy masterlist

jensen ackles masterlist

jake gray masterlist

boaz priestly masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#jacklesversebingo23 #d #bingo card #bingo card masterlist #jacklesversebingo23 masterlist #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jason teague x reader #boaz priestly x reader #tom hanniger x reader #soldier boy x reader #jack durphy x reader #beau arlen x reader

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f1xmalereader · 1 year

Note

could i request a charles or mick insta au with a singer reader? maybe use conan gray (or johnny orlando) as the fc? like show one of the singer on stage? i could do you a picture of what i’m referring to

Charles Leclerc x Male Reader Insta AU [Singer Edition]

Y/N Posted

Thank you New York for such a special night. Will be one to remember for sure.

Charles Leclerc: Love listening to you mon beau

Y/NFan: I was front row. Can't wait for your next concert

Charles Leclerc Posted

Date night with the hottest man I know

Y/N: Who's that guy then

Lando Norris: Not you mate

F1Gossip: I'm jealous of Leclerc

Y/N Posted

Forcing him to listen to my music while he drives us around

Charles Leclerc: Entertaining as always 😉

16Fan: So Y/N is a passenger prince

Y/N: Absolutely

F1 Gossip Posted

A leaked photo of Charles Leclerc and Y/N L/N has been going around.

Y/N: Has to be my favourite photo of us

LeclercFan: Omg they've seen it

#f1 imagine #f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fic #male reader #x male reader #f1 #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader

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thatliminal-wanderer · 2 months

Text

Mutt ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names

Affen, Affie, Aidi, Airendale, Akita, Aksaray, Alano, Armant, Artois, Barbet, Basenji, Beau, Bella, Biewer, Brad, Brenard, Brittany, Cain, Cairn, Caleb, Canaan, Cane, Canis, Carol, Charles, Charlie, Clifford, Collie, Conall, Conan, Cooper, Dale, Darwin, Daxie, Dire, Dylan, Emory, Eros, Eskie, Finn, Ford, Fox, Ghan, Glen, Gold, Gordon, Gray/Grey, Griffon, Hamilton, Havana, Hound, Jack, Kai, Kalev, Kelpie, Ken, Kerry, Kit, Leo, Leon, Llewelyn, Lowell, Lucy, Mal, Malinois, Marley, Max, Mia, Oscar, Paxton, Picard, Pila, Pup, Red/Redd, Rhys, Rosie, Ruppell, Russell, Sadie, Scottie, Shepherd, Sophie, Spitz, Stafford, Stella, Terry, Tosa, Venerie, Walker, Wolf

Pronouns

arf/arfs, bark/barks, bork/borks, cani/canis, canine/canines, claw/claws, dog/dogs, floof/floofs, fluff/fluffs, fur/furs, grr/grrs, houn/hound/hounds, howl/howls, loyal/loyals, mutt/mutts, paw/paws, pawprint/pawprits, play/plays, pup/pups, puppy/puppys, tail/tails, wag/wags, woof/woofs, yip/yips, 🎾/🎾s, 🐕/🐕s, 🐕‍🦺/🐕‍🦺s, 🐩/🐩s, 🐶/🐶s, 🐾/🐾s, 📢/📢s, 📣/📣s, 🔆/🔆s, 🔊/🔊s, 🦮/🦮s, 🦴/🦴s

Titles

A Dog of Mixed Origin, The Dog of Unknown Breed, The Excited Pup, The Mixed Breed, The Mutt Not Like Any Other, The One Who Woofs, [prn] Who’s Origin is Unknown

Genders

Aushepbocolliedoggic, Boydogthing, Boymutt/Girlmutt, Carineeic, Dogfinalboy, Dogfinalgirl, Dogpufflecharic, Dogstimmic, Goldshepardkinic, Lycantrans, Muttdollic, Muttfreak, Muttstardewic, Phantompuptailic, Thingmutt, Traumamutt, Yellowdogplushic

Other mogai

Aldercanidae, Aldercaninoir, Alderdog, Canitoaldernic, Dog Omninoun, Dogperspesque, Dogvesi, Straydogstelic

#id pack #npt suggestions #name suggestions #name list #name ideas #npt #title ideas #title suggestions #pronoun suggestions #pronoun list #gender list #gender suggestions #mogai list #mogai suggestions #mogai blog #mogai #dogs #mutt

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monstrousdesirestudy · 29 days

Text

“Three tickets to Challengers please!”

• • •

What’s the context, baby?👇

Okay I know that this meme is kinda obscure and niche BUT the above photos are of Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray), Bram Stoker (Dracula), and Florence Balcombe. The three of them had a complicated and strange relationship with Florence first being Oscar Wilde’s beau until Stoker (a friend of Wildes) snatched her away from Wilde and married her all without Wilde or their friends knowing.

Wilde and Stoker had a homoerotic rivalry for much of their relationship in which they participated in triangulated homosocial relationships, vying for the attention of not one but TWO different people: Florence Balcombe and Sir Henry Irving (an idol of Wilde’s).

