#will miller x female reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laurfilijames · 28 days

Text

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Hurricane. Power outage. Oral sex (F receiving). Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: A hurricane rolls in and knocks out the power, allowing Will to make good use of the time waiting it out with you.

A/N: I've had this idea toiling around in my head for a bit, and when we recently lost power at our cottage, I decided to go for it. I have no experience of hurricanes so I apologize if this isn't accurate, though I tried to remain vague. A big thanks to @rhoorl for the Florida hurricane knowledge and to @ramadiiiisme for supporting this idea through to the very end 💗

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The sight when you reached the top of the stairs stopped you in your tracks, admiring Will standing by the large window of your living room looking out at the wrath of weather outside, his expression content and thoughtful.

You set down the pile of various candles you had collected from every room in the house, smiling despite feeling a tangle of nerves in your stomach at the potential strength of this growing hurricane.

“Should you be standing that close to the window?” you asked, causing Will to smirk and glance over his broad shoulder at you.

“She’s starting to really ramp up out there.”

You sighed in response, dreading the thought of it getting any worse, the rain already accumulating to the point that the drainage systems on the street couldn’t keep up with it.

Will remained in place, staring back out at the palm trees swaying wildly, the bend of their trunks impressive, seeming completely unbothered by the storm and almost calmed by it.

Coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and brought your hands up to his chest, feeling him take a slow breath in as he covered one of your hands with his.

“I like watching Mother Nature do her thing,” he explained, his voice soothing and even. “She’s angry, letting it all out.” He squeezed your hand as you rested your cheek on his back, already tired of watching the sheets of rain and extreme wind bully everything in their paths.

“I know what that’s like,” he finished, exhaling another slow breath that you felt fill and deflate out of his lungs.

Will turned and gathered you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his somber admission now an afterthought. “So, what did you manage to scrounge up?” he asked, his tone lighter than before.

“Oh, just every candle I’ve ever bought or been given,” you smiled, turning your head to look at the array that was spread out on the kitchen table. “It might look nice when they’re all lit up, but the combination of scents might be a bit offensive.”

Will laughed, his body moving against yours with the motion of it, and you smiled and looked up at him, his blue eyes bright in the dim grey of the storm.

“I just hope the power stays on a bit longer,” you wished out loud, knowing however many candles you made glow wouldn’t be enough to outshine the encroaching dark from the storm let alone the fact that it was creeping later into the night.

“Hmm, yeah, the air conditioner is hardly keeping up as it is,” Will explained, his hand smoothing up your back where it dragged your shirt along with it, the stickiness of your skin and clothes already beginning to feel intolerable.

The lights flickered and the sound of the power surging through the house made both of you part slightly to glance at your surroundings, the warmth from the light of the lamps that were turned on illuminating your belongings for the last time before everything went dark.

Will chuckled while you groaned, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. “Well, sweetheart, it looks like you’ve got a superpower.”

You shot him a glare as you walked over to the table, starting to distribute the candles throughout the kitchen and living room, but not lighting any yet since some light was still coming in from outside.

Will sat on the couch, grinning as he watched you, almost seeming like he was pleased and entertained by the situation.

“How long before you turn on the generator?” you asked, testing your luck even though you knew what the answer was going to be.

He shook his head as he laughed again, “Not until I need to. We might have a ways to go here and I’m not wasting gas in the first few hours of this.”

His eyebrows crept up his forehead as he spoke, his voice stern and amused all at once. “You’re going to have to be patient and trust me.”

You sighed and nodded, flicking the Zippo lighter you held on and off a couple of times before walking into the living room to join him, knowing that out of all the people to have by your side during an emergency, Captain William Miller was the best and most capable one.

He had already spent hours checking the house to make sure everything was secure, gathering supplies like gasoline and food and water, and hauled sandbags all morning with Benny and Frankie that they distributed out to the neighbours, even making a point to check in on some of the elderly ones.

“C’mere,” he purred, beckoning you over to where he sat comfortably, his long legs spread wide with one arm draped over the back of the couch.

He looked at you adoringly as you moved toward him slowly, his smile growing to pull out the creases beside his mouth that couldn’t be kept hidden in his beard, and you matched it with your own sly grin, suddenly forgetting everything that was happening around you as you became pleasantly distracted by the man sitting before you.

You straddled his lap, pulling up the hem of your flowy skirt as you did, seating yourself directly on the bulge in his workout shorts that elicited a low moan from him.

“It’s going to be a long night, sweetheart,” he spoke softly, his eyes flickering over your chest and then up to your lips. “We’re going to have to ride this thing out.”

It was said with such implication that despite the heat, you shivered, goosebumps crawling up your back and down your arms, and you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you squirmed on his vast thighs.

“And what are your suggestions for…riding… it out, Captain?”

Will shrugged and smirked, his eyes glowing the same way his skin was from the humidity that hung heavily in the room, his hands groping at your hips.

“I’ve got some ideas.”

You smiled as you cupped his cheeks, loving the way his dark blond facial hair felt against your palms, and pulled him into a kiss while arching your back to get your body closer to his at the same time, both of you breathing out in the relief of your lips meeting.

Will set the pace, starting off with slow rolls of his tongue with yours, his hands carding up and down your body languidly, reminding you that there was no hurry in any of your actions and that you had all the time in the world to do anything you wanted with each other.

You slid your hands down the thick column of his neck to his chest, feeling his pulse hammer against them, landing on his chest where his body heat poured off of him, the cotton of his t-shirt damp and clinging to his form.

It took everything in you to maintain composure, thankful for Will reminding you to slow it down whenever you found yourself moving your hips faster, his hands pressing and digging into your flesh to force you to keep the steady rhythm that he started.

The slick that already saturated your thong teased you the more you ground your aching core against him, feeling his hard cock straining against the material that contained it, the excitement and anticipation of having him buried inside you intensifying by the second.

The skin on your chin and lips were already raw from how long you had been kissing, the steamy makeout session only made better by dry humping each other until you both were on the verge of finishing how you were, your whines and moans growing while your movements decreased to be as light as possible in an attempt to prolong this intoxicating tease.

Will kissed and sucked at your neck and chest, having already exposed more of you by tugging the neckline of your shirt to the side with eager hands, his breath fanning over your sweat-coated skin when he sighed deeply through his nose.

“Fuck me, you’re gonna make me cum in my shorts.”

He huffed out a laugh, but his admission only spurred you on more, grinding harder on him until his humour faded out and was replaced by ferocity, growling as he pressed his lips against yours again, the sweat that saturated his beard transferring onto you.

The storm was still going strong in the background, sheets of rain pummeling the house and striking the window with a sound that mimicked waves crashing the shoreline, the nerves you felt about it shifting into a frenzied arousal that you directed onto the man beneath you.

Your hands struggled to get under his shirt, the material so stuck to his stomach from his sweat that the skin on your palms dragged along his abdomen, the tackiness making it difficult for you to peel it up over his head.

It hit the floor with a slap, the weight of it evidence of how much the heat and you were affecting him, and you smiled against his lips at the sound of his breath hitching as you slid your hands down his chest to land on his solid pecs while your lower half continued to torture him.

You touched him everywhere you could reach, smoothing down his stomach and back up again, cradling the sides of his neck and then over his shoulders, and finally up to his hair where you let your fingers rake through it until you knew you had made it stick up in a spiky mess, deepening your kiss as the sensation made him press harder into your mouth.

The window rattled from the force of the winds, disrupting you enough that you broke your kiss and turned to look at it, the thought of it possibly shattering filling you with worry as you were reminded of your vulnerability.

Will placed his hand on your chin, his thumb smoothing it while his other fingers tucked up under your jawline, guiding your head back to face him where he silently assured you that everything was fine, his eyes reflecting a surety and vow of protection that no amount of reinforcements on the house could ever match. He adjusted the pad of his thumb so it sat on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to part it from the upper one, and it surprised you to see how quickly his expression changed, his eyes darkened so much by lust in a matter of seconds that the look in them rivaled the clouds spiraling outside.

He kissed you desperately, his hands falling to your waist where he lifted your shirt upward, only pausing the union of your mouths long enough to remove it from you, your braless chest grazing against his when you leaned into each other again.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin despite the humidity clinging heavily to the air around you, your nipples hardening and feeling incredibly sensitive each time his body brushed against them, your needy moans pouring into his mouth the more his hands roamed over your mostly bare form.

You could hardly handle it anymore, desperate to feel him deep inside you, moving your hips back slightly so you could access him, tearing the front of his shorts down where you reached in for his cock. Will was helpful, lifting his ass off the couch so his shorts could slide down his thighs in order to expose all of himself, his expression serious with brows furrowed and knitted tightly together as he watched you grip him in your hand and began stroking him tip to base, smearing the precum leaking from it all over his silky shaft.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you back to sit directly on top of his groin, guiding your motions as you rocked your covered pussy on his bare cock.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he hissed, holding your skirt up so he was able to watch you grind along his length, pressing his cock flat against his lower stomach where drips of cum spilled onto the smattering of flaxen pubes.

A slow sigh of approval passed your lips as you continued to languidly ride him, your eyes closing as you lost yourself in the sensation and moaning when you felt Will capture one of your breasts in his mouth and spin his tongue around your nipple.

You could feel him growing more impatient, his lips moving faster along your chest where he eagerly worshiped your tits, his fingers clawing at the thin material of your skirt as if he was ready to rip it to shreds to get at you, and his breathing became more laboured, his chest rising and falling quickly while the exhalations from his nose ghosted against the crests of your breasts.

“I need in there,” he growled, his head shaking to the side a couple of times like there was no way he could handle another second not being inside you, his fingers slipping into the crotch of your saturated panties to pull them to the side before running his index and middle fingers through your slick.

Your mouth pooled with saliva as he drove his long digits in and out of you in broad strokes before bringing them up to his mouth to suck them clean, his other hand angling his cock to line up to part your folds while you lifted yourself up on your knees to allow him access to enter you.

You sank onto him slowly, letting him fill you inch by inch until you encased him completely, his blue eyes locked with yours with an appreciation held in them that made your heart beat faster.

Remaining still, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands holding onto either side of his face, deepening your kiss as you relished in the fullness he provided without moving.

When you parted, Will gave you a soft smile that made you melt, his fingers coming up to trace along the side of your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, the surety in his words clear, although his expression was a thrilling mix of adoration and something waiting to be unleashed, the suspense of experiencing either rough or gentle treatment exhilarating you.

“I love you too, Will,” you breathed, not daring to look away from him.

A strong gale slapped the side of the house, reminding you that the hurricane blasting outside wasn’t to be forgotten, but Will immediately drew your attention back to him, his hands smoothing up your back to hold you against him in a firm, but soft way, his lips pressing onto your shoulder and across your collarbone to your neck, alternating between kisses and nips that told you his control was beginning to falter.

You started moving on him, riding him in careful waves that felt so incredible you weren’t sure how long you could keep it up, knowing that whether you moved slow or fast, you would be reaching your climax in no time.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, resting his back against the couch to watch you, locking his hands on your hips to force you down hard each time you lifted yourself up and almost off his cock.

He was completely enamoured, looking at you as if anything could be happening outside that window and he wouldn’t care to notice, his eyes dancing over your form in a struggle to choose which part of you he wanted to see the most.

Finding the perfect spot that made you thrum with ecstasy, you rolled your hips and bounced up and down, your swollen clit hitting the base of his cock in a shattering blow each time, your skin tingling from head to toe as your orgasm built.

“You’re right there, aren’t you?” Will asked, his words breathy as he admired you sliding on him.

“Yes, fuck!”

Will thrusted up into you a few times, your cries growing loud enough they almost drowned out the noise of the hurricane, your nails digging into the flesh on his shoulder as you approached your high.

“Hey, hey, hold on,” Will interrupted, though his voice was soothing. “Not yet.”

His eyes were big and bright despite the dark grey that had fully consumed the room, and although you were taken aback by him edging you, you couldn't deny the trust you had in him to look after you.

“Sit down,” he ordered, nodding to the space on the couch beside him as helped move your legs off of his.

Will stood and removed his shorts that sat halfway down his legs, stepping out of them before moving to kneel on the floor in front of you, his thumbs smoothing on your knees in a way that contradicted the way he forcefully pressed on them to encourage you to spread your legs for him.

He kissed his way up the inside of your right thigh, a low growl coming from him as he inhaled deeply when he reached your core, and then moved over to your other thigh, peppering wet kisses slowly away from where you needed him most until you were squirming where you sat.

“Will…” you breathed, shifting your hips to try to bring yourself closer to him.

“Let’s get this off,” he grunted, his patience thinning as your skirt was preventing him from taking everything he wanted.

He reached behind you, his fingers easily finding the zipper and pulled it down, keeping steely eye contact while wiggling it off your hips with the help of you shifting from one cheek to the other until he peeled the flowy fabric off of your body.

The creases on his forehead were pronounced as he continued to look up at you as he tugged at the waist of your thong, sliding it down to expose your dripping cunt that his eyes were now fixed on as he guided the wet piece of cotton to your feet.

Will hooked his arms under your legs, letting them relax on his biceps, his tattooed forearms wrapping around your thighs to hold you securely. He pulled you toward him, bringing you to the edge of the cushion so you were flush with his face, his nose brushing your folds before his tongue swiped through the mess he had already made.

A long moan toppled out of you as you raked your fingers through his hair, lifting your hips slightly to get even more contact with his talented tongue that licked at you slowly and precisely in an effort to wreck you.

He picked you apart minute after agonizing minute, continuously bringing you to the peak only to stop you there each time, the violent storm outside going ignored and nothing compared to the one raging inside you.

As always, Will was completely focused on his mission, working you with the expertise he had come to master over all the hours spent learning your body, knowing the exact amount of pressure placed on the perfect spot that would send you soaring.

Not once did his hands leave their hold on your legs, completely unselfish in his art and not even considering touching himself, his generosity and the thought of his leaking, rigid cock left waiting for attention adding to your demise.

You pleaded over and over, his name like a song with the storm as your instrumental background, desperate for release as you ground against his face, your heels digging into his waist as he in turn dug his mouth harder into your cunt.

He had you where he wanted you, and pushing your tolerance a little further, Will unraveled one of his arms from around your leg and slipped his hand between the sofa and you, fingering you slowly while he sucked at your over-sensitive clit, the precise hook of his fingers making you clench around them like a vice.

And then he stopped.

You cursed loudly, whining and squirming as he sat up and looked at you with a satisfied expression, his face glistening from your pleasure.

A stray branch from a tree flew by and struck the house, drawing both of your attention to the window, but Will was quick to recover where your focus belonged.

He stood, a slight hitch as he straightened his long legs, his body that had been put through so much physical turmoil over his years of service known to cramp up if left idle for too long.

Will gripped at your knee, pushing it toward the back of the couch so your body was forced to spin and lay down, crawling between your spread legs until he was positioned over top of you with his arms braced on either side of your shoulders.

He kissed you intensely, moaning into your mouth as his cock nudged where he had left you aching for relief, savouring you like he had gone without the press of your lips on his for days.

His hand found yours, interlacing your fingers as he brought your arm above your head, laying his body completely on yours so he covered you entirely, protecting you with all he had.

He was heavy, but comforting, his weight assuring and a reminder of his strength and unwavering love for you, and at the same time it came as a warning of the crushing power he could choose to have, like he was a hurricane all in himself and you were in his path of destruction.

Will paused in kissing you as he adjusted his hips, looking down between your bodies to watch his cock easily push through your tight folds, a shaky breath exhaling from his parted lips as his brows knitted tightly together at the sensation of being back in your embrace.

You looked to the side to see out the window as another blast of wind surged against the house, only to have Will squeeze your hand that he still held in his, his voice calm and even.

“Hey, focus on me,” he ordered, his eyes a turbulent blue when you met them. “Look at me.”

You nodded, holding his gaze as he began to move inside you, the feel of him stroking your walls in long, slow drags making it difficult to keep your eyes open.

Your free hand ran along the flexing muscles of his back, clawing at his sweat-coated skin as he found a pace that brought you right back to the point he had left you at more than once, your head tipping back into the couch as you were dragged into the throes of pleasure even more intensely than before.

“You’re safe with me, sweetheart,” Will promised, his voice intoxicating and comforting all at once. “I’ve got you, you can relax…”

He spoke against your neck before moving his mouth back to yours, kissing you gently before probing his tongue in, the tempo of his thrusts deepening now that he knew you were succumbing to everything he was giving you.

He moved on you like the wind moved the rain, pushing and forceful, seeking his own release as he rolled against you with fervor and breathy moans were exchanged between your mouths as you chased your highs together.

Your whole body tensed, convulsing and giving up all control as he fucked you through the shattering orgasm made even more powerful thanks to how he had edged you, feeling yourself release on his shaft that alternated between being buried deep inside you and pulling out almost completely.

Will pressed his mouth hard on yours before breaking the seal of your lips, allowing his laboured breaths and rough grunts to sound out as he fought to follow right behind you, the cadence of your contracting walls coaxing out his end.

You could feel him pulse inside you, filling you to the brim with his thick, hot seed that was always generous in its quantity, his pace remaining steady though his rhythm began to break.

Drops of sweat from his brow landed on your chest, his harsh movements shaking the accumulated moisture off of him, continuing to buck into you erratically until he had nothing left to give.

He crashed against your lips again, transferring even more sweat from his efforts onto your skin, his hand releasing yours where he brought it to your head and smoothed it over your hair, kissing you slowly but purposefully as he gradually let the rolling of his hips fade out.

After a minute, Will pulled out of you, reaching for some tissues out of the box on the side table and handed them to you, taking some for himself for you to both clean up. He stood with a grunt, looking down at you with an extended hand to take the soiled tissues from you, the muscles in his cheeks flinching wildly as he clenched his teeth together.

Will paused for a minute, looking out at the tempest scene, all of his veins raised as blood pumped strongly through them, his muscles accentuated beautifully from his efforts, and you couldn’t help but fall even further in love for him, his face stoic and almost unreadable, but only you knew how much emotion lingered beneath.

He sighed as he moved again, stretching his weary limbs while stalking to the kitchen, and you wondered if he had any idea how much you worshiped him even as he did the simplest of things.

You laid there listening to him rummage around, looking out the window at the ever-present hurricane, the room almost completely dark as night had successfully consumed the sun along with the storm.

Will returned with two glasses of water and set one on the table, passing the other to you.

“Drink up, sweetheart,” he drawled, smirking as he spoke. “The eye hasn't even passed over yet, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

The wink he sent you went straight to your core, your anticipation of whatever else he had planned for you enticing you and almost had you hoping this hurricane would last for days.

You returned his smile as you brought the glass to your lips, sipping it as you watched him sit on the couch beside you and grab the lighter off the coffee table, flicking it on so the warm flame illuminated his dewy, gorgeous features in the otherwise dreary dark. He lit the two candles that you had placed there earlier before grabbing his own glass and downing the contents of it, seeing the way his throat moved as he swallowed making you thirsty for more.

He sighed when he finished drinking, running his hand over his face to rid it of the sweat, and looked back over to you still laying where he had left you.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling up your naked form until they landed on yours.

You shook your head ‘no’, giving him a sated smile, thinking how you would happily give up air conditioning and electricity permanently if it meant sharing more moments like this with him.

Will gave a nod and laid down beside you, helping you shift so there was room for him to lay with his front against your back, spooning you comfortably where you both were able to face the window.

His arm draped over your waist and tucked under yours, his hand cupping your breast, and tangling his legs with yours, brought his groin as close to your bum as he could.

He hummed against the back of your neck, his nose brushing your damp skin, and you smiled when you felt he was hard again, his cock pressing between your cheeks.

“You’re going to outlast this hurricane,” you giggled, squirming so your bum rubbed along his shaft, making him growl against your skin.

“Damn right, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his hand running down your stomach and around to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart where he slowly pushed inside your tight walls.

He kissed your neck, the sensation of his beard on your skin making you moan and shiver, his hand returning to your breast where he tugged and pinched at your peaked nipple.

“We're going to need to pace ourselves, here,” he warned in your ear, beginning the slow drag of his cock out of you before slamming it back in, the conflict he felt between wanting to keep you safe and seeking to destroy you playing in his mind.

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Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989

#will miller #will miller smut #will miller x female reader #triple frontier #charlie hunnam #will miller x reader #will 'ironhead' miller #william miller #william 'ironhead' miller #triple frontier fic #will miller fic #charlie hunnam characters

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pimosworld · 21 days

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Read it again- part I

I wanted to start a list of recs that I find myself going back to when I’m happy or sad or just in need of something to distract me from the crazy world we live in. This will be multiple parts so consider this the first installment. These will be old/new/current wips and fics.

Please head the warnings in each fic or series.

Triple Frontier

The devils backbone- @ezrasbirdie

Feed your ego- @whatthefishh

War makes thieves and peace hangs them- @brandyllyn

Messy Pile of Affection Series- @flightlessangelwings

The homecoming series- @astroboots

Awakening Series- @romanarose

Switch to channel 2- @autumnleaves1991-blog

My best friends girl- @tropes-and-tales

Moon Knight

Prized possession- @melodygatesauthor

Third ones the charm-(part I, part II) @missdictatorme

Egg Fried Rice- @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

The Jake problem- (part I, part II) @bensolosbluesaber

For science- @projectionistwrites

Joel Miller

Pink- @netherfeildren

The checklist- @thetriumphantpanda

Trick or Treat- @morallyinept

Meet me in the back- @atticrissfinch

Honey do- @kiwisbell

Take care of you- @theidiotwhowritesthings

Javier Peña

It’s never too late- @javierpena-inatacvest

Paranoid heart- @goodwithcheese

Late night texts- @undercoverpena

D.I.Y.- @swiftispunk

Please comment and reblog the authors works that they pour their time, heart and soul into.

Feel free to leave a comment with your favorite re-read or message me directly to include in future installments.

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musings-of-a-rose · 3 months

Text

Weighted Blanket

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 860+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Chatting about what a great weighted blanket this man would make and so I dedicate this to @laurfilijames. This was not beta read.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

Today had been the day from hell. You knew it would be, especially since you’d been out for several days being sick. Morning meetings ran long, everyone scrambling to prepare to open, and then the patients? Don’t even get me started.

When I finally get into my car at the end of the day, I turn on the ac and rest my head against the headrest taking several deep breaths, just listening to the vents pumping cool air into my hot car. I just have to make it home. A shower is waiting for me and Will should be home today.

Will.

My amazing boyfriend of a year and a half. Will had to go away for work for a few days and was finally coming home. I know a few days isn’t that long but it killed him to leave me when I was sick. And to be honest, I hated not having him there, sick or not.

His truck is in the parking lot when I pull in and I smile knowing he’s upstairs. I hurry to our apartment and push my key in the lock, quickly shedding my shoes and tossing my bag down on the little side table before heading towards the kitchen, where sounds and a delicious, heavenly smell were emanating from. I lean against the door frame, just taking in the sight of him. Will, standing at the stove with his back to me, casually making my favorite food, his hair still wet from a shower, navy blue shirt stretched thin over his broad back and thick arms, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He clicks off the burner and divvy’s the food onto 2 plates before turning, his face lighting up when he sees me.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was work?” When I don’t answer right away, he let’s out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

I nod, pushing off the door frame. “Nothing I didn’t anticipate. Still sucked though.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving. But first I need to shower. I feel so gross.”

Will sets the plates down and takes a few large steps towards me. He moves for a hug and damn do I want one, but I’m gross. People actually spit up on me today. So I sigh, stepping back and Will puts his hands up, freezing in place.

“Must have been really bad.”

“You don’t even want to know.”

He winks and blows a kiss at me, turning back to finish up dinner. The shower was glorious, the hot water and bubbles relaxing me somewhat, and washing away all of the gross from my skin and hair. I don’t linger, my stomach grumbling as I pull on some pajamas and head straight for the kitchen table, where Will had just set down drinks for us. Before I sit, he pulls me to him, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hands cradling my face.

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I really missed you too, Will.” He starts to deepen the kiss, but is interrupted by the loudest grumble yet from my traitor of a stomach. He laughs, placing a hand on my tummy.

“Let’s get some food in you.”

—----

Dinner was delicious, as usual when Will cooks. It’s not just that he follows the recipe to a t, but he has his own personal flair to it. Will’s cooking can make any sour mood turn sweet. Or maybe that’s just me.

After our bellies are full, we sit on the couch and I curl my body against his, feeling his large arm wrap around me, the warmth from him seeping into my bones. He kisses the top of my head and rests his own there, both of us content to just be with the other. But my day was hard and before long, I feel my eyelids drooping. Will must have noticed because I swear I blinked and somehow ended up in bed, Will pulling the blankets up around me before crawling in next to me. He tries to pull me to him, but it’s not what I need. He crooks his finger under my chin, lifting my head to look at him through sleepy eyes.

“Do you need Will blanket?” I nod, my eyes barely open.

Will helps me lay down on my back, making sure my pillow is adjusted before he drapes half his body over mine, linking one of his muscular legs with mine as he tucks himself over me. His arm drapes over my body, rubbing small circles into my opposite arm. I turn my head and realize my nose is in the perfect spot to nuzzle into his hair, so I do it, inhaling the scent of him. The weight of him on me settles my nerves, the last bit of overstimulation and wired emotions leeching from my body the longer I feel his breathing, his body pressing into mine.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

It’s so tender and loving, full of care and I think about how much I love this man as he gently lulls me to sleep.

In the morning, he has different plans for me and I’m so glad I got the rest I needed.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Note

Happy 500! 🩵 I feel like "best friend's brother" and the Millers is something smutty just waiting to happen, maybe? 🫢

Best Friend's Brother.

y. Best Friend's Brother

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. thank you for this request!! another one for my will girlies - love you all <3

Pairing - Will Miller x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 900

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You've known Benjamin Miller since you were a teenager.

He's been there through thick and thin, love and loss, good and bad.

He makes you laugh until you cry, happily watches awful movies with you, and loves to make you breakfast for dinner. He knows you like the back of his hand, and vice versa. He's the best friend you could ever ask for.

He also has the most beautiful brother in the world.

William Miller is the bane of your existence. Golden hair, big blue eyes, gleaming smile. He's aged like a fine wine, and damn have you noticed. You love Benny more than anything, and you'd never do anything to jeopardise that. But my god... it's tempting.

You're one too many tequilas down when you realise you're wobbling. You're holding onto the bar's bathroom sink for balance, attempting to keep yourself upright. You pull out your phone and call Benny, your designated taxi driver.

"Hello?"

"Benny. Baby. I am drunk! So drunk. The room is spinning, actually. Bathrooms don't spin, right?"

"Sweetheart, this is Will. Benny left his phone at my place. Where are you? You need me to come and get you?"

"Will! Hey Will. Wonderful Will. I am drunk. Very drunk."

"You may have mentioned that," he chuckles. "Where are you?"

"O'Lockes, I think. You know the place with the lights? The pretty lights?"

"Yeah, I know the one. Stay there, okay? I'm coming."

He gets to you within 20 minutes, which means he can't possibly have followed any of the speed limits. You're sat on the bench waiting outside when you see his truck pull up.

"Hey, you."

"Hi, William. Beautiful boy. God, you're the best."