It is theorized that Stoker and Wilde’s relationship, as well as Wilde’s public trial after he was accused of sodomy, profoundly affected Stoker and his writing of Dracula. In fact, he wrote Dracula 1 month after Wilde was convicted.

Read more about the gay legacy of Dracula 👈

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utilitycaster · 19 days

Note

I love your thoughts on Astrid and I think a lot about whether her initial ambition to become powerful for the sake of power turned into the ambition for power so no one else has power over her. I truly do not think she begrudges Wulf his faith any more than she begrudges Caleb his new life though I would not be surprised if both are sources of some pain for her. (in a way the three of them remind me of trees. Caleb lost a part of himself but that allowed new sprouts to come forth. Wulf found faith that allowed the damage to be lessened by giving support to the damaged part of the tree. And Astrid is the one with neither who grows around the damage in the only direction she ever knew though it costs her much more in the long term than the other solutions)

Hi anon,

So I think I say this whenever I get similar asks - completely valid to have your own headcanons, but (and this is foreshadowing for the rest of this ask) I am not much of a people pleaser and I will openly disagree, as I'm about to, and this might be a conversation better had in DMs or replies or something because doing so via anon gets to be a lot of back and forth.

I really respect people who relate to Astrid as a survivor of abuse who finds some measure of peace and who simply acknowledges she, Eadwulf, and Caleb all found separate ways to move forward. I completely understand that can be very meaningful and would never take that interpretation from them.

With that said, I happen to personally prefer a view of Astrid who is capable of that bitterness. I like the possibility that she is not just ambitious (which, that on its own is often considered sufficient to lambast female characters; see the Suvi Kedberiket discourses surrounding Worlds Beyond Number) but also very angry, and at times bitter, and at times resentful.

I think a lot of fans struggle with the gray area between unambigously heroic women and unambiguously villainous ones, both because in that gray area is a complexity women in fiction are frequently denied, and also because it requires a look at specific emotions women aren't supposed to have. Women can be sad; they can be traumatized; and they've been granted such qualities as "determined" or "can use a sword" or "leaders" but I think people really still struggle with anger, and especially anger that is not specifically directed towards abusers (like Beau or Yasha or Vex) nor righteous (like Keyleth) but petty or even simply irrational.

I like Astrid as a woman who might hold a grudge she knows intellectually is unfair but who feels it anyway. I think about how she wanted to kill Trent in the moment, and that Fjord (someone whose story is very much about both forgiveness and the legitimacy of grudges and a desire for power) validates her for it even though it's true that Caleb's method of exposing Trent's crimes is probably more effective. I like her as someone who is incredibly intelligent and who probably has an idea of what the "good" thing to do is and still feels a lot of ugly feelings and possibly always will, even though she has found a much healthier way forward. I don't know quite how this interrogation will go, but it is interesting that she's in hiding in Zadash and has apparently not openly broken with the Assembly.

It's funny, because this is on some level what many people want for much of Bells Hells - they want them to be angry at the gods for neglecting them. It's just...they also want that anger to be righteous. And sometimes anger isn't. Anger is often petty and detrimental and yet still very real. What appeals to me about Astrid is that she is very much a complicated person who does straddle a line between ally and antagonist and is permitted a depth and messiness and moral ambiguity that many fans deliberately try to excise from women (and, for that matter, characters of color/in-world racialized characters and many queer characters). So I do like an Astrid who clearly cares for Caleb and for Eadwulf and does not treat them poorly, but does perhaps nurse some privately-held grudges.

#answered #Anonymous #cr spoilers #cr tag #i don't quite want to main tag this. but i kind of do #i haven't but i may rethink if it takes off

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starliights-shining · 1 year

Note

hi my beloved, how do you feel about writing Bay!Hot Rod pining LIKE CRAZY over some random groundskeeper at Sir Burton’s manor?? mansion? estate? whateva it is

Hello Love, I think this is amazing. You know I LOVE HOT ROD. He always got the brain going burrrrrr burrrrrrr. Anyways, I hope this is what youre looking for, Enjoy :)

Pairings: Bayverse!Hot Rod x GN!Human!Reader

Warnings: google translated french, french

Ma chérie / Mon chéri - My dear or My darling

Mon beau - My beautiful

Ma moitié - My other half

The sickening summer heat of Europe, your gardening hat placed on your head and the fall straps dangled on either of your head. The hand trowel layed on the ground next to you as your hands scooped the soil around the bottom of the plant. This was the 4 fourth flower you were planeting in this location, each time the planet would either disappear, get stepped on, or die and sometimes you would watch it happen. The large man was not watching where he was walking and stepping on the delicate flower. It was irritating, so irritating after this flower you weren’t going to plant another one here. If it went missing or died, you’ll dig it up and cover the hole.

And that's exactly what you did, the hole now covered, so if that large man was to step on it there would be no flower to kill. You stood up, grabbed your tools and went to the back of the manor. Your “To Do” list seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, as the only things left were the large hedges and a few more things done to the back yard, but this time, you’ll have company.

“How are you doing today!”

The french accent was waived thickly into the question, something you couldn’t get enough of. You tilted your head back, trying to see the bot's face past the brim of your sun hat.

“I'm gardening, can’t ask for anything else.”

A smile on your face as you as your hands go to rest on your hips, your gardening gloves causing your hands to sweat.

“The garden looks magnificent, do keep up the good work Ma chérie / Mon chéri.”

You laughed, looking down at the ground and kicking dirt around. Your french was spotty, only knowing the basics and the occasional pet names used between lovers. Although you have learned a lot more French with Hot Rod being around more often, that's bound to happen when your closest friend is a French space robot.

“Thank you Hot Rod.”

You bent down and snipped off one of the roses you were tending to, one being snipped won’t hurt anything, and handed it to him. His large digits gently take it from your hand.

“For you, Mon beau.”

You attempted to speak a little french back, but you already know you butchered it. He let out a light chuckle, as he pretended to smell the rose.

“Merci,”

He practically whispered it, optics staring into your small frame peaking up at him. You were lost, eyes tracing over every line of metal and dip in his face plating. The contrast between the bright orange plating, deep gray metals and the sometimes carbon fiber panels, and those bright cerulean rings. They were breathtaking, hell he was breathtaking, a whole other kind species, yet he stood here flirting with you, the silly gardener. Your thoughts and staring was broken when you heard someone yelling. Sir Edmund Burton, his little to no white hair, fancy suit and cane as he waved a hand while calling for Hot Rod.

“Ma moitié, I must get going! Please keep up your great work and do take care of yourself.”

He ran off, yelling back at Sir Burton about something. You simply smiled, watching as his large frame got smaller or disappeared. What a different kind of bot, but you wouldn’t change anything about him.

#transformers #transformers movies #hot rod #hot rod x reader #tf hot rod x reader #transformers x reader #tf x reader #tf bayverse #bayverse hot rod #bayverse #bayverse x reader #transformers bayverse #bayverse hot rod x reader

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zablife · 2 years

Text

One Night Stand in Fightertown

Summary: You've just arrived in Fightertown and meet a mysterious, older man who intrigues you. Drunk and horny, you agree to spend the night, but what happens in the morning?

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Cyclone so please be kind! Please note GIF was all I could find for smut, so please do not focus on the woman's attributes (Or the fact that she's wearing a fucking bra?!?! Wtf is that about? How's he supposed to suck your tits?)

Song they're listening to on the jukebox is Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay."

Warnings: 🔞, smutty, smut, smut, very little plot, unprotected sex, impact play, daddy kink

“You sure I can’t take you to dinner, honey? It’s your first night in town and you don’t know a soul,” your father said in a concerned voice.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you said with a laugh at his overprotectiveness. “I just need a night to myself,” you explained.

“Ok, I know when I’m not wanted,” he guilt-tripped you.

“Are you going to be this clingy now that I live in the same city?” you teased. “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast,” you reminded him before ending the call and shoving your cell into your back pocket. Heading back inside the bar your roommate recommended, you ordered another drink and meandered over to the worn out juke box.

You bit your lip and tilted your head as you read the selections, trying to decide which tune to play. You finally chose a familiar song and punched the yellowed buttons with your index finger slowly, your buzz catching up to you faster than you realized as you stopped yourself from pushing the six instead of the eight. As your song began to play, you swayed your hips to the music, feeling pleasantly warm and happy in your own little bubble.

Tonight was about relaxation and a fresh start. You needed to have some fun and clear your head before work started. You tried not to think about work now though as you stood by the open window, breathing in the sea air. You’d finally made it to California and you were going to enjoy yourself.

“Ottis Redding, nice choice,” you heard a deep voice say behind you. You spun around to see a dark, handsome man standing behind you and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of him. He had muscular arms, a broad chest and trim waist, accentuated by the tight t-shirt and jeans he wore. It was casual, but stylish. The ruggedness of his jawline was punctuated by the slightest hint of stubble and you noted how there was tinge of gray there. You raised an eyebrow at him. An older man, you thought. This could be interesting. Not like the boys who usually tried and failed to capture your attention.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You didn’t want to appear overly eager, but his gaze was already making heat rise to your cheeks.

“I’m impressed that you know it,” he said continuing to compliment you. He stepped closer, placing his beer on the table beside you.

“Well, he’s one of my dad’s favorites so I sort of had to form an appreciation early on,” you rambled.

“Ooh, hitting me with that already. How old do you think I am, sweetheart?” he said with a playful wince.

You held your hands up in mock protest, “No, no. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. You were wondering how I knew the song,” you said trying to defend yourself.

He smirked at you and you saw a glint in his eye as he extended a hand to you, “No offense taken. My name’s Beau. What’s yours?”

“Y/n,” you said shaking his hand and feeling your hand slip into his large, rough grasp. He held you there for a moment, locking eyes with you and you swore his breath hitched.

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he said. “Now that we’ve established your taste in music and my age, let’s move on to something more important. You want to dance with me?” You nodded, placing your drink next to his on the table and held your breath as you felt him slide his arm around your waist.