"Thank you," he chuckles.

He gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to help you in.

"Chivalry isn't dead, huh?" you giggle. "Such a gentleman. How are you single? Why are you single? Do you want to be? You don't have to be. Every single girl in that bar would swoon for you, William."

"Alright, this feels like 20 questions. You need help with that seat belt?"

Will reaches over and buckles you in. His face is so close to yours, you can smell his toothpaste. The tiny part of your brain that's still rational begs you not to kiss him.

He jumps into the drivers side and starts up the engine. He turns up the heat so you're warm enough, and turns the music down so it isn't too loud. You curl into the heated seat and sigh contently, sobering up pretty quickly.

By the time he's pulling into your driveway, you can't feel the tequila anymore. You're warm, you're happy, and you're madly in love with the man sitting next you. What could go wrong?

"Hey Will?" you ask when he cuts the engine.

"Yeah, honey?"

"Why are you single? I'm not trying to be nosy. Just curious."

"Curious, huh?" he drawls, smiling gently at you.

"I mean - I've never heard you talk about a girlfriend, or even going on a date. Ever since I've known you, you've been practically always single."

"Yeah. Dating isn't really my thing, I guess. Too much effort."

"Too much effort? Will, I've never heard you say anything is too much effort."

He chuckles, and you laugh along with him.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just waiting for a certain someone."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Anyone in particular?" you ask, toeing the line.

"Maybe," he mutters. "Maybe."

He leans in over the centre console and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You thread your hands into his hair and pull him closer, desperate to feel all of him. He grabs your hips and pulls you into his lap, rocking you back and forth.

You whine and the sound shoots straight to his core. He groans in response, tongue licking into your mouth. You shakily unbutton his jeans, pulling your skirt up around your waist.

"Should we go inside?" you pant breathlessly.

"Can't wait that long," he replies quickly. "Need to feel you now."

You pull him out of his underwear and lower yourself down, the both of you moaning in unison. The angle is a little awkward and you accidentally bump your head on the roof of his truck, but neither of you can find it in you to stop.

You set a steady rhythm, rising and falling with determination. Will helps you, grabbing at your hips and moving you as he pleases. You drop your forehead to rest against his, sweat mixing and breaths mingling.

"Oh, fuck," you whine.

"Yeah, baby. Keep going. You're doing so good. Don't stop, yeah?"

"Not stopping," you reply. "Never stopping."

Will moves his thumb to rub circles between your legs, causing you to breathlessly pant his name like a prayer.

"So close, Will. So close."

"Come on, honey. Give it to me. I can feel it. Yeah, that's it."

You fall over the edge with a moan, gripping at his hair. You tug a little harder than intended, but it does the trick, sending him into his own climax. He's groaning your name, and you're convinced the sound will be ingrained in your mind forever.

You're both panting, chests heaving. Then, you burst into a fit of giggles. It seems to be contagious, because Will joins you.

"What?" he asks through the laughter.

"How the fuck are we gonna tell Ben?"

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flightlessangelwings · 6 months

Text

Ktober 2023 Day 23- CNC

Will Miller x fem!reader

Word count- 1.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), consensual noncon, rough sex, bondage, knife play, crops, pussy slapping, creampie, aftercare, reader wears a dress, no use of y/n

Notes- This has been in my wip list for literally like 2 years but I never had more than vibes before now lol. I had a lot of fun writing this tho so I hope y'all like reading it11 Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

“Will? Hey I’m hom…” you were cut off with a hand to your mouth and you struggled against the strong grip that held you in place.

“Don’t scream,” a familiar voice whispered in your ear. He squeezed your arm three times, the signal that meant you were safe.

You whimpered in a warm hand as you reached for his arm and returned the motion, signaling you were good to continue. Will placed a soft kiss on the side of your head before he snapped back into character.

“You’re coming with me,” he growled in your ear as he pushed you inside.

Any cries you let out were muffled by Will’s hand over your mouth, and you fought your hardest against him. Yet, despite your best efforts, he was stronger than you no matter how much you tried to break free. But, as he yanked you into your shared living room, your eyes went wide when you saw the lone chair in the middle of the space, with cuffs and various toys right next to it.

He planned it to happen today.

“Sit still,” he grunted in a low tone as he shoved you into the chair.

You huffed as you tried to take the opportunity to dart away, not wanting to make things too easy for him. It wouldn’t be as fun otherwise. And for a split second, you thought you were going to get away, but Will’s reflexes were honed, and he launched himself after you, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back towards the chair.

With a yelp, you landed hard on the simple chair that Will set up in the middle of the room, and for a moment you were disoriented. He took the opportunity to quickly tie your wrists to the arms of the chair, and before you got your senses back, he bound your ankles to the legs, leaving you trapped and helpless.

Heavy pants escaped your lips as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. Your breasts rose and fell with your breaths as you tried to free yourself, only to find that Will was also an expert in binding, and he tied the knots extra tight. He stood back for a moment to admire his work.

“Perfect,” he purred as he eyed you up and down.

“Let me go,” you protested as you thrashed yourself around.

“I don’t think so,” he tisked as he grabbed your shoulders and forced you to sit still. Leaning forward, he savored the fight you had in your eyes. And it only turned him on more that you were trying your best to make it harder for him.

Will’s eyes trailed down your figure, and he let out a sharp exhale when he saw you wore the dress he told you to that morning before you left. It was a simple dress, and short so that your thighs were exposed as you were bound to the chair.

“Please,” you whimpered.

He smirked, “I like it when you beg,” his tone was low as he reached into his pocket for something.

Your eyes went wide when he pulled out his pocket knife and flipped it open, hovering it over your body, “Beg some more.”

A shiver ran up your spine as you let out a moan involuntarily. Swallowing hard, you spoke in a shaky tone, “Please… Don’t hurt me,” you eyed the knife in his hand.

Will’s eyes darkened as he brought the knife closer to you and slid it under the hem of your dress. With just a growl, he grabbed your dress to pull it tight before he sliced it open in one clean slice. Precise and calculated, just like him, WIll ripped your dress to expose you to him. He let out a low rumble as his gaze raked over your body, landing on your pussy. And he could see how soaked you were through your panties.

Reading his thoughts, you let out a desperate plea as you struggled in your restraints, “No… Please…”

Without another word, he shimmied the knife under your panties, careful not to actually cause you any harm and sliced it open just as easily as he did your dress. His cock twitched in his pants as he let out another growl as his eyes landed on your pussy.

You whimpered as you tried to close your legs, only to find they were tied to the chair, forcing them open.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he stepped back and picked up something, keeping his voice level despite how turned on he was, “I’m going to use this,” WIll held up the crop, “And you’re going to count the number of times I smack that gorgeous pussy.”

You swallowed hard and looked at him in defiance, “What if I don’t?”

Will landed a hard smack on your pussy without warning, causing you to scream loudly. He groaned at the sound you made. “I can go harder if you want to be difficult.”

You whimpered as you let out a few shaky breaths. A few long, tense moments passed before you spoke again, “One.”

WIll grinned darkly, “Good girl.” He smacked your pussy with the crop again.

“...Two.”

Smack.

“Th…ree.”

On the outside, Will Miller was calm, cool and collected as he continued to smack your pussy hard with the crop. Every time you counted, his cock strained more and more in his pants, however, and it became harder for him to keep his composure. With every smack, the tip of the crop became more soaked from how turned on you were.

He made it all the way to ten before he snapped. As tears filled your eyes and you let out soft whines, Will lost it. He threw the crop aside and pounced on you. A feral growl rumbled in his chest as he ripped the binds off of your limbs and shoved you to the ground.

Too disoriented from the assault on your pussy, you barely even processed that you were suddenly on the floor. The cold on your skin barely registered in your mind, and neither did the fact that you were free. You couldn’t even try to run away this time, though, not even when Will grabbed you and flipped you over onto your back.

“I’m going to take what I want now,” Will groaned as he quickly freed his cock and lined himself up with your pussy.

Your eyes went wide as your brain finally caught up with your situation. You tried to scrabble away, but WIll pinned you down, and in one swift movement, he thrust himself into you completely.

A gasp escaped your mouth as it dropped open in a silent scream at the intrusion. Tears fell from your eyes as you laid helpless on the floor while Will pounded into you with everything he had. He groaned an incoherent string of curses as he thrust into you over and over again, feeling your warm tightness engulf him.

“S-stop… Please…” you whined.

“No,” he growled, “You’re mine now, beautiful.”

Something about him using an affectionate term while pounding into you harshly made you moan. The thickness of his cock burned slightly, especially after he smacked your pussy hard, but that pain only added to your pleasure. You stayed in the moment though, and cried and begged for him to stop while he thrust into you.

Will grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the ground, holding you in place while he rocked into you faster. He groaned as he started to give in to his own pleasure while you screamed and cried underneath him. Then, Will felt your inner muscles clench around him and your moan hit a different pitch.

“You going to cum on my cock, gorgeous?” he asked with a teasing laugh, “Going to cum for me even if you don’t want to?”

“N-no,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“You say ‘no,’” he teased, “But I think this pussy,” Will thrust into you hard, burying himself to the brim inside you, “Says ‘yes.’”

“No, please…” you whined as tears continued to fall as Will resumed his thrusts.

But, you were helpless against him, and as he pounded into you, WIll hit that sweet spot deep inside you and it didn’t take much longer for you to cum against your will. You tried to fight it off, but your body trembled and you cried out before you could stop it.

“That’s it,” he purred, “Are you ready for me to cum in you now?”

“No!” you gasped as your eyes shot open.

“Fill you up?” Will continued, ignoring your protests.

“No…” you repeated in a weaker voice.

Will groaned as he pumped himself into your pussy a few more times until his own climax hit. He growled as he covered you with his body as he emptied his cock into you, filling you up even more. You laid helpless underneath him, forced to take what he gave you until he was spent.

Together, the two of you laid on the floor in a sweaty mess. Heavy breaths filled the room as the two of you came down from your highs. After a moment, Will pushed himself onto his elbows and covered your face in soft, tender kisses.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked in a soft voice, “I didn’t actually hurt you, did i?”

“No,” you replied in a whisper, “That,” you sighed, “Was fucking amazing.”

Will smiled at you, “It was,” he cupped your face, “You did so well, sweetheart,” he looked at you with an affectionate gaze before he leaned in and kissed you deeply, “Come on, let me take care of you now,” he hissed as he slowly pulled out of you, “Thanks for trusting me, baby.”

You smiled as you let yourself fall into his arms, “I always trust you, Will,” you hummed contently, “Thank you for indulging me with this,” you added with a laugh.

He joined your laughter, “Anything for you, sweetheart,” he kissed you gently, “Anything for you.”

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trulybetty · 7 months

Text

oct' x 8 - umbrellas

Prompt: umbrellas Pairing: will miller x gn!reader Word Count: 662 Warnings: mentions of both therapy and panic attacks and she angsty Summary: wait, will miller? how'd you sneak in here? couldn't be for all the thots I've sent @rhoorl the last couple of days? well, you are pedro character adjacent, I guess you can stay...

x. masterlist

Will looked out of the window next to him, floor to ceiling glass that shielded him from the rain outside. The busy street was a sea of umbrellas as people rushed from point A to point B without a care for those around them, their focus only to get out of the torrential downpour.

Fall was almost non-existent in Florida, the state where seasons seemed to simply ignore the calendar. But the rain, it was there and it was a reminder. Six days ago was the first time it had rained since he’d returned from Colombia and the first time in a long time that he’d had a panic attack.

The windows had been left open from the evening before, it was muggy, but the air conditioner wasn’t necessary. He’d woken to the sound of rain pelting the trees just outside the bedroom window, the noise instantly took him back to the jungle. Before he could think rationally, he found himself entangled in the bed sheets, his body drenched in cold sweat and his breathing shallow and rapid.

Frankie had suggested this place, it was where he’d started going as soon as he got the news of the baby. It was also the first place he went after he’d arrived home and had built bridges with his girlfriend.

Frankie had said it was important to talk about it, to deal with the trauma instead of locking it away. And so, here he was, staring at the rain, waiting for his turn to sit in the hot seat.

The events in Colombia had highlighted that maybe his affinity for numbers was not so much a quirk but a coping mechanism. With Tom’s death and a healing wound that still gave him grief, Will had quickly realized that he needed more than numbers to help him get through the hangover of the night befores panic attack.

Running his hands over the denim of his jeans he felt the roughness of the material grate against his palms, a tactile anchor to the present moment. The texture, the weight, all of it served as a physical reminder that he was here, not in Colombia, not in some firefight. That the appointment today had been a good thing.

A car horn from outside shook Will from his thoughts, looking out through the window. Pulling his hood over his head, he stood and made a dash from the office to the running truck that had just pulled up outside.

He opened the car door, shuffling in as he pulled back his hood, making sure the door was closed he turned to face you in the driver's seat and you gave him a soft smile. He’d been too nervous and too afraid of what trying to drive in the rain would do for his anxiety, so he’d asked you to drop him off. You’d been getting coffee in a small bookstore down the way. A hole in the wall kinda place that Frankies girlfriend had recommended.

Killing time until you got a text from Will that he was ready.

The air inside the truck was warm compared to the chill of the rain outside. You turn down the radio, the atmosphere heavy but not uncomfortable. Will glanced your way, his eyes searching for something—perhaps assurance or understanding.

“How was it?” you asked cautiously.

He sighed, “It was,” he hesitated, not knowing yet what he wanted to share of his first session, “it was something, it was intense.”

You nodded sympathetically as you put the truck into drive, “You took the first step, I’m proud of you.” you reached over and squeezed his hand in yours, you’d let him talk when he wanted to talk. “There’s a coffee there for you.” you nodded at one of the two paper cups in the cup holders.

He looked back at you, and for the first time in days, there was a small but genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”

#october x 500 #autumnal offerings #will miller x reader #will miller x you #will miller x f!reader #will miller x female reader #will miller x gn!reader #will miller x gn reader #will miller fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Necessary Arrangements: ch 3

Will Miller x female Reader A Princess Diaries inspired Triple Frontier AU Co-written with @steeevienicks

Upon returning from Colombia with one fewer member of his former special forces team, Will Miller is met with the revelation that his absent father is dying and Will is expected to take over the family business. Which would be fine, if the family business weren’t the running of an entire small nation. This is Will’s chance to start over and do some good in the world - but how will he cope with his new life and the woman he is supposed to spend it with?

Rating: Teen, but as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 15.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series include family death, cursing, and food descriptions.* The yearning is starting up real quick here, guys. Not sure there are really any warnings afoot, though. Summary: The chaos of embracing royal life is a lot for Will to swallow, but the craziest part of all of it might be how quickly he finds himself attracted to you - or maybe it’s the calls home to the guys. It’s hard to tell which. Notes: We’re back from our accidental hiatus and we are better than ever! We’re introducing some supporting cast members in this chapter and getting the plot rolling on into high gear!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

The speech writers did a marvelous job with his first address. They kept it clean and to the point, warm and encouraging as Freidlyn steps into a new age while still honoring its roots and traditions. The respectful grieving of a son and half-brother who is embracing his heritage and home head-on. You had stood behind the cameras with Minna, watching the attentive man you met just this morning at breakfast, square his shoulders like a ready soldier and prepare for the battlefield of public speaking. The ease and charm that was so surprising in his voice did not come until later - halfway through the speech when he improvised slightly and made everyone in the room smile from how fully engaging your new king truly is as a speaker. He said he had done this before. He had given motivational speeches and talked with American soldiers. It showed.

“How did I do, ladies?” He asked once the flurry of the televised speech was over. He was nervous at first but found his confidence around halfway through - making sure people were invested and engaged with the words so carefully written for him. If he’s honest, he knows he did well – he excelled with speaking to troops about his experiences in and out of the military and was able to hold crowds over with what he was saying, but he really just wanted you to tell him he did well.

“Very well done, your Majesty.” Minna isn’t one for empty compliments and had anticipated giving just a polite nod of approval, but this man is a natural public speaker. There is no doubt about that.

“You were—” With your hands around your own waist and holding to yourself tight, the unconscious attempt to hold yourself back from him is very real. Two hours, one meal, and one speech is far too little time to developing an affection for him and yet here you are. “You were wonderful.” It’s honest, at least, and you manage to keep from looking too doe-eyed in the process. “Your father, god rest his soul, would have been proud to hear you talk about taking the throne as coming home.”

Your polite but sincere words make him smile wider than he realizes. He bites his lip to keep himself from appearing too giddy, but the red coating his cheeks gives him away. “Thanks, plum,” he clears his throat – a nervous habit he’d never get rid of. “That means a lot coming from someone like you. What now? More speeches? A tour?” He’s hopeful. Hopeful to spend more time with you and getting to know you.

“That will be the only speech for today.” Minna smiles at his eagerness and dips her fingers into the thick folder in her arms – only to pull out a smaller folder from its contents. “If you will please fill out these pages by supper time, I will collect them then. Please be as specific as possible when you can.” She looks between the two of you and nods in a knowing sort of way. “Perhaps her Ladyship would like to give you a tour of the palace in my place?”

“I—” Surprised by the offer, you can’t say it doesn’t appeal to you. Time alone with him is valuable and might not be easy to come by once he is fully ensconced in his duties. “I can do that. Of course.”

“Very good.” Another nod and a smile from Minna, and she extracts an identical folder from her arms to hand to you after William takes his from her hand. “Luncheon will be served in the small dining room at noon sharp.”

Will watches her exit and then turns his attention back to you. “So! Show me everything!” He’s excited – fully expecting there to be secret passages and hidden doors much like the stories and movies he consumed as a child. “What’s your favorite thing about this place?” He’s excited now, he realizes. Excited to see his new home, excited to spend time with you and figure out what makes you tick.

The tactics of Mademoiselle Minna Thorn do not surprise you in the least, nor are they particularly subtle, but you don’t comment on it. “Well, this wing of the palace is mostly for business. Offices, rooms used for meetings. The east wing, the other side of the palace, is for residential use and guest sleeping quarters.” Fidgeting slightly, you tuck the file folder into the broad, thin handbag you’ve been carrying. “Of course, this is just the main palace for business. If you prefer to make your residence at one of the other properties, there are three more to choose from.”

“Huh. I guess I thought everything and everyone was here permanently,” he ponders. “Well, tell you what,” Will places his hands on his hips, “Show me all of them when you have time, and whichever one feels the most homey to you, whether it be here or one of the other places – we’ll call it home. I can make myself comfortable anywhere. I’ve slept in some pretty cramped and not so ideal places and made it out just fine, so I’m trusting you with choosing where we relax after a long day's work.” He wants to give you as many options to choose as possible – fully trusting you to make the right choices along with him.

“Your father lived here, primarily. Parliament is nearby and he chose convenience. Frederick preferred Bertgen Castle on the western coast, and summered at Chèvrefeuille Palace. He likes – liked, excuse me – the gardens there best. Chèvrefeuille is the French name for honeysuckle, and the grounds there are full of it. Castle LaRoche is inland. On top of a very large hill or a very small mountain depended on how you look at it. And is mostly a museum now.” Beginning to walk, your fingers itch with nervous energy but you don’t let the rest of your body show it. “I’ve spent the most time here and at Chèvrefeuille.” The room you stroll into, side by side, is laden floor to ceiling with portraits and set with two beautiful, carved desks. “This is Fräulein Thorn’s office, and she will share it with whomever she hires to be her second in command. The Portrait Room was chosen by your father’s assistant because he found it the most imposing.”

Will listens to you talk about the options he was presented and pauses before speaking. “How about…I stay here for a while, while I adjust to everything and then if I’m not liking the whole ‘no work-life separation balance’ thing we go somewhere else? I mean are you living here now? Or do you have a different place to call home every night?”

“Your father summoned me before…” You clear your throat gently, walking with him into the next room. “I live in an apartment in a different part of the city, but…you’re in charge now. If you want me to stay here, you only need to say so.” As soon as he decides that he wants to make your courtship and engagement official, you’ll be quitting your job and moving into the palace anyway. He only has to say the word.

“Miss Thorn is great and all, but it would be nice to have someone else nearby. She kind of scares me, if I’m being honest. Are you opposed to moving your things in? I can help!” He’s excited to have you close. Your warmth is a welcome presence in his life.

“I am not opposed to it at all.” In fact, your apartment is something of a holding space right now. Your job and your space just a place to exist in until Frederick decided to live up to his responsibilities. That time had not come yet, so you were still waiting. “You really are…very different from Frederick. It—it’s nice.”

He’s a little taken aback, “I am? I really don’t know anything about him. What was he like?” Will is curious. He gets the suspicion that Frederick wasn’t a bad guy, per se, but wasn’t exactly the ideal companion for you either. “Sugarplum, I’m going to say this right now and I need to you take me seriously,” he stops mid-stride, taking notice of how stiff your posture becomes. “If I’m ever out of line, or rude or just…not pleasant in any way, I want you to call me out for it. Please. Put me in my place if I’m ever…foolish or anything, okay?”

“I..I don’t think you would ever do anything foolish on purpose.” From what you’ve seen from him, he’s a straightforward and well-intentioned man. After years of waiting on the sidelines, to be so intimately involved is both overwhelming and a little scary. “I promise to do everything I can to help you. So if that means…nudging you in the right direction from time to time, I’ll do it. I’m sure you’ll find things about me that you aren’t particularly fond of, either. We must do what we can to get along.” You’ll never expect his love, but you do hope to at least be his friend.

Will is grateful for the contract that was signed when you were a child – which he feels weird admitting to himself. As you continue touring the palace grounds he can start to picture his future here – you, by his side as queen, your bond continuing to grow and maybe, hopefully learning to love each other if it felt right. Is it weird to think it might?, he thinks to himself. He never in a million years thought this was something he would be okay with – always content with the chase and swiping on Tinder to find a nice gal to spend a few nights with. He’s staring at you again as you walk, he realizes. Shaking his head and looking straight ahead to avoid any awkwardness.

“The grand ballroom.” You announce as a nearby servant jumps forward to open the heavy, ornate door before you can reach for it. You smile and thank the boy, waiting for Will to enter the room first before you signal to the servant to shut the door behind you. No prying eyes or ears in here. “I don’t suppose you ever learned to waltz in America?”

As soon as the both of you step into the ballroom Will feels like he’s having his very own “Beauty and the Beast moment” (for the record, he’s calling dibs on being Beast in this scenario). It’s beautiful, ornate, and timeless – right out of a fairytale. The ceiling is perfectly decorated with a painting of a sky with puffy clouds and angelic cherubs. A large but delicate chandelier hangs in the middle and casts tiny rainbows all throughout the room due to the sun hitting the windows at just the right angle. “No, never, but if you’d be so kind…” He gestures to you, leaving his request lingering between you.

Oh, that was not the response you expected, but it is too much of a moment to pass up. Stepping closer, you guide one of his hands to your back and place yours on his shoulder, lightly putting your other hand into his and stretching out your arms together. “We’ll have to get you a dance teacher.” You tease softly, knowing that he’ll be required to do plenty of this in the years to come. “Move with your right foot first, one step toward me and a slight turn.” Though there isn’t any music, it still feels like the room should be flooded with it in the late morning sun.

“Like this?” He asks as he follows your direction. Finding it’s not as difficult as he had imagined. He could get used to this closeness. The two of you continue to dance in silence for a few moments, laughing when he trips over his own feet a few times. Okay maybe it’s a little difficult.

“It’s easier with music.” You promise him, still in the circle of his arms when he steps on the toe of your shoe once again. “You’ll, um…you’ll have to learn. For your coronation.” The state dinner after his father and brother’s funeral won’t have dancing, but the coronation ball will be exactly that – a ball. “Traditionally the first dance would be with the queen, but you might dance with the Prime Minister first instead? Minna will know what the protocol is.”

“Well, I’d like to think I’m a good student if you’re willing to teach me how to be more graceful. I know I need a lot of polishing…” He’s hopeful you’ll be the one to teach him, to be the one he dances with from now on. “I’m sure the prime minister is nice, but I’d much rather dance with my sugarplum.”

“It will start rumours.” He’s still not entirely aware of what he is getting himself into, and you have to remember that. While he may not have to run the country, every step he takes will be scrutinized from here in out. “For that matter, moving me into the palace and having me by your side will start rumors.” But even so, you can’t quite bring yourself to step out of his arms. There’s something comforting about him that you can’t put your finger on, even though you’ve only known him a few hours. “I’m…fully prepared to do my duty, but it would not give you much space to change your mind about the contract. If you wanted to find someone else, it would cause a scandal. And…seeing as there may be some people who aren’t fond of having a king who was raised in a different country and barely even knew he was Freidlych in the first place…I don’t want to cause you any harm.”

Will steps away from you slightly, not realizing that him being all in could reflect negatively on you. “Oh…I—I guess I never considered that.” He feels bad. Did you feel uncomfortable with him being so forward? He’s nearly positive he won’t want to void the contract, but you do make valid points. “Well, maybe we should wait on some stuff then? I’m sorry,” He says quietly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think poorly of you or start rumors when they could be avoided…” He sounds sad, but understands where you’re coming from.

“I only mean that, I want you to have time to think about it.” For some reason, having him step away feels more like a punishment then you’re willing to admit to yourself. There is, at least for you, a sort of instant attraction at play here. But the fact that he is handsome won’t make the next forty or fifty years of your lives easy by any means. “To become prince, king, husband, and father all in the course of a few years is a change that would make most men crumble. And I—” You smooth your nervous hands down the length of your dress, reminding yourself that this is a private moment. Just for the two of you. And he asked you to speak your mind. “I love my country too much to see her embroiled in scandal. Just as I…I find very much that I want to see you succeed. So, the way I see it, we have options to consider.”

His demeanor changes then as he takes you into his arms again and attempts to keep waltzing around the grand ballroom. “Let’s avoid scandals then.” He smiles timidly. “I want to succeed as well for the sake of my father and this country, and I want your success to be…well, everything you could ever dream of it being. That’s all I want for you,” He says your name, drawing your eyes to his.

“We have options.” Why do you get such a shiver when he speaks to you softly? It’s like a summer breeze eating through your whole body. Well, alright, you know why. But why now? Why this man? “If we simply move forward with the contract, there will be plenty of questions about how we met. We can simply tell the truth, but that will raise plenty of concerns from those who dislike you for being raised elsewhere. We can go so far as to claim it was love at first sight at the breakfast table and hope that the people find it charming; or we can insert a tiny lie. Say that we had met before, years ago, and that meeting again has rekindled a spark. I’ve been to America before. Several times. I’m sure we could come up with something.”

Will thinks for a minute before an idea sparks. “I like the idea of us meeting before, and since you’ve been to America why don’t we say we met and stayed…I don’t know, pen pals or something? And the rest is history and all of that.” He offers, liking the idea of coming up with a romantic little story to go along with the betrothal.

“Tell me about your life, then.” He’s less unsteady, somehow, when you talk during the steps. As though not thinking about them so much actually helped him to be more graceful. “A lie is always more convincing when it is close to the truth.”

“Well,” He begins, gripping you a little tighter as you sway around the room. “My name is William Miller – I just moved here from North Carolina where I lived near my mom and half-brother Benny. I served in the military for a handful of years and my best friends – who would all really enjoy getting to know you, by the way, all served with me. We were what’s called Delta Force, it’s special forces. I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy, love relaxing on the couch with a beer and a ball game, I like to hike but my last one was…” he pauses, thinking about Colombia. “Not the greatest. I enjoy movies, music, and I’m learning that dancing is also pretty nice.” He laughs as he dips you. “Oh, and I’m the future king of Freidlyn, nice to meet ya.”

“Current king.” You shake your head at him with something very clearly like affection. He’s a good man, from everything you know about him. Relatively straightforward and wants to do the right thing. Even though the right thing means completely changing his life with no option to turn back. “Your friends…your brother…your mother. They will all know that we have not met before. Can they be trusted to keep the secret?” Your own family, for their part, will be silent as a vault on the topic. As far as they are concerned this little story will just be a part of the contract. Even your youngest sister, for all her attention-seeking, would never go against the word of the crown.

“I trust the guys with my life. If they’re ever able to come visit, you’ll see why. They wouldn’t jeopardize this for us, promise.” He’s telling the truth – though there have been issues in the past for different reasons with his friends, he knows they’d take this seriously. “They will have questions, but they won’t ask them when it’s not appropriate. And if I tell them to fuck off…oh sh-shoot, sorry, they’ll drop it.”

“You can curse with me.” He’s done in before and apologized, just leaving you to smile about it and brush it off as the conversation continued. “When it’s just as, we can be less formal. That’s what you prefer, right?”

”Please,” he’s relieved. “I’m a veteran of the US Army, it’s so hard not to curse.” he laughs, thinking of all the colorful phrases and adjectives that were used during his time in the service. “But you’d probably be offended if I completely let loose, so I’ll monitor myself while still letting a few ‘fucks, damns and shits’ slip out.”

“I do have brothers.” He turns you in his arms in a move that is very nearly graceful and you laugh with what might be called actual delight. “Three of them, actually. And one sister. So please believe that I can curse when it is called for.”

“Good! That’s a relief,” he laughs. “So tell me about them, tell me about you. How did we meet? Wine bar? Disney World? Take your pick, plum.”

“I went to Disney World once as a child,” you chuckle softly. “So I doubt that would be a good story. But I have been to New York, to Chicago, to Boston, and to New Orleans, all as an adult. Usually with one of my siblings, or my friend Elsie. They will vouch for our story to the press if asked.”

Ideas start coming together in Will’s mind. “Alright, how about we met on a cemetery tour in New Orleans a few years back and hit it off? You and your friends had me tag along on a night out in the French Quarter and we exchanged information and have been pen pals of sorts ever since?” He did take a solo trip and did just those things a few years back, and it could work.

“That trip was with Elsie.” Chewing on your lip is a bad, old habit of yours but it still pops up from time to time like it is now. At some point the formless dancing has stopped, leaving you simply standing in each other’s arms near the far corner of the ballroom. “We went to jazz clubs and ate just about everything, and took a little boat tour through a swamp to a plantation house. It was…beautiful, actually. And a little…I think creepy is the word?”

“Yeah, creepy is a good word to describe plantation houses. Fucked is another, but that’s just between you and I.” Now Will is wishing this trip had actually happened. Maybe in the near future it could? Sans Elsie.

“It would be easy to say we lost contact over time.” Now that the wheels are spinning in your head, you dearly wish it had been him sending you and Elsie drinks in those clubs or asking you to dance. “It was three years ago that I was there. Is that…an acceptable time frame?”

“It’s too good, baby doll. We just lost touch because of work and the killer time difference, but let's say one night I got brave and called you out of the blue and here we are: rekindled because the connection and chemistry were just too good to deny after all this time. C’est la vie!”

Snorting softly at baby doll, you cover your mouth to stifle the little grin that plays on your lips. “New Orleans, then. A few years ago, and we lost touch. We can tell Elsie when we go to the library later.” Your lifelong best friend being in the service of the crown did make it a little easier to spend time in the palace when you had been summoned by the king or prince, and had definitely led to you making friends with more of the staff after just a little while. “The…the slightly less tasteful gossip magazines…they will insinuate that we did more than just meet there. You understand that?” It is what it is. They are rumours that will take on a life of their own, but he needs to be aware it will happen.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a rumor has been spread about my sex life.” He laughs. “Trust me, if I even repeated some of the jokes and words that flew while in the military you’d laugh. Enlisted men have no couth and will say anything to get a rise or a laugh. I’m sure it’s all been said about me before and it doesn’t bother me. Unless they say something nasty about you, then I’ll have a problem.” He has no issues defending a woman who has been harassed.

“We wouldn’t comment on it.” Although now that you’re thinking about it, it’s hard not to wonder what lies beneath the well-tailored suit he has on. No. No. This is neither the time nor the place for that sort of thing. “You should just be aware that it will happen.”

“Thanks for looking out for me.” He smiles – you don’t know it, but he’s having the same thoughts as you – what your skin would feel like under his hands, how you’d look blissed out beneath him. He has to immediately think of Catfish and the mule incident before he gets carried away.

“We seem to have made it across the ballroom…” The observation is fairly useless, but you have to say something that will tear your mind away from how beautifully soft his lips look. Not the time or the place! “And…I think it is nearly time for lunch. We can finish the tour in the East wing after we eat?”

Nodding his head, Will takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hypnotizing perfume – he will have to remember to ask what is it you wear later when it feels less weird. “I gotta say, this dancing has worked up an appetite. I am looking forward to our lunch.” He smiles. "And then the rest of the tour, of course."

“And filling out our papers for Minna.” Both file folders are safely tucked in your handbag, but you know that they need to be done by dinner time and you won’t let them be forgotten. “Are you ready to tell your mother everything? Or would you prefer to wait a little?”

“My mom is a pretty tough lady; I think we should tell her over lunch. She already knows there are a lot of changes coming very quickly so I think the sooner the better.” Apparently, his mom has lived this life before, albeit briefly, so he’s hopeful she’ll understand that she’s very quickly going to be gaining a daughter-in-law.

“Come, then.” Motioning for him to follow, you head to a hidden door in the corner by the windows, carefully unlatching the secret knob and pushing it open to reveal a rather spectacular and giant formal dining room. “They are interconnected for ease,” you tell him, grinning when you see the delighted look on his face at the hidden door. “So that on nights when there is a supper and ball, the guests need not get lost between rooms. And the kitchens are directly below us, stretching most of the length of the west wing.”

“You’re shitting me,” he whispers, elated at the secret door you take him through. “That’s so cool. You have to show me more of these!” He’s nearly giddy at how exciting a secret door is to him. “I think I’m gonna like palace living, plum.” He looks amazed as he steps through the door. “Any other fancy secrets for the ball?”

“There is…more or less…an escape route.” And it is not at all something you would need to keep secret from the staff, as they all undoubtedly use the secret passages to go about their duties more efficiently, as well as keeping them clean. “From the ballroom, up into the northeast tower, and it drops off at two different suites. One of them being yours, of course.”

“You mean to tell me I have my own secret door? What is this day?” Will laughs – harder than he has all morning. “God, if only I have one of those when I was trying to avoid Benny when we were growing up. Plum if we were better acquainted, I’d kiss you right now. This is amazing.” He knows he’s too excited and being ridiculous about the doors, but he can’t help himself.

Your eyes flick over to the footman who is doing his best to be invisible behind the screen in the corner of the room and you can’t help but be a tiny bit disappointed that there is a witness, preventing you from just being bold here in this moment. The thing you can do instead, though, is tease. “You, and whoever is in the second suite. Perhaps it should be Benny’s when he comes to visit?”

“Hm, nah, preferably not…” He lets his words linger, hoping that eventually you’d take an interest in visiting his quarters. “Benny would expect that too much and I don’t want him feeling spoiled now that big bro is the King.” He has no idea how Benny is even going to react when he finds out.

“You should call him.” It’s the smallest suggestion in the world, all things considered, but you know that if it were you, you would want Elsie and your siblings to know what is happening in your life. “And they should come visit. Your friends, I mean. I would think you would want them here for your coronation?”

“I was actually going to ask if it’s okay to invite them. They’ll be on their best behavior, and I think half of them own suits. You’re also right, I really should call my brother. I think…I’ll put him on a flight and tell him in person. Or maybe just tell him right out. It’s huge news…what would you do? If Elsie didn’t know.”

“For Elsie?” Gazing out the window for a moment, you truly do have to consider how you would tell that sort of phenomenal news to the person you care most for in this world. It isn’t an easy thought by any means. “I would tell her straight out. Be as honest as I can. And then book her on the first flight over here so I could give her a big hug.” You half-laugh under your breath, realizing how silly it sounds. “Your real friends should be here to support you.”

He knows you’re right, but just doesn’t know what to say to his brother and friends. Whatever comes from the heart, right? “Do…do I have some time to make a few calls before lunch?” He asks, wanting them to know. He has no doubt every single one of them will drop everything to hop on the first flight to Freidlyn – he would do it for them.

Flicking your wrist to check your watch, you consider the hour but nod. “We have twenty minutes. It’s not a lengthy phone call, but it should be enough to get through to your brother.”

He nods, “Care to join me? Should be a great into to Benny.” He has no doubt Benny will adore you. “Then after lunch we call my friends?”

“I will join you on one condition.” There’s a playful note to your voice, letting him know you’re of course going to do what he asks of you but you’re going to be cheeky first. “Do you remember how to get back to the Blue Room from here?”

“I think I can manage.” He laughs loudly, taking five steps ahead of you and looking around, completely lost. “...With some help, of course.” He winks, offering his arm – if you weren’t so beautifully distracting he definitely would have paid better attention to where the two of you had walked this morning.

The Blue Room is a short walk from the formal dining room, but quick enough if you know the way – which you certainly do. You move easily with your hand around his arm, glad there is no way for him to feel how horribly your heart is beating through so many layers of clothing.

“See? Easy.” He laughs. His heart is hammering in his chest for two different reasons now. “I guess it’s time we let Benny know what’s going on.” He says as he pulls the sleek phone out of his pocket. Benny’s number is already programmed and ready. He keeps your arm through his as he presses the green call button and lefts the phone to his left ear with his other hand.

You don’t want to, but slipping away for just a second to shut the door of his office for privacy is a must. It only takes a moment to be back at his side when you hear a boisterous. “Hey asshole!” Through the phone and you smirk. Ah, brothers.

"Listen, Benjamin – we need to have a little chat about some stuff." He says, trying to keep his composure. Will and Benny have always had a good relationship, but he's really not sure how he's going to react to finding out his brother is a king.

“Benjamin?” On the other end of the line, Benny yawns animatedly. “You wake my ass up at 6am and you call me Benjamin? What’s going on?”

"A shit ton, actually," Will begins. "So, you know how I never really knew much about my dad and mom never liked to talk about him?" He bites his lip.

“Yeah?” Benny shuffles in bed, smothering another yawn. “Mom’s okay, right? She cancelled dinner on me last night and she was gonna make fried chicken so I am jonesing.”

“Yeahyeahyeah, mom’s great. She’s with me actually.” He takes a deep breath. “Well, turns out my dad was king of Freidlyn, you know that nice little European country with the jam and really good whiskey? Um. There was an accident, and he and my other brother passed away and nowI’mtakinghisplaceasking.” he blurts out, hoping Benny was awake enough to hear and comprehend what he just said.

There is dead silence for about fifteen seconds during which you and Will can’t seem to do anything but stare at each other, before raucous laughter bursts out on the other end of the phone. “Fuck you, dude.” Benny Miller laughs down the line. “That’s not even a good prank. King of Freidlyn? Pope came up with this one, right? Had to be Pope to pick someplace so obscure.”

“That’s what I thought too, but nope. It’s legit. I can turn this camera on and FaceTime you right now. I’m in this un-fuckin’-believable palace. In a custom-tailored suit. In my office. I’ve been here since yesterday, and I’m not coming home. I need to do this, and I need you here, so I’m booking you a flight. Like, as soon as we hang up. I’m so serious Ben.”

“Dude it’s too early for your shit.” Benny grumbles. “You’re supposed to be at my fight tonight remember? That ring girl you like is gonna be there and I swear to god if you don’t take her home this time I will, just to piss you off.”

“Benny,” Will stresses before hitting the ‘FaceTime’ button on the call. “Accept my fuckin’ video call and I’ll show you that I’m not shitting you. I swear little bro. For once I’m not bullshitting you.” Will taps his foot impatiently while he waits for Benny to accept the video. He looks to you like you’re an anchor for him. The video finally connects, and he’s met with Benny’s exhausted and annoyed face.

It takes about five seconds to register the surroundings on the other end of the video before Benny is scrambling to sit up in bed and turn the light on. “Holy—I mean—what the fuck…?” He shakes his head vigorously like it will somehow jostle his thoughts back into place but just continues to look stunned. “Holy shit,” he finally breathes when he can form a sentence, but clears his throat the second Will pans the phone around to include you in the shot. “I mean, uh…WOW. You…you’re not messing, are you?”

“Not messing.” He laughs and then introduces you “She’s been a big help, and if you get your ass on a plane tonight, I’ll explain more. Don’t tell the guys though. I’m calling them after we have lunch.” He wants his brother in the same room when he tells him he’s more than likely going to marry you and make you queen. “Mom’s here for a while so maybe you can get your damn fried chicken.” He laughs.

“I’ll beg off the fight.” Benny promises instantly. “Tell then I had a family emergency. The kid I’ve been training with can take it.” He’s up and out of bed now, holding his phone up as he moves across his room. “But, uh…what do I pack?”

“Um…” He looks at you quickly. “Nice stuff – suit pants, suit coat, a tie, clean button up. Just bring the nicest shit you have. If you need me to I can probably ask someone to get nice clothing for you. Oh, bring your dads onyx cufflinks too - those are great. I’ll have flight details texted to you shortly. Thanks for dropping everything for me, Ben.” He’s grateful, he really is, and you can’t help but notice how Will took charge of getting his brother to Freidlyn.

“You would do it for me.” Benny nods to the camera, eyes flicking over to you momentarily but not asking anything else. “I’ll see you soon then, bro.”

Will hangs up the phone and stuffs it back into his pocket. “That’s Benny for ya.” He chuckles. “He’s great, really. I think you’ll get along just fine. So!” he claps his hands. “Lunch?”

“Lunch.” Later on, after speaking with his friends, you’ll have a better handle on if it’s just a familial bond, or if Will truly has this effect on people. Engendering their trust and loyalty to a boundless degree. “You should let Minna know now that she will need to schedule flights so she can have some seats blocked out. Even if all of your friends can’t come tonight, she can at least – what is the phrase – get the ball rolling?”

“Smart and beautiful, you’re quite the gal, Sugarplum.” Will smirks as he links your arms together once again. “Lead the way to lunch, my lady. I’ll let Minna know we have plans to bring the boys.”

Pursing your lips at him like you’re going to make a joke, you simply shake your head and give him arm a gentle squeeze. “Come,” you insist, inching him toward the door. “It’s time to introduce me to your mother.”

“She’s not as loud as Benny, I’m not worried.” He says. “I know you’ll be two peas in a pod.” He’s fully confident his mom will love you and be more than happy to accept you into her tight knit little family, whether or not you and Will work out.

“One can hope.” Obviously you’re not as certain as he is, but then, you have more cause to be nervous. From the Blue Room to the small dining room is only a few steps, and the door is already swung open to allow your entrance before you’ve even crossed the threshold of the hallway. There is a woman sitting just inside, slightly plump from middling age but with bright white and blonde hair and a newspaper open at her place at the table while a footman pours wine into the glass at her place setting. This must be her, for who else could it be?

“Hey ma!” He greets her as she stands, giving her a quick hug and a kiss to the top of her head. “Benny should be on his way tonight – we just talked and he’s pissed about his fried chicken.” Will chuckles then steps away from his mom to pull out your chair.

“He’ll live.” Sandy rolls her eyes affectionately over her youngest son, but keeps her attention on the older. And on you, but proxy. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” She observes, though it’s more curious than accusatory.

Will smiles and introduces you. “Her family signed a contract when she was a kid to marry Frederick, but now that’s not happening…but the contract is still good for me, should I choose, so we will probably be getting married here soon…” He then goes on to tell his mom about how helpful and kind you’ve been since you met mere hours ago, and Sandy can’t help but see the fond twinkle in her son’s eye. She hadn’t seen that look since…well, it doesn’t matter now. She can see it in your eye too as you listen to Will talk about his morning with you.

“You may remember my parents from your earlier time in Freidlyn.” Right now there is not much common ground for you and Sandy Miller, but you are determined to find some. If only for Will’s sake. “My father, Thomas, had just become Duke of Rochegnac at that time. And my mother was Lady Karina Doret before they married.” Sandy rolls back through the old lists of names she used to know, eventually landing on Rochegnac as one of the sunnier parts of the country - known for orchards and liquor production, if she’s remembering right. And Lady Karina does ring a bell, but it takes a moment before she nods. “I do remember them. I believe your mother is an avid painter? I had the good fortune to see a few of her works at the time.”

Will is hopeful that this conversation continues to go well. His mother is a kind person and he’s never heard her mutter one negative word about anyone, maybe some choice words for him and Benny when they didn’t clean up after themselves as kids, but honestly, they deserved it. “Your mom’s a painter?” He asks you. “That’s great! Mom loves pottery! Don’t you, ma? Maybe the two of you can get together and make some nice pieces one of these days.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“I’m sure she would love to.” You promise the older woman, not wanting her to be self-conscious about anything that can be avoided. “Perhaps I’ll join you myself, if we can find the right time. My mother’s talent far outstripes my own, but I do enjoy painting to relax.”

Will nods, not daring to miss a word you say to him. "So, you've been telling me so much about what I need to know about myself, but I don't really know too much about you. What's your story, plum?"

“Oh…well,” you chew on the question, mercifully given another moment to think when a footman appears beside you to lay your luncheon plate in front of you. “I was born at Château Rogue in Yeuxbourg, came out when I was sixteen although that did not matter to finding me a match because of the betrothal.” Your eyes flicker between the young king and his mother. “My siblings and I were all educated here and in England.” Without knowing what interests him most, you aren’t really sure what details to give.

He places his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm with a far off, dreamy look in his eye. He knows it’s probably frowned upon to have his elbows on the table here, much like he was told when he was small, but at this moment he can’t find a second to care about that. This improper balance is what’s keeping him grounded, keeping him from getting lost in your eyes as you speak of your up bringing. “Do you ever miss it?” He wonders, thinking of how he can manage trips home for you if you’re ever homesick.

“Yeuxbourg?” You shake your head slightly, trying not to smirk at the deliberate way he has his elbow on the table like a defiant child waiting to see if he will be yelled at. “I have worked and lived in the capital for many years, but the country is not so large that I cannot manage a trip to see my parents now and then. And they have a great belief in lavish birthday parties, so I do return several times each year.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad you get to visit.” He noticed the way you tried to hide your smirk at his posture, and immediately straightens up before taking a lengthy sip of the best wine he’s ever had. Not that he had a lot of experience with wine to begin with. He glances over to his mom, who is smiling at the exchange. “Lavish parties though? That sounds like a lot of fun. I’ve been to quite a few parties myself but most of them were in garages with cheap beer, so not so lavish.”

“My parents believe every major life event should be used as a chance to celebrate the greatness of Freidlyn.” Whether that came before or after betrothing their oldest daughter to the future king, you do not know. “My siblings and I enjoy our privileges, but we all work in service of the people and are fully aware that most countries have no place for nobility in the modern age. So what some might think of as a lavish party where all manner of waste is produced, that is not what we do.” In this, at least, you can be immensely proud of the people who raised you. And that is not something everyone can say. “They open the grounds to all of our tenants, and we have carnival games and the best food we can possibly provide. My sister likes to give tours of the ground floor of the château for a few hours on her birthday, and my brother ends up inviting his military friends and they tell stories all day on his birthday. For mine, we will often set up canvasses and paints in the garden and I will act as an artist model with a few friends. We like to wear costumes and make it a bit silly, but the point is to invite all the people who are closest to us as well as though we wish we spent more time with.”

“That sounds incredible. Way better than anything I’ve ever been to.” He thinks of the last “party” he had gone to. It was more of a celebration for their friend Tom who had passed away on the last mission Santi had talked them into, and much more somber for that reason. “I’d love to join the next one if that’s allowed?”

“The next will be in two months’ time.” A warm rush of undeniable affection floods you at the way he lights up with enthusiasm and you smile. “My birthday. So I insist you both be there. And your brother if he is still here.”

“Benny never says no to a party,” His mother says as she picks up another bite of fish with her fork. “And you can absolutely count me in, honey.”

Will smiles at his mom and nods. “I can’t wait! I better start looking at birthday gifts now.” He wonders if there’s someone at the palace that could help with that, since he still has so much to learn about you. Jewelry would be too much too soon, I’m sure…but maybe a brooch? he ponders.

“I’m sure Minna will take care of everything.” Somewhere in the depths of the folders she gave you this morning, there are sure to be questions about flower, jewelry, and clothing preferences amongst everything else. You take a sip of your wine and try not to smile too much at the idea of Will fretting over an appropriate birthday gift for you. “All you need do is arrive.”

“Whatever they’re paying that woman - it’s not enough. She’s a saint and deserves a raise.” Especially after their initial introduction. “So, will my birthdays be like that too? I’d love to have my buddies for celebrations if possible.”

“Your birthday is…more complicated.” While the three of you eat, you can see the shadows moving behind the privacy screen that keeps the servants out of sight during mealtimes. Footmen who have been lurking being pulled away by – you presume – the butler or housekeeper. No doubt they will be scolded for eavesdropping and gossiping. For Will’s sake, you wish they weren’t so curious. He has so much to learn. “The monarch’s birthday is an official holiday that has been celebrated on the same day each year for the past almost four hundred years. You may change how it is celebrated, of course, but there will always be an official appearance of some kind for the monarch and their family, and it is always celebrated on the first of May to ensure good weather.”

An entire holiday? “Holy shit,” Will blurts out. “That’s insane. And cool. And also wow. That’s gonna take some getting used to.” He looks to his mom, for encouragement or support he’s not sure.

“You can do this, Will.” She says as she places a small hand over his. “You’re going to make a great king.”

“Think of it as how America has President’s Day.” Although, if you recall correctly from your visit to his former country around that time of year, the only celebrating was done by furniture and car retailers. “The people like to eat birthday cake after their dinner that night and have a glass of something indulgent to drink. Your father, may he rest in peace, liked to host a dinner party for Freidlych citizens at the tops of their fields. Listen to what suggestions they had to say about how their field could help our nation. And then, of course, cake. There is always a great deal of cake.”

Will nods quickly. “Oh, okay. I think I can manage that. As long as you’re by my side in case it gets overwhelming, I think I can manage.” He blushes, not sure where the sudden nervousness comes from. Here he is – this brick wall of a man intimidated by this incredible woman that has her shit together. Someone more deserving of the crown than he feels he ever could be.

“Try not to let it overwhelm you.” Setting your fork down, you gently reach over and clasp his hand. It is no small show of solidarity, especially in front of his mother, but you feel sure he will not rebuff it. Not after what happened between you in the ballroom. “I will be here every moment, and after it is appropriate to make our announcement – if it is still what you want – we will make sure that I shoulder as many responsibilities as I can to make it equal.” You swallow a sigh and instead nod encouragingly. “I will not let you fail. Not if it is in my power.”

He could kiss you right now, he really could. Instead, he gives you a smile and quietly murmurs his thanks. “I really appreciate that, plum. You’re going to be my rock through this and then some, so I hope you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“I haven’t done much yet.” So far you have given half of a tour and various encouragements, but not much else in your opinion. “This week will be difficult. And your coronation will be stressful but enjoyable.”

“Still, it’s more than people back home would do, so thank you.”

“What does this week entail?” Sandy asks, gently breaking the moment. She is always acutely aware of the fact that eyes and ears are on monarchs at all times. It’s one of the reasons she eventually decided that a role in the monarchy was not for her.

“Tonight, our national television service will broadcast a short documentary of the king’s life. There will be a church service dedicated to the king and Prince Frederick tomorrow.” You explain slowly, giving Will’s hand a squeeze before taking your own back. “You will both be expected to attend, and of course I will be there as well. After which, Mademoiselle Thorn will arrange for the king to visit the hospital staff that treated his father. To thank them for their service. The day after, a few official portrait photographs will be taken.” It will not be a happy occasion, you know that, but it is necessary. Necessary to show that the royal family does not hold any of the hospital staff accountable for the late king’s death. “On Saturday there will be the joint funeral, and a state dinner that night. On Sunday, Parliament will celebrate the announcement of our king and declare your coronation date.”

Will mentally prepares for the next few days, and the emotions he knows he’ll feel. He isn’t sure what the public will expect, or think of him, but he’s determined to do his duties with poise and grace and to honor his father to his best abilities. He’s glad you and his mom will be there by his side, but he can’t help but wish Benny would be too. “Where do you come in though?” He asks, wanting to reach for your hand again. “Like, I understand you’ll be there but when will they announce…this?” He gestures between the two of you.

“Parliament will not be the ones to announce our engagement when the time comes. You will.” Presumably his mother remembers the circus of public appearances well enough, and you offer her a sympathetic smile. “Your spokesman, anyway. And we will ease the stress of that announcement by making sure we are seen in public together beforehand. But…I think sometime in the month before your coronation would be appropriate? We should check when we go to the library later and see if there is precedent. Elsie, the palace librarian, she will know.” And seeing as she is also conveniently your best friend, you can trust that your secret will not leak to the press based on the questions you need to ask of her.

“Oh, okay.” He’s relieved to know that he’ll have more time before another massive changing event. “I wouldn’t mind being the one to announce it. How did dad do it?” He turns to his mom and asks.

“It was a part of the Christmas address that year.” Sandy smiles softly at one of the truly wonderful memories she has of being a part of royalty in any way. “His father – your grandfather William – was a bit of a romantic. When Klaus wanted to propose, his father said that it would be inspiring for the people to have extra good news at the holidays. So Klaus proposed on Christmas Eve, and the nation was told the next day.”

The look on Sandy’s face nearly breaks Will’s heart. There was still a lot of love there, despite what happened between his parents and their relationship. “That’s great, mom.” He smiles at her, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “I definitely want to be the one to tell everyone when the time is right.” He glances back over to you. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll make it exciting.” He knows he’ll have to practice in his mirror – the only public speaking he’s done was generally about the heaviness surrounding PTSD and seeking treatment, but he hopes he can use his skills for brighter, better things. “I’ll run my speeches by you first since you’re more well-spoken than I am.” He smirks.

“Were you planning on hiring me to be your chief speechwriter?” The playful grin you toss back at him comes just before the footmen appear as from nowhere to whisk away your empty plates and lay the course of fruit and cheese that serves as dessert at a typical formal luncheon. It’s nice to see him smile, and you are very willing at this point, to admit that you find the young king very handsome. Much more so than his self-important brother, though that is a bit of guilt that you can grapple with on your own. “We won’t have the luxury of waiting for Christmas to announce, either. I hope you don’t mind warm weather because we’re looking at a spring coronation and maybe a summer wedding.”