The rest of the night was a blur of drinks, easy conversation and several rounds of pool. You were delighted to learn that your skills were far superior to his and threw your head back with laughter as he cursed at the accuracy of your bank shots. Soon it was last call and Beau’s hand was on the small of your back. You didn’t hesitate as he lead you out of the bar for a walk along the beach.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been given a tour of the city yet,” he said. “I was sure a hundred servicemen would have offered by now,” he said glancing at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Nope,” you shrugged. “But I just got in today.”

“Ah, that’s it’s then,” he said with a shake of his head.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve been around military types my whole life. I’m not the type of girl who swoons over a uniform,” you said matter-of-factly, staring out over the ocean.

“Really? Well, what does make you swoon then?” he asked, stopping suddenly.

You turned to look at him slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder seductively. “Let’s just say I like men, not boys.” Leaning into him for a deep kiss you whispered against his lips, “Besides, the only place in town I’d like to see right now is the inside of your bedroom.” You felt him smirk as he ran a hand down to grab your ass.

“You giving the orders now?” he asked in a low voice.

“We can negotiate. I have a feeling you know what you’re doing,” you said biting your lip.

——————————————————————

You arrived at Beau’s house in record time and he escorted you inside with the urgency of a man who wanted you badly. He pushed you against the wall and removed your shirt immediately. You allowed him to pin you, wanting to feel his weight against you at last. It was as satisfying as you had imagined. He wasn’t timid, wedging a knee between your legs and pressing it into your throbbing cunt in one swift motion that left you breathless. He rocked into you as his mouth worked yours open in a desperate kiss, pushing your hands from your body. He grabbed your wrists suddenly and pinned them over your head as his tongue delved deeper into your mouth, exploring and tasting you as low growls escaped his throat. You moaned in pleasure at the thought of him ravaging you.

When he broke away, you raked your nails through his thick hair and pushed his head toward your neck. He began pressing kisses to your jugular vein and then your collar bone, not wanting to miss an inch of your delicate skin. “I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe playfully as one hand massaged your breast. Unhooking your bra for better access, he leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth and you nearly screamed at the contact.

“Fuck, I want you so bad,” you cried out wantonly. You felt him smirk against your chest and he scooped you up in to his arms, carrying you toward his bedroom. When you arrived at the meticulously appointed room, he threw you onto the bed and you squealed as you bounced off the mattress. Beau laughed as he lifted his t-shirt and threw it over his head. You gasped viewing his perfectly defined chest and ab muscles in the dim light. He looked as though he had been carved from stone and you pushed up on your knees, crawling toward him and reaching out a hand to trace your fingers over his cut lines. He grabbed your hand and began to suck on your index and middle fingers while gazing at you intently. Your breath caught in your chest as you watched his eyes darken, feeling your clit pulse against your jeans.

Holding you by your wrist he instructed, “Lay back and show me what you like.” Then he quickly removed his pants and then your jeans. Now nothing stood in your way save for the tiny, lace thong you wore. You traced the delicate fabric with your wet fingers, then stretched it to the side to pump your fingers in lazily. You shivered suddenly and he asked, “Are you cold?” You bit your lip and nodded. Moving closer to you, he offered, “Can I warm you up?” You removed your fingers and watched as his large hand came to rest over your cunt. Soon you felt the warmth from his palm radiate over you as you struggled to breathe normally.

You swallowed harshly, wanting him to finger you, suck you…anything but this torture of waiting. Finally, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to your clothed pussy. It was so delicate and sweet you barely registered anything had happened. Was he joking? you thought. You reached out and grabbed hold of his head, attempting to pull him back to where you needed him most.

His reaction was harsh, jerking your underwear down to deliver a stinging slap to your pussy as you hissed in surprise and pain. He chuckled as he looked up at you, “Don’t be impatient, baby. Promise I’m gonna take good care of your sweet little pussy.” Then he leaned down to soothe you with a full kiss to your lower lips that felt so good you dropped your head back onto the bedding with a whimper.

Diving in to take your clit into his waiting lips, he sucked hard, making you see stars. He treated you exactly the way he promised and as you bucked your hips into his face, chasing your high, you wished his attention to your sensitive bud would never end. You began chanting his name like a prayer as he lapped and sucked, adding his fingers to your pulsing cunt. The sounds of his digits entering your wetness, made the most obscene squelching noises, but you didn’t care as you raised your hips to him, begging for more. His fingers hooked inside of you in just the right spot and you began panting with your impending orgasm. “That’s it, let go for me,” Beau urged. “Cum on my fingers, honey,” he said as he stroked your walls expertly and that was all it took to make you come undone, crying out loudly and shaking beneath him.

When you finally came back down to earth, you realized Beau was still holding you against the mattress with one arm across your hips. You hadn’t realized the force of your orgasm and rolled your head from side to side to shake the fog from your brain. What had he done to you? He rose from the edge of the bed and hovered over you to kiss you full. You tasted yourself on his tongue and desire set into you once again. You reached down to grasp him through his boxer shorts and felt how hard he was for you.