“Speech writer? No. Wife? Yes.” He grins. He throws his hands up quickly and scoots back a little to get out of the staff’s way while they clear the dishes and silverware, only to be replaced with dessert. Once the staff has disappeared again, he scoots himself closer to the table. “A summer wedding is fine with me. Is that something that people need to buy tickets for or something? Can I invite people that don’t have anything to do with the kingdom?” He gives you puppy eyes, and Sandy notices and laughs. Will would love nothing more than Benny, Santi, and Frankie at his wedding. That was his plan all along, if he were to ever find someone to spend his life with.

“Tickets? No.” The implication makes you shake your head as you take a sip from your refreshed wine. “The ceremony is televised across the country, and on our national news’s website. But you can invite your friends, if that is what you are asking. I’m sure it would raise even more questions if you did not.”

“Weddings here are fairly tradition heavy. There are a lot of things in the preparation that I need to do, too.” Sandy tells him, not wanting it to seem like something else daunting but wanting him to understand before she offers you a kind smile. “I have my pearls still, from when I married Will’s father. I think it would only be right that they went to you.”

Your eyes light up when Sandy offers the pearls to you, and Will thinks he sees the hint of a tear starting to form. It’s now when he does reach for your hand again and squeezes it tight. “I think that’s a great idea mom. They’re going to look lovely on her.” He’s nervous and honestly excited to marry you, to continue to get to know you and see how the two of you would operate as a team and maybe one day a proper couple. He has no idea what he’s in for wedding and marriage wise, but he’s at the point in his life where he was seriously considering getting serious with someone, and he’s grateful you were chosen.

******

“My word she is thorough!” You laugh at the next section of questions in Mademoiselle Thorn’s extensive questionnaire. You and Will have already been filling these pages out in the sitting room of his suite for nearly an hour and you’re only halfway through. The first few pages were clothing sizes, preferences for travel, and pertinent dislikes – but once you reached the areas of liked items, the survey became rather ludicrous. It’s clear she’ll be studying these pages like gospel later and distributing the information to those who need it, and you fully appreciate her dedication. “An entire page of food and drink questions.” Pen at the ready, you shoot him a grin. “Favourite cake flavour. I have no doubt this will appear as the highlight of the king’s birthday celebration in a few weeks’ time.”

Will blows a raspberry as he looks up at you sitting across from him. Some of these things he had never even considered before. Favorite fabric? Cotton I guess? “Thankfully that’s an easy one – chocolate with cream cheese frosting. What’s yours?” He leans forward, almost pretending he can see any of the answers on your questionnaire.

“Pound cake with lemon curd and berries.” Even saying it out loud nearly makes you salivate, as you carefully write out your own answer in the line provided to you. Considering his answer for a moment, you look up at him quizzically. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had cream cheese frosting before,” you admit, grinning at the shock on his face.

“Never?” He asks, setting his pen down. “I’m surprised. It’s pretty standard where I come from, but then again I’ve never had your favorite. Maybe we can have someone bake mini versions and sample?” He thinks that could be a cute not-really-a-date-but-sort-of date. “What did you put for the next question?” He jokes, feeling like he did in high school when he tried to cheat off his friends during pop quizzes.

“You can request it for whoever you like.” He isn’t used to just waving his hand and have his orders followed, and it’s a refreshing change from what you know had been standard in the palace until now. “The next one is…favourite ice cream.” You practically hum in delight. “Raspberry. Or chocolate. Preferably both together.”

“Not bad, not bad. I’m a cookie dough guy myself or if I’m feeling extra bold – peanut butter cup and a scoop of plain chocolate on the side.” He smiles at you, and it’s contagious. “I take ice cream very seriously. In fact,” he chuckles, “it’s my favorite breakfast during the summer.”

“Your favourite breakfast?” One incredulous eyebrow raises at him and you can’t help but giggle. “Weren’t you a personal trainer before this?”

“I was and ice cream for breakfast is one of my dirtiest secrets.” It’s not, but he’s not ready to tell you about Columbia and isn’t sure if he ever will be. “But summers North Carolina are brutally hot and sometimes my old window unit in the living room would quit working, so I had to do what I had to do.” He laughs. “My house was always hot in the summer months. I’m glad you’ll never have to stay there.” After seeing the impressive and immaculate grounds of the palace he’s almost embarrassed of his very modest and small ranch house back home. It was definitely dated and had always been a bachelor pad. He had purchased it after his contract with the military ended from a vet that never married, always content to party for a few decades.

“Your secret is safe with me.” You promise him, enjoying the way the day has progressed. He is easy to talk to. Charming in an effortless and rugged sort of way. And there is no sense in pretending that you don’t get a little bit of a thrill every time he touches you. “How about this one,” your eyes flick down to the next question listed. “Favourite sandwich. Americans are notorious for their sandwiches; you must have one.”

“Hmmm…” he thinks as he reaches across the table to run his fingers over the delicate ring around your finger. It’s tied in a bow like a promise and he wishes he was in on the secret. “If I’m in Philly it’s a cheesesteak, if I’m at home it’s a classic grilled cheese. But I like to add tomato slices and pesto. My buddy Frankie showed me that and I’ve been hooked ever since. You next…hmm…oh, this is a good one. Favorite late night snack?”

“Popcorn with parmesan cheese.” His calloused fingers are warm against your skin, trailing up and down the length of your hand now and making butterflies erupt in your stomach. “We…we, erm…” You clear your throat, cheeks hot with the embarrassment of letting yourself get flustered so easily. “We should get to the library. Elsie is expecting us.”

“Huh? Oh, right.” He stands up and offers his arm to you. “Lead the way, Plum.” He smiles as you lead him towards the library.

It’s a good distance from where the two of you had been but when you lead him through the doors he has an unreadable expression on his face. Amazement? Wonder? He almost feels like Belle walking into Beast’s library for the first time. He’s so distracted by his surroundings that he doesn’t notice the tiny, dark-haired librarian with big round glasses heading towards the two of you. She nods at you, proper greeting not needed in this space since the two of you had been close for years, but she curtsies to Will. “Hello, sire, it’s an honor to meet you. My name is Elsie.” She smiles.

“Mademoiselle Poincaré is the palace librarian, as well as a historian.” You explain, not quite letting go of his arm but loosening your grip a little in case he wanted to let your hand go. “She has also been my best friend for the last twenty years, so rest assured that anything you say in front of her is safe.”

“Yes,” Elsie smiles before looking back at you. “Erm, do you think we could have a moment to discuss something?” She asks you, hoping break news to you before telling the future king.

“Of course.” She looks concerned, so whatever it is can’t be good.

“I’ll wander.” Will laughs a little, pointing towards the seemingly endless stacks of books that you had passed by to reach the librarian’s office. “Come find me when you’re done? Unless I’ve disappeared behind a trick bookshelf by then.”

Elsie laughs nervously before leading you towards her office in the back. “So, I don’t know how to tell you this in any easier way, but I was reading through some documents today and…you and William will have to get married much sooner than we had anticipated. Like…within a few weeks soon.” She fidgets with the Anubis paperweight she kept on her desk. “I should have looked at documents closer. I’m so sorry. He’s very handsome though so maybe it’s not bad news?”

“What do you mean a few weeks?” The way Elsie’s features paled makes perfect sense now, as you can feel the blood practically drain from your face. “Parliament hasn’t even announced the date of his coronation yet, how can it possibly—” Your face drops when you connect the dots on the two things and you tip forward to let your cheeks crash into your hands. “Do you mean that in order for us to rule together, we have to be married before the coronation?”

“I’m afraid so,” she says nervously. “Historically speaking, most of the royals had been married before they were crowned, and our dearly departed was the only one to break that rule in centuries. After he took the throne Parliament went and made sure it couldn’t be broken anymore. It was so deep in the documents I can’t believe I missed it. The two of you have two weeks to announce your engagement and plan a wedding, otherwise you won’t be able to rule with him. I have heard rumors just this morning that his coronation will be in less than a months’ time with no adjustments for extra time allowed…”

“Two weeks?” You can feel your eyes bulging out of your head as you stare at your friend across her desk. “That’s impossible. I mean completely and utterly impossible. A royal wedding in under a month is…goddamnit, Els, the whole idea is fucked now, isn’t it?” No one in the world has heard you curse besides Elsie and your siblings, but this is definitely a time that calls for it.

“I know!” She places her palms on her cheeks, pushing her glasses higher on her face. “I wish I had seen this sooner! I feel at fault for this. It is bullshit.” Elsie wasn’t much for cursing outside her home, just like you, but this definitely called for it. “Minna doesn’t even know yet, and I have to tell her today. I’m scared for my safety.” She tries to joke. “Do you think William will be upset by this? I know he is not used to this kind of life, being raised in America and serving his country.”

“I don’t know.” Your hand strikes out for one of hers, grasping at comfort. “I barely know the man. He’s kind, and seems terribly sincere, but I have no idea how he will take this. At lunch we were talking like we had whole months to go before even having to announce an engagement, this is…” All the books and papers spread out across her desk make you frown. “You’re not responsible for any of this, darling. I just wonder if there is any precedent we can use to push back against the timing. Something about the minimal length of an engagement or an arbitrary detail of the coronation we can use to push it back even an extra two weeks.

“I’ve looked through everything and I don’t see a way around this. It’s like it was written in stone. Do you want me to break the news to William? I would not want him being upset with you for this.” She offers. “Minna too. I can talk to Minna.”

“I will leave the inimitable Mademoiselle Thorn to you, but that man out there is my responsibility.” Though you do sigh deeply and squeeze her hand for support. “We have a cover story we’ll be using,” you tell her quietly. God forbid anyone should walk by. “He was in New Orleans around the time that we were a few years ago. We’ll say we met there but lost touch, and consider ourselves lucky to be reunited. I’m sorry to have to ask you to lie for me, but you know that an arranged marriage with a monarch who barely knows his country in the twenty-first century will go over like a lead balloon. A small, harmless lie will help him immensely.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Elsie smiles, squeezing your hand back. “Our friends met his friends and we hit it off for a blissful weekend of fun. We can even say I had a brief romance with one of his friends, yeah?” She laughs. “Just to make it more…I don’t know romantic? Like it’s kismet that you’re both here now.”

“You just like American military uniforms.” You tease, pinching her and managing a smile. “Will you email me your sources tonight after you are no doubt walloped by Minna? Poor thing is going to have so much work to do if he still wants to go forward like this.” And you will, too, but you’re trying desperately not to think about it.

“Uniforms, dark eyes and beards. Guilty,” Elsie giggles. “Yes, I already have a folder of files drafted for you. I’m just going to double and triple check to make sure I have everything covered.” She jiggles the mouse to bring her computer back from sleep mode and glances at the e-mail she had already started to put together for you. “I’ll send them over soon. I think I’ll leave you here though and go track down Minna.” She takes a deep breath and straightens her back. “Let me know if you need me to intervene, okay?”

“I’m going to need ice cream and alcohol.” The hug you give her is fierce and crushing, in the face of being scared witless. “Things just keep getting more and more chaotic. Bonne chance, Els.” You sigh before letting her go and stepping out in search of wherever Will had buried himself in the rows upon rows of bookshelves.

“You got it. I’ll stop at the gelato place downtown after work and then we can eat our feelings. Bonne chance à toi.” She returns the hug and makes a quick exit out of the library. Her iPhone gripped tightly in her hand as she types out a text frantically to Minna.

Will peaks his head around a large bookshelf and raises an eyebrow before walking over to you. “I just saw Elsie escape like a bat out of hell. Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Not really, no.” The last thing you want to do right now is deliver more bad news to him, and you swallow another sigh before it can escape you. No time like the present. Time to rip off the bandage. “Elsie’s research turned up something we didn’t anticipate. In order for us to rule together, we would need to be crowned together. And in order to be crowned together…we—Will, we would need to be married first.”

“Okay…that’s no problem.” He’s confused and isn’t sure why that would be considered bad news. “I thought that was the plan?”

“The issue…” You hate that you cannot even keep his gaze, looking down at both of your shoes instead. “Is that Elsie heard Parliament wants you crowned within a month.”

“So…we’d have to get married in a month?” He looks at you, unsure of why you’re suddenly afraid to look at him. In all the time he had known you, which, granted wasn’t long, you had not been shy about direct eye contact.

“Precisely.” When he still does not take his hand away, You glance upward. “We need to find out if Parliament really wants you crowned that quickly. If they do, it’s going to be a mad dash to get everything done in time.”

“I mean…that’s really fast…but…” He pauses and takes a deep breath, taking his free hand and putting it over his mouth – his mouth morphing his face to a bewildered expression. “Fuck, okay. I mean my whole life has been turned upside down in less than forty-eight hours so why not?” He chuckles. If this was a dream, he’s sure he would have woken up by now. “Shit.” He chuckles out of nervousness and maybe frustration. “Her running away makes sense now. Alright, let’s do it. Let’s plan this wedding in less than a month.”

“She ran away because she had to go tell Mademoiselle Thorn.” You huff slightly, not envying your best friend’s talk in the least. But when you look at Will again, he seems staunchly determined. “You know you have an alternative, don’t you?” It’s his decision to make, and although you have grown surprisingly attached of the idea of a shared crown since only this morning when it was suggested - there is just so much good you could do if you were allowed - it is not the only pathway for his future. “You don’t have to share the crown with me, Will. You can rule on your own, and I will still be your consort when you feel the time is right.”

Will takes a moment to think, not taking his eyes off you. “I don’t want to rule without you though. I don’t think I’m capable of doing any of this without you. I just…” He doesn’t want to say he’s attached just yet, even though he is. “I know you’d be great at it, and I’m not going to be the one to take it away from you…”

“I wouldn’t have it at all, without you,” you remind him gently. “Frederick had no intention of sharing anything more than meals with me. The idea of actually having me be more than a walking womb began entirely with you, at breakfast this morning.” And it touches you in a way that you can’t quite express – whether it’s that no one else has ever thought you could do this, or the fact that he’s putting the good of the people before selfishly wanting to be king, or both, or even something else altogether. Whatever the reason is, you reach out softly and touch his arm in reassurance. “If Parliament wants you crowned quickly, then we’ll come up with a proposal for them. Coronations are national holidays and so are royal weddings. Maybe we can convince them to let us do it in one weekend. Have the wedding celebration the day before the coronation. It would be a lot, but it would be a festival weekend for the people, and I think we could manage it.” Even trying to think of the logistics makes your heart pound, but you know you won’t be alone in trying to get it done. You’ll have entire teams, and you’ll have each other. Surely that counts for something?

“You are way more than just a walking womb,” he says as he places a hand on your cheek. “If Miss Thorne hasn’t completely lost her head by now, I say we bring up the festival weekend to her and see what can be done. You can pick any themes or color schemes you want - just tell me where to be and when and I’ll be the goofy looking guy at the altar.” He smiles, rubbing his thumb under your eye.

“It will be Parliament that we sell this idea to, not your assistant. Although I fear the amount of work she’ll be put to if they agree.” The warmth of his hand seems to dip into the very marrow of your bones, melting you a little. “If this is how you want it to happen…I already promised that I would not let you fail. We will stand up and say our vows and hold our crowned heads high.” And you will absolutely not permit yourself to think about being called to his bed until all of it has actually happened…

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Let’s do this, Plum.” He smiles and takes his hand off your face, the absence of your warm skin under his palm affecting him more than he would like to admit. “Should we go see if Elsie needs help?”

“I would not be a very good friend if we did not.” Although the thought of facing his upset assistant does make you more unnerved than you’d like to admit.

It’s not long before the flustered assistant and nervous librarian make their way back to where you and Will are; Minna and Elsie having a hurried conversation in French. “Je n’arrive pas à croire que nous ayons manqué cette information importante. Cele va l’effrayer.” I can’t believe we missed this important piece of information. This is going to scare him off. Miss Thorn says in a hushed tone as she sees the two of you over my a large shelf of books.

“Je sais, je me sens comme un si mauvais ami pour ne pas l’avoir vu plus tôt.” I know, I feel like such a bad friend for not seeing it sooner. Elsie responds.

“Calmer. Calmez-vous, s'il vous plait. C'était son idée.” Calm down. Calm down, please. It was his idea. Thank god for your keen hearing, you can try to head the other two women off at the pass. “English, please, until his Majesty’s French is up to snuff.”

“So, I guess you heard?” Will asks Minna, worried that she’s either going to combust or start crying.

My apologies, your grace.” Miss Thorne says. “I did, and while I’m not thrilled that this information was written deep in the texts, I am glad Elsie found it. I can go to parliament and st—” She begins.

Will raises his hands to stop her. “We’ve kind of talked about it already. We were thinking having the wedding and then the coronation the following day. That way it’s all done at once and the people can have an entire weekend to celebrate.” He looks to you and smiles.

The idea takes her entirely off guard, but now she knows what you meant by, ‘It was his idea.’ “Well, now that we only have a few weeks we should start planning. You,” Minna Thorn points at you. “Need to choose a designer for your gown and you,” now pointing at Will. “Need to meet with the jewelers to find the emerald and settings you’d like to use for her ring.”

“I could help!” Elsie offers. “I know her taste in jewelry – we’ve been sharing pieces for years.” Will nods, accepting Elsie’s offer.

“I suppose I should put some thought into assembling my own staff, and submit my resignation to the Ministry of Education.” Your schedule is about to become exponentially busier at the drop of a hat, and you know you’ll need as much help as your alarmingly-soon-to-be husband will, just in other ways. Your eyes track to Minna’s, already buried in her agenda once more. “Will we have to argue the case to Parliament, or is there someone on the king’s staff better suited to that job?”

“I will take care of it.” Minna assures you. “I will discuss this with them and get the plans set in stone. You two just worry about yourselves and let me handle things.” She says confidently. She’s the most task-oriented and organized person you know, and you know she can handle this. “I will clear my schedule the rest of the day and call an emergency meeting.”

“Do you still have the list of candidates for the king’s assistant?” It’s a lot to do and not much time to do it in, so you can’t waste a single second. “If it’s at all possible, I’d like to review them and hire someone for myself.”

“Yes, right here. Resumes and references attached as well.” She reaches into her simple, yet stylish messenger bag and hands over the sealed manila envelope. “It’s alphabetized and the ones that stood out to me have sticky tabs on them. Elsie, I trust you’ll continue looking over documents to make sure we haven’t missed anything else?”

“Yes, of course.” Elsie nods, stepping around everyone and sitting back down at her desk.

“Excellent. Then I’m off to have a conversation with parliament.” Minna says as she smiles at the three of you and turns to walk out of the library.

“I’d say we all have our work cut out for us.” Looking around, you can see the lost expression on Will’s face clear as day. “Mademoiselle Thorn, if I might add one more thing to your plate?” You know she has a lot to deal with, but hopefully this is something she can delegate. “I’m sure the king would feel more comfortable with a few more familiar faces nearby. Can we arrange to have his closest friends put on the same flight as his brother?” One of your smaller hands finds Will’s beside you and you give him an encouraging smile as you gently grasp his hand. “You should call them. Get them out here for as long as they can stand it. You will feel less alone, and they should see how your life has changed.”

Minna makes a note in her phone. “I will have them fly in on the private plane with Benny. Just let me know when they are available and I’ll send the pilot.” She smiles and nods, happy that he will have a bit of comfort during this strange time of transition for him.

“That’s a good idea, Plum. I guess I’ll call them now so they can pack?”

“Do you remember the way back to your office?” He’s only walked these halls with an escort so far, so you’re trying your best to be helpful. “If not, I can walk you back. The Morning Room…which I suppose will be my own office soon enough…isn’t that far away.”

“I could use just one more reminder.” He offers his arm again, smiling as you loop yours through his. “Just for the sake of it.” He winks.

“Do you want me to stay with you while you call?” He had insisted you be there while he spoke to his brother, so the least you can do is offer.

“If you don’t mind overhearing how crude they’ll probably be.” He laughs. “I’ll make sure they’re on their best behavior while they’re here though.”

******

The two of you make it back to his office and he sits down on the couch, pulling the phone out of his pocket and dialing Catfish first. Frankie answers on the third ring. “Frank Morales.” Will says

“Ironhead!” Frankie’s surprise and relief are audible on the other end of the phone. “What the fuck man, you call Benny but you can’t call me and Pope? I showed up at your house the morning to help you clean up your goddamn yard as promised and you were just gone!”

“I’m sorry, Fish. Everything just kind of happened…you know? I’m sure Benny told you what’s been going on even thought I told him I would call you myeslf. Um. The reason I’m calling is to invite you here to Freidlyn. I’m…getting married and crowned within a month and I need you here.”

“You’re fucking what??” Asks the man in the other end of the call and you have to cover your mouth quickly to stifle your own laughter. It is a lot to take in. You’ll give him that.

“Yep. Getting married before the coronation so she can take the throne with me. What do you say though? Can you make it out? We’ll send a plane for you, Ben and Pope. It won’t cost you anything and you can stay as long as you’d like.” He doesn’t mention that he knows Fish will think that your librarian friend is cute, and maybe they could get lost in each other for a while. “I think you’d really like it here, Fish. What do you say?” He desperately wants Frankie to say yes, and he’ll beg his friend if he has to.

“Man…you know I would do anything for you.” The sigh from the other man does not sound enthusiastic though, and you lean closer to the speaker to listen. “It’s not like I have work to call out of or anything, it’s just…what about Xi? I can’t ask my mom to look after my bebita so I can go on an indefinite vacation. She would have to come along.” Frankie had had it the worst, coming back from Colombia to find divorce papers from his wife and his mother looking after his six-month-old daughter Xiomara.

“The palace has twenty-four-hour daycare.” You jump in, knowing it is impossible for Will to know the answer to this question. “Any moment you cannot be with her, she will be looked after by professionals. Please…please do not let that stop you.”

“Bring Xi and she’ll be well cared for when you’re not able to watch her. It can be a nice little escape for the two of you, I promise. Everyone here is so nice, and you won’t have to pay for a thing. You and bebita will be well taken care of.”

There is a moment of silence hanging in the air before the man on the phone clears his throat. “Is that her?” He asks, knowing Will had had a woman with him when he called Benny earlier in the day.

“It is…she’s amazing. I think you’ll get along really well.” Will glances over at you and smiles. “She’s been so helpful and supportive, and I’m actually excited about all of this now.”

“I’m sorry to have blurted that out and startled you,” you nearly reach out to the phone as though the man himself were there for you to touch. “It’s just…I truly believe Will should have his friends with him for everything that’s coming. It’s a lonely thing, to change your life all at once.”

“I appreciate you saying that, honey.” Frankie tells you honestly. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Just let me know where to be and when and Xi and I will be there.” Frankie was all too familiar with his life changing drastically at once. He had gone through so much over the last year and was ready for a break.

“Thanks, Fish. I’ll text you the details as soon as I get them from Miss Thorn.” The boys continue to chat for a minute before hanging up. “Onto Santi then…” He smiles as he scrolls through his list of recent calls. Santi nearly answers right away. “Pope!”

“William the fucking Conqueror.” Pope’s laugh is jovial and loud. “I was wondering when you’d get around to calling. Benny got in touch this morning.”

“Hey man. More news for ya – I’m getting married and then will officially be king in a few weeks. You down for a visit? Private plane, full amenities, and you can stay as long as you’d like…” Unlike Frankie, Pope had a full-time job and he wasn’t sure if his friend would be able to make it on such short notice.

“Depends, pendejo. Do I get to stay at the palace?” Pope is not taking a single shred of this bullshit seriously. Not when the pranks pulled by the Miller brothers are always so fucking legendary. “And I’ll need first dibs on hot bridesmaids.”

Will laughs. “You can stay at the palace, but I can’t promise bridesmaids.” He makes a face at you as a way of apologizing for his friend. You giggle at how cute it is. “Fish already said he’d come, and you know Benny is too so…make up your mind and I’ll give you flight details.”

“What’s the punchline, Miller? I show up at the airport and Fish has a remote-control helicopter in the parking lot?” He huffs and his shrug is practically audible. “You can do better than that.”

“Do you play a lot of pranks or are your friends just naturally suspicious?” You whisper, raising an eyebrow at the man next to you.

“I promise this isn’t a prank, Pope. I’ll turn on my fuckin’ camera right now so you can see I’m not kidding. I wouldn’t joke about this.” He places his hand over the microphone. “We play a lot of pranks on each other, so I don’t blame him for not believing this is actually happening.” He sighs, pressing the FaceTime option on his phone and waits for Santi to accept. “See?” He moves the phone around the grand office before standing up and going over to the window to show Santi the grounds to the best of his ability. “I’m not bullshitting you, man.”

“Puta madre…” Pope – like the good Catholic boy his call sign implies he is – is practically crossing himself as various curses fall from his lips. “Madre de Dios, Ironhead, what the fu—” he huffs out a long sigh. “Just tell me where and when, man. I’ll make it work.”

Minna barges through the door at that very moment – an eerie talent she seemed to have – and hands you a slip of paper with flight details for the following day. She says nothing and walks out with purpose, on her way to talk to parliament about the upcoming plans.

“I know.” He says before glancing at the note in your hand. “Looks like you’ll fly out tomorrow morning. It’s a long flight, so you’ll be able to get some rest, and the plane is comfortable. If you need to work, I’m sure we can set up a space for you in your room for meetings and whatever else. Pack your Sunday best and make sure Fish doesn’t panic flying with his baby, please.”

“First time on a plane cooped up with her favourite tíos?” Pope coos, his absolute adoration for his goddaughter obvious instantly. “We’ll wear her out and she’ll nap over the ocean. Everything will be fine. Text me if you need us to pick up anything from your house, okay hermano?”

“Thanks man, I really appreciate you being able to come. I’ll send the exact details here in a second to the group chat. I’m really looking forward to seeing everyone.” Will and Pope say their goodbyes before hanging up. “So, that’s the guys.” He laughs nervously as he looks at you. “They’re…a lot but they’re good people and I’ll make sure they’re on their best behavior.”

“They sound far more interesting than most of the people I know,” you offer, placing a hand on his arm reassuringly before turning and cracking open the file with resumes for royal assistants that Minna had given you. “I’ll make sure that their rooms are close together, and that there is hot food ready for them when they arrive tomorrow night. What time are they supposed to arrive? Maybe we can ask the kitchen to hold our dinner so everyone can sit down together.” It’s a small gesture, technically, but in meaning it’s large. “I know they’ll want to interview me, so to speak. And I don’t blame them one bit.”

“That would be great. Knowing them they’ll be starving and have a million questions.” He looks down at the flight itinerary. “Looks like they get in around 6PM so you’ll have time to prepare for the chaos that is them. I think you’ll like Xi too, she’s the cutest baby in the world and what happened with Frankie’s ex is so shitty. She just…left. I’m glad they’ll all be close together, just in case he needs help with anything, you know?” He rambles, nervous about his friends meeting his betrothed. He knows they’ll adore you, but he also worries you won’t feel the same about them.

“We’ll make sure that your friends and your brother have everything they need,” you promise him, knowing that their first impressions of his new home will also be their first impressions of you as well. This is not a moment to lay down on the job.