Pushing up onto your elbows you tugged at his shorts eagerly as though unwrapping a present. As you freed his cock, you gasped at his size and licked your lips in anticipation. Running a hand behind your head he asked, “Won’t be a problem will it?” You shook your head and took him in hand, trying to close your fist around his thick length. He extended a hand to steady himself against the wall as you sat up to take him into your waiting mouth. You lapped at the precum that was leaking from his tip savoring the taste of him as you licked ever so slowly. Finally he took your chin in his hand reprimanding you, “Don’t tease me.” The sharpness of his words sent heat straight through to your core and you began taking him into your mouth inch by inch. He stroked your cheek with his thumb as he let out a contented sigh, but the moment of tenderness ended when he began thrusting. You relaxed your throat to take him as deeply as possible, but still gagged harshly on a particularly deep stroke, saliva dripping down your chin. Beau withdrew to give you a rest and you took the opportunity to raise up and plant your hands on his chest, pushing him to the mattress firmly.

You swung a leg over his torso, mounting him before he could protest and sunk down onto his cock in one quick movement, closing your eyes as you relished the exquisite feeling of being stretched to the hilt. You lifted your hips and sank back down again just to experience it again. You released a shaky breath and felt Beau’s hand come up to brush the hair from your face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said breathlessly. His hands rose to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples as you rode him.

He couldn’t keep his hands from your hips for long though. He kneaded the flesh, sinking his nails into you and you knew you’d have bruises by morning. The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls was too good for you to mind. You loved the mixture of pain and pleasure melding as you took what you needed from him. You could tell he was enjoying himself as well, the way he looked up at you with an awe-filled gaze.

Your second orgasm was building quickly and your legs were tiring. Beau noticed you slow down and took control of your movements, clamping his large hands at your hips and dragging you over him again and again. Just as you were about to scream out with your release, he lifted you off him and you were left panting and confused. “Get on your knees,” he commanded and you obeyed without question.

You stuck your ass up for him and he brought a hand down over your cheek, watching it jiggle. Intoxicated by the sight, he repeated the action again on the opposite side before rubbing a hand over your stinging flesh. “Please, please fuck me, Daddy” you whined in desperate need of relief, pushing back into him. And then you stilled, suddenly wondering what he might think of the nickname.

Using a knee to spread your legs further apart, he chuckled, then replied, “What did I tell you about patience, little one?”

Relieved and excited that he enjoyed your little game, you answered breathlessly, “I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly as he teased the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushed the thick head into you with a low groan as he savored the feeling of your warmth. When he resumed thrusting, the pace was punishing, so much so that your legs began to tremble. Finally, they gave out entirely and you collapsed flat on your stomach, but Beau didn’t stop. He kept pounding into you, one hand on your hip and one hand intertwined with yours on the mattress. “Taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praised.

Without warning you came around him and the feeling of your tight, velvety walls milking him was all it took to trigger his own release. He spilled inside you and you moaned at the feeling of his seed filling you to the brim. "Fuck," he groaned, hot breath hitting the back of your neck as the waves of pleasure engulfed you both. He kept his weight off you, resting on one arm, but stayed inside you a moment longer as he placed kisses along your shoulder. “You were incredible,” he murmured against your skin.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you said with a giggle.

“Let me help you clean up,” he said, uncoupling from you to stand and disappeared into the en suite bathroom. When he returned he gently wiped between your thighs with a warm washcloth and kissed you softly as he cupped your cheek. “Do you want to stay the night? I could use a good night’s rest with a beautiful woman,” he asked with a charming smile. You nodded and snuggled into his side, resting your head on his chest and carded a hand over his chest hair until you fell into a deep, uninterrupted slumber.

————————————————————

You woke before dawn, an old habit having been raised in a military household. Dressing as quietly as possible, you glanced over your shoulder at Beau as you left still in disbelief of the incredible evening you’d had. You jotted down a note and your number on a pad in the kitchen before leaving for your apartment. You knew you’d have to rush in order to be on base in time for your first day. Shit, I promised to meet dad for breakfast, you thought. And you moved even faster to be ready on time.

Miraculously, you made it and had an uneventful meal. After you finished eating, your dad gave you a tour and introduced you to a few people to make you feel welcome. As you were leaving to go to work, he joked with you that your normally pristine bun was a little out of place this morning. “Did my little girl have a wild night or something?” he teased, patting you on the shoulder. You nearly spit out your coffee before realizing he was joking. As Beau rounded the corner looking handsome in his uniform you were hit with a wave of shock and actually did spill your coffee.

As you stooped to clean the spill with a napkin, your father greeted him. “Good morning admiral!”

Fuck, they know each other! Of course, they know each other! you thought, wanting to sink into the floor.

“Good morning!” Beau called out in a clear voice. Knowing you couldn’t avoid him forever if you worked on base together, you collected yourself and stood as straight as possible, giving him a salute.

He saluted in return and said, “At ease, lieutenant…” then paused as he read your nameplate. “Bates?” he said looking from you to your father. “Any relation?” he asked nervously.

“Beau, this is my daughter, y/n,” your father said proudly.

“Nice to meet you,” you said extending your hand a bit too quickly. You searched his eyes to see if he would play along and he did, allowing you to release the breath you’d been holding.

“I have to return to my desk now. Do you think you can find your way, honey?” your father asked.

“I think so. Thanks for breakfast, Daddy,” you said with a nod and he turned to leave you and Beau standing in the hallway looking at each other.

Beau took a step closer to you once your father had left asking, “Warlock is your father?”

“You’re Vice Admiral Simpson?” you countered in a panicked whisper. “This is going to be awkward,” you noted.

“Why would it be awkward?” Beau asked, pretending not to understand. He hooked his fingers into your belt loops and pulled you toward him slowly until you were flush with his body and tilted your chin up toward his smug face. “Because you call me daddy too?”

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#Top Gun Maverick fanfic #Top Gun Maverick imagine #Beau Simpson x reader #Beau Simpson x y/n #Beau Simpson x you #Beau Cyclone Simpson #Beau Simpson fanfic #Beau Simpson imagine

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jacklesversebingo · 4 months

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We’re almost at the midway point for Round One of the Bingo!

I’m very grateful to all the participants and followers supporting this event. Because I’ve been having so much fun with this, I would like to open this round for late sign-ups.

The sign-up form will be open from February 1 through February 14, 2024. New participants will receive a 3 x 3 card. Sample Cards

Please read the Guidelines/Rules and FAQs before signing up.

The bingo is open to all creatives—artists and authors, gif, video, and aesthetic makers.

What characters can I create for?

Jason Teague (Smallville)

Jake Gray (Devour)

Priestly (Ten Inch Hero)

Tom Hanniger (My Bloody Valentine 3D)

Dean Winchester (SPN/The Winchesters)

Jack Durfy (Buddy Games)

Soldier Boy/Ben (The Boys)

Beau Arlen (Big Sky)

Jensen RPF is also welcome.

Followers also have an option to participate—no sign-up necessary. Spread joy and use the All About Ackles bingo card to help show your love for all the wonderful creations posted on the @jacklesversebingo blog.

#jacklesversebingo23 #creatives challenge #writing challenge #late sign-ups #jensen ackles #dean winchester #beau arlen #soldier boy #and more!

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bullet-prooflove · 3 months

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Could you write a crossover story featuring Beau/Ally and Harm/Savanna?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @keyweegirlie @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc @@sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @mandy426 @@al-lethan @thiashazzywriting @justameresimp @agentorange9595 @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @imaginecrushes @flrboyd @areamir @b-bradshaw @adaydreamaway08 @crimeshowjunkie @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman @tortilla-maria1 @lemmons1998 @dr-alan-grantler @penguin876 @deliriousfangirl61 @goosterroose @kishie8 @skyesthebomb @marshmallowflufffox @whateversomethingbruh @4everademigod @notanotherpotter @yousigned-upforthis @silversprings-mp3

Ladies and gents we got ourselves a crossover! Refs to both Ally's career in JAG and Beau being a flyboy.

It’s in a park by The Naval Yard that Mac first sees Harm again. It’s been nine years since she last laid eyes on him and he still looks as handsome as the day he packed his bag and walked out the door. He’s standing alongside the coffee kiosk, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark overcoat as he surveys the menu board fixed the outer wall.

She doesn’t expect to see him back in Washington DC, the last she heard he was seeing a girl down in New Orleans, spending all his shore leave celebrating Jazzfest and Madri Grais. That man, she’d thought at the time, he’ll never grow up.

She hasn’t had a single successful relationship since she left Harmon Rabb and she blames him for that. She blames him for a lot of things. The two of them had made a pact when they’d flipped that coin, he was supposed to stay out of the service, live life as a civilian in San Diego. They’d get married, have a couple of kids.

It had worked for a while but then he’d run into Ally again and it had all started to fall apart. The Admiral's Wife, Mac calls her, because she’d married Beau Simpson a decade ago, the rear admiral in charge of the Top Gun program.

Harm had been her mentor when she was coming up through JAG. He’s walked her down the aisle when she had married Beau at sunset in Cape Rey. Mac remembers she’d been a ferocious little thing, tenacious and fierce in the face of adversity. She packed a hell of a punch in the court room. Mac should know, she’d run up against her a couple of times since taking the promotion in San Diego.

“She’s as good as you.” Mac had told Harm over dinner one night. “And just as infuriating.”

“No.” Harm had responded, sipping from his beer bottle. “She’s better.”

It was Ally that had urged Harm to rejoin the Navy, her and Beau. Mac couldn’t see how unhappy he was at the time, she hadn’t understood it, not really. She remembers the day he’d come home from the airfield, eyes bright with exhilaration. He’d been out flying again with Beau, the two of them were like boys with toys once they got up in the sky. Testing boundaries, playing wargames, showing off. He always ended up at their home afterwards, talking cases over dinner with Ally or swapping war stories with Beau. He would come home with a smile on his face, smelling of cigar smoke, tasting of whiskey.