“You really are the best, Plum. Thank you.” Will takes your hand and squeezes it. “They’re going to absolutely fall in love with you.”

The smile that you summon is honest, and you’ll squeeze his hand back for encouragement. How can you possibly tell him that the only person you’re worried about falling for you is him?

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

NA: @absurdthirst @peachtreemoonshine @xoxabs88xox @luminescentlily @babypink224221

My Masterlist!

#Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam fanfic #Will Miller #Will Miller x reader #Will Miller x you #Will Miller x female reader #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier fanfic #Princess Diaries au #Royalty au #William Ironhead Miller #Freidlych for Life #Freidlyn #arranged marriage

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cyantomatos · 2 years

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Wheel of Writing - Day 4

Prompt: “Move an inch and you won’t be coming tonight.” Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader Notes: One of the few smut prompts for this month, unfortunately kinda short

“Will, baby, please.” The words came out as a whine, your eyes screwed shut as you tried to find some sort of inner peace. Your husband sat between your legs with a smug grin, hands gripped tight on your hips.

“Remember what I said, sweetheart. You move an inch and you won’t be coming tonight.” Your muscles ache from the strain you’ve put on them to keep from squirming for the last hour, so you’re not sure how he thinks you’ve forgotten.

“Please, please, I can’t take much more.” Will lowers his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh and it’s all you can do not to squirm. Instead you grip the silk scarves he used to bind your wrists to the bed, panting heavily.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

For a second you consider disobeying, knowing exactly what the sight of him between your legs is going to do to you, but after a moment you blink your eyes open. Your vision is blurry for a second, both from how hard you’ve been clenching your eyes shut and from unshed tears of frustration. When you finally get your eyes to focus you look down, clamping your mouth shut to cut off the whine that immediately threatens to escape.

He looks just as smug as he sounded with your legs thrown over his shoulders. As you watch he lowers his head again, and you can feel his breath ghosting over you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You look so pretty like this baby, I wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You let out a huff, pouting down at him. “Don’t you dare.”

Will chuckles, and again you have to stifle a whimper. “Alright, alright. I know when not to push my luck.”

He lowers his head further, lips just barely brushing over where you want him as he speaks, “Come for me, sweetheart.”

#WoW #Wheel of Writing #Will Miller #will miller x f!reader #Will Miller x female reader

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 month

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Whatever My Wife Wants

Summary: On your honeymoon, Javi decides to break out a new accessory you've never seen him wear before. Little does he know, that seeing him wear a chain for the first time is about to drive you wild.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also its your honeymoon so who am I to say), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, literally the biggest, fattest, ugliest breeding kink (I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not), marriage kink (?) creampie, cum play, kind of exhibitionism (like if you SQUINT), talks of starting a family, Javi LOVES his wife, Javi in a CHAIN, Javi on his honeymoon deserves its own warning, did I mention that Javi LOVES his wife?!

A/N: shoutout to my sweet @honeyedmiller for this request after reblogging this MASTERPIECE from @enstatia. It's supposed to be a painting of Din, but it gave me such big Javi vibes, and I really haven't been the same since picturing the one and only Javier Peña in a chain (bc If i can't unsee it, you shouldn't be allowed to either) 😵‍💫 Also shoutout to Lucien Flores for singlehandedly ruining my life today with that new clip from the Uninvited (but also you can't tell me that this outfit is so Javi on the beach coded PHEW)

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

Javi had never been one for jewelry- well, that was until a few days ago when a new golden wedding band had made a home on his hand. Since you had slipped it on his finger, Javi couldn’t get enough of watching it glisten in the warm, tropical sunlight on your honeymoon, a reminder that filled his heart to the brim to know that he was yours forever.

Javi’s new wedding ring was the only jewelry that he had ever pictured himself wearing, until you had mentioned to him in passing while shopping for new clothes for your honeymoon how good he’d look with a chain to go with any of his outfits he had planned for the trip- considering there was no way Javi was going to have no less than 4 buttons undone on his shirt at any given time while basking in the tropical warmth of your honeymoon paradise.

Later on that week, he had dug around in his dresser to find a thin, golden chain necklace he had back from his time in college, that hadn’t seen the light of day in too many years to count. But, given your enthusiasm for the idea of him wearing something like it, Javi had decided to pack it with him in his suitcase to surprise when the time felt right.

Well, after being a few drinks deep at the pool bar from earlier, Javi’s slightly tipsy confidence had him feeling like now was the perfect time to try out his new accessory to see what you thought. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out out the chain to go with the rest of his outfit for your dinner on the beach, clipping the necklace around his neck as he looked himself over in the mirror, quickly fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt, undoing one more button than probably necessary to show off his new look.

And while he could admit that he didn’t look half bad with it on, and figured you’d like the new surprise addition to his wardrobe, there’d be no way in hell he could have ever prepared himself for the viscerally awestruck reaction you’d have to the thin, gold chain dangling around his neck.

“I can practically feel you burning a hole through my chest, Hermosa.” Javi chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you as he took another bite of his food, giving you a playful smirk at the way you had been ogling at him ever since you had noticed the thin gold chain resting across his tanned skin as you began your walk through the hotel to head to dinner.

“Oh shut up, it’s not my fault you’re so hot. You’re making it very hard not to look, in my defense.” You sighed, trying to get yourself to focus on your food instead of staring at Javi for the rest of dinner, despite the fact that the only meal you had your eyes on was sitting across the table from you. “There’s already something about you being my husband that makes you somehow even hotter than you already were, and now with this?” You picked up your fork, gesturing to the chain dangling between the parted fabric of Javi’s shirt, “I think you may be trying to legitimately kill me.”

“Figured you’d like it. Didn’t think you’d like it this much.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip before taking another bite of food, his cheeks growing flushed and warm as he looked at you admiring him, wondering how in the hell he had gotten so goddamn lucky. “Thanks, Mrs. Peña.” He laughed, taking another bite of his food, shooting you a quick wink.

Mrs. Peña.

God, if that alone wasn’t enough to send you over the edge already, your new last name, combined with the incredibly attractive man you had gotten it from that you now got to call your husband? On top of that stupidly hot chain he had decided to throw on with his outfit? There was definitely something else you were hungry for other than the half cleared plate below you.

It was then that you couldn’t have been happier you had been seated at a table on the edge of the beachside boardwalk, tucked behind a few stray palm trees, secluded enough out of view that you had no problem reaching under the table to rest your hand on Javi’s knee, toying with the hem of his shorts before letting your fingers creep further and further up his thigh.

“Are you almost done with your food?” You asked, your voice sweet and sultry as your hand brushing against Javi’s crotch immediately caught his attention, making his eyes go wide as he sat up straight, setting down his knife and fork to look down in his lap. “Because if you are, I can think of something else I want for dessert when we go back to our room. Something I want really bad. You wanna feel how badly I want it?”

Javi swallowed hard as your fingers wrapped more firmly around his bulge, gently massaging his dick in your grasp, before grabbing his hand and guiding it to brush along the slit of your sundress and closer to your core, aching and dripping with arousal. Letting his fingers creep up the inside of your thighs and ghost over your folds, his eyes went even wider, jaw practically dropping open to feel that you were not only absolutely soaked, but also not wearing any underwear at all. Using every ounce of composure he had to keep from falling apart right then and there at the dinner table, letting out a deep sigh as he cursed under his breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck, baby… Yeah, I can be done right now.” He groaned, nodding at your proposition before wrapping his hand around the meat of your thigh as he took a long inhale, staring you down with darkening eyes and a devilish grin across the table.

Never had you been more thankful that the resort you had picked to stay at was all inclusive, because if either of you had to wait a minute longer for a server to get your bill so you could get back up to your room, the probability of impending implosion would have been practically inevitable.

Firmly intertwining your fingers with his as you grabbed his hand, you were nearly dragging Javi through the hotel to the nearest bay of elevators, pleasantly shocked to find no one else waiting with you to travel up to their room, leaving the two of you alone to catch the next elevator back up to your floor.

Without a word, the second the elevator doors had closed, the two of you were on top of each other, a messy dance of tongue and teeth crashing together, Javi’s hands palming the meat of your ass over your dress while yours roamed over his chest, tracing the freckles of his tanned skin up to the golden chain dangling in the open buttons of his shirt, stopping to wrap the necklace around your finger, tugging Javi closer to you.

“Fuck, you look so good with this on, baby.” You moaned, your words hot against Javi’s skin as you nipped at his neck, chain still tangled in your grasp. “I can’t wait to fu-”

Barely aware of the fact that you had reached your floor, the ding of the elevator was enough to catch your attention and cut you off from completing the rest of your thought before the doors slid open, revealing a group of couples waiting for their ride down to the lobby. Frantically trying to play off the fact that if the elevator ride had gone any longer, you two definitely would have been seconds away from fucking in it, you gulped, giving Javi a nudge to his ribs to bring him back to reality, the two of you quickly trying to slide past the other guests without making a scene.

As the door closed behind you, you and Javi couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that you couldn’t seem to take an elevator trip alone without almost being caught making out like a pair of horny teenagers (which, to be fair, a pair of horny teenagers probably would have had more self control than the two of you being newlyweds on your honeymoon).

With your room only being a few doors down from the elevator, Javi began fumbling in the pocket of his shorts for his room key, working around the full hard on he already had under the fabric from how pent up he was. Quietly cursing under his breath until he found it, as soon as the card was swiping over the lock of the door, Javi was yanking you through into your room, instantly beginning to pull down the zipper to the back of your dress as you fumbled your way back to the bed.

Your dress fell to the floor in a crumpled pile before Javi was tossing you onto the mattress, shocked to see that you also hadn’t even bothered to put on a bra, revealing your glowing skin and obnoxious tanlines from your time spent out in the sun.

“Dirty fucking girl, not wearing anything underneath that dress for me. Fuck me, Hermosa. God, you’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect. My perfect wife.” Javi growled, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed to part your legs, draping them over his shoulders as he admired the wet mess between your thighs, your slick already coating your folds, glistening in the dim light of your hotel room. “My perfect wife and her perfect fucking pussy already so wet for me.

Dragging his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal as he ghosted over your throbbing clit, you let out a soft whimper in protest, sitting up on your elbows to look down at Javi, peppering kisses along the soft skin of your thighs.

“Javi, fuck- Baby, I wanted to go down on you. You look so good, I-I wanna taste you, Jav, p-please.” You moaned, your argument becoming less and less convincing as his kisses traveled to your center, nose brushing against your aching bundle of nerves before looking up at you with a lustful smirk, tightening his grip around your hips to hold you in place.

Javi shook his head as he laughed quietly to himself, watching you squirm and buck your hips towards his face, so desperately worked up and aching that the mess between your legs was really beginning to contradict your need to get Javi off before yourself.

“Cariño…” Javi tutted, almost mockingly, digging his fingertips deeper into the meat of your flesh, “You’re not going anywhere ‘till I get a taste. I can’t leave my poor wife all worked up like this, can I?”

Before you had a chance to respond, the flat of Javi’s tongue was dragging through your heat in a long, broad stroke, firmly pressing against your clit, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as you threw your head back in pleasure, a soft whimper escaping from your parted lips. As the last of his lick slid through your folds, you shuttered at the feeling of the metal of his chain ghosting over your cunt as it dangled from his neck, only to cry out as you could feel the other piece of jewelry he was wearing on his left ring finger sink deep into your entrance.

“Oh f-fuck-” You whimpered as another finger breached your tight hole, already sucking him in with your warm, wet walls while his digits curled, bumping against the sweet spot inside you that he knew made you crumble.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt before diving back between your legs like a man starved, his tongue dancing in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you, even more so now with the wedding band that had made its permanent home on his finger, taking every chance he could get to watch you cover the glistening gold ring in your arousal as yet another way to prove that you were his.

Javi could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his fingers as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets of the bed, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, tingling building at the base of your spine. Latching his lips around your clit, he began to suck at your sensitive nub, his hand thrusting faster and deeper into your cunt, feeling you slowly coming undone under his touch.

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Javi, I’m so close baby, oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaaahhhhhh-” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high, feeling the smirk of Javi’s smile pressed against your cunt as you soaked his face, his free hand wrapped around your hip, holding you in place for him.

“Fuck, I swear, I’ll never fucking get over that.” Javi mewled, pulling back enough to sit on his heels, admiring the wet and puffy mess your pussy had become, gently pulling his fingers out of your heat, looking down at the way your arousal coated his fingers, covering his wedding band. “Fucking soaked me, Hermosa. You like feeling my ring when I touch you like that, baby? Knowing I’m all yours forever?”

With your chest heaving in heavy breaths, you nodded frantically, blissed out look plastered across your face as you stared up at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he brought his soaked fingers to your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip as, opening your mouth for you to suck him clean, the warm and tangy taste of you still fresh on his skin.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. Mi esposa sabes muy dulce.” (My wife tastes so sweet) Javi cooed, gently tugging his fingers out of your mouth, standing up to lean over the bed, caging your body under his as his lips crashed against yours in a needy mess of longing and desperation.

You could feel how painfully hard he was through the fabric of his shorts, his bulge straining against the seams of his zipper as he rubbed against your thigh, laying on top of you with one arm propped up beside your head, the other gently cupping your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek as he kissed you with the tender intensity that set your insides ablaze with desire, longing, no, needing to feel him buried deep inside you as you screamed his name.

It really had been your intention to suck Javi off the moment you had gotten back to your room, to drop to your knees and worship the beautifully handsome man you now got to call your husband and turn him into the same type of moaning, whimpering mess that he had just made you, but with the ferocity of each kiss and the instinctual jerk of Javi’s hips, there was nothing you wanted more than to be filled by the sweet sting of his cock pounding into you, over and over.

“J-Javi, fuck- I need to feel you baby, please. Fuck, I wanna feel you so deep inside me.” You whispered, your teeth tugging at Javi’s earlobe as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses, feeling the audible groan in his chest at your request, followed by a deep sigh as he tried to compose himself from the mess he was already becoming.

“Yeah? That’s what you want, sweet girl? Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.” He rasped, a devilish grin spread between his cheeks as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, followed by his shorts and boxers, leaving him in nothing but the gold chain still dangling around his neck as he reached down to stroke his cock, red and dripping with precum before leaning back down to line up with your entrance.

You could feel your breath hitch as his tip brushed through your folds, rubbing gently against your clit as he collected your arousal to coat his length, looking down to watch as his length sunk deep into your cunt, the both of you letting out ragged moans at the sensation.

Javi paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch as he filled you, his tip kissing your cervix while his hips met yours. The fullness made your brain go blank, completely at a loss for words as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, pulling himself out enough to sink his whole length back into your cunt, each thrust making you whimper and moan, desperate for more.

“F-fuck, give me more, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your hand wrapping around his bicep, fingertips digging into his flexing muscles.

“Yeah? You want more, Hermosa?” Javi mewled, smirking to himself at the blissed out mess you were already becoming as the pace of his hips rutting into you began to quicken.

As each thrust became faster, the gold chain draped around his neck began to bounce against his chest, his body close enough to yours to feel the cool metal brush against your face with each snap of his hips into yours, the sight of his necklace dangling over you as you stared up at the furrowed and focused look painting his face. The image alone of him wearing that chain was enough to make you feel like you were going to cum on the spot, but as you lay caged beneath the weight of his broad body, feeling nothing but his warm skin and chain rub against you, you were nearly convinced it was going to be over for you right then and there.

Without even thinking, you lifted your head up off the bed just enough to grab the chain between your teeth, tugging him closer to you, the sudden yank making his eyes go wide in surprise as the two of you came nose to nose, foreheads brushing against each other before his lips were on yours again, entangling you in an all consuming kiss without faltering in his pace.

“Fuck, you look so good.” You moaned, your lips parting just enough from his to whisper your praises into his ear. “You look so hot with this fucking chain, Jesus Christ.”

Your comment had a low, breathy laugh escaping from his chest, shaking his head to himself almost in disbelief at how enthralled you were with him.

“Me? Baby girl, you have no idea.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts to sit back on his haunches, readjusting you to bring your knees pressed to your chest, leaning back down, running his hands along your body, up your arms until he had them above your head, pinned down to the bed in his grasp. “You know how many guys I’ve seen staring at you since we’ve been here? How many dirty fucking looks I’ve had to give them? Maybe this ring on your finger isn’t enough, mi amor.”

“W-what do you, fuck- what do mean?” You whimpered, the new position opening you up in a way that had you feeling every inch of Javi as he sank his cock even deeper into your cunt, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible, your brain barely working enough to let your words escape from your mouth.

“I mean,” Javi groaned, tightening his grip to hold you in place, his eyes growing darker with desire with another deep, long thrust into your heat, “That maybe, I need to fuck a baby into, Osita. Fuck a baby into my beautiful fucking wife, and let everyone see that you’re mine with our kid growing inside you.”

Javi’s words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought alone making you whimper- You and Javi both had undeniable cases of baby fever, and now that you were finally married and had agreed that your birth control wasn’t going to be a part of your packing list, the prospect that in 9 months from now, you could have a third member to your family? That was enough to have you close to finishing right then and there.

A gulp traveling down your throat before a long exhale, trying to find the words to respond to his proposition, your voice trembling in an anxious excitement.

“F-fuck- Oh my god, yes. Fuck a baby into me, Javi. Let me, oh shit- let me make you a daddy.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth, trying his best to maintain his own composure, taking a long exhale before his gaze met yours again, a fierce kind of determination and promise pooling in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes, leaning his body on top of yours, pushing your knees closer to your chest, opening you up to an even deeper angle as his mouth crashed into yours, beginning to pick up his pace once again as his hips snapped into yours. “That’s what you want, Hermosa? Fuck, I’ll give it to you, baby. Oh shit- Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets, remember? You want a baby? Fuck- I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you I’ll fuck a baby into you right now.”

You could feel the all too familiar tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine once again, Javi’s cock pounding perfectly into your g-spot over and over again, the hairs at the base of his length grinding against your throbbing clit, sending you to the brink of collapse with each thrust in and out of your cunt.

“Yes, oh my god- yes, I w-want it so bad. P-please, baby, fuck.” You whined, starting to stumble over your words as you could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his cock, the coil in your core tightening to the point of nearly snapping.

“Fuck- say it again. Tell me- mierda- tell me how badly you want it.” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming slopier and more desperate as he could feel himself on the verge of chasing his own high, knowing all too well you were almost hitting yours.

“I want you to fill me up, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- I want it so bad. I want you to knock me up and give me a baby, please, baby, oh my god- please.” You were all but panting at this point, your legs starting to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, the overwhelming sensation of his fullness, promise of pregnancy, and that damn chain dangling in your face was enough to finally send you over the edge. “Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I’m so close baby, I’m gonna, oh shit- I’m gonna cu-ahhhhhhh.”

Those were the last words you were able to muster before you were screaming out Javi’s name as you came, euphoria and ecstasy radiating through every inch of your body, your orgasm crashing through you with so much intensity you could have sworn you were seeing stars.

Watching you fall apart beneath him, soaking his cock in your arousal as you came had Javi only moments behind you, the rhythm of his hips beginning to stutter, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each others combined with your wanton moans and whimpers and curses under your breath making him begin to babble incoherently.

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. Fucking soak my cock, baby. Cum all over me before I, fuck me- fuck myself so deep in you it’ll fucking take. Holy fuck- Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Gonna fucking fill you up. Give you all of me. Fuck, I’ll give you everyting, baby, mierda- everything you’ll ever wa-ahhhhhh”

With one last final thrust, Javi was spilling deep inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls, milking himself of every single last drop before collapsing on top of you, the warmth and weight and of his body sinking on top of your chest as the two you sighed in sync, trying to catch your breath with long, labored huffs.

As Javi felt himself begin to soften, a groan rumbled low in his chest while he pulled out, feeling the mix of your spend dripping out your hole, coating the inside of your thighs in glistening juices. You let out an involuntary whimper at the loss of fullness inside you, your head falling back on the mattress in blissed out satisfaction, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to reality after floating away in post-colotial bliss.

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, lifting your head back up to see Javi sitting back on his heels, admiring the mess of the two of you pooling between your legs.

“So fucking pretty, Hermosa.” He mewled, peppering kisses down the soft skin of your thighs, making his way back towards your core. Before you could even realize what was happening, Javi’s head was back between your legs, one broad stroke of his tongue collecting the tangy, salty mixture leaking out of your cunt and lapping it back into your entrance quickly replacing his mouth with his fingers to push the mixture of your spend even further into you.

Looking up at you, slick covering his mustache and smug grin spread between his cheeks, Javi curled his fingers just enough to make you yelp as he pressed against your g-spot, considering how worked up and overstimulated you already were.

“Gotta make sure I keep you full of me, baby. Can’t let anything go to waste.” Javi smirked, gently pulling out his fingers, resting his hands on your thighs, drawing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs.

You tried to sit back up, propping yourself on your elbows before Javi’s body was caging over you once again, slowly lowering himself down until your back was flat against the bed, cradling your jaw as guided you down with soft, slow kisses, feeling his chain brush against your chin he pulled away from your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere, Momma. My wife wants a baby? Then I’m doing everything I can to give her one. Whatever she wants.” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead as his hand caressed your face, brushing your skin just gently enough to tickle you, a little giggle escaping from your lips as your eyes met his sweet puppy dog ones.

“You’re ridiculous, you menace.” You laughed, playfully nudging Javi as he rolled over next to you on the side of the bed, wrapping his arm around you, tugging you to lay against his bare chest, your hand draping over his stomach before crawling up his chest, wrapping his gold chain around your fingers. “Hmmmm whatever your wife wants, huh?” You smirked, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Whatever she wants, Hermosa.”

“Your wife wants you to never take this damn thing off again.”

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

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navybrat817 · 1 month

Note

Hi Navy! Do you see/picture William or Raymond being nurturers or acting in some kind of nurturing caretaker role as SOs? Do you see that in them?

Hi, nonnie! I see both William and Raymond as dominant men. Calm and controlled until they're pushed. Not opening up and trusting too easily. So taking care of the right partner? Yes. ❤️

With the blood they have on their hands for different reasons, they feel as if they're doing something good and it still gives them a sense of control. They each have their own wants and kinks, but you come first. Always.

Love and thanks. ❤️

#navybrat answers #raymond smith #william miller #will miller #william 'ironhead' miller #raymond smith x female reader #william miller x female reader #will miller x female reader #sweet nonnie #sending love ❤️#asks are always appreciated

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laurfilijames · 5 months

Text

When Sleep Comes Easy

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+ only. Unprotected intercourse. Mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, insomnia, nightmares/night terrors, military service and death.

Summary: Will always has trouble sleeping, but after another sleepless night and an anxiety attack followed by a run to try to ease his mind, he finds another way to expel his frantic energy and finds himself in the midst of a well deserved nap.

A/N: I am such a whore for sleep intimacy and felt the need to write some for Will again. So. What.

---

The last of his deep, slow and deliberate thrusts stilled to nothing more than him pulsing inside you, your bodies drawing out the rippling aftershocks of both of your climaxes, and it was difficult to distinguish which of your thrumming heartbeats was resounding in your ears.

Will leaned down and captured your lips that were now bruised equally from his fervid kisses and rough beard, the long exhale through his nose blowing out on your cheek as he struggled to catch his breath.

You returned his kiss gratefully, hoping to continue to pour all your love for him into it as much as you had in your love-making, your chest feeling tight at the recollection of the tough day he had had so far.

Another nightmare. Another panic attack. Another sleepless night that ticked on painfully slowly into the morning where he couldn't seem to get out the front door fast enough to try to run it off, only to return home in a worse state than when he had left.

There were so many times you felt helpless, unable to give him the reprieve he needed from his own mind, but when he returned home sweaty, angry and seemingly desperate to seek out a way to channel his frantic energy, you knew exactly what it was he needed.

His lips crashing into yours at the same time he forced your back to collide with the wall eventually led to this moment now; tangled and breathless in your bed, your skin coated in a layer of sweat from a ravenous, manic pace that quickly settled into something more emotional and purposeful, his love for you shining through the darkness and the demons that he fought so often.

His forehead rested heavily against yours as he broke the seal of your lips, sighing out a somewhat shaky breath as he began to slip out of you, feeling your combined spend leak out onto the already dampened sheets beneath you.

You reached your hand up between your chests and gently traced along his lower lip, smoothing across its fullness back and forth until he puckered them and kissed the pad of your finger, his fatigue and anguish so present in his blue eyes, the circles around them dark and deep.

The muscles in his arms trembled slightly, his body as exhausted as his mind was, the definition in his forearms and biceps so prominent from his efforts while the veins that wildly coursed through them like a map of rivers bulged as though they would break through his skin.

With a sigh and a wince, he shifted to move off of you and collapsed onto his side of the bed, not changing his position much as he landed on his stomach and let his leaden limbs sink into the mattress, his eyelids falling shut while his arms snaked up under his pillow to support his head.

You expected him to only stay like that for a few minutes at most, knowing that by the time you shuffled to the bathroom to go pee and came back into your room, he would be up and heading to have a shower, but when you returned to see him still splayed out in the mess of blankets and sheets, a faint smile tugged at your lips.

Will rarely napped, usually feeling it was a waste of time and fearing it would affect his already compromised sleep, but it was evident how much he needed to rest, seeing his back moving with his shallow breaths as sleep already took hold of him.

Slipping carefully back into bed, you turned onto your side to face him, not feeling like you could fall asleep as well but happy to simply lay there and admire him.

As his body twitched and his brow furrowed, you hoped he was dreaming of something that didn't plague him, the little sleep he already got afflicted by too many nightmares, and for the millionth time since knowing him, you wished you could take it all away. Even if that was possible, Will would never let you, needing to feel all his burdens and wear them like a badge, never forgetting any of the things he's done; each life he had taken and decision he's made carefully counted and stored in his mind no matter how much time has passed. He had told you once that he believed his insomnia and night terrors were a penalty he deserved and would accept for the rest of his life, feeling like it was hardly punishment enough for some of his sins, your heart breaking all over again when you watched him suffer through another episode just as it had the day he had admitted it.

His cheeks flinched as he clenched his teeth together tightly, his arm jolting under his head, his muscles jerking and fluttering as if they were battling to keep awake while the rest of him fought to sleep.

After a few minutes, his body finally succumbed, quieting the restlessness that made him stir, his features relaxed and no longer tense or strained. Knowing he wouldn't easily wake now, you lightly traced along his hairline that had been made all messy from sex, the blond strands stuck up into spikes that went in every direction darkened from sweat that hadn't yet dried, drawing languid patterns in a trail from his forehead down along his shoulders and through the valleys on his back.

His breathing continued to steady the longer you touched him, your fingertips carefully worshiping every dip and curve of his sculpted back and up over the plump crest of his bum, feeling yourself relax and begin to keep tempo with his composed inhales and exhales.

It was tempting to want to wake him up to tell him you loved him despite having already repeated it over and over while he drove inside you and made you alternate your affirmations with his name like a mantra, but decided against it, vowing to yourself that you would tell him as many times as you could when he opened his eyes again.

Feeling yourself grow tired as the intensity of your love-making finally set in, you brought yourself closer to him, snuggling into his side where you placed a kiss on his shoulder and let your arm rest across his back.

In his slumbering state, Will lifted his arm and wrapped it around your back, scooping you toward him as he draped his leg over top of yours to lock you in place, holding onto you like he feared you suddenly wouldn't be there if he didn't, a low grunt escaping his lips as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

The security of his weight on you was something you always longed for whether it was like this or during the heated moments of passion you often shared, the way he covered most of your body with his a sense of comfort and assurance that couldn't be matched.

You inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of his sweat and sex that hung in the air, his skin holding onto all the remnants of his hardships along with your love that helped to wane them, the warmth of his body convincing you to allow your heavy eyelids to close despite not wanting to give up the opportunity to see how gorgeous he looked when he slept.

As you began to drift off, you prayed for the things that haunted him to grace him some peace for as long as possible, selfishly wanting to stay like this forever, the rarity of Will indulging in rest that wasn't scheduled or forced only to be broken by his pain something you would sacrifice your own for without hesitation.

Without knowing the time, it was clear that hours had passed when you opened your eyes to see your room shrouded in darkness, Will's bare body still draped over yours comfortably. You carded your hand up and down his back soothingly, hearing his breathing change as he slowly woke up, his soft groans rumbling through his chest while his lips began to pepper kisses along the column of your neck.

You smiled, the sensation of his mouth on your sensitive skin as well as his hard cock pressing into your thigh awakening the building need inside you, your slight grin fading as your lips melted against his when he brought his mouth to meet yours.

Will propped himself up slightly, positioning himself overtop of you, slowly guiding his cock inside your tight walls that stretched to fit him with a lingering soreness from earlier.

"Thank you," he whispered in a raspy voice, his nose nudging yours adoringly.

You sighed and returned his act of affection by rubbing your nose against his, knowing the reason why he was thanking you was because you helped him sleep, the ease of it reviving him and leaving him in awe of you. Words seemed to fail you so instead you kissed him slowly, your hips beginning to roll in a tepid motion, his tongue claiming access to your mouth with a firm demand to contrast from the languid actions of your bodies.

"I love you, Will," you eventually murmured when your lips parted briefly.

He smiled, the lines around his mouth that still managed to be visible through his growing beard making your heart swell even more, pausing his movements inside you for a moment.

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him back to you, kissing him like you needed the air from his lungs in order to breathe, his pace increasing to pump in and out of you with vigorous intent.

---

Taglist:

#will miller #will miller smut #will miller x female reader #triple frontier #charlie hunnam #will 'ironhead' miller #will miller x reader #will miller fic #triple frontier fic #charlie hunnam characters #ironhead #william miller #william 'ironhead' miller

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pimosworld · 6 months

Text

Never have I ever

Kinktober Prompt-Voyeurism,Squirting,Polyamory

Pairing -Will Miller x f!reader x Tf boys x f!reader

Summary-You and the boys play a game and things take an interesting turn.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, Voyuerism, Smut, Fluff, Rough sex, Dom Will, mentions of anal, mentions of MM dynamics, restraints, mentions of safe word but no use, established poly relationship, Unprotected PIV, cream pie, squirting, aftercare. Appropriate discussion of past relationships.

WC-4K

A/N- Set in the story of us verse but can be read as a stand alone. Reader is not race coded, no use of Y/N. This is my current WIP procrastination, when lightning strikes you must write. My first kinktober prompt. I just reached 400 followers and this is 4000 words so I’m gonna take this as my follower celebration as well.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

“Ben, are we seriously playing this?” The five of you are situated comfortably in your usual spots in the living room and somehow the younger Miller has convinced you all to ‘make things more interesting’ in his words.

“I’m too old for this.” Frankie mumbles into his beer as he downs the rest.

“We know…that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of it.” You chuckle briefly as Santi’s hand skirts higher up your thigh under the blanket. He’s been slowly torturing you as you relaxed on the couch, all of you decompressing and going over your week. It was a new ritual to discuss the ins and outs of your time apart but it seemed Ben was growing tired of the normal mostly mundane conversation.

“Hands up let’s go.” The impatient Miller barks from his spot on the floor, too big to fit anywhere else and you're always unsure of why Will won’t just get a bigger couch. You suggested a few months ago that it would be nice for all of you to be able to relax together. He agreed but evidently it takes time to find the perfect one.

Everyone reluctantly puts their hands up, Santiago opting for one hand because he can’t pry his other from the warmth of you under the blanket. The other part of you knows he’ll probably lose this game and he doesn’t feel like putting too much effort into revealing how much of a slut he was before he pulled his head out of his ass and finally told you how he felt.

“Both hands, Pope.” Frankie chides from beside you and Santi squeezes your thigh before drawing his hand out and flipping him off.

This game was an odd choice, almost completely out of left field. The five of you knew almost everything there was to know about each other. Although you’re sure the boys know a lot more about their respective sexual escapades than they know about yours. Nothing among these men is ever done by accident, you’re just waiting to see the angle that’s being played so you don’t end up trapped. The confused and amused looks on the others' faces has you a little at ease since it seems this is a solo mission for Ben and those didn’t always go as planned.

“I’ll start since it was my idea.” Will sends you a look from across the room as to say of course and you’re acutely aware that he hasn’t let out one protest or sign of stopping this game. You’re almost positive it’ll come down to you both in the end and he knows it judging by the smug look on his face.

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm.” You roll your eyes as you put one finger down. Maybe you were going to lose after all. The chuckles from the others don’t help your embarrassment, even though you should hardly blame yourself. It doesn’t need to be clarified that since you’d been with all of them there was no need to fake it anymore, but it was definitely known by all that you had to in the past an ungodly amount of times.

You brave a look up from the carpet that you’d all but memorized as you see Ben's wide tooth grinning at Frankie beside you. You look over just in time to see Frankie put his finger down as the redness creeps up his neck. He’s staring daggers at the younger Miller and Santi’s chuckles send vibrations through your body as you lean into him.

“How did she not know?” You ask him in the sweetest tone, no judgment behind it, just genuine curiosity.

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, his calloused fingers digging into the patchy part of his beard. No doubt thinking how long this night will be if we have to explain each finger down,but of course that’s always Ben’s plan. He wants to draw this out for as long as he can.

“I pulled out and spit on her back.” He says it so sheepishly you almost feel bad for him. An image flashes in your mind and you make the mistake of looking over at Will who is doing his best to not completely lose it. You cup your mouth trying to suppress the giggle but it’s far too late.

“Laugh it up honey.” The funniest part is how could anyone not be thoroughly enjoying themselves when Francisco Morales is behind the wheel, but you figure it’s their loss.

You wrack your brain for something you’ve never done that they may have.Blowjob,one night stand,sent a nude photo,had sex in public…those are all out.

Will interrupts your thoughts as he speaks from the loveseat. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” He just saved you in more ways than one as you see Benny and Frankie glance at each other as they put a finger down. Santi tsks beside you and you don’t even have to look over to see he did as well.

You miss the look Santi shoots Frankie above your head as he makes a mental note. Ben may have been a thorn in his side at times but right now he could kiss the ground he walked on. Unbeknownst to you this has turned into a silent competition of memorizing everything you’ve never done,each time you don’t put a finger down he clocks one of them. He doesn’t even care that he’s about to lose as the room thrums with sexual tension.

As you predicted you and Will have the most fingers left. You have three,Will has two and Benny has one that he’s been holding onto for dear life. Santi and Frankie had long been out, Santi rejoins the group after refreshing your drinks. He knew he hasn't missed anything since it was getting harder to think of things as the game went on.

You need to get Ben out and you were sure this next question would. If it also took one down for Will then you would just be getting lucky you guessed.

“Never have I ever done anal.” Santi stifles a moan next you as Frankie not so subtly adjusts the growing bulge in his jeans. You were so focused on winning that you have no idea how thin of a thread they were holding onto. Frankie’s been fighting the mental image of checking each thing off your list one by one. Santiago isn’t faring much better not having realized how much innocence was still lying dormant in you.

Ben concedes as he grabs the pillow he was using on the floor, your brace for the moment that he decides to toss it at you only for him to place it gingerly in his lap.

“Welcome to the club.” Frankie mutters under his breath as you stare down Will who now has one finger up…interesting.

“Never have I ever been tied up.” Fuck

You put a finger down and wait for the responses that eventually never come. Will was playing dirty, he knows for a fact you’ve been tied up. It had only been a week since he asked you if you wanted to try it.

This was it,you had to go for the kill…but how bad did you want to win? You know there’s only one way but it will certainly come at a cost. In the end the cost may be worth it.

You raise up on the couch sitting back on your heels,proudly displaying the two fingers you have left. You can’t chance a look at anyone besides Will or you might chicken out. Frankie’s fingers grip nervously at the blanket that’s fallen next to you. He wants to reach out and touch you, the only sound over your beating heart is the rustling of the couch cushions as Santi leans forward just into your peripheral vision. Breath in…Breathe out 3,2,1.

“Never have I ever made someone squirt.” You say it so fast they almost don’t catch it…almost.

“Ha…he’s never made anyone…” Ben is silenced mid sentence as Will closes his fist and leans back into the seat. He doesn’t really care that he’s lost, in reality he’s actually won this game. Judging by the shocked looks on their faces or Ben’s mouth hanging agape. You didn’t fully think this through, your brain was clouded with the thrill of winning.

He almost feels bad for you as he says the momentary look of triumph quickly turns into one of defeat. It’s written all over your face as the realization sets in that you’ve completely fucked yourself, you would be a horrible poker player because you just revealed all your cards. If this were a lion's den you were a fresh piece of meat.

A drop of sweat trickles down your back as you lower your hand slowly to place it on your thigh. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Prove it.” Santi’s voice is so close to your ear you nearly jump out of your skin.

Will tilts his head at you as if to challenge you. This game was far from over and you’d be damned if you were going to lose. You stand from the couch and walk over to him. Four sets of eyes watching your every move as you grab his hand and pull him to stand. You raise your eyebrows as an acceptance to his challenge and he starts to lead you away from them toward the hallway. You sense no movement behind you as you make your way to his bedroom.

“You boys coming or not?” A small stampede sounds behind you and you chuckle picturing them trying not to trample each other as their bodies catch up with their feet, no doubt all thought having left their brains.

****

Santi’s lost count, has it been five or six times Will has brought you to the edge only to pull away and deny you what you so desperately want and need. He’s no stranger to this game but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on by it. Watching from a whole different viewpoint. Being a spectator is thrilling and watching you writhe and chase his touch after each denial makes his cock achingly hard in his jeans.

Frankie’s not doing much better as he tries to follow Will's rules he laid out before starting. If you want me to show you then you don’t touch her unless I tell you to. The captain in him didn’t come out often anymore but when it did he commanded respect.

Ben stares on with excitement and curiosity written all over his face. He watches as you grip the sheets, your chest heaving as sweat beads down your forehead. Will told you not to touch yourself and Ben didn’t know you could be so obedient.

Wills got you so on edge you can’t be shy anymore about the way you beg for him and plead for him to let you come. A far cry from when you first entered the bedroom.

He had slowly undressed you and instructed you to lay flat on the bed. He crawled over your body kissing and biting his way up your thighs and your stomach. His hand caressed your breast as his tongue laved over the other. It was too much and not enough as your eyes met the others standing in the room. They’d all seen you in this position before but something about them watching suddenly has you feeling vulnerable.

“Look at me.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and passionate as his hand gripped your waist and his tongue prodded your mouth. An expert distraction to bring you back to the moment.

“It’s just me and you.” It was the last thing he said to you before he methodically took you apart right before their eyes. You knew he was taking his time, putting on a show. He wasn’t simply going to make you squirt and move on like some conquest. He wanted to draw this out, show them what he was capable of.

He started with his mouth as his breath ghosted over your slick folds. He looked up at you through hooded lids one more time to give you a chance to back out, when you gave no indication of wanting to stop he dragged his tongue expertly through your slit. Parting it with his thumb as he dove in circling your clit. You were a goner from the beginning as he brought you to the first cliff only to leave you hanging. You cried out his name in desperation as he dipped two fingers in, pumping in and out as he bit down on your thigh. The pleasure and pain mixed in with you on display had your nerves alight.

With each denied release you can feel the pressure building in your core, it’s so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. You can taste yourself as he leans over you again kissing you through your whimpers as your body shakes beneath him.

“Will please…” Your sweet voice begging is like music to their ears. Frankie would give you whatever you want if you asked him but Will doesn’t budge.

“Please what sweetheart…I can’t read your mind.”

Son of a bitch he’s trying to kill you.

For all his resolve Santiago can’t help but be impressed. Even if this sudden burst of confidence is all a show for them he has to admit he would’ve caved by now and just went straight for the finale.

You’re not even sure when Ben and Frankie sat on the bed leaning against the headboard beside you, or when Santi sat at the end to have a perfect view of your pussy clenching around nothing as your arousal drips onto the sheets below.

“Please Will, I need you inside me…I need to come please.” You’re practically crying as he shushes you, his cock leaking precum on your stomach as it twitches in anticipation. He’s not going to be able to last much longer at this rate either.

He leans back on his heels as he grips the base of his cock, slapping your clit and dragging it through your slick as he slowly prods your entrance. The noise you make almost has him buckling as you sigh into it finally having what you want.

He starts at a slow pace as he wraps your legs around his waist, he can see the way your face contorts with every slap of his hips against yours. You can feel every vein and ridge as the lude sounds of your sweat and slick echo in the room.

You can’t see it from where you are but Frankie’s itching to touch you, desperately wanting to break the rule as he watches you try not to touch yourself.

Ben is mesmerized as he watches your breasts bounce with every thrust of Will's hips, he wants to latch onto you and bite down until you're screaming his name, but he knows his brother would do more than scold him if he so much as tried to touch you right now.

Santi’s waiting…waiting for any sign or movement as to how he does it. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself but he’s seen nothing new, nothing he hasn’t done to you a dozen times over. Any indication as to what Will has managed to do before the rest of them. It’s driving him a little mad as he watches you beg for it like you’ve never had it before.

You can feel the tension building as Will picks up his pace, he shifts your legs to either side of his head as he punches the air out of your lungs with every thrust. He brings his thumb down rubbing fast circles on your clit as you try to grab his wrist. That all too familiar feeling has you keen and arch your back. “Grab her hands.” Frankie moves before you can think, your wrists gripped tightly in one of his palms above your head.

“Wait…please.” He chuckles under his breath as his chest heaves with the sharp movements. Not mere seconds ago you were begging to come and now you’re begging him to stop.

You crane your head back and lock eyes with Ben, his eyes are etched with worry as he lays there helpless to your pleas. “Will!”

“She’s fine…aren’t you sweetheart?” You can’t think, he’s fucked you so dumb you cant remember your own name let alone formulate a sentence. “Yes.” Is all you can manage.

“She knows what to say if she wants to stop.” He grits through his teeth as his orgasm steadily approaches, his thighs burn and he’s surely bruised your calves as he grips tightly to them.

You’ve never safe worded with him and you don’t plan on it now. It feels so good as the searing hot sensation creeps up your spine threatening to take purchase in your brain. “Please don’t stop.”

He gestures to Frankie to grab the pillow, who moves with lightning speed as he situates it under your back. Santi looks at your face then, and he finally sees it. The look of panic and bliss as you succumb to the inevitable. He’s seen this look before but he ran from it afraid that he might hurt you. Will punches something deep inside you as he lifts your hips, the sound you make bordering on pornography while your arousal coats his stomach almost forcing him out of you completely.

He thrusts once and twice before nearly collapsing his weight onto you as he comes through your high. He releases your legs as he leans in to give you a kiss. Will was nothing if thorough and he always made sure you were okay. It’s in this moment that you truly feel like it’s just the two of you and not aware of the blissed out expressions of the other men.

“You did so good for me.” He pants out against your mouth as he desperately tries to catch his breath.

You highly doubt this is what Ben had in mind when he suggested this game but it ended much better than any of you would have anticipated.

Moments pass and you’ve just barely recovered. You’re in need of a shower and some water as you try to move slightly, the grip on your wrists tighten as you look back at Frankie.

Do it again.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@csarab615 @syrupsstuff @ghostslillady @uudelally @onefinnedwonder-fm @thedreadandthefugitivemind @romanarose @scarletthefierce

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musings-of-a-rose · 10 months

Text

Build Me Up - Chapter 4 (Final Chapter)

Pairing: William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader (inclusive - stock photos suck)

Word Count: 3200+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: The last chapter! I never intended this fic to be super long, but I loved their meet cute(?) idea and had to write it. As always, I take asks for any of the fics I write for, even if it’s just questions or a little drabble! Thank you for waiting so LONG inbetween that first and second chapter. Y’all the real MVP’s!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

--If you like this, please let the algorithm know by reblogging! This way it can be shared with multiple people (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Build Me Up Masterlist

General Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

<<;Chapter 3<<

Several months later, Will takes you out for drinks after a nice dinner, your usual Friday night date. It was a great chance for you both to catch up on what the other was doing during the week, as sometimes life got so busy you’d barely get a chance to speak. This last week, Will had been out of town at a few different bases, making his speech about joining the Armed Forces, so your conversations take longer than normal. Will places a drink order with the bartender, leaning against the bar on his elbow as he watches you talk about the kids archery camp you’ve been instructing, eyes lighting up as you talk about them, when his eyes glance over your shoulder and his smile drops, his eyes instantly becoming hard. You stop talking and follow his gaze to a really pretty women, tall, lean, and blonde.

His ex fiance.

She’s with a friend but splits from them, pointing to the bar directly where Will was standing. You try to drag him away but it’s like he’s frozen, unable or unsure of what to do.

“Oh. Hey, Will.”

He stares at her for a few moments longer than socially acceptable. “Ashley.”

She glances at you and back at Will, making the connection that you’re together. She sticks a hand out to you.

“Hi, you must be the new girlfriend. I’m Ashley. Will and I used to…well, we were engaged.” She says the last word like it holds some giant meaning, like she was hoping it would cause a fight between you both. You take her hand, gripping it firmly and shake.

“Oh so you’re the ex fiance? Amber?”

Her eyes narrow at you slightly. “Ashley.”

“Right, right. I knew it was something that starts with A.”

She glares at you for a second before rallying, schooling a look of indifference on her face. “So, how long have you two been dating?” She looks at Will but he seems incapable of answering her so you take over.

“About a year.”

She raises her eyebrows. “A year? You made it a whole year?” She sounds like she’s shocked, as if she wasn’t with him long enough to be engaged.

“Yeah. Will’s great.”

She smiles at you, but the look in her eyes, like she knows some terrible secret and is going to save you from something, makes you want to punch her even more. She leans in closer to you, but still speaks loud enough for Will to just hear it over the sounds of the bar.

“He can be…a lot. Did he tell you to say that?”

“What?”

She leans in closer. “Blink twice if you’re in trouble.”

The color on Will’s face drains and you square your shoulders, sitting up straighter as you turn the full force of your gaze on her.

“That’s really not funny. And honestly? I’m glad you couldn't handle him because that made him available for me. Will is the best thing to ever happen to me-”

Ashley waves her hand, cutting you off. “Yeah, yeah. Just wait until he finally shows you who he is in bed. A real freak. If you need help, just blink and I’ll call someone.”

You stand abruptly, your barstool wobbling dangerously on one leg as you do. “You know, I have to thank you.”

She blinks at you. “Oh? So you do need help?”

“Thank you for showing me exactly what a terrible person you are. It’s easy to see who the problem is. Now, unkindly, get the fuck out of our way.” You take Will’s hand and pull him up, Ashley staring at you open mouthed as you push past her, Will’s hand squeezing yours as you make your way through the crowd and out of the packed bar, heading straight for his truck. Will fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks it, hopping in and you do the same. He starts it but doesn’t move, letting the ac cool it down.

“What a fucking bitch,” You say, half to yourself and half to Will.

He’s quiet a moment. “I never thought…I didn’t know she was still in town.”

“Well fuck her. She is so rude. I wanted to fight her but I didn’t want to ruin date night.”

Will chuckles lightly. “Now that I would’ve loved to have seen.”

“Oh? I can go in there and drag her ass out here,” You point over your shoulder with your thumb, pretending to go for the doorhandle. Will smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he shakes his head.

“Hey…where are you?” You reach out and cup his cheek. Will leans into it for a moment, sighing deeply.

“She just…brought up a lot of memories. Ones that I didn’t want to think about again.”

“You’re a good man, Will. I know I say it all the time. I’m hoping it’ll sink in that Ironhead of yours one day.”

He smiles a little brighter this time, still not reaching his eyes. “I know.”

You watch him for a few moments before scooting close to him, pressing your lips to his and letting him lead. He responds after a second or two, kissing you back and pushing his tongue into your mouth. Moaning into him, you toss your leg over his lap, your hands sliding around the back of his neck, gripping and tugging on his hair. You tug a little harder, his head moving back and he smirks at you, that glint in his eye when he knows you’re about to sparkling in the dim light. Sucking at a spot on his neck, Will whimpers, fingers digging into your hips as you let go, a hickey quickly rising in palace of your lips. Will fumbles with his belt and you slap his hands away, quickly undoing his belt and jeans, pulling him out as he gasps at your touch, kissing him once more as you take him in hand and pump him a few times. Moving your panties aside you sit up and slide yourself down onto him slowly, which apparently doesn’t work for Will as he grips your hips and pulls you down quickly while thrusting up into you, chuckling darkly at your cry.

“Fuck, Will! You feel so good!”

He guides you as you fuck him, pulling you down harder as you chant his name, random words and sounds tumbling from your lips as he fucks you. One hand is gripping his arm and the other slaps against the window and it’s then you see her. Ashley, standing a car length or two away, staring directly at you and Will having sex. As Will leans forward to suck hard on your neck, you smirk at Ashley, giving her a small wave and flipping her off as Will hits that spot inside of you and you cum, screaming his name a little louder than you probably needed to. Will comes a moment later, grunting and panting your name as he spurts inside of you, biting you hard on the shoulder. Chests heaving, Will looks up at you, eyes still dark as he takes in your face, hair all askew and sweaty.

“I fucking love you, Robin.”

A smile spreads across your face. “I fucking love you, Will Miller.”

“Move in with me?”

“Was the sex that good?”

He chuckles. “It’s always that good with you.”

“Why don’t you ask me that when you’re not balls deep inside of me.”

He grips your chin lightly with his thumb and pointer finger and you meet his gaze.

“I mean it, Robin. I’ve been dying to ask you for a few months. I just…”

“You never have to be afraid to ask me anything, Will.”

He nods. “I know. So…will you?”

“Yes. But if you feel different in the morning, it’s ok. Just tell me.”

“Deal.”

—----

He does not feel different in the morning, and he proves this to you by burying his face between your legs until you beg him to stop, overstimulated and nearly crying from so much bliss.

“742,” Will says matter of factly.

“742? Really?”

He smiles proudly. “I love to make my girl cum.”

“I still can’t believe you track that.”

“Wanna know how many times we’ve had sex?”

You throw a pillow at him and he throws it back, expertly hitting you in the head.

–

Both of you take a couple weeks to pack your things and move them over slowly, since work was still super busy. Once you’re moved in, you settle into a comfortable routine, making Will a quick breakfast and coffee before he heads into work or off to the airport to make another recruitment speech. You can see his job wears on him, but when you ask him about it, he shrugs and says “It’s what I can do.” Once you pressed him more and he said a lot of places don’t want to hire veterans that have seen active combat. They don’t outwardly say it, but he’s been turned down for jobs that he interviewed great at, making it all the way through the process until they saw his forms, suddenly not so interested. He’d once asked a recruiter why and they mumbled something about “not worth the risk”.

He takes up archery with you as his coach and he takes to it well, which doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, considering his history. Will also pays very close attention to detail, making it easier for him to hone in on the target and how best to get there. He still loves it when you come and stand behind him, fixing an elbow here or a wrist there. You finally got him to snap out of concentration Will when you came up behind him and pretended to adjust something on his posture before he drew and ground your hips into his ass. Will burst out laughing, not used to being the one grinded on and you both laughed about that for a long while.

You’ve been together a year and a half and finally, Will gets to meet your family. They’re having their annual “2nd of July” celebration, as most of the family will be inside on the fourth, none of the veterans big fans of all the firework noise. They’d had to cancel last year and so were extra excited for this year, especially since you were able to fly in with the now infamous Captain William Miller.

“Do I look ok?” Will asks, fidgeting with his collar in the hotel mirror.

“Let me see.”

He turns to face you, arms outstretched to his sides. “Do I need to change?”

“As much as I’d love to take this shirt off of you, you look fine, Will. You don’t need to impress anyone.”

“Easy for you to say. Everyone loves you.”

“They have to. They’re family.”

When you arrive, Will knocks on the door, wiping his palms on his jeans that you’d convinced him to wear over business pants. He’s visibly nervous and you can see him getting in his head. So you lean up to him, speaking quietly by his ear.

“If you relax, we can stop at the store on the way back to get that stuff for that thing you’ve been wanting to try in the bedroom.”

Will’s eyes snap to yours, darkening instantly. His eyebrows raise but before he can say anything, the door opens and your dad is there, hugging you and grasping Will’s outstretched hand, a smile on his face.

“Will! It’s so good to finally meet you! You want a burger or a dog?”

“Whatever you have more of, sir.”

“Sir! You hear him? I like him already.”

“Dad!”

He chuckles. “Alright, alright. No need to call me sir. I’m fairly certain you outrank me.”

Will shakes his head. “Negative. You are the father of the love of my life. You definitely outrank me for bringing her into this world.”

Your dad stops, looking between Will and you and seeing the look of utter devotion on both of your faces. “That’s very kind of you to say, Will. Now come on - let’s get you some food before these heathens eat it all.”

Will’s eyes widen when you step out into the backyard and he sees the amount of people gathered here. Kids running around with sparklers, throwing snaps at each other and laughing, some people swimming in the pool, and others talking, some loudly and some not, red, white, and blue colors everywhere.

“I thought you said it was quiet?” He doesn’t look at you but the corner of his mouth ticks up.

“It is. We don’t do fireworks so it’s quiet for 2nd of July.”

You make the rounds, introducing Will to everyone, his shoulders relaxing more with every new person that he meets. “You weren’t kidding - almost everyone here has served or is serving.”

“Yup. I told you the truth that day in Publix.”

Everyone loved Will, but no one more than your mom. She fawned over him, squeezing his arm, making sure he had enough to eat and drink, that he knew where all the exits were and that there were no pets, the best places to stand with your back against a wall and clear line of sight to the door. The backyard was set up so you could stand pretty much anywhere and achieve this, but she wanted any excuse to talk to him. When your dad came over and pulled Will towards the grill to “help him”, your mom came up to you and gushed about Will, how he was so respectful and kind and a really nice man.

True to your word, no fireworks were had that night. Instead, your parents had put up a giant inflatable screen and played a video of fireworks with no sound effects, just classical music over top. Will and you sit on the ground, Will leaning back on his hands and you between his legs as you watch.

“This is amazing, Robin. I gotta tell the guys about this. We should do something like this back home.”