“I’m re-enlisting.” He’s told her that night after he stepped out of the shower. “It’s a different commission from JAG, it won’t mess up our agreement.”

He was wrong, it had been the end of everything. The posting that Beau had offered him meant he was away on aircraft carriers for six months out of the year, flying jets and sailing ships, the two things he loved most in the world.

Mac had hated him for that, she hated Beau and Ally for giving him that option because now she was the one left behind. The lonely one, the sad one.

It had lasted one deployment.

By the time the next one came up, it was over.

It was a way of punishing him at the time, she’d expected him to resign his commission, come back with his tail between his legs, but he hadn’t. He’d packed a bag instead and gone to stay with Ally and Beau before shipping out to the USS Allegiance, she hadn’t seen him since. She’d heard stories over the years from mutual friends, places he’d been, women he was seeing. He’d become the Harm she used to know, the one without ties or commitments.

She had always believed they would find their way back to each other. Nine years and thousands of miles later, it’s finally happening on a rainy day in Washington DC.

She doesn’t realise how wrong she is, not until she sees you. You’re hurrying towards him, gesturing with your hands, your voice full of apology. He smiles then, and it’s that smile that completely obliterates her. She’s never seen him smile like that, not in all the years she’s known him.

You’re nothing special, not really. She’d call you pretty as opposed to beautiful, a step down from the women he usually covets. You aren’t military, she can tell from your walk, but you carry, she can see it in the way your coat drapes. Law enforcement then, she assumes. Most likely NCIS.

Strong women, she recalls. That’s what Harm’s attracted to, strong capable women.

It’s when he kisses you, she knows that it’s real. When he cradles your face between his large hands, there’s such tenderness in his expression. He looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world and her heart just breaks. He’s loved before, she realises in that moment but he’s never been in love, not until you.

Her eyes start to sting because for all these years she’s clung to this hope, this stupid ridiculous dream that the two of them were meant for each other. She’d imagined that they’d bump into one another, their eyes would lock and it would be like it was back then. Nights filled with fire and passion, their days adventure and laughter.

That life, it isn’t a reality anymore.

It’s clear that Harm’s moved on and it’s time that Mac does too.

Love Harm? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

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luolands · 1 year

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Essek's Powers

EGtW: Essek is a prodigy who displays an unprecedented talent for the manipulation of dunamis energy

c2e57: You follow Essek and as you do, you feel like your pace is quickened. People pass by, other guards, but they blur past like you're unable to necessarily focus. Something is subtly influencing you to make it difficult to really trace the path you take to where you're going. ... Fjord: Do you not feel the same effects? Essek: No. Time is one of my specialties.

Essek, c2e57: Don't deal much in blacksmithing, not my specialty. [His hand rises out of the curtains that is his cloak and his hand passes. These trails of somewhat translucent, gray energy drift off his fingertips for a second and float there before dissipating.]

Essek, c2e57: While we do have periods of worship in which we give ourselves to the sunlight as part of our means of showing our faith, it does impede our day-to-day business. So as part of our craft, we've found a way to keep it at bay, for as long as we'd like.

EGtW: Twelve hours of daylight each day can become painful and physically detrimental to those beings adapted to subterranean life. To mitigate this problem, powerful dunamancers have woven arcane shields to temporarily block out the sun above Rosohna.

c2e61: The rain seems to fall, but you never see it scatter across the Shadowhand. It seems to drift around and he stays dry amongst the storm.

c2e61: Following below, it's hard to see because the cloak almost meets the ground, but looking below: his feet aren't touching the ground. He's just drifting.

Essek, c2e71: It seems you have made your preparations and are ready to leave? Beau: Yes, you may enter and cross into the threshold. Essek: Thank you. [He glides in. You watch the ball bearings actually separating out around his form. Like there is some invisible force that is pushing them outward, and just generating this strange force that keeps them at bay.]

Jester, c2e74: [I pull out a cupcake] It's fresh, I swear! Essek: [Extends his hand and the cupcake lifts out of your hand and drifts over. He sniffs it.] Thank you. [It vanishes beneath the cloak.]

c2e77: At which point, you watch as she begins to lift up off the ground from the chains and you see Essek, his hand out of his cloak, lifting her off the ground. ... You watch as her entire central torso crushes inward, the chains go taut and you hear the metal bend as some of the chains begin to pull and break in places before she is dropped to the ground limply.

c2e91: And he just drifts off, the gate opens on its own (creak, slam) and he heads up to the interior.

c2e91: Essek approaches, waves a hand, and the gate (creaks) opens and lets you guys in.

Essek, c2e91: Allow me to take care of this for you. [He waves his hand for a second and you watch as the chairs, the furniture (scraping) scoots from the edges into the center, forming a little seating area, table scoots in.]

Essek, c2e91: [He goes ahead and lifts a hand towards the hunk of clay] If I could have some help? [You lift it and it's half the weight it was before you grabbed it.]