You lean back into his lap further, turning slightly to the side to look at him. “That’s a great idea! Frankie and Vanessa have plenty of room in their yard for this sort of screen. They aren’t too expensive. And their daughters would love to watch Frozen on this thing.”

The fireworks end and you sigh, stretching slightly as you stand up, finally able to make a full stretch. You turn to Will to offer him your hand, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when you look at him, kneeling on one knee, a ring box sitting in his hand.

“Robin, I know I’m not an easy man. Hell, you met me in the middle of a PTSD episode in the middle of a Publix. But somehow, even though I didn’t know you, you were able to pull me out. You saved me that day, but more than that, you’ve saved me every day since then. I feel…normal around you. Or as normal as I can be. You make me feel safe..safe to be me, all of me. I never thought that was possible. I thought that I would have to live my life half a person. You never judge me for the things I’ve had to do, any of the nightmares or quirks, none of it. Other women would’ve walked away, but you take my hand and guide me through the fog. And I hope I give you even an ounce of the happiness you bring me and I want to spend the rest of my life making sure that you’re happy and feel loved.” Will opens the little black box, exposing a beautifully crafted ring. “Will you marry-”

“YES!”

You launch yourself at him, cutting off his sentence to laughter and whoops all around, your lips crashing to his as everyone cheers. You take his face in both hands and pull back, tears falling not just from your eyes but his as well.

“I love you, Captain William Miller.”

“I love you so much, darlin’.”

On your flight home, you covertly join the mile high club, Will grinning from ear to ear watching you exit the bathroom and smoothe down your dress a few minutes after he’d left the same one.

—----

Everyone flies out to your parent’s house for the wedding, as they had practically begged you to have the wedding there. And Will enthusiastically agreed, as the yard was literally set up for veterans. Everyone was there, even Santi flew up from his job in Colombia and asked you to tell him who your single family members were with a wink.

The wedding was small but grand, flowers picked from your mom’s garden were woven into your braided updo, mathing the ones your mom had hand embroidered onto the outer layer of your dress, a matching embroidered handkerchief in Will’s coat pocket.

The reception went on long into the night, the kids all passed out on sleeping bags in the living room as they watched a movie. Will always had a hand on you at all times since you said “I do”, pressed to your lower back, lightly gripping your arm, or linking fingers with you and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

You’d both decided to skip the honeymoon and save that money towards a downpayment on a house of your own, a discussion of kids sometime in the next couple of years or so. “We can always go on some fancy trip later,” you say as you take another sip of the beer Will had brought you.

You did, however, take the week off anyway and spend it in bed, only leaving it to make food and use the bathroom, Will demanding that the only clothing you were allowed to wear was one of his shirts and nothing else. When you said “Yes, sir” he growled and chased you until he pushed you into the bed, both of you living out your now shared dark desires.

And in the morning, you woke before him, watching his sleeping face as the light hits it just right and you think about how lucky you were to have been in Publix that day and how much you love the man in front of you, even if he was snoring loudly.

—----

About a year or so later, Will and you are sitting on the couch cuddling, yelling out wrong answers to Wheel of Fortune, when his phone lights up. He leans forward and grabs it off the coffee table, letting you settle back into his side while he looks at the screen.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah. I just got a text from Santi.”

“If it’s about some girl, I don’t need to know.”

“No. He says he has a job for us.”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby-blog @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena-library @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 months

Note

Hey love!<3

So I was wondering if you could write something with Will Miller? I’m currently in my Triple Frontier era and I would loveeee to read some fluffy Valentine’s Day blurb about him.

Thank you so much and have a great day<33

Real Love, Baby.

will miller x female reader

warnings - one curse word

valentines masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

You wake up to rocks being thrown at your window.

You’re half convinced you’re dreaming, so you turn back over in bed, willing yourself to fall back asleep. When the noise continues, you march over, throwing back the curtains with fury.

“Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

You open your window, chuckling as you shake your head.

“Aren’t I the one that’s supposed to say that? You know, because I’m up high?”

Will laughs, and the sound carries through the air like a feather in the breeze, right up to you.

“Shit. My bad!”

You sit down on the windowsill, looking down at the man whose hair is glinting golden in the light of the sunrise.

“What are you up to, Will?”

“I’m recreating our first Valentine’s Day, baby!”

You grin at him, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you remember.”

“Remember? Honey, it was one of the best days of my life.”

You smile softly, silently wondering how you got quite so lucky.

“Okay, come on. For real now. Let’s recreate it.”

“You sure you remember your lines, William?”

“You’ll correct me if I don’t,” he winks, taking a step back to get into position. “Okay, ready? Action!”

You transport yourself mentally back to that morning all those years ago. You were both seventeen, naive kids with big dreams and even bigger feelings for each other.

“What are you doing here, Will? It’s six thirty in the morning on a Sunday.”

“I just couldn’t wait. I had to tell you - it’s now or never.”

You smile, remembering him saying those exact words, before you realise that you’ve broken character. He gestures at you to carry on, fighting a grin off his face.

“Tell me what?” you continue, back on track.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been since the fourth grade, when you leant me a pencil with a pink pom pom on the end. Maybe you don’t love me back, and that’s okay, but it is Valentine’s, so I just thought - what better day than today?”

You fight back tears suddenly, trying to process the fact that he remembers exactly what he said to you, even after so long. Inhaling deeply, you try to keep going.

“Did you have to tell me this so early? You couldn’t have waited until, like, nine or something?”

He laughs, full bodied and genuine, just like he did back then. He hasn’t changed a bit.

“I told you - I needed to tell you before I lost my courage.”

“I’m gonna go off script for a minute here, Will! This is the moment I climbed out of my window, but I’ll break my neck if I try that now. Give me one minute to come down. Hold on!”

You run down the stairs, still in your pyjamas, and out of the front door, where Will is waiting patiently for you.

“Hey Will?”

He looks at you expectantly, big blue eyes sparkling and warm.

“I love you too. I have since the fourth grade, when you bought a pencil with a blue pom pom on the end so we could be matching.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and dips you like you’re in a movie, before pressing his lips to yours. He tastes like peppermint, just like he did back then, and the kiss takes you right back to the first time.

He places you back on your feet as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Do you think they’d believe us?” you whisper. “If we told those seventeen year old kids that we’re married now?”

“Of course they would,” he replies, kissing you again. “I always knew I’d marry you. There was no question about it.”

You lean in and rest your forehead against his, the familiar warmth of his skin a welcome comfort.

“Thank God for your six thirty am courage, huh?”

Will laughs, deep and full of love.

“Valentine’s Day, baby. Some sort of magic in the air. Then, and now.”

You press a kiss to his rosy lips softly.

“Now, who’s gonna play the role of my mom coming outside and offering you pancakes and coffee?”

“What was it she said she saw us?”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Finally.”

#be murphy’s valentine #will miller x female reader #will miller x reader fluff #will miller x reader #will miller fluff #will miller #will ironhead miller #triple frontier x oc #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier fanfic #will miller imagine #will miller one shot #will miller x you #triple frontier x reader fluff #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x you

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kiwisbell · 6 months

Text

Honey-Do [joel miller]

It’s Sunday, chore day, and Joel has a honey-do list item of his own: get his girl pregnant.

my masterlist!

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: pre-outbreak joel, married!joel, pure fluff and smut, slight au, body worship, some cock worship, handyman!joel, malewife!joel, joel “my wife doesn’t lift a finger in this home” miller, vague daddy undertones, overstimulation, joel miller is a munch, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up unless you’re joel), creampie, breeding kink, actual breeding, talks of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, domestic bliss, joel’s love language being acts of service and by that i mean putting a baby in his wife, competence kink

word count: ~ 10k (someone stop me)

read on ao3!

a/n: hello, lovelies!! i received this ask ages ago and the idea inevitably snowballed because who is self-control?? does she go to a different school? anyway, this fic is pure plotless domestic fluff and domestic smut (is that a thing? yes!), so i really hope you all enjoy! pre-outbreak joel is very special to me xoxo

HONEY-DO

Your shared bedroom looks out over the eastern sunrise. A mutually-assured vigil, keeping one another safe—and timely.

In the mornings, the golden light spills through the break in the curtains. It will peek slowly inside and gently warm your body awake, testing the limits of its power. When you roll over and make a soft groan of protest in your sleep, seeking more warmth, the little strip of sunlight will widen, directing you. You will find the body next to yours, nuzzling close, your nose bumping his bare chest, and settle happily against it. In return, his body will seek yours, symbiotic exchange, a greedy arm pulling you closer.

In frustration, the sun grumbles it way higher in the sky, shining brighter and spreading wider.

It takes a couple tries to get it right: to shine in just the right way to make you blink rapidly awake, squinting in the glow. You gradually come to life, your lungs sucking in the first deep breath of morning air, your naked body stretching like a cat in the sunspot. Dust hovers lazily in the air, heralding a Sunday occupied by chores. The room is still, silent, and kissed by morning rays. Peaceful.

You examine him in the light: tanned skin sparkling gold, plush lips slightly parted, broad chest rising and falling. His hair is pleasantly tousled from sleep. There are patches of silver beginning to thread through his dark brown beard, and in your self-sustaining state of affection, you gently put your lips to one of the patches of skin where hair does not grow.

Your persistence grows with every second he refuses to wake. It may be a bit petulant, your lips smattering soft kisses across his jaw, beneath his ear, down to his neck and all its veins, but it begins to work. He stirs, groaning softly, turning onto his side and wrapping both arms around your waist. He does all of this without opening his eyes, resting his head on your belly and nuzzling against you as if he could get any closer—sated, for now, his body knowing nothing but the pull toward you.

You comb your fingers through his messy hair and listen to him breathe while he listens to your heartbeat.

“It’s ten,” you whisper.

“Hmph,” he says against your belly. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet; if you didn’t know his breathing patterns like they were mapped out in the lines of your palms, you would think he’s still sleeping.

“We slept in,” you point out.

Joel gently bumps his forehead into your stomach as if he were banging his head against a wall. “Shit,” he grumbles.

You laugh as his moustache tickles your skin. “Do you want to get up now?”

Another grunt, accompanied by a shake of his head. Big, strong arms pull you closer.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” you coo, stroking his hair away from his face. “Eggs… bacon… coffee…”

Joel presses his lips to your belly. “Don’t go takin’ my job, now,” he says, his voice groggy with disuse. “No girl of mine’s gonna run around gettin’ her own damn coffee.”

“Hmm. Means you have to move, Romeo.”

This earns a playful smack to the side of your thigh, his big, callused hand kneading your flesh while he wakes himself up with mouthfuls of your scent—linen and vanilla—and gulps down the sunlight glowing on your skin.

“Never mind,” you sigh, dreamy and complacent under his attention.

His eyes finally crack open, peering up at you, honey-brown pools touched by the golden light. He rests his chin on your belly and keeps his arms wrapped around your hips. His fingers trace shapes up and down your lower back. “You got a honey-do list?” he asks with a crooked grin.

Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “That depends. Can I get you to mow the lawn without a shirt on?”

“What do I get if I do?” he teases, his hand moving to your hip, contouring his hand to the shape of you.

You lift a brow, easing your legs apart underneath his body, letting him feel the warmth between your thighs. Like a moth to the goddamn flame, his eyes wide and eager, Joel crawls down your body with his mouth on your belly. Pausing just above your naked cunt, he blows cool air onto your clit and watches you squirm.

“After,” you gasp. “After chores, honey. We’ll never get up if we start now.”

“Don’t think I can make my woman come in good time?” he challenges, his palms keeping your thighs spread. Your pretty pussy glistens before his eyes, better than any fuckin’ breakfast. He begins to salivate.

Your head falls back into the pillows. “I never said that.”

Joel isn’t listening anymore. He kneads your thighs as he peers at you above your belly, your tits, to the curve of your jaw as you lie comfortably. Good. His baby ain’t about to get herself worked up on a Sunday morning.

He lowers his face just enough to let you feel his lashes tickling your lower belly, and you giggle his name, the sound pure adrenaline to his blood. You're so soft and supple under his fingers, moulding to his touch, letting him take care of you. You may be in charge of him, but this is where he takes control.

He presses a soft kiss to your clit and you sigh, your head turning toward the direction of the sun. It warms your face while your husband slides his tongue through your wet slit, lazily and sleepily, as though he's operating on instinct alone. Gathering up your wetness on his tongue, he groans, his fingers dimpling your thighs.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ made for me.”

“Oh, God,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering. “Baby…”

That sweet little whine is poison. He cannot do anything but continue to drink you down, flicking his tongue against your clit. He's a sucker and he's always been. Your pretty fuckin’ smile from across the bar that first night; your tight black dress and the too-sweet cocktail you smooth-talked him into ordering that had his adenoids prickling; your instinct for sensing others’ troubles and your uncanny ability to make them feel like they have none at all. He never stood a chance.

He knows for a goddamn fact every man in the bar that night wanted to do to you what Joel is doing now: lapping up your juices with his tongue, spit mingling with arousal, warming his body between your thighs under the watch of the mid-morning sun. But he got you. Joel. He bought you a drink and he took you on a date. He got to taste your pretty pussy and he got to sit you on his dick—after the second date, that is.

He's the one who gets to wake up with you, share matching gold bands around your fingers, kiss you freely. As far as he's concerned, he's the luckiest guy on the fuckin’ planet.

He feels particularly green when your back arches, your lips parting around his name, relishing in the feeling of his mouth on your clit. You're unashamed to take pleasure, never shy about telling him Oh, fuck, yes! Right there, honey! Joel, yes, that feels so good, baby.

Joel preens with pride. His hot tongue glides over your clit, smooth and wet, easily coaxing you to a languid high. The golden spotlight through the curtains shines on you. You're the starlet and he's the adoring fan. From the first day, he knew he'd do anything to make you notice him.

“This wasn’t your first bar fight, was it?”

Plucking pieces of glass out of his bloodied knuckles, you looked up through your lashes at Joel, who had been staring at you since you sat him down in the bathroom. Okay—a little longer than that.

He shook his head.

You just smiled at him and gently shook your head. About as much reproach as he would get. “This might sting. Just hold on tight if you need to.”

“Like the sound of that,” he said quietly, and if you heard, you didn't comment. You guided his hand under the warm water and washed the rest of the blood from his knuckles, gently smoothing the pads of your fingers over his rough worker’s hands. Capable, you thought, idly watching the blood swirl into the drain. He barely winced when you put his hand under.

“Wanna tell me why you did it?” you asked him, your tone soothing and sweet.

Joel shrugged. Big, broad shoulders. Humbly strong, until someone made him show it. “Ain't manly to touch a woman like that.”

You lifted your brows. “But it's manly to beat the shit out of the guy who touched her?”

Joel studied your face. Cherry-red lip gloss. Gently flushed cheeks from a healthy couple drinks. The instinctual rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the lighting shifting gently over your collarbones. It was fascinating just to watch you breathe. Even cleaning his bloody knuckles, you slowly circled the pad of your thumb over the back of his hand, like an innate urge to comfort. Your eyes had an old wisdom to them; a particular gleam a person gained when they were familiar with the hardships life had to offer.

He wanted to ask you. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to do more than beat up some asshole who thought he could get away with pinching your ass.

But he would earn it. A real man earned what he got.

“Didn’t beat the shit out of him. Just roughed him up,” he says.

He watched you bite down on a smile. “You're a little twisted, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, eyes flicking to your dewy lips, coated with that gloss. “Think so?”

“Yeah.” You licked your bottom lip and he wondered if you tasted like cherries. “But I'm going to ask you on a date anyway.”

Your fingers curl in Joel’s messy hair, making him groan into your pussy. “Oh, baby,” you gasp, cracking your heavy eyes open to watch him lap at you, practically petting his hair away from his face as his big brown eyes remain fixed to yours.

He purrs, suckling your clit between his lips, his eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of your flushed, tightening body. Making you come is one thing. Watching it is another. Your back arches and your fingers pull on his hair. Scalp prickling, Joel grips your thighs tighter. He’d let you peel away pounds of his flesh if it made you happy. He’d go eagerly to the grave knowing he had put some good into the world, put some light in your eyes.

“Joel, I’m… I’m coming—ah!” you cry, your thighs squeezing his head, your sensitive clit pulsing under his tongue as your pussy contracts around itself, seeking something nice and big to grasp onto. His cock is aching, his hips grinding idly against the mattress for relief, his head fuzzy from the pleasure of making you feel good. Your body slowly melts into the bed, your limbs twitching as the tension in your muscles loosens, your lips parted permanently around his name.

Eyes drooping and teary, you try to find him between your thighs, gently stroking his hair away from his face as it begins to fall into his big brown eyes. “Need a haircut,” you croak.

Joel hums, his head listing to the side, using your soft thigh as a pillow. He nips you playfully, your skin a golden path he intends to follow to the end. His hands caress your hips, helping you come down to Earth. You admire the delectable convex slope of his nose, the way it curves deliciously against your skin when he kisses, bites, inhales. He’s freckled and indented with the signifiers of a lived-in life; a good life. His is a likeness you could trace with your eyes closed.

It’s eleven o’clock, and your stomach begins to grumble.

Joel chuckles, pressing a long kiss to your belly. “Gettin’ up now,” he says. “Promise.”

He pulls on a pair of sweatpants, tucking his hard cock away to be dealt with later. Padding down the stairs, Joel is quick to tend to your needs, putting on a fresh pot of coffee. After so long together, his mind operates on autopilot, steering him from the cupboard to the refrigerator and back to the steaming pot, occupied with the menial task of making a good cup. The gentle clinking scrape of the spoon as he stirs your milk into the cup wakes him up until he feels practically revitalised. He keeps his coffee black.

He hears the soft tread of your feet behind him, feels the warmth of your body as you crowd his space, smiles at the way you smooth your palms over the planes of his muscled back in unadulterated admiration. His shoulders are wide, tapering down to the soft belly you’ve nurtured through years of cooking. He’s sturdy and strong and all yours. The sight of him always makes you a bit giddy.

“So handsome,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your face between his shoulder blades. The buffed claws of his woodsy pine scent hook into the spaces between your ribs.

Joel lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the wedding band on your finger, the engagement ring above it. “Sit down, baby. Coffee’s ready.”

You grin against his back, nudging your nose into his tanned skin. “Mmm. That sounds good. But I wanna stay here. ‘s nice and warm.”

“Girl of my dreams,” Joel murmurs, reaching around his back and patting your ass. “C’mon, I’ll keep you warm.”

You grumble your way to the little circular table in the kitchen, tucked into the alcove at the front window. It’s a souvenir from your parents' garage sale when they decided to sell their home and move to Austin. As a girl, you’d draw, scratch, and paint on that table, endlessly entertaining yourself by marking things up. Even now, there are remnants of your childhood in the worn grooves and chipped varnish. It fits nicely into your home, perfectly suited to two. It could even fit one more.

You ruminate as you watch Joel carry two mugs to the table. He knows which cup is your favourite: green ceramic decorated with tiny flowers, perfectly contoured to the shape and size of your hands, warming your palms just nicely between sips. Joel’s mug shows its age: white but slightly yellowed from years of use, bigger than yours. The steam of the coffee gently curls into the air, a dance of silvery ribbons in lock-step. They twist together as you purse your lips and blow. The rich, smooth caramel hue of your coffee contrasts the tar-black of Joel’s.

Since you dragged yourself out of bed on shaky legs, you shrugged on the navy T-shirt he tossed aside last night to give his greedy wife access to his chest. You'd carved some decent marks into his skin, now that you're properly looking: tiny bruises sharpening to purple, faint pinkish scratch marks that you don't remember making.

“Baby, I don’t mind,” he says, watching you scan his chest with a frown creasing your brow.

“But it looks painful, honey. You should let me—”

“You don’t gotta do anything,” says Joel, “‘cept come over here.”

Your brows lift coyly, your body sliding out of the chair and into his lap, legs bracketing his strong thighs. His hand finds a home on your lower back, bunching the hem of his shirt up to find your ass bare, your wet cunt sitting nice and pretty on his hard cock. You gasp when the generous length meets your puffy clit with heavy pressure. “Joel…”

Your voice is a mere whimper, a soft little plea for more, or for mercy. Joel’s always had better restraint than you.

“Warmer now?” he asks, like a real arrogant asshole, slipping his hand under the shirt on your body and splaying his fingers over your ribcage, thumb grazing the underside of your breast.

You do feel warmer, crushed up against him like this. You reach behind you and grab your coffee mug, taking a small sip. Your other hand winds around his neck and scratches the tousled hair at the nape of his neck. Joel hums, leaning close, nuzzling his face between your tits.

“Gimme the list,” he says, voice muffled.

You keep on stroking his hair and drinking your coffee between list items. “Mow the lawn. Clean out the eavestrough. Fix the sink.”

“Hmm, easy work,” he says, his other hand sliding up and down your back. It makes you melt into him even more, giving him the chance to tease a nipple between his teeth through the fabric of your shirt. You huff, wiggling your hips, but he's a brick wall. He does not budge. “Gimme yours, baby.”

You recall the items on your own list. “Vacuum the house. Go for groceries. Touch up the paint on the front door. Do the laundry. Cook dinner. Cut your hair,” you add with a playful smile.

Joel frowns against your chest, pulling back to look up into your eyes like a grumpy, needy dog. “You put all that down for yourself?”

You try to placate him with a kiss on his nose. “You work so hard, sweetie. I could use some hard labour once in a while.”

Joel shakes his head. “You aren’t doin’ all that by yourself.”

“No?” You lift your brows. “Wanna buy it off me, Mr. Miller?”

“I’ll win ‘em from you,” he says, tilting his head back to kiss your jaw. “Name the price.”

You bite your lip and chase his mouth, plush and soft under that dark moustache. “I’ll think on that. Meantime, you can get to work on that lawn while I watch from the comfort of the front porch. That sound fair?”

Joel’s old Southern values rear up every now and then, imparted by his mother and his father’s mother before. Putting in an honest day’s work will make his wife comfortable and happy. He doesn't want you lifting a finger around this home if he's perfectly capable of doing the job himself. He works with his hands all day, gets dirty and sweaty. You shouldn't have to—not when you work so damn hard every other day of the week.

Joel nips your chin. “Fine. But I ain’t gonna forget that I owe you.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, baby.”

Joel finishes his coffee, but you take your time with yours, changing into a short blue sundress while Joel, regrettably, puts a pair of jeans and a shirt on. Curling your legs up on the porch swing, you watch your man start the lawnmower, enthralled by the rippling of his back muscles with every pull. You know that some of it’s for show—knowing you're watching makes him want to impress you. Sometimes, he's still the man with the teenaged crush on the girl, doing everything he can and going out of his way to make you smile. It works.

He’s methodical: making lines up and down the lawn, shearing away the too-long blades of grass under the motor. As sweat begins to bloom under his collar and his brow, he wipes his forehead with his forearm and you lick your lips, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of running your tongue all over his strong, naked body. Jesus. You finish off your coffee and force your eyes away from your husband for a moment. It isn't too hot from where you sit on the wraparound porch, but your chest feels sticky.

You rush inside to fill up a glass of water for him, hastily scrubbing your mug clean and putting it back in the cupboard. Maybe you should be occupying yourself with your chores today; you worry nothing will get done if you continue to watch him work in the Texas sun.

He’s just finishing when you shoulder your way back outside, his neck glistening with sweat and golden noon-hour light, warm and tempting. You set the glass on the railing and wait for him to come your way, squeezing your thighs together as your eyes trail up and down his body.

He's always been a capable man, broad and tall—so good at his job that he was offered a promotion after a few months. But it isn't just his strength or his doggedness when it comes to getting his work done. It's the way he’s so eager to finish things, to check off the items on your list, to please you. He frowns at the idea of you doing too much work. He parades you around town with a puffed-up chest, as if to announce, This is my wife. I’m her husband and I’m fucking proud. He takes your pleasure so seriously that it feels like a competitive sport—always outdoing himself, always striving for more. He loves selflessly, and yet he loves just selfishly enough to make sure the world knows you're his.

He’ll be a good daddy.

You glance down at your belly and let yourself picture it: swollen and round, ballooning big enough to fit a new life inside. You imagine smoothing your hand over a growing bump, Joel’s warm palms feeling the undulating kicks of a little baby inside, half of him and half of you. You picture back aches and swelling feet and insatiable cravings and expended energy. And not a part of it deters you. Not a speck of your willpower wavers, the way it would have mere months ago.

Something has changed. It may have been gradual and it may have been sudden. But it's new, all the same. It’s been this way since a week ago, when you looked in your nightstand at your little pink pill organiser labelled by weekday, and decided: No more.

Watching Joel make his way back to you, shielding his eyes from the light, you idly place your hand on your belly. Something new. A welcome change, you think, to have someone new sitting at our little table.

Joel climbs up the steps to the porch and gulps down the glass of water. “Thank you, baby,” he says, wiping his mouth. Your lips part as if to taste the air around him, to chew, to savour, relishing the richness.

Your pupils expand, taking in more of him, and Joel notices, placing a rough hand over yours where it rests on your belly. “You’re lost in thought, honey. Wanna tell me what's in that pretty head?”

“Just…” Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “Thank you for doing that. I know it's a big job.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” says Joel, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Got any idea how I can win those chores off you?”

Hands grasping your hips, sliding over your sweat-slick spine, saccharine noises slipping from your throat onto your tongue and out into the open air. Fingers imprinting permanent fixtures into your ribs. The heady weight of his big, fat cock wrenching you open, as it always does, slow until it isn't anymore. Desperation kicking in, a switch flipped, pummeling and brutal and unforgiving. Uncompromising. Hips pressed flush to your ass, nothing spilling out. Not a drop.

Everything sealed in tight as promises are exchanged as whispers in the dark.

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

All right. You could have been more delicate about it. Not precisely how you wanted to approach the topic, but it seems to get the job done.

Looking down at you, Joel slowly lowers the empty glass, mouth opening as he searches for words. “What?”

There’s no point in shyness or hesitation. You know your body, your mind, your heart. You thread your fingers through Joel’s and let them stay connected over your stomach. “I want you to give me a baby, Joel Miller,” you say softly, your gaze locked to his. “That's my price.”

Joel swallows thickly, his mouth still gaping. “I heard you,” he rasps. “Just… you… you mean it?”

You try not to melt over the tone of his voice: low, bordering on desperate, wanting. There’s hunger in the sound of it. “We’ve talked about it,” you offer, conciliatory. “Lots of times.”

“Yeah, we have.” Joel steps closer, his eyes dipping from your eyes to your mouth, your throat and collarbones, to your belly. His hand flexes. “You gotta be sure. You gotta know it's what you want.”

You cup his face and give him your best smile. It's the sort of smile he remembers from the very first night you met. The sort of person who is unashamed to show their joy on their face. “Honey, I want it all with you.” Your fingers squeeze his. “We’ve waited so long and I don’t want to wait anymore.”

His ears are ringing. All Joel can do is sweep you into his arms and grin into your throat, his hand firm on the back of your head, curling around a fistful of hair. “Girl of my fuckin’ dreams,” he mumbles against your skin. “I’ll make you a momma. Give you just what you want. Everything you want.”

As you close your eyes and open your ears to his ramblings, your erratic heartbeat settles. Serenity finds the pair of you, locked together on your front porch, and the next part of your life begins.