EGtW, 2nd Lv. Graviturgy Wizard: Adjust Density. As an action, you can magically alter the weight of one object or creature you can see within 30 feet of you. The target's weight is halved or doubled for up to 1 minute or until your concentration ends.

c2e97: He moves his hand this way and one of the crates (scraping) scoots and he sits on it. Jester: Still cool, still fucking cool.

Essek, c2e97: My entire life, I've been propped up to be perhaps worthy of being one to break those boundaries.

Essek, c2e124: [And he rises and begins to head towards the door. The door opens on its own.]

Essek, c2e131: You are led to the familiar exterior of Essek's chambers. And, as you approach, the door (whooshing) opens on its own. ... As you all enter, the door closes behind you as he curls his hand towards him. And, with his other hand, he drifts out, a chair scooches forward and he drifts down into the chair, one leg crossed over the other.

Caleb, c2e131: Come on in. Jester: Wait, we're naked! Essek: [The doorway opens, stops. And slowly opens. (he sighs) The door opens the rest of its way on its own. ]

Essek, c2e132: Hold on to that, we have our means of drifting carefully. Or we could try to climb- well, you could try to climb. I'll be fine. Veth: Oh, yeah, you can drift. Essek: I can.

c2e132: Partway in your descent, you have this shadow drift by as Essek just drifts over the edge and just glides down past you, like an elevator, and just looks over at you each as he slowly descends towards the bottom.

c2e134: You see, as he starts putting his hands out in front like this, like he's soft throwing objects forward. You watch as rocks start coming out as he's just plucking them, as he pulls the gravity from them, aiding you as you guys go along.

c2e135: You see Essek puts his hand out and begins to concentrate, his eyes narrowing. As he does, you watch as the smooth, relatively untouched stone base of this glass tube device (stone cracking) begin to crack and crumble. You see it get pulled away and dragged under the ground behind, scattering. The glass breaking, and as opposed to shattering around you, being shunted off to the backside of the wall, scattering on the ground.

c2e135: As it all falls away, he turns his hand up, and as he does, it's like an invisible hand digging into clay and lifting through as it sifts past the fingers. You see the rock lift and then crumble, and then there in the center, you see this diamond-shaped gem, of faint dark purple coloration, that was now released. He lifts it and drifts it over into your hand.

c2e135: You guys all were all prepping and doing this space, as this was happening, Essek, you see him begin to cast something and then condense it into his hand. He hands you this small bead, Veth. This is like a marble. And just goes, "Follow my lead." ... A bolt of black lightning arcs out from it, across the way towards the creature. It's a level four Lightning Bolt.

EGtW, 14th Lv. Chronurgy Wizard: Arcane Abeyance. When you cast a spell using a spell slot of 4th level or lower, you can condense the spell's magic into a mote. The spell is frozen in time at the moment of casting and held within a gray bead for 1 hour.

c2e136: [He's wading through the water and he's like] Don't forget to return the favor! Sam: He can't float on the water? Liam: It's a three-inch spell. Matt: It doesn't quite work like that. It keeps him off of solid ground, but it doesn't put him over fluid surfaces. It's not a levitate type spell.

c2e138: He pulls out a piece of dark chalk and finds a section of the floor, and begins to draw different dunamantic symbols in this patterned array, making you progressively more and more uncomfortable as the designs begin to come together. Some of them are little more intricate for even your understanding, but you begin to pick up the basics of it, using this stone as a focus, not unlike how residuum is used as an amplifier device in a number of other laboratories.

c2e138: There's that brief moment where you see Essek, sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he's concentrating, and as you're focusing your spell energy towards this crystal, you see it begin to glow brighter and brighter and brighter, not unlike the way that the threshold crest was taking on that filament-like brightness, but this itself has a deep, deep purplish hue, and you see it begin to flicker, not unlike the symbol that you were seeing, which makes you extremely uncomfortable. In a moment, you feel this urge to just rush in and stop it, but as you do, Essek twitches his arms around it and then draws his fingers in two different directions, and you see this small tear in reality, a break in reality, if you will. And with that, you can see, in a brief moment, in this sliver, hundreds of realities just brushing by at an endless speed. He begins to take and fold that tear around, like if the tear in space time became a thread, and wrap it around this stone, and as soon as it begins to close on it, (sizzling, shattering) it shatters... and we're going to go to break.

Essek, c2e140: I spent my entire life studying the intent to not let things like this happen to chance.

Essek, c2e141: I have spent my life in the pursuit of the ability to control one's future, and that path has led me to making many mistakes. And my shift begin to wander the possibility of fixing one's past, and since we found this, I've thought of it often.

EGtW, 14th Lv. Chronurgy Wizard: Convergent Future. You can peer through possible futures and magically pull one of them into events around you, ensuring a particular outcome.

#essek #essek thelyss #mighty nein #the mighty nein #critical role #crit role #c2 #campaign 2 #cr campaign 2 #kryn dynasty #egtw #dunamancy #chronurgy #graviturgy #dunamis #ref #writing reference

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