“Don’t think this gets us out of doing chores,” you tease.

“You aren’t gonna lift a goddamn finger,” says Joel fiercely, his lips still littering kisses all over your neck. “You’re havin’ a baby.”

“Honey, I’m not pregnant yet,” you laugh. “I don't need to get all lazy right away.”

“Yeah, you do, and you will. I’m gonna make you the laziest momma in Texas,” says Joel, smiling into your throat, the scratch of his moustache making you dizzy with laughter. “Gonna look so fuckin’ beautiful with a baby in you. Gonna glow like a goddamn firefly. Shit, we need to paint the spare room. I need to build a crib, get time off work—”

“Joel,” you coo, scratching your nails up and down the back of his neck. “We’ll have time to do all of that.”

He pulls back to look down at you, eyes so buttery-soft in the shade of the porch that you impulsively reach for his cheek and run your fingers through his patchy beard. “What’s next on my list?” he asks, holding you around the waist.

You tap your fingers gently against his cheek as you recite each item over again. Joel’s arms tighten, pulling you closer, pupils widening.

“And then what?” he says gruffly.

You beam, and he's so fucking in love that he may keel over, doubled by the intensity of his affection. “And then, you're going to take me to bed and put a baby in me.”

This phenomenon should be studied: how quickly Joel Miller speeds through his chores when he has enough incentive. The anticipation of bending you over on the mattress and wringing every drop of cum from his balls until your stomach swells drives each flick of his hand as he touches up the forest-green paint on the front door, weathered slightly by morning sunlight over the years. The image of his hips pressed flushed to you as he grinds deep, spilling his cum into your womb and forcing it to take, motivates every turn of the steering wheel as he drives you to the grocery store in his clunky Chevy.

He’ll need to drive to Benny’s, get the suspension fixed up; no way in hell he's going to let his pregnant wife sit on the old bench of a bumpy pickup truck, not with the speed bumps dotting the neighbourhood. At least there's a good preschool nearby. He pictures taking his baby to school and he preemptively feels the inevitable first swoop of dread into his gut knowing he'll have to watch his little girl disappear behind those doors. He knows, somehow, that it’ll be a girl. There's not a doubt in his mind.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” you ask him, playing with his fingers as he holds your thigh. Joel is a great driver; he steers so easily, one palm sliding smoothly over the wheel, his eyes alert and his speed under control. It’s a little sexy, and it makes you antsy from where you sit on the bench. Sure, there are chores to do and there’s dinner to make, but it’s getting harder to push your innate needs to the back of your mind. You don't know if you can wait all day to get him inside you.

“Names,” he says. “Got lots of ideas.”

“Yeah? Fire away.”

“Well, I like Eleanor. Good, strong, classic name, y’know? Little wordy, maybe. Then there's Mary, Marie, Hannah, and I can tell you don't like any of ‘em,” he finishes with a laugh, squeezing your thigh. Your silence has always been a tell.

“They're very sweet names,” you concede, “but they don't feel like my baby.”

Joel’s hand slides up to your belly and warms you beneath your dress. “Maybe we’ll feel it,” he says, “when we make her.”

“Think it’ll happen on the first try?” you wonder aloud, watching the scenery whiz by outside. It's a sunny, temperate day for Austin. You think about taking your baby for a walk, lounging lazily in a stroller while you say words that fall on deaf ears, but will resonate in due time nonetheless. You think about a little girl that will cling hard to her daddy’s leg when she gets scared of the storms outside, the way you did when you were little. You think about long nights shushing your sweet baby girl to sleep, about those same nights spent nestled into Joel’s body, the three of you dozing idly on the sofa. A unit.

“If it doesn’t, I’ll just have to try again.” You watch his fingers creep back down between your legs and snap the waistband of your panties.

You smack his hand. “If you keep playin’, Mr. Miller, you're gonna have to take me right here, in this truck. You want to give your wife a bad back?”

Joel grunts, patting your thigh. “Dirty play.”

“That's what I thought.”

Back at home, Joel vacuums the house while you manage, some-fuckin’-how, to convince him to let you do the laundry. He fishes debris and runoff out of the eavestrough, then gets down on his bad knees to tighten the plumbing underneath the sink.

“Let me help, sweetie. At least hand you a wrench or something. You'll hurt your back again.”

“I got it,” he grunts from under the sink. “Just a loose pipe. I’m peachy.”

You just sigh and let him carry on, the stubborn bastard. When he stands, the job done, he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, and you get a generous glimpse of his belly, the trail of dark hair directing your gaze down, down—

“Joel?” you squeak, wringing your hands together.

He drops the shirt back over his abdomen and steps closer. “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you, um… Are you hungry?”

He understands the particular glint in your eye, the telltale widening of your pupils, the hollow of your throat dipping as you swallow, your lashes fluttering gently. Blood surges down to his cock and it begins to fill out his jeans at the thought of taking what he's waited for all day. “No,” he says, licking his bottom lip. You eye every minute movement with meticulous precision. “Think dinner can wait.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you say, crowding him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. He watches you prowl slowly toward him, gaze locked to the heady pull of your eyes. His cock twitches with a vested interest in the body now pressed up against him. Joel cannot look away from the siren now calling him to sea.

“That so?” he rasps, bunching the fabric of your dress so it rides up your hip and gives him a good look at your panties. “You dressed up all pretty today. For me?”

You're as coy as a flirtatious schoolgirl, trailing your fingers up and down his muscled bicep. “Always for you.”

“That’s right, baby. You like me lots, don't you?”

“Mmm, I do,” you purr, your hand sliding up his abdomen to his chest, admiring the hard planes of his strong body. “So handsome, strong, generous…” You get lost in your exploration, eyes dipping to his throat, your lips instinctively seeking the delectable vein that pulses with every beat of his heart. “Such a good man. Gonna be such a good daddy.”

Joel’s breath shudders out of him when he feels your soft, warm mouth on his neck, indulging in the taste of him. “Jesus,” he croaks, gripping your hips hard. “Jesus, honey, you gotta go easy on me. Lemme take it slow—”

—or I swear to God, I’ll blow a load in my jeans.

“You wanna undress me?” you say, like a real fucking tease, pulling away and tugging playfully at the straps of your dress. Joel’s nostrils flare, and he’s walking you back into the wall, cupping the back of your head to protect it, and slanting his mouth over yours.

He’s salty with the sweat that drips from his temples and he still smells of fresh-cut grass. He’s all Joel, all yours, the first gulp of air you breathe in when you wake and the last sigh you exhale before you sleep.

You moan into his mouth as he parts your lips and dips his tongue between them to taste yours. You taste like mint and coffee and he clutches you tighter, wrinkling the fabric of your pretty little dress in his fist. The sunlight filters through the windows, intrusive, bleeding into the moment as if taking a snapshot. Joel kisses you so deeply that your throat feels stained with the gasps of breath you exchange.

You're sweet enough that it makes him ache, bending your back to fit you to him, craving more. Closeness is not enough—he needs possession.

Joel’s kisses are bruising, unforgiving, merciless, but they are also slow, careful. He isn't sloppy; he does precisely what must be done to get you riled. And when he breaks away, his forehead resting against yours, you tug his hair with a pitiful whine.

“I wasn't done,” you tell him.

Joel pouts, mocking. Fingers pull at the straps of your dress until you're watching it pool at your feet. His big hands find your tits immediately, squeezing out all his frustrations, tweaking your nipples and lowering his mouth to your throat.

Your fingers curl into his hair, glueing him to you while he marks your throat, sucking blood to the surface, retribution for the hickeys all over his chest. His warm palms explore your tits the way he likes, and you curve into him, giving him all the access he wants. “Joel, honey—”

Your voice is nectar, warmth from a fire on the Fourth of July, the stomach-cramping laughter around the flame. Joel groans, blindly searching for your hand with his face still nuzzled in your throat, sucking a particularly aggressive bruise that you’ll scold him for later. But he threads his fingers through yours and feels the cool kiss of your twin wedding bands, and your sweet, wispy sighs have him grinding absently against your thigh. You don't have half the mind to get mad at him for a goddamn thing.

He pulls away with a great yank of his self-restraint, still holding your hand. “C’mon, baby.”

You follow dutifully, staring up at your husband with the same moony eyes you gave him on your wedding day. The third stair creaks a bit, the way it always does. The bedroom door is first on the left, and it's a good fucking thing, because Joel can't wait any longer.

He walks you to the edge of the bed, stalking, a predator on prey, focused solely on his task. “Goddamn beautiful,” he says to himself, scanning your mostly-naked body and feeling his eyes droop in arousal.

“Think so?” Your hand drops between your bodies and palms his erection over his jeans. “Yeah, you really think so.”

His nostrils flare. “Sit.”

You lower yourself onto the mattress, primly placing your hands on your thighs and straightening your spine. Joel hums appreciatively, approaching you and slotting himself between your legs. There's a dark wet spot pooling in your panties. “Sweet thing. So needy all fuckin’ day.”

“So were you” is your retort, packing little punch due to the way you push your tits toward him like a fucking whore.

Joel presses his big, warm hand to your sternum. “Remember what you said to me the first time I got you in bed?”

“‘Let’s go again’?”

“The other thing.”

“'Let me suck your dick’?”

“Try again, baby.”

“‘Wrong hole’?”

Joel snorts, shaking his head. “Goddamn smartass,” he mutters. “Told me you wanted me from that first night. Told me you woulda let me fuck you against that bathroom mirror.”

His hand begins to move, rolling your nipple between his fingers like a cigarette, playing with you the way he likes. “Said you’d let me do whatever I wanted,” Joel says quietly, not meeting your eyes, transfixed by the way your body seeks the touch he gives you. “That still true?”

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” you tell him, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I’m yours, Joel Miller.”

He tilts his head slightly, satisfied. “You got somethin’ you wanna ask me?”

You hook a finger in his belt loop. “Can you get naked now?”

He laughs, guiding your hand to the buckle on his belt. “Go on. Do what you wanna do, baby.”

He belongs to you. He’s yours to mould the way you want.

Your fingers do away with his belt, whipping it out of the loops and hanging it around your neck. Joel’s hands flex at his sides as you toy with the hem of his shirt, bringing it slowly up his torso with your palms flat to his tanned skin.

You imagine you're sculpting him like clay, bringing your hands over the contours and admiring the work when all is done. It’s the artist’s pride of finishing the work and none of the self-reproach when something comes out wrong, because it’s Joel, and wrong becomes negligible.

You bring the shirt over his head with his assistance, lifting his arms for you, tossing the thing aside with little care. His eyes haven't once wavered from you. Next are his jeans, the scrape of his zipper and the delectable anticipation of hooking your fingers in the waistband and guiding them slowly down his hips.

His cock springs forward, thick and heavy and so hard it must ache, as you shuck his jeans down with his boxers. He grunts above you, his cock bobbing at the sight of your pretty lips parting. But you don’t take him into your mouth. You grasp the base of his cock and gently nuzzle your cheek against his length. Something like a strangled whimper leaves his throat.

“Baby,” he chokes.

“Yes, honey?” you say sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Jesus,” he says through his teeth. “You’re so fuckin' sexy. Fuck.”

You hum, slowly stroking your hand up and down as your tongue darts out to lick his balls. Joel’s hips stutter, his hand flying out to catch himself on the bedpost. “Goddamn. Jesus—”

Your coy smile knocks him askew, your lips pursing as you spit on the head of his cock, spreading your own saliva around the tip with your thumb. “I just wanna thank you”—a soft kiss to the tip has a rumbling groan crawling out of his throat—“for everything you do for me. I just want you to know how much I love you.”

Joel exhales hard, struggling to remember how breathing works when he's got his wife playing with his cock like it's your favourite toy. “How much do you love me?” he demands.

You wrap your fingers around the head of his cock and twist your hand up and down his shaft in a couple slow strokes. You're driving him fucking crazy. His vision is whiting out.

“I love you,” you purr, licking a broad stripe up the underside of his length. Joel’s chest is heaving with the effort of holding back. “Love you so much. Love you enough to make you a daddy.”

Joel caves, threading his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck and stroking his thumb along your jaw. “Fuck, baby. Please…”

“Do you love me?” Batting your lashes, you scatter measured kisses from his tip to the base, teasingly licking his balls.

“Christ, I—” His hips jut forward instinctively. “I love you. Fuckin’ love you, baby.”

You flick your tongue against his slit and relish his groan, revelling in the sight of his flushed chest, his pink cheeks, the sweat on his brow. His jaw is tense, his nostrils flaring. He’s trying not to take control.

You slap his cock twice on your tongue and finally take it past your lips, sealing your mouth over the head. Joel moans, white-knuckling the bedpost, his other hand now stroking your hair. You fondle his balls in your free hand while the other grips him at the base, and he’s going to come embarrassingly soon if you keep looking up at him this way.

Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock while your lips seal tight, greedily suckling at his tip. Oversensitive, skin prickling with salty sweat, Joel practically breathes through his teeth. “Gonna kill me,” he manages. “You’re gonna kill me, honey.”

“Mmmm,” you reply, happily taking him deeper, his length sliding along the warm wetness of your tongue. Joel’s fingers tighten in your hair.

“Fuuuuck. You love this cock.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Love takin' me into your mouth like a little slut.”

“Mmmmph,” you agree, pushing your tits out.

His hand drifts down to the belt hanging around your neck and he wraps his fist around both ends, tugging so you’re forced to take him deeper. You splutter, breathing hard through your nose, your arousal dripping onto the mattress.

The sloppy sounds of your mouth working his cock send his head spinning. Drool dribbles from the corners of your lips, your eyes squeezing black tears from dewy lashes. And when you take him down your throat, the sound of your choked moan leaves Joel with little choice but to pull out before he comes.

You whine, squeezing your thighs together. He swipes his thumb underneath your eye and shows you the black smudge from your mascara. “Doesn't take much to get you cryin’. You like me that much?”

You bite your bottom lip and beam up at him. “Did I do okay?”

Your faux-innocence makes his dick twitch in your face, and you flick your tongue out to lick at the tip once more. Joel grunts, grasping his belt and tossing it away.

“‘Did I do okay,’” he murmurs, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. “Got no idea after all these years. No idea what you do to me.”

“I just wanna take care of my man. He works so hard, you know, keeping me safe and happy.” You run your hand over his soft belly, the trail of hair that leads down to his cock. “He’s always liked to give me things.”

Joel backs you farther up the bed and crawls over your body, lowering his head to bury his face in your throat. You smell fresh and sweet as vanilla, and when he playfully bites into your skin, your saplike laugh has him grinding helplessly against your thigh.

He loves to give—always has. It’s all he knows. It took a long while for you to get him to unlearn some of his blind selflessness, to let you take control sometimes and care for him instead. Your Joel provides; he does not take. And the prospect of getting to give his wife a baby is turning him to putty in your hands. By the time he gets to work, he’ll be dead-set on his task, hard-pressed to pull out of you. He’ll want to get the job done on his first try, refusing to see you upset if the test comes back negative, but the id will still scratch and claw for another chance to fill you up.

Joel sucks a hickey into your neck and soothes the mark with his tongue, the slow, soft pleasure compounded by the way his warm body covers you, your fingers carding through his locks.

Your voice oozes, honeyed, down his spine. “I love you, Joel.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and crushes his nose in your throat, his hand smoothing down your hair. “I love you.”

“You want to make a baby?”

He rears back slightly, his nose bumping against yours. “Yeah. I really fuckin’ do.”

You grin, lacing your fingers together at the back of his neck. “Will you fuck me? Please?”

Joel brushes his thumb across your chin. “Use your words.”

“I want to be a mom, Joel.” You give him a long, gooey stare, eyes warm and soft as running water. A look like that will make a man give you the goddamn galaxy.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. “I know, baby. I’ll help you. Hands and knees, now.”

The gentle direction moulds your body to the shape of the words. You go easily, your back arching as you rest your weight on your forearms and spread your thighs. The bed dips behind you as Joel settles in, his hands grasping your ass and making you jump.

Your body trembles with excitement. You’re going to be a mom. He's going to get you pregnant. You feel dizzy, bending deeper at the hips and shaking your ass at him, deluded with your own arousal.

But Joel doesn't fuck you right away. No, he bumps up against the backs of your thighs, warm hands branding your skin, and rubs two fingers over the wet spot darkening your panties.

“I do this to you?” he says smugly.

“You know damn well—”

“Wanna hear you say it.” The no-nonsense command triggers a submissive response. “Who did this to you?”

Your body melts against him, presenting your pussy to him like a needy whore. “You, Joel. It’s you, baby. Only you.”

Your babbling makes him squeeze handfuls of your ass, spreading your asscheeks apart to get a good glimpse of the way your pussy drools into your panties. Shuffling backward and lowering himself to his knees on the floor, Joel’s tongue darts out and licks you through your underwear.

“Ohh, fuck!” you gasp. “Joel…”

He hums, tasting your tang through the fabric and finding your puffy clit, sucking gently. You cry out, your fingers grasping the sheets, and Joel moves your panties aside to slather his spit all over your dripping pussy. The languorous movements of his tongue are indulgent, achingly slow; he loves the taste of you as much as you enjoy having his mouth on your cunt.

“Oh my God, Joel… fuck, honey, please—!”

Your thighs are trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up, the strokes of his tongue turning your muscles to soup. He stops to take your panties off, guiding them off your legs, and by now, you're so wet that your juices glisten halfway down your thighs. Joel dives back in and licks up the rivulets of arousal from your skin, all the way back up to your weeping hole.

“So goddamn sweet,” he grumbles, kneading your ass in his hands as he flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times.

“Joel, I’m…” You’re drooling, grinding pathetically into his face, already close to an orgasm, and he isn't fucking letting up.

He wants you as wet and needy as possible, his own cock leaking onto the bedsheets at the prospect of sliding into your creamy pussy.

Your cheeks burn and your muscles lock as Joel makes out with your pussy, his tongue laving over your pearl in slow, aching circles. He drowns in the pleasure of making you feel good. He soaks himself in kerosene and lights the match.

“Oh, fuck!” Your thighs shake around his head and your toes curl, ears ringing with the force of your high. Grasping feebly at the bedsheets, you try not to list, but Joel isn’t fucking stopping, cleaning you up with his tongue like you're a piece of goddamn pie.

His fingers dig into your ass, rapacious as his mouth, and you climb high to a space that transcends the sky, feeling nothing but the linen underneath and the man above, softly kissing your poor, used clit.

He doesn’t let up until you reach back and gently shove his head away, grasping his damp curls. “Baby, let me rest,” you gasp, “just for a second.”

Regretfully, he pulls away, pressing a kiss to each knob of your spine, dragging his nose up your back. “‘m so fuckin’ lucky,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Lucky you didn’t kill me.” You laugh breathlessly, your hips already sore from keeping your ass in the air.

“Makin’ sure you’re ready,” he says innocently, sliding his thick fingers through your slit. You gasp, trying to escape his grasp despite yourself. He just clicks his tongue in reproach. “Nuh-uh, baby. You're gonna stay right here, let me make it good for you. Hmm? Wanna feel good?”

You nod your head frantically. “Yeah, yeah, I do. Wanna be good.”

“Mmm, now, you know that ain't your job tonight,” he says in a mock scold. In the meantime, his fingers soak themselves in your wetness. “Don't think you're ready for me yet.”

“No! No, I’m ready,” you pant, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts, holding your hip in place. “Baby, please, I’m ready for you. Need you so badly.”

“Shhh, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need. Just be patient.” Hands smooth over your ass, between your thighs, and then two fingers are teasing your hole. Joel tilts his head to watch the way he spreads your folds wide. “Gonna fill this up.”

A strangled noise spills from your mouth, your cheeks burning hot at the way he exposes you so tenderly. “Please,” you croak, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

He grasps himself and teases the already-wet head of his cock over your pussy, spurting precum onto your hole. “You want a baby?” he asks, low and dark. You luxuriate in the velvet-soft tone. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want a baby,” you whisper, “please. Please give me a baby.”

He readies himself at your tight cunt and the excitement briefly overcomes him, forcing his hips forward and pushing past the wet, gummy seal of your pussy. You gasp, held in place by his hand on your hip.

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“I want to make you a daddy!” you sob. “I want to have your baby and make you a daddy.”

“You want to be a momma?” he says through his teeth, tunnel vision narrowing his focus to the way he slowly guides himself into you, wrenching you open. At this angle, with how wet you are, the glide is delicious, white-hot, his balls heavy with the need to empty inside you. “That it? Want everyone to know who put a fuckin’ baby in you?”

Your husband is so fucking big, so strong, and the way he pins your body down feels close to primal. “Yes! Yes, Daddy, yes! I want to be a momma. Please give me a baby.”

The words put a chisel to his self-restraint and crack down. He’s gone, baring his teeth, pulling your hips toward him and impaling you on his cock, relishing the give of your tight walls and the way he sits snug against your cervix. You mewl, reaching back to find a purchase on his hip. “Joel, fuck…”

He establishes a punishing pace, driving your body farther up the bed with every thrust. “That’s it,” he groans, sliding his palm up your spine. “Gonna look so goddamn beautiful with a baby in you. You were fuckin’ made to take this cock.”

Your moan is syrupy and pitched low, your cheek buried in the mattress, letting him fill you up again, again, again—

“I’ll get you fuckin’ pregnant,” continues Joel, panting through his words, sweat beading on his brow as he runs his hands over your skin. “Stuff you so goddamn full you'll always feel me.”

“Uhhh!” you moan, fisting the sheets, your body practically folded in half to accommodate your husband’s huge body, his thick cock.

Joel wants this, too—has for a long time. It’s hard not to notice the little details. He places his hand on your belly when he isn't even paying attention, his lips finding the soft skin there when he first wakes in the morning. You knew he would have dropped everything to give you a baby the second you demanded it, but you realise you may have underestimated his need.

Joel is growling like a dog, sweat dripping from his temples and back pinching with effort as he holds your body close, glueing you to him, his cock reaching deep, deliberate, mind going numb, intent the only tangible feeling he can grasp onto. Intent and the white-hot drag of his cock against your walls.

You’re going to grow swollen and round with his baby. He will watch your tits grow heavy, your belly bulge, your cheeks take on a ruddy, dewy glow, the telltale mark of his success, his devotion. He’ll wake up every morning wrapped in the scent of your body, your hormones, his palm finding sanctuary on your soft, warm belly. He’ll bury his face in your throat and you’ll smile and the sun will warm the golden spot where a new life grows.

Fuck, he’ll never let you do laundry again. You could hurt your back.

Your head spins at the wet slap of his balls against your clit, the obscene squelch of your pussy around his impressive length, the way he grabs at you. He’s greedy, hands mapping each rib, each vertebrae, every curve and contour that makes you.

Your pussy sucks him in, just as needy, breathless moans and squeals punching out of your throat as you croak out pleas: Joel, baby, please. I want a baby so badly. Wanna have your baby. Please, please, fill me up! And Joel listens, his palm sliding around your waist and down your belly, rubbing your sensitive clit with two fingers.

A real man gives his wife everything she wants.

He moans at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, his fingers wet and insistent against your little clit, coaxing you toward your climax. “C’mon,” he grunts, “come for me, baby. Fuckin’ choke me. Wanna feel it. Come and I’ll give you the baby you want so goddamn bad. C’mon, baby.”

His words seep into your bloodstream, an uncontrollable tremor racking your body, your arms giving out as he bends over you and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. “Ohhhh, God! Oh my—!”

Joel’s hands squeeze your tits, his entire body covering yours, a warm, protective blanket, slick with sweat and heart thundering against your back. His lips are on your skin, feverishly kissing and nipping. You can’t breathe, can’t move, and it feels so fucking good. You soak his cock, muscles seizing, pinned down by his strong body.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans. “That’s it, baby. Goddamn, keep on squeezin’ me like that. Not gonna leave this tight pussy until you're fuckin’ pregnant.”

“Joelllll,” you whine, your orgasm prolonged by his words, his unrelenting thrusts, the jolt of his balls slapping your clit. “Want it so bad. Wanna give you a baby. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, God—”

The broken sound of your voice, weak and raspy, goes straight to his dick, and his balls are pulling up, his head bombarded with the smell of sex, perfume, linen, you. He rests his forehead between your shoulder blades as you milk his cock, turning his thrusts sloppy and desperate. He needs to come. He needs to make it real.

Your orgasm leaves you pliant and loose in his arms, and he fondles your tits, squeezing them hard in his hands as he pictures them growing, swelling heavy with milk he’ll feed your baby. His baby. Idly, you moan, letting him use your body to get off, his teeth grazing your neck.

“Gonna come. Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, give you a baby. Gonna—Jesus, goddamn—”

Maybe it's the pent-up frustration of not having come all day. Maybe it's a renewed sense of purpose, knowing he's got a job to do, keeping every drop safe inside you. Maybe it's the sheer fucking excitement of getting to give his wife what he's wanted to put in you for so long. But when he comes, hips flush to your ass, he comes so much, for so long, that the rapid rush of blood from his cock back up to his head has him nearly keeling.

Kissing your cervix, the head of his cock spurts rope after rope of hot cum inside you, and you mewl, your back arching to deepen the angle, luxuriate in the liquid warmth. Joel isn’t so loud now, not so cocky. He’s reduced to strained groans and whimpers as your body depletes him, greedily taking every drop of cum he has to offer.

It feels like minutes before it finally stops, but with your ass up in the air, none of his cum spills out. Your hips are sore, your ass bruises from his hands, your tits still sitting warmly in his hands. The cool kiss of his wedding band soothes the too-hot press of his body on top of yours, your doubly-slick skin meeting indecently. His lips are on the back of your neck and he thrusts shallowly, wringing the last of his cum from the tip until he's wholly empty and bordering on oversensitive.

You're the first to speak, your throat clogged with drool and some of your own tears.

“Thank fuck I was at the bar that night.”

Joel’s laugh scrapes down your spine along with his beard as he drags himself upright, knowing he’s crushing you. “Never would've had to patch me up”

“Mmm, you're sexy when you're mad,” you point out, your thighs twitching as he carefully guides you onto your side, back to his chest, his cock still acting as a plug for his cum. You’re deliciously full, and you hum happily at the feeling of his warm belly against you, his big arms cradling you close.

“Shouldn't enable violence,” he grumbles. His lashes flutter against your shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please.”

He chuckles. “You feel okay?”

“I feel good,” you muse, running your fingers along his forearm, the prominent veins under his skin. “I feel excited.”

His grin curves against your skin, the scratch of his moustache sending a shiver up your spine. Outside, the sun begins to dip, and your twin golden rings glimmer in the fiery light.

“Me, too,” he whispers, and you lace your fingers through his, squeezing, both of you practically giddy.

There’s a lull, and for a moment, you think he’s fallen asleep. The sun creeps behind a home across the street, and its watch ends for another day.

“Hey, Joel?”

His mouth meets your throat in a sleepy kiss. “Yeah, baby?”

“I like the name Sarah.”

THE END.

tags: @cavillscurls @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @cupofjoel @northernbluess @tieronecrush @joelmillers-whore @bastardmandennis - thank you all so so much for showing excitement for this fic!! kisses for you all 🫶

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader

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